The Incredible Magic of Being

  I even go inside to show it to my family. Maybe it’ll brighten their evening, too. And I’m hoping to segue into a conversation about seeing the Dog Star. Segue is sort of like deflect. In deflect you want to change the subject without the other person noticing because you want to get away from the first topic and it doesn’t really matter what the second topic is, it’s just a distraction. With segue, you want to change the subject but you don’t really care what the first topic is; it’s the second topic that’s really important.

  I tell them about the rocks I’ve been getting, maybe from Mr. X, and hold this new one up for them to see. “Look, guys, this shows where the Dog Star is!”

  Mom is more impressed with Mr. X than the rock. “I think it shows how much Mr. X cares about you.”

  Pookie snorts.

  Mom glares at her. “It’s very special to receive love like that.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Pookie says, all snarly, but I can see her lip quivering before she turns, storms into the pantry, and slams the cupboard door.

  Joan rolls her eyes.

  Mom sighs.

  I clutch my stomach because underneath Pookie being loud and teenager-y, I can uni-sense how much she’s hurting. Through the pantry door I see her pick up her empty DAD picture frame, and I wish there was a way I could help her fill it.

  I’m standing in the water all the way up to my ankles. With BOTH legs. It feels like the water is cold fists around my ankles grabbing tighter and tighter, not letting go, pulling me, dragging me into the water until I scream and manage to break away and run for land, where I fall, shaking but safe.

  When I look back at Mr. X he’s looking up at the sky, although his eyes are closed.

  “Jeez, squirt!” Pookie yells from her lounge chair. “You’re so embarrassing!”

  Mr. X makes his grumbly sound but I can tell he means it for Pookie, not me. “Come back here,” he says quietly.

  I do, but I’m not happy about it.

  “Where are your goggles?” he says.

  “I don’t need them.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not going underwater.”

  He grunts. “OK, maybe not today. How about tomorrow?”

  “Nope.”

  “When?”

  “When I’m twenty,” because, I say inside my head, I may be dead by then.

  He starts to speak but I deflect.

  “The dog tag for Sirius is really cool, by the way. It’s a beautiful blue, just like the sky.”

  “Or the water,” he says.

  “Or the sky,” I say back.

  “Speaking of the water,” he says, “let’s swim.”

  I make a grumbly sound like Mr. X but I try, sort of, to swim. I wade even deeper into the water, up to my knees, but when the water gets beyond my knees it grips so tight I panic. I turn and start to shore, but have you ever tried to run in water? It won’t let you run like a normal person, it keeps grabbing your legs and trying to pull you back in. Once you free your knees, the water clutches your calves and once you get your calves clear it grips your ankles even stronger because it’s mad that you’re escaping. I’m gasping for breath by the time I reach shore, which is ten steps, I counted, but it’s the longest ten steps I’ve taken in my entire life, and I know how Robinson Crusoe felt when he finally got his feet on dry land and kissed the ground. I want to kiss the ground, too, except Pookie is rolling her whole head at me and not just her eyes.

  Mr. X lets me take a break and we walk over to his patio.

  “Good!” Pookie yells and gets in the lake.

  “What’s her problem?” Mr. X says.

  “She wants her dad.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Our dads were sperm donors who don’t want to be identified. Mom has told her that like a kajillion times.”

  Mr. X’s eyebrows go up.

  “We come from different dads. We’re both from Mom, though. That means—”

  “I know what it means.” He’s holding his hands up in front of his face and turning away like someone just offered him a plate of slugs in liver sauce.

  “It’s not that big a deal. I hope you’re not going to act like some of the kids at school.”

  He puts his hands down and turns toward me again. “Why? How do they act?”

  I imitate their voices. “You’re such a freak, Julian. You’re the original freak of nature. You’re the definition of a freak. You’re so freaky—”

  “All right, I get the picture. I don’t think you’re a freak. It’s just … unusual.”

  “That’s grown-up for freak.”

  “No.”

  “Your voice went up at the end. That means you’re lying.”

  “What are you, Homeland Security?”

  “There’s plenty in life to be worried about, but that’s not one of them.”

  “I stand corrected,” Mr. X says. “I apologize.”

  “It’s OK, I still like you.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “In fact, I like you more because you can admit that you were being stupid.”

  “Not stupid, just … considering.”

  “You mean, being judgmental.”

  “Whatever!”

  “Anyway, I wish Pookie could see her dad. Then maybe she wouldn’t obsess over him all the time.”

  “Well, if anyone can make that happen, you can.”

  “Me? I don’t think so.” I don’t know why he would think that. How could I make her dad just appear? I have no idea where he is or even what he looks like.

  Mr. X is staring through the patio doors into his living room at the picture with Mrs. X. I look at the walls of pictures he sketched, and that’s when I get a brilliant idea.

  “Hey, Mr. X, you can draw! Can you draw a picture of Pookie’s dad?”

  He shrugs. “Do you have a photo of him?”

  “No, that’s the whole point. It’s going to be an amalgamation of all the attributes I can figure out.”

  “Amalgamation, huh? He’d probably end up looking like Chex Mix. I’ve never drawn a face without even seeing what a person looks like.”

  “You can do it, Mr. X. I know you can. If she has a picture maybe she won’t obsess about finding him so much. At least she’ll have something to put inside her DAD picture frame.”

  “You really care about her, huh?”

  “Of course. She’s my sister.”

  He raises his bushy eyebrows at me. “Do you think giving her a picture of her dad will make her like you?”

  I shrug. “To be honest, I’m just trying to make life easier on everyone.” To be completely honest, which I don’t tell him, yes, I wish she’d like me again.

  “Look, I’m sorry, I can’t draw a picture of someone I don’t know. I’ve only drawn pictures of my wife and my dog. Because I knew them.”

  “What about your kids?”

  “I don’t have any kids. I don’t like kids. Julia wanted one, but I wasn’t around much with my job.”

  I can uni-sense how much Julia wanted a kid because my heart feels really heavy. “We’re not all bad.”

  He grunts. “Kids are loud and rude and demanding.”

  “I’m not.”

  “What about your sister?”

  “Well … she’s not the best example.”

  He’s kind of smirking like he’s won the argument so I decide to deflect. “Why weren’t you around a lot?”

  “I worked at sea.”

  “On those boats?” I point to the photos on his wall.

  “Ships.” He looks over at the photos, too.

  I walk over to the patio door and make myself look at all the ship pictures. Some of them have a guy who looks like Mr. X only MUCH younger. One of the pictures catches my eye. It’s a young, skinny Mr. X shaking hands with a captain, or some kind of officer with a cap and lots of stripes on his sleeve. And then I notice what’s printed below the picture. “Wait. Does that say Merchant Marines?”

  “Yeah, I did all kinds
of sea work. Merchant Marines was one of them.”

  “You were in the Merchant Marines, too! Just like Joan! That’s magic! Did you ever meet her?”

  “No, I would’ve been retired before she started! Where did she serve?”

  “On a boat, I guess.”

  “It’s a ship. And I meant—never mind. Anyway, that’s why we didn’t have kids.”

  “That’s not a very good reason.”

  When he looks away, I can feel that there’s another reason but he’s not saying it. Finally, he shrugs, still staring at her picture. “Julia wanted to adopt but I still didn’t want kids, and anyway it’s too late now.”

  “No, it’s not. You can adopt me.”

  He whips around to look at me. “You already have a family.”

  “Not a granddad.”

  He looks like he’s eaten a sour gummy without meaning to and is looking for somewhere to spit it out. “Julia was the one who wanted kids.”

  “But she’ll know you’re adopting me.”

  “I’m not adopting you, kid!”

  “Julian. We know each other too well for you to call me kid. It’s Julian. Like Julia.”

  And that’s when it hits me. “Remember when we were looking at your boat? And I said the universe was trying to tell us something? Well, now I know what it is … I’m your long-lost kid! That’s what the universe is telling us!”

  “What?”

  “Julia wants you to adopt me!”

  “I’m not adopting—”

  “OK, not real adopting but adopting like when you get a dog from the shelter. It’s more like getting a friend. Julia wants us to be friends! And we are. See? You’re even trying to teach me to swim. That’s probably what she wanted you to do. That’s what friends do. They help each other. Even if one of them doesn’t want that help. At all. It still makes us friends. Only you’re really old so you’re more like a grandfather.”

  He looks away.

  “Which makes me more of a grandson.”

  “Not really,” he says, shaking his head.

  “You didn’t listen to her before and you feel bad about it. Maybe you should listen to Julia now.”

  “Stop calling her Julia!”

  “Why? She’s my adopted grandmother.”

  “She’s not your adopted grandmother!”

  “I bet if you asked her she’d tell you she is.”

  “I can’t ask her! She’s not—”

  “Yes, she is, too, she’s always here and you can talk to her, you just choose not to.”

  “See, this is why I don’t have kids!”

  “Maybe if you had kids you’d be smarter.”

  He starts to answer but I stop him.

  “What would Jul—your wife say?”

  He looks away because he’s avoiding the question.

  “You can avoid it all you want,” I tell him, “but the universe has thrown us together on purpose and the universe, in this case, is Julia.”

  He doesn’t even yell at me for saying Julia this time. Maybe because he’s too busy pinching his nose and swallowing like he’s trying to keep the Adam’s apple from jumping out of his throat. Which I think means I have a new grandfather.

  I find Mom and ask her to get Mr. X a book on how to be a grandfather. Mom is all excited because she thinks Mr. X is having grandchildren.

  “No, he doesn’t have any kids. Pookie and I are going to be his adopted grandchildren. He just needs a little help in the grandfathering department.”

  “Oh,” she says. “Okayyy,” but her forehead is all wrinkled.

  “You have found a bookstore, haven’t you?” After doctor and major medical facility, independent bookstore is the next most important thing on Mom’s list.

  “Well, yes, The Briar Patch in Bangor, but I’m not sure when I’m going—”

  “You can call them up and order it.”

  She nods. “Of course. I can do that.”

  “Thanks, Mom!”

  After I’ve taken care of the book, I write my letter to Mr. X.

  Hi, Mr. X,

  It’s me. Julian. Your adopted grandson.*

  Please draw a picture of Pookie’s dad for her. I’ve figured out all of his attributes based on what Pookie didn’t inherit from Mom. You’re such a good artist and the picture doesn’t even have to be that good. It would still mean a lot to her.

  I know she’s what Mom calls challenging and Joan calls a pain in the butt, but that’s because she’s hurting inside. I think a picture of her dad would help. Please make it 8 x 10 so it fits in her DAD picture frame.

  Here’s what Pookie’s dad looks like:**

  His face is round.

  He has dark brown hair.

  He has a high forehead.

  He has brown eyes.

  He has thick eyebrows like yours.

  He’s thin but maybe not so much because when people get old they’re not as thin, just like you’re a LOT thinner in that Merchant Marine*** photo than you are in the one of you and my adopted grandmother.

  He has a dimple on one side (left) when he smiles which is probably not a lot, if he’s anything like Pookie, but it’s OK to make him smile for the picture.

  Also, you can make him look handsome but not famous handsome. Unless he looks like Matt Damon. That would be OK.

  Thanks!

  Your adopted grandson—just ask Julia,

  Julian

  *Mom is getting you a book on how to be a good grandfather. You’ll need it because if you’re going to have me as an adopted grandson you may as well get used to it that you have to have Pookie as an adopted granddaughter. No one’s saying it’s going to be easy.

  **If you mess up it’s OK because no one knows what he looks like anyway.

  ***Isn’t it cool how our families have connections, like you and Joan both being in the Merchant Marines? Maybe she’ll like you better if you mention that sometime.

  STELLAR ADOPTION

  Sometimes planets get flung out of their star system and are called rogue because they don’t have a star anymore. They’re not rogue on purpose. It just happens. The really cool thing is that another star will sometimes snag that rogue planet and pull it into its orbit, adopting it.

  Magic.

  It rains for days, which means no swimming lessons! It also means Mr. X isn’t out on his patio, and I miss my adopted grandfather. I hope he’s working on the drawing of Pookie’s dad for his adopted granddaughter. Or maybe he’s reading the grandfather book that came yesterday. I left it at his front door and this morning it was gone.

  I see a delivery truck come to our house, so I run over from my tree room.

  Joan is looking at the card on a big basket of chocolate that’s on the kitchen table. And swearing. A lot.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom asks, getting up from the computer with a grin. “It’s chocolate!”

  “Sweet old gentleman, huh?” Joan says with a sneer.

  “I think so,” Mom says. “He reminds me a little of my dad.”

  “He sounds nothing like your dad! You said your dad was accepting and open.”

  “It was a different time, Joan, decades ago. He’s obviously changed.”

  Joan rolls her eyes like Pookie.

  “He talks to me, doesn’t he?” Mom says. “And now he’s sending you peace offerings.”

  “It’ll take more than chocolate to buy me,” Joan snaps.

  “If he can get Julian to—” Mom stops because she sees I’m in the kitchen, but I know what she was going to say: If he can get Julian to swim …

  Joan is gripping the card on the basket and glaring at Mom. “A Merchant Marine? Why would he say I’m a Merchant Marine? Let me guess. It’s his way of—”

  “Oh, that was me!” I tell her.

  Joan glares at me now. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  “Who told you that?”

  I hear a little strangled sound from Mom, but the words are out of my mouth before I can s
top them. “Mom. She said that’s where you learned to swear.”

  Joan turns to Mom, in Merchant Marine mode. “The Merchant Marines?”

  Mom lets out a little groan. “Uh … I guess I was a little frustrated with your swearing once and I … sort of … ”

  Turns out that was just an expression. Joan wasn’t really in the Merchant Marines. Maybe if she had been she would’ve liked the lobster.

  Mom deflects Joan’s glare by saying she’s taking me to see my new pediatrician today. That’s when I learn something shocking about myself. I’d actually rather be having a swimming lesson with Mr. X. Inconceivable!

  * * *

  The new doctor looks at me and says, “I’ve never seen this before.”

  Mom is not happy.

  Neither am I.

  When it comes to health issues, Oh, I see this all the time is much more comforting than, I’ve never seen this before.

  On the drive home, Mom says she’s embarrassed that I wouldn’t even talk to the doctor. But Mom was answering all the questions, so why did I need to talk?

  Besides, that’s what happens to me in a hospital, emergency clinic, or doctor’s office. They all have those fluorescent lights that make everything look gray, even my skin, and they make a hypnotic buzz that Mom says she can’t hear but I can, and I get instantly exhausted and I go into a parallel universe until we leave, which is when my skin starts getting its color back and my body warms up and I pass into this universe again.

  Mom says I need to be more aware, but some things are too big to think about. I’m already dealing with swimming. It’s easier to ignore all the tests, especially since they don’t hurt, except drawing blood, but I’ve gotten used to that. It didn’t help that Mom was jumpy and the doctor was serious. It was not a good combination for my stomach, which wanted to throw up the entire time, and I kept telling it to stop or the tests would only go on longer and I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

  At least there’s an awesome package waiting for me at my tree. From Mr. X. The picture of Pookie’s dad!

  Pookie is walking up from the lake, so I run into the pantry, grab her DAD picture frame, and put Mr. X’s sketch inside. It looks perfect.