Chapters 28 and 29
The Ancient Scroll & Thanksgiving at Melba's
The Ancient Scroll
Then there arose a cackling laugh from the back of the ballroom. The Queen of the Bed and Breakfast was doubled over, laughing. The guests turned to look at her.
“It’s too late now,” she said, her shrill voice rising above all sounds, silencing them. “You’ve missed your Destiny! You forfeited your Destiny to live in the suburbs with a gecko! And now you’re nothing. A middle-aged PTA mom.” And she laughed and cackled some more, while a scandalized sort of murmur rippled through the room.
“It’s her!” Prince Philip said. “It’s the dragon lady! I will vanquish you now, Dragon Lady!” he said, but before he had a chance to draw his sword, the Bed and Breakfast Queen turned herself into a bat and flew to the ceiling and began circling the chandelier. Everyone in the room screamed and cowered and hid under tables, except for Philip, who went to the kitchen to look for a broom, and Erma, who stood on one of the tables and, with a single slap of her paw, killed the bat.
The bat fell from the ceiling to the floor. Everyone who saw drew away with disgust, but Erma picked up the bat and ate it.
Aurora got out from under the table where she’d been cowering with Marie and looked at her husband. He looked at her. Destiny had been strange and unforeseen and somewhat anticlimactic.
After a few minutes—amid murmuring and whispering and people emerging from under tables and chairs– Candide took the stage, adjusted her glasses, and unfurled an ancient scroll. “Excuse me, can I have your attention please, ladies and gentleman?” The whispering and murmuring quieted. The chairs squeaked and scraped the floor as people took their seats.
“I have here an ancient document of the Kingdom,” Candide continued, “which stipulates that ownership of the castle is conferred from royal parents to royal children for perpetuity. The castle may be sold by the royal family to pay debts, but if that owner dies or abandons the castle, ownership will revert to the royal family.
“And if the person to whom the castle is sold happens to be a notorious evildoer, the bill of sale is rendered null and castle ownership reverts to the royal family. I have here—can I have your attention please—a legal document which states that the current owners of Castle in the Cloud Bed and Breakfast—have been legally declared Notorious Evildoers because of their involvement in illegal animal trafficking—that is, the capture of and/or luring of animals under false pretenses; the unlawful imprisonment of animals in dungeons with unhealthful conditions, including an unchecked mold problem, which has led to the respiratory difficulties of at least one alligator; the false imprisonment of guests who show up at the B & B without a reservation; forced dance lessons of human prisoners with dangerous animals; and unsolicited relationship advice.
“Having been legally certified as Notorious Evildoers, I hereby de-throne the false King and Queen, and re-confer ownership to King Stefan.”
There was a smattering of polite applause, and then King Stefan took the microphone and spoke:
“Queen Leah and I have decided that we would like to retire on the African island of Zanzibar, and so we hereby confer ownership to Philip and Aurora and their descendants, for perpetuity.”
Aurora and Philip walked, in a daze, to Candide, where Canari and Violente stood waiting, with two crowns. They placed the crowns on their heads, and there was applause, and fanfare, and more eating and drinking and dancing late, late into the night, as well as many threats of lawsuit from the late Queen Bat’s husband, who had just awakened from his essential oil stupor. And when it was all over, people retired into their own rooms with adjoining bathrooms, each with complimentary toothbrush, toothpaste, and shampoo and conditioner in miniature bottles.
The next morning, after saying goodbye to their friends, Aurora and her husband and their children piled into the Jeep Cherokee and drove home to pack and put their house on the market.
Twenty-Nine: Thanksgiving at Melba’s
Aunt Melba lived on Juniper Mountain, in a little trailer pressed up against the woods. Her lawn was full of ornaments—garden gnomes, flamingoes, blow-up Santas and reindeer with a plastic light-up nativity scene—plus old furniture and rained-on cardboard boxes full of moldy clothes and papers and things that had once belonged to some ancient, nearly-forgotten ancestor.
The inside of the trailer was just as festive and full as the outside. Endless figurines were displayed on shelves. Completed puzzles hung in frames on the walls: a little red barn, horses, kittens playing with string. There was a fully-decorated Christmas tree, of course, and strings of lights, and cardboard cut-outs of elves and reindeer dangling from hooks in the ceiling.
They ate their meal on red and orange paper plates and drank Kool Aid from red plastic cups. The kitchen table was covered with a huge blanket with a cross-stitched turkey in the middle. There was no high chair, so Aurora sat on Leah's lap, occasionally throwing pieces of turkey and lumps of mashed potato on the floor, eliciting the occasional glare from Aunt Melba.
After the food had been eaten and the dishes cleared, Louella dozed off in Melba's big brown leather recliner. After she'd been snoring about twenty minutes, Aunt Melba covered her with a quilt and turned to Leah and said, “Let's get the food packed up and get going.”
“Where to?” Leah asked.
“To the zoo.”
“The zoo is closed today.”
“I've got a master key.”
Leah decided not to question Melba any further. They packed up the food in plastic containers, stacked it all in cardboard boxes, and loaded it into the backseat and trunk of Melba's Ford Escort. They put the baby in the car seat and wedged a small fold-up stroller into the middle, above the parking brake, and drove through the nearly-deserted streets to the City Zoo.
It was dusk when they parked the little car outside the tall black gate.
Melba looked around discreetly, and while she was unlocking the gate with an obscure little key on her key ring, she whistled, something halfway between a wolf-whistle and a bird call. Leah took Aurora out of the car seat, put her in a stroller, covered her with a blanket, and pushed the stroller back and forth to quiet her, as she waited to see what would happen.
Melba opened the tall black gate a crack, poked her head in, and continued to whistle. She looked back at Leah. “They're coming.”
“Who?” Leah asked.
“Spider monkeys.”
Leah peeked through the opening in the gate and saw four small dark figures ambling quietly toward them. When they reached the entrance, Leah could see, under the streetlight, that they were indeed spider monkeys. Leah instinctively—yet very softly and unobtrusively—moved the stroller so that it was positioned behind her and Aunt Melba.
“Sshhhhh,” Melba said, with her finger on her lips, looking first at the monkeys, then at Leah. “We have to be very quiet or we could get in big trouble. Guys,” she said, addressing the monkeys, “we need help with some boxes. Wait here with the baby, Leah.”
Melba walked softly to the trunk and opened it. The monkeys deftly lifted the boxes and noiselessly carried them into the tall black gate. Leah entered behind Melba—after ensuring that she was a safe distance from the monkeys—and Melba locked the gate behind them.
“You guys can keep one of them,” Melba said. “Take the other three to Erma.”
The monkeys started laughing and chattering, and they split up in four different directions, carrying the boxes of food.
“I knew they would do that,” Melba said. “They'll give one box to Erma and keep three for themselves. They're either selfish or they don't understand numbers very well.”
They took a leisurely walk through the zoo. In some places, it was dark and silent; in other places, the lights were on. When they reached the central courtyard, there appeared to be a cocktail party of sorts happening: There were chimpanzees, giraffes, donkeys, and various large birds eating hors d’oeuvres on small plates—little pieces of cheese wrapped in meat—and they were drinking something from clear plastic cups.
“I hope that's non-alcoholic,” Melba remarked to some exotic bird who wore a feathered hat with a veil and sparkly bangles all up one leg.
“What's it to you?” The bird said.
Melba sniffed. “Where's Mrs. Bear tonight?”
“She didn't feel like coming out. She wanted to stay in and watch TV. It's getting close to that time, you know.”
Melba leaned toward Aurora and whispered, “She means close to hibernation time.”
“Well, hope y'all had a Happy Thanksgiving,” Melba said.
“Not much to be thankful for in this place,” a donkey remarked.
“Could be much, much worse, my friend,” Melba said.
“Easy for you to say,” the donkey answered, turning her head away.
They continued to walk through the zoo, through dark and silent places, through noisy and light places, and then they came to the glass bear enclosure, which was a dark and silent place. Leah couldn't see any of the bears, but through the glass, she could see the basic shapes of trees and branches, caves, and little pools of water.
But when they came to the American black bear, instead of leaves and trees and caves, there was a cozy little room, with a soft light coming from a floor lamp. The room was open at the front, like a stage set. There was a bed against the wall, where the bear was lying, under a pile of quilts and blankets. She could see the top of the bear's head, covered with a flowered cap. Across from the bed, on the other wall, there was a little writing desk with a pad of paper and pencils in a cup. There were a bunch of wildflowers in a vase, a small bookshelf full of books, and a rocking chair in the corner. There was a shelf on the wall at the front of the bed, where a little black and white TV was blaring.
Melba knocked softly on the glass.
The bear did not move, though Leah could see the rise and fall of the bear's body under the blankets.
Melba knocked again. “Erma!”
Melba knocked again.
The body under the covers began to stir. The blankets began to move. Leah saw two great furry feet at the foot of the bed, and finally, the bear sat upright and turned toward Melba.
“Were you sleeping or watching TV?” Melba asked.
“Both at the same time.” the bear replied with a touch of growl in her throat. “Come on in,” she said. “I'm not exactly decent,” she added, pulling a robe down from a nail on the wall and covering her pink flannel nightgown.
Melba quietly and deftly unlocked the bear's enclosure and slipped inside, holding the door open for Leah and Aurora. A spider monkey, who had been waiting quietly outside the enclosure, scrambled in after them, setting the box of food on Erma's table.
Then he scrambled out and down the dark hallway.
“Thanks, Hank!” Melba called after him.
Erma was sitting on the edge of her bed, cleaning her glasses.
“How you feeling?” Melba asked.
“Fine. Just because I'm old doesn't mean I'm sick. “
“I know that,” Melba said. “Have something to eat.”
Erma slowly got up and made her way to the little table. She sat down on one of its straight wooden chairs, opened the containers, and began to devour the food at a speed that was shocking to Leah, who was still standing awkwardly with her back to the glass wall, next to Aurora in the stroller.
Melba and Erma seemed to have forgotten her.
Then Aurora became restless and fussy. Leah lifted her out of the stroller and tried desperately to quiet her, but Aurora clearly wanted to get down and explore the bear's small home. Finally, Leah let the baby down onto the floor. The baby crawled over to the bookshelf and began grabbing the books and throwing them.
“No, no, Aurora,” Leah said, and she scooped up the baby and held her tightly till she screamed so loud that Leah let her down again. Then the baby crawled over to a basket full of yarn and was about to tip it over when Leah scooped her up again and gently reprimanded her. The baby got down again a third time and was going toward a basket of laundry when Leah scooped her up again and Erma said, in a loud clear voice, “That baby is just like her mama.”
Melba, Leah, and Aurora stopped and stared at the bear.
“Do you know who I am?” Leah asked finally.
“Of course,” the bear said, staring straight into Leah's eyes. “I smelled you a mile away.”
`There was a dead silence.
“You were that little child who snuck into my house and ate all my son's porridge and broke his little chair.”
Leah felt her face burning.
“Because of you,” Erma continued, “we got picked up by animal control and brought here. We woulda been euthanized if it hadn't been for Melba. They never found Earl. He was hiding in Melba's shed. She found him and raised him like her own son.”
Leah had not known any of this. She looked at Melba.
“I made a little bedroom for him in the shed,” Melba said. “No one ever knew he was in there,” she said. “Then after he grew up I got him that job as a forest ranger.”
“How come no one ever told me this?” Leah said. “I had no idea.”
“Oh, it's all right,” Erma said. “It's all water under the bridge.”
“Her bark is worse than her bite, Leah,” Melba said quietly. “She gets low blood sugar. Just wait till that food kicks in.”
“It's all right?” Leah repeated, incredulous.
“Yes, it's all right,” Melba said in a low tone. “Just let it go.”
“How can it be all right? How can I let it go? You lost everything because of me.”
Tears began to fall on the baby’s head. “ I didn't really know what I was doing. I didn't mean to hurt
anyone. I was just…looking for friends.”
“We know, Leah,” Melba said.
Leah looked from Melba to Erma, then back to Melba again. Erma looked at Melba, then at Leah. Aurora squirmed violently in Leah's arms. Leah set her on the floor, and she crawled over to the bear and tried to scramble onto her lap.
“No, Aurora!” Leah cried.
“It's ok,” Erma said, “I won’t hurt her.” And she picked the child up, set her on her lap, and looked into her face. Aurora reached up, touched the bear's soft cheek, and babbled.
“She's beautiful,” Erma said, staring at the baby, “for a human.” Then she looked at Leah. “Are you still looking for friends?”
Leah wiped her tear-streaked face and swallowed before answering. “Well, I just moved home after being gone a few years, and now that I have a baby, none of my old friends really come around...”
“I could use a friend,” Erma said, still looking at Leah. “You can come see me and bring me food. They never give us enough around here,” she said. “Especially this time of year. They call themselves zoologists, but they just don't get it.” She glanced up and down the hallway with contempt.
“Ok,” Leah said. “I can do that.”
Erma seemed to be in a much better mood after this, and the conversation lightened. She had all kinds of stories about the animals in the zoo—their feuds, their loves, and their idiosyncrasies.
“Aunt Melba,” Leah said, when the conversation waned, “If you have a key, Why don't you just let Erma out of the zoo?”
“Well, many years ago, I offered to come and get her and Harry in the middle of the night some time. Offered them the second bedroom at the trailer. But Harry had a heart condition, and he was getting good medical care at the zoo.”
“He probably lived ten years longer than he would have,” Erma said. “So I had those years with him.”
“Then, a year or two after Harry passed, Erma found herself a new boyfriend,” Melba added.
“He's much younger,” Erma said, “but no one judges me at my age.”
After an hour or so of talking, Melba got up to leave. “We need to get back and make sure my sister's ok,” she said to Erma. “She'll freak out if she wakes up and finds we're gone.”
“Young lady,” Erma said, addressing Leah, “you ever had a bear hug?” Erma asked.Leah shook her head no. Then Erma beckoned her over and she came, tentatively, handing Aurora to Melba, in case it was some kind of trap. Erma took Leah into her fuzzy arms and hugged her so tight that she squeezed all the sadness out of her.