Not Non-Fiction

When I was a kid my parents would sometimes have dinner parties. When I was very young, when we lived in a single-floor house the kitchen and dining room were right down the hall from my room. I would lie in my room with the light off listening to the grownups talk, and sometimes one of my parents’ friends would quietly come into my room. He’d sit by my bed and tell me the story of Goldilocks And The Three Bears. By the third time I was tempted to ask if he knew any other stories, but I was too polite for that. And in retrospect he taught me a valuable lesson: no story is ever told the same way twice.

I.

The sun warmed her hair and cold water surged around her waders. Goldilocks cast and immediately felt a tug. She’d matched the hatch perfectly, her favorite wet caddis fly working perfectly. This one could be at least thirty inches, she thought, playing the trout at the end of the line. She gently tugged it toward her. Her heart beating in her ears mingled with the buzz of gnats all around her. The whole world was radiant. Within herself she felt the tug of conflicting emotions. She couldn’t wait to get back to camp but she also wanted this moment to last forever. She was so engrossed she didn’t notice the three bears approaching the river.

II.

“And that takes us back to the main foyer,” said Goldilocks, leading them out of the dining room. “Well, what do you think?”

Mama Bear looked sideways at Papa Bear. He looked uneasy.

“Well…” he said.

“What?” Goldilocks forced herself to count to ten. She’d shown these people three houses in the last two weeks and there had been something wrong with every one. At one they’d even refused to get out of the car. “This house has everything you’re looking for, doesn’t it? It’s a single level, in the right kind of neighborhood, near a park. It’s even got a guest bedroom. And it’s well within your price range. In fact,” she looked at her tablet and took a breath as discreetly as she could, “I think we could even negotiate a little bit lower. What could be the problem?”

Papa Bear shifted. “It’s the boy. He’s, you know, had problems. We really want to get him into the right school and I’m pretty sure this house is outside that district.”

Goldilocks looked back at her tablet. “I see. Well, I have a friend at the board of education and I think we could get him a waiver. It would mean you’d have to drive him but that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Please say yes, she said to herself. If I don’t sell you people a house by the end of the day I’m going to jump out the window and run screaming down the street.

III.

Mrs. Bear rolled over in bed.

“Paul,” she hissed, shaking her husband’s shoulder. “Wake up. I think there’s someone in the house.”

He grunted. “Good. Maybe they’ll steal that urn with your mother’s ashes.”

She hissed again. “I’m serious! I think they’re downstairs!”

Mr. Bear responded by pulling the blanket up over his head.

She slipped out of bed and picked up a heavy floor lamp. She opened the door quietly and moved forward, then stepped back to unplug the lamp. She wrapped the cord around the base and crept back out into the hall. She put a hand on the bannister. Her ears pricked. There was the noise again. It wasn’t coming from downstairs. It was coming from her left, in Ben’s room. She opened the door and snapped on the light.

“GOTCHA!”

Ben was straddling the window. He looked so shocked she was afraid for a moment he was going to fall out but recovered quickly.

“Downstairs, mister. Now.”

She added a little milk to her tea to cool it then pushed the jug over to him.

“You were out with her again, weren’t you? What were you two up to? Breaking into another house?”

He wouldn’t look at her.

“Next time I just might tell the cops to lock you up. How would you like that?”

He still kept his head down.

She sighed. “What is it with you? What happened to Pamela? Pamela was nice.”

“She broke up with me, remember?” he said quietly.

Good job, go ahead and rub salt in that old wound said a voice in her head that sounded like Paul’s.

“Sorry.” She took a sip of tea. “And Angela? I liked Angela.” She hoped this wasn’t a mark against Angela. Ben hadn’t been a rebellious boy until recently. He stayed silent.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t know what it is but I don’t like you seeing that Goldilocks. She’s got a criminal record and she’s nothing but trouble. She’s not good for you.”

“I think she’s just right,” he muttered into his milk.

This is some party, isn’t it? The Thorns really don’t spare any expense. I’ve been to some of the other events they’ve put on and they always go big, but this is pretty huge even for them. I guess since the kid’s adopted they want to make a big deal out of his first birthday. They’re trying to make him feel welcome and all. I wonder if he’ll even notice it or remember any of it.

I noticed that weird birthmark too! It’s kind of hard to miss. Maybe that’s why Mrs. Thorn keeps putting his little cap back on. Isn’t that cute? You’re right, it does look kind of like a cluster of 9’s. At least it did earlier. Maybe it’ll change as he gets older. His hair will cover it up anyway. You want to hear something weird? That priest thought it looked like something completely different. You know, the priest who was harassing the family a while back. He kept saying it looked like the Roman numerals DCLXVI. He said that even stood for something from Revelations. What a crackpot. That was right before he was killed in that freak accident when a gargoyle fell off his church right on top of him.

Is it just me or do a lot of crazy accidents seem to happen around this kid? No, really, I mean it. Did you hear about his pediatrician? Oh, this is too weird. His pediatrician said the kid had jackal blood. I know, right? I didn’t even know they tested for that sort of thing. I asked my kid’s pediatrician and she thought I was insane. I guess doctors all have different opinions. Anyway right after the pediatrician said that he was killed in that freak elevator accident. The investigators said it was really a million to one chance something like that would happen. Well, I guess that was the millionth chance. Maybe it’s not that weird. People win the lottery too every day, right? I guess it was just bad luck.

The accident the maid had isn’t nearly as weird. I know she yelled at him the same day it happened but what was she thinking? Who in their right mind cleans a chandelier from the second floor landing on a rickety old ladder? Really. It’s like she was just asking for a fall. Lucky for the Thorns that new maid was available to start right away. Well Mr. Thorn said it was lucky. Between you and me Mrs. Thorn—you know, Rosemary—she doesn’t like the new nanny one bit. She especially doesn’t like that big dog that came with her, but the dog is very protective of the kid. I told her they should consider obedience classes. She said she’ll look into that but it’s like the dog is very well trained already and will do anything the kid or the nanny wants. I guess that’s a good thing.

There really is something weird about him. The kid, I mean. Have you noticed he never cries? He just seems, I don’t know, really intense. And what’s the deal with the choir that follows him around? It seems like they always start chanting right when somebody’s about to die. The priest, the pediatrician, the maid, that private investigator who was looking into the orphanage, the photographer who said there were strange shadows in the pictures, the kooky archaeologist with the daggers, the nurse that drew his blood, the cousin who was afraid of the kid. I’m not saying the choir had anything to do with all those deaths. I mean, those were all accidents, right? There goes the choir starting up again.

Have you noticed the kid’s been staring at us this whole time?

These morning walks with Bruce are the best. The afternoon walks are good too, but in the mornings it’s cooler and still damp. Everything smells so much better when it’s a little wet. Smell rises in the mist. Bruce is going the wrong way. Why is he doing that? I try to pull him the other way but he’s insistent. Okay, I’ll go with him.

Chipmunks have been here. And rabbits. I’m getting that more earthy smell of rabbits here. Squirrels too. I got a squirrel once. One good shake and there was squirrel everywhere. That was fun. It surprised me so much as soon as Bruce called me I went running to him. He cleaned it all up, but I could smell squirrel guts in the driveway for a week after that.

This is okay but I’m worried we’re going to miss Treat Lady. I like Treat Lady. I like her a lot. I look forward to seeing her. She always has something for me. Sometimes it’s cheese. Cheese is my favorite, but it’s good when it’s something crunchy. She’s nice. She smells like a cat. I’ve never really been around cats but I know what they smell like and I like that. And sometimes her legs have tiny little cuts on them that I have to sniff very carefully. When her legs are bare and have those little cuts they also smell like perfumy soap that makes me sneeze. It’s a little like the stuff Bruce used to use on his face. He’d get cuts on his face too. Then he got the buzzy thing. It attacks his face every morning. He holds it but it still manages to get all over his face. I don’t like it. Sometimes after he’s pulled it off and made it get quiet he lets me sniff it. It smells like his face and his hair and also kind of burned. I really don’t like it. Sometimes I have to tell it to stay away from me. I don’t know why Bruce thinks that’s funny. He can be so weird.

He used to feed me and take a shower after we’d go for a walk, but now he takes a shower first. We used to just get up and go. Then after we started meeting Treat Lady every day he would get up earlier and take a shower before we left. The first time I stuck my head under the shower curtain and watched him and waited for him to figure out he was doing it wrong. He didn’t, even when I stood by the door and told him I really needed to go. He was really messing up my schedule. Sometimes I have to remind Bruce about things. I have to go in circles or stand right by the food box because he’s got the voice maker pressed up to his face and he’s talking to it. Sometimes I have to speak sharply to the couch because my ball’s under there and that’s the only way I can get Bruce to get it out. When we’re lying in bed together and he moves I have to let out a long sigh to remind him he’s not supposed to move while I’m trying to sleep. And when someone knocks on the door I have to yell a lot to let them know I’m here and that this is my house. Bruce doesn’t appreciate how important that is.

The next few days Bruce kept taking a shower before our walk and I said, okay, this is something new and different, like getting to know Treat Lady, but not as good.

This tree smells like squirrels. Like a lot of squirrels. And a dog. Bruce lets me stop and pee on it. I lift my leg really high to let them know how big I am. Usually Bruce pulls me away when I scratch at the ground with my back feet to let those squirrels know how serious I am, but today he just lets me do it. We’re going very slowly today.

There’s a person with a dog on the other side of the street. Maybe it’s that same dog I smelled on the tree. I can’t tell. I stay close to Bruce. The dog says something to me. I ignore it. We walk on. I’m glad Bruce doesn’t try to stop. There’s too much new and different already today.

There’s a spot on the ground that smells like it could be from that dog. I hope we’re not going to keep going this way every day, but I pee on it just in case.

I wonder if this has anything to do with Treat Lady. Yesterday when we saw her I could smell Bruce getting sweaty and his body tensed up. I could feel him getting warm when he was talking to her. It was weird. He wasn’t angry but his voice was tight and he kept twisting the leash. He breathed really fast and really heavily, and Treat Lady didn’t look at me as much as she usually does. She gave me something crunchy that was salty and stringy, and then Bruce and I had to walk away really fast. When we got to the big tree at the intersection, the one with the funky, musky smell I don’t recognize I barely had time to pee before Bruce was pulling me on again. Then when we got home he banged the bowl around while he made me breakfast and that hurt my ears.

Bruce didn’t shower this morning, and the buzzy thing stayed where it is. He’s very slow this morning. He’s not pointing out the squirrels to me. Maybe he misses Treat Lady too. I feel like I should do something to cheer him up. I’ll bring him this stick. That’ll make him happy. He always likes it when I bring him a stick. Hey! Birds!