Chapter 4

Springtime

"These are lovely," she said, holding the flowers in the plastic cup up to her nose. "What are they?"

"I think they're anemones," Oskar replied. "I saw them in the park along the path, and thought you'd like them. They're a sign that Spring is coming."

"They're beautiful. Thank you." Eli smiled at him. "Look at the pretty little green parts in the middle. Do you think the petals are blue or purple?"

"I'm not sure, but . . . I'd say probably more purple."

El nodded her head. "I think you're right. I love their color." She carefully put the vase on the table next to her egg, then turned to look at Oskar. He sat cross-legged on the floor, building . . . what?

"What is all of that?"

"These? They're legos. You've never heard of legos?"

"No. What are they?"

Oskar looked at her incredulously. "What are they? You really have been living under a rock. They're only the greatest toy ever invented!"

Eli sat down next to him and begin studying the little bricks. "These are cool," she said, turning one in her hand to admire its bright, shiny color.

"You stack 'em together. You can build just about anything with them," he explained.

Fascinated, Eli poked her finger around in the pile and picked one up. "What's this one for?"

"That's a roof piece. And this is a window."

"What are you making?" Eli asked.

"It's a house. Our house. Or I mean, what our house could maybe be like, someday."

Eli smiled and watched for a minute as Oskar worked on building the outer walls. "Can I help?"

"Sure. Make sure you overlap the bricks. It'll make the walls stronger. And leave some spaces for the doors."

They worked together in silence for awhile, clicking the little bricks into place. Then Oskar spoke up.

"Eli, I've been thinking a lot lately. I went to the library again and got some books about architecture. I'm thinking I might want to build houses when I grow up. I've always loved building stuff."

"Really?" Eli replied. "I didn't know that. What would you put in our house?"

"Well, first of all, a decent place for you to sleep in the basement. With a heated bed or something. I mean, that tub isn't very comfortable.

"And then . . . I don't know, a room to play in, and maybe an indoor pool? So we could go swimming any time we wanted. And if we lived out in the country, it'd be nice to have some horses, I think. So we'd need a stable out back. We'll put that right here," he explained, pointing to a place on one side of the little house that was taking shape in front of them. Then he looked at her and said, "Horses aren't afraid of you like cats, are they?"

"No . . . I've never had a problem with horses. I think having some horses to ride would be a great idea."

"Also, I think our house ought to have some sort of turret or tower that sticks way up. With a telescope. So we could go out at night and look at the stars."

"Oh—I'd really like that, Oskar. That would be perfect."

"I got some things from the library for you, too," Oskar said brightly. He got up, pulled some books out of his backpack, and handed them to her.

"What are they?"

"Well, one's a book about the Rubik's Cube. How it works; how to solve it. And the other's a book about Fabergé eggs. I saw it on the shelf and it reminded me of your egg, so I thought maybe you'd like to look at it."

Eli began flipping through the book about the Cube with a look of intense interest. Oskar said, "I read a little bit of it before the library closed. It says that the Cube is a 'permutation' puzzle—whatever that means—and that there are 43 quintillion 'permutations.' Do you know how much a quintillion is? I sure don't. It talks about these different 'algorithms' that people have come up with to try and solve the puzzle. Also, almost no one can solve more than one or two sides without taking it apart and putting it back together again the right way.

"All of which means that you, Eli, are some sort of mathematical genius for figuring it out so easily." He looked at her earnestly. "Seriously."

Eli paused and looked up at him. "Well, I—"

"You could . . . probably do all kinds of higher math. Algebra, trigonometry. All that stuff. If you wanted to."

"Really?" Eli looked intrigued.

"Yup. And you know what else? You need to know lots of math for architecture, from what I've read. You've got to know all kinds of things about load bearing, weight distribution, design loads, structural materials, that kind of stuff. If I could learn how to do the drawing, and you helped with the math, we could make a great team. We might even be able to design some really big buildings."

"Wouldn't we have to go to school? I mean, college?"

"Well, yeah. But a lot of people get college degrees through the mail. You don't even need to actually go to the school. In fact, I was thinking of checking that out so maybe I could finish primary school."

Eli smiled happily. "I think you should. Because you're really smart, Oskar. If you wanted to be an architect someday, I'm sure you could. Maybe we'd have to change your name, though. Because of the pool." She grew serious.

"And Oskar, as much as I'd love to live in one place all of my life with you, I don't know if that will ever be possible. Because . . . well, you know what I have to do. And sometimes that means that I have to move around."

Oskar turned to look directly at her. "Well, maybe . . . maybe you won't have to be the way you are, forever, like you think. Maybe something will change."

Eli gave him a wistful smile. "I'd love to believe that, Oskar. But so far, I've never seen anything that made any difference. I think I'm sort of stuck the way I am."

"I've been thinking about that," Oskar replied. "A lot. Actually, not just thinking. Praying."

Eli opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Looked at him a long time. "Praying?"

"Uh huh," said Oskar in a small, uncertain voice. "Praying that you'll be cured. That you could just be normal again."

Eli suddenly felt as though she might cry. He's so . . . unbelievably kind, she thought. There was an uncomfortable pause. She looked down at the legos spread around them, then said, "I don't think that'll work, Oskar."

"Why not? All you need is faith. Look." Oskar opened his backpack again and withdrew a small, thick Bible. "I got this for free," he remarked happily. "They said I could have it."

He had torn some notepaper into small strips to use as bookmarks. He thumbed through to one of them, then held the Bible up closer so he could read the print.

"Here. Listen to this." Oskar continued. "Jesus said to them in reply, 'Have faith in God. Amen, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it shall be done for him.'"

Oskar flipped to another spot. "Wait a minute," he said excitedly, tracing his finger down the page. "Oh yeah. Here it is. A woman suffering hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the tassel on his cloak. She said to herself, 'If only I can touch his cloak, I shall be cured.' Jesus turned around and saw her, and said, 'Courage, daughter! Your faith has saved you.' And from that hour the woman was cured."

Eli bit her lower lip, and tried to keep the tears at bay. "Oskar. I don't think I'm going to be meeting Jesus anytime soon. And did you read the parts in there that talk about me?"

Oskar looked at her, nonplussed. "About you?"

"Yes. Here, let me see it."

He hesitantly handed the book to her.

She flipped through to the front. "You need to read the Old Testament to find out about me. Here. First, the basics—Exodus. 'Thou shall not kill.' And then, let's see . . . in Job somewhere . . . ." she flipped some more. "Right . . . here. 'There are those who are rebels against the light; they know not its ways; they abide not in its paths. When there is no light the murderer rises, to kill the poor and needy. . . ."

Her voice, which had been strident, began to tremble, then break, as she continued. "By day they shut themselves in; none of them know the light, for daylight they regard as— as darkness. . . . Their portion in the land is accursed, and . . . wic . . . wicked--wickedness is splintered like wood."

She dropped the bible down a bit and stared at Oskar with the tears running down her face. "Oh. There's one more. This one's back in Revelations." She sniffed, fiercely wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, then with harsh, quick movements, flipped to the end. "This one sort of . . . caps it all off."

"But as for cowards, the unfaithful, the depraved, murderers, the unchaste, sorcerers, idol-worshipers, and deceivers of every sort, their lot is in the burning pool of fire and sulfur, which is the second death."

She tossed the Bible down. It landed, sprawled open, upside down on top of the lego house, breaking it. "That's what's in store for me, Oskar." She put her head down into her hands and began to sob uncontrollably.

Oskar felt as if he had received a sharp slap in the face. He stared at Eli with a look of shocked sadness; then he, too began to cry. He picked up the Bible and laid it aside; then with blurred, teary vision, he made a feeble, distracted effort to fix their house. His fingers fumbled unsuccessfully with the legos. Finally--because he could think of nothing else to say, but wanted to say something, anything—he asked, "How do you . . . know so much about the Bible?"

Eli continued to cry. Finally she sighed deeply, wiped her eyes with her shirt, and got up. She went over to the table with her old toys and opened a wooden box. She withdrew a small, silver crucifix and returned to Oskar. She sat beside him and put it into his hands.

"I know a lot about the Bible, Oskar. Because once I believed in all of the things that you said. I wanted to have faith. I tried to memorize as much of the Bible as I could . . . actually, it's how I learned to read. And I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. But nothing ever happened.

"So eventually I stopped praying. Because I couldn't keep trying to talk to God while I kept having to . . . kill people. Week after week. Year after year. When I felt like I was talking to a wall. I just couldn't."

"But Eli, God must know what's in your heart. He must know that you don't want to hurt anyone."

"Maybe," Eli replied. "But Jesus also said that a tree is known by its fruit. What is my fruit, Oskar? Do you want some of it?"

Oskar closed his eyes and looked down at his lap. "So that's it, then," he said dejectedly. "There is no hope for—for any of this." He gestured at the crumbled little house in front of them. Then looked up at her. "For us. Because I don't know what else I can do to help you, Eli, besides praying."

Eli's countenance softened and her voice lost its bitterness. She put her arms around him and drew him close to her. "Oskar, I'm not saying that –that we have no future. You have given me so much love and happiness since we met. Moments of joy so pure that I cry just to think of them. The nights I have spent holding you close to me, just enjoying being near you, and knowing that of all the people in the world, this one person—my Oskar—chose to love me, even though you know what I am. And I know that somehow, I have been blessed by God to have you. That maybe you are some sort of a . . . a savior for me.

"So please, please, don't be upset with me. Just understand that maybe I don't feel as strongly about God changing me as you do. It doesn't mean that you can't keep believing, if you want. And you keep that," she said, squeezing his hand that held the crucifix, "if you find it helps you. I'll do whatever I can to give you a normal life. Go to school, get through college somehow, help build a house for us. Maybe somehow, with your help, I could be more than I realize."

Eli offered Oskar her nightgown to wipe his nose. He smiled gratefully through his tears and accepted her offer. They hugged each other; then Eli took his head into her hands and kissed him on the forehead. "Thank you for praying for me."

"I love you, Eli."

Oskar glanced at his watch. "It's almost dawn. Can we sleep together in the tub again tonight? Maybe with a couple extra blankets in the bottom?"

Eli smiled, then poked him in the ribs. "Of course. Just promise me that you won't snore." And taking his hand, she led him back to the bathroom.

* * *

He held her closely against his chest. He listened as her breathing slowed and that strange, low rumbling began. He felt her heartbeat ebb until it was almost not beating at all. He tucked a lock of her hair up behind her ear; kissed her there.

He tried to imagine them working in some office somewhere, dressed like grownups. Sitting at a desk together; him drawing a house, her doing some calculations.

Couldn't.