The Stars Beneath Our Feet: Chapters 25-34

“We’re partial to poetry here. Nothing after the nineteenth century. The greatest poets worked then. I got something for you.”

“One of our most illustrious Black poets! There is no true poetry any longer. No Blake, Keats, Pope....”

Like the rest of the buildings at Rock Center, Tuttle’s had a kind of boring tan Art Deco facade.

“That was surreal,” I said.

“Get his,” Harp ordered Gully, who tried to grope into my pockets.

Lying on my back, I stuck Gully in his jaw, but he acted like he scarcely felt it.

I kept trying to smack Gully, who had straddled me, but everything I did was in slow motion; my fists dragged through water.

The black shape of Rose’s husky body wandered in through the doors.

He talked about enrolling me in a martial arts class.

Yesterday I saw a bunch of the building janitors chasing that scrawny red chicken around with nets.

The tassels on top had started to frazzle.

“It’s my oasis. What do you think?”

And it was more peaceful up here than down on the street. Suspended up two stories made all the city noise disappear.

We both sat there, hypnotized.

But this agitates neither me or Vega.

He stayed kneeling on the floor, face pointed at the tiles. He was heaving now. Like he was about to throw up.

She was comical sitting there in one of the two dresses she owned. She didn’t like wearing dresses at all. Said they made her feel naked and vulnerable.

“I wonder what compels a fully grown man to surround himself with playthings,” he said.

“You think he plays with those frilly dolls downstairs?”

Aston continued, “Little Lolly’s Lego cities were on the news. All over the Web. People across the planet have enjoyed the magic this impoverished child of Harlem created. Magic that originated from here—from your Legos, Mr. Tuttle.”

“Mr. Tuttle, what I’m saying is this: Sure, Yvonne Grayson stole from you. It’s not too late for my clients to return to you all that was taken. But instead of prosecuting the Rachpauls, couldn’t you regard this small incident as not one of thievery, but of sharing? Sharing your wonderful toys with this young boy who has so little and with the children of St. Nicholas Houses.”

“Ms. Grayson’s apologized and agreed to pay restitution, Mr. Tuttle,” Aston said.

Tuttle was stupefied.

Then, to me, “I believe you, Lolly, that you had nothing to do with our pilfered Legos.”

“Richard, you will sweep this whole thingamajig under the rug for me. I am sapped.”

“The cost of sterilizing them would be prohibitive,” Fowler added.

“The cost of sterilizing them would be prohibitive,” Fowler added.

“Your son’s an unconventional sort of young man, Mrs. Rachpaul.”

“Turns out that after testing her, child services said she does fall on the spectrum for autism. For years, her grandmother had been denying it, telling Rose she was just like everybody else, but a couple weeks ago we were finally able to get Rose tested. Child services relocated her to Mount Vernon, just north of the city. There’s a good school up there, near some relatives.”

“Turns out that after testing her, child services said she does fall on the spectrum for autism. For years, her grandmother had been denying it, telling Rose she was just like everybody else, but a couple weeks ago we were finally able to get Rose tested. Child services relocated her to Mount Vernon, just north of the city. There’s a good school up there, near some relatives.”

“That’s a trigger for her. But she’s learning. Being out of the system forced her to refine those social skills on her own.”

He had a clown gig today, I knew, and had to drive us back into New York or he’d be late. He took his time driving down Rose’s block, even though I knew he was in a hurry to get back to the city.

“Even after your depression had started to lift, I just couldn’t stop bringing you more Legos. Back then, seeing you happier—and your ma worry less about you—gave me joy.”

That place would be my exclusive hideaway just to remember him.

I smiled, reminiscing about him now.