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*ring*

...

*ring*

-"Hullo?"

-"Mrs. Patterson?"

-"Speaking."

-"It's me. It's the cro-"

*click*

"Mrs. Patterson?"

"Mom?"

I knew you'd never pick up, you hate talking on the phone, specially to me. You say it's cause I mumble. I say it's cause you've got nothing to say. But then again, neither do I.

Why do I keep calling?

The bedtime stories are becoming real again. The crocodile won't stop smiling, his teeth are ever so big and his scales are ever so bright. Dr. Stanley isn't here to protect me and the crocodile won't stop smiling. He just won't.

Why do I keep calling?

Now he's moved, underneath the dresser. His eyes, two yellow orbs, just stare. And he won't stop smiling. I guess Dr. Stanley has gotten too old for this bedtime story. Crocodiles don't age, but I do. Does this mean I'm going to live with the crocodile forever? Will he ever stop smiling?

I know why I keep calling.

You know where Dr. Stanley is, don't you?

Why won't you tell me?

The crocodile won't stop smiling. Teeth, eyes, moon, sky - such a soothing lullaby.

I've fallen asleep now. Finally I'm safe - smiles don't exist in my dreams.

I remembered a poem I thought I had forgotten a long time ago - you used to tell it to me whenever I couldn't sleep:

Breath deep
The gathering gloom
Watch lights fade
From every room
Bedsitter people
Look back and lament
Another day's useless
energy spent

Impassioned lovers
Wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love
And has none
New mother picks up
And suckles her son
Senior citizens
Wish they were young

Cold hearted orb
That rules the night
Remove the colours
From our sight
Red is gray and
Yellow white
But we decide
Which is right
And
Which is an Illusion

The crocodile always leaves in the morning.

I smile.

Good Morning George

It's been a while, that's for sure. I've been meaning to write to you, but it's been hard with everything happening around here, what with the Hydrangeas just coming into bloom and Ethan going back to school - it's as if life doesn't want this letter to be written. But Ethan's just gone down for his nap and Tito is out for the afternoon, so I've got plenty of time to write of the goings-on around the Kennan household.

Like I mentioned, Ethan's just gone back to school, with much gusto I might add, and comes home everyday with a head full of thoughts and eyes full of colors. He reminds me so much of you, right down to his wry smile and sandy hair. He's got Nana's eyes though, you can never quite pin down the color. Tito took him out to the coast the other day and when they came back, Ethan showed me all the things he had collected - abalones, crown snails, alabaster coral and a curious piece of sea-glass. I still have that necklace you know, it hangs from my dresser - it catches the light beautifully in the morning. Speaking of which, it's quite apparent Ethan's going to follow in his father's footsteps as a man of the sea - but hopefully he will lack the recklessness you seem to flaunt so well. But let's not talk of our problems, they seem so petty now that Ethan has been born.

I received your package just last week; it must've been a right horror trying to get such a large shell shipped all the way from the Seychelles. Ethan loves it, as do I - it now adorns the little coffee table in the east nook. I haven't had much time to read the manuscript that came with it though, mostly just the opening chapters, but I have made some sketches of the photos you've taken, and I asked Tito to take them to the publisher for approval.

I remember when you took me to the Seychelles - it was just yesterday wasn't it? I've never seen such clear water, such blue skies, God they're better than the weather here. Sometimes I just can't stand these Cape Cod winters, the sky is an eternal shade of grey and the wind howls through the bay windows most every night - Tito had to nail them shut last weekend, the latches wouldn't hold. But it's probably best I'm not there with you, there's too many memories. I still think about that summer you know. I try not to, but every once in a while I find some trinket we bought and those days just come back to life. Just writing this letter reminds me of our correspondence we had back then. But I didn't write this letter to reminisce, at least that's what I keep telling myself.

Oh, that's Ethan's waking up, he'll be calling for me in a moment. Time to end this letter - I hope this finds you and the crew in good health. I'd ask you to write back, but I doubt you'll have the time anytime soon. Sorry if I rambled, but that's the status quo with me isn't it?

Goodbye George,

Jess