Horsefeathers

The next day when Clara slid in, she found Dewey on the floor of his office with little pieces of paper all over the floor, cut out and placed here and there, trying to piece together what it all meant. He was trying to piece together what he should do.

Wolfie made high-pitched little half-barking sounds in his sleep that made him sound part bird and part dolphin—Chirrup, click, click.

“Boss,” said Clara. “Dewey,” she sighed. “Come sit down with me,” she scooted over Wolfie, who was dreaming about catching squirrels.

“May I make a suggestion?”

She continued on without giving him to a chance to reply.

“Ask your parents what’s going on. Tell them you heard them talking and that you’re upset. Just talk to them.”

“Really?” asked Dewey. The idea of just asking them about it had not really occurred to him, in part because he’d felt like he wasn’t even supposed to know about the move yet.

“But I’m not even supposed to know about us moving,” he objected.

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Know about them moving?”

“Clara!”

“Well, then the rest of this is just horsefeathers.”

“Ha!” laughed Dewey. “Horsefeathers is a funny word! I rather prefer ‘balderdash’ myself,” he said, putting on airs.

“Hogwash, hooey-balooey, claptrap, poppycock, applesauce, flimflam! Call it what you want, Dewey Fairchild. You need to sit down with your parents and have a heart-to-heart! Sir,” she added, her crow’s feet smiling. It was clear who was the real boss at the moment.

“Hmmm,” said Dewey. “Hmmm.”



That night at dinner, Dewey hung around in the kitchen longer than usual while his dad did the dishes.

“Dad? Can I talk to you?”

“Sure. Can you dry and talk at the same time?”

“Uugh. I’m tired. I’ve been on my feet all day,” complained Dewey.

“Oh, yeah. Right. I forgot. We dentist types sit all day. You’re right, son. Sit down and rest. Your mom and I will work, cook, and do all the cleaning.”

Uh oh. This wasn’t getting off to a very good start.

“Dad, I’ll do them tomorrow. Deal?”

“Hmm, OK. Deal. But I’m holding you to that. So what’s on your mind?”

“Moving,” Dewey surprised even himself by just blurting it out. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

“Oh. Ha! I guess your mom and I aren’t quite as stealthy as we think we are, huh?”

“I guess not,” said Dewey.

His dad stopped doing the dishes, dried his hands on the towel, and sat down at the table.

And then there came the requisite talk about how much he thought the family would love Alaska. All of the many virtues of a life in Alaska. Imagine an Eskimo Boy Scout troop in Alaska. The Aurora Borealis! The annual Moose Droppings Festival. That kind of thing.

But then, Dewey asked, “But why, Dad. Can you tell me why?”

And his dad surprised him and said something that actually mattered.

“You know, son, as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to run my own business. And this is my opportunity to do just that. Dr. Bernard is offering me the chance to open up a practice in Alaska that he’s going to front so that someday he can retire there. It’s mine to run, though. I get to make all the decisions—set things up my way.”

“But don’t you do that now?” asked Dewey.

“No. Not really. It’s Dr. Bernard’s business. I just work for him. He took me on fifteen years ago, and, frankly, by now I expected that we’d be partners. But it’s not moving that direction. And I don’t want to keep working for another person, even one whom I respect as much as Dr. Bernard. Do you understand, Dewey?”

Dewey thought he did. He liked being his own boss too, and he was only eleven. He figured by his dad’s age you’d probably get sick of someone else telling you what to do all the time.

But Alaska? Surely there’d be a way out of this now that he knew the problem, though it seemed more complicated than ever.

“I see,” said Dewey before nodding. “Dad. I can finish the dishes now. My feet got to rest while we were talking.”

Dewey’s dad patted him on the head. “You’re a good boy. We’ll make your sisters do them tomorrow then.” He left the room with his mind already on other dad things, like how he was going to find time to wash the car tomorrow and where, since his favorite place was closed for remodeling.

Dewey, on the other hand, was not done with this topic. He finished washing the dishes and set his mind to following up the conversation with his mother. First he needed to think. He knew she didn’t want to go either, but he had to come up with some way to get her to understand that they needed Dad to be happy doing what he does here. And fast.

📎

Unfortunately for Dewey, he didn’t get that time to think to himself because his father told his mother about their conversation, and she sprang it on him in his least favorite way.

“Dewey, I have some things I’d like to talk with you about,” she said as she sat at the end of his bed with The Three Musketeers, evidently nothing more than a tease this evening, in her lap.

No matter how she said those words, be they gently, friendly, kindly, warmly, casually, or calmly, they always sent Dewey into a small panic. Oh, no! What does she want now? What did I do?

This time, it was about his conversation with his dad, and he was totally unprepared for that. He hadn’t expected his dad would have spoken to her this quickly. He hadn’t had time to plot, strategize, or plan at all.

“Dad says you have some questions and concerns about us moving to Alaska.”

“No,” he said unprepared for the lump that landed in his throat and the tears that started to well up in his eyes. “I just don’t want to go, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she said gently, smiling warmly as she picked him up off the pillow to hug him, letting the book slip down between them. “Is that all?”

He buried his face in her shoulder but didn’t let himself really cry.

He sat up, and she wiped his cheek even though no tears had come out.

“Did you know Dad doesn’t like his job?” asked Dewey.

“Did he tell you that?”

“Not exactly. But he said he wants to go to Alaska so he can be his own boss.”

“Oh. Yes, I see. Well, that’s true. I think there is some truth to that. I also think he likes an adventure. But you know what I mostly think?” she continued. “I think these are very grown up decisions, and you can trust us to make good ones for the family.”

“But I don’t want to move to Alaska! I have friends here! A life! Stephanie has a life! Pooh Bear, well, not so much, but we do. I have a career of my own, you know!”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand. I’m just saying, I don’t want to start over.”

“And I’m just saying, I don’t really want to start over either. And if you’ve heard we’re moving, why then, I guess you’ve heard that much as well. But you’re going to have to leave it to us to make the decisions about what’s best for the family.”

Dewey sighed. “OK, Mom.”

“Do you want me to read to you, still?”

“OK,” he said, sounding a bit defeated. But he was finding it very hard to concentrate, so he soon feigned exhaustion and asked her to turn out the light.

“Mom?” he asked as she was closing his door, “is the crust on bread really healthier for you?”

“It is.”

“Why?”

She walked back to the side of his bed and kissed his forehead. “More antioxidants. Night, Dewey.”

Hmm. More antioxidants. Go figure. Good to know.