Flora & Ulysses

It’s the truth,” Flora said. “You told Pop to kill Ulysses.”

Having denounced her mother, Flora now turned her attention to William Spiver and his betrayal.

“What are you even doing here, William Spiver? Why are you in the kitchen? With my mother?”

“He’s assisting me with my novel.”

William Spiver blushed a bright and otherworldly red. “I’m delighted that you find me of some assistance, Mrs. Buckman,” he said. He took the Pitzer Pop out of his mouth and bowed in the direction of Flora’s mother. “I must admit that I have always had a certain facility with words. And I am terribly fond of the novel form. Though my interests lie less in the area of romance and more in the speculative nature of things. Science fiction, if you will. Fact blended with fantasy, an extended meditation on the nature of the universe. Quarks, dwarf stars, black holes, and the like. Do you know, for instance, that the universe is expanding as we speak?”

Only Ulysses responded to this question. The squirrel shook his head vigorously, obviously amazed.

William Spiver pushed his dark glasses up higher on his nose. He took a deep breath. “Speaking of expansion, did you know that there are now something like ninety billion galaxies in the universe? In such a universe, it seems ridiculous and foolhardy to attempt a creation of one’s own, but still, I persevere. I persevere.”

“You didn’t answer my question, William Spiver,” said Flora.

“Let me try again,” he said.

“No,” said Flora. “You’re a traitor. And you” — she wheeled and pointed at her mother — “are an arch-nemesis, a true villain.”

Flora’s mother crossed her arms. She said, “I’m someone who wants what’s best for you. If that makes me a villain, fine.”

Flora took a deep breath. “I’m moving in with Pop,” she said.

“What?” said her mother.

“Really?” said her father.

“Your father,” said her mother, “doesn’t know how to take care of himself, much less someone else.”

“At least he doesn’t wish he had a lamp for a daughter,” said Flora.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” said William Spiver.

“I want to live with Pop,” said Flora.

“Really?” said her father again.

“Go right ahead,” said her mother. “It would certainly make my life easier.”

Make my life easier.

Those four words (so small, so simple, so ordinary) came flying at Flora like enormous slabs of stone. She actually felt herself tip sideways as they hit her. She put up a hand and held on to Ulysses. She used the squirrel to steady herself.

“Do not hope,” she whispered. But she wasn’t sure what it was that she wasn’t hoping for.

All she knew was that she was a cynic, and her heart hurt. Cynics’ hearts weren’t supposed to hurt.

William Spiver pushed back his chair. He stood. “Mrs. Buckman,” he said, “perhaps you would like to retract those last words? They seem unnecessarily harsh.”

Flora’s mother said nothing.

William Spiver remained standing. “Okay, then,” he said. “I will speak. I will attempt, yet again, to make myself clear.” He paused. “The only reason I am here, Flora Belle, is that I came looking for you. You were gone a long time and I missed you, and I wondered if you had returned and I came to find you.”

Flora closed her eyes. She saw nothing but darkness. And into this darkness slowly swam the other Dr. Meescham’s giant squid, moving sadly along, flailing its eight lonely and enormous arms.

I came to find you.

What was it with William Spiver and the words he said to her? Why did they make her heart squinch up?

“Seal blubber,” said Flora.

“I beg your pardon?” said William Spiver.

Ulysses gently pushed against Flora’s hand.

And then the squirrel leaped away from her.

“Oh, no,” said Flora’s mother. “No. Not that. No, no . . .”

Ulysses flew over Phyllis Buckman’s head. He went high and then higher still.

“Yes,” said Flora. “Yes.”