If Only (4 page)

Danny

That night, Danny dreams they're at the farm.

He and Pam are hiking the Bear Trail, which climbs the hillside at the bottom of the cornfield. Pop named it the Bear Trail fifty years ago, when he and Nana had just bought the farm. He said he and his dog Jack had run into a black bear that must have weighed four hundred and fifty pounds. The bear ran away, but not before it scared the daylights out of Pop and Jack.

Pop said there used to be lots of bears and sometimes even cougars on the farm. That was when Dad lived there as a kid. Now the only wildlife you see are deer and coyotes and, in the spring, sandhill cranes. Pop says that's because of the new subdivisions that are going up everywhere and eating up the farmland.

In the dream, Danny and Pam climb right to the top of the hill. For most of the trail, you're in forest, and then you come out into the open, where it's rocky and you can see a long way. You can see everything from up there: Pop and Nana's house with its red roof and a porch that goes right around it, the little brown house where Dad and Pam and
Danny lived, the dairy barn that used to have cows in it, and the field that Pop planted every spring with corn.

The farm still belongs to Pop, but a family is renting it for now. Pop had a heart attack, but it was just a little one, and he has moved into a nursing home. But Pop says he's going back as soon as he gets stronger. Danny believes him.

That's all that happens in the dream. Just Danny and Pam climbing up through the forest, which is all dewy and cool, and then standing on the hot sunny rocks, looking down at the farm.

In the dream, Nana is still alive. She is bent over in her vegetable garden, weeding. Jack is with her. Not the same Jack as the one that ran into the bear. Danny thinks it's Jack the Fourth or maybe Fifth. Pop and Nana have always had black labs, and they have always named them Jack. Pam and Danny take turns hollering at Nana from way up there on top of the hill, and they are killing themselves laughing, but of course Nana can't hear.

Then Danny wakes up. He feels happy for five seconds, like he is still laughing, and then really sad. Everything from last year comes back. First Nana died in the spring from a stroke, and then Jack died. (Pop said because he missed Nana so much.) Then in the summer Pop had his heart attack, maybe because he was missing both Nana and Jack.

Danny closes his eyes and tries to bring the dream back, but it doesn't work. He wonders how Pop is doing in the nursing home. The main reason they moved off the farm was so they could be closer to Pop. Also, Dad was getting sick of the hour-and-a-half commute into the city to his job.

Until Dad broke his shoulder, they'd visited Pop every Saturday and one evening during the week. Pop complained all the time about the lousy food and the nurses and the other old people (he called them zombies).You could always tell he was glad they'd come.

Today is Saturday, and Danny wonders if Pop is hanging around the
TV
room hoping they might show up. He rolls out of bed and listens for noises coming out of Pam's room. Nothing. He gets dressed, digs some coins out of the box in his dresser where he keeps his allowance and walks softly down the hall past Dad's room. In the kitchen, he puts a slice of bread into the toaster, and while he is waiting, he gets the bus schedule out of the drawer and studies it.

It would be a lot easier if he had a bike. He and Pam used to have bikes, but the gear changer on Pam's was broken and Danny's had worn-out tires and no proper brakes, so they left them at the farm. Danny had been hoping for new bikes for their birthdays this summer, but when he brought it up, Dad said, “Christ, Danny, I've had no paycheck for two months. Do you think money grows on trees?”

They always drive in Dad's car to see Pop, so Danny sort of knows the way. The bus schedule is complicated, but Danny works out a route he figures will get him close enough that he can walk the rest of the way.

He spreads jam on the toast, grabs his jacket and lets himself out of the house.

Danny goofs up the bus route and ends up having to walk almost a mile. He doesn't care. It gives him time to think about things. Mostly he is thinking how if they'd never left the farm, Pam wouldn't have been attacked. A lot of things would be different. Pam wouldn't want to wear miniskirts and makeup, and they wouldn't have Mrs. Glassen, and Danny'd see Pop every day.

The nursing home is called Shady Haven, but there isn't a tree in sight around the big concrete building. When he goes in the front door, the first thing Danny sees is a row of really old people sitting in wheelchairs, staring at nothing. Danny recognizes a couple of them from his last visit—a shriveled-up lady with thinning snow-white hair and a pink scalp, and a guy in a suit who gives a little salute and says, “Ahoy, captain.”

Danny checks in at the office. A woman who looks like a nurse remembers Danny and tells him that Pop is in his room.

“He'll be thrilled to have a visitor,” she says. She smiles, but Danny can tell she knows how long it is since anyone has been to see Pop, and he feels bad.

Every other time Danny's been here, Pop has been in the
TV
room, usually arguing with some old guy about what channel to watch. Danny has never seen Pop's bedroom. He takes the elevator up to the third floor and wanders down a long hallway. There is a plaque on Pop's door with his name on it:
Frank Sanders
. Danny taps on the door. “Pop?” he says.

He waits a few seconds and then opens the door. Pop is sitting in an armchair beside a window that looks out on the parking lot. He is wearing pajamas, and he has a gray blanket over his lap. His hands are folded and his head is kind of sunk on his chest.

Danny almost thinks he has the wrong room. The man in the chair looks too small and shrunken to be Pop. He says “Pop?” again and the old man looks up, and Danny sees that it's him, all right. His chin is all grizzled, like he hasn't shaved for a while, but his eyes are the same as ever, bright blue and piercing.

“Well, it's Danny,” he says. “Sit down.”

There is nowhere to sit except the bed, which is covered by an orange blanket. Danny sits on the edge and glances around. The room is tiny, with just the bed and the armchair and a dresser. There is an open door beside the dresser, and he can see into a bathroom that has a super-high toilet with a metal bar beside it.

All the way here, he's thought he should tell Pop about what happened to Pam, but now he changes his mind because he'd also have to tell him about hugging the tree. Danny couldn't bear it if Pop looked at him the same way Dad and the cop did.

So instead, to fill up the silence, he says, “Not watching
TV
, huh?”

“Nah, I'm kinda busy,” says Pop. “I got some stuff to sort through.” He leans forward. “You didn't happen to see what was for lunch?”

There is a menu on the wall in the elevator, which Danny read on the way up. “Tomato soup and egg sandwiches,” he says. “And cherry Jell-O.”

Pop grunts and then says, “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much.”

“How's your sister?”

“Good.” Danny searches for news. “Dad's coming to see you as soon as he gets the brace off and can drive.”

Pop nods. “Yeah, he left a message with the nurse.”

Danny wonders if he should tell Pop how Dad has started drinking a lot more beer since the accident but decides that will just worry him. “I've been thinking about the farm. Maybe I'll take the bus out there to make sure everything's all right. It's about time for those sandhill cranes to come back.”

Pop doesn't say anything. He gazes out the window for a bit and then turns back to Danny. “We always did like seeing those cranes, you and me, didn't we?” he says. “And the lynx. Remember the time you saw the lynx? Your eyes nearly popped outta your head.”

Danny frowns. “What? That wasn't me, Pop. That was Dad, when he was a kid.” Danny has heard the story, lots of times.

“Your little brother cried and cried. He thought it was a kitty and we could bring it home.”

Danny's heart skips a beat. “You mean Uncle George,” he says. “Not
my
brother. Dad's brother.” He adds weakly, “I'm
Danny
.”

“You think I don't know that?” Pop's eyes drift closed.

Danny waits for a long time and then finally gets up. He stops at the doorway and looks back. Pop's hands are twitching on the gray blanket.

“We're going back to live on the farm, aren't we,
Pop?” Danny says softly. “You and me and Pam and Dad.
We're going back.”

Pop doesn't open his eyes. Danny has to strain to hear his words. “You better believe it, son. As soon as I get outta here.”

On the way back, Danny gets off the bus early and walks and walks. He looks at his watch once; it's past one o'clock. He figures Pop will have eaten his egg sandwiches and Jell-O. He hopes he's decided to go and watch
TV
instead of staying shut up in his room by himself.

Danny kicks a rock down the sidewalk, keeping it going for two whole blocks, thinking about how different Pop is. It makes him sick to think how Pop mixed up him and Dad. Can a heart attack change someone that much? Maybe it's being in that place with all the zombies. In that case, someone better get Pop out quick.

Danny comes around the corner to his school. Some kids are throwing around a basketball. He picks up the rock and likes the feel of it, heavy and smooth, in his hand. He walks around to the back of the school, where the gym is. There is a row of outdoor lights along the side of the building. He studies them for a moment and then hurls his rock.

It smashes the glass around the first light. Danny bites down on his lip hard and holds his breath, waiting to see if anyone is coming. He can still hear the kids out front yelling things at each other. He finds some more rocks beside the chain-link fence and breaks every light, one after the other, spraying pieces of glass across the ground. When he is finished, he realizes he is crying. He wipes his hand across his cheeks, and then he turns away to go home.

Pam

What's Danny doing?

He's been gone most of Saturday, and it bugs me that I don't know where. He slams his bedroom door when he gets back. I get that he doesn't want to talk to me, but I'm desperate to know where he's been. And I
have
to know what happened at school yesterday.

I'm lying on my bed when the phone rings. I count the rings—five—and then I guess Dad picks it up.

What if it's Stacey? I've been practicing what I'll say if she calls. I've even imagined Stacey saying she's coming over right away. We'll listen to records in my room together and she'll tell me that everyone at school is talking about me, but in a good way, like I'm some kind of hero. She'll tell me that the girls in the popular group—her group—all say hi.

Danny doesn't like Stacey. He's never said anything except for one time last month. He'd talked me into hanging out in the
Jolly Roger
. We hadn't done that since last summer, and I didn't want to at first, but it turned out okay, just playing Monopoly and taking turns drinking hot chocolate from the thermos that's missing its cup.

I was jabbering on about Stacey and I didn't think Danny was really listening, because he was stacking his money into neat piles, straightening the edges carefully like he always does.

We argued for a minute about whether you could buy houses after you'd rolled the dice for your turn. Then Danny said, right out of the blue, “Why do you like Stacey so much?”

“Everybody likes Stacey,” I said. “She's cool.”

“She's mean.”

“No she's not.”

“Tell that to the kids she draws those stupid cartoons about.”

I didn't think Danny knew about that. He seems so apart from everyone at school. But then, I guess everyone knows. Stacey draws these cartoons, usually at the lunch table, and sometimes a crowd gathers. The cartoons are really good. You can tell exactly who they're supposed to be. Mostly they're teachers, and they don't care. Mr. Charon, our
PE
teacher, even laughed when he saw the picture Stacey drew of him with his big nose and square chin.

I'm not the only one who thinks they're funny. Everyone does.

There was only this one time that I didn't even smile. Stacey drew Hugh, with his round glasses, lying on the floor on his back with his legs in the air like a turtle. I felt bad because Hugh is Danny's best friend and he's kind of different, but he's okay.

I guess there was one other time too. Stacey drew this girl and at first I thought she had chicken pox, and then I realized it was that girl in grade nine with the worst acne I've ever seen, who walks around with her head down all the time.

Anyway, Danny was tidying the money in the bank and I was trying to think of some way to defend Stacey. “She can be really nice too,” I remember saying.

“Yeah?” Danny said sarcastically.

I landed on Boardwalk after that, which was loaded with Danny's hotels, and I didn't care because the game was wrecked for me by then. I was mad at Danny, and cold, and I wanted to go back inside.

But it was true what I said. About Stacey being nice. She's done lots of nice things for me. Sharing her fries in the cafeteria. Passing me the ball in basketball. Letting me copy some math homework. Lending me her clothes.

I'm sure she's going to call.

Dad yells down the hall for Danny. So it's not Stacey on the phone. Hugh, then. Hugh is the only person who ever phones Danny.

My legs suddenly vibrate with electricity. I have to
do
something. I jump off my bed and peer out my window. The street is dead.

I pace around my room and then stop in front of the dresser and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes look like dark holes and my skin is gray, as if my freckles have actually faded. I have witch hair, matted and tangled.

My throat is dry. I pick up the ends of my hair. I started growing it in grade four, and it's taken me all this time to get it so long. I love the color—kind of in between blond and brown, like I've been out in the sun—and I love the way it feels on my back. Except now it's a mess.

All the girls at school have long hair. Is that really true? I think of a girl I've seen in the halls with short curly red hair and also that girl in my grade with the boy's name, Billie, who has jet-black hair in a pixie cut. And there are others too.

Well,
most
of the girls at school have long hair. Definitely the popular girls. Sheets of shiny hair that swing when they walk. No one would call Billie popular. She wears weird clothes, putting colors together that you aren't supposed to, like purple and orange. She tried to be my friend in September and phoned me at least six times before she gave up. Not a chance I was going to be paired up with her.

I pick up the ends of my hair and then let them fall. Popular girls have long hair. And they wear miniskirts and makeup.
Popular
girls. According to Stacey, girls that guys like. Does that mean guys
don't
like girls with short hair? That they don't grab them and drag them into the bushes?

“You look like a slut.”

I lick my lips and swallow. I stand by my door for a second, listening, and then creep out of my room and into the bathroom. I lock the door. My heart is racing out of control.

Calm down
, I tell myself.

Breathe
.

Then I open the drawer under the sink and take out a pair of scissors.

It should be hard, but it isn't. I bunch up my hair on one side and hack at it with the scissors. It makes a weird rasping sound, and chunks of hair fall onto my bare feet. I cut it off just below my ear and then stare into the mirror at a ghost face with lopsided hair. Me. But not me. A stranger who has gone too far to go back now.

I cut the other side, trying to make it match, but it doesn't. The first side is longer and more jagged. I try to trim it, but I make it worse.

“You look like a slut.”

Not anymore, Dad
.

Now I'm a freak
.

I'm terrified by what I've done.