The Gray House

Elk was staring out the window. He looked worn out. His face was lined heavily, especially around the mouth. For the first time ever, Grasshopper wondered how old Elk was. He thought that Elk was probably much older than Grasshopper’s mom. And that the gray hairs on his head outnumbered the not-gray ones. And that his face looked even older when he was upset. Grasshopper had never thought about these things before.

“I talked to the department head. Wolf will be discharged soon. They’re not keeping him here for their own amusement, you know. You should be old enough to understand this.”

“I do understand,” Grasshopper said. “So can I see him?”

Elk gave him a strange look.

“You can,” he said. “On one condition.”

Grasshopper squeaked excitedly, but Elk raised his hand.

“Wait. I said on one condition. You’ll be transferred to his room, and you’ll stay together until you’re both discharged, but only if you can make him do everything the doctors say. No running, no pillow fights, no games except those they allow. Are you up to it?”

Grasshopper frowned.

“Maybe,” he said evasively.

“Forget it, then. Not good enough.”

Grasshopper thought about this. Would he be able to make Wolf do something Wolf didn’t want to do? Or not do something? It was hard to imagine. Wolf didn’t listen to anybody, so why would he want to listen to Grasshopper? But then, he’d cried that night, cried because he wanted more than anything to get out of there. He just didn’t believe he could anymore.

“I agree,” Grasshopper said and shifted under the covers. “But you have to give me your word, Elk. Swear that they’re going to let him out.”

“I swear,” Elk said.

“Let’s go, then!” Grasshopper sprang up and started jumping excitedly on the bed. “Quick, before he dies there all alone!”

“Wait,” Elk said and grabbed Grasshopper’s ankle. Grasshopper crashed back down on the pillow. “We’ll have to wait for the doctor and the nurse.”

“Listen, Elk, are they ever going to discharge Death? And Ginger, she’s this girl here, is she long for this world? What about this senior, White, did you know him?”

Grasshopper was getting a sizable escort. Doctor Jan was carrying his things, the nurse had the linens, and Elk took the books. The doctor and Elk talked on the way, but Nurse Agatha was keeping silent, and her pursed lips were informing Grasshopper that she no longer expected much of him, wherever he might be transferred. Grasshopper was trying to slow himself down.

“Well, then,” the doctor said as he stopped and bent down. He was tall, taller even than Elk. “Changed your mind yet?”

Grasshopper shook his head.

“All right.”

The bars on the windows were the first thing he noticed. They were white, and they protruded into the room, checkered boxes encasing the windows that blocked the view. Multicolored Winnie-the-Poohs and Mickeys frolicked on the walls. Wolf was lying on the floor, facing the wall, his pajamas pulled around his head. He did not turn around when he heard the door or their voices, and Grasshopper didn’t want to call to him. The nurse made the bed, shaking her head and muttering under her breath. Doctor and Elk went to the window. Grasshopper’s stuff went on the nightstand, his books on the floor. The nurse busied herself with the bed for far longer than necessary. Wolf hadn’t stirred. Doctor Jan and Elk were talking in whispers about something unrelated.

On his way out, Jan pulled Grasshopper’s ear affectionately and said, “Courage.”

It was as if they were leaving him alone in a cage with a real wolf.

Finally they all left. The lock clicked shut and all was silent.

Grasshopper looked at Wolf. He felt uneasy.

I don’t know him. I really don’t know him at all. He may well not be glad to see me. Maybe I should have stayed in my own room and gone with Ginger to visit Death every night.

He looked at the jumping Mickeys again. Some morbid joker had provided them with sharp fangs.

Grasshopper sat down next to Wolf and said softly, “Hey. Hey, vampire . . .”

SPHINX

VISITING THE SEPULCHER

I am looking into the eyes of my own reflection. Intently, without blinking, until my eyes start tearing up. Sometimes I am able to achieve the sense of complete detachment, sometimes not. It’s either a decent way of calming your nerves or a waste of time, depending on your inner state when approaching the mirror and the lessons you carry away from it.