They walked the long steep path up to the house which loomed atop the scraggly lawn The path was made of slabs of broken slate positioned like stepping-stones across a weedy ocean of grass up to the front door The house resembled a witch’s dollhouse with elaborately carved trim that looked good enough to eat but would surely kill him with one bite Tall pointy spires pierced the still blue sky The house could use a good paint job but it had a lot of windows with tall shutters and a porch surrounded by spindly columns This house is right out of Nathaniel Hawthorne Mildred said craning her neck and shading her eyes against the sun as she squinted up at it Who’s that A famous American author remember that The man who lives here is a professor This could be your big chance of having a real mentor Someone to look up to Mildred squeezed his shoulder Need I remind you you’re running out of chances This could be your last one We got lucky The professor asked for a boy who liked magic and I knew you would be perfect OK so what did this Hawthorne guy write Jack sighed bracing for the inevitable lesson on famously boring writers he couldn’t care less about The Scarlet Letter What’s it about Lust adultery and impure thoughts and poor Hester Prynne had to wear a scarlet letter pinned to her bosom Mildred clutched at the front of her knit cardigan Bosoms Jack wrenched his neck jerking his head toward
Mildred and burst out laughing This was your first choice of places to leave me a house that reminded you of bosoms I’m not leaving you She grasped his sleeve Her eyelashes fluttered her watery blue eyes brimming with tears Jack had made a critical error Mildred was a crier He squeezed her hand in his her skin a soft bruised peach Don’t cry Millie She loved it when he called her Millie Last time she cried half her makeup ran down her face and it was not pretty He had had no idea that women put a skin colored layer of makeup over their faces Jack was learning that women were highly layered and it was not a good idea to get them wet Mildred dabbed at her eyes with a wad of crumpled-up tissue Don’t say spit young man And when we get inside don’t say booger loogie or fart And don’t talk about any other bodily functions in front of your new foster father Please try Please try to let him like you Jack stared into Mildred’s eyes as she inspected his face for any microscopic filth that might still be visible Mildred we all fart Not necessarily I was married for thirty-five years and never once expelled gas in front of my husband Mildred held Just give me a ring if he turns out to be a murderer and I’ll be back in a flash Mildred tried to pat down his light brown hair it was a little too long all over but it didn’t go all the way to his collar She licked her thumbs and pressed on his temples Jack swatted her hands away Millie stop Why don’t you just spit on me
her chin high as if the suppression of one’s bowels were an admirable quality in a woman Jack scrunched up his face and asked What’d you do when you had to fart I would run into another room and sit on a pillow Mildred said revealing yet another layer of her complicated female persona Fine I won’t fart I’ll probably get some intestinal disorder but I’ll hold it in Good boy Jack She kissed his forehead and held his head in her hands like she was sending him off into the Wild West Jack liked to think he lived his life like a cowboy with nothing behind him riding into that big sky country dodging arrows and Indians Mildred smoothed her hands over her dress and pushed the doorbell
Ehrich Weiss He isn't born Harry Houdini The exact day that Ehrich is born is lost like many things left behind Sardined into the belly of a steamer ship his journey begins by boat miles of wild Atlantic stretched out in front of him He arrives on a sweat soaked July day in the New World leaving everything for a chance at a life in America Opportunity lands him and his family in Appleton In a metropolis of empty fields and small town ways they do not last long Sometimes the first place isn't the right place Ehrich wants to be an acrobat Sailing through the air flying from slim bar to slim bar for a brief second the acrobat is airborne Nothing is impossible for Ehrich is the prince of
