The Hundred Hearts by William Kowalski

Author:William Kowalski [Kowalski, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2013-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

11

That morning, Henry had made his way to the Kozy Kart at 6:54, having waited up all night, his Ninja Turtle backpack loaded with those things he deemed essential for a trip to New York, New York: his magic rocks, his toothbrush, the Picture Bible, and Smitty, his one-eyed teddy bear. He’d briefly considered taking along the urn that contains Helen’s ashes, because he had the vague notion that it was still inhabited by her spirit, and he thought she might be interested in the sights and sounds of a long bus ride—though how long it really was, he had no idea. Also, he was afraid Nanny might be bored just sitting on the credenza all the time, watching her family go about their business. But in the end he left it, because he knew the disappearance of such a venerated object would be the source of a great deal of trouble. It did not occur to him that his own disappearance might have a much greater effect.

Henry knew where to catch the bus because he often saw it picking up and dropping off passengers there. He did not know that it went to New York; he merely assumed it. On his way to the Kozy Kart, he kept a close eye out for red cars, which would have been a sign to him that trouble was near. One day, while Jeremy was in Afghanistan and Rita was asleep on the couch, Henry had dared to wander out of the house and into the dead neighborhood, and a gang of boys in a red car had chased him until he cried. This morning he saw no red cars. This meant it was going to be a good day.

In his pocket was a fat wad of cash he’d taken from Al’s dresser. He knew where Al kept it because he often used to hide in Al’s closet whenever bad feelings overtook him, and he’d seen him stash it there. For his size, Henry could be remarkably hard to see when he chose to disappear. In fact, he believed he could make himself completely invisible at will; for in his own mind, Henry was very small, scarcely larger than a baby.

At the Kozy Kart, an exhausted-looking woman in a head scarf slumped on one elbow. She bestirred herself upon the ringing of the bell that announced Henry’s arrival, but once she saw who it was, her exhaustion doubled. Her previous conversations with Henry had not gone well. None of her conversations in America had gone well. English was a struggle and a trial for this woman, who had been born sixty years earlier into a part of the world that appeared little different from a thousand years ago, and who through various accidents of marriage and politics had found herself launched into a strange alternate universe called America. She found America nearly impossible to describe. In her youth there had been flocks of goats, groves of fig and olive trees, and large

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