Passage I

PROSE FICTION: This passage is adapted from the short story “Golden Glass” by Alma Villanueva(© 1982 by Bilingual Press)

It was his fourteenth summer. He was thinning out, becoming angular and clumsy, but the cautiousness, the old-man seriousness he’d had as a baby, kept him contained, ageless and safe. His humor, always dry and to the bone since a small child, let you know he was watching everything.

He seemed always to be at the center of his own universe, so it was no surprise to his mother to hear Ted say: “I’m building a fort and sleeping out in it all summer, and I won’t come in for anything, not even food, Okay?”

This had been their silent communication, the steady presence of love that flowed regularly, daily—food. The presence of his mother preparing it, his great appetite and obvious enjoyment of it—his nose smelling everything, seeing his mother more vividly than with his eyes.

He watched her now for signs of offense, alarm, and only saw interest. “Where will you put the fort?” Vida asked.

She trusted him to build well and not ruin things, but of course she had to know where.

“I'll build it by the redwoods, in the cypress trees. Okay?”

“Make sure you keep your nails together and don’t dig into the trees. I’ll be checking. If the trees get damaged, it’ll have to come down.”

The cypress was right next to the redwoods, making it seen every remote. Redwoods do that—they suck up sound and time and smell like another place. So he counted the footsteps, when no one was looking, from the fort to the house. He couldn’t believe it was so close; it seemed so separate, alone—especially in the dark, when the only safe way of travel seemed flight (invisible at best).

Ted had seen his mother walk out to the bridge at night, looking into the water, listening to it. He knew she loved to see the moon’s reflection in the water. She’d pointed it out to him once by a river where they camped, her face full of longing. Then, she swam out into the water, at night, as though trying to touch the moon. He wouldn’t look at her. He sat and glared at the fire and roasted another marshmallow the way he liked it: bubbly, soft and brown (maybe six if he could get away with it). Then she’d be back, chilled and bright, and he was glad she went. Maybe I like the moon too, he thought, involuntarily, as though the thought weren’t his own—but is was.

He build the ground floor directly on the earth, with a cover of old plywood, then scattered remnant rugs that he’d asked Vida to get for him. He concocted a latch and a door. He brought his sleeping bag, some pillows, a transistor radio, some clothes, and moved in for summer.

He began to build the top floor now but he had to prune some limbs out of the way. Well. That was okay as long as he was careful. So he stacked them to one side for kindling and began to brace things in place. It felt weird going up into the tree, not as safe as his small, contained place on the ground.

Vida noticed Ted had become cheerful and would stand next to her, to her left side, talking sometimes. But she realized she mustn’t face him or he’d become silent and wander away. So she stood listening , in the same even breath and heart beat she kept when she spotted the wild pheasants with their long, lush tails trailing the grape arbor, picking delicately and greedily at the unpicked grapes in the early autumn light. So sharp, so perfect, so rare to see a wild thing at peace.

Ted was taking a makeup course and one in stained glass. There, he talked and acted relaxed; no one expected any more or less. The colors of the stained glass were deep and beautiful, and special—you couldn’t waste this glass. The sides were sharp, the cuts were slow and meticulous with a steady pressure. The design’s plan had to be absolutely followed or the beautiful glass would go to waste, and he’d curse himself.

The stained glass was finished and he decided to place it in his fort facing the back fields. In fact, it looked like the back fields—trees and the sun in a dark sky. During the day the glass sun shimmered a beautiful yellow, the blue a much better than the sky outside: deeper, like night.

He was so used to sleeping outside now he didn’t wake up during the night, just like in the house. One night, toward the end when he’d have to move back with everyone(school was starting, frost was coming and the rains), Ted woke up to see the stained glass full of light. The little sun was a golden moon and the inside glass sky and the outside sky matched.

In a few days he’d be inside, and he wouldn’t mind at all.