“Oh, Jid!” Nathaniel moaned, painfully aware of just how helpless he was to do anything to help.
“I can see how this is going to go, Nathaniel.” Jid laughed quietly, apparently resigned to his fate. “A spectacular failure, Jid was!” he bellowed, then laughed again.
“Please don’t languish in what you frame as failure. It is beneath you. I am told by young Wendel that you are a wonderful Jid, the Grandfather to all the community. He speaks with pride of your dedication to the colony. He looks up to you and loves you very much. Cielo Creek looks up to you and loves you very much.”
“Yes, you’re right. Thank you. I suppose I know these things, and self-pity is unbecoming at a moment when I should be brave.” Jid held his head above the glue, clearly showing signs that he was beginning to tire.
“It is hard to fathom some of the decisions I have made. I am older and in some ways wiser but in other ways more afraid … more cautious. Maybe you’ll understand this as an older creature too, Nathaniel.” With a pained expression, Jid continued. “With every new ache and pain, I become more self-absorbed. And the more self-focused I become … the more inwardly focused I am … ironically, cutting myself off from others, losing the connections I have developed over a lifetime. Sometimes I wake in the morning and think, ‘And what losses must I endure today?’ I have become more and more focused on me, which, quite frankly, doesn’t make me much of a leader. You know what I mean?”
Nathaniel nodded and Jid continued. “Every time you lose something, your world gets a little smaller. I have become my own full-time job! My ability to exercise good judgment is flawed when I worry first how my decision will affect me. More and more I don’t listen to the counsel of others. Instead, I make decisions alone … in isolation. I make decisions based on what I stand to lose. And maybe that’s what has been happening to me.”
“When I say that I understand, I mean it sincerely, Jid.” Nathaniel sat next to the trap, rapt by Jid’s words. “The irony in part is that I thought I was here to comfort you. The truth is you are offering comfort to me.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Jid grumbled. “Maybe my dying will serve some useful purpose for you.”
“Your living already has.”
“No need to humor me now.” Jid snorted.
Another few moments of silence passed as Jid struggled to adjust his position but only succeeded in further exhausting himself.
“Nathaniel, there was the fire. We had always gone to the barn for the cold season. But the barn was no good. It was too far gone to protect the members of my colony. I had to choose somewhere else, and the McCorkle house was the only alternative. I had in my mind that we would stay there only while I searched for alternative places, but … well, this has all happened so fast.”
Nathaniel listened carefully to Jid’s words and visibly winced each time Jid expressed regret for his supposed mistakes. It was hard to listen to, he decided. Still, it was the least he could do. “It makes me so sad to hear you express so many regrets when I think you alone feel this way.”
“So, one dies alone with their regrets.”
“Don’t be so cynical,” Nathaniel chided.
“There is nothing to be done about them. The past is past. I can’t undo anything,” Jid complained.
“That’s true, but what you believe about your actions that has caused you to feel regret is different from the action itself. The action is over … The damage, real or imagined, is done … It’s past, over … and all you possess now is what you believe about those actions. Isn’t the aim of regret or remorse to learn from the action that caused regret? How long must you feel regret or remorse before you can finally say you have done sufficient penance and let go of the regret? As you say, what’s done is done. What has happened is gone, and there is nothing you can do about it. But what you believe about those events that cause you such distress is still alive and well. But what I wish you’d understand is this: it is your beliefs that are distressing you. You cling to your regrets the way that trap clings to you. And here’s the point: you’re in charge of your beliefs. You are trapped by those beliefs. It is as if you are the glue! Maybe those regrets cause you such distress because you’re always fighting to hang on to them. Maybe they just want you to leave them alone … to let them go.”
They sat quietly for a moment, and Nathaniel was struggling with what else he might say to help this old mouse. “Why do you want to keep them, Jid? Are they serving some useful purpose? Only you can let them go.”
Jid just listened to Nathaniel speak, appearing to absorb his words.
“What if you decided to modify your belief a bit? You’ve kept these regrets safe and protected for quite a while. What if you decided to release them now, just as you wish to be released from this horrible trap? The only thing that keeps them captive is what you believe … What happened is gone. Let ’em go, Jid.”
“It’s an interesting thought, Nathaniel. I’d like nothing more than to let all of my regrets go. But as you say, I have been a good custodian of my regrets, and I wonder what I would be without them.”
“Free?” Nathaniel remarked softly.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Maybe they’re what has kept me alive.” Jid forced a smile.
More silence. Nathaniel felt flustered. He wanted to console Jid, who seemed determined to deflect all his efforts.
As Nathaniel was lost in a frenzy of thoughts about what he could do or say next, Jid’s voice jarred him back to the present moment. “I appreciate you sending Wendel on that errand … perhaps because you wanted to spare him the pain of more loss.”
This wasn’t really a question, Nathaniel concluded, but an observation that required no response.
Jid continued. “The boy has changed since the tragedy … the trauma of the fire.”
“Yes. I think we’re all changed by tragedy, aren’t we?”
Jid grunted. “Of course. Sometimes I think tragedy defines us more profoundly than our good fortunes.”
“Mm,” Nathaniel acknowledged. “But I sent Wendel to warn the others, not to spare him the pain of having to say goodbye to you.”
“I see,” Jid answered. “But how we come to grips with these things shapes who we are, I suppose. You know as well as I that Wendel is an emerging and unique sort of leader, perhaps ready for greater responsibility.”
“He’s very young, Jid. Leadership could be a terrible burden at his young age … don’t you think? And I thought the role of Jid was reserved for one who was old and wise, like you.”
“Perhaps. But didn’t you just say you were not trying to spare him the pain of witnessing my death.” There was a note of defiance in Jid’s response. “Leadership is a gift and a privilege. And age?” Jid chuckled. “We both know that Wendel is changed. He’s no child. He has become wise like an old man, certainly wiser than this old man. I think he will be a good leader.” Jid looked hard at Nathaniel, and they both remained silent for what seemed a long while.
Nathaniel detected Jid’s desire for expressed support, so he finally responded. “Oh, of course it would be a great privilege.”
“I’m glad you see it this way, because I am going to ask that you do something for me. I would like you to convey, first to Jid, then to the members of Cielo Creek, that I believe he is ready to lead the community. A special gift that is very rare, young Wendel possesses. He is able to take what is painful or difficult and exchange or redeem it for something that is precious and of great value. It is an alchemy of sorts that is a great gift and will be necessary for the mice of Cielo Creek. So I am choosing him to be my successor; Wendel will become the new Jid. His blindness has given him his vision, in a manner of speaking. It is my wish—and, by the way, my prerogative—to name Wendel Jid for Cielo Creek. Will you do that for me, Nathaniel? And will you counsel and assist him as he might ask?”
Nathaniel nodded his head. “Yes, o
f course.”
“They will have to leave here. And it will be hard to convince them to do so.”
“I know.” Nathaniel watched as Jid’s eyelids grew heavy. Nathaniel could see that the trap had sapped all Jid’s strength and had left little beyond his head free from the glue. Jid was clearly exhausted. “Mice don’t like to move. We like to stay in one place.” He yawned, sighing loudly. “And now I’m tired, my friend. I am grateful that you have promised to do as I have requested.” Then, as if laying his head on a pillow, he gently laid his head down into the glue.
Nathaniel watched his chest rise and fall once. Then, it stopped.
“Goodbye, Jid,” Nathaniel whispered, and thought to himself that this had been the hardest thing he had ever done. He tried hard to restrain himself, but the tears ran down his hairless, scarred pink cheeks, and he sang very softly.
Today I did the hardest thing
that I have ever done.
I comforted one falsely charged,
although I wished to run.
What crime did he commit
that could justify his death?
Grandfather to the colony,
he’s now taken his last breath.
I got the Exterminator blues.
The Exterminator blues.
No matter what you choose,
if you’re a mouse, you’re gonna lose.
The Exterminator blues.
They bring their lethal weapons
as if going off to war.
Bones they break,
and lives they take,
till mice exist no more.
We got the Exterminator blues.
The Exterminator blues.
You better run instead of hide,
and keep your peepers open wide
to shake the Exterminator blues.
7
Nathaniel had learned that all things die, but had never experienced what it was like to be present for another’s death. Only days ago he had composed that little song in which he said, “Everything you love, you will lose,” yet he did not fully appreciate the impact of these words until now.
He sat looking at Jid for a while in the very dim light of the utility room. Jid lay frozen in the glue of this unimaginable and torturous trap. His one visible eye was half-open but lifeless. Mr. Leach had told him a long time ago that when death occurs, what animates a creature abandons the package that contained it. As Nathaniel looked at Jid, he felt he understood this better. There was no doubt in his mind that Jid, or whatever it was that had animated him, was now gone. These questions now weighed heavily on Nathaniel because all of this was so fresh, so all-consuming at present. Had what animated Jid simply abandoned his body, or was it extinguished and gone now too? Just as he thought he was beginning to understand, he knew he understood very little.
In a fog of exhaustion, emotional stress, and just plain fear, Nathaniel contemplated what he would say and to whom. Suddenly it all felt like a heavy burden laid on him, to tell a child that he was to be the new Jid for the community. As he rested for a moment, his eyes growing heavy, the sound of footsteps just outside the door alerted him to scramble. The utility room was suddenly flooded with light. Nathaniel hid behind the vacuum cleaner, hoping he had not been seen.
“Got one!” the older McCorkle called out. He leaned in and picked up the trap with Jid stuck to it. “Throw this in the trash.”
“Ugh, it’s probably full of disease. Disgusting!” the younger McCorkle said.
“If there’s one, there’s more. We have an infestation. But we’ll get them. They picked the wrong house to seek refuge in, that’s for sure! The ones the fire missed, we’ll be sure to take care of.”
The older McCorkle took another trap from the package and tore open the plastic. It was just like the one that Jid had walked onto. He set it down on the floor so close to Nathaniel he could smell the attractive scent that must have drawn Jid to the first one.
“I want to set the rest of the traps and put out the poison tonight. We’ll have this cleaned up in a day or two.”
After McCorkle closed the door, Nathaniel slipped down the pipe into the crawl space.
It was almost certain he would encounter Wendel and there would be questions about what Jid had said, and Nathaniel felt boxed in and just wanted no part of it. He should never have promised Jid that he would help Wendel become Cielo Creek’s new Grandfather. He was too young. C’mon, he thought, the boy can’t even see and has just been through the trauma of the fire. It was unfair to the boy. Sure, he asked himself, what makes you the authority on leadership in mouse colonies? But that didn’t matter. This was all a matter of common sense.
As expected, Wendel heard him slide down the pipe and appeared moments later, looking expectantly for news of Jid. Very soon a few others joined them but waited a distance away out of respect. Then a few more dropped from the insulation and scurried to where the mice seemed to be gathering. The greater the number of mice that gathered, the less confident Nathaniel felt about what he should or would say. In a matter of moments, it seemed there were mice everywhere. The crowd of them waited and watched Nathaniel, who felt increasingly uneasy and unsure of what to say.
Nathaniel looked out over the collection of mice, which still seemed to be growing. He saw that they looked no more the same than he looked like other rats. All of them were individuals with a strong instinct for survival and a desire to raise their children. He was touched by the worried expressions they wore, and a palpable throbbing anxiety that ran through the gathered colony, who seemed on the verge of it all being simply too much to bear.
“And Jid?” Wendel’s question signaled that the moment Nathaniel most dreaded had arrived. All of the mice had their eyes fixed on his, anxiously anticipating news of their Grandfather.
“I’m so sorry,” he began, “but Jid is gone.”
The mice of Cielo Creek had anticipated this news but still were shaken to hear the words spoken. Jid had been Grandfather to all of them. It was nearly impossible to imagine he was gone. Nathaniel watched as some shed tears. Others fretted and wondered aloud about their future. Still others, curiously, wanted details of his death.
A mouse who Nathaniel knew was regarded as a gasbag, braggart, and conspiracy theorist, a fellow named Ricketts, an imposing and handsome mouse, made a point to offer a long-winded expression regarding how moved he was by the news of Jid’s death. But he also wasted no time as he made his way among the other mice, offering encouraging words and urging them to keep in mind the need for a strong new Jid who could take charge of Cielo Creek. Nathaniel watched him pandering to the mourners and politicking for the role of Jid, and how it especially seemed to aggravate Pip, when simply letting the poor mice grieve should have been the highest priority. And there was the other matter of Jid’s dying wish that Wendel be made the new colony Grandfather. Nathaniel was feeling that this would have to wait, but he wondered what had Pip so stirred up.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked Pip.
“Are you kidding? The idea of a power grab disgusts me!”
“Don’t worry, Pip. I’ve got this,” Nathaniel told her reassuringly.
Pip did not answer Nathaniel, only shot him an icy look. But many were clearly feeling rudderless, and handing over leadership to a young, inexperienced, and blind mouse might make a power grab all the easier to pull off.
Then Nathaniel began to speak. “By now you have heard of the hideous sticky traps set out by the Exterminator,” Nathaniel continued. “There are many, and I expect they will be deployed tonight. And I also anticipate the Exterminator has other means for disposing of what they call pests, other ways to address this terrible infestation, that are even more gruesome than the sticky traps. I can hardly imagine what these may be, but I urge caution. You must come to realize that, like me, we are all regarded as pests to be exte
rminated. Your circumstances are of no concern to the Exterminator. They want to eradicate you. I believe you face no option other than to leave your home and find a safe haven.”
A plaintive murmur rose from the mice, and Nathaniel could hear snippets of their complaints.
“Move? We can’t move.”
From the back of the group, one of the mice shouted, “Where would we go?”
Ricketts rose slowly and dramatically to speak. He was polished and possessed the gift of a golden tongue. He never raised his voice, and his positions were always well articulated, even if they were long-winded and self-serving. Everyone knew Ricketts was fiercely ambitious, egged on by his peculiar sycophant sidekick, Rutger Loft, a tall but quite thin and uncomfortably hunched mouse who made a point of being close enough to whisper a steady stream of advice in Ricketts’s ear. There was no doubt about it. Ricketts was good, beginning his speech with a request for all to observe a moment of silence in honor of Jid. The mice nodded, and they all bowed their heads until Ricketts recommanded their attention.
“We find ourselves in a most challenging but also curious situation. We have lost our Jid, which means we are without a leader. What makes the situation curious, or perhaps we might even say tenuous, is that our Jid died with only a rat present. Who will be Jid’s successor? With respect—” Ricketts turned to Nathaniel, bowing deferentially “—a rat can hardly be the means by which the Jid communicates to the community the identity of his desired successor.” Again Ricketts turned to Nathaniel, asking, “Sir, did our beloved Jid designate a successor before he departed this world for a better one?”
Nathaniel's Got the Blues Page 7