television set for a while to watch Scooby-Doo –which he despised but never had the heart to say so–while she rustled up some hot chocolate.
Hot chocolate at the end of a scorching summer’s day? Well, that was Mom for you. All the best intentions in the world, but clueless about carrying them out. Like her cooking. Most nights she produced sandwiches for dinner, or they went and got pizza or Chinese takeout, and it was a blessed relief that this was so. Some nights when he couldn’t sleep, Sagandran thought he could still taste the sardine soufflé she’d once made.
Later, after a plateful of peanut butter sandwiches, he sat in a hot bath watching his toes bob like two rows of little pink ducks – two mommy ducks each leading four progressively smaller ducklings. His thoughts turned to Grandpa Melwin.
In a way, Webster’s taunt was right. Grandpa Melwin was a crazy man, if by “crazy” you meant he wasn’t boring, like most people. He was different, that was for sure. He was the best friend Sagandran had ever had. Although he had been retired a long time now, in the old days he had worked for nearly forty years as a ranger in the Eagle Lake Forest. Now he devoted his time to his inventions, which were numerous and varied. Despite what Webster had said, only a very few of them actually blew up, and even then, it was probably because Grandpa had intended them to do just that. Sagandran knew some of the townsfolk thought Grandpa Melwin was a senile old crank, and possibly a dangerous one. Some of them went further than this and said that he was probably involved in something mysterious – probably illegal – and that they wouldn’t be surprised if they opened up their newspapers over breakfast one day and discovered that he’d been arrested for treason, murder or worse. Sagandran regarded this gossip as a positive recommendation; Grandpa Melwin was interesting.
Eventually, Mom started banging on the bathroom door. “Hurry up in there. You’ll get as wrinkled as a prune.”
“ Coming ,” he said, and started getting busy with the soap. His hands and legs didn’t hurt nearly so much after a long soak.
By the time he got to his bedroom, the big blue towel wrapped around him, Mom had finished packing his bags. He looked at the two of them, both probably filled with stuff he didn’t want, in the way of moms everywhere. He had to be up early tomorrow to catch his bus, which left at seven, so she’d decreed he should be in bed in good time tonight. Sagandran hoped he’d be able to sleep.
Before he climbed into bed, he carefully took off the chain he always wore around his neck and put it on the bedside table. The chain had come from the store, but the stone on it was something special: a big rainbow-colored crystal Grandpa Melwin had given him for his last birthday. Grandpa said he had found it in the forest somewhere, but didn’t know anything more about it than that. For all Grandpa knew, it could have been left there by the fairies, though on the whole he thought it had more likely come from a volcano that had been active millions of years ago. Either idea was pretty exciting, Sagandran thought, and the stone had become his favorite treasure.
Mom tucked him in carefully, as if he were still about three years old, not fourteen, so he knew she was going to miss him while he was away. Although he mildly resented her fussing over him, it also had a soothing effect – or maybe it was the long bath that had done that. Either way, he felt waves of sleep beginning to steal upon him. Even so, he reached up a hand to stop her just as she was turning away toward the door.
“Uh, Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Is it true Dad’s met up with another woman?”
She stared at him as if he’d punched her.
“What on earth makes you say that, Sagandran?”
“I was just wondering, is all.”
The pillow against his cheek was soft and cool and comfortable. The gentle haze was closing in, but he was still awake
Hot chocolate at the end of a scorching summer’s day? Well, that was Mom for you. All the best intentions in the world, but clueless about carrying them out. Like her cooking. Most nights she produced sandwiches for dinner, or they went and got pizza or Chinese takeout, and it was a blessed relief that this was so. Some nights when he couldn’t sleep, Sagandran thought he could still taste the sardine soufflé she’d once made.
Later, after a plateful of peanut butter sandwiches, he sat in a hot bath watching his toes bob like two rows of little pink ducks – two mommy ducks each leading four progressively smaller ducklings. His thoughts turned to Grandpa Melwin.
In a way, Webster’s taunt was right. Grandpa Melwin was a crazy man, if by “crazy” you meant he wasn’t boring, like most people. He was different, that was for sure. He was the best friend Sagandran had ever had. Although he had been retired a long time now, in the old days he had worked for nearly forty years as a ranger in the Eagle Lake Forest. Now he devoted his time to his inventions, which were numerous and varied. Despite what Webster had said, only a very few of them actually blew up, and even then, it was probably because Grandpa had intended them to do just that. Sagandran knew some of the townsfolk thought Grandpa Melwin was a senile old crank, and possibly a dangerous one. Some of them went further than this and said that he was probably involved in something mysterious – probably illegal – and that they wouldn’t be surprised if they opened up their newspapers over breakfast one day and discovered that he’d been arrested for treason, murder or worse. Sagandran regarded this gossip as a positive recommendation; Grandpa Melwin was interesting.
Eventually, Mom started banging on the bathroom door. “Hurry up in there. You’ll get as wrinkled as a prune.”
“ Coming ,” he said, and started getting busy with the soap. His hands and legs didn’t hurt nearly so much after a long soak.
By the time he got to his bedroom, the big blue towel wrapped around him, Mom had finished packing his bags. He looked at the two of them, both probably filled with stuff he didn’t want, in the way of moms everywhere. He had to be up early tomorrow to catch his bus, which left at seven, so she’d decreed he should be in bed in good time tonight. Sagandran hoped he’d be able to sleep.
Before he climbed into bed, he carefully took off the chain he always wore around his neck and put it on the bedside table. The chain had come from the store, but the stone on it was something special: a big rainbow-colored crystal Grandpa Melwin had given him for his last birthday. Grandpa said he had found it in the forest somewhere, but didn’t know anything more about it than that. For all Grandpa knew, it could have been left there by the fairies, though on the whole he thought it had more likely come from a volcano that had been active millions of years ago. Either idea was pretty exciting, Sagandran thought, and the stone had become his favorite treasure.
Mom tucked him in carefully, as if he were still about three years old, not fourteen, so he knew she was going to miss him while he was away. Although he mildly resented her fussing over him, it also had a soothing effect – or maybe it was the long bath that had done that. Either way, he felt waves of sleep beginning to steal upon him. Even so, he reached up a hand to stop her just as she was turning away toward the door.
“Uh, Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Is it true Dad’s met up with another woman?”
She stared at him as if he’d punched her.
“What on earth makes you say that, Sagandran?”
“I was just wondering, is all.”
The pillow against his cheek was soft and cool and comfortable. The gentle haze was closing in, but he was still awake
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