Nathaniel's Got the Blues

by David L Heaney

  “Well, I … I … I’m not sure. Right now, it’s all a blur. I need to think. Like many of you, I am troubled by this moment and not thinking clearly.” Now he had done it, Nathaniel thought. He had lied and withheld the selection of Wendel as the new Jid from among Cielo Creek’s members.

  Pip drew in a sharp breath loud enough for Nathaniel to hear. He glanced in her direction, wondering how to read this.

  “I need to settle down and take some time to reconstruct our conversation. I will let you know in a few days. I’m exhausted and again, like all of you, have myself suffered a trauma of sorts, watching poor Jid die,” Nathaniel explained nervously.

  Rutger Loft clumsily whispered in Ricketts’s ear, loud enough for Nathaniel to hear. “See, boss, there is no successor. Remind them that big oaf is a rat! Remind them that rats eat mice!” Then, smiling, Rutger Loft slithered back behind Ricketts.

  As for Ricketts, he smiled and turned to the assembled crowd. “Well!” he huffed. “That was indeed an interesting response from our rat friend, wasn’t it? I should say our new rat friend, who has taken a curious interest in our community.” Then, turning to the crowd, he added with a skeptical smile, “As he says, he needs some time. He has been traumatized by the death of our Jid. We understand. We’ll just wait to hear from the rat. OK, everyone?” Ricketts’s words dripped with sarcasm.

  The crowd mumbled skeptically about the reliability of anything said by Nathaniel.

  Nathaniel could almost watch his credibility dissipate and so quickly announced, “In the days to come, I’m sure we will be able to resolve the matter of leadership.” With that, Nathaniel hastily dismissed himself, telling Wendel he would return shortly, after he had seen Birgit. He needed the sanctuary of his home, the unwavering love of Birgit, and the stress-free atmosphere of his nest.

  Wendel seemed confused, but in the end clearly opted to let it go for the moment. He suggested to Cielo Creek members that they set aside several days to grieve the death of their beloved Jid before taking up matters of leadership and a new home. In the meantime, they knew what the traps looked like and should be careful to avoid them.

  Pip was shocked and angered that Nathaniel had withheld the information, and as hard as she tried, she could come up with no good reason why he might do this. He had betrayed Jid’s trust, which he had promised to honor. He had betrayed Wendel? She stared hard at Wendel, wondering what he was thinking.

  “What is it, Pip?” Wendel asked, looking forlorn. Before she could answer, he said, “We grieve first, then deal with matters of leadership and a new home.”

  “OK,” she responded softly, as she could only guess what he was thinking. He had changed so much in such a short time that it was all a bit disorienting.

  Nathaniel could not get home fast enough. His mind was awash in dizzying doubts and questions about death and whether he had provided any comfort to Jid. The image of Jid stuck in that horrific glue seemed burned into his consciousness. His heart ached and his thoughts were confused. And he had lied—to Jid, to Wendel, to Pip … to everyone.

  It was then he remembered the words to the song that he’d sung after Wendel had been burned in the fire. He didn’t remember exactly what he’d sung, but it was something about a mouse and a liar. At the time, he’d wondered whether it was he who was the liar, and now he knew, and it felt so wrong. Why had he held back the truth about Jid’s selection of Wendel to be his successor? The whole thing made him feel sick, and once again he found himself running for the sanctuary of his home and Birgit.

  “You look like you’re in quite a hurry, heh heh. The fire’s been out for quite a while now, Nathaniel.” Mr. Leach’s familiar voice called to him just as he arrived at the juncture of the dusty driveway and the dirt road. There he was, as if on an afternoon stroll, and their paths just happened to cross. Coincidence surrounded all relationships with Mr. Leach. He should know to expect it now that he and Mr. Leach had renewed their companionship.

  “So.” Mr. Leach stretched the word for some time, which signaled to Nathaniel that the old possum knew more than he thought. “You have engaged with some new friends, Nathaniel. How do you like it? Heh heh heh.”

  “Oh, Mr. Leach, I have never done anything harder in all my life,” Nathaniel said, exasperated.

  “Hmm,” Mr. Leach grunted in understanding. “Friendship can be a real drag on one’s life.”

  “Cielo Creek has nowhere to go because of the fire, so they did the logical thing. They sought shelter and asylum in the nearest home,” Nathaniel explained, nervously pacing back and forth.

  “Mm-hmm. Seems reasonable enough, heh heh.” Mr. Leach shrugged.

  “Well, the McCorkles think these mice are, you know, pests and have infested their home, bringing disease and eating their food,” he said, disgusted, shaking his head in disbelief. “And so they are determined to exterminate every one of them.”

  “Oh yes? They have brought in the Exterminator? They must be very afraid of these mice. That is serious.”

  “The community’s Grandfather, who they call Jid, was trapped in the most hideous manner imaginable. He was enticed by the smell of food to a small tray that was filled with glue that …”

  “Hmm,” Mr. Leach grunted again. “A tray full of glue, you say?”

  “That’s right. Worse than glue. Stickier. Impossible to get free from.”

  “And you say he got into this tray of glue?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Well, what did he do that for?” Mr. Leach bellowed, incredulous and obviously annoyed with the old mouse.

  “He was hungry, Mr. Leach! All of them are hungry and getting desperate. Please try to understand!” This was the first time ever that Nathaniel had raised his voice to Mr. Leach, although Mr. Leach himself didn’t seem to notice.

  “The Jid himself walked right onto the glue tray?” Mr. Leach asked again, with a hint of disdain. “Oh dear! The poor old fool!” He sighed. “Go on.”

  “Right … um, but that glue actually seemed to devour him a little at a time until, so exhausted, he just gave up and died.” Nathaniel tracked the expression on Mr. Leach’s face to see if he was moved one way or the other. Instead, the old possum simply waited without comment for him to continue. “I stayed with him. I stayed with him and kept watch. We talked, and I tried to comfort him, but honestly, I don’t know if my words or my actions did anything at all.”

  “Ah, you’re a good fella, Nathaniel. Yes, yes, I think I understand. Sometimes it’s difficult for us to discern who we are actually comforting, I suppose—ourselves or those we are keeping watch over. And you may never know with certainty whether your words had their intended effect. But you were there, Nathaniel. You were there. And that means—”

  Nathaniel interrupted. “Then Jid asked me to tell the blind young mouse Wendel that he had selected him to be Cielo Creek’s new Jid.” Nathaniel again waited a moment to gauge Mr. Leach’s grasp of his story so far. Satisfied, he continued. “And I said I would do this.”

  “Granting a dying creature’s request is honorable, and I commend—”

  “I didn’t do it, Mr. Leach! I didn’t tell them. I think the boy is too young. He has suffered a terrible accident and is now disabled. Taking on a leadership role would be too much for him. I only want to protect him and do what’s right for him,” Nathaniel complained defensively.

  “Hmm … yes, that’s the young mouse who was badly burned.” Mr. Leach stared at his front paws. “Nathaniel, you told Jid you would do something, which you have failed to do. Your words and demeanor suggest to me you are not at peace with the approach you took with regard to this matter. Is this not correct?” Mr. Leach’s words were presented with a sympathetic smile. Still, there was nothing of the whimsical or playful Mr. Leach visible in his expression. Instead, he continued to stare intently at Nathaniel, waiting for him to answer.

  “I actu
ally am at peace with it, because I have engaged with Wendel and this community, and I believe I know them well and what is best for them. I have done as you said: engaged and extracted a good understanding of what’s best for them.” Nathaniel’s voice was tinged by a defensive tone as he spoke to Mr. Leach.

  “Mm.” Mr. Leach nodded his head slowly. “I understand. You came to this decision through engaging. And the truth you have extracted through this intense engagement is that you, a rat, would be a better Jid to the community than Wendel, because he is too young, too weak, and, let’s not forget, too disabled to bear the burden of leadership.”

  “Exactly,” Nathaniel said, relieved that he had clearly made his case.

  Mr. Leach smiled at Nathaniel. “Well, certainly, you are prepared to assume the mantle of leadership of the mouse community.”

  “Thank you,” Nathaniel said as he looked humbly at the ground.

  “I bet it feels pretty good … and, well, sort of natural for you to step into this new role.” Mr. Leach raised his brow and widened his eyes, waiting for Nathaniel to answer.

  “It does feel pretty good. You know, I’m helping these little guys. It’s very …” Nathaniel put his paw to his chin and scratched, thinking. “It’s rewarding, you know?”

  “Mm, right … rewarding. Engage and extract, Nathaniel. You haven’t engaged with anyone but yourself, so far as I can tell. And what you have extracted is the perfect conclusion to such a self-centered engagement. But it’s good to know that you are feeling less used up and depressed than you were before. So the way events have unfolded has been, shall we say, helpful to you … We might even say therapeutic for you.”

  Nathaniel frowned at Mr. Leach. His first thought was that he was annoyed with the old possum for seemingly mocking him. Mr. Leach was a very wise creature, but Nathaniel felt in his heart that he had gotten this right, that he had made the right decisions.

  Mr. Leach sighed, then spoke in a measured manner. “You have only begun to engage, Nathaniel. To extract the riches from this engagement will take time and work. I hope, dear brother, you don’t feel you are finished.” Nathaniel stared at him blankly. So Mr. Leach continued. “Extracting the riches from this engagement may entail weighing your values against Jid’s and perhaps the boy’s. I think you will have to ask yourself many questions before you can feel confident that you have arrived at the truth.”

  Nathaniel opened his mouth to explain but was met with Mr. Leach’s outstretched arm, intending to silence him. Then the old possum spoke in a manner that communicated very well both his disappointment and the end to this conversation. “Go home,” he said. “Go home to see Birgit. Go home so you may remember you are loved already and that you do not need the adulation of the mouse community to cure your melancholy … your ennui … or to banish your blues. Go home to discuss solutions. But then hurry back to your friends—not your subjects—who are presently in a life-threatening crisis. Glue traps are only one of the many terrible ways the Exterminator destroys. Even now, you can be sure the Exterminator is devising his final solution for these pests. The mice will not want to leave, but they will all die if they don’t. You know what to do, Nathaniel. I know you do.”

  “But, Mr. Leach—”

  Again Nathaniel’s words were met with Mr. Leach’s outstretched paw as he commanded, “STOP! I hope you listened very carefully to what I have said. Now … I will be keeping an eye on you, Nathaniel.” Mr. Leach turned to walk away, then stopped abruptly and swung around to face Nathaniel once again. “Oh, one more thing. Has it occurred to you that you may not be the only one who knows of the promise you made to Jid? You never know who might have been listening and so was a witness to your promise.” Mr. Leach turned and began walking. “Bye-bye for now, Nathaniel.”

  The thought that someone else may have heard the promise Nathaniel had made shook him to the core and made him feel sick. He just wanted to get home.

  When Nathaniel arrived home, Birgit squeaked and warbled anxiously about where he had been, and insisted he sit, rest, and tell her everything he had done.

  “Husband, I am so moved by the passion you have shown for your vulnerable friends. Indeed, rarely, if ever, have I seen you so moved by the misfortunes of others. But I have worried so about where you were.”

  Nathaniel felt all warm inside too when he thought about the good deeds he was doing for the mice and how he would save them from the Exterminator and see to it that poor Wendel was protected from burdens he was not equipped to deal with.

  “How can we help?” Birgit asked, interrupting Nathaniel’s reverie.

  “What do you mean, we?” As soon as the words had left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. It was a low blow.

  “Your family, Nathaniel. That’s what I mean when I say ‘we’!” she said through clenched teeth that betrayed her growing impatience.

  “Well, I don’t know … uh … exactly how you can …” His words drifted off. Nathaniel felt vaguely uneasy about her offer of assistance. He wasn’t proud of this, but it felt a little like she was trying to horn in on something that was his. He had, after all, spent considerable time engaging and extracting with the mice of Cielo Creek, and now he wondered just exactly why she wanted them to share this experience. Surely she must understand that the respect he had was earned among the mouse community. “How can you help? Let me have a few minutes to think about that, Birgit, OK?”

  He knew immediately that he had upset his wife. He wandered about their nest, avoiding Birgit as best he could, but all that came to him were the words to another song.

  Woke up this morning

  feeling bad. Went back to sleep.

  My wife called me to breakfast,

  said, “Baby, you gotta eat.”

  But I said I wasn’t hungry,

  at least not for normal food.

  I need somethin’ for my soul

  that’s gonna lift my mood.

  I got to banish these blues.

  I got to banish these blues.

  Can’t go on like this forever.

  I got to banish,

  banish these blues.

  Nathaniel steeled himself for a confrontation with his wife. His thinking on this had become selfish. He realized this. But at some level, he really wanted to own the experience alone rather than share it with his wife or, for that matter, anybody. He wasn’t so sure why he felt so possessive, but Birgit seemed to have worked it all out in her head.

  “Nathaniel, Cielo Creek has become your little project, hasn’t it? You ask all the questions and provide all the answers … kind of like God. Are we looking for solutions that will help Cielo Creek, or are we engaged in a little personal-growth exercise for my despondent husband? Honestly, I’m surprised that you didn’t welcome my offer of support. I wonder what’s going on with you.”

  Nathaniel had taken a deep breath and was blowing it out very slowly as he considered his response to Birgit’s words. “Ouch, Birgit! That hurt!”

  The two sat facing one another in silence. Nathaniel was sure he could wait her out, but this time she seemed absolutely unwilling to relent and continued to look at him expectantly.

  Finally Nathaniel sighed wearily. “Well, you do have a way of getting to the point when you want to, Birgit, and it’s generally true that I love you for that … although you might have been a little more patient with me on this one,” he said, smiling. Then he laughed and asked what she had in mind to help the community.

  “There is no time to be patient. Your friends are dying, starving, slowly being exterminated. What you need is food that doesn’t require the mice to leave the crawl space. Right? You told me that the closet was where Jid was trapped and so most likely where other traps will be set. If we could get them a supply of food, they could remain in the crawl space and avoid the traps. Nothing too fancy. Just bring them food.” Birgit shrugged and waited for
Nathaniel’s response.

  “Where would the food come from, and how would it get to them?” he asked.

  Birgit nodded her head in the direction of the fruit trees, which had nearly no fruit left at this time of the year. “OK, so the plan is imperfect, but there is enough fruit to hold them over for a short while, and I will ask our children and their children to help deliver it. This would even give you the opportunity to see your children!” Birgit offered enthusiastically even as it caused Nathaniel to wince.

  Birgit sensed Nathaniel’s ambivalence, which she had come to know would result in his slow-walking everything, so she took charge. She warbled out orders to Nathaniel about the fruit that remained edible below the trees and grain in the storage while she lumbered down the branches of the shrubs to enlist the help of Gertie, their eldest daughter. It was a relatively short walk to Gertie’s nest but long enough to give her time to ponder her husband’s behavior, which she found perplexing. Why would he be reluctant to accept help from her and their family if his aim was to care for his poor naive friends. What, she wondered, was he keeping from her, but then she immediately dismissed sinister intentions as preposterous and simply antithetical to Nathaniel’s character.

  Birgit smirked as Gertie appeared to become increasingly puzzled as her mother explained what Nathaniel had been up to. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, looking worried. “Well, I think he’s found a cause, and honestly, it’s probably good for him. He’s been quite a bit more active than the rat he was, sleeping till all hours of the day.”

  Birgit saw that she had won over Gertie, even if her help was simply to appease her mother. She agreed to gather other members of their family and assist with assembling an emergency food caravan to save the mouse colony, who by this time were choosing to starve before they would venture out to find a new home.