Helen Phillips - Some Possible Solutions

Back at the Life Care Center, my mother gets bored.

In the old-fashioned print shop we come upon thousands of small metal letters with which any book at all could be written.

* * *

Once upon atime, there was a magical building where the very oldest people lived. The final ritual in every wedding ceremony consisted of the young couple walking down the hallway of this building, which was lined with all the old people sitting in their special chairs. Each old person would bestow upon them a blessing, and the newlyweds would emerge into the dusk stronger, richer, and happier than before. During the wedding night their skin and hair would be redolent of ancient urine, and in the morning they would walk together to the gleaming river where they would wash each other. For the rest of their lives, the fragrance of urine would always remind them of abundance, ecstasy.

* * *

Do we makethe old folks envious or joyous? Did Helen ever find her room?

We’re not supposed to help them, you know.

They once had jobs and friends. It sounds miraculous, but it must be true. They once wore clothing that wasn’t soft and forgiving.

* * *

Back at thebeginning of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers , the eldest brother has just convinced Milly to marry him. He convinced her while she was milking the cow, leaning her cheek up against the warm barrel of its stomach.

My mother says: I’ve watched the first fifteen minutes of this movie twenty times in the last week.

Our grief is about ourselves. Our own regrets. Our own shortcomings.

As kids, we watched this movie uncountable times. Soon they will get married; they will ride the wagon up into the mountains; Milly will learn that he has six filthy brothers; Milly will teach those brothers some manners. I know every sentence in this movie yet I am not sick of it. In fact, I feel curious about what will happen next.

But we must leave. Plane to catch, et cetera.

Across the hall: Help .

A desire to watch Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in its entirety — regret about not being able to do so — we linger until Milly forces the brothers to remove their long underwear — until she trains them to court girls — until the barn-raising scene, again. The smiley girl may not see me again before she goes, but she will see this movie many times. Suddenly she looks away from the TV screen and stares straight into my eyes.

* * *

Suddenly you lookaway from the TV screen and stare straight into my eyes, absolving or interrogating or thanking or begging or parting. Why are you doing this? You never do this.

A confession: When we were kids and people asked how much you understood, I said “Everything,” as I had been trained, but when I became an adult and people asked how much you understood, I said “Nothing.”

Don’t worry; I saw the recognition in your eyes when you stared at me. The unmistakable recognition. It left me shaking.

* * *

Now you willbe stuck here forever watching Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in a darkening room, Help across the hall, eternally contemplating the scene just after the barn-raising scene, the scene from which I must tear myself away, regret for leaving you manifesting itself as regret for not watching the rest of the movie.

* * *

What can shedo? my husband asked long before he was my husband.

She can smile.

Anything else?

She can cry.

Anything else?

* * *

Making it tothe doorway, the golden threshold, rushing back.

An immobile girl alone in a darkened room. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in a darkened room. Cheerful song, cheerful song, cheerful song.

* * *

Out walking ona faraway dirt road. He and I, side by side. Night coming, yet the sky still white, the air still pink. Colors somehow brighter as the world begins to dim. An aster, a horse. A fistful of grass. The expectation of constellations, wood smoke. Hollow and weary.

In the distance, an incredible creature. As large as a baby elephant, with tan fur like a wooly mammoth. Some kind of magical beast moving through the twilight. Surprise, followed by terror. But this — this thing turns out just to be two people, a man and a woman, walking several paces apart in the darkening world.

The pretty astronaut strolls in a landscape reminiscent of Earth, except the dirt is purple, the sky yellow, and the grass red. Aside from these details, we are reminded of the medieval hamlets we once learned about in our textbooks. She winds through a meadow, approaching a cluster of thatched cottages. Her movements are stiffened by the space suit, but still we can tell she is graceful. When she reaches the village, she finds a small crowd of aliens gathered in the central square. These aliens are much more like humans than anyone would have expected. Their skin comes in various shades of tan and brown. They wear dresses and pants. There are old ones, babies, children, couples, as on Earth. In fact, they resemble humans almost exactly, except that — well, how to say it? They’re somehow vaguer around the edges. A bit blurry. It’s hard to feel entirely confident about where their bodies end.

They seem to be gentle creatures. They smile at the astronaut with lips no different from our own. It’s clear they would like to touch her, but they are polite and hold back. The mothers restrain their children. The old people hang on to one another’s trembling hands. A strong young girl lowers a bucket into the well and carries it, overflowing, to the astronaut, who does not take it. Perhaps she wants to maintain the seal of her helmet. Perhaps she fears the substance offered may not be water. The girl isn’t offended. She simply carries the bucket back to the well and dumps the unused fluid.

The astronaut seems touched. She gestures toward her heart. No one knew they would be so capable of charming us. She gazes at them, attempting to make eye contact with each. Her eyes meet those of a tall alien man on the outskirts of the group. He’s as handsome as she is pretty. His stare is intense and tender.

She begins to wobble. He begins to wobble. She is elevated a few inches off the ground and her feet are dragged across the dry purple dirt, raising a cloud of lavender dust. The invisible force propelling her rapidly toward him also propels him toward her. The aliens step out of the way. A great black flash obscures the moment of encounter. The camera must have shattered, because this is all we have.

It’s an amazing sight.

* * *

It is somewhatless amazing on the fiftieth viewing.

The TV networks become addicted to this footage for the week following the incident. At first, we’re addicted too.

“Look! Right there! In the middle of the black flash!”

“How can there be a black flash? Isn’t a flash always white?”

“Did you see it this time?”

“See what? You’re getting crumbs everywhere, by the way.”

“What I told you to look for!”

“What?”

“In the middle of the black flash there’s a naked woman ! And a naked man too, but he’s harder to spot. He’s sort of — I don’t know — misty.”

“A naked woman? Scoot over.”

“How can she be naked ? She was wearing her space suit a millisecond ago.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see it.”

“I told you to watch for it! Why do you never listen to me?”

“Mind if I have the last gingersnap?”

“Look, they’re showing it again.”

“Big surprise.”

“ Look for it this time, okay? Look for the naked woman. And next time round you can look for the naked man. You’re not looking!”