Every Living Thing (7 page)

One day Michael arrived home to find Esther sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at the bowl. Esther usually did not intrude in Michael's room, and seeing her there disturbed him. But he stood at the doorway and said nothing.

Esther seemed perfectly comfortable, although she looked over at him with a frown on her face.

“I think he needs a companion,” she said.

“What?” Michael's eyebrows went up as his jaw dropped down.

Esther sniffed.

“I think Sluggo needs a girl friend.” She stood up. “Where is that pet store?”

Michael took her. In the store was a huge tank full of hermit crabs.

“Oh my!” Esther grabbed the rim of the tank and craned her neck over the side. “Look at them!”

Michael was looking more at his Aunt Esther than at the crabs. He couldn't believe it.

“Oh, look at those shells. You say they grow out of them? We must stock up with several
sizes. See the pink in that one? Michael, look! He's got his little head out!”

Esther was so dramatic—leaning into the tank, her bangle bracelets clanking, earrings swinging, red pumps clicking on the linoleum—that she attracted the attention of everyone in the store. Michael pretended not to know her well.

He and Esther returned to the condominium with a thirty-gallon tank and twenty hermit crabs.

Michael figured he'd have a heart attack before he got the heavy tank into their living room. He figured he'd die and Aunt Esther would inherit twenty-one crabs and funeral expenses.

But he made it. Esther carried the box of crabs.

“Won't Sluggo be surprised?” she asked happily. “Oh, I do hope we'll be able to tell him apart from the rest. He's their founding father!”

Michael, in a stupor over his Aunt Esther and the phenomenon of twenty-one hermit crabs, wiped out the tank, arranged it with gravel and sticks (as well as the plastic scuba diver Aunt Esther insisted on buying) and assisted
her in loading it up, one by one, with the new residents. The crabs were as overwhelmed as Michael. Not one showed its face.

Before moving Sluggo from his bowl, Aunt Esther marked his shell with some red fingernail polish so she could distinguish him from the rest. Then she flopped down on the couch beside Michael.

“Oh, what would your mother think, Michael, if she could see this mess we've gotten ourselves into!”

She looked at Michael with a broad smile, but it quickly disappeared. The boy's eyes were full of pain.

“Oh, my,” she whispered. “I'm sorry.”

Michael turned his head away.

Aunt Esther, who had not embraced anyone in years, gently put her arm about his shoulders.

“I am so sorry, Michael. Oh, you must hate me.

Michael sensed a familiar smell then. His mother's talc.

He looked at his aunt.

“No, Aunt Esther.” He shook his head solemnly. “I don't hate you.”

Esther's mouth trembled and her bangles
clanked as she patted his arm. She took a deep, strong breath.

“Well, let's look in on our friend Sluggo,” she said.

They leaned their heads over the tank and found him. The crab, finished with the old home that no longer fit, was coming out of his shell.