A lot of strange things had been happening to Zac.
Yesterday, Dan and Nora had taken everybody out in the car and they’d driven off to a big parking lot with a bunch of trees growing out of it. They’d run around, asking "Which one do you like better?" even though they all looked the same. And then they’d found one they liked, tied it to the roof of the car, and taken it home with them. Dan had strung lights on it. . . Zac didn’t know why. He didn’t think Dan liked the lights very much. He didn’t seem very happy after he’d finished.
Maybe that was because not all of the lights on the tree seemed to be working. Only some of them on the bottom and the top were, while the lights in the middle stayed just as dark as they’d been before Dan had plugged them in. Dan had to take them all off and start over. Before he’d taken them off, he’d said something very bad. Zac wasn’t even supposed to say it, it was so bad. Dan had told Zac to pretend he’d never even heard it, it was so bad. Zac had heard it before, though. His mother said it a lot. But he decided to pretend he’d never heard it, anyway.
Tomorrow, Nora said, they were going to put ornaments on the tree. Zac didn’t know what ornaments were. He thought maybe Nora meant oranges. Maybe the tree was an orange tree? Maybe oranges grew on it?
That didn’t make any sense, Zac decided. You didn’t have to put oranges on a tree that was already going to grow some of it’s own. Maybe they needed to put oranges on the tree so the tree could remember what kind of tree it was? So that it knew what oranges looked like so it would know what kind of fruit to grow?
Isaac said the tree wasn’t going to grow anymore, though. Isaac said that someone had cut the tree down. When someone cut a tree down, it didn’t grow. "What are they going to do with it?" Zac had asked.
"Maybe they’re going to chop it up for firewood," Taylor suggested.
"So the heating bill won’t be so high." Isaac had agreed. "But I think you decorate it first. And then maybe you burn it." He was hazy about what one did with Christmas trees after Christmas was over.
"With the decorations still on it?" Taylor asked.
Isaac shook his head. "I don’t know."
Zac wondered when Dan and Nora would burn the Christmas tree. Maybe that was what Christmas trees were for? You covered them with lights and oranges, then moved them outside, stuck them in the yard, and set them on fire. That way Santa Claus could find your house. Maybe that was why Santa Claus had never come before, Zac thought. They didn’t have a yard to burn their tree in.
The people across the street didn’t have a Christmas tree in their yard, though. Instead, they had life-sized plastic statutes of carolers in their yard, massive figures of lightweight plastic that were lit from within by high powered light bulbs. The four of them stood, a mother, father, little boy and little girl, their mouths open in song and their eyes raised toward heaven, amid a sea of electric outdoor candles and Christmas lights, while Silent Night played dimly in the background.
Zac was terrified of them. They were worse than burning Christmas trees.
He stared out the living room window with his hands pressed against the glass, his eyes wide and his mouth open. A recent rise in temperature had brought with it a heavy rainstorm, turning the snow into an icy slush and speckling the windows with drops of water. Every beam of light outside was reflected and multiplied, surrounding the plastic carolers in a shimmering orb of green, red and yellow. Zac swallowed. He thought he saw the father move.
"They’re going to come and get us in the night," he said aloud. "No one will be left alive."
"Um." Isaac, kneeling next the coffee table, lifted a crayon out of the cookie tin that lay on top of yesterday’s newspaper and started in on the sheet of vanilla colored paper that lay in front of him. He had to draw that holiday picture, as much as he didn’t want to.
"Dan will have to hit them with a baseball bat," Zac intoned. "He’ll have to crack their heads open."
"Yep." Isaac, conscious of nothing except the fact that he couldn’t find the forest green crayon, and there was no way he was coloring his Christmas tree in yellow green, rummaged through the cookie tin. "Come on, where are you?"
"Maybe they’ll get you first," Zac threatened. "Because you’re bigger than me."
"Um. That’s nice." Isaac sighed hugely, frustrated. He was going to write the Crayola company, and they were going to hear about this! "Go away, okay? And quit talking. I’m trying to concentrate. This is homework, and it’s really important. Maybe Tay will play with you."
Zac shook his head. "Tay’s fishie-ing."
"He doesn’t have any fishes." Isaac had just about given up when his eyes lit upon a solitary crayon on the floor next to the couch. He snickered. "You thought you could get away. . ."
"I telled him there was no fishies," Zac said. "He said there were."
"Well, then. . ." Isaac considered this for a moment. "Maybe you should go tell him that there aren’t." He paused. "Zac, what do you think I should draw for my holiday picture?"
Zac thought for a moment. "Do the burning Christmas trees," he suggested.
Isaac’s eyes grew wide. "Great idea!" he exclaimed. "That’s the best idea I ever heard!"
"Or you could draw Dan killing the people across the street with the baseball bat," Zac suggested. "The carolalers."
"Hmm. . ." Isaac contemplated the picture he would draw. "Maybe I could do them both?"
"Hey, guess what!" Without warning, Taylor rushed into the room, trailing a cardboard paper towel tube behind him. A string was attached to the end of it, and the string dragged on the floor. "I caught a great big fish, and we’re having it for dinner."
Isaac and Zac exchanged a look of disbelief. "No you didn’t," Zac decided.
"No you didn’t," Isaac agreed.
Taylor looked taken aback, but only for a few seconds. "I did too!" he insisted." We're having it for dinner. Come and see!"
Zac glanced at Isaac, to see what his oldest brother was going to do. Surprisingly, Isaac shrugged, stood up, and followed Taylor into the kitchen. Shooting a backward glance at the carolers, as blurry as a watercolor painting outside the rain-streaked window, Zac hurried to catch up with them.
"We’re having spaghetti," Isaac was telling Taylor.
"It’s just my fish PRETENDING to be paskettis," Taylor explained.
"Oh, that must be why." Isaac rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, that must be why." Zac was satisfied. On tiptoe, he peered up at the bowl of spaghetti that was sitting on the countertop. "Your fishie is good at p’tending to be isketti."
"Not isketti." Taylor giggled. "Paskettis."
"Iskettis," Zac repeated.
"Paskettis, paskettis, paskettis," Taylor sang to himself. "Oh I do like paskettis. In the morning, in the sunshine, in the rain. . ."
Isaac shook his head, sighing. "I’m going to go draw some more," he decided, aloud, starting back toward the living room.
"Paskettis in the night, paskettis in the wintertime, paskettis in the summertime," Taylor went on. "Paskettis that look like worms, and paskettis that look like fishes. . ."
Taylor’s pasketti song pleased him very much. In fact, he continued to add verses for the next fifteen minutes, long after Zac had wandered off to stare at the carolers again and Nora came by to tell him it was time for dinner. Taylor slipped his hand into hers.
"Do you like paskettis, Nora?"
Nora nodded. "Mmmhmm. Do you?"
Taylor looked up at her. "Actually, I like garlic bread better. . ."
"Then what was that song you were singing before?" Nora inquired, puzzled.
"I was pretending I was doing a pasketti commercial," Taylor explained, seriously.
Nora nodded again, trying to hide her smile. "I see."
"Yeah, me too." Taylor agreed, happily. "When is Christmas?"
Nora bit her lip. "Actually, we were going to have a talk about that. . ."
"This morning we got a call from Mary," Dan said. He looked up. Three little faces were locked on his, waiting apprehensively for what he would say next. "She’s been talking to your mother."
Taylor’s face lit up. "Is she coming?"
Nora sucked in her breath through clenched teeth. "Um, well, that was what she wanted to talk to us about. . ."
"She didn’t do anything. . . stupid?" Isaac whispered. He knew his mother. In fact, if he wasn’t there to keep an eye on her, he didn’t know what she’d end up doing.
"No." Dan shook his head. "In fact, she’s doing pretty well."
"She’s been working really hard these past few weeks," Nora agreed. "I think she’s a lot better, Ike."
Isaac’s eyes darkened and he looked away. He didn’t know if he believed that or not. His mother must have gotten Mary to lie to Nora for her. His mother could do that, he knew.
"So is she coming?" Even seated on two telephone books, Taylor could hardly reach the table. He bounced on his knees, impatient.
" Actually. . ." Dan shot an uncomfortable glance at Nora, "how would you feel about going to see her?"
"Going to see her?" Isaac asked.
"To spend Christmas with her," Nora clarified. "She’s moving from a drug. . . I mean, a treatment center. . . to a halfway house in a few days. A halfway house is a place where she can live while she finds a job and gets things back together for herself."
"They let people’s kids come and stay with them for a few days around Christmas, if they want to," Dan said.
"What if you don’t want to?" Isaac asked.
"I think your mother really wants you to be there," Nora said. "All three of you."
"I want to go and see her!" Taylor volunteered.
Zac tugged on Isaac’s shirt. "What are they talking about?"
"Do you want to go stay with Mom for a couple of days?" Isaac asked him. "For Christmas?"
"Is she going to stay there the whole time and not go away?" Zac asked.
"How do they know they can trust her?" Isaac asked. His little brother had a point.
Nora felt helpless. She was wondering that herself. "I think a lot of people have been giving her support," she said. "There are people there who want to help her learn to take care of herself, so she can take care of you guys, too. That’s why your mommy’s there. . . she wants to try to do that."
"I think she should be able to try," Taylor agreed.
"I don’t," Isaac muttered, but he said it so quietly that no one heard him.
"So what do you think about that idea?" Dan asked. He was sitting on top of the closed toilet seat, flipping through an old issue of Woman’s Day, while Taylor and Zac took a bath. He’d left them unattended in the tub a few times, back in the beginning, figuring that anyone over the age of three was old enough to keep his head above water and get himself clean, but this habit had landed him a sound scolding from Nora, the reigning monarch of the emergency room.
"It takes only three inches of water for a little kid to drown. What if one of them slipped, Dan? And do you know how many other dangerous things there are in a bathroom? Razor blades? The medicine cabinet? The laundry hamper?"
"The laundry hamper?" Dan had asked, incredulously.
"One of them could fall in and suffocate!" Nora exclaimed. "You can’t leave them alone in the bath tub, Dan. It’s asking for trouble." She shook her head.
Dan wondered if anyone, in the whole history of time, had ever fallen into a wicker laundry hamper and suffocated, then thought the better of asking. For all he knew, maybe someone had. For all he knew, maybe it was possible. He thought of Taylor and Zac and decided he didn’t want to find out.
"I just don’t want them to think back on this ten years from now and decide that I was. . . a pedophile, or something." Dan faltered.
Nora’s eyes met his. "Dan. Anyone in his right mind sits with little kids while they take a bath. You can‘t trust them alone. They‘ll probably get into some kind of trouble."
Dan had to admit that that was true. He hadn’t told Nora, but two nights ago Taylor and Zac had flooded the entire bathroom floor, sending water spilling out into the hall and soaking everything from the bottom of the laundry hamper to an entire wastebasket full of garbage. This wasn’t really either of their faults. . . they just didn’t know how to turn the water off. In fact, Taylor admitted he’d been wondering if maybe the bathroom was "pretending to be a swimming pool." From that day on, Dan had watched those two in the bathroom as if they might go down the drain. Which, come to think of it, was another thing Zac was scared of.
"What idea?" Taylor asked, his mind as full of bubbles as the bathwater.
"Going to visit your mommy for Christmas," Dan said, shaking his head. (What other idea was there?)
"Oh!" Taylor nodded. "Oh. . . that idea!"
"Yeah, that one," Dan agreed. "What do you think of it?"
"I want to do it," Taylor said. "I want to see her."
"How about you Zac?" Dan asked.
Zac put the corner of the washcloth in his mouth and regarded Dan dubiously. He didn’t say anything.
"Is that a yes or a no?" Dan prodded.
Zac slid around until he faced the wall.
"He’s thinking about it," Taylor explained.
"Are you thinking about it, Zac?" Dan asked.
Zac didn’t turn around. "Yes," he squeaked.
"And have you decided anything yet?" Dan prodded.
Zac didn’t answer.
"What does Ike think about the whole thing?" Dan asked Taylor.
"He doesn’t want me to say," Taylor said, dabbing a fistful of bubbles onto his head.
"Why is that?" Dan asked.
"Because," Taylor sang. "Because because because!" He smiled. "He didn’t telled me anything yet."
"Oh." Dan nodded. "That’s why, then."
"But he doesn’t want to!" Taylor piped. "I can tell he doesn’t want to!"
"How do you know that?" Dan asked.
"Because." Taylor leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. "She makes him worried."
Dan swallowed. "Do you think he’ll go?"
Taylor’s smile was hard to read. "If I do."
"Nora?" Isaac stood in the doorway of the living room, peering around the frame. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, sweetie." Nora looked up from the paper and gestured to the spot on the couch next to her. "Sit down."
Isaac crept over, his bare feet noiseless on the hardwood floor. "It’s about that thing with my mother."
Nora nodded. "What are you worried about?"
"I’m worried that. . ." Isaac started, then began again. "I’m worried that maybe. . . I mean, actually, I just wanted to ask you. . ." he took a deep breath. "I just wanted to ask you if maybe. . ."
"If maybe," Nora prompted, gently.
"If maybe if I didn’t want to go I could stay here," Isaac burst out, so rapidly that the syllables all mixed together and Nora had to take a second to sort out what he’d said. It was a second in which Isaac’s breath caught in his throat and he stared up at her, terrified. He’d asked. What was going to happen now?
"You wouldn’t have to get me any presents or anything," he said. "I mean, it’s not that. . ."
"Honey. . ." Nora put an arm around him, taking a deep breath. "Honey, if you wanted to stay, we’d love to have you." She didn’t want to get his hopes up, because the odds that he would be able to stay were so slim. Still, she didn’t want to out and out reject him, either. "I just don’t know if that would be possible."
"She wants us to go," Isaac said, quietly.
"I think she really does," Nora said. "And I think she feels guilty about you, especially. She wants to make it up to you, Isaac."
He swallowed hard. His voice was tiny, unsteady. "Oh."
"Believe me, sweetie, we’d love to have all three of you stay, and we even offered to invite your mother up here so she could spend Christmas with you guys outside the halfway house. But I guess it works out better for her to have you guys come to stay with her there. It’ll just be three days. You can call us, if you want."
Isaac nodded, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. "Okay."
"If you really, really, really don’t want to go, you can talk to Mary about it," Nora said. "Maybe you can work something out with her. Still, I don’t feel that. . . Isaac, I don’t want to offend your mother by giving you permission to stay here. She might not understand why you don’t want to. That’s why I think it would be better to talk to Mary. She and your mother have more of an understanding. . ."
The words slipped by Isaac and he gave up trying to listen. He just nodded. Emotions swirled inside of him, and he didn’t want to cry.
"Isaac," Nora said, looking into his eyes, "if you get there, and it’s really bad. . . if there’s any reason you don’t feel safe staying there or you feel uncomfortable staying there, or whatever, call us. I swear to God, any time of the day or night Dan or I would get into the car and pick you guys up. It wouldn’t be a problem."
Isaac thought about this for a moment. "I couldn’t do that . . ." he started.
"You could," Nora said. "I hope you would, if you needed to."
"Um." Isaac bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know what to say.
Nora thought for a moment, trying to find words that expressed all she wanted to tell him. "Ike, do you understand why I can’t tell you that you don’t have to go? It isn’t because we wouldn’t want you to stay."
Isaac nodded. "Yeah. Thanks. I know that." He was quiet for a moment. "Nora?"
"Uh huh?"
"If you’re trying to draw a picture. . ."
"Uh huh?"
"And it’s supposed to be of a holiday. . ."
"Uh huh?"
"A holiday that your family celebrates. . ."
"Yeah. . ."
"And you can’t think of any. . ." Isaac sighed.
"What were you going to say?" Nora asked.
"Is it okay if you just take a holiday your family never celebrated, and you draw that?" Isaac drew in an uncertain breath, hoping for approval.
Nora hugged him, nodding. "If that’s what you want to do. . ."
"Actually, I asked Dan what I should draw," Isaac explained. "Back when I couldn’t think of anything to draw and was drawing stupid Santa Clauses."
"And what did he tell you to do?" Nora asked.
"He said to draw whatever made me happy." Isaac told her.
Nora raised an eyebrow. "Is your teacher going to like it?" she inquired, smiling.
Isaac shook his head. "No."
"So. . . what are you going to tell her?" Nora asked him.
Isaac thought for a moment. "That it made me happy," he grinned.
Nora nodded. "I hope it works."
"If she makes me do it over," Isaac decided, "I’ll just copy off the front of a Christmas card."
Nora hugged him again. "If she doesn’t like it, give it to me and I’ll frame it."
"You will?" Isaac was shocked. No one had ever even stuck anything he’d done on the refrigerator, let alone framed it. "I don’t draw that good."
"I’m sure you do," Nora contested. "Anyway, what’s important to me is that you did it. In fact, maybe I can have it when the teacher’s done with it? Because she’ll probably like it."
Isaac swallowed. "I don’t know why you’d want to, but you can."