24

 

       ERIC

 

   The sky is not black.  They say that it's black and that the night is pitch black.  It is blue.  No different than day except that it's darker.  So dark that they think it's different, that it's black and different from day.  I don't think there's any difference at all.

    Doug says that if you stare into the sky long enough you'll go crazy, that the size of it will drive you nuts.  I can't see how you can talk about it having size like you could touch it or hold it.  You can't.  Size has nothing to do with it.  It's the color.  It's so blue, so much bluer than anything else that's blue that the blueness of it'll do it, drive you crazy trying to explain how it can be no different from the blue of day and the blue of water and the blue of eyes, and yet nothing like them at all.  They gave me this telescope to watch the stars, but I hardly ever do.  I don't notice them usually.  They're just little spaces          little white holes in the blue.

    The yelling stops.  He comes out the door and stands for a second.  I can feel him looking at me.  I want to turn around and smile, but he might think I mean something by it, that I was listening.  I never listen anymore.  I never decided that; I just stopped.  It's just there for me now like a wall you walk by every day but never look at.  You can't tell somebody what color it is or if there's a picture hanging there.  I just act like I haven't heard him and keep looking up into the sky.

    He waits for a minute and then walks past me, down the steps.  I can't act like I don't see him any longer.  Where you going?

    Up to check on your grandfather.

    You want me to go along?  I ask because I should ask it.  I don't want to go up there.  I hate it that I don't want to, but Grandpa wants something from me that I don't know how to give.  His just being there wants something from me.  Doug can laugh at him and not mean it.  He can love him and hate him at the same time,          but I can't.  I cannot stand it that I can't.  Doug just stands there and laughs and looks at me because he knows that the coldness is climbing up me, climbing like spiders up under my clothes.  He makes faces like he does and acts like his teeth are loose because he knows I cannot stand to look at him.  When he laughs it is as much at me as it is at Grandpa.

    I breathe again and nod when he says no, that he doesn't want me to go along.  The sky is blue through the telescope as I hear the car drive off.

    Art?

    The crickets start up again.  They only sing in the spaces that are blue--the darkest, bluest blue.

    He's gone.  He went up to Grandpa's again.  I don't take my eye from the eyecup.

    Oh.  Well, you bring that thing and come in here.  Just because it's getting nice out doesn't mean anything.  You still have school for another month or so.  You have to take a bath yet.  C'mon, get in here!  There's nothing to see out there anyway.