If you'd asked her years later, that's the day Nora would have told you that everything changed with Willy: that day at the caramel lake, where Willy had taken the trouble to explain a part of himself to her. In later years, she'd call it BH, and AH, short for 'Before Hospital' and 'After Hospital', or, as she liked to say, 'bah' and 'ah', because AH had an 'a' in it, and if one put the 'a' from that in BH one got 'bah', and that rhymed with 'ah', and after you'd hung around Willy Wonka for long enough, you started thinking the way he did, and doing that sort of thing, or you lost your mind. But that was later, and on the day itself, it was just a day.
Later that day, Charlie bustled into the house at exactly the time Nora expected him to, plopped his backpack on the floor beside the dinner table, and headed to the refrigerator for some milk. She turned from the glass she was polishing.
"Did you have a nice walk with Willy?"
"Yup."
"Did any one bother you?"
"Nope."
"How was school?"
"It was fine, mum. Is this all the milk we have?"
"There's another bottle behind the orange juice." Nora heard the words she was saying as if from a private echo chamber inside her head. This conversation, so casually had about the plenty stocked in their refrigerator—in their house for that matter—was eerie. It was as if their life before the family had been invited to live in the Factory had never happened. "Where is Willy? Didn't he come with you?"
Charlie emerged from the refrigerator with the two bottles of milk, emptying the last of one into a glass, and opening the other to finish the filling of it.
"Changing; he says those walking-to-school clothes make him feel creepy-crawly. He says you wanted to see the library, and if you still want to, he'll meet us there in half an hour. Do you want to?"
Nora held the dish towel, as if waiting for a prompt. Willy had said not today, and here he was, offering, today. She recovered from her surprise.
"How will we get there?"
"In the Great Glass Elevator, of course! 'You just press any button, and whoosh, you're off!'" Finishing the recitation, and half the milk, Charlie giggled, because he was quoting Willy's answer, when Charlie had asked that very same question.
"There's a library button?"
At the question, Charlie frowned, because that was the thing, the buttons weren't always labeled in obvious ways. "Well, sorta, it doesn't say, 'Library', it says, 'Literary Allusions', and 'Reception' is 'Deception' and his office is 'Heigh Ho', and… I guess that does make the Elevator kinda tricky, but we can make a list, and ask him the ones we can't figure out."
Josephine, thinking the descriptions absurd, lifted her head from her crocheting. "You might try pressing each button, and see where it takes you."
Nora cocked her head, putting away the glass. "There's an idea I don't think I'd like to try."
Josephine gave a 'tsk' and lowered her head. Grinning, Charlie chugged the rest of his milk, rinsed the glass, and headed for his loft. Georgina slept on, snoring softly.
"Let me know when you're ready, Mum."
"I will, dear," Nora called up to him, but when she thought about going, she found herself frowning.
Twenty minutes later, standing outside the open doors of the Great Glass Elevator, with her eyes roaming over an array of buttons that made her head hurt, Nora dropped the hand holding the paper and pencil she'd brought with her to her side in defeat. Her frown was still in place.
"Is there a needle in this haystack, sweetheart?"
Charlie nodded, already in the Elevator, impatiently motioning for her to join him. "You mean 'Literary Allusions'? It's right over here. Do you want to press it?"
Following Charlie's finger, Nora could see it was right over there, and seeing it, she had an epiphany: Her mother-in-law was right. The last thing she wanted to do was press that button, or any button. She didn't want to press anything just now: not her luck; not Willy's goodwill; not Charlie's patience. She'd heard the reluctance in Charlie's voice when he'd asked her if she wanted to see the library. Looking at Charlie now, Nora could see he was making the best of it, because that's what Charlie always did, and why should he have to, now that their lives had changed? There was plenty of time to see the Factory; plenty of time to get to know Willy; he'd only spoken about his father in the most oblique way this afternoon. Nora knew she'd want to know more—Willy had as good as said the man was dying—and if she were with him, she'd ask. Not asking, when it was all that was on her mind, would be awkward, and sticky, and…
"Charlie, I've decided not to go. Please tell Willy I appreciate his invitation, but I'd rather get lost in the library tomorrow, or some other day, but not today. Dinner is at six; don't be late."
Charlie lunged to the doors of the Elevator.
"Is Willy invited?"
"Willy is always invited."
Charlie entered the library in time to see a peacock-blue top hat flip through the air, to be caught by the top of a candy-cane walking-stick, with Willy keeping the hat spinning, to the giggling delight of the watching Oompa-Loompas. Perched on Makila's desk, legs dangling, Willy turned Charlie's way, a happy smile crossing his face.
"I'm not seeing a larger relative," Willy said, throwing the spinning hat back into the air, only to catch it in his hand, as back it fell. "Show's over, group, Charlie's the cue for the finale."
The seated now standing, the standing retreating, the Oompa-Loompas made their bows, and jumping to his feet, hat on head, Willy made his. With a fond look Charlie's way, the Oompa-Loompas melted into the room, disappearing among the stacks.
"I didn't mean to spoil the show…"
"Nah, they're thrilled you got here. I was running out of tricks, and this way, none of us has to be embarrassed that those tricks are boring."
Judging by Willy's laugh, Charlie decided it must be true.
"Where are you hiding the larger relative?"
"She said to thank you for the invitation, but she'd rather, 'get lost in the library tomorrow, or some other day, but not today'."
Willy raised a brow, his smile ear-to-ear. "Really? How unexpected! And nice! Let's bounce!"
"You mean leave?"
"Yes, I mean leave," said Willy, fingertips on Charlie's back hustling him towards the Elevator. "Hang in a boring old library for no reason? Are you kidding? But I also mean let's bounce!"
The fingertips were long gone as Willy was now in the Elevator, his finger hovering over the buttons. "Check, check, check… There it is! Check!"
Charlie was in, and Willy pushed the button.
"This, is the Trampoline Room," said Willy, sweeping the two of them out of the Elevator, and onto a narrow platform, with no railing.
His walking-stick acted as a barrier for Charlie, who was peering at the blue sky and white stratus clouds, of varying sizes, that floated below him. In the distance beyond was a sky-scraping city, and next to that, rugged mountains.
"It looks like the Outdoors Room," said Charlie, dubiously. "I don't see a trampoline."
"Sure you do," said Willy, handing Charlie a remote control Willy had picked up from a recessed shelf on the wall. Willy took one, too. "Push that button."
Charlie pushed the button, an arrow with a line under it, and the 'sky' began to rise. He looked at Willy, who nodded vigorously.
"Push it again, and it will stop where it is, but keep it coming, you wanna start small when ya first start."
With this pronouncement, Willy dropped his hat and walking-stick to the floor, stood perpendicular to the edge, and then, like a synchronized swimmer entering a pool, hopped over the edge. Charlie's mouth gaped in shock, there was a good fifteen foot difference between the ledge and the nearest cloud, but when Willy hit the cloud, he bounced right back up, did a somersault, landed back on the cloud, and bounced up again. The sky with its clouds kept climbing, and Willy kept bouncing, but the somersault was a one-off, with the bouncing he was doing lessening as his cloud drew closer to the platform.
"Now you try. Wait! No! What kind of shoes are you wearing?"
"Running shoes."
"Those will be fine. Go ahead!"
It looked fun, but Charlie had mixed feelings about it. It looked like a great way to break your neck, as well. Or your spine; or some other bone you didn't want broken. Sprained ankles were bad enough.
"Not if you do it right," said Willy.
"Did I say that out loud?"
"No, but your face did."
Using his remote, Willy had brought the cloud he was on level with the platform. Charlie could see that what he thought had been a flat sky, was actually many levels close together, like stepping stones of various heights, over a wide area, with the whole of it capable of being raised or lowered with relation to the platform.
"How do you keep your balance in the Great Glass Elevator?"
"Third position, opened as needed, and three-point contact. Get yourself a walking-stick. Don't change the subject. Are you gonna try this? Look. On. Off. On. Off. Cloud Nine is out here somewhere." Willy giggled as he hopped back and forth between the surfaces. "The clouds are the trampolines. The blue sky parts are nets. See how they connect? The nets give every which way, and will absorb your energy, if you fall off of your cloud." Willy, arms spread wide, toppled like a glider run out of lift, onto the blue sky. It stretched hugely, like elastic in a cartoon, but then, not springing back very much, it held him like a bug in a spider's web. "Stay still, and it will return to its original position. Struggle, and you're stuck. It's a great net to catch snoops who get into my Factory, and trust me, there are more of those than you'd think, zero being the number I'd like to think, and it's a great way to catch your breath, if you make a mistake with one of your bounces."
"Don't you have to get the snoops to go into this room?"
"Not a problem, my dear boy, I assure you, not a problem."
Willy had remained motionless, and Charlie could see the strands shrinking into themselves. After a minute or two, Willy was able to roll onto a cloud, and stand up.
"What is this stuff?"
"Something, my boy, this stuff is something. I'd say, it's out of this world. Now, pick a cloud, any cloud, and hop on. But not this cloud; two people on one cloud at the same time is dicey. What one does, the other feels. It can throw off your balance, so if ya did get on this cloud, I'd say, 'Hey! You! Get off of my cloud', and then I'd laugh like a banshee, cuz that's not me sayin' that, that's a song sayin' that."
"A song?"
Willy was growing tired. This was supposed to be fun, and Charlie wasn't having any of it.
"Yeah, a song: The Rolling Stones, Get Off of My Cloud; it even gets it about the bouncing, "…two's a crowd on my cloud…" Willy sighed.
"What about the town? And the mountains?"
"Something to look at while you bounce, but they have their trampolines as well. Haven't you ever wanted to leap tall buildings in a single bound, like Superman? Or leap from rooftop to rooftop? Escape the bad guys? Or bound across the escarpments, like a mountain goat? Or jump off a cliff? You can do that here, without any worries, though that sort of precision takes some practice." Bouncing on his toes, Willy stepped back onto the platform. "You don't have to do this. I thought you'd think it fun. It's okay if you don't want to."
Charlie could hear the disappointment Willy's words tried not to convey. Charlie wondered that he'd hesitated as long as he had about trying it. It did look like fun, and maybe that was what was holding him back. Looking at his toes, Charlie wondered at the embarrassment he felt.
"I guess I'm not used to having fun. Not fun like this, that takes so much energy. I think I think it will kill me."
For a very long minute, there was only their breathing between them. To end the impasse, Charlie thought Willy would reach down and pick up his hat, pick up his walking-stick, declare the afternoon over, and pretend nothing significant had been said; that Willy would let the words dissolve away, the way the Oompa-Loompas in the library had dissolved among the books. Charlie watched, wondering. Willy did pick up his hat. And he did pick up his walking-stick.
"Then let us not bounce, my dear Charlie, because were I you, I would feel the same way, so lately snatched from starvation as you are, and let us sit instead like sunbeams, contemplating the blue skies, and let the clouds drift. Shall we do that?"
Charlie had said what he thought, and the afternoon wasn't ending. Reassured, Charlie nodded.
"Then follow me. Step as lightly as you can, and you won't bounce. Two at once is okay, if all we do is walk."
Willy stepped onto a cloud, and after one last moment of hesitation, Charlie followed, stepping the way Willy had.
"Good?"
Charlie nodded. It was springy, but not scary.
"Sit or sally?"
Charlie nodded at sally. At the far edge of the cloud, Willy sat, swinging his feet to a cloud a few feet down. Pushing off, he let himself roll, and having gained that cloud, he stood up.
"'Kay?"
Charlie nodded. It wasn't that far, and the springiness was beginning to feel familiar. He sat on the edge, reached down with his toes, and let himself roll. It was fun. He smiled.
Willy grinned back. "Sit or sally?"
"Sally," said Charlie, finding his voice.
They sallied until they found a likely cloud near the center, and there they sat, contemplating the scene. Charlie wondered what Willy was thinking, and if Willy were unhappy with him. A stronger child would be more what Willy had hoped for, perhaps. Willy was thinking about his morning in the library, and lung surfactant, and how not having enough of it made it hard for tiny lungs to expand. He sighed, and Charlie wondered at its cause, stealing a glance. Breathing, Willy went on thinking, while noticing the glance: such a chore, for the surfactant-ally challenged. There were other things: low red blood cell counts, low hemoglobin, low blood pressure: how far away all those things made things like thriving, or crawling, or walking, or running, or bouncing; and how far Willy had come: the true extent of his journey only lately learned. Charlie ought to know. They weren't so different. Laying his walking-stick over Charlie's crossed knee, Willy let it rest there while he talked.
"Time will pass, and with the passing time you'll grow stronger, Charlie. I did."
The tone, though soft, invited no response. The walking-stick withdrew. Charlie, looking Willy's way, found him staring into the distance. They sat a little longer.
"Are those Oompa-Loompas?"
Figures were bouncing in the distance, some on clouds, others on rooftops and cliffs. Charlie could just make out acrobatics, some quite fancy, with the forms forming pyramids, the diminutive figures back- and front-flipping out of them.
"Yeah, that'd be them. Some of them are really good. You know, all work and no play… Even Oompa-Loompas want a break from cacao beans and their by-products every now and then."
Work. Charlie's brows knit. "My mother wants me home by six."
Willy's answer was to stand, and Charlie nodded.
Thanks for reading. I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in any of its many forms, and there is no copyright infringement intended.
spacetea: I'm gonna agree with that: The Boy is a trendsetter; and speaking of Pearl Jam, isn't it neat-o, the way songs can get it said? Thanks for reviewing. Sonny April: I'm glad you liked the room; perhaps you liked this one as well; there's more of that interaction you enjoyed to come, and thanks for reviewing. Between you and me, 'well done' is something I, well, done never tire of. Squirrela: 'Cracking lines': I love that phrase. I'm glad I was able to write something to earn it. Thank you. And SamMason666: I'm very glad to know you enjoyed reading this; I hope you continue to enjoy it as it winds its way towards its finish.
