Eight Minutes Read Online Free PDF Page B

pretend cast on Toby’s left leg.
    “I am waying down,” Toby says, sitting up.
    I ask, “Now, Toby, which one is John Robberson? The pilot or the rescuer?”
    “Me!” he says, hobbling away. “With a bwoken weg!” Sanjay scrambles after him, and before they reach the slide, both boys have their arms outstretched like airplanes once again.
    “See what I mean?” Lakshmi smiles. “He’s always John Robberson. It’s okay. He can’t help it.”
    “Can’t help it?”
    “Be honest, Shelly,” she says. “You know John Robberson is not his imaginary friend.”
    She’s right again. I do know this much, at least. I raise my eyebrows at her.
    “You may not want to hear it,” she says, “but I suspect this is like the New Delhi boy. I think Toby is responding to what his old soul is revealing to him.”
    “I knew you were going to say that.” I smile and try not to let on that I’ve been thinking the same thing. “Okay. Let’s say that’s true. I just don’t get what’s being revealed. It’s not like Toby has gained this mind-blowing wisdom or anything. All he does is play the same game all the time. What’s the point?”
    “You need to know more in order to put the pieces together. I’d ask Toby,” she says. “The best way to find out about John Robberson is to go to the source.”
    She must see the reluctance in my face, because she says, “Look, it’s all fine and harmless right now, but I wouldn’t ignore it. If John Robberson wants something from Toby, don’t you want to know?”
    We turn toward the boys and watch Toby crash his plane and Sanjay rescue him yet again. From the outside, it looks like nothing just happened, but I feel the sudden shift inside me, as if Lakshmi has swiped back a heavy curtain and I’m squinting against the sun. John Robberson has somehow morphed into more than a remote possibility.
    Don’t I want to know what John Robberson wants? The longer we sit there, not saying anything else, just watching those boys fly and crash and fly and crash, the more I know I couldn’t ignore that question if I tried. My ears are ringing like an alarm that went off way too late. My mind rattles with all the horrible possibilities.
    “What could he want?” I blurt, breaking the silence between us. “He can’t hurt Toby, can he?”
    “Oh, I doubt it.” Lakshmi is not only unperturbed, she seems completely unaware of the impact of her words. “He’s probably just got some kind of karma that needs to be worked out.”
    With the urgency I used to feel right before a project kickoff meeting, and maybe a tinge of anxiety, I embark on a fact-finding mission. After Toby’s nap, I retrieve my old leather portfolio and sit down with him at the kitchen table. I interview him like a new client, taking care to write down his answers. I read the list back to him, to make sure he agrees.
John Robberson is a grown man with a smooth belly who may or may not look like Eric, who may be Eric’s age and maybe even as old as Pa.
John Robberson might wear a uniform made of a shirt and pants.
John Robberson talked or whispered to Toby at the flight museum and asked if Toby liked his plane.
Toby likes John Robberson’s plane.
John Robberson thinks you should wink at girls.
John Robberson likes coffee and oatmeal cream pies.
John Robberson wants Toby to meet someone named Kay.
    “Why does he want you to meet Kay?” I ask him, to clarify this last point.
    “I don’t want to!” he says, using his outside voice.
    I return to my paper and add an item:
Toby doesn’t want to meet Kay.
    “There. I wrote it down. But why not?”
    He starts kicking his feet against the chair legs. “I just don’t!”
    “Okay, okay.” I rest my hand against his shins. “Anything else you can think of?”
    He leaves the table and finds his bucket. He pulls out a toy plane. “This one isn’t the same as John Wahbuhson.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “This is the F-14. Tomcat.” He holds it up to me. “John