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when he was born？”
He shook his head。
“Well； then …”
He leaned forward even farther and whispered； “You did。”
“I did？”
He nodded。 “Twice。”
“But …”
“The doctor who delivered you was on the ball； plus apparently there was some slack in the
cord； so he was able to loop it off as you came out。
……… Page 42………
You didn't hang yourself ing into the world； but it could very easily have gone the other
way。”
If I'd been told years or even weeks ago that I'd e down the chute noosed and ready to
hang； I'd have made some kind of joke about it； or
more likely I'd have said； Yeah； that's nice； now can you spare me the discussion？
But after everything that had happened； I was really freaking out； and I couldn't escape the
questions tidal…waving my brain。 Where would I be if
things had been different？ What would they have done with me？ From the way my dad was
talking； he wouldn't have had much use for me； that's for
sure。 He'd have stuck me in a nuthouse somewhere； any where； and forgotten about me。 But
then I thought； No！ I'm his kid。 He wouldn't do that …
would he？
I looked around at everything we had — the big house； the white carpet； the antiques and
artwork and stuff that was everywhere。 Would they have
given up all the stuff to make my life more pleasant？
I doubted it； and man； I doubted it big…time。 I'd have been an embarrassment。 Something to
try to forget about。 How things looked had always
been a biggie to my parents。 Especially to my dad。
Very quietly my granddad said； “You can't dwell on what might have been； Bryce。” Then； like
he could read my mind； he added； “And it's not fair to
condemn him for something he hasn't done。”
I nodded and tried to get a grip； but I wasn't doing a very good job of it。 Then he said； “By the
way； I appreciated your ment before。”
“What？” I asked； but my throat was feeling all pinched and swollen。
“About your grandmother。 How did you know that？”
I shook my head and said； “Juli told me。”
“Oh？ You spoke with her； then？”
“Yeah。 Actually； I apologized to her。”
“Well…！”
“And I was feeling a lot better about everything； but now … God； I feel like such a jerk again。”
“Don't。 You apologized； and that's what matters。” He stood up and said； “Say； I'm in the
mood for a walk。 Want to join me？”
Go for a walk？ What I wanted to do was go to my room； lock the door； and be left alone。
“I find it really helps to clear the mind；” he said； and that's when I realized that this wasn't just
a walk — this was an invitation to do something
together。
I stood up and said； “Yeah。 Let's get out of here。”
For a guy who'd only basically ever said Pass the salt to me； my granddad turned out to be a
real talker。 We walked our neighborhood and the
next neighborhood and the next neighborhood； and not only did I find out that my granddad
knows a lot of stuff； I found out that the guy is funny。 In a
subtle kind of dry way。 It's the stuff he says； plus the way he says it。 It's really； I don't know；
cool。
As we were winding back into our own territory； we passed by the house that's going up
where the sycamore tree used to be。 My granddad
stopped； looked up into the night； and said； “It must've been a spectacular view。”
I looked up； too； and noticed for the first time that night that you could see the stars。 “Did you
ever see her up there？” I asked him。
“Your mother pointed her out to me one time as we drove by。 It scared me to see her up so
high； but after I read the article I understood why she
did it。” He shook his head。 “The tree's gone； but she's still got the spark it gave her。 Know
what I mean？”
Luckily I didn't have to answer。 He just grinned and said； “Some of us get dipped in flat； some
in satin； some in gloss…。” He turned to me。 “But
……… Page 43………
every once in a while you find someone who's iridescent； and when you do； nothing will ever
pare。”
As we walked up to our front porch； my grandfather put his arm around my shoulder and said；
“It was nice walking with you； Bryce。 I enjoyed
myself very much。”
“Me too；” I told him； and we went inside。
Right away we knew we'd stepped into a war zone。 And even though no one was yelling or
crying； from the look on my parents' faces I could tell
there'd been a major meltdown while my granddad and I were out。
Granddad whispered to me； “I've got another fence to mend； I'm afraid；” and headed into the
dining room to talk to my parents。
I wanted nothing to do with that vibe。 I went straight to my room； closed the door； and flopped
through the darkness onto my bed。
I lay there awhile and let the dinner disaster play through my mind。 And when I'd totally
burned a fuse thinking about it； I sat up and looked out the
window。 There was a light on somewhere inside the Bakers' house and the streetlights were
glowing； but the night still seemed really dense。 Like it
was darker than usual and； I don't know； heavy。
I leaned closer to the window and looked up into the sky； but I couldn't see the stars anymore。
I wondered if Juli had ever been in the sycamore at
night。 Among the stars。
I shook my head。 Flat； glossy； iridescent。 What was up with that？ Juli Baker had always
seemed just plain dusty to me。
I snapped on my desk lamp and dug the newspaper with the article about Juli out of the
drawer where I'd tossed it。
Just like I thought — they made it sound like Juli was trying to save Mount Rushmore or
something。 They called her a “strong voice in an urban
wilderness” and “a radiant beacon； shedding light on the need to curtail continued
overdevelopment of our once quaint and tranquil munity。”
Spare me。 I mean； what's wrong with letting a guy cut down a tree on his own property so he
can build a house？ His lot； his tree； his decision。
End of story。 The piece in the paper