Dreamology(57)

“Of course I did,” Max says. “You were so sad that week. You missed your dad like crazy. I was trying everything I could to make you happy. The fried plantains were the first thing that worked.”

“I knew it,” I say, a little drowsy.

“You’re falling asleep, aren’t you?” Max asks.

“Plains, trains, and automobiles,” I manage to mumble. And just as my eyes are about to close, I see the weirdest thing I’ve seen so far, since my reality and dreams started bleeding. A motorcycle has sped up next to the car, and Jerry is at the wheel, with a smaller bulldog riding shotgun. They’re wearing tiny helmets and goggles. Jerry’s black, and the smaller dog’s hot pink. They turn and stare at me for a second before riding off again.





27


I Like Your Alpacas




THE FIRST THING I do when I wake up in the passenger seat of Max’s station wagon, besides notice how beautiful my surroundings are, all green farmland and stone walls and quaint shingled houses, is wonder why there is a camel wearing a fur hat staring at me through the window. The second thing I do is notice that I am totally alone.

“Alpacas have got to be one of the most ridiculous-looking animals on earth,” I hear Sophie say as I step out of the car and join the rest of the group where they are leaning against a large wooden fence, peering into a field. “He needed a break,” she adds, and points to Max, who is stretching.

Directly facing them and looking about half as curious is a small pack of alpacas, noiselessly chewing on grass. They do look a lot like llamas, except their fur is shorn so they appear to be wearing wide, fuzzy bellbottoms, and the tops of their heads carry chic bouffants of frizzy hair.

“They sort of look like eighties pop stars,” Oliver observes.

“I don’t think they like us,” I say.

“That’s probably because Sophie insulted them.” Max smirks.

“Did Max Wolfe just make a joke?” Oliver waves his hands in front of Max’s face and then says loudly, “Max, are you in there? Can you hear us? Or is this the beginning of some Invasion of the Body Snatchers–type horror flick?”

“Shut up,” Max says playfully. Then in a deep scary voice that surprises all of us, he says. “Or you’ll be the first to die!”

“Another joke!” Oliver cries. “Now this is just getting freaky.” Oliver is still laughing when he falls flat on his face, and then Max is the one who is laughing.

“Dude, did you just trip me?” Oliver says from the ground, and he does not sound pleased.

“Relax,” Max says. “I was just kidding around. I’ll help you up.” He reaches out a hand to Oliver, who moves to take it but instead pulls Max down onto the grass with him.

“What the hell?” Max yells.

And suddenly they are wrestling.

“Real mature, Healy!” I hear Max grunt.

“You’re one to talk, Wolfe!” Oliver sneers back. “What, are you showing off?”

“Are they okay?” Sophie asks, walking up beside me.

“I think so?” I say. “I think they’re just idiots. They have a history.”

Then we hear a voice from behind us that makes even Oliver and Max lift their hands off the ground. “You boys better get your act together. You’re scaring the kids,” it says. We turn to find an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, a navy wool sweater, and high rubber boots strolling toward us. He’s pointing toward the field, and that’s when I realize kids refers to alpacas.

“Sorry, sir.” Max and Oliver stand up immediately, wiping off their knees, like foot soldiers at the attention of their general, which is amusing since this man comes up no higher than their chins. But there’s something about him, an undeniable presence. It makes you listen closely.

The only person who does not seem to be intimidated, of course, is Sophie. “Are you Alfred?” she asks, glancing at the sign that says ALFRED’S ALPACA FARM.

“I am,” Alfred says.

“I like your alpacas.” She smiles, as though complimenting his boots.

“Thank you, young lady.” Alfred smiles back. “Would you be interested in a tour?”

Even though we were on a mission, not one of us says no.

It turns out alpacas are not just fun to look at, they are quite useful. We follow Alfred up over the rolling hill of his property, past his white-shingled farmhouse with a wide wraparound porch, and into a big red barn, while he shares with us the secrets of his trade. We learn that alpaca fiber is three times warmer than wool, and much more fine. We learn there are two types of alpacas—Suri, which come in a range of colors and have curlier locks, and Huacaya, which is the most common breed found in the United States. We all take a turn spinning fiber into yarn at the wheel.

“I made you this,” I hear Oliver tell Sophie under the heavy beams of the barn, holding out a small piece of yarn he just spun. Sophie responds by giggling and walking away, but not before taking the useless piece of yarn with her, and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows at this.

The best part is that we even get to pet an alpaca or two, and I am just bidding good-bye to a sweet one named Mildred when I glance over and see Max, practically nose to nose with another, whispering sweet nothings to it. He catches me smiling and clears his throat, giving it one last swift pat atop its head before walking my way.