For Henry's birthday, Lochlan built him a telescope out of copper, glass and wood. He built a platform for it out on the end of the wall for viewing and pretty much put everyone to shame, including Caleb. And then Henry felt very bad about referencing Lochlan's legendary self-imposed poverty but Lochlan explained to him that most of the parts were foraged, and he actually started it two years ago, thinking it would be a fitting present for a young man, now in his teens.
I thought he was practice-welding on an old bike frame that's been under a tarp in the corner of the garage of the other house all this time.
He's really good at this quiet oneupmanship. Freakishly good, naturally, freak that he is. He's going to teach Henry some astronomy because Caleb says it's a foolish science so it's all the more important now that Henry understand just how big that sky really is. It's rare I see a speechless room full of boys over something good but I'll take it anyway.
***
Five in the morning and I am turned by the elbows back into Loch's arms. He is awake, against all odds and couldn't find me in his dreams so he found me in life. He pulls me back into the dream with him and I go willingly, carefully so as not to disturb anything. Lochlan's thoughts are colorful, all muted sunshine and sticky sugar high excitement. In his dreams I ride a Ferris wheel that actually touches the moon and a roller coaster that loops around the world. The swing flings me through the clouds and I reach down into one, scooping up a handful of gritty blue cotton candy just in time to be caught gently in a teacup as it spins around a post, bolted to a saucer made of July.
When I wake up next it's eight and he asks me if I liked the trip. I nod and say I'm going to make coffee and he can tell me how he does it and he shakes his head and tells me he'll take the coffee but not spill the secrets that keep us bound together so tightly, that magic, once explained, loses everything.
