Before the Ever After(7)

Go back to the mountain,

turn the world around.

Me and Ollie laughed

the first time we sang it because the chorus teacher said Ollie, you have such a beautiful alto voice!

and it’s kinda weird

when teachers compliment you

with words like beautiful. So Ollie started singing in a high-pitched super-alto that made everyone laugh.

Except the teacher. She had to stop the class to tell us why

the song was important blah, blah, blah.

But now the song is in my head and I’m remembering how nice it sounded when the

sopranos came in over the tenors and the basses and the beautiful altos picked it all up.

I am singing when Mom tiptoes down the stairs, tells me to stop singing so loud.

Your dad has a migraine, she says.

Another headache? I ask.

Mom nods. Takes the eleventh cookie out of my hand, says Save room for dinner.

But I’m not hungry anymore. I’m scared.

My daddy was a mountain, a football star, 223 pounds of tight end.

My daddy was the world.

I want to go back to the mountain and turn the world around.





Repetition


Even in songs, the lines keep repeating and it’s okay. The chorus comes back around like it’s making sure you understand how important it is to the song’s story.

So how come when my dad repeats himself it’s such a big deal? How come people have to look at him all weird? How come my mom has to say to him

Zachariah, you okay? You want to lie down awhile?

How come he has to look so confused and mad about it?

And yell I’m not crazy!?

How come it feels so scary?

How come it feels so scary?





Tests


The sun is bright on the morning my mom tells me she’s taking Daddy to the doctor for some tests.

It’s a Tuesday and I’m putting my lunch together peanut butter and banana sandwich, apple, fruit snacks, cookies.

My mom takes the cookies out, says After school.

When she turns her back,

I put them in my bag again.

What kind of tests?

For the headaches. She looks out the kitchen window.

And the memory stuff.

Guess they want to rule out dementia. I don’t know.

There’s a cardinal at the bird feeder, then a sparrow comes and a yellow warbler.

When I was a little kid, I used to say What’s that and What’s that and What’s that and my dad would tell me the names of the birds.

When I asked him if they would survive the winter, he’d always say

Of course they will. Mother Nature’s got their backs.

Now I want to ask again, say What’s that only not about birds this time.

What I really want to ask is Are the doctors gonna make him better?

and hear my mother say

Of course, ZJ. Mother Nature’s got his back.





The Trees


Maple’s what we call the oak tree in front of the house.

It was Dad who decided to call an oak tree Maple.

There’s another one—a birch he named Sweet Pine.

And out past the garage is a crab apple tree.

He wanted to call it Peaches but I said Nah, Daddy.

Let’s just call that one Crabby.

And in winter, when Crabby’s branches are getting beat down by a cold wind,

I wonder if she’s upset no one

covered her up with a tree blanket.

It was me who decided Crabby and Maple and Sweet Pine were girls.

I don’t know why.

Maybe because of that book we used to read you, my daddy said.

The one about the tree that keeps giving up everything she has.

But I shook my head. I’d never want a tree to do that.

I’d never ask that of anything. Or anybody.

Daddy has to stop playing football until the doctors know what’s going on with his head.

Some days he seems just like that tree.

Like he’s not his whole self anymore. Like one by one somebody or something

took his branches.





Daydreams


In class, from somewhere far away I hear

someone calling my name.

I mean, I only sort of hear it because I’m not really there.

Outside the classroom window, the sky goes on and on and on, and

I’m wondering what happens beyond it.

Is that heaven up there?

And all the people

who left us, are they really walking around and looking down? And if they are— what do they see?

What do they know about stuff?

Last night I found my mom outside standing on the deck, looking up at the sky.

Are you counting stars? I asked.

No, she said. I’m looking for God.

If anyone has any answers, I guess God would.

ZJ, can you hear me?!

I jump in my seat, look toward the front of the room, where my teacher is staring at me.

Welcome back from the World of Daydreams, she says.

So glad to have you with us.

Says Those fractions up on the board aren’t going anywhere—they’re just waiting for you to divide them.





Middle of the Night


Down the hall I can hear my daddy moaning, saying My head. My head, Lisa. It hurts so bad. Hurts so bad.