The Kingdom of Childhood

warm.

“There is nothing lost or wasted in this life,” she quoted in a whisper. “What is real always was and cannot be destroyed.”

He breathed a sigh against her calf and felt the warmth of his breath double back to him. Hearing the words of the Bhagavad Gita calmed him. All his life she had doled out its wisdom to her students for meditation, and word by word he had absorbed it. Now it knitted together, ever so little, the edges of the wound Fairen had opened in him.

She said, “You’ll learn, Zachary Xiang.”

14

Russ left for Iceland at the beginning of November, carrying with him the large black suitcase that had caused so much trouble not long before. Two other professors from his department went with him, and so there was no ceremonial send-off at the airport; instead, I came home from work and found his bags gone from the foyer. In the past I would have felt slighted at the lack of a proper goodbye, but now I only felt numb. Later in the week, as I tidied up from dinner and prepared to head out to the open house Dan had scheduled, Scott casually mentioned he would be spending the night at Zach’s. As soon as the words left his mouth I knew he was lying. Zach had been in my classroom only hours before. It was the sort of thing he would have mentioned.

At the open house I spotted Zach sitting on the stage with Temple, his colorful eurythmy robe still on, biding time after the evening’s performance. It amused me that his teachers had recruited him for the demonstration of the technique—the “art of expressive movement” he had been learning, like all of his classmates, since grade school. Most likely they had singled him out because he was a new student and thus an easy target for what most of his classmates would avoid at all costs. But, too, he was probably good at the dancelike movements it required. His body moved with a leonine grace, that I knew well; it was one of the most attractive qualities he possessed.

I beckoned to him from my place near the entrance, and he hopped off the stage. When he was near enough not to be overheard, I asked, “Would you like a ride home?”

“Sure.”

“Well, isn’t that a little strange,” I teased. “I was told Scott is spending the night at your house.”

His eyes darkened with confusion. “No, he isn’t.”

“I know.” The corner of my mouth twitched upward. “I assume he’ll be at Tally’s, or in a motel, or something. Who knows. He’s eighteen now, and don’t you forget it. But what he told me was that he would be at your place.”

Zach shook his head, not catching on. As if speaking to a child I enunciated, “He won’t be home.”

“What about Russ?”

“In Iceland until Tuesday. I told you that yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t.”

I tipped my head, feeling the hunger in my eyes barely contained. “You can call your folks from my place,” I whispered. “Tell them you’re spending the night at Scott’s.”

He winced. “I hate to lie to them, Judy. You know that.”

“It’s not a lie at all.”

A sigh grumbled deep in his throat. “Judy.”

“I can just take you home if you prefer. It’s entirely up to you. I only thought, it’s not every day that Scott enables this sort of thing. Usually you consider him something of a—what’s the word you use? Buzzkill?”

He managed to snicker and roll his eyes at the same time.

“I need to finish talking to these parents in the hallway,” I said. “Meet me at my car in twenty minutes and let me know the plan.”

Zach wadded his filmy eurythmy robe into a ball and leaned over to grab the slippers he’d stashed away at the edge of the stage curtain. Temple had wandered off to speak with a teacher, leaving Zach alone on the stage. He felt deeply irritated at Scott using him, of all people, as a cover story. Without Zach’s knowledge or consent Scott had involved him in a lie. It was especially galling in light of the way Scott constantly razzed him in public about his supposedly pathetic sex life, then depended on Zach to facilitate his own. He had half a mind to take Judy up on her offer just for spite. Not that Judy would care what his reason was, so long as he was in her bed.

He watched the few remaining little kids play with the picturesque toys the teachers had set out—a basket of knitted dolls, a set of nesting arches in rainbow colors, wooden figurines in the shape of characters from nursery rhymes. Dr. Beckett’s kid lay on his stomach stacking the animals from “The Musicians of Bremen,” seemingly oblivious to the wilder boys around him. Atop his corduroys and simple red T-shirt he wore a golden Michaelmas cape. The sight of it tugged at Zach a little bit, evoking a memory of being six and happy, standing before his teacher in a cape just like that one as his teacher presented him with his rough-cut Michaelmas sword. Zachary, you have polished your sword so strong, so bright. Use it only for the right. The Waldorf rhymes came back to him easily, carrying all his childhood memories on their words. Enjoy it while it lasts, kid, he thought to himself. Not very long ago that had been him, stretched out on the floor with a fistful of animals, and the land of make-believe was the only place he needed for a boost of courage, strength and might.

He caved at the last minute, jogging across the parking lot to catch up with Judy just as she climbed into her Volvo. She reached across to pop open the passenger door and started the car. He glanced at the gas gauge and noticed it was nearly at the empty mark. Briefly he considered pointing this out to her, then thought better of it.

“So where are we going?” she asked, and didn’t seem surprised by his answer.

Without Scott present at the house, Zach decided to be nosy. He had always enjoyed exploring other people’s houses, sometimes overstepping the bounds of good guest behavior. Judy, somewhat to his surprise, did not jump on him as soon as they walked in the door, and as she cleaned up the kitchen he felt free to roam. He had been in her bedroom several times before but always under the gun for time, in an elevated state of arousal before he even arrived, in a rush to leave as soon as they were finished. But tonight there would be no such restrictions, and the long stretch of time felt luxurious.