On Thursday, when it starts to freeze

  And hoar-frost twinkles on the trees,

  How very readily one sees

  That these are whose—but whose are these?

  I swam toward consciousness and opened my eyes. Kanga was sitting on the edge of the bed, a loosely rolled cigarette in her mouth. She was puffing on it absentmindedly. The haze from the smoke filled the small, cramped bedroom.

  “You’re awake.” It was a statement. Not a question. She took another drag on the cigarette. “I wasn’t sure you would ever wake up, you sleep so soundly.”

  My head pounded. I reached for my eyes and realized I couldn’t move either of my hands. I looked to each side to find myself restrained to the bedposts by a pair of handcuffs. I pulled hard enough for the cuffs to cut into my skin and send sparks of pain shooting to my foggy brain.

  “Try all you want. You’re not going to get free. Not unless I let you.” She held out a key. She took another puff and stared at the dwindling cigarette, the flame slowly winding its way down the stem and the ash growing. She tapped the end and it fell carelessly to the floor. She sat there, looking at me. I looked at her.

  “Why, Kanga?”

  She answered my question with a question. “Do you ever go to the edge?” She didn’t have to elaborate. I knew what that meant. We all did. “Do you ever go and stare out at the world beyond.” Another puff. “Because there is a world, beyond, Pooh. A world we cannot enter. A world we will never know. Big and bright and perhaps just a mote better than this one.”

  She sighed, then dropped the spent cigarette to the ground. She stomped on the remains with one large foot, and the only mark it left was a dull smudge on the ground. She turned to me. “Have you seen the trucks? The diggers? The construction equipment and pile of woods and supplies that now sit just outside these woods? The sounds of dull machinery and men chatting about their days? The houses that but up against these woods? Because Roo did. He grew up watching his own world shrink, become smaller. He saw the outside world as an escape hatch. A world of untapped wonder.”

  She stood up and began to pace, a sort of half hop, half walk from one end of the short room to the other.

  “It became an obsession, Pooh. It was all he thought about. All he cared about. He would do anything to leave this place. To give up his past and inherit a future. Not even a good one, mind you,” she shook her head. “Just any future, you know?”

  She sat back down near me. I tested the handcuffs again but they were locked tight, and the bed itself was sturdy, I knew that much from last night. She reached out and put her and on my stomach, resting it there gently. She seemed to be thinking of something, because she didn’t say anything for quite some time.

  “I want to tell you something, Pooh. I want to tell you something but I am worried about Roo.” She inched closer and spoke to me, her lips just inches from my own. “I need you to promise me something, Pooh.”

  “Promise what?” I asked. I knew she had me over a barrel.

  “Don’t kill him.” Her voice had an edge to it. “He’s still young. He has his whole life ahead of him. No matter what you find out. You can’t kill him, Pooh.”

  I lay there silent for a minute. “And if he killed Eeyore?”

  “Then you let Rabbit handle it.” She knew that was an unsatisfying answer. “Or you tell the big guy and let him handle it.”

  I snorted. “Like he gives a shit about what happens in the 100-acre wood.”

  “He used to.”

  “And I used to be happy. Or at least too dumb to be anything else,” I snapped back at her. I saw her face and realized I might have stepped too far.

  “I thought we were happy, you know. At least for a little while.” Kanga sighed. “I thought we had something special. Both of us who had lost so much had gained something back. At least, for a few wonderful months.”

  I had to admit it had been a whirlwind of a time. Just me and her. Her laughter as we tried to catch our own Heffalump. Enjoying picnics in that perfect picnic spot. Playing pranks on Rabbit. Even Eeyore had joined in the fun once or twice, and we had rejoiced in seeing the sad guy smile at least once or twice. Even Roo had seemed to enjoy it. Not quite a child anymore, but not quite a man, he had warmed to Pooh at least a little. At least at first. It was only a few months later I had realized far too late the rage that kid had bottled up inside himself. I still remember when he had unleashed that rage in a burst of explosive anger that made volcanic eruptions like Mt. Pinatubo or Mt. Vesuvius seem more like someone bursting a pimple. And I had the stitches and a pile of bad memories to prove it.

  “I won’t kill him,” I sighed. “For you though. Not for him. He’s gonna go too far one day Kanga. He’s going to go too far, and you won’t be able to save him.”

  She nodded. “I know.” She pulled a key out of her pouch and unlocked the handcuffs with a pair of clicks. I pulled away from the bed and rubbed my wrists.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Next time you handcuff me let’s agree to a safeword first, ok?”

  She laughed. It was small. But for a moment I saw the Kanga from years ago. And I was the bear from years ago.

  If only.

  “Roo came over this morning. He kept talking about his big break.” Kanga’s voice broke. “He, he said he just needed to do one more thing. He hasn’t been back since.” I saw the tears in her eyes. “I think something’s happened to him. Deep down I know he’s in something deep.”

  She stood up suddenly. The weight off the bed gently rocking me as i sat up too.

  “He left something. Said it was for safekeeping.” She gestured. “Get dressed and let me know you.

  I put my shirt and coat on and followed her into the main room. Kitchen, living room and closet all in one, the main room was cluttered beyond saving. Off it was one other door. Roo’s room. She went inside and came back out just a moment later. She held a honey jar in her hand.

  My blood froze. I felt frozen to the spot I stood. Because I could recognize that jar instantly. It read “HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY.” Which was how Owl had pretended to be able to write Happy Birthday to Eeyore, years ago when I still trusted that bird to do anything halfway competently. It was, to this day, Eeyore’s most favorite position.

  Was his most favorite possession, I corrected myself. Eeyore was gone. And he was never coming back. She handed it to me. I took it from her with the tips of my fingers and held it out in front of me, as if it might explode any moment. Who knows, maybe it would. But after a few seconds I felt less in danger than I felt silly and so I set it over at the table that doubled as a counter and looked inside. I pulled out one shriveled remnant of a balloon, rolled it in my hands, and smiled.

  “Is that important?”

  “To me?” I answered. “Yes.” I put it aside. “For your son and Eeyore’s murder? No.” I reached deeper inside and pulled out a few items. The first, a note. Handwritten it seemed. The second was a small glass jar with some dirt in it. I eyed both. Then I put down the glass jar and unfolded the letter. I read the short missive in just a few seconds and picked up the jar again.

  “What is it?” Kanga asked.

  “It’s insurance. In case your son got in over his head.” I tucked the note in my pocket. “He was smarter than he made himself seem, for sure.” I tucked the jar inside as my pocket well. “But I have bad news.”

  I could see the anticipation and fear in her eyes. I wouldn’t drag it out. The greatest kindness I could do for her right now is be honest.

  “It’s also a confession.” I tried to keep my voice even, but some of my anger leaked out. “Roo killed Eeyore. It’s all in the note.”

  She sat at the table and broke down, her sobs wracking her entire body. She laid her head down and cried, alternately cursing her own son and calling out for him. I walked past her and out the door. I knew that part of my rush to get out was from a renewed sense of surgery, but the other was simply not to get between a mother and her grief. There would be time for despair. There was always time for despair.

  What could have only been the morning sun hit me hard across the face. Like a slap courtesy of a violent mother nature. I shielded my eyes from the son.

  “Pooh?”

  That high-pitched voice again.

  “Hey Piglet.”

  “I got worried when you weren’t at your house last night.” His voice was even. “I figured you might be at Kangas.”

  I nodded. Piglet was smart when he put his mind to it. “I was.”

  “How was it?”

  The question was stuffed full of other questions, like a Russian nesting doll. It was easy to pick which one to answer.

  “Fruitful. I know who killed Eeyore.”

  Piglet’s eyes went wide.

  “Was it—”

  “Hey bear. Hey piglet.” I turned to see Rabbit emerge from the bushes. “Piglet told me you might be in trouble?”

  I looked at Piglet.

  He looked back at me, a sly grin on his face. “For all I know she was going to kill you, Pooh.”

  I smirked. Once again, smarter than he let on. “I am fine, Piglet. The only thing wounded was my dignity.”

  I turned to Rabbit. “I am surprised you could make time for us, Rabbit. You are always so busy.”

  He hopped over and sniffed. “You’ve been poking your head into everyone’s business, haven’t you?” He nodded toward the woods. “You know, Owl’s gone. Flew the coop, i suppose. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

  “I plead the fifth.”

  Rabbit’s eyes narrowed. “So why are we all here then?”

  “I know who killed Eeyore. And I’m going to find him now.”

  Rabbit shook his head. “I don’t suppose there is anything I could say to stop you?”

  I shook my head. I felt Piglet take my hand. And without another word, we marched through the forest. The woods were alive with the typical sounds and smells of the morning. Fresh dew on the grass. Wildflowers. The crackling of branches and the rustle of leaves. I reached out and felt the bark on the oak trees. Rough to the touch.

  It didn’t take too long for the group to come to a large tree. It looked like all the other large trees in the forest, except it had a big green door at the base. I didn’t stop and walked right up to the door. I could see it was ajar. I looked back, and Piglet and Rabbit simply stared at me. I guess I am taking the lead on this one

  I pushed the door open. It creaked gently from age.

  Roo lay in the middle of the room. My eyes swam in details. The gun. The pool of blood originating at his head. The broken chair. A note resting gently on the table. I picked it up and glanced at it. I called out to the others.

  “It’s safe.”

  Rabbit came through first. He whistled.

  “Another suicide?”

  I choked down the words. Instead of disagreeing with him. Instead of pointing out to him everything that jumped out at me. The placement of the wound. The placement of the gun. The broken chair. Two glasses on the table, half empty each. Instead of pointing out each and every one of those things.

  Instead, I did something I didn’t often do.

  I lied.

  “Yes. Roo must have been distraught over having killed Eeyore in a rage.” I put a hand on Rabbit’s shoulder. “I won’t get in the way on this one, Rabbit. Do what you do best.”

  Two stunned pairs of eyes watched me as I walked out the door. I emerged back into the light, my heart racing. I unfolded the note one more time and looked at it.

  To Edward Bear.

  It was not a suicide note. Or a confession.

  It was an invitation.

  But first, I had work to do.