Spring 2012 American Literary
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hands as it approached. Although Mona was scared of whatever-it-was, she hid it well. With a toothy smile she gestured to the ground across from her to sit down and offered the slice of Munster cheese. “Are you a dog?” she asked. The thing shook its head, biting into the cheese with a grin. “Are you a bear?” Again, the answer was no as it took its time, chewing with its mouth closed and all. “Well, are you a cat?” Another shake of his head and the cheese was nearly gone. “Well, if you’re not a dog, a cat, or a bear…” she thought aloud. “Are you an alien?” It squinted at her and shook its head as it ate the last bite. The creature looked expectantly at Mona, opening its hand for more. The little girl looked down in her aluminum lunchbox and found all that was left was a red beet. She held up the vegetable. “This is all that’s left.” With a dainty reach, it took the beet and crunched, quite pleased. “Okay. Let’s try something else: are you a boy?” she asked. And the creature nodded in time with his chewing. “Do you have a name?” He cocked his head to one side, pausing as though he thought it might be a trick question. “My name is Mona,” she told him. “What do they call you?” He gave a rumble, punctuated by a smile. She stared. “I don’t think I can remember that,” she said. “How about I give you a nickname?” His ear twitched and he blinked imperceptibly. “David?” He shook his head. “Ernest?” That wouldn’t do. “Leonard?” He didn’t move. “Leonard, is that alright? If I call you Leonard?” She asked as he finished his beet and again held out his hand for more. “There’s nothing left,” and he stuck out his tongue. “I’ll bring more tomorrow, ok?” He sniffed and made his way back into the darkest corner of the attic. Mona was true to her word and she returned every day bearing lunch and tales from the playground. She told Leonard all about her friends Dorothy and Mary, about how mean her brother was, about her father being away for work so often, about her mother being tired all the time, about everything she was learning in school, and about how she was going to be a great pilot one day. Sometimes she would ask Leonard about his family or about his friends or about what he knew, but he never seemed interested in answering those things. He would
only stare at her or at the food in his paw, but never nod or shake his head. By the end of the first month of their visits, she had learned that Leonard really only liked beets and cheese (although he was willing to eat part of an ice cream cone). She found that he was terrified of birds and the shouting that sometimes came from downstairs. He spent most of his time in the corner but some days she would come up and find him poking his nose out of one of the holes in the ceiling. He didn’t like to play cards or other board games, but he did like to listen when she read from her books. He hated arithmetic and couldn’t stand the sound of music, but he loved crayons and drawing pictures.
“ The once-happy door above
the shelf of forgotten things forgot what it was supposed to do and became dismal once more.” For weeks they played like this in the safety of the attic until it was no longer enough for Mona, who wanted to show him the outdoors. She coaxed Leonard to leave with a trail of cheese all the way out the door. As soon as they stepped outside and there was no more cheese to follow, he panicked and fled back to the attic. Mona was so cross that she didn’t return to see him for several days after that. Finally, one Thursday evening, when it was slightly cloudy out, Leonard and Mona sat in the grass and waited for the fireflies to come out. From then on things had a particular order. Monday through Wednesday Mona would climb into the attic and they would eat lunch and talk about everything. Then Thursday evenings, Leonard would come down to meet her by the big sycamore tree. On Friday and Saturday Mona didn’t come up, although she never said why. Then, on Sunday, she would only poke her head in through the door to leave a piece of cheese or beet. There was an afternoon when Mona came up with tears running down her face. She was so upset that she’d only packed half a lunch, all of it for Leonard. She watched as he ate without saying a word. Once he had finished she said, “Leonard, we’re friends, right?” He stared without a nod or a shake of the head, which Mona knew to mean, “Of course, yes.” “And friends do favors for each other, right? Like the way I bring you lunch?” she said. Leonard gave the same response. “Would you do me a favor, Leonard? A really big favor?” she asked. He didn’t move, but she knew he was saying, “Anything.”