The Crossroads

“So what do you want to do today, sweetie?”

On Monday morning, Judy and Zack ate cereal in the breakfast nook. His father had left for the train station and the commute to his law firm in New York City long before either one of them was awake. It was their first morning alone together in the big house. They were sticking to cold breakfast foods. Judy had almost started another fire using aluminum foil in the microwave.

“Nothing,” Zack said, slurping his cereal. “Probably just, you know, hang out with Davy.”

“Who’s Davy?”

“This guy I met.”

“Really? Does he live around here?”

“Yep. Right across the highway. On the farm.”

“Have fun, but be careful, okay?”

“We will.”

Judy tried to remember all the things her mother used to say when she went outside to play.

“Look both ways if you cross the street. Don’t run around with scissors. And…”

“I won’t take any candy from strangers.”

“Good. I knew I forgot one.”

“So Judy’s your stepmother, hunh?” Davy asked while Zack hammered a two-by-four into the tree.

They had decided to go ahead and build a tree house. Zack had found a few boards piled up in the garage—wood left over from when the house was built.

“Yeah,” Zack said, “she’s kind of new at it and all. But she’s not wicked or anything. Not like the stepmothers in Disney cartoons.”

“Well, that’s good,” Davy said. “Where’s your real mom?”

“Dead.”

“Sorry, pardner. I didn’t know. I just figured your folks got divorced or what have you.”

“She had cancer. Smoked too many cigarettes.”

“Dang coffin nails. Reckon you miss her, hunh?”

“I guess,” Zack said, but then he realized that maybe he could tell Davy the truth. “Well, actually, I don’t really miss her all that much.”

“Is that so?”

Zack shrugged. “My mother never really liked me.”

“I see.”

“She used to say I ruined her life.”

“Dang.”

“That’s why she always wanted to run away from home. Sometimes she would, too. She’d rent a room in a hotel and disappear for a couple days. And when she was home? She’d stay in bed until three or four in the afternoon. I’d come home from school and she’d still be sleeping. If I woke her up, she’d just tell me to leave her alone and light another cigarette because I was driving her crazy.”

“Sounds like a dern sad lady.”

“I guess. I didn’t mean to mess her up like I did.”

“Zack?”

“Yeah?”

“I ain’t no Seigfried Freud, but I don’t reckon you’re the one what messed her up.”

“No?”

“No, sir. I reckon she got that way long before you came along. You got enough nails there, pardner?”

“Yep.” Zack stuck a nail in his mouth and held it between his lips, just like he had seen a carpenter do on TV once. He was glad he’d told Davy the truth. It felt good to finally have a friend, somebody he could actually talk with.

“Ladder’s lookin’ galdern good,” Davy said.

“Unh-hunh.”

“I figure we oughta work our way up to that crook there,” Davy said, placing his hands on his hips and studying the tree. “Then we should start laying in some floorboards.”

“Unh-hunh,” Zack said, concentrating on his hammering. “We’ll need more wood.”

“My pops said we could take all we need from out behind the barn.”

“Cool!”

“Uh-oh,” Davy said. “Cheese it. Looks like we got company.”

Zack saw a big black Cadillac pull off the highway.

“It’s her!”

“Who?”

“The old lady!” Zack whispered. “The Wicked Witch I told you about.”

Zipper grumbled softly.

“Quick!” said Davy. “Over there! We can hide behind them sticker bushes and spy on her! We’ll be like Davy Crockett scoutin’ out the Injuns!”

“Okay,” Zack said.

Hanging out with Davy was fun.

Even when it was sort of scary, it was still fun.