The Author

As he rounded the last gentle curve on the cobblestoned path and stepped out on the sidewalk past the last of the shrubbery, he could barely make out the house on the corner at the end of the next block. However, even from here, he could see the round window beneath the peak of the roof, and the blue MG in the driveway. He felt the warm breeze on his face and glanced up at the small clouds skittering across the deep blue sky; a perfect day for a visit, he thought to himself, just like that first sunny day, when the great adventure really began….

In the back of his mind, he could still hear the buzz of insects and the murmur of the brook behind him. He took his time, savoring every moment as he walked slowly along the sidewalk, remembering one by one all the homes he had created along the way; homes he had never populated in his mind, but nonetheless were populated, he knew, with kind, thoughtful people who were always good neighbors, and knew how to mind their own business when it became important for them to do so. He crossed the street, then paused for a moment before stepping up on the familiar sidewalk on the next block—his block. Their block. He knew every crack in the sidewalk, every uneven place where old tree roots had, with infinite patience and determination, pushed them up slowly over the years, giving the neighborhood that ageless, stable feeling that makes us feel safe and comfortable in the knowledge that it was there long before us and will be there, exactly the same, long after we’re gone. He looked with fondness at the beautiful flowerbeds that dear Mrs. Anderson had tended so faithfully all those years, a task that was taken over joyfully by her daughter after she had passed away. And across the street, the Shaw home, where their very first, tentative connection with the kind, decent side of humanity was made; their first real friends.

He stood there in front of their home, collecting his thoughts for a moment, then moved slowly up the walk to the front door. He reached out and took the heavy brass knob in his hand and gingerly gave it a twist. It turned easily and he heard the solid metallic sound of the sturdy latch moving back smoothly. He jerked his hand away.

Maybe I should knock first, he thought to himself, but he knew it would be inappropriate; even silly. After all this was his house. He knew every nook and cranny, every ding on the floor, every chip of paint off the walls, the positions of every piece of furniture, all the books on the shelves, all the familiar smells.

He took a deep breath and realized he could, even from the front yard, smell the chlorinated water in the backyard pool. He wondered if they had fixed the rusty drain yet, and realized suddenly he didn’t know. He really tried not to concern himself too much with their daily activities; those things that go on in every household in between the parts that give meaning and direction to their lives. He wondered idly whether today would be considered one of those days by them. Only time would tell.

What day in their lives would this day be, he wondered. Perhaps he’d decide later, but he knew for certain that it was well within the range of the good times—the times he had worked so very hard to provide for them. Would these days ever again be as pure as they were now? After they were grown up, would they be like everyone else and yearn sometimes for these simple, pleasant days when time stretched endlessly before them into the dim and distant future and held nothing but promise for even better times?

Once again, he reached out and took the knob in his hand. This time, he turned it firmly and pushed the door open. He could smell the remains of breakfast in the air, the familiar odor of Earl Gray, bangers and scrambled eggs. He glanced at his watch. 9:14AM. Well, at least he now knew what time of day it was; still a fresh new day, most of it still clean, crisp, and unused. He put his hand on the heavy oak rail and slowly started up the stairs; good, solid stairs, he knew. He had never used a squeaky stair as a plot device, so they had remained as solid and sturdy as the day they were built. He ran his hand over the wallpaper, realizing he had really never thought much about it, and certainly had never written about it. It was light brown, with darker vertical stripes outlined in thin, unobtrusive gold leaf every six inches or so, giving it a slightly formal look, typical of homes of this age and stature. It’s funny how the mind fills in the blanks for you once you give it a little thought.

As he approached the third floor, his apprehension grew. He had no idea what he wanted to say to them; all he knew was what he hoped to learn from them. Some sort of acknowledgment that it wasn’t all for nothing, and that he hadn’t made some sort of egregious error in even attempting to plot the course of their lives so cavalierly. He glanced out the window on the third floor landing. The back yard was exactly as he had envisioned it of course, but somehow seeing it so real and solid from this vantage point, feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor inside the house he had floated through for years, never touching a thing, never disturbing so much as a dust mote, made all the difference in the world. Finally, he stood for the first time ever at the top of the stairs and stared at the half-open bathroom door at the end of the short hall and the twin doors to the left and right, remembering all the love-strengthening drama that had unfolded between them in this well-defined part of their home, and the sweet secrets that, in the whole world, only he and the two of them knew. Which room will they be in this morning? Whichever one he wished, of course. He hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath and stepped into Eli’s room.

They were both there, sitting arm-in-arm on the bed, waiting for him. Eli gave him one of her very best pixie grins; Oskar, a shy smile.

We always wondered what you really looked like, “Oskar said. “You look old and young at the same time,” he mused. “Sort of like Eli, but the opposite.” He grinned.

“Well, I think you look quite distinguished,” Eli said. “Sort of like Papa, only with white hair.”

“Yeah, what’s left of it,” Oskar said. They both giggled.

He took no offence whatsoever. Right is right, and they all knew each other well enough by now to get away with such things. “Well, Oskar, you still look quite pretty to me, and Eli, you still look like the sweet pixie who stole my heart and the last five years of my life.”

“What do you mean, ‘pretty?’ I’m thirteen now. You should be able to come up with a more appropriate adjective than that. You’ve kind of worn that one out, don’t you think?” Oskar knew he was kidding, but he couldn’t resist.

“Oskar, I promise you I will never use it again…at least in my world. But unfortunately, many more chapters of your lives have already been written between your’ now,’ and my ‘then.’”

“Really?! Tell us then!” Eli said excitedly. “Will we have children? Will we be able to stay with Mama and Papa forever? Will I get my wings again? Will Hannah get hers?”

“What is it YOU want, Eli? That’s why I’m here. I desperately want to know what YOU want.” He saw the blank look on her face and realized he needed to explain himself. “Some have said the true meaning of your life and your future as described by your Creator, can only be relevant in a universe with an unyielding, uncompromising darkness, or curse, keeping you as you were forever. Your happiness, such as it is, would always be tempered by this darkness, and what’s more, your love for Oskar could only endure for any length of time by compromising all that has kept you human these last 200 years. You would have to bring Oskar into your eternal darkness so he could live forever young.” His heart turned cold, just thinking about it.

Eli cocked her head, “I’m not sure I understand. Why would anyone want me to suffer forever? Especially John?”

“Because, despite the bleakness of that alternate, more magical, universe, there is a sort of poetic or literary ‘rightness’ to it.” He paused a moment. “But only insofar as you remain within the pages of a book, a figment of our collective imagination, where the consequences of your existence, the countless thousands sacrificed on the altar of your eternal lives, remain only in our imaginations. You see, that’s the problem. Your Creator has worked a marvelous bit of magic on me, which has allowed you to cross the border between your world and mine. You’ve become absolutely real to me. And this same price paid in the real world for Oskar’s immortality is too high.”

He slowly walked over and looked out Eli’s round window with its new safety Eliglass. He could almost picture Seth standing there on the sidewalk, winding up and hurling the fateful stone that changed their lives and brought Oskar’s darkness raging to the surface for the first time in his life. Then he stepped past them and sat down on the window seat, moving his hand absently over the leather cushion, noticing for the first time how smooth and pliant it still was after all these years. “At some point between the book, the film, and now, you acquired a soul. And once you had it, I had to save it; I had no choice. And if, as a result, your life in my universe becomes comparatively boring and mundane like most of those in the real world, I accept that as collateral damage. Giving you a chance at a real life on a level playing field is the least I felt I could do, no matter the consequences. The voyeurs of your previously tragic life can look elsewhere for their entertainment.” His voice shook as he thought about the terrible injustice of it; her very life being held hostage by the selfish needs of others.

Eli shook her head. “I don’t really understand you. After all, I’m only twelve. You expect too much of me.”

“I suppose I could fix that just this one time, but I simply can’t bring myself to do it. I love you too much just the way you are. Your maturity must come slowly, tentatively, lest I ruin everything.”

“But what about me?” Oskar asked. “Am I real? Do I have a soul like Eli? Don’t you love me as much as you love Eli? Don’t you have to save my soul too?”

“Of course I do, Oskar, but your soul is my soul. And it’s a rare person who can love his own soul as much as another’s, since he can see it, warts and all, from the inside where all the true darkness lies. But in saving Eli’s soul, I have to save yours too, because you are her true love, and your death would destroy her. I simply can’t bear the thought. Eli’s death, as inevitable as it may be, simply cannot precede my own, but must precede yours.”

“But what do you want me to tell you,” Eli asked, “I don’t know what you want of me.”

“It’s quite simple, really. Is it enough? Have I given you enough to make up for what you’ve lost? For all those years of despair and loneliness, for all the Ernsts and Håkans in your life before your Creator gave Oskar to you? Or was the train ride to Karlstad all you needed? Was that tentative chance at happiness He promised you at the end of His story enough to balance the books for you? What do you really think when my attention is diverted elsewhere because of my own trials and the challenges I face in my real world? What are you thinking when I’m not thinking for you?”

She smiled gently at him, and suddenly her agelessness was there, visible at last, just behind those beautiful deep blue eyes. The real Eli; the one with the new soul. “You’ve made me what I am now. And that’s all I think about when you sleep. What you want for me is always what I want for myself. You’re like Papa; his nightmare was your nightmare. His obsessions are your obsessions. But I promise you this: you will always know when you’ve gone too far. I’ll whisper to you in your sleep. It may not stop you, but at least I will have done my best to warn you. But my happiness isn’t the most important thing to me; you must know that.”

“No, I really don’t.” He was taken aback, as he realized that, hope against hope, she had actually said something unexpected, unscripted. He glanced out the window as the sun slipped behind a small cloud. He could see dark clouds on the horizon, possibly the harbinger of a soft summer rain. “What is it then? What is the most important thing to you, Eli?”

“That you find what you are looking for; the answer to that question you have been asking yourself for five years: Why has my life and who I am, or at least who I was, affected you so deeply? What is the piece of the puzzle that has been missing in your life since you were a child; the piece, the absence of which has infected you with what would ordinarily be considered only a well-written, improbable love story?”

How very perceptive the real Eli is, he thought to himself. “And why would you concern yourself with that, my sweet pixie? Don’t you have more important things to think about? Like the meaning of your life with Oskar, and how you can both best express your love for each other?”

“Because we both owe you everything. Our love now exists only because of you and is a part of you. I love you with all my heart. And I love Oskar too; more than ever, now that I know he is part of you.”

“But it doesn’t matter, Eli. You must know that too. My love for what you are and what you represent abrogates the need for anything in return. It is an end in itself. I revel in it. The beautiful mystery of it gives me all I need. All I need from you is your assurance that I have done right by you.”

“And you have it.” She said decisively. She grinned at him as, once again, the old-but-young Eli bubbled back to the surface. He knew it by the sudden return of the sparkle in her pixie eyes. “Why don’t we all go swimming before the rain starts? Oskar! Go get Mama and Papa. Call Hannah and tell her to come right over! We can have a pool party! Everyone’s been dying to meet you. You can still swim can’t you? You’re not too old for that yet are you,” she asked anxiously.

He smiled at her. “No, Eli, I’m not. But I think, perhaps I’ve intruded on your lives long enough. I really should be going now, don’t you think? I really don’t belong here you know. I’m really not sure how I got here, to tell you the truth.”

“Are…are you sure? I really wanted to talk to you about…things.” Oskar said, hesitantly.

“Oskar, I promise you, those ‘things’ will work themselves out. You will never hurt her in spite of your own misgivings. It’s simply impossible. But, that being said, I would really like to talk to you too, especially around the pool with your mom and dad; and I would love to stay in your world longer in spite of the danger. But we do talk anyway, every night, remember? Every Chapter in your lives is written only after clearing it with you first, just to make sure I get it right.”

“I do remember! It’s just after Eli goes to sleep. I always thought I was just talking to myself, something I’ve done ever since I lived all alone in Blackeberg. With my mom.”

“You WERE just talking to yourself, Oskar.” he smiled gently at him.

Oskar stood up, hesitated a moment, then headed for the door. “Wait here. Please don’t leave ‘till I get back.” He crossed the hall quickly and disappeared into his room.

“Eli? Would you walk with me for a while?”

She abruptly slid into his lap and put her arms around him. He trembled as the absolute reality of her very existence was driven home to him. He could feel her heart beat; the impossible lightness of her small body as she nestled up against him; he could smell the roses in her hair and feel the palpable sweetness of her love. It was almost unbearable.

He realized things were moving in odd directions now; he was no longer in charge. He had no idea why Oskar had left the room. And he certainly hadn’t expected Eli to… He gently put his arms around her, desperately afraid she would suddenly return to the Ether as a result, and his whole carefully-constructed world would dissolve around him and he would go back to…wherever and whenever he had come from.

But she didn’t. And it didn’t. He could feel her moving against him, getting more comfortable in his arms. He turned as he heard the soft sound of the gentle summer rain against the bay window. He hadn’t done that either, he realized.

“I love it when it rains,” Eli said quietly, “I love the smells and the feel of the clean, fresh air when the sun comes out again.” She paused, “And I thank you for the sun. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed it until you gave it back to me.” She squeezed him a little tighter. “And Hannah. Why did you give me Hannah?”

“Because I wanted to repay you in some small measure for what you had given me. Hannah is real in my world. And I knew she would fit perfectly into yours.”

“Hannah and I have secrets, you know; secrets that even you don’t know about.” Eli grinned slyly at him.

“I’m not surprised at anything any more, Eli. What kind of secrets?”

She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore, would they? But we’ll tell you someday; I promise.”

“Here. I want you to have this.” Oskar handed him the Rubik’s cube.

“I didn’t even hear you come in Oskar. But I can’t take it. It’s yours.” He winked at Eli.

“And that means it’s mine to give.” His voice was firm. “You have to take it.”

“How about if I just borrow it for a while? Would that be okay?” he took it in his hand, felt its solidness, its weight; noticed for the first time the scrapes, dings and general wear that the years of use had inflicted on it. It looked more real than even he had imagined it.

Oskar sat down beside them on the window seat. “Do you really have to leave? You could stay, you know. You could have Mom’s old room.”

“No Oskar, I can’t. Besides, you’re going to need that room for other things…later. I’d just be in the way.”

Eli reluctantly climbed out of his lap and took his hand. “Shall we go?”

“Oskar? I hope you don’t mind if we…” And he really didn’t know at this point if Oskar would mind or not, he knew. Oskar was no longer his own either.

“I don’t mind. Besides, we’ll talk tonight anyway. At least we will if Eli falls asleep first.” He kissed her on the cheek.

“We won’t be gone long Oskar; I promise. But why don’t you call Hannah anyway? There’s no reason why we can’t have a pool party anyway. Maybe Jason can come too.”

“Okay Eli!” He paused a moment, then gave him a quick hug, and disappeared down the stairs.

They followed quietly behind him, hand in hand. As they stepped out the door, he took a deep breath, remembering how he loved the fresh, damp air smell just as Eli did. The clouds were mostly gone now, and Mrs. Anderson’s flowers sparkled in the sunlight.

“Why did Mrs. Anderson have to die? I really liked her,” Eli asked solemnly. She remembered that first day she had met her, when she went out in her sunsuit for the first time. When it all began.

“Because everyone dies eventually, Eli. And she died in my world. But she didn’t have a daughter who could look after her flowers.”

“How terribly sad!” she put her arm around his waist, then they crossed the street and made their way slowly toward that final bend in the road at the fringes of this world’s reality, where things at the edges of his vision became fuzzy and gray. Finally, they turned in past the shrubbery and wound their way though the copse to the thicker grove near the stream, where they sat down on the large rock. And there they were. He smiled as he realized he still had a modicum of control over this world. The mother and her eight ducklings swam confidently about, absolutely positive that they were in no danger. Eli smiled at him. “I came early this morning before Oskar was up. I knew they would be here for you.” She squeezed his hand.

So much for my modicum of control, he thought to himself. This world evidently did just fine without him. As it should. After all, wasn’t it real? He smiled at Eli. He was surer of it than ever, now.

“Will we live after you die?” she asked suddenly, snapping him completely out of his musings. Oddly, she didn’t seem to be worried about it; the question was asked in the same tone of voice one might use to ask whether or not Angels were real.

“Of course you will!” and finally, he was certain of it. “You’re as real as I am, and you’ll both be immortal, remember.”

“No, we just won’t get any older,” she corrected him. “Papa told me that nothing lasts forever, and I know he’s right. But forever is a long way off isn’t it?” her eyes sparkled with mischief. “We can have a lot of fun between now and forever.” She squeezed his hand again.

They sat there quietly for a while, then he slid off the rock onto the soft grass and leaned back against it, turning his face to the sun. She moved down beside him, then curled up in his lap. “Are you happy in your world?” she asked him.

“I’m happy in both worlds, Eli. Because you’re with me in both of them. But in my world, you’re but one of the many people I love.”

“I’m glad,” she whispered. “And in my world, you’re one of the many people I love, too.”

They lay there together quietly for a while. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, and listened to her purring softly against his chest. He fell asleep slowly to the hum of insects and the soft, gentle sounds of the brook.

§

“It’s about time! The doctor said it wasn’t the anesthetic; that was local. You were just asleep! It must be nice.” His eyes opened and he grinned at his daughter.

“I’ll take ‘em when I can get ‘em. Where’s your mom?”

“She went to get coffee. And tea for you, of course. But first, you have to drink this juice before they’ll let you leave.” She handed him a juice box.

“Where’s my shirt?” he sat up on the bed, slipped out of the short hospital gown, and made a feeble attempt to shove his feet into his shoes. “Damn! I haven’t got any depth perception at all, with this patch on my eye.”

“I’ll do it Dad! Quit griping!” she slipped his shoes on over the hospital socks. She stuffed his socks and jacket into the plastic hospital bag with his name on it.

“Lets go! I’ve got some writing to do before I forget. I had a very productive nap.”

“Aren’t you supposed to rest your eye? After all, they just replaced your old lens with a piece of plastic. That’s got to hurt a little.”

“Not enough to matter. Besides, it’s all covered up. It’s getting all the rest it needs. I don’t need to rest the other one.”

“Whatever!” she turned as Mom waved to her from the door. “They won’t let me bring these in there, so I’ll meet you out front. Are you going to be okay? Are you dizzy at all?”

“No more than usual,” he grinned at her. “Besides, I have to go out the front door in a wheelchair so I can’t sue them later if I walk into a wall or something. Why don’t you bring the car around? Judy can carry my clothes and the pretty nurse here can wheel me out.”

Judy winked at the nurse and shook her head. “I’m used to it,” she was assured.

He stood up and waited while she positioned the chair behind him; then he sat down firmly. “Ouch! What the hell…” he reached into his pocket.

And there it was. The cube. Not his cube; THE cube. He sucked in his breath. He knew Judy couldn’t have slipped it in his pocket as a joke. The cataract surgery protocol had allowed him to keep his pants on the entire time; he only had to give up his shirt.

“Dad? Are you okay?” She spotted the cube. “Why on earth did you bring THAT with you? For good luck? Looks like it didn’t work!” she scolded.

“No…I mean…” he recovered quickly, then grinned at her. “Ya caught me! Don’t tell your mom, okay? She gives me enough trouble about this obsession of mine as it is.” He winked at her. “Please?”

“Okay, Dad. But you owe me big time. You have to go up to the Exploratorium with Les, the kids, and I next weekend. The patch will be off by then, so no excuses accepted.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but okay! I’ll do it!” He absolutely loved the Exploratorium.

§

The ride home was quiet, thankfully. He kept turning the cube over and over in his hands, making sure it wasn’t his own. He knew his own better than this one of course. Because his was the real thing. This one wasn’t. This one was…Oskar’s original. The knockoff.

“Jan, I’ve been thinking. We haven’t been back to England for a while. How would you like to take a trip there this September? I know it’s only a few months away, but I really think we should do it.”

She looked up at him in the rear-view mirror, a surprised look on her face. “I’d love it! Where did that come from? Lately, you’ve only talked about taking a trip to Sweden to visit the places where that…film you love so much was made. What made you change your mind?”

“I dunno. I guess I just remembered the last trip. When we stayed at that nice hotel across the street from Kensington Gardens? And walked around the park every evening when we got back from dinner? Maybe we could get a room there again.”

“I’ll call as soon as we get home! I don’t want to take the chance that you’ll change your mind.”

And of course she won’t mind if we go for a drive through a certain residential neighborhood in north London near Hampstead Garden, he thought to himself. And, since we’re in the neighborhood, we’d have to stop in for a visit. After all, I have a borrowed Rubik’s cube I have to return to its rightful owner…and maybe we could bring our swimsuits.