Amberville - By Tim Davys Page 0,54

in two ways.

The first answer is: never.

The second answer is: at the same moment that they started school and Eric had the chance to compare his twin brother with others who were the same age. But by avoiding judging his brother’s singular manner in terms of right or wrong, life went on.

Sometimes it was absurd. In his teenage years it was not uncommon for Teddy to do and say things that appeared patently peculiar. Eric defended his brother by refusing to react to these peculiarities, and together the brothers seemed like certifiable lunatics. Even if Eric didn’t know what would happen if it was openly acknowledged that something was wrong, the thought frightened him.

Boxer Bloom was a fundamentalist, a conservative on the border of being a reactionary animal in all questions except political ones, where he gladly appeared to be liberal. Teddy Bear’s eccentricities became more extensive the older Teddy got. The boxer became more and more irritated. Rhinoceros Edda’s understanding for Teddy was exceeded only by her desire to smooth things over.

“I can’t eat this,” said Teddy suddenly one evening when all four of them were sitting in the kitchen on Hillville Road, having dinner.

The twins had recently turned fourteen and they were in the eighth grade. Teddy and Eric had spent the last weeks of summer vacation at Hillevie’s sailing camp. Since they’d come home from camp and the family had moved into Amberville again, Boxer Bloom had done his best to pretend as though everything were fine. He imagined to himself that Teddy had undergone a magic metamorphosis over the summer, and that everything would finally be…normal. Now he was getting desperate. It had nothing to do with food. The reminder that they would be forced to live with Teddy’s lack of accountability and compulsive thoughts for yet another year was more than Boxer could bear. When Teddy pushed aside his plate and awkwardly looked down at the table, something burst inside Boxer Bloom. With suppressed rage he muttered, “You can’t eat?”

“Papa,” said Teddy, who, like Eric, heard how angry his father was, “that’s not the idea. I…I just can’t.”

“It’s a tomato salsa, potato casserole, and veal cutlet,” Boxer informed, “that your mother has devoted hours to preparing. And which you have eaten a hundred times before.”

“Well,” objected Mother, “perhaps not that many times…”

“Why doesn’t it suit you just now?”

Boxer stared fiercely at the cub.

“If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t have to, does he?” said Eric. “He’s eaten the salsa and the casserole. Maybe he’s full?”

“It’s got nothing to do with that,” said Teddy.

“Well, now,” thundered Bloom. “So what does it have to do with?”

“It can’t be right to kill a calf,” Teddy almost whispered.

And Boxer struck his paw on the table and got up. He appeared massive where he stood looking down at them. He held one paw pointed right at the cub.

“And what in the hell do you mean?!” shouted Bloom.

But in the moment following, before Teddy had time to reply, despite the fact that the tears were already rolling down his cheeks, Eric unexpectedly flew at his father.

Mother screamed, Father cried out and staggered backwards out toward the living room. Eric was hanging around his belly in something that resembled a convulsive hug.

“No more!” shouted Eric. “No more now.”

Eric didn’t care about the veal cutlet and his crazy brother. Feelings of impotence had built up for several weeks, just as long as Bloom had tried to imagine that everything would be fine, and finally here was the violent, physical release.

It should be said in Boxer Bloom’s defense that he did not forcibly attempt to free himself from his cub. When he regained his balance he simply stood completely still until Eric released his hold. And they remained standing like that, staring at each other, the cub openly aggressive, the father more surprised. Before they recovered enough to say anything to each other, Teddy got up from the table out in the kitchen. The sound caused Eric to turn around, and he saw his twin brother running up the stairs.

“There are limits,” said Bloom flatly. “A limit for when it’s gone too far and we can’t take care of it ourselves any longer.”

Eric turned around again and stared into the dog’s eyes.

“Your love ought to be boundless,” Eric whispered scarcely audibly, “but it never has been.”

Whereupon he turned and ran up the stairs after Teddy.

Emma Rabbit turned around in the bed.

Eric Bear gave a start, restored in an instant to the present. He looked