Somewhere Beyond the Sea, page 27
“Righteous!” Lucy crowed as he began to dance in his seat without a care about where his elbows might land. Before long, everyone (excluding Miss Marblemaw) joined in, singing, move, hot rod, move me on down the line.
* * *
The village was bustling, crowds of people on the sidewalks in colorful summer wear and large hats, carrying tote bags and coolers filled to the brim with snacks and drinks as they walked toward one of the two public beaches available to those who chose Marsyas as their vacation destination.
Others milled about in front of store windows, oohing and ahhing about overpriced trinkets made of shells and cloudy sea glass, and row after row of freshly made fudge: peanut butter (delicious!), walnut (exemplary!), mint (toothpaste!), and orange creamsicle (revolting!). Crowds gathered in front of mobile carts, some selling funnel cakes with powdered sugar sprinkled on top, others hawking jerk chicken on wooden skewers. An enterprising young woman stood above a wool blanket spread out on the sidewalk at her feet, shouting that she had kites for sale, get your kites here!
No reporters in sight, which was a relief. Though their numbers had dwindled since the aftermath of the hearing, Helen told Arthur and Linus that a few of the more insistent journalists had stuck around, hoping for a sighting of the residents of Marsyas Island, and perhaps a quote or three. Luckily enough, after receiving a tip from an anonymous caller who claimed something cataclysmically magical was occurring two hours to the north, the reporters had piled into their vehicles and sped from the village. The directions were vague enough that the anonymous caller—who could it have been?—did not expect anyone to return until at least early evening.
Arthur pulled the van into the mostly empty lot behind Helen’s gardening store, parking next to her truck. The children all tried to leave the van at once, Theodore of the mind that beings with wings got to leave first. Phee agreed. Lucy did not, saying that if he didn’t get out of the van first, he was going to bring about the End of Days. As it turned out, most of the travelers in the van were used to such bons mots and didn’t pay him any mind.
Miss Marblemaw did, however, furiously scribbling on her clipboard. “Lucy,” she asked as he climbed over her, “what did you mean by End of Days?”
Lucy almost fell out of the van, but stopped himself at the doorway. “Why?”
“I’m a detail-oriented person. I want to make sure I understand everything.”
“Do you?” He leaned forward, face inches from hers. “You know, they say the devil’s in the details. Isn’t that funny?” With that, he jumped out of the van.
“Today is going to be exhausting,” Linus said as he pushed open the door.
* * *
As ever, Lucy was full of surprises.
Standing at the center of attention, he proudly announced that since it was his day, he got to decide what everyone was doing. Rather than something horrifying and/or life-threatening, Lucy told his captive audience that today, he’d planned something special for each of them. Phee and Talia would get to see some new (and definitely not poisonous) plants that Helen had gotten in.
Chauncey was given the chance to show Linus where he worked at the hotel, and what Chauncey’s day-to-day entailed in the exciting role of a bellhop. Chauncey practically shouted at Linus that he couldn’t wait to show him the break room where there was a microwave, a refrigerator, and a wall calendar from seventeen years ago that showed goats wearing hats. Miss August, as it turned out, was his favorite as she was brown and white and wore a daring pillbox hat that really complimented her snout.
For Sal and Theodore, a trip to the library where both would have access to the rare-book section, to be followed by a visit to the antique store where the proprietor had recently discovered an entire jar filled with buttons in storage, and had set it aside for the wyvern to peruse should there be any treasures hidden within.
“As for me, I’ll be hanging out with David and Arthur,” Lucy said as Miss Marblemaw frowned. “We’re going to have whiskey sours and talk about babes.” He suddenly frowned and ran over to Linus, tugging on his shirt. “Psst. Linus. What kind of babes do I like?”
“You can like whoever you want,” Linus said, patting his head.
Lucy looked relieved as he ran back to the others. “And by babes, I mean anyone who looks awesome. I don’t know who it’ll be yet, but when I do, you’ll all be the first to know.”
“Why are we still standing here?” Talia demanded. “I’ve been promised new plants. You don’t want to see what happens when a gnome loses their patience. Last time one did, it led to the Dark Age.”
“Is that true?” Linus whispered to Arthur.
“It could be,” Arthur murmured. “The fall of Rome and upsetting a gnome? It certainly sounds like an age of darkness to me.”
“And that leaves Miss Marblemaw,” Lucy said, and all the children turned their heads toward her slowly, a practiced move that caused the inspector to take a step back. Lucy seemed to catch on to this, taking a step forward, giggling when the inspector took another step back. “Miss Marblemaw,” he said in a singsong voice. “You get to decide who you want to go with. Isn’t that exciting? What will it be? Plants with Talia and Phee? Books and buttons with Theodore and Sal? Bellhopping with Linus and Chauncey? Or,” he said, taking yet another step toward her, “will you throw caution to the wind and follow me into the depths of despair?”
“Despair!” the children chanted, including David, who joined in, shouting with the best of them. “Despair! Despair!”
Miss Marblemaw huffed out an irritated breath as she glared at Arthur and Linus. “You allow the children to go off on their own?”
“We do,” Linus said. “It teaches them responsibility and time management, and gives them the opportunity to interact with our community.”
“Which means they mingle,” Miss Marblemaw retorted, clipboard clasped against her chest, “with humans.”
“And?” Arthur asked. “It sounds as if you believe they should be segregated.”
“Bup, bup, bup!” she trilled loudly. “We don’t use that word, given the negative connotations behind it. Rather, DICOMY performed focus group research and came to the conclusion that ‘voluntary separation’ sounds much better than ‘seg’—that other word.”
“Your tax dollars hard at work,” Linus muttered. Then, in a louder voice: “We will use neither, thank you very much. And as a DICOMY-sanctioned inspector, your role here is to observe and report back to your superiors. Anything above and beyond that is outside of your purview.”
She narrowed her eyes, the children’s heads on a swivel as they looked back and forth between them. “I do hope none of the children find themselves in a dangerous situation, especially when they don’t have adult supervision.”
“Let’s try this again,” Arthur said. “Talia and Phee will be with Helen and Zoe. Chauncey will be with Linus. Lucy will be with David and myself. That leaves Sal and Theodore without supervision. Sal is fifteen years old and both have proven they are more than responsible enough to go out on their own.”
“For now,” Miss Marblemaw said with a haughty sniff. She looked at the children as if she had discovered a new, perpetually wet insect with a thousand legs. Tapping her pen, she let the silence drag on, even as Arthur knew she’d already made her decision. “I will accompany Mr. Parnassus.”
“Lucky us,” Arthur said. “Children, we’ll meet in front of the ice cream parlor in exactly two hours. Please don’t be late. What do we say? Punctuality is not just about being on time.…”
“It’s also about respecting your commitments,” the children said.
“Yeah, that,” David said, bouncing on his heels. “Commitment!”
“And we’re off!” Arthur cried.
* * *
Naturally, Lucy led them directly to Rock and Soul, the record shop owned and operated by one Mr. J-Bone (not his real name; no one—not even J-Bone himself—could remember what it was). On the walk to the shop, Lucy regaled David with stories of visits past, the musical discoveries he and J-Bone had made, and the time a former employee tried to exorcise him in the back room.
“What was that?” Miss Marblemaw asked.
Lucy smiled up at her. “Exercise. We did lunges and jumping jacks.”
“Hmm,” she said, pen flying across the page.
“Is he nice?” David asked as they approached the record store, speaking for the first time since they’d left the parking lot. “J-Bone, I mean.”
Arthur was about to intervene—regardless of the lie they were attempting to pull off, David was still a child, and his comfort was of the utmost importance—but Lucy got there first. He held out his hand, wiggling his digits. David hesitated only a moment before closing his hairy fingers around Lucy’s. “He’s great,” Lucy said. “I wouldn’t take you to see someone mean, unless we were getting revenge.”
David nodded, looking relieved. “Okay. Thanks. Still trying to get used to all of this.”
“And,” Lucy said, “I told J-Bone that we’d come and visit today, and he promised to set the air conditioning as cold as it will go so you don’t get too hot.”
“Why?” David asked.
Lucy rolled his eyes. “Because I want you to listen to dead-people music with me, duh. Oh, and one other thing: when we go in, we need to say ‘righteous’ a lot. That’s what J-Bone does, and he knows everything that’s cool.”
“He doesn’t know me,” David said nervously. “So he doesn’t know everything cool.”
Lucy gaped at him. “That … that meant two things! Holy crap, where have you been all my life? Come on, I can’t wait for J-Bone to meet you. It’s gonna be righteous.” He tugged David down the sidewalk toward the door.
“How odd,” Miss Marblemaw said.
“What is?” Arthur asked, glancing back over his shoulder at her.
“That an adult like David would be so concerned with meeting someone new. One might even say he acted … childlike.”
“Yes,” Arthur said. “I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve lived your entire life being told you’re a monster. Strange how that works. Trauma, as you’re hopefully aware, manifests itself in different ways—some big, some small—and can extend across a lifetime. The fact that you’re trivializing it says more about you than it does about him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a desire to hear some dead-people music.”
He felt her gaze boring into his back.
* * *
“Far out!” J-Bone said, suitably impressed at the sight of David’s retractable claws. “Like, knives on demand. Bet you never have to worry about finding something to cut your bagels. Talk about a blessed life.”
Lucy and David stood in front of J-Bone, a tall and lanky fellow who grinned down at them as he leaned against the counter. For reasons known only to him, J-Bone wore a paisley scarf over a red robe with golden tassels, his long gray-and-black hair pulled back into a braid that rested on his left shoulder. Pink plastic sunglasses sat atop his head, one of the lenses missing.
When Arthur entered the shop, J-Bone lifted the bottom of his robe to reveal orange socks with little red flames on them. “Big Bird!” he cried. “Check out my feet gloves. Thought you’d get a kick out of them.”
“I do,” Arthur said. He extended his leg, placing his foot next to J-Bone’s to show off his purple socks adorned with tiny black records.
“Sock bros!” J-Bone cheered, pulling Arthur into a back-slapping hug that Arthur returned in kind. He was about to pull away when J-Bone stiffened as the door opened, the bell overhead tinkling. “Who’s the square?” he whispered as he stepped back.
“That’s Miss Marblemaw,” Lucy said. “She’s here to make sure Arthur and Linus aren’t sacrificing us in a blood ritual. She works for the government.”
“That right?” J-Bone said, scratching his jaw. “She got a warrant?”
“A warrant?” she asked. “Why would I need a warrant?”
“Uh, no reason,” J-Bone said, eyes darting side to side. “If you happen to see certain … glassware for sale, it’s for tobacco and nothing else.” As if he thought he was invisible, he reached back and grabbed a pungent glass pipe, shoving it in his pocket.
“Yes,” Miss Marblemaw said. “By your appearance alone, I’d have thought the same thing.”
“What’s that for?” David whispered to Lucy.
“Grass,” Lucy said. “Linus said J-Bone likes lawns.”
“Oh. That … makes sense. I think?”
“Hey, little devil dude,” J-Bone said, bending over, hands on his knees. “You’ll never guess what I got in.”
Lucy’s eyes widened as he began to bounce on the tips of his toes. “You didn’t.”
“Sure did,” J-Bone said. “Ella Fitzgerald. Billie Holiday. Live at the Newport Jazz Festival.”
“No. Way. The one where Ella did ‘Air Mail’ and—”
“Gave a scat performance to end all scat performances? That would be the one.”
Lucy threw up his arms. “Yes! Yes. Finally! You know, anytime I want to wipe out the entire universe, I remember that humans made music and then I think that maybe, just maybe, you weirdos have something to offer after all.”
“Gnarly,” J-Bone said. “I’m totally down for saving the universe through music. Like, there you are, this little bundle of rockin’ chaos, and then there’s me, the savior of all mankind. Take that, Dad!”
“Yeah,” David said. “Take that, J-Bone’s dad!”
“I like the cut of your jib, hairy dude with knife hands,” J-Bone said. “To the record player!”
“To the record player!” Lucy cheered, adopting J-Bone’s gait, a sort of slide-n-sizzle, more dancing than walking. David attempted admirably to do the same, but ended up skipping instead, following J-Bone and Lucy to the left wall, where three record players had been set up for patrons to listen to music while they shopped. Going to the cabinet underneath the middle record player, J-Bone pulled out a gold-and-brown sleeve, Ella and Billie in profile on either side. “Some other killer jams on here,” J-Bone said as he pulled the record out. “Ella covering the Gershwins, Duke Ellington. Billie’s got Herbie Nichols on the piano for ‘Lady Sings the Blues,’ and it’s so cool, it’s like ice.”
“Like me,” David said.
J-Bone blinked. Then, “Hell yeah, little hairy dude with knife hands. Exactly like you. In fact, you might even be cooler than that. You know, being a yeti and all. Fun fact! Thought I met a yeti once, but it turned out to be a hairy footstool. To be fair, I was extremely high on—”
Arthur cleared his throat pointedly.
“—life and all it has to offer,” J-Bone said easily. “So it was an honest mistake.”
“Yeah, it happens,” David said. “I mean, that’s righteous.”
J-Bone beamed at him. “Look at you, David! We’ll make a hep cat outta you yet, just wait and see. Now, are you ready to be transported to Newport? Trust me when I say your life will never be the same.” He set the record on the player and lowered the needle. The record hissed and crackled, and then a moment later, tinny cheers were followed by Ella laughing and saying “Thank you!” as the piano kicked in, along with the tsst tsst tsst of the snare and hi-hat.
And Ella began to scat, a brilliant improvisation that caused Arthur’s nerves to calm and his heart to swell, especially when Lucy and J-Bone started scatting along with her nonsensically, more sound than rhythm.
At first, David looked unsure, but as soon as the music began, his eyes widened slowly, his mouth hanging open. When J-Bone and Lucy began to scat with Ella, he turned his head toward them, starting to bounce a little. And then Ella threw in, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore,” causing David to laugh as he shook his rear in an awkward shimmy, his thick white hair flailing around him.
“That’s it!” J-Bone cried. “Feel it! She is a queen. Do be do whaaaaaaa.”
“Arthur!” Lucy called. “You wanna dance too?”
He did, more than almost anything. Without looking at Miss Marblemaw, Arthur slid one foot out in front of him, the hem of his trousers halfway up his calf. He snapped once, twice, and as Ella brought them toward the big finish, he shouted, “Da da didilee dop do bap!”
“Aw,” Lucy said. “It’s so cute when you try. We’ll have to practice more. J-Bone, play it again!”
After replaying the song seven more times, Lucy proclaimed Arthur and David to be scat masters, and reminded them that it had nothing to do with feces, which Arthur appreciated. After all, they had enough shit to deal with.
* * *
David grew more comfortable the longer they stayed in the shop. Though he kept a careful eye on Lucy and Arthur as if to make sure they wouldn’t leave him behind, he started sorting through records, asking J-Bone which ones were his favorites. Lucy sat on the floor next to Arthur, both looking for hidden treasures.
Miss Marblemaw followed J-Bone, attempting to ask him questions about his interactions with Lucy, and if he’d ever felt that his life had been threatened. Politely, J-Bone said, “I’m not a narc, and I’m assisting a customer. I’ll be with you shortly. Thanks for your patience!” With that, he turned back to David, who had picked up a record. “The Clovers? Man, that is choice. Most people dig ‘Love Potion No. 9,’ but don’t sleep on ‘One Mint Julep.’ So smooth, it’ll make you feel like you’re being spread on toast.”
Certain that David was in good hands, Arthur looked back at Lucy, who was studying a record sleeve with a concentration he normally reserved for attempting to create sentient mud men. “Lucy,” Arthur said.
Lucy looked up. “I don’t think I have this one. How many records can I get today?”
“You already have records at home you haven’t listened to yet. How many more do you think you need?”
“Well, when you put it that way … thirty more should be sufficient.”
