Between The Doors. Wes Peters

David Tollson would ask, a big grin on his face. Firecrackers were illegal in New Jersey, so Andrew supposed this was his family’s best kept secret. He felt something ungraspable now thinking about it. If he were older or gone to school more he might have known it as nostalgia, but for now he decided no word could truly describe the pangs inside. He could smell the summer air, feel the grin on his own face as his father had lit the firecracker.

      “Nick?” he said, his eyes still glued to the street.

      “Yes?” came the reply beside him.

      “Do you miss home?”

      “Yeah.” Nick said. He paused for a moment. “Sunsetville’s good and all, but I’m no city-boy. If you think the sky is clear here, you should see down south of the city in the farmin’ lands. There you can you see other worlds as clear as the sun.”

      With that Nick got up. “May I have your leave sir? I’m tired.”

      Andrew smiled. “Go ahead, Nick. You have my leave.” Nick bowed, and walked through the front door. Andrew sat a little while longer, admiring the stars, soaking in the stillness of the night.

      chapter three

      in the morning

      Andrew awoke to brilliant streaks of sunlight. He looked about him in confusion. Long splashes of yellow and gold illuminated the pale blue walls around him. The boy remembered all of the previous day’s events.

      Thoughts of his mother, his home, and his world that he left behind all raced through his mind. Andrew could hardly believe it all happened, and that it had all happened so fast. His father always reminded him that things that happen quickly are either beautiful, or beautifully dangerous. Andrew supposed this whole experience was one or the other; but either way it was beautiful, and by God it was beautiful. Dreams of independence danced about the boy’s head, intoxicating him with wonder. Taking in a breath of the fresh spring breeze that rustled past the shades, the boy stood up.

      He heard Nick’s snores beside him and nearly jumped. Nick lay upon his bed, the sheets thrown carelessly over his small chest. His brown hair curled loosely over his neck and his eyes. Andrew laughed as he saw the hair over his eyes jump up with each snore, and then softly fall back over his eyes. Andrew stared at his friend for a moment, and then remarked:

      “I think I’ll go back to sleep.” He lay down on the couch, his hands behind his head. Within a minute his snores joined Nick’s.

      I

      The two boys made their way down to breakfast an hour later, following the smell in a way only young boys can. They headed down the narrow wooden staircase and entered the small kitchen area to find the source of the scent: Aunt Margaret’s bacon and eggs steaming on the metal stove. Andrew’s mouth watered at the sight of the meal. This beat the hell out of breakfast back home, which usually consisted of Raisin Bran and warm pulpy orange juice.

      The orange juice here was warm, but Andrew didn’t mind; he and Nick wolfed down their meals with an unnatural speed. Margaret came back into the kitchen to find their plates empty and both boys leaning back in their chairs, and she sighed. “You boys are somethin’ else,” she said.

      Nick had no work or chores to do, so the two decided to go play around in town. A day without school always looked good to Andrew, and today he didn’t even have to play truant. There’s no such thing as hooky if you’re in a universe without school, so the boy reasoned his hands were clean. Not even Aunt Margaret’s warning as they walked down the stoop could diminish Andrew’s wonder.

      “Now you boys be careful,” she said, wiping her greasy hands on a kitchen towel. Both boys turned to face her.

      “Aw, what’s to worry ‘bout, Auntie?” Nick asked. He was practically dancing at the prospect of hanging out with his new friend. “Ye know I’ve been up, under, and around the town more times than I can count.” He took a look at his fingers as if to prove the fact.

      “I know ye have, but still somethin’ seems the matter around Sunsetville recently.” She lifted her eyes, surveying the street she lived on. “A funny smell, you could say. And it’s not just the sewers giving up that smell, if you know it. But listen here boys, stay out of the sewers. Yer both too young to be down there in the dark.”

      “Yes’m,” both boys said in unison. Andrew looked strangely at Nick. He hasn’t told her he works down there some days, he realized. Looks like I’m not the only one keeping secrets from my family. And then he thought, maybe everyone does.

      “Good,” Aunt Margaret said, her eyes still on the street. The neighborhood was out and about at this hour, she knew, and yet things were calm and quiet. “Now scram you too, and don’t let me catch ye till sunset! But don’t ye be late neither!” And the boys set off, chasing each other down the street through the hot morning air.

      “Boys’ll be boys,” said Aunt Margaret. But there was something about that Andrew boy… she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Sure, there was something odd about him. Maybe it was the way he spoke. Margaret had a different way of talking than most of the city folk around Sunsetville, but she’d never heard anyone talk the way he did. Where exactly did the boy say he was from? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

      II

      Andrew would remember that morning for the rest of his life. He wasn’t sure why; he was too young to really understand the beauty and wonder that filled his soul and emblazoned his spirit. Children have a way loving what’s new and fresh, embracing the day with wonder and naiveté. Andrew was too young to grasp this, however; he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

      The boys sprinted to the center of the town, filled with the hustle-and-bustle of merchants, workers, and tourists. Strange people moved here and there around the boys, who jumped around the crates and boxes around the market. Occasionally a merchant would scold them for jumping on his stuff and the two boys would scurry away from the boxes, hiding behind some more. They chased a furry brown dog around the town square for an hour, and the dog chased them around for an hour more. At one point Andrew, not looking where he was going, ran straight into a man carrying several boxes. Andrew spun away from the man, who tottered and wavered, nearly dropping the boxes. The man was about to regain his balance when Nick, sprinting from the yipping dog, tripped and took out the man’s legs, who cried out in dismay as he collapsed onto the pavement. His boxes rained down around Nick and him, the former looking embarrassed and little dazed. Then the dog leapt into the arms of the man and began licking his face, who laughed uncontrollably at the rambunctious mongrel’s antics.

      Exhausted from the morning’s escapades, Andrew collapsed upon the scaffolding of a tower in the center of town. The scaffolding faced the Time-Table Clock Tower. Andrew sat about five feet off the ground, dangling his feet over the edge, bathing in the morning sunshine. Behind him the clock face on the Time-Table ticked away. Andrew paid it no attention. He was lost in pure ecstasy, engulfed in one of those rare moments of childhood when independence and a lack of responsibility coincide perfectly. An adult would’ve felt the pressures of the day beating around his skull; a child would normally grow bored of sitting around. In that moment of time Andrew lived forever. The people below hustled and cried out, but they could not disturb the boy. They moved in fast-forward; he didn’t move at all. Time had stopped for Andrew Tollson. He felt free; free of responsibility, free of worry, free of doubt.

      Nick napped below in the shade of the wall. Andrew thought he looked comfortable in the grass, but his own mind was too alive to sleep. In his head he saw visions of glory and freedom in this world. The boy gazed beyond the walls of Sunsetville. He saw tall castles on steep green hillsides, with hordes of horsed men riding across a bridge over a sparkling blue moat around the courtyard. He saw country people out in the fields, working for themselves and their family. He saw great ships upon vast blue oceans, setting out to discover new land, new people, new worlds. He saw freedom and independence, and he saw a beauty in his mind and felt it in his soul. It was a fleeting beauty, the kind that