The Sumptuous Gift of Dance

275. The Sumptuous Gift of Dance

“It is unfair how people are always saying I do nothing but play golf when all I am doing is pretend to be playing golf so I can exist in peace and quiet. Arley, I only do myself what I allow everyone else to do. Is there anyone anywhere in this island who cannot spend every single second, minute and hour of eternity frolicking?”

“No, Grandpa. No one I have heard of. You encourage everyone to have fun.”

“Do I or do I not forbid any fool who would rather work to work?”

“You don’t forbid anyone to work. Not that I have heard of.”

“Then why do I have to be here now doing what I don’t want to do instead of being home doing as I please? Because I am here. Or am I not?”

“You’re here. And very sour about it. But why are we in this mousehole? You can ask me this questions anywhere.”

“Do you find this place disturbing? Unsettling? Tenebrous? Like your grandmother? Do you think it is a sinister place I have brought you to?”

I looked about me. At the entrance there was dust, and it had made me sneeze. But within, deep within, besides some leather sofas and a coffee table there were even a couple of Tiffany lamps.

“No, I don’t think so. And I don’t perceive Grandma as threatening either. I think she's sweet and cute and innocuous. And cheerful.  Not very effective, but always kind. But I don’t know what we are doing here.”

“She knows exactly what to do to get on my nerves. Listen, Arley, if your grandmother can spend all her time doing nothing it is because I do everything. And do you know why I do everything? Because I can't trust anyone to do anything. You know those harried housewives who have to do everything because they look after a pack of good for nothing loafers who are incapable of fetching for themselves a glass of water and who leave all sorts of stuff strewn all over the house? Those poor women who have to deal with all the dirt these shirkers leave behind? Well, I am that poor woman, Arley. Yes, I. You probably don't believe this can be true because you have never seen me wipe off  dust with a rag, but that is because  what I do id tell the cleaners what they have to do. No, not even, because I hire people who know what they have to do. I know who yo hire. Those who still haven't caught on to the idea that work is a curse. That is the kind of people one must have working for one. I am always contolling everything, Arley. Even if it looks like all I do is play golf, I have everything under control. If you don't see that now, you will one day. One of these days you will understand what I am worth." 

"I've always found you imposing, Grandpa. I can't understand why you do things the way you do, but I know you do them."

"Do you know that Pérez the Mouse has mouseholes built for him everywhere he goes? He never goes  anywhere where he hasn’t got at least one mousehole. Later, when he leaves, he seals it up and has the walls repaired. He asked me for permission to build some here before he came. This is my building. I believe I already said that.”

“So you did. I heard you say that. Is it for security reasons? Fort he mouse and for us to be safe?”

“For the mouse’s safety yes. For us…we are here because I want to be here. I don’t like crowded places. Nor do I like to be exhibitted in front of people who could be crazy. Do you know that everyone thinks I am an enormous being but I am really much happier being small?”

It is true that when people meet Grandpa for the first time they say that they expected to see someone much bigger, like a giant or a Titan are supposed to be. So it must be true that he prefers to look like an ordinary person, because he almost always does. Now Grandpa had also shrunk himself, not just me, so we could fit in the mousehole.

“If you say so. Yes, it could be more comfortable.”

“Look, grandson, if you insist on being useful, there are better ways of serving. You don’t need to prowl the streets beating up people.”

“Beating people up? I haven’t beaten anyone.”

Now was when I was in the total dark.

“You cast stuff at the eyes of the dippy spirit, didn’t you?”

“Ah! I think I cast a used kleenex and the crumpled wrapper of a candybar. I’m allergic sometimes, that’s why the kleenex, and I only throw wrapperss into wastepaper baskets. If there isn’t one at hand, I keep the wrapper until I find one.”

“Yes. And you launched a devilish bird at that simpleton.”

“That too. I had it in my pocket, and I cast what there was there. I’m guilty of that, but in my defence I will say he was about to attack me.”

“We don’t do simple spirits any harm here. Before, we would crown simpletons with garlands of daisies so everyone would know they were not fair game. Nobody ever abused or harmed them. They only knew happiness. We would all take care of them and they needed no appointed guardians. Today they do need protection because they are encouraged to go anywhere and do anything anyone else does. So if they cross the border anything can happen to them. They can end up badly, and to make matters worse this is considered our fault.”

“He was about to attack me, Grandpa. I saw it in his eyes. It might have been the mortal within him. Don’t be angry with me because I used the bird my other grandfather gave me. I didn’t even know what it could do. Seriously, I had no idea.”

“Excelsus knew. That is why he gave you the carving. But he didn’t explain what it was for because he also knew he would not need to. He never speaks unless he thinks it is absolutely necessary.”

“But don’t fuss about this.”

“Before he knows something, I know whatever that something is. My information is first hand. It is delivered to me by the father-in-law of that man who says he is your uncle and who set you to beating people up in the streets.”

“Belvedere? The Memorion?”

“Belvedere is my memory.  Would you like to work with him but for me? We are going to renew the staff. There are some who are quite burnt out.”

“Well, I can’t say I know if I do. Why are these people burnt out?”

“This job is very stressful and absorbing. But certainly more elegant than prowling the streets and confronting monsters personally. More intellectual. Proper for the true elite. You would work with Anatolia and her sisters. Tolly’s daughter, Camelia, substitutes her mother on occasions. She would teach you the trade. There are four observers, but they have their crews. I suppose you know that Anatolia forsees everything that will happen in the East, Dacia, in the South, Polarisa in the North and Zephyrina in the West. They tell their brother all they have learnt and the Memorion tells me all that matters, so I can make the adequate decisions.Like,  this will most certainly happen and there is no way that can be allowed to occur. And when I have decided what is to be, I sometimes give that impertinent person who likes to think on his own and says he is your uncle, instructions, and he and his people try not to listen to me, but they have to, no matter what I say, because whether it pisses them off or not I am the one who decides. That is what I am good for, deciding.”

“I had no idea, “ I said. “Well, yes, but not exactly.”

“Because you have never seen me give anyone orders. Only advice. I don’t like to or really have to. You are going to learn a lot. More than you might care to. And you won’t be able to speak about what you learn with anyone. Well, with the other Mnemosinites. You won’t be able to trust anyone else. They are a very closed community. When they connect, they connect, but when they disconnect, they have to disconnect. There is no taking your work home with you. And no matter how much you may want to, you won’t be the one who decides what goes and what doesn’t. You aren’t responsible for that. In truth, I know everything from the very start, but I prefer to be reminded what matters and what doesn’t and when it matters, because it is very tiresome to be concerned all day with all sorts of nonsense. These people know certain things milleniums before they happen, other things, centuries before. We need to know at least a week before something is to happen to decide easily whether it should or not. Some things cannot be changed, no matter how distressing. Look, Arley, in the end, everything falls into place. That Manolus? The fool your uncle tried to help to make you happy? Well, if your uncle hadn’t put his foot into mortal affairs, that idiot would have ended up with a stake in his heart and would be sweltering in hell like any other meaningless ghost. Just the way he is about to now. And without having given anyone all the trouble he has. And you wouldn’t have had to catch him alive, which he will be only until he riles the demons below and they put an end to his troublemaking forever. You will feel sorry for a lot of mortals, Arley, because you are sensitive and good. But don’t be.Decent mortals have two ways of improving  their state. They can wait patiently till they die having gained access to any one of those better worlds prepared for them by their nicer ancestors or they can unwalk the road their original progenitor took to move away from us. Look at that girl who is your friend.”

“Betabel?”

“No, lad, no. That one is one of ours. She didn’t have enough with her sheep and her sanctuary and she crossed the border to seek for more. She’ll be back if she doesn’t find what she wants out there. I mean the hussy who wants to interview me. The nosey kid who used to be human.”

“Patty Intrepida?”

I found it hard to believe Grandpa had noticed Patty.

“Yes, that one. I won’t allow her to interview me. But I can find her a better job. She won’t need to prowl about sniffing for trash. Don’t look at me like that. It´s what she does. Find trash and spread it. Yes, I know this is information. But there is information and information. You can bring her along with you when you go to work with the Mnemosinites in January.”

“So you already do know I will do that. But what shall I say to Uncle Gen?”

“Ah, that chaser will be delighted because you will be working with his wife. You will be one more Mnemosinite, like all Mabel’s family. Well, not the matchmakers. Those are to be fed apart. And now listen! No, not to me!To the noises in the background. They reach us best through the hole in the wall. We have to return to the shindig. The musicians have arrived.”

Sounds of an orchestra tuning up could be heard. Grandpa and I appeared again in the bazaar, in our usual size.

“Thanks, Pérez,” Grandpa said to the Mouse.

                                                      

I saw how the Fiddlehead Five began to filter through a hideous curtain there was in the middle of a platform till they had materialized entirely before us. Some clapping was heard and Generoso acted as presenter and announced that the first violin would be played by Osmunda “Ossie” Fiddlehead.

The second fiddle by her husband and founder of the band, Fidelius “Fuddlehead” Fiddlehead himself. 

The third by Marcilea “Marci,” their only daughter. 

Her husband, Elkhorn “Elkie” Rabbitpaw, would play the cello without laying a finger on it, and would also be in charge of some drums.

The fifth Fiddlehead, Polyploidy,  was the ghost of a  bear who would bang the cymbals when required.  

More clapping was heard and the quintet started their show with a spirited rendering of Frosty the Snowman.

“I am not a circus monkey. Should your grandmother dare to draw me out to dance, I will shove you onto the dancing floor,” said my grandpa. “That should give me time to make a get away.”

The minute he said that, I spotted Grandma Divina flitting and floating delicately towards us with a rougish smile on her face. How cute she looked! I felt myself pushed and yelled, “Grandpa, I’m no good at this!”

“So I will teach you.”

And I was good at it, I sure was. With me standing on the tips of my toes on the dancing floor, the Fiddleheads finished off I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In and began to play The Lord of the Dance, probably to honour Grandpa, because everyone thought he would break into dance. But it was I who did. I!  People all got out of my way and I was alone on the floor spinning like a top and tapping so effortlessly that Michael Flatley lost his title.

“Wow!” I heard Mum cry. “Is that Arley? He can dance this well?”

“Fool! It’s your Dad, who has bequeathed him the gift!” murmurred my father.

I was so good that even AEternus was surprised. He forgot to run and stood contemplating his work, wondering at how good it was.

“AEternus, you ask to be killed!” hissed my granny, still looking very cute, but now with the eyes of a serpent that hypnotizes.

“Why?” answered Grandpa, as if he hadn’t broken a dish in his life. “Because I have taught my grandson to dance? Now he will have the gift forever. All you people do is carp and clobber me.”