“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” The kids are staring at me while they strip their tennis shoes off and toss them into a basket full of hockey sticks. Rena boots the dog out the back door and slams it. The girl says: “Don’t kick Tasha, Mom!” Rena says: “I didn’t kick Tasha. I nudged her.” The boy is eyeing me funny like I might be one of those dangerous compadres he’s heard about from his father’s mysterious past. “Did Dad come out of his room yet, Mom?” he says as he heads straight for the refrigerator, swings the door open, and stares at the orange juice. Rena doesn’t answer him. She walks directly to me and stops, inches away from my face. I can feel her breath on my chest. She puts her hands on her hips and looks right into me. There’s no hope in her face or anger or even fear. She just wants to hear what she already knows. She wants to hear me say it. “And?” she says. “Any news?”

“He said to tell you that one day he will reemerge. He will come back into the light of day.” She drops her hands from her hips and turns to her daughter as though she hasn’t even heard me. She smiles.

“How’s my gorgeous girl?” she says, and sinks to her knees, arms outstretched to take the girl in. The boy slams the refrigerator door and doesn’t move. His back is to me. He stays like that.

Great Dream of Heaven

GREAT DREAM OF HEAVEN