To The Forest - Part Eight
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
It becomes pretty clear on the way home that the huge burst of energy we expended in the wild rush to the school - and then the similarly chaotic journey out of the school - has left us all wiped out.
Ralph in particular seems exhausted and happy, something which makes me wonder about what he said earlier. It’s been one hell of a week.
He leans his temple against the window of my car on the ride back, and has to be woken up by Aiden when I pull up in front of the workshop to leave him at his own car. Based on how he’s yawning when he pulls away from the curb, he’s headed home to crash for a little bit. I think Raj, Mel, and Noah are off to do the same. Nik was already fast asleep by the time Raj put her back in her car seat.
Aiden looks tired, too, but I think his exhaustion comes more from being part of something noisy all afternoon. It was probably really loud for him, given the high-running emotions of all the people gathered together. He tenderly rests his head on my shoulder while we’re waiting at a stoplight, closing his eyes.
When we get home, I do a slow, sleepy lap of the living room to check on my house plants. Then I make two mugs of tea, and go upstairs to track down Aiden.
I let out a soft laugh when I find him already curled up in bed. He’s spooning Luna, who gives me a smug look, like - yeah, I took your man, what are you gonna do about it?
What I do about it is affectionately scratch her little grey chin, then set Aiden’s mug on the night table and brush a kiss onto his cheek.
He doesn’t respond, because he’s already asleep.
Well, whatever. I think we’re entitled to a little pocket of laziness, given the full day we had. And the fact we’re hosting Ripley’s birthday slash graduation kickback here tomorrow.
I take a long, slow shower, then pull on some jeans. Part of me wants to cuddle up with Aiden, who looks so sweet and tempting on our bed, leafy shadows dancing on his bronze skin. But it’s a beautiful summer twilight outside, and I want to do some gardening.
My phone starts buzzing on my night table as I drag my shirt down over my head. I pick it up, then stop in surprise and faint alarm when I see who’s calling.
I slip out of the bedroom and head downstairs. Partially so I don’t wake up Aiden, and partially because I’m concerned about why I’m getting this phone call. I’ve only had Emmett for one class, so I hope I don’t already have some kind of parental complaint on my hands. Or maybe she changed her mind about me teaching him?
I’m just not sure, and I can hear the nervousness in my own voice when I answer.
“Hi, Sylvia! How are you?”
“It’s actually Mitch,” comes the surprising, soft-spoken answer. “Um - ‘pologies for callin’ on you out of nowhere like this, but are you at home, by any chance? Me and Emmett were tryin’ to find your house, but I’m at the address and I’m looking at a wall of trees.”
“Oh!” I pause in surprise at the bottom of the stairs, then give myself a shake. “Yeah, there’s a path to get to our house! You have to go into the forest a little. Hang on, let me just get my shoes on, I’ll come meet you!”
“Alright,” Mitch agrees, so I hang up and track down a pair of socks.
Good thing the shower woke me up, because a soft purple dusk is falling, softening everything with a delicate, subtle fuzziness that would make anyone drowsy. The cool air does a little work to get my eyes more open, and the curiosity about why Mitch and Emmett are paying me an unexpected visit does the rest.
I stop still at the far end of the green passageway. Mitch is leaning against the tailgate of his rusty pickup, and Emmett is leaning cozily against his dad’s side. Mitch has one calloused hand resting gently in Emmett’s russet-colored hair.
Both Mitch and Emmett have their hazel eyes on the sky, as if making some calculations about the weather, and both of them are chewing gum.
I press my fingers over my mouth for a second. I can’t help but think it’s sweet, how I found them. Sylvia told me that Emmett and his dad are very close, two peas in a pod - but I hadn’t seen them together before now.
I pull myself back together, then step out of the green passageway.
“Hi, there!” I hurry over to meet them, and they both hastily straighten up, letting go of each other. “Did we have a class scheduled for today? If so, then I - I totally didn’t forget about it!”
“No, no,” Mitch quickly answers, his shy eyes carefully fixed on something just over my shoulder, his low voice almost quiet enough to be lost on the summer breeze. “I’m turnin’ up out of the blue, it’s all on me.”
“Oh. Okay.” I drop my gaze to Emmett and give him a friendly smile. “Hey, Emmett! Good to see you again! Here, follow me, I’ll show you our secret path.”
Emmett casts his curious gaze around as we go down the natural green passage. His dad falls into step beside me, admiring the dusk light pouring through the leaves. I notice that both Mitch and Emmett instinctively reach out to gently feel the leaf walls of the passage with their fingertips as we walk.
“Are we botherin’ you, Jamie?” Mitch asks, sounding a little anxious.
“No, not at all! My boyfriend is asleep, but we’ll just stay downstairs.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mitch winces apologetically. “Suppose I should account for why I’m here. I - I hate to ask, but…”
Ah, right. Mitch doesn’t know me well enough to know how easy it is to get a favor out of me.
“Ask away!” I hear myself answer, before I’ve even thought about it.
“Thing is, I was already in town with Emmett to make some deliveries, but now I gotta go see someone about our crop insurance. I didn’t plan for that. Might take me a little time, and Emmett-” Mitch lowers the volume of his already quiet voice, so that I have to lean closer to hear. “He’s like me. He’s no good trapped inside, especially not in an office, especially just waiting around. I tried Kent’s house, but he and Ellen weren’t there, and I don’t know too many people in town outside of work.”
“Oh!” I think I’m catching on. “You want to leave Emmett here while you handle it?”
“Thought-” Mitch gives his big shoulders a slow shrug. “Thought, hey, we’re leaving him here next week for his first class with you anyways, it was at least worth checking if - only if it’s no bother, though-”
“No, no bother at all!” I answer brightly, as we approach the front garden. “I’m always happy to talk someone’s ear off, and like I said, my boyfriend is asleep.”
Mitch flashes me a grateful look.
“Thank you,” he murmurs quietly, in obvious relief. “Bad enough for me to be cooped up in some office without having him there squirming around, too. Then we’re both squirming. Makes the insurance guy squirm, and you don’t want that, I’ve found.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” I laugh, then stop nervously as Mitch lifts his eyes to our house, our garden.
Emmett beat us there, and he’s stopped to take it in, too.
I’ve always held that people who like our strange oddball of a house tend to be people we get along with, so I watch them for a reaction.
A warm smile spreads across Mitch’s face, and he drops his gaze to Emmett.
“You feel okay staying here for a little bit?” he asks softly, tousling his russet hair.
Emmett doesn’t take his eyes off of the house. But he does nod, and I drop my head to hide my relieved smile.
~~~~
Emmett sets off on an exploratory mission around our living room as soon as we step inside, his curiosity winning out over his shyness.
I close the door after Mitch, turn to face Emmett, and let out a soft sputter of laughter when my eyes fall on him. He’s already got Luna bundled up in his arms, hugged to his chest like an oversized stuffed animal.
“Hello!” he says softly to her, as she kneads her paws into his arm, her blue eyes fixed on his face. “What’s your name?”
“That’s Luna! Our cat.” I watch her purr ferociously, arching a surprised eyebrow. “Wow. She’s not normally so cooperative about letting new people pick her up.”
Emmett looks unsure of what to say to that, so instead he nods at the package he’d been carrying, which he’s set down on the coffee table.
“Dad said to give you those. To thank you. We took them from the extras after the deliveries.”
I carefully pry open the brown paper to find a dozen eggs, some leeks and cucumbers, and a small box of mushrooms. Based on the fresh brightness of their colors, the rich soil clinging gently to the caps of the mushrooms - these came straight from Mitch and Sylvia’s farm, and from the forest surrounding it.
“Oh, that’s so nice!” I look up at Emmett with a surprised, grateful smile. “Thanks, bud!”
Luna obviously wants to inspect the food, so Emmett sets her down and resumes his journey around the living room. He stops at the cardboard box on the dresser and looks into it curiously, then draws back, his hazel eyes widening.
“Oh, shit! You got a bird in here!”
I’m still not used to hearing this eleven-year-old swear, and I have to suppress a startled laugh as I answer.
“Yeah, his name is Jumble! He flew into our window, so my boyfriend and I are looking after him until his leg heals.”
Emmett looks up at me in surprise, then down at Jumble again. His kind eyes soften sympathetically when he sees the tiny, homemade cast on Jumble’s leg.
“May I please take him out of his box?” Emmett asks me.
Again, I have to fight down a startled laugh. Emmett is such a polite little one, which stands in wild contradiction to his unexpected cursing.
I’m about to explain that he needs to be very gentle, but - the last person who needs to hear that from me is Emmett. I’ve seen him handle the birds on his farm. He’d probably know more about how to do it than Aiden or I would.
“Sure, bud, go ahead. He probably won’t let you, though. He’s a wild bird, not a-”
I break off in disbelief as Emmett easily draws Jumble out of the box and into his hands.
The whole reason we named him Jumble is because he spends all day delicately preening his feathers, only to jumble them all up again in indignation when Aiden or I put our hands in the box for anything.
But he melts into Emmett’s hands like a puddle of contented feathers, and lets Emmett gently stroke his tiny forehead with his thumb.
Emmett gazes curiously around our living room, then gingerly looks at me, his hazel eyes growing shy and anxious. I’m struck with the impression that he just now remembered that I’m one of his teachers.
“Hey,” I say gently, going for my most reassuring smile. “You want to sit down for a sec?”
I point to the armchair, then drop to sit down at the end of the couch closest to it.
Emmett obediently hops up onto the armchair, still cradling Jumble, who is still putting up no signs of resistance. I actually think he might be dozing off in Emmett’s hands.
“I’m glad we got this chance to talk,” I tell Emmett earnestly, resting my elbows on my knees. “I’ve known Ellen since forever, but I haven’t gotten a chance to get to know you, and I’d like to. That might help me be a better teacher for you, now that you’re about to join my classes.”
Emmett shrugs his scrawny shoulders nervously. He has sun-darkened skin, and the healthy youthful glow of a kid who gets a lot of fresh food, fresh air - but now he’s gone all pale with anxiety. I get the sense that he’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, and he’s searching my eyes for clues.
I figure it’s probably best to start with something I already know he’s comfortable talking about.
“How are things at the farm?” Nope, hang on, that was too broad, that’s just gonna get a good and nothing else. “How was last week?”
Emmett looks instantly relieved to have a question to answer, but his little voice is still timid and uncertain.
“It was good. Only sad thing was, we had a bear or a wolf or something make off with one of our chickens.”
“Oh, no! I’m sorry, Emmett!” I pause in surprise, noticing that he - seems kinda okay. “Does that - does that happen often?”
“Sometimes, ‘cause we’re a Predator Friendly farm,” Emmett answers, then notices me looking at him blankly, trying to recall if I know what that is.
Emmett fidgets with Jumble, then explains in a sudden rush.
“Dad says that native predators are part of the environment, and our farm is part of the environment, too. He says shooting them doesn’t help with nothin’, anyways. They wouldn’t risk being around people unless they’re desperate, and they need to eat. So we lose some livestock to the wildlife every now and then when we let ‘em roam, but dad says that’s how it should be. The dogs keep an eye on our critters, and we close them up safe at night, so it doesn’t happen too often, anyways.”
I stare at Emmett, startled by the depth of his knowledge about this, then give his knee a gentle, encouraging smack. “Who’s teaching who, huh? I didn’t know any of that!”
Emmett looks taken aback, but he breaks into a pleased smile. He hesitates nervously again, then blurts out -
“I took a picture of the paw prints in the mud on my dad’s phone. He can show you when he gets back. Thought maybe we could figure out what it was. Like a - coyote, or…?”
He trails off, blushing with embarrassment, but now it’s my turn to break into a surprised smile.
“Sure, dude, definitely! I’m glad you’re doing something with our last lesson! Did you show the tracks to Ellen? She might-”
I stop as Emmett suddenly scowls, dropping his gaze to Jumble. His body tenses up in the armchair, his jaw tensing up at the same time.
“Um…” I take a closer look at his expression, thrown off. “Did something happen between you and Ellen?”
Emmett becomes intent on gently fixing one of Jumble’s feathers, carefully not looking at me. But he looks like he desperately wants to talk about this.
I’ve learned from experience with Aiden not to rush him into speaking, so I wait, trying to look open and understanding, until -
“I’m mad at her.”
I sit back and raise my eyebrows at Emmett, more than a little startled. “At Ellen?”
“Yeah.” Emmett swallows, then lets out the rest in a quiet, breathless rush. “I - I told her I was wondering if maybe I should try really hard to get better at school, and go to - to college, like all the other kids all want. And it was like she didn’t even listen to me. Not the way she doesn’t listen when she can’t help it. She looked at me like I didn’t know what I was talking about, then she just - shrugged me off.”
“Oh…” My eyebrows are furrowed with mounting confusion. “Okay…”
“I told her she wasn’t taking me seriously, and she said yeah, she wasn’t.” Emmett blows out an angry breath, making his russet hair briefly fly up from his temple. “She said she’d start taking me seriously when I sounded like myself again.”
I press a hand over my mouth, catching a sudden sputter of laughter just before it can form and escape.
Man, Ellen is really intuitive for a kid her age.
Emmett could not have looked or sounded more miserable or reluctant when he recounted his college-based plan to me just now. I think he’s confused about everything now that he’s in school, finding no other kids whose dreams match his.
But he’s quite clearly at his happiest when he’s on the farm, surrounded by animals, and Ellen understands that. Maybe Emmett knows that, too, deep down. Part of me thinks he went to Ellen with this idea in the subconscious hope that maybe she’d tell him not to do it.
And she did, but with all the grace and tact that can be expected of a ten-year-old. She almost saw through Emmett’s plan a little too well, to the point she didn’t see any reason to pretend otherwise.
Still, I almost can’t believe how easily Ellen read the truth of the situation. She and Emmett are both little grown-ups sometimes, in their own ways.
But at the end of the day they are children, and I’m not surprised that a miscommunication like this happened.
“Ah…” I clear my throat, searching for the right words. “You know, Emmett - I can’t speak for Ellen, but I think she just doesn’t believe that you really want to do that. She probably set you down so hard because she’d be upset to see you doing something that would make you unhappy. It’s because she cares about you, even if she, um - didn’t put it in the best terms.”
Emmett’s hurt, angry eyes glare fixedly at the rug. “Felt like she was just making fun of me. Like I’m too stupid to even try, because I don’t know shit about anything.”
I draw back in surprise, blinking hard. “Does that sound like Ellen?”
Emmett falls silent, distractedly stroking Jumble’s feathers.
“No,” he admits slowly, after a long moment. And then, kind of guiltily, “Nah, she wouldn’t… it’s just - at school, I feel like - it always feels like - like-”
He struggles into silence, but I think I understand.
I’m sure he feels like he doesn’t know anything about anything, surrounded by students who already have the experience of years and years of traditional school.
“Hey.” I poke his arm, lowering my head so I can meet his eyes. “Ellen likes that you’re different, and that you have your own gifts. She doesn’t want you to be like all the other kids at school. Why would she always hang out with you, otherwise? Why would she bother telling you about all the stuff she’s interested in if she thought you couldn’t understand? And, hey - how many other kids at that school know the first thing about Predator Friendly farming?”
Emmett slowly lifts his eyes to my face, narrowing them, like he’s searching my expression for signs of mockery. He seems relieved when he doesn’t find any.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s thinking about what I said.
“I also have a feeling that Ellen is going to apologize as soon as she’s talked this over with Kent,” I add. “Cause, um. Yeah, that was - girls can really take you out with one fell swoop, can’t they? Even when they don’t mean to. They’re so powerful. It’s scary.”
Emmett lets out a startled little laugh, then quickly drops his head again, the last traces of his angry scowl melting away. He twists his mouth to the side, thinking quietly.
“Thank you for talking to me about this, man,” I add, with an encouraging smile.
Emmett blinks in surprise and confusion as he looks up at me again. “Oh. I - you’re welcome?”
He looks like he’s feeling better. I’m feeling better, too, because I’m beginning to grasp what stands behind some of Emmett’s problems at school. If a lack of confidence is one of them, then I have some idea of where to start. With making sure he won't feel that way in my class.
“Hey.” I get to my feet, reaching for my flannel. “I was gonna do some work on the kitchen garden, before you got here. Sounds like something you’re probably pretty good at? You want to help me? It’s nice out!”
He brightens at this, then scrambles out of the armchair to go put Jumble back in his box. “Sure, yeah!”
“My extra gloves are gonna be too big on you, is the only th-” I break off with a laugh when Emmett slips a pair of worn, heavy-duty work gloves from the back pocket of his jeans. “Alright, I take it back. Looks like we’re all set.”
I gather up what we need, then lead Emmett through the kitchen and out into the back garden. His hazel eyes widen in appreciation of the chaotic wilderness of it all, and he cranes his head back to take it all in. He scurries over to trail his fingertips along some leaves, to smell the flowers.
It’s kind of funny to watch him, because once he comes back to me after this little excursion of childish, wide-eyed wonder, he once again looks like a little grown-up. As we get closer to the kitchen garden, he takes out his grey beanie and pulls it down over his tumbled russet hair, pops a new stick of gum into his mouth, and starts tugging on his work gloves. All ready to get down to work.
I kneel down by the kitchen garden and set out a few tiny pots, each one carrying a delicate seedling.
“Tomatoes?” Emmett asks, after taking off one glove to feel the tiny leaves between his fingertips.
“Wow. Yes.” I glance over at him incredulously as he drops to his knees beside me and begins pulling up the little weeds that have come in. “Should’ve known you’d know, but this is so small-scale compared to the farm. I assumed you guys normally do this type of work with machinery.”
“No,” Emmett says, his eyes focused on what he’s doing. “We only got one piece of heavy machinery. We do almost everything by hand, at our farm.”
“What - even tilling and watering and all that?”
“Tilling with hand tools lets you get deeper into the soil,” Emmett explains brightly, his fingers already buried in the soft earth of the garden plot. “It’s doable with our amount of acreage. Dad says it aerates the soil better, and the plants can go deeper with their roots. Our crops don’t tend to blow over in the wind. The roots can reach water deeper down, too, so we don’t have to water them as much up top. Drip irrigation, that’s all we use.”
He pauses, then adds with a soft laugh, “But I think dad just likes working without the machines ‘cause it’s quiet.”
I sit back on my ankles and stare at Emmett, completely taken aback.
Sylvia told me that she and Mitch tried their best to teach Emmett at home, despite what his failing grades on the state standard tests would indicate. I can see now how true that is. Emmett has already inherited a wealth of knowledge from them. Just not the kind that would be any help to him on a state standard test.
“Emmett?”
“Mhm?”
I give his shoulder a gentle shove. “Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you don’t know anything.”
Emmett blinks at me in surprise, then flashes me a very fast, shy smile, getting his eyes back on his work.
He never ends up answering that, but after a while I get him talking to me while we garden. It’s a strange, funny experience to chat with an eleven-year-old about things like heirloom seeds, or what I’m hoping to get at the next Native Plant Swap Day, or about using ladybugs as natural pest control. But Emmett knows what he’s talking about.
I also discover that he plays the trumpet, and that he loves it, which is something I definitely didn’t expect.
“It’s about the only noisy thing I like,” he explains. “Besides being around Ellen.”
He blushes when he realizes what he said, but I let out an understanding laugh.
“Sweet, man. How do you sound?”
“I…” Emmett fades off for a second, looking sheepish. “I’m not that good. Dad makes me practice outside. The animals don’t much like it, either. Mom says it’s nice that I try, though, and that she can tell I’m trying! And it makes her laugh when I play. She says I’m really enthusiastic.”
I was about to protest that I’m sure he’s great, but based on these pieces of information -
“Well, hey, you don’t have to be good. You’re doing it for fun, right?”
“Mhm. It’s really fun to practice and play. My music teacher said maybe I should try another instrument, but I told him I like the trumpet.” Emmett glances up from the seedlings to wince at me. “Ellen wants me to play for her, but - think I - think I probably shouldn’t.”
I have to fight down another laugh. “How long have you been playing, Emmett?”
“About three years,” he answers brightly.
I give a little jolt of surprise, then bite down hard on my lip, that laugh fighting really hard to get out.
I thought he was going to say it’s been a few weeks, or something. It’s actually pretty amazing that three straight years of practice have, combined, caused no improvement in Emmett’s playing. And he clearly has no delusions about that, but he’s also wholly undiscouraged by it. He does it because he loves it.
It makes me want to take another crack at writing some poetry, even if I’m sure it’s going to come out badly.
I cast Emmett a warm smile, full of growing affection for him.
This whole thing is putting me in a bright mood. I always love having little ones around, and it’s nice to have one who enthusiastically wants to garden with me. I also can’t help but laugh inwardly as I try to imagine what on earth Emmett’s trumpet playing must sound like, going off the clues he gave me.
I open my mouth to answer him, then turn to look over my shoulder when I hear scrambling little footsteps behind us in the garden.
Ellen is on her way over, weaving through the tangled wildness of the back garden. Kent is following after her. He lifts one hand in a wave when he spots me.
Emmett freezes, then nervously sits back on his heels, progressively chewing his gum faster and faster as Ellen gets closer. She looks anxious, too, fidgeting with her knee-length shorts, then with the straps of her backpack.
“Hey, Emmett!” she calls out, her little voice full of anxiety.
She rushes right past me and drops down to kneel beside him in front of the kitchen garden.
“Howdy, Ellen,” he says quietly, with a shadow of a smile turning up his mouth.
Ellen blinks in surprise, then giggles a little, already looking relieved. “Can I talk to you?”
Emmett leans his gloved hands on the edge of the garden bed, tossing a stray strand of russet hair out of his eyes.
He’s chewing fast on his gum, a blush spreading beneath the sunburn on his cheeks. “I - sure, yeah.”
I get up to give them some space, then cross the garden in the falling twilight to join Kent.
“Thank you for the text,” Kent says quietly to me, as Ellen begins speaking earnestly to Emmett.
“No problem, boss.”
“I’ve always told Ellen not to listen to any nonsense from boys,” Kent murmurs, looking at me guiltily. “This was a good opportunity to, um - revisit that lesson. Introduce a little nuance to it. Discuss acceptable nonsense.”
I bite back a laugh, looking at Kent sympathetically.
“Glad we could catch him here,” Kent adds.
“Yeah, I had a feeling you told Ellen to apologize when she saw him at school, but I figured this was better.”
Kent winces deeply behind his glasses. “She’s been feeling awful ever since I explained how Emmett was probably feeling, so - yeah, it is.”
“Aw! Well-” I glance over at Ellen and Emmett, who are already back to smiling at each other as they talk. “Something tells me that won’t last much longer.”
This is confirmed about one minute later, when Ellen gives Emmett a big hug, then comes rushing over to ask Kent if she can stay, so long as Emmett’s dad can drop her at home when he comes back for him.
Kent leaves the kids with me, and I can tell that everything between them is all better when I come to join them at the kitchen garden. Emmett looks immensely relieved, and so does Ellen.
She sits up like she just remembered something.
“I brought you something, Emmett,” she says in a rush, unzipping her backpack.
She takes out what was surely her entire allowance, probably more - a kid’s-sized, beginner’s hydroponics kit.
Emmett stares at it, then lifts his gaze to Ellen, a sudden, glowing smile on his face. “You - for me?”
“Because I know you’re smart,” she insists, looking at him with pleading eyes. “At - at growing things, and I thought you would like it-”
“El,” Emmett laughs, then bites his lip. He looks down at the box again, taking in the pictures with obvious curiosity. “We can do it together, right?”
Ellen smiles at him in relief. “I thought maybe Jamie could show us how. Can you, Jamie?”
“Sure, once we finish this up,” I answer brightly, pushing my hair out of my face with the back of my wrist. “Are you gonna help us, El?”
“No, I just took a shower and I don’t want - Emmett, no!”
She giggles and scrambles backwards as he holds out his muddy hands to her like a zombie. Emmett and I laugh, too, and that’s how I abruptly remember that Aiden is asleep upstairs. I glance up at our bedroom windows, preemptively wincing.
My eyes find Aiden leaning through an open window, resting his elbows on the sill. His face is lifted to the caressing summer breeze, his sleep-tousled hair falling over his eyes.
Rich golden light is glowing out from the window, suffused into the purple twilight air. Heliomancer light, with its singularly unique, breath-stealing beauty.
The cup of tea I made Aiden is loosely grasped in his hands, but he looks like he’s forgotten about it. His eyes are closed, two dark fringes of long, fine lashes.
He’s not looking. He’s listening.
I can’t tell if he’s listening to soul notes, or if he’s listening to what’s happening out loud - my voice, tangled up with little voices in the garden.
Whatever it is, Aiden looks like he’s in heaven, a blissful smile lingering on his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
He looks like he could stand there and listen to this forever.
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