December 2019

A strange man appears in Robin’s house one day and attempts to enlist him in the battle to save the Infinity Realm Robin stared at the orange plaid subway seat across from him, thinking about his father. How he always liked listening to “Yellow Submarine.” How after all that Robin had been through, his dad’s favorite song was still played all across the world. The subway seats went fuzzy as visions and voices swam into focus. It was as if he’d been transported somewhere else entirely without moving an inch, somewhere strange and unpleasant, yet oddly familiar. And as quickly as it came, it left, and he found himself staring at the empty seat cushion, where he saw only fabric and thread and heard only the grinding of the subway wheels. Robin almost fell out of his seat. His head was spinning. He felt like he was going to be sick. As the car took a long lurch, his trumpet case nearly slid away from the grasp of his feet. He lifted it to his lap and went over the notes to a C Major scale in his mind until the speaker called out the stop for Ms. Merry’s neighborhood. Robin collected his things (and with them his thoughts) and readied himself. He had decided not to mention what had just happened to Mrs. Merry. He didn’t think she would believe him. He wasn’t sure he believed it himself. He wobbled off the subway and into daylight. The sun against his skin felt like an electrical shock. How was it that he felt so weak and vulnerable? Robin climbed Ms. Merry’s marble steps and passed the colorful flowers lining them. Birds chittered in the trees. He felt more at home here than anywhere else. The front door was never locked, so Robin stepped into the foyer and listened as the boy before him finished his lesson in the study. He smirked; it was nice to hear someone who was worse at trumpet, even though that wasn’t the nicest thing to think. Ms. Merry welcomed him into the study. Her kind eyes smiled warmly as she offered him a plate of freshly baked cookies. “What did you think about your homework?” she asked. “Was it hard? Was it easy? Do you think you practiced enough?” Robin’s voice felt higher than usual as he replied that he had done his homework and was quite satisfied with his efforts. Ms. Merry’s eyes peered, and her smile was just a little too tight. She always knew things, he thought. “How’s life been lately, Robin?” she asked. “Dim,” Robin answered, suddenly taking a profound interest in the patterned rug. “Oh,” answered Ms. Merry, her tone flat. She tried to catch his eyes but found he couldn’t look at her. “How was the subway today?” she asked. Robin didn’t like lying, but he liked his trumpet lessons with Ms. Merry. So he lied. “Boring.” The lesson was wonderful, as always: his favorite diversion (and perhaps the only one that worked) from all that had happened in the past year. If he concentrated on the flow of air through his tightened lips, the notes on the page in front of him, and Ms. Merry’s sweet, sturdy voice in his ear, the knot in his heart loosened. Only to return, of course, on his train ride home. Home. It was a funny word, home. The place, the people who made up home were no longer all there. Home was no longer home without the missing piece of the puzzle. Washed away by the aching in his heart, he nearly missed his stop. He brushed the gathering tears from his eyes and jumped over the gap between the train and the platform and ran to his front door in the bright daylight. He let the front door swing shut behind him, and he listened to the silence of the house. His mother was still at work, he knew, but he listened, anyhow, just in case a footstep fell or a faucet ran. And then he did hear something; it was so striking and alien his body jerked backward and his heart pounded. The upstairs shower was running, splashing down the drain. Horrifyingly, a booming voice rang out, singing slightly off-key to “Yellow Submarine.” There was something about the voice that made Robin not reach for the phone. Robin felt his legs drift toward the stairs as if he weren’t really in control of them. As if his curiosity had shoved his fear out of the car door and taken hold of the wheel. The shower was switched off, and the singing got louder. Holding a chair high above his head, Robin kicked open the door. The outline of a dark figure with a large stomach in a towel shone through the opaque curtain. “Yellow Submarine” kicked into its chorus once more, and Robin wondered if it would be the last song he’d ever hear. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” Robin shouted and found his voice was steady. The song came to an abrupt halt. “Robin?” the man in the shower questioned. “Dad?” Robin was confused. He couldn’t be here, could he? “No. General X is my name. I am the leader of the Infinity Army.” “The what?” “If you’ll step outside for just a minute whilst I change, I’ll show you.” Robin waited in the hallway as shivers passed through him. “I’d like to be, under the sea, in an octopus’s garden, in the shade!” echoed from within the bathroom. Somehow, having this strange guy in his house felt familiar. A couple of verses later, General X emerged from the bathroom. He had a glistening round face and set into it were a pair of baby-blue watery eyes. He wore a navy blue uniform with numerous badges pinned to the front. This attire made him look very official. “So, what is it?” Robin asked. “Oh, yes, the Infinity Army.” General X put his