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when he was born?”
He shook his head。
“Well; then …”
He leaned forward even farther and whispered; “You did。”
“I did?”
He nodded。 “Twice。”
“But …”
“The doctor who delivered you was on the ball; plus apparently there was some slack in the
cord; so he was able to loop it off as you came out。
……… Page 42………
You didn't hang yourself ing into the world; but it could very easily have gone the other
way。”
If I'd been told years or even weeks ago that I'd e down the chute noosed and ready to
hang; I'd have made some kind of joke about it; or
more likely I'd have said; Yeah; that's nice; now can you spare me the discussion?
But after everything that had happened; I was really freaking out; and I couldn't escape the
questions tidal…waving my brain。 Where would I be if
things had been different? What would they have done with me? From the way my dad was
talking; he wouldn't have had much use for me; that's for
sure。 He'd have stuck me in a nuthouse somewhere; any where; and forgotten about me。 But
then I thought; No! I'm his kid。 He wouldn't do that …
would he?
I looked around at everything we had — the big house; the white carpet; the antiques and
artwork and stuff that was everywhere。 Would they have
given up all the stuff to make my life more pleasant?
I doubted it; and man; I doubted it big…time。 I'd have been an embarrassment。 Something to
try to forget about。 How things looked had always
been a biggie to my parents。 Especially to my dad。
Very quietly my granddad said; “You can't dwell on what might have been; Bryce。” Then; like
he could read my mind; he added; “And it's not fair to
condemn him for something he hasn't done。”
I nodded and tried to get a grip; but I wasn't doing a very good job of it。 Then he said; “By the
way; I appreciated your ment before。”
“What?” I asked; but my throat was feeling all pinched and swollen。
“About your grandmother。 How did you know that?”
I shook my head and said; “Juli told me。”
“Oh? You spoke with her; then?”
“Yeah。 Actually; I apologized to her。”
“Well…!”
“And I was feeling a lot better about everything; but now … God; I feel like such a jerk again。”
“Don't。 You apologized; and that's what matters。” He stood up and said; “Say; I'm in the
mood for a walk。 Want to join me?”
Go for a walk? What I wanted to do was go to my room; lock the door; and be left alone。
“I find it really helps to clear the mind;” he said; and that's when I realized that this wasn't just
a walk — this was an invitation to do something
together。
I stood up and said; “Yeah。 Let's get out of here。”
For a guy who'd only basically ever said Pass the salt to me; my granddad turned out to be a
real talker。 We walked our neighborhood and the
next neighborhood and the next neighborhood; and not only did I find out that my granddad
knows a lot of stuff; I found out that the guy is funny。 In a
subtle kind of dry way。 It's the stuff he says; plus the way he says it。 It's really; I don't know;
cool。
As we were winding back into our own territory; we passed by the house that's going up
where the sycamore tree used to be。 My granddad
stopped; looked up into the night; and said; “It must've been a spectacular view。”
I looked up; too; and noticed for the first time that night that you could see the stars。 “Did you
ever see her up there?” I asked him。
“Your mother pointed her out to me one time as we drove by。 It scared me to see her up so
high; but after I read the article I understood why she
did it。” He shook his head。 “The tree's gone; but she's still got the spark it gave her。 Know
what I mean?”
Luckily I didn't have to answer。 He just grinned and said; “Some of us get dipped in flat; some
in satin; some in gloss…。” He turned to me。 “But
……… Page 43………
every once in a while you find someone who's iridescent; and when you do; nothing will ever
pare。”
As we walked up to our front porch; my grandfather put his arm around my shoulder and said;
“It was nice walking with you; Bryce。 I enjoyed
myself very much。”
“Me too;” I told him; and we went inside。
Right away we knew we'd stepped into a war zone。 And even though no one was yelling or
crying; from the look on my parents' faces I could tell
there'd been a major meltdown while my granddad and I were out。
Granddad whispered to me; “I've got another fence to mend; I'm afraid;” and headed into the
dining room to talk to my parents。
I wanted nothing to do with that vibe。 I went straight to my room; closed the door; and flopped
through the darkness onto my bed。
I lay there awhile and let the dinner disaster play through my mind。 And when I'd totally
burned a fuse thinking about it; I sat up and looked out the
window。 There was a light on somewhere inside the Bakers' house and the streetlights were
glowing; but the night still seemed really dense。 Like it
was darker than usual and; I don't know; heavy。
I leaned closer to the window and looked up into the sky; but I couldn't see the stars anymore。
I wondered if Juli had ever been in the sycamore at
night。 Among the stars。
I shook my head。 Flat; glossy; iridescent。 What was up with that? Juli Baker had always
seemed just plain dusty to me。
I snapped on my desk lamp and dug the newspaper with the article about Juli out of the
drawer where I'd tossed it。
Just like I thought — they made it sound like Juli was trying to save Mount Rushmore or
something。 They called her a “strong voice in an urban
wilderness” and “a radiant beacon; shedding light on the need to curtail continued
overdevelopment of our once quaint and tranquil munity。”
Spare me。 I mean; what's wrong with letting a guy cut down a tree on his own property so he
can build a house? His lot; his tree; his decision。
End of story。 The piece in the paper was gag…me gush。
Except。 Except for the places aybe it was just in contrast to the
reporter's slant or something; but Juli's parts didn't e
off oh…woe…is…me like I was expecting。 They were; I don't know; deep。 Sitting in that tree was
seriously philosophical to her。
And the odd thing is; it all made sense to me。 She talked about what it felt like to be up in that
tree; and how it; like; transcended dimensional
space。 “To be held above the earth and brushed by the wind;” she said; “it's like your heart
has been kissed by beauty。” Who in junior high do you
know that would put together a sentence like that? None of my friends; that's for sure。
There was other stuff; too; like how something can be so much more than the parts it took to
make it; and why people need things around them
that lift them above their lives and make them feel the miracle of living。
I wound up reading and re…reading her parts; wondering when in the world she started
thinking like that。 I mean; no kidding; Juli Baker's smart; but
this was something way beyond straight A's。
A month ago if I'd read this article; I would have chucked it in the trash as plete garbage;
but for some reason it made sense to me now。 A lot
of sense。
A month ago I also wouldn't have paid any attention to the picture of Juli; but now I found
myself staring at it。 Not the one of the whole scene —
that was more emergency rescue equipment than Juli。 The other one; on the bottom half of
the page。 Someone must've used a killer telephoto lens;
……… Page 44………
because you can tell that she's in the tree; but it's mostly from the shoulders up。 She's
looking off into the distance and the wind is blowing her hair
back like she's at the helm of a ship or something; sailing into the sun。
I'd spent so many years avoiding Juli Baker that I'd never really looked at her; and now all of
a sudden I couldn't stop。 This weird feeling started
t