Transcription
There must have been signals all along because although what happened that Sunday made me feel sadness later and reminded me again how much I still had to learn, it didn't come as a true surprise.
By Friday, Josie was confident she'd be well enough for the expedition and spent many moments trying on different outfits and studying herself in the long mirror inside the wardrobe. Occasionally, she'd ask me what I thought, and I'd smile and be as encouraging as I could. But I must even then have been aware of the signals, because when I praised her appearance, I was always careful to hold something back. I knew already that Sunday breakfasts would become tense.
On other mornings, even when the mother stayed beyond her quick coffee, there was still the feeling that every exchange could be the last till the evening. And while this sometimes made both Josie and the mother speak sharply to each other, the breakfast couldn't become loaded with signals. But on a Sunday, when the mother wasn't about to go anywhere, there was the feeling that each question she asked could lead to an uncomfortable conversation.
When I was still new in the house, I believed there were particular danger topics for Josie, and that if only the mother could be prevented from finding routes to these topics, the Sunday breakfasts would remain comfortable. But on further observation, I saw that even if the danger topics were avoided—topics like Josie's education, assignments, or her social interaction scores—the uncomfortable feeling could still be there. Because it really had to do with something beneath these topics, that the danger topics were themselves ways the mother had devised to make certain emotions appear inside Josie's mind.
So, I became concerned when, on that Sunday morning of the trip to Morgan's Falls, the mother asked Josie why she liked to play a particular oblong game in which the characters continually died in car accidents. Josie had first replied cheerfully, "It's just the way the game's set up, Mom. You get more and more of your people in the suburb superbus, but if you haven't figured out the routes, you can lose all your best people in a crash."
"Why would you play a game like that, Josie? A game in which something awful like that happens?"
Josie continued for a while to answer the mother patiently, but before long, the smile left her voice. In the end, she was repeating that it was just a game she enjoyed, while the mother asked more and more questions about it and seemed to become angry. Then, the mother's anger seemed all at once to vanish. She still didn't become cheerful, but she looked at Josie in a gentle way, and her kind smile transformed her entire face. "I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't be bringing this up today. I'm being so unfair." And she stepped off her high stool, went to the one Josie was on, and held Josie in an embrace that seemed to go on and on, until the mother was obliged to introduce a rocking motion to disguise how long it was lasting. Josie, I could see, didn't mind at all how long the hug lasted. And when they separated, I didn't turn from the refrigerator until I was sure they had the rift between them had been mended.
So, the breakfast I'd feared might pose a last obstacle to our going to Morgan's Falls ended in harmony, and my mind became filled with excitement. Only in the final moments, after the mother and Melania housekeeper had already gone out to the car, did I see Josie as she placed her arms through the sleeves of her padded jacket, pause, and allow weariness to pass through her. She finished putting on the jacket and, noticing me across the hall, smiled brightly. Then we heard the car outside and the wheels moving over the loose stones. Melania housekeeper came back into the house, holding her keys, and gestured for us to go out. But now that I was aware, I was able to see another tiny signal: something in Josie's hurried step as she walked ahead of me out into the loose stones. The mother was behind the wheel, watching us through the windshield, and a fear came into my mind. But Josie betrayed no more signs. She even managed to skip of happiness as she crossed the loose stones and opened the front passenger door by herself.
I'd never been inside a car before, but Rosa and I had watched so many people get in and out of vehicles, their postures and maneuvers, how they sat once the vehicles began to move, that there was nothing that came as a surprise to me. As I navigated into my rear seat, the cushion was softer than I'd expected, and the seat in front, the one Josie was now in, was very close, so I could hardly see it all in front of me. But I created no delay. I had no time to make detailed observations of the car's interior because I became aware that the uncomfortable atmosphere had returned. In the front, Josie was silent, looking away from the mother beside her, gazing towards the house and Melania housekeeper coming across the loose stones, carrying the shapeless bag that contained, among other things, Josie's emergency medicines. The mother had both hands on the steering wheel, as though eager to set off, and her head was turned in the same direction as Josie's. But I could tell the mother wasn't looking at Melania housekeeper's approach or at the house, but straight at Josie herself. The mother's eyes had grown large, and because the mother's face was especially thin and bony, the eyes appeared even larger than they were.
Melania housekeeper put the shapeless bag in the trunk and thumped down the lid. Then she opened the rear door on her side and slid into the seat next to mine. She said to me, "AF, strap on belt, or you get damaged." I was trying to understand the belt system, which I'd seen so many car passengers operating, when the mother said, "You think you have me fooled, don't you, girl?"
There was a silence. Then Josie asked, "Why? What are you saying, Mom? You can't hide. You're sick again."
"I'm not sick, Mom. I'm fine."
"Why do you do this to me, Josie? Always. Why does it have to be this way?"
"I don't know what you're saying, Mom. You think I don't look forward to a trip like this? My one free day with my daughter? A daughter I happen to love very dearly, who tells me she's fine when she's really feeling sick?"
"That's not true, Mom. I really am fine." But I could hear the change in Josie's voice. It was as if the effort she'd been making until this point had been abandoned, and she was suddenly exhausted. "Why do you pretend, Josie? You think it doesn't hurt me?"
"Mom, I swear I'm fine. Please drive us. Claire has never been to a waterfall, and she's so looking forward to it. Clara's looking forward to it, Mom, please."
"Melania," the mother said, "Josie needs assistance. Get out the car. Go round her side, please, and help her. She may fall if she tries to get out herself."
There was silence again. "Melania, what's up back there? Are you sick too?"
"Maybe, Miss Josie, make it. What's that? I help her. AF2, Miss Josie. All right. Maybe let me get this right. Is this your assessment that my daughter is well enough to spend the day out at the falls? This gives me concern about you, Melania."
Melania housekeeper was silent but still didn't move. "Melania, am I to understand you're refusing to get out to help Josie disembark?"
Melania housekeeper was looking out between the front seats at the road ahead. Her face looked puzzled, like something further up the hill was hard to identify. Then, suddenly, she opened her door and got out.
"Mom," Josie said, "please, can we go? Please don't do this."
"Do you think I like this? Any of this? Okay, you're sick, that's not your fault. But not telling anyone, keeping it to yourself this way, so we all get in the car, the whole day before us—that's not nice, Josie. It's nice. It's not nice you telling me I'm sick when I'm easily strong enough."
Melania housekeeper opened the door beside Josie from the outside. Josie fell silent, then her face, full of sadness, looked round the edge of the car seat at me. "I'm sorry, Clara. We'll go another time. I promise. I'm really so sorry."
"It's all right," I said. "We must do what's best for Josie." I was about to get out also, but then the mother said, "Just a second, Clara. Like Josie says, you were looking forward to this. Well, why don't you stay right where you are?"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"Well, it's simple. Josie's too sick to go. She might have told us that earlier, but she chose not to. Okay, so she stays behind. Melania too. But no reason, Clara, why you and I can't go."
I couldn't see the mother's face because the seat backs were high, but Josie's face was still peering around the edge of her seat at me. Her eyes had become dull, as if they no longer cared what they saw. "Okay, Melania," the mother said in a louder voice. "Help Josie out. Careful with her, she's sick. Remember, Clara."
Josie said, "Are you really going with her to the falls?"
"The mother's suggestion is very kind," I said. "But perhaps it would be best if at this time—"
"Hold on, Clara," the mother said, then added, "What is this, Josie? One moment you're concerned about Clara, how she's never seen a waterfall, and now you're trying to make her stay home?"
Josie went on looking at me, and Melania housekeeper continued to stand outside the car, a hand held out for Josie to take. Finally, Josie said, "Okay, maybe you should go, Clara. You and Mom. What's the sense in the whole day getting spoiled just because I'm sorry, sorry I'm sick all the time? I don't know why I thought tears would come, but she held them back and went on quietly. "Sorry, Mom. I really am. I must be such a downer. Clara, you go on. You'll love the waterfall." Then her face disappeared from the edge of the seat.
For a second, I was uncertain what to do. Both the mother and Josie had now expressed the view that I should remain in the car and go on the outing. And I could see how likely it was, if I were to do so, that I would gain new, perhaps crucial, insights concerning Josie's situation and how I might best help her. And yet, her sadness as she walked back over the loose stones was very clear. Her walk now, she had nothing to hide, was fragile, and she made no fuss about receiving Melania housekeeper's support. We watched Melania housekeeper unlock the front door, and the two of them go inside. Then the mother started the car, and we began to move.
Because it was my first time inside a car, I couldn't make a good estimate of our speed. It seemed to me the mother drove unusually fast, and for a moment, fear came into my mind. But I remembered she drove up the same hill every day and so wasn't likely to cause dangers. I concentrated on the trees rushing by and the large openings that would suddenly appear on one side than the other, through which I could see treetops from above. Then the road was no longer climbing, and the car crossed a large field, empty except for a barn in the far distance, quite like the one visible from Josie's window.
Then the mother spoke for the first time. Because she was driving, she didn't turn back and turn to me in the back, and if I hadn't been the only one present inside the vehicle, I might not have guessed she was addressing me. "They always do this. Toy with your feelings." Then, a moment later, she said, "Maybe it looks like I'm being hard, but how else will they learn? They have to learn we have feelings too." Then, a while later, "Does she think I like being away from her day after day?"
There were now other cars, and unlike outside the store, they were traveling in both directions. One would appear in the far distance and come speeding toward us, but the drivers never made errors and always managed to miss us. Soon, the scenes were changing so rapidly around me, I had difficulty ordering them. At one stage, a box became filled with the other cars, while the boxes immediately beside it filled with segments of road and surrounding field. I did my best to preserve the smooth line of the road as it moved from one box into the next, but with the view constantly changing, I decided this wasn't possible and allowed the road to break and start afresh each time it crossed a border. Despite all these problems, the scope of the view and the hugeness of the sky were very exciting. The sun was often behind clouds, but I sometimes saw his patterns falling right the way across a valley or sweep of land.
When the mother next spoke, it was more obvious she was speaking to me. "It must be nice sometimes to have no feelings. I envy you." I considered this, then said, "I believe I have many feelings. The more I observe, the more feelings become available to me." She laughed unexpectedly, making me start. "In that case," she said, "maybe you shouldn't be so keen to observe." Then she added, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm sure you have all sorts of feelings. When Josie was unable to come with us just now, I felt sadness."
"You felt sadness?"
"Okay," she became silent, perhaps to concentrate on her driving. "And the car is coming in the opposite direction." Then she said, "There was a time, not so long ago, when I thought I was getting to feel less and less, a little less each day. I didn't know if I was happy about that or not. But now, lately, I seem to be getting overly sensitive to everything. Clara, look over to your left. You okay back there? Look way over to your left and tell me what you see."
We were crossing lands that neither rose nor fell, and the sky was still very large. I saw flat fields, empty of barns or farm vehicles, stretching into the distance. But near the horizon was what appeared to be a town created entirely out of metal boxes. "You see it?" the mother asked, not taking her own gaze from the road.
"It's far away," I said. "But I can see a kind of village, perhaps the sort where cars or other such items are made."
"Not a bad guess, actually. That's a chemical plant, and a pretty cutting-edge one. Kimble Refrigeration, though they haven't had anything to do with a refrigerator for decades. It was the reason why we first came out here. Josie's father was employed there." Although the metal boxes village remained distant, I could now make out tubes connecting one building to the next, and other tubes pointing up at the sky. Something about it reminded me of the awful cootings machine, and a concern came into my mind about pollution. But just then, the mother said, "It's a good place. Clean energy, and clean energy out. Josie's father was once a rising star there."
Then the metal box's village was no longer visible, and I straightened in my seat. "You get—we get along fine now," the mother said. "You can almost say we're friends."
"That's a good thing for Josie, of course."
"I wonder how the father still work? How, uh, I wonder does the father still work at the refrigeration village?"
"What? Oh, no. He was substituted, like all the rest of them. He was a brilliant talent, still is, of course. We get along better now, that's the important thing for Josie."
We traveled after that for some time without talking. The road now climbing steeply. Then the mother slowed the car, and we turned down a narrow road. When I next looked between the front seats, the new road appeared only slightly wider than the car itself. Before us, marked into the road surface, were muddy parallel lines made by earlier wheels, and there were trees pressing in on us from both sides, like buildings in a city street. The mother made the car continue down this narrow road, and though she drove more slowly, I wondered what would happen if another car came the other way.
Then we turned another corner and came to a stop. "This is it, Clara. From here, we're on foot. Can you manage it?"
When we got out, I felt the chilly wind and heard the birds noises. There were more wild trees around us as we climbed a path with rocks and clusters of mud. I had to take precautions, but I kept up behind the mother, and after a time, we went through a gap between two wooden posts onto another path. This one kept rising, and the mother had frequently, had frequently to stop to allow me to catch up. It occurred to me then she might have been correct, after all, in believing this trip was too difficult for Josie.
Just at this point, I happened to look to my left, over the fence running beside us, and saw the bull in the field watching us carefully. I had seen photos of bulls in magazines, but of course, never in reality. And even though this one was standing quite far from us, and I knew it couldn't cross the fence, I was so alarmed by its appearance I gave an exclamation and came to a halt. I'd never seen anything that I'd never before seen anything that gave all at once so many signals of anger, in the wish to destroy. Its face, its horns, its cold eyes watching me, all brought fear into my mind. But I felt something more, something stranger and deeper. At that moment, it felt to me some great error had been made, that the creature should be allowed to stand in the sun's pattern at all, that this bull belongs somewhere deep in the ground, far within the mud and darkness, and its presence on the grass could only have awful consequences.
"It's okay," the mother said. "He can't touch us now. Come on. I need a coffee." I made myself look away from the bull and followed the mother. Then, quite soon, we were no longer climbing, and around us appeared the rough wooden tables I'd seen in Josie's photograph. I counted 14 of them, placed a crown around the field, each one with benches attached on either side, made from wooden planks. There were adults, children, AFs, dogs, sitting at the tables or running, walking, and standing around them. Just beyond the tables was the waterfall. It was larger and fiercer than the one I'd seen in the magazine, filling eight boxes just by itself. I looked for the sun, but couldn't see him in the gray sky.
"We'll sit here," the mother said. "Go on, sit down. Wait for me. I need coffee." I watched her walk to a hut made of the same rough wood, some 20 paces away. It had an open counter at the front, so that it could function as a store, and passersby were now standing in line there. I was glad of the chance to sit down and orient myself, and as I waited at the rough table for the mother to return, I found the surroundings settling into order. The waterfall no longer took up so many boxes, and I watched children and their AFs passing easily from one box to another, from with barely any interruption. Although none of them looked my way with any interest, and each seemed very focused on their child, I felt pleased to be in the presence once more of other AFs, and for a moment watched them with happiness, following one then another with my gaze.
Then the mother returned and sat down in front of me, and I turned to face her fully, the waterfall moving fiercely behind her. Her coffee was in a paper cup, and she raised it to her mouth. I remembered what Josie had said about sitting close to the waterfall, how your back would get wet without your noticing, and I wondered about mentioning this to the mother, but something in her manner told me she didn't wish me to speak just yet. She was gazing straight at my face, the way she done from the sidewalk when Rosa and I had been in the window. She drank coffee all the time, looking at me, till I found the mother's face filled with six boxes by itself, her narrowed eyes recurring in three of them, each time at a different angle. She said finally, "So, do you like it here?"
"It's wonderful. So now you've seen a real waterfall. I'm grateful you brought me here."
"That's odd. I was just thinking you didn't look so happy. I don't see your usual smile."
"I apologize. I didn't mean to seem ungrateful. I'm very pleased to see the waterfall, but perhaps also regretful Josie couldn't be with us."
"I am too. I feel bad about it." Then she said, "But I don't feel quite so bad because you're here. Thank you. Maybe Melania was right. Maybe Josie would have been fine."
I said nothing. The mother sipped her coffee and continued to look at me. "What did Josie tell you about this place?" she said. "She said it was beautiful, and she'd always enjoyed very much her trips here with you."
"That's what she said. And did she tell you how we always came here with Sal? How much Sal loved it here?"
"Josie did mention her sister," then I added, "I saw Josie's sister in the photograph."
The mother stared so intensely at me that I thought I'd made an error, but then she said, "I think I know the one you mean. The one with the three of us sitting over there. I remember Melania taking it. We were over at that bench right there. Me, Sal, Josie. Something wrong, Clara?"
"I was very sad to hear Sal passed away."
"Sad puts it pretty well. I'm sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't have."
"It's okay. It's been a while since she left us. Shame you didn't meet Sal. Different from Josie. Josie just says what she thinks, doesn't care if she says the wrong thing. That gets irritating sometimes, but I love her for it. Sal wasn't like that. Sal would have to think everything through before she came out with something, you know. She was more sensitive. Maybe she didn't handle being sick so well as Josie's doing."
"I wonder why Sal passed away."
The mother's eyes changed, and something cruel appeared around her mouth. "What kind of question is that?"
"I'm sorry. I was merely curious to know."
"It's not your business to be curious. I'm very sorry. What's it to you? It's happened, that's all." Then, after a long moment, the mother's face softened. "I think it was right we didn't bring Josie today. She wasn't well. But now you're sitting here like this, I do miss her." She looked around, turning to look at the waterfall. Then she turned back, and her gaze went past me to the passers-by, the dogs, and AFs. "Okay, Clara. Since Josie isn't here, I want you to be Josie, just for a little while. Since we're up here, I'm asking you, Clara, you're smart. If she were sitting here instead of you right now, how would she sit?"
"I don't think she'd sit the way you're sitting. No, Josie would be more like this." The mother leaned closer over the table top, and her eyes narrow till her face filled eight boxes, leaving only the peripheral boxes for the waterfall. And for a moment, it felt to me her expression varied between one box and the next. In one, for instance, her eyes were laughing cruelly, but in the next, they were filled with sadness. The sounds of the waterfall, the children, and the dogs all faded to a hush to make way for whatever the mother was about to say.
"That's good. That's very good. But now I want you to move. Do something. Don't stop being Josie. Let me see you will move a little." I smiled in the way Josie would, settling into a slouching, informal posture. "That's good. Now say something. Let me hear you speak."
"I'm sorry, I'm not sure."
"No, that's Clara. I want Josie."
"Hi, Mom. Josie here."
"Good. More. Come on."
"Hi, Mom. Nothing to worry about, right? I got here and I'm fine. I told you I'd be fine. Melania was right. Nothing wrong with me. A little bit tired, that's all."
"I'm sorry, Josie," the mother said. "I'm sorry I didn't bring you here today."
"That's okay. I know you were worried for me. I'm okay. I wish you were here, but you're not. I wish I could stop you getting sick."
"Don't worry, Mom. I'm going to be fine."
"How can you say that? What do you know about it? You're just a kid. A kid who loves life and believes everything can be fixed. What do you know about it?"
"It's okay, Mom. Don't worry. I'll get well soon. I know it'll happen."
"What? What are you saying? You think you know more than the doctors? More than I do? Your sister made promises too, but she couldn't keep them. Don't you do the same."
"But Mom, Sal was sick with something different. I'm going to get well, okay?"
"Josie, so tell me how you'll get well? There's some special help coming? Someone? Something no one's thought of yet? Then I'll be well again."
"What is this? Who's this talking now?"
In box after box, I could see the cheekbones of the mother's face, very pronounced beneath her skin. "Really, Mom, I'm going to be fine."
"That's enough. Enough." The mother stood up and walked away. I could then see the waterfall again, and its noise, as well as that of the people behind me, returned louder than before. The mother stopped near the wooden rail marking where the ground finished and the waterfall began. I could see the mist hanging before her, and I thought she would become wet in moments, but she continued standing with her back to me. Then, at last, she turned and waved. "Clara, come on over here. Come and take a look."
I got up from the bench and went to her. She'd called me Clara, so I knew I shouldn't attempt anymore to imitate Josie. She gestured for me to come closer still. "See? Take a look. You've never seen a waterfall before, so take a look. What do you think?"
"It's wonderful. Much more impressive than in the magazine. Something special, right?"
"I'm glad you're seeing it now. Let's get back. I'm concerned about Josie."
The mother didn't speak for the entire way back down to the car. She walked quickly, always at four paces ahead, and I had to take care not to make errors on the steep downhill path. As we passed the spot where we'd seen the bull, I looked over the field, right into the distance, but the terrible creature was now nowhere to be seen, and I wondered if it had been taken back down into the ground.
When we reached the car, I began to get into my usual seat, but the mother said, "Travel in front. You'll see better." So I got in beside her, and it was like the difference between mid-store and the window. We descended across the fields, the sun visible between clouds, and I observed how the tall trees on the horizon gathered in tight groups of seven or eight, even though all around them there was emptiness. The car followed a long, thin line across the land, and I saw that what at first had appeared to be part of a distant field's pattern was, in fact, sheep. We passed one field containing more than 40 such creatures, and although we were moving very fast, I was able to see that each one of them was filled with kindness, the exact opposite of the terrible bull from earlier. My gaze fell in particular on four sheep that looked even more gentle than the others. They'd arranged themselves on the grass in a neat row, one after the other, as though proceeding on a journey, but I could tell, even though we were passing quickly, that they were in fact standing quite still, aside from the small movements of their mouths as they ate the grass.
"I'm grateful to you, Clara. Having you with me made it not so bad. I'm so glad. Maybe sometime we'll do this again if Josie's too sick to come out."
When I said nothing, she said, "You don't mind, do you, Clara, if we do something like this again?"
"No, not at all. If Josie isn't able to come, you know what I think? It's best we say nothing to Josie about this. Nothing about what you were doing up here imitating her. She might take it the wrong way." Then, after a moment, she asked, "So, we're agreed? Nothing to Josie about that?"
"As you wish."
I could now see the metal boxes village in the distance again, this time to our right. I thought she might say something more about it or about the father, but she continued to drive in silence, and then the metal boxes village had disappeared. Only then did she say, quite suddenly, "Kids can be hurtful sometimes. They believe if you happen to be an adult, nothing can possibly hurt you. Still, she's grown up some since you've been around. She's become more considerate."
"I'm glad it's been noticeable. She's definitely more mindful of others these days."
I could see a trunk tree with a trunk that was, in fact, three thin trunks entwined together to look like a single one. I observed it carefully as we passed, churning in my seat to see it for longer.
"What were you saying earlier," the mother said, "about her getting well? Some special kind of help coming along? You were just talking, right?"
"You must excuse me. I know that you, the doctor, and Melania housekeeper have all considered very carefully Josie's condition. It's very concerning. Even so, I'm hoping soon she'll get better."
"Is that merely hoping, or is this something more solid you're expecting? Something the rest of us haven't seen?"
"I suppose it's merely a hope, but a real one. I believe Josie will soon become better."
The mother didn't speak for several moments after that, her eyes staring through the windshield with an expression so distant I wondered if she could see the road before us. Then she said quietly, "You're an intelligent AF. Maybe you can see things the rest of us can't. Maybe you're right to be hopeful. Maybe you're right."
When we got back to the house, Josie wasn't in the kitchen or the open plan. The mother and Melania housekeeper stood in the doorway of the kitchen and talked in low voices, and I could tell Melania housekeeper was reporting that Josie had been fine in our absence. The mother kept nodding, then walked across the hall to the bottom of the stairs and called up to Josie. When Josie called back with a single "Okay," the mother remained not moving at the foot of the stairs for some time. Then she shrugged and went off towards the open plan.
I was now alone in the hall, so went up to the stairs to Josie. She was sitting on the rug, her back against the bed, her knees drawn up to rest a sketch pad against them. She was concentrating on what she was drawing with her pencil, and so didn't look up when I greeted her. Scattered around her were several other sheets torn from the sketch pad, some abandoned after a quick few quick lines, others densely filled.
"I'm so glad Josie's been well," I said.
"Yeah, I'm okay." She didn't look up from her sketching. "So, how was the trip?"
"It was marvelous. Such a pity Josie couldn't come."
"Yeah, that was too bad. Did you check out the waterfall?"
"Yes, it was wonderful. Mom enjoy yourself?"
"I believe so. Of course, she very much missed having Josie there." At last, she looked my way, glancing quickly over the top of her sketch sketch pad, and I saw in her eyes an expression I'd never seen before. And I remembered again the voice at the interaction meeting asking Josie why she hadn't chosen a B3 and a reply with a laugh. "Now I'm starting to think I should have." Then her gaze fell away from me, and she began to draw again.
For a long time, I remained standing at the spot where I'd first entered the room. Eventually, I said, "I'm very sorry if I did something to upset Josie."
"Didn't upset me. What makes you think that? So, we're still good friends? You're my AF, so we must be good friends, right?" But there was no smile in her voice. It was clear she wished to be alone to get on with her sketching, so I left the room to stand outside on the landing.
Part Three
I hoped the shadows of the Morgan's Falls trip might be gone by the next morning, but I was disappointed, and Josie's cold manner continued for a long time afterwards. Even more puzzling was the change Morgan's Falls made to the mother's manner. I believed the trip had gone well, and that there would now be a warmer atmosphere between us, but the mother, just like Josie, became more distant. And if she encountered me in the hall or on the landing, she'd no longer greet me in the way she'd done before. Naturally, then, in the days that followed, I thought often about why the interaction meeting should cast no shadows at all, but Morgan's Falls, despite my complying with Josie's and the mother's wishes, had produced such consequences. Again, the possibility came into my mind that my limitations in comparison to B3s had somehow made themselves obvious that day, causing both Josie and the mother to regret the choices they made. If this were so, I knew my best course was to work harder than ever to be a good AF to Josie until the shadows receded. At the same time, what was becoming clear to me was the extent to which humans, in their wish to escape loneliness, made maneuvers that were very complex and hard to fathom. And I saw it was possible that the consequences of Morgan's Falls had at no stage been within my control.
As things turned out, however, I had little time to dwell on the Morgan's Falls shadows because several days after the outing, Josie's health collapsed. She became too weak to go down in the mornings to the mother's quick coffee, so instead, the mother would come up to the bedroom and stand over Josie's sleeping figure, her back remaining very straight even as she sipped her coffee and looked down at the bed. Once the mother left for the day, Melania housekeeper would take over, moving the easy chair close to the bed and sitting with her oblong on her lap, eyes moving back and forth between the screen and the sleeping Josie. And it was on one such morning, as I was standing just inside the bedroom door in readiness to help, that Melania housekeeper turned and said, "AF, you behind me all the time? Creep me out. Go outdoors."
"She had said outdoors?" I turned to the door before asking quietly, "Excuse me, housekeeper, do you mean outside the house?"
"Outside room? Outside house? Who care? Come back quick if I send signal."
I had never before gone into the outdoors on my own, but it was clear that as far as Melania housekeeper was concerned, there was no reason I shouldn't do so. I went carefully down the staircase, excitement entering my mind despite the worries concerning Josie. When I stepped out onto the low loose stones, the sun was high but seemed weary. I was unsure about closing the house door behind me, but in the end, since there were no passers-by and I didn't wish to disturb Josie by sounding the door chime on my return, I pulled the door nearly closed without engaging the lock mechanism. Then I stepped further into the shadows or outdoor.
To my left, I could see the grass mound where I'd met Rick flying as birds. Beyond the mound was the road along which the mother left each morning, where I myself had traveled to Morgan's Falls. But I turned away from these sites and walked in the opposite direction, crossing the loose stones to where I had a clear view of the fields behind the house. The sky was pale and large because the fields rose gradually into the distance. Mr. McBain's barn was still visible, despite my no longer having the benefit of the rear window's height. The blades of grass were easier to distinguish than from the bedroom, but the main change was that I could now see Rick's house rising out of the grass. I realized that if the rear window had been positioned just a little more to the left, Rick's house would have been visible also from the bedroom.
But I didn't consider Rick's house because my mind had become filled once more with the Josie worries, and specifically the question of why the Son hadn't yet sent his special help as he done for Beggar Man and his dog. I'd first expected the Son to help Josie in the days when she'd become weak before Morgan's Falls. I then accepted that he'd perhaps been correct at the point to wait. But now, with Josie so much weaker and so many things concerning her future in uncertainty, it was puzzling why he continued to delay. I'd already given much thought to this matter, but now I was outside on my own, the field so close, and the sun high above me, I was able to bring several speculations together. I could understand that for all his kindness, the Son was very busy. That there were many people besides Josie who required his attention. That even the Son could be expected to miss individual cases like Josie, especially if she appeared well looked after by a mother, a housekeeper, and an AF. The idea came into my mind then that for her to receive the Son's special help, it might be necessary to draw his attention to Josie's situation in some particular and noticeable way.
I walked on the soft earth till I was beside the fence to the first field and a wooden gate that resembled a picture frame. The gate could be opened simply by raising the loop of cord hung over its post, and I saw I could then move on into the field unimpeded. The grass in the field looked very tall, and yet Josie and Rick, while still small children, had managed to walk through it all the way to Mr. McBain's barn. I could see the start of an informal trail created by the feet of passersby, leading into the grass, and wondered how possible it might be that I could undertake the same journey. I thought too about the time the Son had given his special nourishment to Beggar Man and his dog, and considered the important differences between his circumstances and Josie's. For one thing, many passers-by had known Beggar Man, and when he'd become weak, he done so in a busy street, visible to taxi drivers and runners. Any of these people might have drawn the Son's attention to his condition and that of his dog. Even more significantly, I remembered what had been happening not long before the Son had given his special nourishment to Beggar Man: the cooting machine had been making its awful pollution, obliging even the Son to retreat for a time, and it had been during the fresh new era after the dreadful machine had gone away that the Son, relieved and full of happiness, had given his special help.
I remained for a time in front of the picture frame gate, watching the grass lean one way than the other, wondering what other trails might be hidden within it, and how I might help to rescue Josie from her sickness. But I wasn't yet used to being outdoors alone, and could sense disorientation starting to set in, so I retained returned from the fields and made my way back to the house.