was waiting for her. “Hi, honey. Look at this. Actually crossing paths with you. I could get used to it.”
“Mom, sit down. I’ve got something to tell you,” I replied.
“Don’t you have school?”
“I do. But this is important,” I said.
“Can I get my shower first, at least?” Mom asked.
“Good idea,” I said. “In fact, great idea.”
“Uh-oh,” she said. “If you think a shower is going to help that much, I’d better hear this now.”
“Good thinking,” I said.
Mom put her chin in her hand and listened to me, leaning on our broken table, while I told her the whole story, includ.ing hanging out with Bobby and Drew, and Edmund barfing on our lawn. Even in scrubs, after sixteen hours of work, my fifty-year-old mother was beautiful. Her long straight nose and her big gray eyes comforted me in a way nothing else could have. And I knew I was wrong; Mom did believe me. I could tell it from her face.
When I was done, she studied me long and hard. “You know, I saw a UFO once,” she said.
“You never told me that.”
“It was funny,” Mom said. “I was driving to L.A. on Highway 60, and the guy I was with said, ‘Look isn’t that a UFO?’ and there, hanging over the freeway, was this beau.tiful thing. It had a shiny coppery bottom and a silver dome that seemed to be shining emerald light through a row of windows. I looked for wings, but there weren’t any, or ro.tors like a helicopter’s. But there weren’t any of those, either. Then we drove right under it, and I stuck my head out the side window and looked back and it was gone.”
“Wow,” I said. “You had a close encounter. You could have seen aliens.”
“The point is, Miranda, I saw a UFO once and I still don’t believe in them.” Mom shook her head. “I mean, I know I had an experience. But how to interpret that experi.ence is something I’ve never even tried to figure out. That’s kind of how I feel right now.” She rubbed one hand over the back of the other slowly. “I know you’re not lying. Apart from anything else, you never would. And if you ever did, you’d come up with something much more believable. So if you say there’s a boy asleep in our guestroom who’s Wil.liam Shakespeare’s kid brother, then there is. But I still don’t know what to do with that.”
I watched her rub her hand back and forth.
“Well, I suppose the first best thing to do is let him sleep,” Mom said. “Then, when he wakes up, we’ll decide what we have to do next. We’ll figure it out. Whatever it is.” She shook her head. “I wish your father were here. We could really use some of his off-the-wall psychological expertise right now.”
Then she went and had her shower.
I sat there listening to her finish bathing. I thought about what she’d said about that strange moment when she’d seen something in the sky that was absolutely not like anything else she’d ever seen.
Yes, Edmund was a UFO. But he wasn’t an alien. Not to me.
When Mom came back into the kitchen I saw she was wearing sweats, which was not usual. I figured that with a strange man in the house she was making sure she was well covered up.
Edmund came into the kitchen carrying The Riverside Shakespeare in his hand. He was wearing the clothes I’d washed for him.
“I woke early and thought it a good time to read… Oh! Give ye god den, lady.” He bowed deeply to Mom.
“Good morning,” Mom said. “Miranda has told me about you. Welcome.”
“Ye are very good. How may I serve ye?”
“Just sit down and I’ll make you breakfast,” Mom said.
My Edmund-related tinglies were coming back. I thought how nice it would be to spend the day with him—and be.sides, I was already missing first period.
“You know,” I said, “I could stay home today. I mean, I could help you two get to know each other better.”
“Then you would not be able to go to tryouts this after.noon,” Mom said.
“Oh. You could lie for me. Just call the office and tell
“Mom, sit down. I’ve got something to tell you,” I replied.
“Don’t you have school?”
“I do. But this is important,” I said.
“Can I get my shower first, at least?” Mom asked.
“Good idea,” I said. “In fact, great idea.”
“Uh-oh,” she said. “If you think a shower is going to help that much, I’d better hear this now.”
“Good thinking,” I said.
Mom put her chin in her hand and listened to me, leaning on our broken table, while I told her the whole story, includ.ing hanging out with Bobby and Drew, and Edmund barfing on our lawn. Even in scrubs, after sixteen hours of work, my fifty-year-old mother was beautiful. Her long straight nose and her big gray eyes comforted me in a way nothing else could have. And I knew I was wrong; Mom did believe me. I could tell it from her face.
When I was done, she studied me long and hard. “You know, I saw a UFO once,” she said.
“You never told me that.”
“It was funny,” Mom said. “I was driving to L.A. on Highway 60, and the guy I was with said, ‘Look isn’t that a UFO?’ and there, hanging over the freeway, was this beau.tiful thing. It had a shiny coppery bottom and a silver dome that seemed to be shining emerald light through a row of windows. I looked for wings, but there weren’t any, or ro.tors like a helicopter’s. But there weren’t any of those, either. Then we drove right under it, and I stuck my head out the side window and looked back and it was gone.”
“Wow,” I said. “You had a close encounter. You could have seen aliens.”
“The point is, Miranda, I saw a UFO once and I still don’t believe in them.” Mom shook her head. “I mean, I know I had an experience. But how to interpret that experi.ence is something I’ve never even tried to figure out. That’s kind of how I feel right now.” She rubbed one hand over the back of the other slowly. “I know you’re not lying. Apart from anything else, you never would. And if you ever did, you’d come up with something much more believable. So if you say there’s a boy asleep in our guestroom who’s Wil.liam Shakespeare’s kid brother, then there is. But I still don’t know what to do with that.”
I watched her rub her hand back and forth.
“Well, I suppose the first best thing to do is let him sleep,” Mom said. “Then, when he wakes up, we’ll decide what we have to do next. We’ll figure it out. Whatever it is.” She shook her head. “I wish your father were here. We could really use some of his off-the-wall psychological expertise right now.”
Then she went and had her shower.
I sat there listening to her finish bathing. I thought about what she’d said about that strange moment when she’d seen something in the sky that was absolutely not like anything else she’d ever seen.
Yes, Edmund was a UFO. But he wasn’t an alien. Not to me.
When Mom came back into the kitchen I saw she was wearing sweats, which was not usual. I figured that with a strange man in the house she was making sure she was well covered up.
Edmund came into the kitchen carrying The Riverside Shakespeare in his hand. He was wearing the clothes I’d washed for him.
“I woke early and thought it a good time to read… Oh! Give ye god den, lady.” He bowed deeply to Mom.
“Good morning,” Mom said. “Miranda has told me about you. Welcome.”
“Ye are very good. How may I serve ye?”
“Just sit down and I’ll make you breakfast,” Mom said.
My Edmund-related tinglies were coming back. I thought how nice it would be to spend the day with him—and be.sides, I was already missing first period.
“You know,” I said, “I could stay home today. I mean, I could help you two get to know each other better.”
“Then you would not be able to go to tryouts this after.noon,” Mom said.
“Oh. You could lie for me. Just call the office and tell
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