“I’ve come as a ventriloquist,” I said, trying
not to stammer. “This is my doll.”
I pulled my right hand out of my coat pocket
and showed them I had a little finger puppet dressed in a grey suit, with
painted black spectacles and a white beard.
“Why, the doll is Dr. Freud,” said Titania,
peering up close at the doll on my index finger. “What an original idea. Are
you going to entertain us?”
“Yes. Especially you and Dad. I don’t know if
you are aware that this summer while I was in London for the Fayolympics I took
the opportunity to visit Dr. Freud at his home there, which is now a museum.”
Mum and Dad shook their heads.
“As everybody knows, I have persistent nightmares
that don’t allow me to enjoy life like the average fairy would and I felt it
was time I learned what they were about, so last Christmas I asked the Magi for
a consultation with Dr. Freud and the gift they gave me was a check to pay for
it. But I also wanted to help Mr. Binky by giving him money to finance his
school just as the parapsychologists Gemaniah and Minafer had suggested I do.
“I couldn’t help both myself and Mr. Binky,
because all I could honestly spend would be the amount Dr. Freud would charge
to receive me. I decided that if it were small, I would use it to help myself.
But if it turned out to be big, I would use it to help Mr. Binky.”
“Reasonable,” nodded my Dad.
“So I asked Dr. Freud, who happened to be at
home when I called, how much he would charge me for a consultation. I thought
it would be a lot of money because psychiatrists are said to be very expensive,
but he hasn’t raised his fees since the year he died.”
“Very nice of him,” said my Dad.
“It was ridiculous to think I could finance Mr.
Binky’s school with such a small sum. So I asked the good doctor for an
appointment and he said he could receive me there and then because it was
Sunday and on Sunday he doesn’t drop down to Hell to see his patients, most of
which reside there until he is done curing them. But he said it was okay for
him to work on Sundays because he was born Jewish. So he was free to attend me.”
“Lucky,” said Dad.
“I lay down upon his couch and told him all
about my nightmares and he said it was all crystal clear to him. He said he had
never seen as clear a case as mine since he had studied Hamlet’s, and he
wouldn’t take my money because mine was a truly elegant case and he would like
to use it as a classic example with my permission, of course.”
“A case of what?” asked my mother. Perhaps it
was suggestion, but I thought she sounded a little mistrustful.
“With your permission, I will allow Dr. Freud
to explain to you himself what he has concluded about my nightmares.”
And the finger puppet began to speak.
Dad was speechless, but eyeing Mum from the
corner of his eye.
“The queen intends to protect her subjects from
human expansionism creating an ultra luxurious reserve on this island. Apple
Island is the place where the lady wishes to keep and protect her people like a
mother keeps and protects her child in her womb. And since the patient cannot
rest peacefully in his mother’s womb, that is in Apple Island, it is clear he
doesn’t think he belongs there. He thinks he belongs in a human womb, as
symbolized by the car and the garage of a human female, which is the place
where he can rest in relative peace. To get rid of his nightmare, he must find
out where he really belongs.”
Dr. Freud had spoken. I looked up, I saw my
mother had not fainted nor anything. She was merely staring at me as if she
weren’t sure what would come next.
“When my nightmare begins,” I said, “ I find I
am inside a box with a half-raised lid. The box is moving forward in space and
I feel a little strange because it is dark and I don’t know where I am going. I
look up and suddenly I see something round and white that pours light on me.
“And I know it is the moon, but I don’t really
know that because I haven’t seen it before. As if I had never been out at night
before and I am wondering what the thing is. I sense – I know – there are
people present near me, but they are silent. Very, very silent, advancing,
moving forward in dead silence. Suddenly, the light and the silence shatter
like glass.
“What I hear is crying. Not sad crying, but
angry, hysterical crying. Demanding crying that gets louder and louder and
becomes utterly unbearable. Someone is in a rage, but doesn’t say, or can’t
say, why. My ears hurt. And when I think I can’t bear to hear the wailing and the bawling any longer, the box I am in comes to a halt with a screech and a
jolt and a woman’s voice rises above every other noise and says ferociously, ‘Over my dead body will they take my child!’
And then an army of mortals appears out
of nowhere and attacks us as if they were zombies after our brains. And, as
some of us fall, others defend themselves and chain captured humans in a long
line. By the waist, because their arms have been cut off. And it is horrible to
see all this. And I wake up bathed in cold sweat.”
“That was
me!” Aislene pushed her way up to the front of the crowd that had
gathered around me. “I howled that over my dead body would I give up my baby
when we were about to exchange Alpin for a human child!”
“You? I thought it was my human mum!” I exclaimed.
“Oh, my poor Arley! All this time you thought
you were the baby we were going to take in exchange of Alpin!” cried Aislene.
“Titania,” said my dad, “I told you we
shouldn’t have taken Arley along with us that night. The first time you see the
moon should be a beautiful experience. You should see it full up in the sky but
also reflected in a tub so you will think you can have it. It’s a good idea to
taste your first ice cream while you’re meeting the moon. Vanilla, of course.
It’s lighter for children.”
“All you think about is eating. And don’t come
near me with that sticky web,” replied my mother.
“Maybe I do. I’m thinking your web isn’t as
delicious as mine,” replied Dad.
Mum ignored his remark.
“I took Arley along with us in a buggy because
I couldn’t bear to think someone might steal him from me while we were
exchanging Alpin,” she explained. “Why do you think I gave in when Aislene
insisted on keeping her baby against thousands of years of tradition?”
“Then I’m truly yours, Mum?” I asked. “I don’t
have to go find my real family and become a human again to make my people
happy?”
“Ho, ho,
ho!” laughed my Dad. “What an imagination this child has!”
“It’s not funny,
you fool!” scolded Mum. “Stop laughing this minute! And you, Arley, both you
and Alpin are with us. How could you think we had taken a child without leaving
another in its place? No decent fairy has ever done that. Ogres and such, well,
we know what they are like, but not decent fairies. So why would we steal a
child if we had decided not to get rid of Alpin?”
“I thought maybe since you had already chosen
the child that was to substitute Alpin you felt sorry it wasn’t going to have
the chance to become better than human and so you took him anyway. But is it
decent to exchange a dreadful child for a nice one? Without giving the nice
kid’s parents a choice? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“We’ve always had our doubts,” said Dad. “But
there are reasons for this tradition that can be explained by history. We
always send people we don’t like into exile, and it seems that back in the
beginning of time we got rid of people who degenerated into the first humans.
We think that en egotist who is born among us is more like them and is better
off among them.”
He cleared his throat a little and went on
explaining about changelings.
“When we give human parents a bad child and
take their good one, at first they seem to have a bad bargain because the bad
child ruins their lives. But this doesn’t last long. When it sees they have
nothing left to give, the wicked child runs away as soon as it can and goes on
being a force for evil elsewhere. But think of all we do for the nice child
that humans could never do. And we see to it he or she remains nice. Even the
best of human children can easily become odious beings when they dwell among
mortals. But the child we save grows up to be considerate and often does a lot
to help his human family when it is old enough to. That should compensate. All’s well that ends well, eh, Arley?” finished
Dad, patting my head.
“I suppose so, but...”
“Enough!” scolded Mum. “It’s not your case. Put
an end to your absurd doubts. This is a party and people want to have fun, not
listen to you rant and rave about your delusional ideas.”
“Has anybody asked me how I feel about this?” Alpin suddenly shouted.
He came up to where my parents stood and shook
a finger at them menacingly.
“Well, in case anyone is interested, I have no
absurd doubts. I’m sure I feel offended. I’m not that dreadful a being. Nor is
Arley such a nice child. Look at the fuss he is making. I’m the one who should
be traumatized here, with all those insults. What will you give me to make up
for it? I intend to sue.”
“That’s what I get for being kind,” Mum said to
Dad. “I’m leaving. I was radiant when I arrived but now I need to get some
sleep. I’m sure I’m looking faded. I’ll deal with this the day after tomorrow.”
“Don’t you worry,” said Darcy, pushing his
younger brother behind him. “I’ll ask Alpin to forget about suing you. It’s
more our fault than yours that he is among us.”
And then my sister Thistle pulled off the sheet
that made her an invisible ghost.
“I don’t understand you, Darcy,” she said. “If
nobody can say no to you, why don’t you just ask Alpin to stop spoiling
everything for everyone? Or Arley to stop being such a fusspot?”
Darcy bent down on one knee so he could look
Thistle straight in her green eyes as he gave her his answer. “Because I have
no idea what would happen if I did,” he said, very seriously.
Thistle shook her head, unconvinced.
“Alpin might need to eat so voraciously to
survive. And Arley may have a right to be heard. I can’t just ask for the first
thing that pops into my head. Thistle, I have to be responsible, just like
anyone else. Maybe more.”
“But you do everything Mum asks you to.”
“Your mother and I have an agreement. I
promised to give her my support if she allowed Alpin to live among us. She
promised to make only good use of my promise. If we hadn’t made a pact, my mum
would have moved away with Alpin and deserted the rest of us. Or we would all
have had to go live among outlaws and evildoers. My father would have had to
resign from his job, etc. Thissy, my gift may make it look as if my life should
be a bed of roses. But roses have thorns.”
Darcy shrugged and Thistle shrugged too.
“I could say you are a fusspot too. But I
suppose you could ask me to stop telling you how to use your gift,” said
Thistle. “So I will. But...my sister and
I baked a cartload of cookies for this party and your brother ate practically
all up. Heather and I want to bake a sleigh load for Christmas.Can you at least
ask him to eat only half of that?”
“That I can and will do,” smiled Darcy, as he
rose to his feet. And everything around and about him glittered as always
happens when the Dark Man smiles or laughs.
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