Dead and Alive

like?”
    Although the troll’s unfortunate face could produce many expressions that might cause cardiac arrest in an entire pack of attacking wolves, Erika found him cute, if not most of the time, at least occasionally cute, like now.
    Somehow his separately terrifying features conspired to come together in a sweet, yearning expression. His enormous yellow eyes sparkled with delight when he considered what else he might like in addition to the oranges.
    He said, “Oh, there is a thing, a special thing, that I would like, but it’s too much. Jocko doesn’t deserve it.”
    “If I’m able to get it for you,” she said, “I will. So what is this special thing?”
    “No, no. What Jocko deserves is his nostrils pulled back to his eyebrows. Jocko deserves to hit himself hard in the face, to spit on his own feet, to stick his head in a toilet and flush and flush and flush, to tie a ten-pound sledgehammer to his tongue and throw the hammer over a bridge railing, that’s what Jocko deserves.”
    “Nonsense,” said Erika. “You have some peculiar ideas, little friend. You don’t deserve such treatment any more than you would like the taste of soap.”
    “I know better now about the soap,” he assured her.
    “Good. And I’m going to teach you some self-esteem, too.”
    “What is self-esteem?”
    “To like yourself. I’m going to teach you to like yourself.”
    “Jocko tolerates Jocko. Jocko doesn’t like Jocko.”
    “That’s very sad.”
    “Jocko doesn’t trust Jocko.”
    “Why wouldn’t you trust yourself?”
    Pondering her question, the troll smacked the flaps of his mouth for a moment and then said, “Let’s say Jocko wanted a knife.”
    “For what?”
    “Let’s say … for paring his toenails.”
    “I can get you clippers for that.”
    “But let’s just say. Let’s just say Jocko wanted a knife to pare his toenails, and let’s say it was really urgent. The toenails—see, they had to be pared right away,
right away
, or all hope was lost. So let’s say Jocko hurried to someplace like a kitchen to get the knife. What happens then is what always happens. Let’s say Jocko gets to the kitchen, and sees some … bananas, yes, that’s what he sees, a platter of bananas. Are you with Jocko so far?”
    “Yes, I am,” she said.
    His conversation was not always easy to follow, and sometimes it made no sense at all, but Erika could tell that this mattered to Jocko a great deal. She wanted to understand. She wanted to be there for him, her secret friend.
    “So,” he continued, “Jocko goes all the way to the kitchen. It’s a long way because this house is so big … this imaginary house we’re talking about somewhere, like maybe San Francisco, a big house. Jocko needs to pare his toenails
right away
. If he doesn’t,
all is lost!
But Jocko sees bananas. The next thing Jocko knows, Jocko is juggling bananas, capering around the kitchen in San Francisco. Capering or cartwheeling, or pirouetting, or some stupid, stupid, stupid thing. Jocko forgets about the knife until it’s too late to trim toenails, too late, the toenails are gone, Jocko has screwed up again, it’s all over,
it’s the end of EVERYTHING!”
    Erika patted his warty shoulder. “It’s all right. It’s okay.”
    “Do you see what Jocko means?”
    “Yes, I do,” she lied. “But I’d like to think about what you’ve said for a while, a day or so, maybe a week, before I respond.”
    Jocko nodded. “That’s fair. It was a lot for Jocko to dump on you. You’re a good listener.”
    “Now,” she said, “let’s go back to the one special thing you would like but don’t think you deserve.”
    That sweet, yearning expression returned to his face, and none too soon. His huge yellow eyes sparkled with excitement as he said, “Oh, oh goodness, oh, how Jocko would like a funny hat!”
    “What kind of funny hat?”
    “Any kind. Just so it’s very funny.”
    “I won’t be able to find a funny hat tonight.”
    He shrugged. “Whenever. If ever. Jocko—he doesn’t deserve it anyway.”
    “Yes, you’ve said. But I promise I will have a funny hat for you within a day or two.”
    Regardless of what difficulty Erika might have finding a very funny hat, she was rewarded in advance for her trouble when she saw his delight, his tears of gratitude.
    “You are such a kind lady. Jocko would kiss your hand, except he doesn’t want to disgust you.”
    “You’re my friend,” she said, and extended her right hand.
    The