Dream Within a Dream Page 3

  “He’s my sea dog,” repeats Eliasi. “I call him Rafiki.”

  “What does ‘Rafiki’ mean?” I ask.

  George holds up his hand. “ ‘Friend,’ ” he says.

  Theo comes out of the house with Boots and Jake. Rafiki runs to them.

  New friends!

  “Come for dinner tonight,” Eliasi calls to us all. “It’s dance night!”

  “I don’t dance,” I say.

  “I don’t dance either,” says George. “My parents dance all the time. Even when there’s no music.”

  “Dancing is easy,” says Theo. “I’ve watched. I’ll show you later. I have art class this afternoon at the school.”

  “Micha?” asks George. “You’ll like her. She teaches art during the school year. She tried to help me paint a tree.”

  “How did it go?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “My tree never looked alive,” he says.

  “That’s fine if the tree is lying dead on the ground,” says Theo, trying to be kind.

  Boots and Jake laugh.

  “I’ll try to remember that I am good at painting dead trees,” says George.

  “And don’t worry about dancing,” adds Theo. “Dancing is just two people, looking bored, hanging on to each other and moving around.”

  “Boots and I dance,” says Jake. “And we’re never bored.”

  “Never,” says Boots.

  Then Rafiki and Tess run off to the sheep field, sending the sheep running.

  Jake and Boots get up in the truck.

  And they are gone. Driving down the road to ride the ferry to Jake’s eye appointment.

  I watch.

  “Let’s walk with the dogs,” says George to me. “It’ll take your mind off of Jake’s eyes.”

  “You’re getting more like Jake every day. Knowing what I’m thinking,” I say.

  “Maybe,” says George. “Or maybe it’s easy to see what you’re thinking. Your face tells me.”

  We are quiet, ducking between the rails of the fence and walking through the field.

  The sheep look up, then away again.

  The morning is cool, the sun not yet summer hot.

  We can see Tess and Rafiki down the sandy beach, noses to the sand, smelling scents the seals have left behind.

  “What would you do if you were losing your eyesight?” I ask George.

  He thinks for a moment. “I’d memorize the world,” he says. “Remember it.”

  I stop walking. “That’s what Jake said this morning,” I say.

  George nods. “I’m turning into Jake,” he says. “You said so.”

  “George!” A small boy waves from down the beach. He begins running.

  “Marco!” shouts George. “Marco goes to school with me.”

  Tess and Rafiki run with Marco. They reach us in a heap of dogs and boy.

  “This is my friend, Louisiana,” says George. “This is Marco.”

  “Louisiana is a state in the South,” says Marco.

  “It is,” I say. “I was named after it.”

  “I read about it,” says Marco. “George taught me how to read! I read every night. I think about you every night,” he says to George.

  “I think about you every night too,” says George.

  “I’ll think about you thinking about me,” says Marco.

  “And I’ll think about you thinking about me,” says George.

  We all laugh and walk together. Suddenly Marco runs ahead and picks something up from what a sea wave left.

  He hands me a small moon snail shell, rounded and perfect and wet from the water.

  “For you, Louisiana,” says Marco.

  “Thank you, Marco,” I say. “I’ll put it next to my bed. And now I will think about you every night too.”

  Marco smiles at me.

  “Marco!”

  Marco turns.

  “My father and I are spending the day together,” he says, beginning to run down the beach. “We’re going to the library!”

  Marco runs to his father. He turns to wave at us once.

  George stands very still and watches Marco.

  “You taught him to read?” I say.

  George nods. “My teacher Maggie asked me to help him one day. ‘Marco likes you,’ she said. ‘You can help him.’ ”

  A wave comes in.

  “And now Marco is teaching his father, Angelo, to read English,” he says so softly I hardly hear him. “They’re going to the library.”

  “And you did that,” I say.

  “I began it,” George says.

  I hold up my hand. “Rafiki,” I say. The moon snail shell is under my thumb.

  George takes my hand and holds it, the shell between our hands. “Rafiki,” he says.

  And he walks up through the meadow and home.

  8

  Eyes

  It is dance night at George’s house. Eliasi has strung tiny white lights along the porch roof and railings and into the house, even though it isn’t yet dark.

  George and I walk up the porch steps, Theo catching up with us.

  “How was the art class?” asks George. “Did you like Micha?”

  “I did,” says Theo. “She said I am a ‘thoughtful’ painter.”

  “Really? What did you paint?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” says Theo. “But it was thoughtful.”

  George laughs.

  “My friend Dahlia painted big bright things. Dahlia is a kind of wild girl,” Theo says.

  George nods. “I know Dahlia.”

  “Marco is very precise,” says Theo. “He did many lines that ended up as a face! We’re going to begin a project together.”

  A project. That word I remember hearing from Jake.

  “Don’t ask me about the project,” warns Theo, holding up his hands as a shield. “It is presently a secret.”

  I am fairly sure the word “presently” is Micha’s word.

  “I have hamburgers and salads, cheeses, pickles, and chips,” says Eliasi, coming out on the porch.

  “Could I eat later?” asks Theo. “I want to see George’s library.”

  George points to the stairs just inside the door.

  “What about samaki?” I ask Eliasi slyly.

  George had told me the Swahili word for “fish.”

  “And burned samaki for Louisiana!” says Eliasi, looking impressed. “Come in, come in, and then after dinner we’ll dance.”

  “Not me,” I say softly.

  “Not me,” whispers George.

  Inside Willa is wearing a long black dress. She has sparkling stars clipped in her curly hair. They catch the light as she moves.

  “Louisa! I have something for you, for later. Do you have a pocket?” asks Willa.

  “Yes. What is it?”

  “I’ll show you when we dance,” says Willa.

  Willa hands me a small cloth bag. I put it in my pocket. And then I see the huge caprese salad on the table.

  I grin.

  George laughs. “Even I am beginning to like it.”

  “You go ahead and eat,” says Willa. “Eliasi and I will wait for Boots and Jake. It won’t be long.”

  Willa goes to the kitchen, and we see Eliasi suddenly take her in his arms, the two of them dancing slowly across the room.

  “See?” says George. “No music.”

  I nod. “I saw Boots and Jake dance without music.”

  George and I eat. George even eats burned samaki.

  I can’t stop watching Willa and Eliasi, dancing and turning around the kitchen together.

  “It isn’t about the music, is it?” I say.

  “No,” says George.

  “And it isn’t really about the dancing, either.”

  I stop eating and put down my fork. I fold my hands under my chin and lean on the table, looking at George.

  He puts down his fork, folding his hands under his chin, leaning on the table, imitating me.

  “What are you two doing?” asks Theo
, sitting down in front of the large hamburger Eliasi has left on his plate.

  “We are speaking to each other wordlessly,” says George.

  “Oh,” says Theo. “Is it working?”

  “Yes,” says George.

  “Yes,” I say.

  No one speaks for a moment.

  “I want a library,” says Theo finally, almost mournfully.

  “I’ll help you,” says George.

  “You will?”

  “I will,” says George, nodding. “We have extra bookshelves in the cellar.”

  Theo sits back and stares at George for such a long time I think Theo might be about to cry. Sometimes Theo does that, cries after thinking for a long time about something sad or something for which he is grateful or excited. But instead, Theo looks at the kitchen as Eliasi swings Willa out and then back in his arms.

  “They don’t have music,” he says, making George smile at me.

  “And they’re kissing now,” Theo adds.

  And they are.

  George shakes his head.

  “It’s not about the dance,” he says again.

  I can’t think of anything to say.

  And then the loud ferry horn sounds. The ferry is coming into the small harbor.

  Rafiki and Tess come out from under the table, Rafiki’s ears up, listening.

  The horn sounds again.

  We all walk out to the porch, Rafiki running down the steps.

  “Rafiki!” I call.

  “Let him go,” says Eliasi. “Maybe he’ll get on the ferry. Maybe he’ll stay. He has his own life. But he’ll come back when he wants, I know.”

  “Like my parents,” I say.

  I could be having an exotic life somewhere with them.

  Eliasi puts his arm around me. “Like your parents,” he repeats.

  I look up at Eliasi. “How do you know Rafiki will come back?”

  “He likes my burned samaki,” says Eliasi.

  “And he loves my father,” says George.

  “Like your parents,” says Eliasi.

  The sun is setting. Dusk will come soon.

  “I hope Jake is all right,” I say.

  “You can worry about Jake’s eyes,” says Eliasi very softly. “But you never have to worry about Jake.”

  I can feel tears in the corners of my eyes. I brush them away.

  “Louisiana?” says Eliasi.

  “What?”

  “Look,” says George.

  I look down the hill. And there are Boots and Jake walking up, Rafiki running ahead of them, leading the way.

  “We’re back! I got a shot in the eye!” calls Jake. “Let’s dance!”

  It is nearly dark and the tiny white lights seem brighter now. Boots and Jake sit at the table to eat before they dance.

  Jake sees me watching him. He holds out his hand and pulls me closer.

  “I had a little ‘leakage’ in my eye, Louisa. The doctor gave me a shot to clear it up. My eye will see better after a while.”

  And then the music comes on, slow and sweet. Theo comes downstairs from the library.

  Willa pulls me to the mirror. She takes the little bag out of my pocket. It is filled with star clips. She clips them all around my terrible hair, so that soon, in front of my eyes, I look enchanted.

  I say that to Willa.

  “We’re all a little enchanted,” she says.

  “Come out to the porch where no one will watch you,” calls Theo. “You have to be a beginner before you can dance like Willa and Eliasi. Just remember to look bored.”

  “I’m not sure about this,” calls George from the kitchen.

  “Me neither,” I call to him.

  George comes out of the kitchen and stops when he sees me. “What have you done?”

  “Willa did it.”

  George keeps staring at me. “You sparkle,” he says finally.

  I shrug. “It’s dance night,” I say.

  Rafiki comes out from under the table with a dill pickle hanging out of his mouth, while Tess sleeps.

  George and I laugh.

  Dance night.

  So here is my startling story about dance night.

  It is dark on the porch, but the music and white lights make it pleasant and that word “enchanted.”

  “Bored, remember,” says Theo.

  But as it turns out it is Theo who is bored in the end. He watches as George puts his hand on my waist and takes my hand. And somehow we know how to dance, as if we had been taught long ago in another life but had forgotten until now.

  We have never been this close to each other before. Even our eyes are close. I see Theo leave the porch and go up the stairs to George’s library.

  I think about eyes—Jake’s eyes, better for a while. George turns us around and we move closer.

  “Are you bored?” asks George, his mouth close to my ear.

  “I don’t feel bored,” I say.

  I can feel George sigh against me.

  “I’m not bored at all,” he says.

  And then I look into George’s eyes. I can see the reflection of the stars in my hair there.

  Eyes.

  I can see George—

  And I can see me.

  Eyes.

  9

  The Library

  George and Eliasi come the next morning, with two large bookcases in the back of the truck and Rafiki in the front. They carry the bookcases to the large upstairs hallway outside Theo’s room.

  Theo has that old look like he might cry. Surprisingly, George leans over and hugs him.

  “I’ll help you carry your books out,” says George.

  George and I look at each other shyly, remembering our dancing closely the night before.

  Eliasi notices. “You two did very well dancing. The emphasis is on the word ‘very.’ ”

  Jake, bringing out a lamp to put by the bookcases, smiles.

  “Very,” Jake repeats.

  George looks at me. I duck my head and don’t look at him.

  “I found a chair we’re not using,” says Boots, pushing an easy chair out of her bedroom and down the hallway. I help her carry it over by the bookcases and lamp.

  “That’s your favorite lamp,” says Boots to Jake.

  “I don’t use that lamp anymore,” says Jake. “I’m passing in on to Theo.”

  There is a sudden silence.

  “I don’t,” says Jake. “Get to work.”

  And we do. And soon the books are on the shelves.

  “Oh, I forgot,” says Jake suddenly. He disappears into his room and comes out with a picture.

  He has a hammer and a nail. He pounds in the nail and hangs a picture. It is a picture of Jake, sitting and reading, his favorite lamp behind him.

  “I took that picture,” says Boots. “Remember?”

  “No,” says Jake. “I don’t remember. I was reading!”

  Boots laughs.

  Suddenly Rafiki bounds up the stairs, happy to discover all of us. He jumps into the chair and watches us.

  Theo stands very still and looks at the bookshelves, filled with his books, the lamp, and the chair for a moment. Then Theo moves Rafiki over a bit and sits on his chair. He strokes Rafiki’s head.

  “My library,” he says. Then softer, “My library.”

  He doesn’t cry.

  “That was a good thing you did for Theo,” I say in the kitchen.

  “I understand him. I like Theo,” says George.

  “I like him too.”

  “I know,” says George.

  I am about to make an intelligent remark about all the things George appears to know when he surprises me.

  “Do you know that Theo wants to live here on the island instead of going home?” he asks softly.

  “I know, but he can’t, just like I can’t go traveling with my parents.”

  All of a sudden the house is filled with people. Marco and Dahlia come into the kitchen. Jake, Boots, and Eliasi come downstairs.

  “A party,” s
ays Jake.

  “Hi, Jake. Where’s Theo?” asks Dahlia.

  Marco and Dahlia are carrying large rolled-up canvases.

  “Upstairs in his library,” I tell her.

  “He has a library?!” says Dahlia.

  Marco and Dahlia drop the rolled-up canvases on the kitchen table. They run upstairs.

  “No party,” says Jake, making us laugh.

  Eliasi picks up Dahlia’s canvas. Very carefully he unrolls it.

  “Dahlia did this. It’s me,” he adds, though we all know it.

  I catch my breath. It is a bold Dahlia-like painting of Eliasi. He is looking straight at us with a serious, thoughtful look.

  “That’s beautiful,” I say. “I guess that means you are beautiful too,” I add.

  Eliasi puts his arm around me.

  “Nakupenda,” says Eliasi to me.

  George grins. “It means ‘I love you.’ Or ‘I like you,’ either way.”

  “No, actually, you can say I ‘like’ a tablecloth. But when you say it to a person, it is love,” says Eliasi.

  Marco, Dahlia, and Theo come downstairs. Rafiki is behind them, trying to be first.

  Tess barks at the screen door and comes in. She and Rafiki drink water noisily.

  “Your painting of Eliasi is so good,” I say to Dahlia.

  “Thank you. Oh, I forgot to tell you that Micha is bringing Georgia by to ask you a question.”

  Marco unrolls his painting and holds it up.

  Angelo’s smile is the same as Marco’s. His strong hands are on a fishing net that surrounds him like an ocean. He’s not smiling at the painter. He is smiling at his work.

  “Angelo,” says Boots.

  There is a knock at the door. Micha comes in with another woman.

  “Is this a party?” Micha asks.

  “I hope so,” says Jake.

  “This is my English teacher,” says George. “This is Theo and Louisiana. Louisiana, meet Georgia.”

  Everyone laughs, even me.

  “I think that is the first time I’ve ever laughed about my name,” I say.

  “Born in Louisiana?” asks Georgia.

  “I was. And you?”

  “What do you think?!” says Georgia.

  We laugh again.

  “I’m going to paint,” says Theo.

  “Could I paint?” asks Jake.