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"Hey, Dad."
The greeting came out of the dark through the few inches of space between door and jamb. It was a lightweight, verbal lasso, easily broken by a simple word or two and a quickened step. But, oh, no, he let it yank him right in and over. He strained to see the nine-year-old lump under the blankets and then gave the lump a verbal swat full of phony harshness, "You're supposed to be asleep."
Immediate blame shift. "It's your fault. I heard you and mom talking. You kept me awake. I'll go to sleep if you tell me a story. You owe me, really."
Art walked over to the bed, scuffling his feet so as not to crush some toy or game lying on the carpet. Eyes now adjusted to the dark, he could make out Theo's face framed by his mop of tangled hair, eyes staring up at him, examining. "You're too old for stories. Why don't I just conk you on the head?"
"That's child abuse. We're learning about it at school. We're going to get a special number to call."
He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed. "Well, that's too bad, you having a special number and all. I imagine the line will be busy a lot."
"I wouldn't call, Dad, unless you were really weirding out." He shuffled under his blankets. "Could you sit on the floor? I'm really super comfortable, and you kind of take up a lot of room."
"Not much of a welcome."
"You sit on the floor lots of times. I see you do that. I just pretend I'm asleep."
"You're a tricky spy guy. Okay, but I'm only going to stay for a minute."
"Sure."
He slid down, using the bed for a backrest.
"I like it when you come into my room," Theo confirmed, feeling he should make up for demanding his entire bed.
"I stop in to check you out, make sure you haven't fallen on the floor. Sometimes I sit here for a few minutes just to think about things. You should tell me when you're awake."
"I guess. But, when you sit down like that, your change falls out of your pocket. I keep it in a box. It's hidden. You could have it back if you want; I've only spent a little."
He answered through laughter. "It's rightfully yours. Something about the laws of salvage."
"Why did you marry mom?"
"What?"
"Why did you marry mom? You didn't have to."
"I married her so you and your brother would have a good mother."
"Hah." Theo shot the syllable out into the darkness, like a stone thrown in anger, and turned his head toward the wall.
Well, boyhood was out of bounds today. The truth of things would come out easily enough. He'd ignore the anger. "What did you do after school today?"
"Just dumb stuff. Rode bikes in the park with John. What did you do today?"
"Just dumb stuff." He always matched answers. "Mostly talking."
"You didn't tell me why you married mom."
He stretched with a small groan and held his arms above his head. "Well, my television broke, then my radio went out, too. Then one night I just didn't want to cook...so I said, hey, why not marry your mother? Something like that." He expected Theo to laugh, but he didn't.
"Don't be dumb. Mom's really so stupid."
He dropped his arms in surrender. "Okay, tell me why mom is so stupid. Did you break something? Were you fighting with Chris?"
"I didn't do anything. It's just her. She's the one."
"You'll have to tell me more if you want me know what's going on." It sounded like Theo's extremely narrow moral code was at work. Perhaps it could wait until morning. He was tired.
"I don't have to tell," Theo said, now the guardian of the secret.
"That's right. Maybe you should just go to sleep. Sometimes problems disappear in your sleep." He stretched again. He should get out of his suit coat.
"Tell me a story, then I'll go to sleep."
"Come on, Theo, I'm way out of practice. You're too old for stories. Nine years old is the limit for stories you don't read yourself."
"You used to tell stories all the time. Chris listened when he was older than nine. So I get to catch up with him. It's only fair. Tell one with a witch in it who's killed in the end."
He put some phony annoyance in his voice. "I get to make up the story if I tell it. Let me think about it for a minute, will you?"
"Okay. Just have a witch in it." They were silent for a few moments. Theo added, flat and certain, "I heard mom talking on the phone. She was making fun of you."
He tensed but spoke casually, "Not a big deal. I make fun of mom, too. You make fun of your brother. It's just joking. It doesn't mean that much. What did she say?"
"She said you were like a little boy. You had no sense."
"Oh, that's just joking. I joke like that, too. Who was she talking to? Was someone here?"
"She was on the phone. She was talking to the little blond twit."
He hunched his shoulders against this telling expression. "What? Where did you hear that? - little blond twit?"
"That's what you called her. I heard you call her that to Mom."
"Who are you talking about?"
"The woman who sells houses. That's who Mom was talking to. The one with the cool car. The one that doesn't have real name."
Ah, so. He was the contributor to delinquency. "That's Mrs. Dowling, Muffy Dowling." His complete designation had been 'the sour-faced, blond twit driving around in a Mercedes coupe' and which indeed was a fair, if not kind, description of Fred Dowling's recently purchased second wife. "It's no big deal, Theo. That was just joking. Mrs. Dowling is a friend of your mother's. Women always joke about their husbands. You shouldn't call Mrs. Dowling a twit, by the way."
"You did. You said twit. You said little blond twit. If you can say twit, I should be able to say twit. It's not like sh...shoes, you know." He laughed and bounced around with this delightful burden of truth, stopped and laughed again and covered his face.
Art growled, "Will you knock it off, funny guy? I'll tell you a story if you don't say twit any more."
He popped back up and said, "Okay, I won't say twit any more. Even if you say twit, I won't say twit. Just tell me the story." He turned away to savor his victory.
"Okay. You have to get serious. This is a story about two boys who decide to ride bikes one afternoon."
"How old are they?"
"They're nine and ten; about that old, anyway. Maybe a little older."
"Okay. What are their names?"
"Ah ... Nickel and Dime."
"Who's the biggest?"
"Nickel, of course. But, Dime's a little bit smarter."
Theo nodded agreement and said, "Okay, but the names are kinda goofy."
"Baloney." He was already proud of himself. "They're not goofy. They're just different really. Their parents wanted change, you see." Theo missed that one. Art continued, "So, these boys decide to ride their bikes in the park. Nobody else is out because it's just stopped raining, and it's kind of cold and foggy. They can't see very far."
"What kind of bikes?"
"Dirt bikes, like yours. I can't tell the story if you keep asking all these questions."
Theo propped himself on his elbow to give his directive. "Hey, don't get grouchy. You always ask questions in the beginning."
Art shifted and pried off his shoes. He wiggled his toes in the cool air. Theo harassed, "Come on, Dad, you're taking too long. And, you're not supposed to take your shoes off that way. Mom yells at us when we do that."
"She doesn't yell at you."
"Sometimes."
"No, she doesn't. But, the law is that when you're telling a story you can do shoes that way."
"Oh, sure. You're just making that up."
"No, it really is the law. Just let me tell the story, will you?"
"Okay."
"So, Nickel and Dime are riding around the park in the fog, which they think is kind of neat. Then they stop to talk by this old tree stump. They are just talking there when Nickel thinks he sees the tree stump move. He says to Dime, 'Did you see that, the tree stump moved!' Of course, Dime thinks he's loony or joking, but he watches the stump and, sure enough, it's moving toward them.
"But you see, it wasn't a stump at all. It was a crusty old gnome in disguise. In just a few seconds he sort of unfolded himself and walked over to the boys. He still looked something like a tree stump."
"Was he going to take their bikes?"
"Gnomes don't ride bikes, and he was too small anyway."
Theo chewed on his lip thinking that over and said, "Okay. But tell me, what's a gazebo? It sounds like some kind animal."
"What's a gazebo?"
"Yeah. Mom was talking about a gazebo."
"Oh. Well, a gazebo is sort of a little house that's usually behind the real house. It's a place where you sit in the summertime; when you want to be outside but not really. Sometimes it has screened windows. Usually you just sit there and talk. There are different kinds."
"Mom was saying we're going to move to a house with a gazebo. A big house by the golf course. She was talking about it to the twit woman."
The issue came clearer. "Okay. Okay. Relax, buddy. It's not likely we'll move anywhere. But, you see, lots of women just like to talk about moving. It's no big deal." Theo blew out a long hiss. Art ignored it.
"Okay, where were we? Right, the gnome comes over to the boys, who are too afraid to move, never having seen a gnome before. He says to them, 'I need your help. I need two brave boys to help me get my treasure back. If you help me, you'll be greatly rewarded, and besides that, you'll have a lot of fun, a terrific adventure and valuable training for real life.'
"Nickel, who was the most afraid, tried to ride off. He shouted to Dime, 'Come on, let's get out of here!' He pumped his legs up and down on his pedals. But all that happened was that his wheel spun very fast in the same place. Dime, who was much more curious, said, 'Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. Let's at least talk. Let's hear what he has to say.'
"Then the gnome said, 'Boys, you don't have to be afraid of me.' Art tried to shift to a gnome voice but gave it up. He went on, 'I won't hurt you. Just settle down and let me explain the situation.' Then the gnome told them that an evil witch, the witch of the downtown buildings, had swooped into the park one night when all the gnomes were having a party. She disguised herself as a squirrel, and when the gnomes were all a little silly from drinking gnome wine, she snuck into the secret treasure room, took the sacred treasure bag, changed back into a witch and flew off with it to the top of the highest building downtown, which is where she lived."
Theo propped himself back up on his elbow and looked down. He said, like a serious, young student, "This is really interesting, even if the gnome thing is kind of ... kind of dumb. I mean just a little."
Art canted his head back and said, "The hell it is. Gnomes aren't dumb; they're neat. They're sharp. They're cool."
Theo thought his father might be really annoyed. He said, "Okay. I didn't want to hurt your feelings, you know. It's an interesting story, really. Really, it's better than I thought you'd do."
"Thanks, I guess. Well, after the gnome explained all about the witch and treasure, the boys were very interested; still a little afraid of course, but very interested. Dime asked, 'What can we do?'"
Art tried again to do a gnome voice but again gave it up. "So, the gnome said, 'That's very simple, very simple indeed. You just go and take the treasure back from the evil witch. She's cunning and wicked and has many powers, but you can defeat her. With my help, of course.'
"Then the gnome took out a small leather bag and walked over to Nickel. He took a pinch of powder from the bag and sprinkled it on Nickel's bike. Then he asked Nickel, 'Do you like to ride over jumps?' Nickel said, 'Sure, this is a dirt bike. It's for jumps.' The gnome said, 'Okay, hotshot, ride over that one.' He pointed to the ground, and a small hill appeared by magic.
"Nickel took off and went right over that hill. But, instead of coming down, he just went higher and higher into the air. 'Wow!' Nickel shouted and found out that he could ride his bike through the air just like he could on the ground. He was already as high as the treetops, however, and was a little frightened. 'How do I come down?' he shouted. The gnome shouted back, 'Just slow up your pedaling and down you'll come.' And, that's just what happened. Nickel pedaled slower, and he started to descend.
"While Nickel was coming down, the gnome sprinkled the same powder on Dime's bike. He said, 'Show me what you can do, kid.' Dime sped to the jump and, sure enough, he went up in the air, too. He went right by Nickel and up as high as the treetops. Nickel immediately climbed back higher and soon both boys were riding their bikes through the air. Going up and down, turning around, even riding upside down."
Theo dropped back to his pillow and stared up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. "That's neat. But, you know that's really kind of a rip-off from the ET movie. He made the kid's bikes fly through the air, in the movie. But, it's okay; this is your story."
"Well, you see, that's true, Theo, but storytellers often borrow ideas from one another. It's not really ripping off. It's just borrowing. See, this ET guy, Lucas or Steinberg, I think his name was; now he might borrow my magic powder idea..."
"That's kind of old, too; you know, like in Peter Pan."
"Well, he might take some other idea then; like the gnomes or ..."
"We've read gnome stories in school. There are lots of books about gnomes."
"Okay, there are lots of ideas around. Anyway, let's just see how this story works out."
"Sure. What happens?"
"The gnome called them down. But at first they didn't want to come and kept on riding around. So he waved his hand at them and suddenly the pedals became very hard to turn. So down they came.
"When they were down on the ground, the gnome said, 'I know that riding up in the air is great fun, but this is serious business. You can't fly around up there like a couple of crazy blue jays.' 'Sorry. Sorry.' the boys said, and they felt a little ashamed. 'That's better,' said the gnome and went on. 'Now listen carefully. Ride your bikes through the air all the way downtown to the top of the tallest building. Circle the building, and you'll see the witch. As soon as she sees you, however, she'll know you're after the treasure, and then watch out because she'll want to knock you right out of the sky.'
"Dime was a little worried. 'I don't know about this,' he said. 'I mean, how can we protect ourselves?' The gnome pulled out another bag and handed it to Dime, who he knew was just a little bit smarter. 'Take this with you,' he said. 'When the witch is trying to knock you out of the air, you take the pinch of powder inside between your thumb and finger and wish for the weapon you need to defeat the witch. You will be given it. Don't wish for something stupid; there's only one pinch allowed.'
"Nickel, on the other hand, was very excited. 'Hey, Dime', Nickel called over, 'No problem. This is just like a video game.'
"'What's in the treasure bag?' asked Dime. 'None of your business,' said the gnome. 'Now get going. Heroes never just stand around talking.' He pointed them in the right direction and off they went."
"Hey, Dad, this is one of your best stories. I'm sorry I said the gnome part was dumb."
"Yeah, well, I'll let that slide."
"What does the witch look like? What can she do?"
"She looks like a witch, you know, you've seen pictures of witches. I'm not sure what she can do yet. She's pretty powerful."
"Tell me something. I'm sorry to interrupt, but...would I have to..." Theo stopped speaking, and his silence thickened the air.
"What?" Art spoke softly. He had listened ahead when he heard the confusion in that voice. They both would wait for the problem to find the words.
"If mom made us move, would I have to go to a school where I lived all the time?"
He placed his hand on Theo's shoulder and spoke forcefully, as if giving the final commands on yard cleanup. "Until you go away to college neither you nor Chris will ever go to a school where you stay there all the time. Never. Now, just relax. I have to finish this story."
"Okay. Don't you just hate mom? Don't you just hate her to pieces?"
"No, no. I just told you that everybody can have dumb ideas. You don't hate them for that."
"I hate her. I really do."
"No, you don't. You're just mad at her. It's different. Let me go on with the story."
"Okay, but I do hate her."
Art sighed. "Well, Nickel and Dime are riding through the air toward the downtown buildings. It's still kind of foggy, so they can't see that well, and they stay close to the ground. When they saw the tallest building poking up, they went straight to it and climbed above it to circle around. Sure enough they saw the witch straight off."
"What did she look like?"
"Terribly ugly. It was a shame really, her being so ugly. And very mean, extremely mean looking. She screamed up at them. 'You stupid little boys! I'm so glad you've come here on your silly magic bikes. It will be such fun to knock you out of the air and watch you fall to your deaths thousands of feet below.' Then she screamed horrible screams which by themselves almost knocked the boys right off their bikes."
"Hey, Dad, this is getting spooky. It's a little scary, really."
Art chuckled and twisted to see if Theo was still looking out from his blankets. He was. "Oh, sure. You talk tough about a witch, but when one's around you back off in a real big hurry."
"You were making it sound so real, that's all. It's not fair to make it sound so real. I mean at night in the dark."
"Well, you see, we master storytellers do that; make things sound real; it can't be helped. Just let me go on, okay?"
Theo hesitated then said, "Just a minute." He pulled his top-most blanket up over his head and formed a tent, his face peering out from the side and his hands ready to shut it close. "Go ahead," he said with a new confidence.
"All right. So the boys just kept circling around the witch as fast as they could, trying to think of something they could do. They saw the leather bag with the treasure right by her feet, but how could they get it?
"Then the witch screamed up at them again. 'Stupid little boys! Watch my power! Watch my power!' She pointed to a group of pigeons flying beneath the boys. A brilliant ray of red light came streaming from her finger. And, one by one, each pigeon turned to stone and fell to the earth and smashed into a trillion little pieces. 'You'll be next,' she screamed.
Theo shifted and kicked his feet around under his blankets. He said, "Dad, this is kinda scary again, you know. I mean, I'm not afraid ..."
"Hey, I can't help it, Theo, you asked for the witch part. We have to go with it now. So, just toughen up. Anyway, the boys were very afraid and that made them forget their tiredness, and they pedaled extremely fast to go up into the clouds. Once they were out of sight, they tried to stay in one place so they could talk, kind of like treading water. 'What kind of weapon do we need?' Nickel asked Dime who was scratching his head.
"Dime answered, all excited, 'I know what we need. Stay close to me.' And as they started to descend, Dime reached inside the little bag and took the pinch of dust between his fingers. 'What are you going to ask for?' Nickel wanted to know right away because the witch had begun to raise her arm toward them. 'Stay behind me,' Dime yelled: and as he did so, his one arm was covered by a large shield, which on the front side was a perfect silver mirror. Down they went. Sure enough the witch sent the terrifying red beam right at them but it bounced off the mirror and went right back at her. In an instant she was a stone statue."
Theo sighed in relief and released his blanket cowl. Art waited a moment until the new truth was fully accepted. He then said, "The boys landed right by the witch statue. Dime took the mirror shield and hung it on the wall, and they both turned the witch so that her finger pointed directly at it. Nickel picked up the treasure bag, which was surprisingly heavy, and hung it from his handlebars. Even though they were very tired, they quickly rode back to the park, probably because they didn't fool around on the way."
"That was a really good story. I mean it. It was really good."
"Thanks, Theo. Should I tell you what the gnome did?"
"Sure. Of course. I didn't mean you should stop. You know, I liked how the witch really killed herself. It was her own fault because she was trying to kill the boys. The boys didn't really do it. That was a good part."
"Yeah, you're right. It was her fault. Well, let me finish up. When the boys got back to the park, the tree stump started growing out of the ground and in just a few seconds it turned into the gnome who stood there right in front of the boys.
"'I'll take that treasure from you, thank you very much,' said the gnome. And the bag just came off the handlebars by itself and went right to his hand. 'Wow!' said Nickel, 'that was neat. What's in there?'
"'It's only gnome business, not for boys to know,' was all the gnome answered and set the bag on the ground. 'Now for your rewards,' he said. 'You were very brave and very smart, both of you. And, you did us a great service. All gnomes thank you and will thank you for thousands of years.' Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out two small gold medals. He handed one to each boy and they thought, well, this is sure no big deal but they didn't want to be impolite, so they just stuck them in their pockets and said thank you as nicely as they could manage.
"But, Nickel just couldn't stay quiet. 'If our bikes stayed magic,' he said, 'that would be a great reward, too.'
"'Sorry,' said the gnome, 'the magic's already gone. It would be dumb anyway because everyone would want to ride them, even your father and mother, and someone would try to steal them. You would have to worry about them all the time. It's stupid to have magic bikes unless you have a magical need for them. Just forget it. You did very well with them and had some fun. That's really good enough. What I've given you is much more valuable.'
"'It's just a little coin,' said Nickel. 'I mean it's neat, and I've never seen one like it, but it's just a little coin.' Dime spoke up, too. 'We did make the witch kill herself; it was very dangerous. She could have turned us to stone like the pigeons.' The gnome frowned but didn't get angry. 'If you were pigeons, she might have,' he said. 'However, that little coin, as you call it, will give you a special power whenever it's in your pocket. It will allow you to know what's right every time you're not sure. Now, it won't help you do the right thing, but it will make sure you always know what the right thing is. Make sure you don't lose it for pity's sake. Anyway, stop fussing with me; you don't bargain with gnomes. Now, you had both better get home for dinner. Don't try and blame a gnome for being late.'
"The boys started off on their bikes, which, they could already tell, had no magic, except maybe just a little, when the gnome called out. 'Just a minute please.' When the boys stopped, he reached under his cloak and tossed a miniature football to Nickel, who caught it quite nicely one-handed. 'Is that your football?' the gnome asked.
'Yeah, it is. Thanks. I must have left it here.'
'I thought as much,' the gnome said grumpily. 'You should learn to take better care of your things. You're not going to have gnomes picking up after you the rest of your life.' And then the boys rode away as fast they could, laughing all the way home. The end."
Theo flopped his arms up and down on the bed in salute. "That was so good. See, you can still tell a story."
"For an amateur, I have my moments."
Both stayed quiet and still and let the late hour, the story and their union float about them in the dark.
"Dad..." Theo's call made him snap his head up. He was falling asleep sitting up there against the bed.
"Yes."
"Do you think mom would whisper on the phone because she knew I was listening?"
"No, if she didn't want you to hear, she'd just shoo you away. What was she whispering about?"
"This man."
"What man?"
"The man who did something to her."
Art raised his voice a notch, but quickly lowered it. "Theo... Theo, what do you mean, did something to her? Do you know who she was talking about?"
"Some man the twit woman knew. Mom said he was inside her. She said he was inside her and making her feel excited, like never before. His name was Jack, that's the name she said."
He didn't know any Jack except for a straining second-rater at the office and that was totally impossible.
"He had a big driver, she said." Theo added, warming to his task and Art's intensity. "She said she knew it was wrong. She knew it was wrong but that somebody else had done it, too. At the club. And the twit woman had done it, too. Mom just kept laughing with her. I'll always hate her,"
He gave Theo his last mental effort. He thought it heroic and brilliant. "Theo. Theo. Mom didn't do anything wrong. She was just joking with Mrs. Dowling. That man she talked about is the golf pro at the club. He was teaching Mom how to play better. He wasn't inside her, he was beside her. Helping her use the driver. Showing her how to hit the ball better. He teaches Mrs. Dowling, too. You should know that only dad would be inside your mother; that's what we do to show we love each other. It's special just between us."
"I heard what she said."
"Well, Theo, I believe you, but I think you just got it a bit wrong. That's all. Let's go to sleep now. It's really late."
"Okay. Thanks, Dad."
"Theo?"
"Yeah."
"I'm so tired I don't think I can make it up the stairs. Will you let me have one of your pillows? I'll just rest here. At least for a while."
"Dad, come on, I have to have two pillows. I always sleep with two pillows."
"Theo, I know, but it's just for tonight. I told you a story; it's only fair to share your pillows."
"Okay. You're right. Fair's fair."
Art took the pillow and, deciding not to try for a blanket, went to sleep in the fitful wrap of Theo's story. He awoke to his wife standing next to him, clucking in disbelief. She pointed toward the mirror on the wall and said, "Art, I can't believe you. Look what a mess you've made of your suit." Theo looked out from his bed in wonder, ready to pull his blankets over his head.