The Blue Kind

if need be

“Tell me,” says Cory. “No,” I say. “Tell me.” “There’s nothing to tell.” “Alison, just tell me.” “Dammit, Cory, leave me alone.” He stands up and goes to the side window, resting his arm on the wall. He breathes out smoke, and it bounces off the circle window that’s now boarded up again. The smoke gets caught by a draft and flies away. “At least admit there’s something you’re not telling me,” he says. “I don’t want to fight with you,” I say. “Fight about what?” I sigh.“I always lose when I fight with you, okay? So let’s not argue.” “So there is something you’re not telling me.” “Stop it!” “C’mon,” he says, ashing on the floor,“I’ve known you for five hundred years and I can always tell when you have a 94 T h e B l u e K i n d secret. And you”—he points his cocosmoke at me—“are not telling me something.” Ray is looking at us like he’s watching a tennis game. “Go to hell.” “Ray, tell her to tell me.” “I have absolutely no idea what you guys are yelling about.” “Well, that’s a big goddamn surprise coming from you, Ray,” Cory snaps. He figures out his next move, stands in the center of the attic—the one place his head doesn’t touch the ceiling— folds his arms officially,and says,“I’m going to stand in protest.” “No no no, you don’t.”I step in front of him and pull at his folded arms. “I’ll let you stand for a hundred years. I don’t care.You know what happened last time.” “What happened last time?” Ray asks. “Well, I’ll tell you, Ray.” I am really ticked; my voice is shaky and the freezing cold attic isn’t helping. “Cory and I were having this big fight and he stood up—just like he’s doing now, like a soldier at attention—and he wasn’t going to sit back down no matter what. It was the time of great heroes, and Cory was a great warrior back then, disciplined from all the time he served. We were strong people back then, Ray. We weren’t stoned and soft toxies like now. So anyway, I didn’t have Cory’s training, but I had my iron will, and I fought back by standing right next to him, my arms crossed the same way. So we’re out in the woods in our little one-room cottage, no one to disturb us, not eating, seasons changing, the two most stubborn damn people in the world. And seriously, Ray, years go by.Years.” Cory rolls his eyes and looks out the window, but Ray is enjoying the story. I cross my arms with a flourish, smile, and continue. “One day, years later, as the two of us are standing there like a couple dopes, staring straight ahead, 95 Cory starts to slowly turn his head toward me. It’s making this horrible cracking and squeaking noise. So then I start turning my head to look at him, just as slow, with the same creaking noise going on. And I can see Cory is yellow and thin as a skeleton, with cobwebs on his arms and dust all over his mouth. And Cory opens his jaw and croaks—” I glance at Cory as he glares at me. He hates this story. “‘Honey, what were we fighting about?’ I croaked back, just as slow.‘I don’t remember.’ Then Cory fell backward like a log and broke apart in three places; some of him just crumbled—” Cory cuts my story short. “Just tell me what the hell is going on.” End of story I guess. So much for changing the subject. I say,“No. You have to trust me to know what’s better for all of us.” “Why do you know better?” “Because I’m older and I’m not as bad a toxie.” “So it’s something about mugs.” “No.” “Some deal.” “Shut up.” “And if it’s something about a tox, then it’s got to be something about Atom, because he’s the only one you wouldn’t want me dealing with.” I hate arguing with Cory. I take a breath. “We’ve talked about this. There’s no dealing with Atom...