Mr. Vern

Andrew Wall was officially sixteen years old the moment he opened his eyes. It was 7:42., Saturday, September third. Piss, brush your teeth, get the hell out of the house. This was the agenda for the morning.

With a deep breath and a final conviction, he was up and out of bed.

He could smell beacon and pancakes the second he stood up. He shook his head. He told her he had plans. He told her two days ago he had plans! “Don't do anything special, I have plans,” he had said. He pictured her there-- saw her plainly at the staircase when he said it. She had great dark circles under her eyes and a fake smile . She was trying to be nice and trying to be appreciated. What plans? she had asked.

“Plans,” he had said. “What do you mean, what plans!” Plans. Couple of friends. You know, Whose it and What's it and of course Charley Manson and his little brother, Fred. The gang, Mom!

He said none of that. Not really. He should have, though. He should have said “You wouldn't know my friends if you tripped over them!” He should have said, “Why don't you go find your husband, Captain Victory?” He should have said, “Nice job marrying that guy!”

“What's the problem?” he did say. “Jesus, I'm sixteen years old!”

And he was sixteen years old. And he did have plans.

He slid his favorite dark red shirt off a hanger. The shirt went well with his light red hair. He put on his three day old Levis because he had forgotten to wash them and they were right there on the floor. He opened his dirty clothes bag and found two semi-descent white socks. He put them all on and his tennis shoes and was heading for the window when there was a timid knock on his door and the door opened.

“What, Vera?” he said. He had his back turned.

“What are you doing?” came his half-sister's tiny voice.

“Get out of here, Vera.”

There was silence from the doorway.

Andrew turned around to see Vera standing there in her pajamas with the little feet sewn into them. She held a red helium balloon by a long string.

“Is that for me?”

She didn't say anything. She was looking at the floor. She looked as though a smile had just slid off her face.

He went over to the doorway and brought Vera inside and closed the door softly. She stood there, a miserable little girl with a red balloon in her left hand. The other hand she held behind her back.

“Is that for me?” he asked again.

She nodded her head still looking at the wood floor and the clothes strewn about.

“Well that is really nice of you, Vera.”

She nodded her head.

“I mean, that's really, really, really nice!”

She nodded her head again and handed the balloon over. He took it and held it by the string and told her how much he liked it. Then he suggested she should go back to her room and play with her hamster.

She looked up at him suddenly. Her eyes went wide. “You didn't hear?” she said. “Oh my God!”

“Sssssh,” Andrew said. He brought her further into his room feeling the bird-like bones of her back. He sat her on his unmade bed.

“Oh-My-God!” she said again. She took in a deep breath and was about to go into it, but Andrew stopped her.

“Wait a second, Vera,” he put up his hands and waved them in front of her face, “Time out! I heard. I just forgot.”

“He's gone!”

“Yeah, I know. I heard,”

“I can't find him anywhere!” Vera said, her eyes wide and one hand still hidden behind her back.

“I know,” said Andrew. He handed her back the balloon. He said, “Why don't you take this and hold onto it for me?”

She took the balloon carefully. She said, “Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He had her on her feet again and moved her toward the door. “You take the balloon and we'll find your hamster later.”

“He's gone. Oh my God, he is so gone!”

“I know, we'll find it later.”

“It's a him!”

“I know, but we'll find him tomorrow.” He opened his bedroom door and drew her by the back of her head, herding her outside. The smell of beacon and pancakes was stronger now.

“What do you have behind your back, Vera?”

“It's your birthday present,” she said. “It's a Ford Mustang!”

Suddenly Andrew was holding a toy car in his hand. It was still in the box and he could see the car through the plastic window.

“Mom said you couldn't have a car, and I, and I knew you wanted one.”

“Thank you, Vera.”

“I bought it with my own money!”

“That is really nice of you,” Andrew said. He looked at the toy and at Vera standing in the hallway with the balloon in her hands. He took a deep breath. “Come on,” he said, “let's go find your hamster. What's his name again?”

“Mr. Vern.”.

“Mr. Vern!”

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