We’d agreed it was time, so we made plans. We’d take Leonard back to the sea and we’d do it at night. It had to be at night. We had Ned’s E.T. box on the front of his bike to put him in. There was the spot, halfway down to the beach, where the path split, and at the end of the left branch the rocks made stepping stones out to a platform that stuck into the sea, like a tongue tasting the salty waves. That was where we’d send him home.
But still we waited. Ned could not just let him go. Maybe he was still waiting to be ready. That first night, after the policeman had come knocking, my brother asked for a little more time.
The next day was spent with Granddad, looking at maps and playing Risk. Granddad won. Ned sat glumly while Granddad’s red troops decimated his yellow ones. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t remember the first three presidents of the United States—George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson. I couldn’t tell Granddad which river passed through Istanbul—the Bosphorus. The names of the twins who are said to have founded Rome were lost to me—Romulus and Remus.
“What’s wrong with you boys today?” Granddad asked.
We both shrugged.
“Well, my mermaid stories are all run out. So I can’t help there. Hmm. Shall we get chips for lunch?”
“All right,” Ned said. Chips are always a winner.
I was ready to do it that night. I’d fed Leonard and told him that it was time to go home. I’d found our warmest clothes and pushed them under the bed, ready. But Ned’s cough was worse than ever. He lay on the sofa, choking.
Water streamed from his eyes as Mum rubbed his chest. Dad looked angry as he watched. I sat by the living room window and stared out at Fomalhaut, the lonely star.
Later, as Mum fixed Ned a drink—Dad had fallen asleep—I said I’d do it, I’d take him.
Ned sat up and spluttered through his cough. “You can’t, Jamie. He can’t go without me. Surely you understand that.”
I frowned at my brother.
He shook his head, coughed and lay back down.
Ned was still coughing downstairs when I was sent to bed.
He slept long into the next morning. I woke before him.
Mum made me write about the fox book. The boy, Billy, had to let the fox cub go. It was sad. But you could see that life would still work. I thought I should tell Ned about it; we didn’t need Leonard. Life worked without him.
Mum sat beside me and sighed. Her eyes were red.
When Ned woke, he was still exhausted. He brought his duvet downstairs and watched Star Trek.
Mum brought us macaroni and cheese with frankfurters in it.
“My favorite,” Ned said.
As “The City on the Edge of Forever” ended and Kirk said his parting line, Ned turned to me. “Tonight,” he said. He’d only managed a few mouthfuls of his pasta.
“You sure?”
My brother glared at me. His eyes were dark. “Tonight,” he said. “I’m ready. It’s time.”