by J. J. Murray
“Good evening, ladies,” Dylan said, his hands on his hips. “Angie, it seems the mice outnumber us.”
“This is a different version of The Nutcracker,” Hope said. “The mice win because someone didn’t make us any tails.”
Dylan’s huge head nodded. “My mistake.”
“Violine,” Hope said, “could you make me into the King Mouse, please?”
After Kiki secured all the mouse ears with bobby pins, Angie handed out gray plastic swords, and Hope gave a few instructions, the group tiptoed to Aniya’s door.
“Is she awake?” Hope whispered.
“Yes,” Violine said. “I will go get a front row seat.” Violine entered the room and sat.
Dr. Mishra paced in front of Hope. “I am so nervous,” she whispered.
“You’ll do fine, doc,” Hope said. “Break a leg.”
Dr. Mishra shrugged. “And if I really do, I’m in the right place.”
Dr. Mishra entered Aniya’s room, the plastic tarp crinkling under her feet. “Good evening, Miss Aniya,” she said. “Are you ready to go to the ballet now?”
“I can go?” Aniya said.
Hey, Aniya sounds a lot better today. She isn’t whispering anymore.
“Why go to the ballet,” Dr. Mishra said, “when the ballet can come to you?”
Hope pushed Kiki into the room and the two nurses followed, their swords slicing through the air, Justin trailing behind and snapping away.
I wish I could see Aniya’s face! I hope Justin gets some good shots.
“Princess Aniya,” Kiki said, bowing, “we are mouse soldiers at your service.”
“Wow,” Aniya said.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we did this.
“But like any mouse soldier, we serve a queen,” one of the nurses said.
A change in the script. I am now the Mouse Queen. Hey, it’s a new millennium.
“And here,” Kiki said, “is our bay-it of a queen.”
Thanks, Kiki. I’m sure Aniya knows what bay-it is.
Hope slid in throwing popcorn in the air and pelting Kiki several times for effect.
“Hope!” Aniya cried.
Hope smiled and bowed. “I am at your service, Princess Aniya.” It is seriously crowded in here. We are going to have some interesting fight scenes. She handed the bag to Kiki and soon felt popcorn hitting her back. “These are desperate times, Princess Aniya. It is snowing heavily and suddenly sleeting”—Ow, Kiki!—“and our enemies are marching right this minute to fight us.” Look at Aniya’s eyes! I didn’t think they could get any wider. Hope looked behind her. “I said, our enemies are marching right this second to fight us.”
Angie marched into the room, her face blank.
“She’s a giant,” Aniya whispered.
Because she’s wearing heeled boots to make her seven feet tall, Hope thought as she moved to the right side of Aniya’s bed. I feel short. Kiki must feel like an ant.
“You mangy mice,” Angie said in a deep voice. “You must surrender.” Angie pulled out her sword, which was at least twice as long as Hope’s sword. “Or I will cut off your tails.”
Oops.
“You already did, you forgetful giant toy soldier, you,” Hope said.
Angie broke her blank face and smiled. “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”
Aniya giggled.
Hope stood in front of her mice. “Make it last,” she whispered, “and don’t break anything.” She turned to Aniya. “Princess Aniya, we will do our best to fight for your honor, but you must give us the command to attack.”
Aniya raised her fists. “Attack the toy soldier!”
Hope watched Aniya’s eyes dance as the mice surrounded Angie and sliced her to ribbons in slow motion. When Angie fell, she took up half the tarp.
“Sip sip mouse soldier,” Hope said, “take that toy soldier out of here.”
Kiki’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, Queen Bay-it.” She picked up Angie’s legs and pulled, the entire tarp flowing with them out of the room and into the hallway.
I guess it has to stop snowing now. Hope kicked a few kernels toward the door.
The second nurse turned to Aniya. “Oh great princess, we have defeated the toy soldier, but the evil nutcracker is going to be so angry with us.”
“Where’s Dylan?” Aniya asked. “Is he the nutcracker?” She sat up taller in her bed. “Is he, Hope?”
We may have to change the script again. We can’t kill her hero.
Hope nodded. “Yes, the nutcracker’s name is Dylan, and he has sailed all the way from Ireland to harm us. Oh, what will we do?”
Aniya smiled. “You will smash him!”
Okay, we stick to the script.
Kiki ran in waving her hands. “He is coming! Hide, everybody, hide!”
Where?
“Turn and fight, brave mice,” Hope said. “Get ready, because here he comes!”
Dylan bounced off the little hallway’s walls before straightening his head and arriving at the foot of Aniya’s bed.
“Dylan?” Aniya said. “Is that you?”
“It is I, Princess Aniya,” Dylan said. “I am nutcracker Dylan at your service.”
Oh, Dylan, don’t... bow.
Dylan bowed.
After Dylan returned his nutcracker head to his own head, he pulled out his sword, which was even longer than Angie’s sword. “Princess Aniya, the kingdom has been overrun with mice, and I must exterminate them!” He sliced the air. “En garde, evil mousies!”
In the original script, Dylan was supposed to dispatch Kiki and the two nurses with ease before facing off with Hope.
He didn’t.
He couldn’t see them.
Though his sword sliced and diced, the mice were too quick, ducking under and whacking him in the tights with their swords. Kiki delighted in hitting him squarely on his sexy derriere.
“Run into his sword,” Hope whispered tersely to Kiki.
Kiki rolled her eyes and walked into Dylan’s sword, falling over. The two nurses soon followed.
Too many bodies in the way.
“Will the nutcracker allow his enemy to clear the battlefield before the final battle?” Hope asked.
“What?” Dylan asked.
He’s deaf and blind in that head. He must have used four layers of papier-mâché.
Hope dragged the nurses out carefully. She smiled at Kiki. You hit my man in the derriere. Yuh goin’ out hard.
Dylan chose this moment to swing his sword, narrowly missing Hope’s forehead.
“Get out of here,” Hope whispered to Kiki.
Kiki crawled away.
Hope drew her sword and tapped Dylan on the shoulder. “Turn and fight, you vile piece of wood!”
Dylan turned, but his head did not.
Aniya giggled.
I’ll bet he did that on purpose. That was funny.
He righted his head and took up a fighting stance. “No more will you . . .”
Hope heard paper rustling. He has the script inside the head.
“Here it is,” Dylan said. “No more will you devastate the land, King Mouse.”
“She’s a queen, Dylan!” Aniya cried.
“That she is,” Dylan said. “No more will you devastate the land, Queen Mouse. My princess, you may not want to watch this. It is not going to be pretty.”
It wasn’t.
Hope treated the nutcracker’s head like a piñata, cracking it so hard that paint and papier-mâché flaked and flew off in huge chunks around the room.
“Get him!” Aniya yelled. “Knock his head off!”
Before Hope could reach up and tip the now hideous nutcracker’s head from Dylan’s shoulders, Dylan threw it off, his face as white as plaster. “Not so fast, Queen Mouse.” He tossed the sword back and forth between his hands. “You may have taken my head, but you’ll never take my heart!”
Hope pouted.
“You know what I mean,” Dylan said.
Hope smiled.
“En ga
rde!” Dylan cried, circling to his right and lunging forward.
Hope grabbed the plastic blade and bent it back toward him.
“No fair,” Dylan said, staring at his sword point staring at him. “Princess Aniya, I am in trouble!”
“Off with his head!” Aniya said, giggling.
“No fair,” Dylan said.
“As you wish, my princess,” Hope said. “May I kiss him before I take off his head?”
Aniya nodded. “Yes, but only once.”
Hope stuck her sword under Dylan’s chin. “Do you yield, vile king?”
Dylan smiled. “No.”
Hope kissed him. “Do you yield now?”
“I surrender,” he said, falling to his knees. “Please don’t cut off my head.”
Hope looked at Aniya. “It’s not a bad head as heads go.”
“Yeah,” Aniya said. “Let him keep it.”
“Thank you, oh great and wise princess,” Hope said. “You have saved your kingdom.” She bowed. “The end.”
The nurses, Kiki, Angie, and Dr. Mishra crowded in for their bows, and Aniya and Violine clapped. Kiki dug the present out of the popcorn bag and handed it to Hope.
“Aniya,” Hope said as Dylan collected what was left of the nutcracker’s head, “what you just saw is nothing like the real story of the nutcracker. When you have time, watch this.” She handed Aniya the DVD, and Aniya tore it open.
“Thank you,” Aniya said.
Dylan sat on the edge of Aniya’s bed. “So how did we do?”
“You were funny,” Aniya said, “and I don’t want you to go.”
I don’t know how Violine handles all this. I’d probably cry every time that child spoke.
“Go?” Dylan said. “The night is young. Hey, let’s get you in a cast picture.” He turned to Justin. “Can you get us all in a shot with Aniya?”
Justin nodded. “Mice to the left, soldiers to the right.” He took a dozen pictures. “I’ll make sure you get a poster of this, Aniya.”
“Cool,” Aniya said. She held up her DVD. “Can we watch this now?”
Hope looked at Dr. Mishra. “Can we? We’ll be as quiet as mice.”
Dr. Mishra checked her watch. “You’ll need to clear the room for about half an hour.”
Aniya slumped into her pillow. “No more tests.”
They’re for you own good, little one. “We’ll be right outside, Aniya,” Hope said. “You’ll probably be able to hear us giggling.”
Aniya nodded.
Angie led Kiki out of the room.
Hope winked. “See you in a few.” She took Dylan’s hand. “Come on, King Klutz.”
“See you in a few minutes,” Dylan said as they left.
Violine followed them to the waiting room. “She will be asleep in a few minutes,” she said. “I am surprised she was awake so long. The medications are so strong. She was not sick once this evening, and I know she was excited. It is a good sign.” She hugged Kiki. “You are a funny mouse.” She hugged Angie. “You are too tall.” She hugged Dylan. “You were a good and funny king.” She hugged Hope. “You are just good.”
“Thank you,” Hope said. “Are you sure she’s going to fall asleep? She seemed pretty alert.”
“She is having her sleep medications now,” Violine said. “She heals best when she’s asleep.” She turned and hugged Justin. “I want as many pictures as you can spare. I want to show Georges what he missed.”
“Sure,” Justin said. “Gotta run. See you all tomorrow.”
Justin started for the elevators, turning and flashing one more picture.
“God bless you all,” Violine said.
On the elevator ride down to the lobby, Hope rested her head on Dylan’s shoulder while he picked popcorn from her locks. “You were a pretty wooden actor, Mr. Healy,” Hope said. “I think your tights were cutting off your oxygen supply.”
“And you were kind of mousy,” Dylan said.
Kiki shook her head. “Do you never stop with the puns?”
“No,” Dylan said. “We like to punish people.”
Hope smiled at Angie and Kiki. “That’s about the tall and short of it.”
Angie laughed.
Kiki sighed. “Please stop. You are infecting Angie.”
“It was funny, Kiki,” Angie said. “Lighten up or I’ll give you the boot.”
Hope laughed. “Which one?”
“Both,” Angie said. “Then it will be the tall and shorter of it.”
The elevator doors opened, and Kiki pushed Angie out.
“Quit being so pushy, Kiki,” Angie said.
Kiki stopped and turned to Hope and Dylan. “I blame you both for this. She used to be so shy, and now look!”
Hope hugged Kiki. “Thank you for being such a mean little mouse, Kiki. Next time I will make you a sip sip soldier.”
Kiki looked at the ground. “I hope there is no need for a next time. Will she get better?”
“I hope so,” Hope said. “No one knows for sure.”
Kiki nodded. “I think I will visit her tomorrow at lunch with you. We will bring her the poster and the pictures.”
“Okay,” Hope said.
Dylan and Hope watched Kiki and Angie walk into the night, a tall toy soldier and a buxom mouse.
Only in Brooklyn.
“Where to?” Dylan asked.
Hope pulled her coat around her. “It’s cold.”
“How do you think I feel?” Dylan asked. “The wind is quite unkind to a man in tights.”
They took a cab to Hope’s apartment, and once inside, Hope relieved him of his tights. As soon as they hit the floor, Whack dove on them and started shredding them.
“She doesn’t like tights,” Dylan said.
Or dresses. Hope blinked. “I guess not.”
Dylan looked down at his boxers. “How am I going to get home now?”
Hope went to her wardrobe and returned with a pair of jeans. “These are the ones I borrowed from you. They don’t fit me any more.”
Dylan smiled as he put on his old jeans. “I’ve noticed the tightness of your clothes, Miss Warren. Even those sweats are crying a little to be released.” He pulled her to him and rubbed his hands on her sexy derriere.
I want him so bad, but my friend is still here, and it’s going on two weeks. “Dylan, I’m still on my period. My body is still figuring itself out down there.”
“How long does your period usually last?” Dylan asked.
This is the first time any man’s ever cared to ask me. “At most six days, and that was usually when I was fighting a cold. I thought I was winding down a few days ago, but it came back with a vengeance.” She put her hands into his back pockets. “I want you so badly.”
“Maybe we can hold each other all night instead,” Dylan said.
“On a Monday night?” Hope asked.
“I will have to set your alarm for five,” Dylan said, “and I will have to borrow my hoodie from you.”
Hope led him to the bed. “Sneaky man,” she whispered. “You’re only staying so you can get your clothes back.”
“I’m staying so I can rub on your back,” he whispered.
Hope flattened herself on the bed. “Rub away, my noble nutcracker, rub away, and please don’t spin your head around at any time during the night . . .”
Hope did not appreciate what five AM looked like. Too dark, too cold.
She did appreciate the kiss Dylan gave her at 5:15 AM.
“You smell so nice,” she whispered dreamily. “Come back to bed.”
“I want to,” Dylan whispered, “but I have to be there by six, and I have to make your breakfast. Aniya explained the trick to me.”
“What’s the trick?”
“Never leave the toaster,” he whispered. He kissed her lower back. “Get better soon. See you in a few hours.”
Hope woke the same way for the rest of the week, and she began to appreciate five AM. She tried to keep Dylan from leaving the bed, grabbing on his hips, but
he easily pinned her to the bed and kissed her neck before leaving for the shower. She waited until she heard the water before opening the washroom door and racing back to bed. She enjoyed watching him brush his teeth, shower, towel off, shave, and get dressed. She most enjoyed the kiss before he left.
This could be the start of my everyday life in less than three weeks. Up early with my man, bathing together—I hope that basement apartment has a big tub!—and then going upstairs to wait on the first arrivals at Art for Kids’ Sake while eating toast and jam and drinking our coffee. We have to get a decent coffeemaker and a toaster we don’t have to watch. And at least for the time being, I can hang out until 8:30 every morning before going on to Thrifty.
Hope visited Aniya with Kiki during lunch and with Dylan after dinner, and though Aniya seemed to be improving—and staying up later and later to watch the Nutcracker DVD with them several times—she was still no nearer to going home.
“I am as frustrated as Aniya is,” Dr. Mishra said once Aniya had fallen asleep Friday night, only a week before Christmas. “Her counts are going up, but not as quickly as I’d like them to. Her white blood cells, the ones that help fight infection, are not half what they should be. She has been fighting this disease for so long, and her little body is exhausted from the fight.”
“Could she go home for Christmas, even for a few hours?” Dylan asked. “She only lives a few minutes away on Nostrand. What’s an hour?”
“I am afraid that would be unwise,” Dr. Mishra said.
“At least let her open her presents at home.” Dylan pointed at the poster Justin made and what was left of the nutcracker’s head staring out of a corner. “This room isn’t very festive, not for a child at Christmas.”
“There would be too great a risk for infection,” Dr. Mishra said. “She cannot fight off any infection now. She’s safest here.”
“Christmas is only a week away,” Dylan said. “What has to happen before she can go home?”
“Her CBC, her complete blood count—and that includes white and red blood cells and platelets—has to double,” Dr. Mishra said. “At present rate, that will not happen.”
“Aniya will do it,” Dylan said later that night as he and Hope watched Frosty the Snowman. “She has to. I’ve been sneaking her candy canes.”