California Fire And Life

114

Natalie tarns on the bedside lamp.

"Go to sleep," she says to Michael.

"I can't."

He's crying again.

"Why not?" Natalie asks.

"Ghosts."

"They're not ghosts, they're shadows."

But they are scary, Natalie admits. The branches of the big eucalyptus tree outside the window are blowing in the wind, making ghostlike arms and heads on the bedroom wall.

"I'm scared," Michael says.

"Of what?"

"Fire," Michael says. "Like burned up Mommy."

"This house won't catch on fire."

"How do you know?"

I don't know, Natalie thinks. She's scared, too.

She has bad dreams.

Where there's fire everywhere.

And Mommy's asleep and won't wake up.

"There won't be a fire," she says, "because I am the princess and that's my command."

"Who can I be?" Michael asks.

"The princess's little brother."

Michael whines, "Can't I be something else, too?"

"Like a wizard?"

"What's that?"

"Like a magician," Natalie says. "Only better."

"Can I make things disappear?"

"Yes."

"Like ghosts?"

"Yes," Natalie says. "Now go to sleep."

"Leave the light on."

She leaves the light on.

And lies awake and watches the shadows move.