Kate DiCamillo - Flora & Ulysses

“The pupils of his little eyes are not dilated,” said Dr. Meescham.

“Dilated pupils,” said Flora. “I couldn’t remember that one.”

“So, this is good. This is a hopeful sign. Next we will see if he remembers what happened. We will check for amnesia.”

Flora’s face came into view. He was glad to see her and her round head. “Ulysses,” she said, “do you remember what happened? Do you remember being in the Giant Do-Nut?”

Did he remember being in Rita’s hair? Did he remember Rita screaming? Did he remember the man with the knife? Did he remember flying? Did he remember hitting his head very hard? Did he remember not getting to eat a giant donut? Let’s see: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. And yes.

He nodded.

“Oh,” said Dr. Meescham. “He nods his head. He communicates with you.”

“He’s, um, different. Special,” said Flora. “A special kind of squirrel.”

“Excellent! Good! I believe this!”

“Something happened to him.”

“Yes, he hit a door with his head.”

“No,” said Flora, “before that. He was vacuumed. You know, sucked up in a vacuum cleaner.”

There was a small silence. And then there was more humming from Dr. Meescham. Ulysses tried again to get to his feet and was again pushed gently back.

“You are speaking euphemistically?” said Dr. Meescham.

“I’m not,” said Flora. “I’m speaking literally. He was vacuumed. It changed him.”

“Certainly it did!” said Dr. Meescham. “Absolutely, it changed him to be vacuumed.” She raised her magnifying glass to her eye and leaned in close, studying him. She lowered the magnifying glass. “How did it change him, please?”

Ulysses stood on all fours, and no one pushed him back.

“You will speak without euphemisms,” said Dr. Meescham.

“He has powers,” said Flora. “He’s strong. And he can fly.” She paused. “Also, he types. He writes, um, poetry.”

“A typewriter! Poetry! Flight!” said Dr. Meescham. She sounded delighted.

“His name is Ulysses.”

“This,” said Dr. Meescham, “is an important name.”

“Well,” said Flora, “it was the name of the vacuum cleaner that almost killed him.”

Dr. Meescham looked Ulysses in the eye.

It was rare for someone to look a squirrel in the eye.

Ulysses pulled himself up straighter. He looked back at Dr. Meescham. He met her gaze.

“You must also list among his powers the ability to understand. This is no small thing, to understand,” Dr. Meescham said to Flora. And then she turned back to Ulysses. “You are feeling maybe a little sick to the stomach?”

Ulysses shook his head.

“Good,” said Dr. Meescham. She clapped her hands together. “I am thinking that Ulysses is not concussed. There is only this little cut on his head, other than that: fine, good, great! I am thinking that maybe the squirrel is hungry.”

Ulysses nodded.

Yes, yes! He was very hungry. He would like eggs sunny-side up.

He would like a donut. With sprinkles.

You,” said Dr. Meescham to Flora, “will have a seat on the sofa and listen to the Mozart, and I will go and make us some sandwiches.”

“What about my father?” said Flora. “Shouldn’t I tell him where I am?”

“Mr. George Buckman knows where you are,” said Dr. Meescham. “He knows that you are safe. So, good. All is good. You will sit on the horsehair sofa, please.”

Dr. Meescham went into the kitchen, and Flora turned and looked at the couch. It was a huge couch. She dutifully sat down on it and then slowly, very slowly, slid off it.

“Wow,” she said.

She climbed back up on the couch and concentrated on staying put. She sat with her hands on either side of her and her legs straight out in front of her. She felt like an oversize doll. She also felt very, very tired. And a tiny bit confused.

Maybe I’m in shock, she thought.

TERRIBLE THINGS CAN HAPPEN TO YOU! had done an issue listing the symptoms of shock, but Flora couldn’t remember what they were.

Was one of the symptoms of shock that you couldn’t remember the symptoms of shock?

She looked over at Ulysses. He was still sitting on the dining-room table. He looked confused, too.

She waved at him, and he nodded back.

And then she noticed that there was a picture hanging on the wall opposite the couch. It was a painting of what looked like nothing but darkness. Unremitting darkness.

“Unremitting darkness” was a phrase that occurred often in The Criminal Element, but why would someone paint a picture of unremitting darkness?

Flora slid off the couch and walked over to the painting and stared at it more closely. In the middle of all the darkness, there was a tiny boat. It was floating on a black sea. Flora put her face right up against the painting. Something was wrapped around the boat, some tentacled shadow.

For the love of Pete! The tiny boat on the dark sea was getting eaten by a giant squid.

Flora’s heart protested with a small thud of fear. “Holy bagumba,” she whispered.

From the kitchen, there came the sound of clinking silverware and crashing plates. The opera music ended.

“Ulysses?” said Flora.

She looked behind her and saw the squirrel sitting on the floor, sniffing his tail.

“Come here,” she said to him.

He walked over to her, and she picked him up and put him on her shoulder. “Look,” she said.

He stared at the painting.

“This boat is getting eaten by a gigantic squid.”

He nodded.

“It’s a tragedy,” said Flora. “There are people on board that boat. Look, you can see them. They’re ant-size. But they’re people.”

Ulysses squinted. He nodded again.

“They’re all going to die,” explained Flora. “Every last one of them. As a superhero, you should be outraged. You should want to save them. Incandesto would!”

“Ah,” said Dr. Meescham, coming up behind them, “you are studying my poor, lonely giant squid.”

“Lonely?” said Flora.

“The giant squid is the loneliest of all God’s creatures. He can sometimes go for the whole of his life without seeing another of his kind.”

For some reason, Dr. Meescham’s words conjured up the face of William Spiver, white haired and dark eyed. Flora’s heart squinched up. Go away, William Spiver, she thought.

“That squid is a villain,” said Flora out loud. “He needs to be vanquished. He’s eating a boat. And he’s going to eat all the people on the boat.”

“Yes, well, loneliness makes us do terrible things,” said Dr. Meescham. “And that is why the picture is there, to remind me of this. Also, because the other Dr. Meescham painted it when he was young and joyful.”

Good grief, thought Flora. What did he paint when he was old and depressed?

“Now, you will sit on the horsehair sofa, please,” said Dr. Meescham, “and I will bring out the jelly sandwiches.”

Flora sat down on the couch. Ulysses was still on her shoulder. She put up her hand and touched him. He was warm. He was a small engine of warmness.

“The giant squid is the loneliest creature in all existence,” said Flora out loud.

And then, to keep things grounded and in perspective, she muttered, “Seal blubber.”

And then she whispered, “Do not hope; instead, observe.”

She kept her hand on the squirrel.