“You’re talking a lot better than you have been,” I said to him.
“Uh-huh, I know. Long-Lost, he says it’s because I’m one of the ‘special ones.’ Because I don’t have to be helped by the Keepers, I’m getting there faster.”
“Getting where?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know yet.” Then he smiled the smile of the Carson I’d always known and loved more than anything in the world, came over, and wrapped his arms around me. “I love you so much, UncGil.”
I put my arm around him. “I love you, too, buddy.”
“That’s good. Hey-do you like swans?”
It was one of those non sequitur subject shifts that had always been a staple of conversations with him.
“I, uh… I don’t know, Carson. I never thought about it.”
“Swans are pretty.”
“Yes… yes, they are.”
“Yeah.” He let go of me and started walking back toward his art project. “You should sit down and rest, UncGil. See what Long-Lost has to say.”
I sat down, wincing from the pain in my hip, arm, and shoulder. Reaching into my pocket, I removed and unrolled the new issue of Modoc: Land of the Abandoned Beast.
Before I even pulled the cover back, I felt something brush against my leg and looked down to see Carson’s missing cat, Butterball, rubbing against me and purring.
(Butterball went to live at the Magic Zoo…)
I reached down to pet him and he, as always, rolled over onto his back and offered his tremendous belly. I rubbed it, and Butterball’s purring grew louder, deeper, more contented.
Then, as usual, he fell asleep like that; on his back, legs splayed in every direction, mouth open. He looked like the cat equivalent of the town drunk passed out in the gutter.
I looked toward the barn door, heard the bear huff again, then unrolled the comic and turned to the first page.
There was an illustration of Long-Lost, this one much more detailed than the other. He was staring directly outward, and the dialogue bubble above his head read:
HELLO, GIL. NICE TO FINALLY TALK TO YOU.
“This isn’t possible,” I whispered to myself. I turned the page.
YES, GILBERT JAMES STEWART, IT IS POSSIBLE.
I gritted my teeth. “What do you want?”
THE SAME THING THAT PEST IN THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD WANTS, GIL. I WANT YOU TO REMEMBER.
“Remember what?”
THAT WOULD BE TELLING.
“Then at least explain what the fuck you’re supposed to be.”
TSK-TSK-SUCH LANGUAGE. YOU SHOULD BE SETTING AN EXAMPLE FOR YOUR NEPHEW. BY THE WAY, HE HAS NO IDEA HOW SPECIAL HE REALLY IS. NEITHER DO YOU.
I closed my eyes, squeezing the lids so tight I began to see stars. The stars exploded into faces; Beth, her aunt Mabel, an old man whose face I recognized but whose name wouldn’t come to me… something with a “W,” wasn’t it…?
I felt a small jolt surge through my body. I started, shuddering, nearly dropping the comic.
WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN GOOD, GIL, DROPPING THIS. THE FLOOR’S GOT OLD SHIT AND PISS BURIED UNDER THE HAY. YOU SHOULD REMEMBER TO WIPE OFF YOUR SHOES BEFORE YOU GO INTO YOUR HOUSE.
“Am I going to see my house again?”
OF COURSE YOU ARE. AND I DON’T WANT YOU TO WORRY. THE KEEPERS HAVEN’T GONE THERE. YET.
Something hitched in my throat, and for some reason I began crying. “What’s happening? And why…? ”
SHHH… THERE-THERE, MY FRIEND. NO NEED TO GET UPSET. I HAVE NO INTENTION OF HURTING YOU. BUT YOU’VE GOT TO REMEMBER ON YOUR OWN OR… OR IT IS GOING TO HURT, AND I WON’T BE ABLE TO HELP YOU. I HAVEN’T GOTTEN THROUGH THE GREAT SCRIM YET.
I wiped my eyes and pulled in a hard, snot-filled breath. “I don’t understand…”
The next panel showed Long-Lost rolling his eyes in exasperation.
OKAY… YOU GET SOME OF IT, BUT NOT ALL. NOT EVEN CLOSE TO ALL-SO DON’T GO THINKING THAT YOU’RE GOING TO BE A STEP AHEAD OF THINGS, BECAUSE THERE’S NO WAY, UNDERSTAND?
I said nothing, only nodded my head and moved to the next panel.
WHEN THIS PLANET AWOKE TO SING ITS FIRST SONG, THERE WAS ONLY ONE SPECIES OF ANIMAL LIVING ON ITS SURFACE. THIS CREATURE BREATHED AND DREAMED JUST AS YOU DO TODAY. BUT IT WAS LONELY. HERE WAS THIS MAGNIFICENT EARTH, FILLED WITH BEAUTY, AND IT HAD NO ONE AND NOTHING WITH WHICH TO SHARE IT. THIS FIRST ANIMAL TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND BEGAN TO SWELL IN SIZE, REARRANGING ITSELF FROM WITHIN, THEN SPLITTING INTO TWO IDENTICAL HALVES. THE HALVES MATED, CREATING A THIRD, A HYBRID OF THEMSELVES WHICH IN TURN MATED WITH THEM, PRODUCING OTHER HYBRIDS. THEY CONTINUED TO MATE AND PRODUCE, AS DID THE PROGENIES, GIVING BIRTH TO EVERYTHING FROM THE MANTICORA AND SPHINX DOWN TO THE ANTS AND MAGGOTS-THAT IS HOW THE EARTH BECAME POPULATED. EVEN AFTER THAT, THE BIRTHING CONTINUED. SINGLE CELLS FUSED TOGETHER, CREATING METAZOANS THAT EVENTUALLY CULMINATED IN THE INVENTION OF ROSES AND ELEPHANTS AND DEW-GLISTENED LEAVES AND EVEN HUMAN BEINGS. ALL LIFE ON THIS PLANET-PAST, PRESENT, AND WHAT THERE IS OF THE FUTURE-SPRANG FROM THE SAME SINGLE ORGANISM. IF ONLY THEY COULD JUST SEE THE JOINING OF ORGANISMS INTO COMMUNITIES, THOSE COMMUNITIES INTO ECOSYSTEMS, THOSE ECOSYSTEMS INTO THE BIOSPHERE… I’M GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF. THAT ALWAYS HAPPENS WHEN I WAX NOSTALGIC ABOUT THE GOOD OLD DAYS. I AM THAT FIRST ANIMAL, GIL: ALL THE REST SPRANG FROM ME. AND THAT’S ALL YOU’RE GETTING UNTIL YOU REMEMBER THE REST ON YOUR OWN…
I waited, flipping to the pages further back, which were blank. I turned back to the last illustrated page, only Long-Lost was gone; in his place were now six panels, the first one showing a boy of about nine or ten lying in a hospital bed while a lovely girl several years his senior held his hand.
I recognized Beth and myself immediately.
The next panel had no illustration, just a thought bubble with a caption that read:
ALL RIGHT, GIL-A LITTLE NUDGE. CONSIDER IT A GESTURE OF GOOD FAITH. THESE PAGES ARE MADE FROM A SECTION OF FLESH TAKEN FROM ONE OF MY WINGS. THEY REFLECT MEMORIES, GIL, BUT ONLY THOSE YOU’RE WILLING TO FACE. YOU’LL BE WRITING AND ILLUSTRATING THE REST OF THIS ISSUE. WE’LL TALK AGAIN SOON.
I went back to the first panel again, only now there was the caption:
BETH WAS RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL FIVE DAYS BEFORE ME, BUT SHE MADE IT A POINT TO VISIT ME EVERY DAY AFTER SCHOOL.
The second panel was now filled by the young boy’s face-my own-and the caption was situated close to the top of his head, so you’d know it was he who was narrating.
EVEN THEN I NOTICED HOW SOME OF HER SPARKLE SEEMED TO FADE ONCE SHE WAS BACK IN THE WORLD.
And I stayed like that, on the stool in the barn, while outside a gigantic bear and two black dogs stood guard; I stayed like that, reading the comic through to the last page, then returning to the first and finding that it had altered and was now taking up the story where the last page had left off, and I read the words, and I saw the pictures, and with every new panel the memories were as thick as summer heat around me, and I was…powerless.
But there was Beth’s face, and soon her voice in my ears, her scent enveloping me, the ghost of her touch rising to the surface from deep beneath the layers of my skin, and I stopped fighting it and let myself (… about goddamn time, pal…)
– become lost once again in her eyes, her companionship, and everything that followed…
II
Beth was released from the hospital five days before I was, but she made it a point to visit me every day after school. Even then I noticed how some of her sparkle seemed to fade once she was back in the world. It was nothing dramatic, her spirit hadn’t been broken in one brutal blow, but even a kid can recognize a soul that’s starting to bleed to death from thousands of tiny scratches.
Still, she was always upbeat and affectionate, bringing me comic books or telling me about this groovy new song she’d heard on the radio, or regaling me with gossip gathered during lunch or study hall. She always sat on the edge of my bed and held my hand and made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world. I had never received such unselfish attention from a person before, nor have I since.