Flora & Ulysses

A squirrel flies in,” said Dr. Meescham. “This I did not expect at all. It is what I love about life, that things happen which I do not expect. When I was a girl in Blundermeecen, we left the window open for this very reason, even in the winter. We did it because we believed something wonderful might make its way to us through the open window. Did wonderful things find us? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. But tonight it has happened! Something wonderful!” Dr. Meescham clapped her hands. “A window has been left open. A squirrel flies in the window. The heart of an old woman rejoices!”

Ulysses’s heart rejoiced, too. He wasn’t lost anymore. Dr. Meescham would help him find Flora.

Also, Dr. Meescham might make him a jelly sandwich.

“Imagine,” said Dr. Meescham. “Imagine if I had been sleeping, what I would have missed. But then, always and forever, I have been an insomniac. You know what this is? Insomnia?”

Ulysses shook his head.

“It means I do not sleep. When I was a girl in Blundermeecen, I did not sleep. Who knows why? It could be some existential terror related to the trolls. Or it could be simply because I do not sleep. Sometimes there are no reasons. Often, most of the time, there are no reasons. The world cannot be explained. But I talk too much. I digress. I need to say to you: Why are you here? And where is your Flora Belle?”

Ulysses looked at Dr. Meescham.

He made his eyes very big.

If only there were some way to tell her everything that had happened: Flora’s mother saying that life would be easier without her, the universe expanding, William Spiver’s banishment, Flora’s homesickness, the writing of his poem, the typing of the untrue words, the stone squirrel, the sack, the woods, the shovel . . .

The squirrel was overwhelmed by everything there was to say and his inability to say it.

He looked down at his front paws.

He looked back up at Dr. Meescham.

“Ah,” she said, “there is too much to say. You do not know where to begin.”

Ulysses nodded.

“Perhaps it would be good to begin with a little snack?”

Ulysses nodded again.

“When the other Dr. Meescham was alive and I could not sleep, do you know what he would do for me? This man would put on his slippers and he would go out into the kitchen and he would fix for me sardines on crackers. You know sardines?”

Ulysses shook his head.

“Little fishes in a can. He would put these little fishes onto crackers for me, and then I would hear him coming back down the hallway, carrying the sardines and humming, returning to me.” Dr. Meescham sighed. “Such tenderness. To have someone get out of bed and bring you little fishes and sit with you as you eat them in the dark of night. To hum to you. This is love.”

Dr. Meescham wiped at her eyes. She smiled at Ulysses. “So,” she said, “I will make for you what my beloved made for me: sardines on crackers. Does this seem like a good thing?”

Ulysses nodded. It seemed like a very good thing.

“We will eat, because this is important, to eat. And then, even though it is the middle of the night, we will go and knock on the door of Mr. George Buckman. And he will open the door to us because he is capacious of heart. And then George Buckman and I will figure out together why you are here and where our Flora Belle is.”

Ulysses nodded.

Dr. Meescham went into the kitchen, and the squirrel sat on the windowsill and looked out into the dark world.

Flora was out there somewhere.

He would find her. She would find him. They would find each other. And then he would write her another poem. This one would be about little fishes and humming in the dark of the night.