me. I feel safer behind it.
I make a bed with the various blankets scattered around and lie on it with my back propped up against the fence. The rollout carpets provide some softness and warmth against the wood. I zip my jacket up all the way. Outside it’s silent and dark except for the hum of the highway. It’s ominous. I learned ominous from Man from Mundania. Or was it Heaven Cent?
I don’t have those two books anymore. Mom made me return them. That was bad. Anthony, where did you get these? And me not knowing what to say. Tell me, Anthony, where? And me telling her I stole them. And then all the yelling and screaming. I couldn’t take it. So to avoid Mom’s advance I ran outside to the backyard, circling the pool. And she was red and shaking. Jack, do something about this, would you? Just do something! But Dad had never gotten involved before that, so I didn’t expect him to actually reach for me as I circled by. He didn’t cuff me that hard but my nose opened up because I get nose bleeds so easily and blood sprayed all over my shirt and splattered and dripped all over the concrete patio. And I looked up at Dad with eyes as shocked as his as I cupped my hand under my nose, the blood blossoming and pooling in my palm. And Dad stood there stunned, his mouth hanging open, not knowing what to say. He had never once spanked me before that, and I knew by his eyes that this would be the last time. But even after that Mom still made me take the books back to the store. And my ears were so hot and I just wanted to run away. And the manager looked so serious while writing my name and address on a little card, saying if I ever did anything like that again she would report me to the police.
I tried to explain to Mom that I’d read all the other Xanth books so many times and none of the libraries had those two. And I couldn’t buy them because I didn’t even have pocket money anymore. I just wanted to read them. She said that was no excuse. And after that Mom even took away my books because that was the ultimate punishment. But that didn’t last long because she felt bad and she likes to see me read.
The stars come out. I try to imagine which ones exist and which don’t because some stars can be gone but you still see them because the speed of light is super slow compared to how far away they are. So some of the stars I see aren’t even there anymore. It’s like somebody filmed the sky thousands or millions of years ago and now I’m watching it. Like looking into a crystal ball except into the past, not the future.
I get nervous thinking about what will happen tomorrow so I take out my flashlight and The Source of Magic. I’ve read it before. But I know it will make me feel better. And it does. Because soon I’m no longer Anthony in Mundania. I’m Bink in Xanth.
I read half the book. It’s getting cold. I put the book down and throw the rest of the blankets over me and lie flat on my back. I stare up at the sky through the tree. The branches look scary without their leaves. Ominous. But at least there’s no yelling here. No arguments. No punishments. Just me and the tree and the stars. The stars from now and the stars from before.
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5. Michael Phelps also started swimming at age seven as a backstroker, although in his case it was because he was afraid to put his face in the water. Return to text
6. Sherry and Jack also diverge ideologically in other areas. To take one exchange:
Jack: Nothing wrong with having a relationship with that spiritual entity up there.
Sherry: There is no spiritual entity up there.
Jack: There is a universal knowledge out there you have to plug into time to time.
Sherry: I don’t believe in that nonsense. Return to text
4.
A Nervous Condition
Oh the nerves, the nerves; the mysteries of this machine called Man!
Oh the little that unhinges it: poor creatures that we are!
—Charles Dickens
F-f-f-feel like-a l-l-l-lightnin’ hit my b-b-brains . . .
—Willie Dixon, “Nervous”
One morning after Anthony had entered junior high, he and his brother Derek were on the couch watching Saturday cartoons. His mother walked into the den and right away noticed something out of the ordinary. Anthony’s eyes were rapidly blinking. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen this. On occasion it had happened before, but only for a few seconds. Since he’d recently been prescribed glasses, she’d always assumed it was an ophthalmological issue related to his nearsightedness. This time, however, it seemed more pronounced and longer lasting. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” she asked. He knew something was off but didn’t know what. Not wanting to interrupt the cartoon, he shrugged it off. The blinking soon passed, and they both forgot the incident.
A few weeks later, Sherry received a call from the pool. They told her to come immediately.
It happens toward the end of swim practice. That itchy feeling around my eye. It’s never happened before during practice. And this time, the tense feeling spreads downward. I can’t help but move my jaw as I wait on the wall. When I push off it stops. But when we get to the other wall it starts up again. Moving my jaw relieves the pressure. Like scratching an itch.
But this itch doesn’t go away. The guys in my lane are looking at me funny. They can’t see the blinking because of my mirrored goggles, but they can see my jaw moving side to side. The itch gets stronger. Now it’s happening when I’m swimming. Just before the turn in the shallow side, my head jerks down during my side breath. Instead of gulping air, I swallow water.
I stop at the wall, coughing, and scoot toward the lane line to make space for their flip turns. When I look up I see the coach walking toward me. She’s about to yell at me for stopping during a set. Then I see her expression change from mad to confused to worried. It’s hard to keep my eyes focused on her because they keep blinking and my head is twitching.
When Mom shows up fifteen minutes later, I’m still standing in the shallow end. I didn’t get out of the pool. I would have had to take my goggles off and they would see my blinking. The others have already finished the workout. Some are staring at me from the pool deck and saying things to each other. Only me and three older girls are still in the water. One is hugging me and I’m crying and I don’t want to cry and it’s embarrassing but I can’t help it. And I can’t help my head from jerking. What’s wrong with me? I don’t know what’s happening.
And then Mom rushes over and lifts me up out of the pool and she’s saying, “What’s wrong, Anthony? What’s wrong, Anthony?” and she looks scared, really scared.
Tourette’s syndrome is a neurological disorder typically first noticed in childhood, characterized by repeated involuntary or semivoluntary body movements and vocalizations. In 1972 it was believed that only one hundred people in all of the US had Tourette’s. Now it’s believed that one in every hundred Americans have Tourette’s, with two hundred thousand having the most severe symptoms. In milder forms, Tourette’s involves rapid blinking, throat clearing, and twitching. More rare symptoms include automatically repeating the words
