Kate DiCamillo: Flora & Ulysses

Ulysses’s heart rejoiced, too. He wasn’t lost anymore. Dr. Meescham would help him find Flora.

Also, Dr. Meescham might make him a jelly sandwich.

“Imagine,” said Dr. Meescham. “Imagine if I had been sleeping, what I would have missed. But then, always and forever, I have been an insomniac. You know what this is? Insomnia?”

Ulysses shook his head.

“It means I do not sleep. When I was a girl in Blundermeecen, I did not sleep. Who knows why? It could be some existential terror related to the trolls. Or it could be simply because I do not sleep. Sometimes there are no reasons. Often, most of the time, there are no reasons. The world cannot be explained. But I talk too much. I digress. I need to say to you: Why are you here? And where is your Flora Belle?”

Ulysses looked at Dr. Meescham.

He made his eyes very big.

If only there were some way to tell her everything that had happened: Flora’s mother saying that life would be easier without her, the universe expanding, William Spiver’s banishment, Flora’s homesickness, the writing of his poem, the typing of the untrue words, the stone squirrel, the sack, the woods, the shovel . . .

The squirrel was overwhelmed by everything there was to say and his inability to say it.

He looked down at his front paws.

He looked back up at Dr. Meescham.

“Ah,” she said, “there is too much to say. You do not know where to begin.”

Ulysses nodded.

“Perhaps it would be good to begin with a little snack?”

Ulysses nodded again.

“When the other Dr. Meescham was alive and I could not sleep, do you know what he would do for me? This man would put on his slippers and he would go out into the kitchen and he would fix for me sardines on crackers. You know sardines?”

Ulysses shook his head.

“Little fishes in a can. He would put these little fishes onto crackers for me, and then I would hear him coming back down the hallway, carrying the sardines and humming, returning to me.” Dr. Meescham sighed. “Such tenderness. To have someone get out of bed and bring you little fishes and sit with you as you eat them in the dark of night. To hum to you. This is love.”

Dr. Meescham wiped at her eyes. She smiled at Ulysses. “So,” she said, “I will make for you what my beloved made for me: sardines on crackers. Does this seem like a good thing?”

Ulysses nodded. It seemed like a very good thing.

“We will eat, because this is important, to eat. And then, even though it is the middle of the night, we will go and knock on the door of Mr. George Buckman. And he will open the door to us because he is capacious of heart. And then George Buckman and I will figure out together why you are here and where our Flora Belle is.”

Ulysses nodded.

Dr. Meescham went into the kitchen, and the squirrel sat on the windowsill and looked out into the dark world.

Flora was out there somewhere.

He would find her. She would find him. They would find each other. And then he would write her another poem. This one would be about little fishes and humming in the dark of the night.

Flora was on the side of the highway.

There were, she had discovered, all kinds of ridiculous things strewn along the side of a road. Shoes, for one thing. And balled-up knee-high stockings. And polyester slacks, baby-blue ones, with a permanent crease. Did people undress as they drove down the road?

There were metal objects: hubcaps, a pair of rusty scissors, a sparkplug. And there were truly inexplicable things. For instance: a plastic banana, glowing a bright and unreal yellow in the dark. That one was interesting. Flora bent down to examine it more closely.

“What are you doing?” said William Spiver. He stopped, too, because she was attached to him and he was attached to her. Which is to say that William Spiver and Flora Belle Buckman were, unbelievably, still holding hands.

“I’m looking at a banana,” said Flora.

Tootie was marching ahead of them, holding the little shepherdess out in front of her and shouting Ulysses’s name.

William Spiver’s hand was getting kind of sweaty. Or maybe it was Flora’s hand that was getting sweaty. It was hard to say. William Spiver was still crying (silently) and Ulysses was still missing, and here they were walking along a highway behind an unlit lamp, stopping occasionally to look at knee-high stockings and plastic bananas.

It all must mean something.

But what?

Flora mentally flipped through every issue of The Illuminated Adventures of the Amazing Incandesto!, every issue of TERRIBLE THINGS CAN HAPPEN TO YOU! and The Criminal Element Is Among Us, that she had ever read. She searched for some kind of advice, acknowledgment, the tiniest clue about what to do in this situation.

She came up empty-handed. She was on her own.

She laughed.

“What are you laughing about?” said William Spiver.

Flora laughed louder. William Spiver laughed along with her.

“What’s so funny back there?” said Tootie.

“Everything,” said Flora.

“Wheeee,” said Tootie.

And then they were all laughing. Except for Mary Ann, who couldn’t laugh because she was inanimate. But even if she had been capable of laughing, she probably wouldn’t have done it. She just wasn’t that kind of lamp.

They were all still laughing when the temporarily blind William Spiver stepped on the cord of the little shepherdess and tripped.

And because he refused to let go of Flora’s hand (or did she refuse to let go of his?), Flora fell, too. She landed on top of William Spiver.

There was a crunch and then a tinkle.

“Oh, no,” said William Spiver, “my glasses! They’re broken!”

“For heaven’s sake, William,” said Tootie. “You don’t even need those glasses.”

Flora was so close to William Spiver that she could feel his heart beating wildly somewhere inside of him. She thought, I sure have felt a lot of hearts recently.

“Wait a minute,” said William Spiver. He held his head up. “Everyone be quiet. Shhh. What are those tiny pinpricks of light?”

Flora looked where William Spiver was looking. “Those are stars, William Spiver.”

“I can see the stars! I can see! Great-Aunt Tootie! Flora Belle, I can see!”

“It’s a miracle,” said Tootie.

“Or something,” said Flora.

The hallway of the Blixen Arms emitted the same green gloomy light no matter the time of day or night.

“Watch out for the cat,” said Flora.

“The infamous Mr. Klaus,” said William Spiver. He looked around. He was smiling. “The cat who was defeated by a superhero squirrel. I will certainly keep an eye out for him. And I hate to sound like a broken record, but may I just say again what a delight it is to see ? Talk about being born anew. Nothing, nothing, will ever again escape my notice.”

“Goody,” said Tootie.

“I’m not kidding,” said Flora. “Mr. Klaus could be anywhere.”

“Yes,” said William Spiver. “My eyes are open. They are open, indeed.”

“Knock again,” said Tootie.

Flora knocked again.

Where could her father be in the middle of the night? Had someone kidnapped him, too? Was it kidnapping if it was an adult? Or was that adult-napping? George Buckman–napping?