Flora & Ulysses

It was 2:20 a.m.

The grass was heavy with dew. Flora was picking her way through the darkness. She was breathing heavily because she was carrying Mary Ann in her arms, and Mary Ann — for all of her pink cheeks and delicate features and excessive, stupid frilliness — was incredibly heavy.

Talk about stout, thought Flora.

The Criminal Element: “Can one reason with a criminal? This is debatable. But it is true that the rules of nursery school are often in good effect in the criminal world. What do we mean by this? We mean that if the criminal has something you want, then you must have something he wants. Only then is it possible for some kind of ‘discussion’ to begin.”

There was nothing and no one that Flora’s mother loved more than the lamp. Together, Flora and William Spiver would find her mother. They would offer to exchange the little shepherdess for the squirrel. And then all would be well. Or something.

That was Flora’s plan.

But first she had to find William Spiver, and she didn’t think that it would be a good idea to ring Tootie’s doorbell at 2:20 a.m.

“William Spiver?” said Flora.

Here she was, standing in the dark holding an unlit lamp and hoping that a temporarily blind boy would hear her call his name and come help her rescue her squirrel (a squirrel who, for a superhero, sure did seem to need a lot of rescuing).

Things were pretty grim.

“William Spiver?” she said again. “William Spiver.”

And then, without really intending to, she started saying William Spiver’s name over and over, louder and louder.

“WilliamSpiverWilliamSpiverWilliamSpiverWilliamSpiver WILLIAMSPIVERWILLIAMSPIVER.”

There was no way he would be able to hear her, of course. She knew that. But she couldn’t make herself stop. She just stupidly, idiotically, hopefully, kept saying his name.

“Flora Belle?”

“WilliamSpiverWilliamSpiverWilliamSpiver.”

“Flora Belle?”

“WilliamSpiverWilliamSpiverWilliamSpiver.”

“FLORA BELLE!”

And there he was, standing at a darkened window, conjured, apparently, by her need and her desperation. And her words.

William Spiver.

Or at least the shadow of William Spiver.

“Oh,” said Flora, “hello.”

“Yes, hello to you, too,” said William Spiver. “How lovely of you to visit in the middle of the night.”

“There’s been an emergency,” said Flora.

“Right,” said William Spiver. “Just let me put on my bathrobe.”

Flora felt a familiar prick of irritation. “It’s an emergency, William Spiver. There’s no time to waste. Forget about your bathrobe.”

“I’ll just put on my bathrobe,” said William Spiver as if she hadn’t said anything at all, “and I’ll be right there. Wherever there is. It is shockingly difficult to locate even the most obvious things when one is temporarily blind. The world is very hard to navigate when you can’t see.

“Although to be perfectly frank, I had trouble navigating the world even before the advent of the blindness. I’ve never been what you would call coordinated or spatially intelligent. It’s not even that I bump into things. It’s more that things leap out of nowhere and bump into me. My mother says that this is because I live in my head as opposed to living in the world. But I ask you: Don’t we all live in our heads? Where else could we possibly exist? Our brains are the universe. Don’t you think that’s true? Flora Belle?”

“I said it’s an emergency!”

“Well, then, I’ll just put on my bathrobe, and we’ll sort it all out.”

Flora put Mary Ann down on the ground. She looked around wildly in the darkness. What was she looking for? She didn’t know. Maybe a stick that she could use to hit William Spiver over the head.

“Flora Belle?”

“Ulysses is gone!” she screamed. “My mother kidnapped him. I think my mother is possessed. I think she might hurt him.”

Do not cry, she told herself. Do not cry. Do not hope. Do not cry. Just observe.

“Shhh,” said William Spiver. “It’s okay, Flora Belle. I’ll help you. We’ll find him.”

And then the light in William Spiver’s room came on, and Tootie said, “What in the world are you doing, William?”

“Looking for my bathrobe.”

TOOTIE TO THE RESCUE!

The words appeared above Tootie’s head in a neon kind of brightness.

“Tootie,” shouted Flora, “it’s an emergency! My mother has kidnapped the squirrel.”

“Flora?” said Tootie. She stuck her head out the window. “Why do you have that awful lamp?”

“It’s complicated,” said Flora.

“Again with the lamp?” said William Spiver. “What in the world is the meaning of the lamp?”

“My mother loves the lamp,” said Flora. “I’m holding it hostage.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” said Tootie.

“That’s right,” said Flora. “It’s an emergency.”

“I’ll just get my purse,” said Tootie.