Page 40 - Where the Dream Ends ebook

Marc Erdrich

and trees growing up along the curb. There was an old maple
tree outside Harry’s kitchen window. It was where all the dogs
came to pee. In summer, the area around the tree always had an
acrid smell of urine which didn’t stop Cathy, a three-year old
who lived up the street, from eating the dirt. (“Cathy eats dog
mess! Cathy eats dog mess!”)

The tree was gone now; the hedges, too. His mother always
claimed the hedges were a nuisance, everyone pulling at the
leaves as they walked by. The Super wouldn’t clip them unless
she nagged him to death. And as for the tree, the kids were
always climbing in it. “That tree will be the death of me,” she
complained. “You kids — get out of there now or I’ll brain
you!”

In fact, while there was no greenery to be found anywhere
on the Terrace now, its absence did little to alter Harry’s per-
ception that he had stepped into the past. For a moment, as he
looked skyward, he was sure he could see the familiar wrinkled
face and white hair of Mrs. Clarke sitting at the sixth story win-
dow of her apartment in the building across the street.

When Harry was a little boy, Mrs. Clarke sat at that win-
dow and watched him play in the street. She had two grown
daughters of her own who lived with her — spinsters everyone
called them — but for some reason Harry never understood,
there was something about him that fascinated her. She rarely
left her apartment (Harry saw her in person only twice in his
life), but often, when he was playing on the street, she would
call down and toss him a package containing money and candy
wrapped up in a paper napkin. The other kids would look on
enviously.

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