Man Made Boy (43 page)

I STOOD IN front of the door and stared at the freshly painted gold star with the script written across the top:
Madame Medusa
. Then I knocked twice, very softly.

“Madame Medusa?” I asked. “I have your weekly rations.”

“Boy? How lovely. Come in.”

I opened the door, and was greeted by the same scent of old cedar. The room was still dimly lit by floor lamps draped in red and purple silk. Even though I’d seen her twice while switched off, my memory of what she looked liked was fuzzy, almost like my brain couldn’t retain it. I looked through the curtain at her silhouette, watching the tiny snakes writhe on top of her head. I expected my body to have those little tremors like before, but for some reason I didn’t feel them this time.

“I’m leaving soon.” I set the box of mice down next to the curtain.

“Ah, yes,” she said. “Off to fulfill your father’s dream of joyous reunion with his creator.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“And what is another?”

“Well, it’s not really us against them. The sides are a lot less clear than that. I’m not even sure anymore that there are sides.”

“So was it all a waste of time and energy, then?” she asked, although her tone sounded more teasing than critical.

“I hope not. I feel like if I’d decided to play it safe, I’d be going to Geneva the same as I am now, but I wouldn’t be ready for it
like I am now. I had to get out on my own for a while first. Find my own path. But you already knew that.”

“Oh?” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Because you were the one who pushed me out the door.”

“I admit, I detest seeing young males confined. Especially ones with such rich potential. It’s a weakness of mine.”

“Thank you.”

“Even after everything you’ve been through, you thank me? Heroes really are so adorably odd.”

“I’m not sure I’d call myself a hero.”

“Who’s had more experience with heroes, you or me?”

“Uhhh—”

“Precisely. And now that you know who you are, it’s time to get out into the world and do something astonishing. I wish I could be there to see it.”

“Why can’t you be?”

She raised her hand and pulled the curtain aside.

I flinched, as if expecting to be hit with some powerful blast. But nothing came. She stared up at me from where she lay on her divan. Her eyes were tired and weak and the snakes on her head hardly moved at all. Her face and limbs were gaunt and her gleaming white reptilian skin was now a drab gray, dry, and cracking.

“Madame,” I said, kneeling next to her divan. “What happened?”

“Despite my formidable power,” she said, “I’ve never been the most durable of monsters. I’m afraid this ordeal was simply too much for me. I’m sure there are any number of scientific causes, but I’m not very interested in that. All I know is that death will be here soon.”

I took her limp hand in mine. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t you dare say that. I’ve been slowly dying for a very long time. This,” she gestured to her dressing room, “is no life for one such as me. This is no
world
for one such as me. I don’t belong here anymore. I don’t belong anywhere anymore.” She raised her other hand up and touched my cheek. “At least this way, I was able to see a hero one last time. You have done well, Boy. And you will accomplish even greater things in the future. I don’t need the Fates to know that. Through you, I feel I have contributed to something far nobler than anything else I have witnessed during my autumn years here in exile. And so I will go in peace.”

Her hand slowly drifted down to her stomach. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m feeling sleepy.”

She slowly closed her eyes and I watched her chest rise and fall in short, shallow breaths. I looked down at the unopened box of mice next to her divan. Somehow I knew she wouldn’t be eating them. So I opened the box and set them free.

The Diva died that night. The next day we cremated her like we did all the dead of The Show, down in the furnaces. She wasn’t well liked in the company. Only my dad, Claire, and I were there to hear Ruthven say a few words. He said we’d lost one of the truly great and fearsome monsters. One of the originals.

Medusa was right: there wasn’t room for her anymore in this world. Not for her or for any of the creatures at The Commune.

But I wondered, could we make room for them again?

I STOOD IN the theater lobby on a Friday afternoon. That night was going to be the grand reopening of The Show. But I was going to miss it. I had a plane to catch.

“Boy,” said my father. He put his hand on my shoulder, enveloping
it completely. “I am sorry I cannot come with you to the airport.”

“Hey, somebody’s got to keep everyone in line while Ruthven’s gone,” I said. Of course, we both knew there was no way he could actually set foot in an airport without sending the entire place into a panic.

“I know you will love Switzerland,” he said. “It is a beautiful place.”

“Snow and mountains and stuff, right? I’m ready for it.”

“Make sure you study hard, though.”

“I will.”

“And be courteous to the Frankensteins.”

“I’ll try.”

“And Skype with your mother once a week like you promised.”

“Okay, okay.”

“And…” He stared down at me. “And…” His face screwed up like he was making an effort to get something out. “And…”

“I know, Dad.” I pulled him down into a hug. “I love you, too.”

When I let him go, he straightened back up and nodded, still looking serious. “Okay. Good.”

And then we just stood there awkwardly until Sophie and Mom came into the lobby.

It was the first time Mom was leaving the theater in fifty years, so she was a nervous wreck. Not that you could see it in her expression of course. But her stitches vibrated with tension and she was talking way more than usual.

“How do I look?” she asked as she touched the long, red silk scarf that covered her crazy black-and-white hair and the most obvious of her stitches.

“You look utterly beautiful,” Sophie said as she adjusted the knot on the scarf.

“Do I pass?” she asked.

“Of course you do, Mom,” I said.

“Trust me, Bride,” said Ruthven, stepping out of his office. “I wouldn’t have allowed this if I thought it in any way endangered us.” He opened the door and gestured for us to pass through.

I turned back to Dad.

He nodded to me. His eyes were always a little watery. But I was pretty sure there was a real tear in the eye of the most famous monster of all time.

“Good-bye, Dad,” I said.

Sophie held one of Mom’s arms. I took the other, and we led her out onto the sidewalk in front of the theater.

A rental car jerked to a sudden stop in front of us.

“All aboard!” Charon called from the open window.

We started to pile in, but nervousness got the best of Mom and her joints locked up.

“Sorry, I…sorry,” she muttered as Ruthven and I picked her up and maneuvered her into the backseat as carefully as we could.

“We understand, Bride,” said Charon from the driver’s seat. “You’re a little out of practice.”

“We really do need to get you out a little more often,” Ruthven said with a grunt as he and I wedged her into more or less a sitting position.

Sophie and I joined her in the backseat, while Ruthven took the front passenger seat.

“And speaking of being out of practice,” said Ruthven, “Charon, how long has it been since you’ve driven a car?”

“Well, I was a little thrown off when I couldn’t find the hand crank, but I have to say, turning a key is much easier.”

“Um,” I said, “maybe Sophie or I should drive.”

“Nonsense!” he said. “I’m the ferryman! It’s my duty to ferry you to this next phase of your life!”

Then he slammed his foot on the accelerator, and with a squeal of tires, we were on our way to the airport.

I watched Mom take in the sights and sounds of the city, her eyes darting in every direction, like she was trying to take it all in at once.

“You could have stayed behind with Dad,” I said. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I
did
have to come,” she said. “You will not deny me another good-bye ever again.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that.

CHARON DECIDED TO stay with the car once we got to the airport. He said he didn’t want anything to happen to it, but I think he’d just had about as much of the outside as he could handle. My mother, however, insisted on coming with Ruthven and Sophie into the airport to see me off at the security checkpoint.

I wasn’t sure how she’d handle all the crowds and noise at the airport, but as soon as we got there, she found something to keep herself calm. She’d never seen airplanes this close and she was mesmerized by them. As we walked through the hallways, every glimpse of an airplane through the windows made her eyes light up.

“You’re going to build an airplane, aren’t you?” I asked her as we arrived at the line for the security checkpoint.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Perhaps I will build one and use to it come visit you in Geneva.”

“Mom.” I took her hand. “That would be amazing.”

“Okay,” she said. Her face was still blank, but tears filled up her eyes. “I will, then.”

I gave her a big monster hug.

I turned to Ruthven.

“Thanks for everything you do for us.”

“I want to thank you, too,” he said.

“For what?”

“Can you believe, old Kemp called me up the other day? Something about starting an annual meeting of magical creatures. I think I’ll have to consider it, especially since your lovely Sophie and Claire will be there and I’ve grown rather fond of them.”

“That’s going to be awesome,” I said. “Tell them all I said hi.”

“Of course,” he said. “And you will be back for the holidays, won’t you? You know there’s no place like New York at Christmas.”

“True,” I said.

“Good luck, Boy,” he said, and offered his hand.

I grabbed it and pulled him into a hug.

“Hmm, yes, charming,” said Ruthven as he adjusted his shadowy cloak. “You know, the only other person I let hug me is your father.”

I turned to Sophie.

“Hiya,” she said, slipping her hands into mine.

“Hey,” I said.

“Claire says bye. You know she hates this kind of stuff.”

“Yeah.”

She smiled and those dimples flashed onto her cheeks. “It’s going to be amazing. And the Frankensteins are going to
love
you.”

z“I hope so.”

“Well,
I
love you, and I’m super picky. So I know they will.”

“I’m going to miss you,” I said. “A lot.”

She raised herself up on her tiptoes and tilted her head in toward mine. “I don’t blame you. I’m pretty fantastic.”

And then we kissed. I felt like I had to drink up her sweetness as much as I could, store it up to comfort me in the coming months for those times when I would feel alone and homesick.

“Good-bye,” she whispered against my lips, and then she stepped away.

I waved one more time, and then I got into the security check line. And wouldn’t you know it, the one time I wanted a line to move slowly, so I could look at the people I loved just a little bit longer, it moved incredibly fast. Or maybe it just felt that way.