Felix Takes the Stage (8 page)

E
dith had her children's undivided attention now. “Once upon a time, a very long time ago, Athena, the goddess of wisdom, heard about a young peasant girl named Arachne. Athena was known for her artistry and was a very fine weaver. Arachne also wove, and she boasted that she could make tapestries more beautiful than any god's or goddess's, even Athena's. Now, the gods and goddesses did not like it when anyone was compared to them. They were very proud.”

“They had pride?” Julep asked.

“Yes, excessive pride,” Edith replied with a nod. “And that was fine for gods and goddesses, but if humans showed excessive pride, it led to nothing but trouble. Gods and goddesses were jealous types.”

Felix was still quiet but listening intently. “So, what happened?” he asked.

“Athena descended from her lofty perch on Mount Olympus,” Edith continued. “She went to visit Arachne while disguised as an old lady. She told Arachne her work was beautiful but asked why she would ever compare herself to a goddess. Wasn't she happy to be the best weaver among the humans on earth?

“The girl, who was so prideful, answered her back, ‘Let the goddess come! We'll have a contest and see who's the best!'”

“She sassed her!” Julep said. “She sassed a goddess!”

“Indeed she did!” Edith nodded.

“So, what happened next?” Felix asked suspiciously.

“Well, Athena grew furious and threw off her disguise. Standing before Arachne in all her goddess glory, she shouted, ‘Prideful girl, you shall have your wish.' And so they sat down in front of two looms. Athena's tapestry was one of shimmering beauty and elegance. But so was Arachne's. However, what Arachne had chosen to weave was disrespectful to both gods and mortals alike. She had woven a picture that made fun of the gods. It made them look silly, ordinary, and very mortal!”

“And then?” Felix asked.

“You see, Arachne, by being so proud, had insulted all of the gods. Athena rose up in a fury and tore the tapestry from the loom. She struck Arachne on the head with the shuttle she had used for weaving. In that instant, Arachne began to feel her head grow smaller, her fingers and legs shrink until they were spindly. Like this.” Edith raised one of her eight legs and waved it about for effect. “And Athena said to Arachne, ‘Stupid, vain girl, go and spin your thread and weave not tapestries but empty nets, and learn that the gods and goddesses must be worshipped properly by humans.”

“The End?” Julep asked.

“Yes.” Edith nodded and turned to look at Felix, who was very quiet.

Finally, he spoke. “May I make a comment on this story?”

“Certainly, Felix,” Edith said. There was a slight tremor of anxiety in her voice.

“First of all, I am not a human. I am not a girl. And I already am a spider. So, from my point of view —” He paused. “From
our
point of view, this is not such a bad story. She was turned into one of us, a spider.”

“True,” Edith agreed.

“And second,” Felix continued, “you have always told us that spiders have been around much longer than humans. We were here first — four hundred million years ago. So it isn't an accurate story.”

“Myths are never accurate. We don't read them for accuracy. We read them to learn.”

“I get it, Mom. I've learned.” The words seemed to clog deep inside Felix. He could hardly go on, but he did. “And I won't brag, but please, just let me do my art. And … and … and …”

“And what, dear?”

“Remember, Mom, back when we were on our way to the Kontiki Antikies shop, I said I had something I wanted to bring up with you.”

“Uh … vaguely, yes.”

“You said, ‘Later, when we're settled.'”

“So I did. Yes.”

“Well, I know we're not exactly settled, but I would like to bring it up now.”

“Certainly.” Edith nodded.

The tiny hairs on Felix's front legs began to quiver.

“It's just that I feel I don't belong.”

“Don't belong?” The entire web seemed to hum with Edith's alarm. “Whatever do you mean? We're a family. You belong right here.”

“This is so hard to say, Mom. I feel that I belong with my family but not my species.”

“What's he talking about?” Julep said.

“Ssshush!” Jo Bell said. At this moment, Jo Bell began to feel deeply sorry for her brother. Felix was different, but she loved him, and right now she felt as if he was about to turn their whole world upside down and inside out.

“Just because we're called recluses shouldn't mean we have to hide away!”

They were interrupted by a meow coming from the cabinet's back panel.

“Fatty?” Edith asked.

“Baggage backs up to the lavatories,” Fatty said from a small air vent at the top of the cabinet. “Your creation is beautiful, Felix. Simply beautiful. And Felix is right. It truly is his name that condemns him.”

“What's wrong with the name Felix?” Julep asked.

“No, dear child. It's the name of your species. Brown recluse,” Fatty said softly. “Felix asks not to be judged by the poison in his fangs but by his character. As should each and every one of you.”

Felix was overwhelmed. Fatty summed it up so well, so perfectly. All this time he had been wrestling with the dilemma. He could not deny who he was. “I want to live in the open,” Felix declared.

“Felix, that is just too dangerous!” Edith was shaking so hard she could barely speak. “We can live in the open when we get to the Place Where Time Has Stopped.”

“But that place might not exist. Mom, you're the one who always tells us to seize the day, to make the most of our lives. It is very hard to seize the day if we're always hiding. We never even see the daylight! And what good has hiding done us anyhow? I admit I was the reason we had to get out of the philharmonic, but no one had ever seen us at Kontiki Antikies.”

“But they heard about us after the philharmonic hall incident!”

“It's no way to live, Mom!”

“Edith.” Fatty began to speak. “You know how I care for you. But Felix is right. You could live in hiding, but should it be at the expense of your children?”

Edith was very quiet.

“Mom?” Felix finally said in a very tiny voice. “Mom, are you mad?”

“No, no, never. I'm just getting used to the idea.”

“You mean — we can go out in the world?” Jo Bell asked. Every nano-hair on her eight legs trembled at the very thought.

Edith paused, looked at Felix, and then looked at each of her daughters. “Yes,” she said. “It's just going to take me some time to get used to the truth that is before my half dozen eyes. Each one of my children has so … so much potential. And when we get to the Boston Public Library, you will find such inspiration!”

She turned to Felix. “Keep weaving, Felix, keep spinning. It is beautiful what you are making — it's an astonishing creation.” She paused. “Perhaps you could make us a lovely circle for circle time, you know.”

“Oh, Mom, I'll make you the best web. My pleasure!”

T
he next evening, Edith, her children, and Fat Cat disembarked at South Station in Boston.

“If I remember correctly, we can take the red line to Park Street and then the green line to Copley,” Edith said.

“Wow, Mom!” Her children were impressed. Usually it was Fat Cat who handled public transportation.

“I know buses, your mother knows subways,” Fatty said.

Within the hour they had arrived at Copley Square.

“Good gracious!” Edith sighed. “I get weak just looking at it!”

The Boston Public Library was a magnificent building. Despite its massive size, it seemed almost to float against the pink-streaked sky. The granite looked rosy and the arcaded windows had a golden luster. There was something timeless about it, Edith thought, and though it was not the Place Where Time Has Stopped, it held her family's future.

“It looks like a palace,” Julep whispered.

“It is a palace!” Edith said as they climbed the granite steps to the front entrance. “But a palace for everyone. Look up, see the inscription.”

“‘Free to All'!” Felix read.

Two bronze statues guarded the entrance. “Who are they?” Julep asked.

“They are supposed to represent the arts and the sciences,” Edith replied. “And look, there is a carved head right above the words ‘Free to All.' Do you know who that might be?”

“Who?” Jo Bell asked.

“Athena.”

“The goddess from the story — the one who turned Arachne into a spider!” Julep said.

“I hope she doesn't turn us into humans,” Felix muttered as they skibbled through the front entrance and entered a huge vaulted space. A grand marble twin staircase faced them, with carved lions on pedestals at the first landing.

“There are forty-two steps to the first landing. I would suggest we float some lines to ascend.”

Fat Cat slid between the cool shadows and crouched beneath another statue. The rich beige marble of the floor and walls offered a perfect camouflage for Fatty, whose fur was almost the same color.

The children could feel that the library was not simply a building but a world. Although Edith and her mother had lived in it for a long time, there were vast territories still unexplored. It had always been Edith's intention to visit the rare books room with her mother, Violet. But they never did. Violet was ill and grew weaker and weaker. With her strength ebbing, she simply could not make enough silk to scale the lofty peaks to the treasure trove that contained some of the oldest and most valuable books on earth. After Violet died, Edith had no stomach for going to the rare books room alone. But now, with three youngsters, it was the perfect expedition.

And so they began their ascent through the marble corridors, floating lines where they could to bronze statues or fixtures. They went up a final set of stairs and scuttled and skibbled down dimmer and dustier hallways until they stood in front of a set of double doors. In black letters were the words
DEPARTMENT OF RARE BOOKS
.

“I'm afraid this is where we part ways,” Fatty said.

“Not for good,” Edith replied. “I'll explore the ventilation system for you. There must be a way in.”

“I'll roam around a bit. But you know, Edith —” There was something in Fatty's voice that made chills run through every one of the family's thirty-two legs.

Don't say it, Fatty. Please don't,
Edith thought.

“You know,” Fatty continued, “I'm more of a theater creature than a library one.”

“No, Fatty! No!” the children cried.

“You've been with us forever,” Felix said.

“You're like a dad,” Julep whispered.

“You're family!” cried Jo Bell.

“She's right, Fatty,” Edith said. “It makes no difference that you're a cat and we're spiders. You are family. In time of our trials, true, in the face of fear, faithful.” They were all weeping now.

“And I shall always be.” Fatty purred softly. “But the theater scene in Boston is good, and not far from here. I had a cousin who once played the Colonial Theatre —
The Lion King
, or it might have been
Wicked
. Not sure. I'll come visit. This isn't good-bye.”

“You must let us know as soon as you have sett —” Edith caught herself before she said the word. “You must let us know which theater.” She tipped her head toward the double doors of the rare books room. “But you know where you can find us.”

“Yes, dear Edith.”

“I understand from my late mother that they have some very early Shakespeare texts.

Most likely I'll be there — sixteenth century.”

“And you said that there are the letters and books of that magician fellow Who — whateee?”

Felix asked. “Houdini, Felix.

Harry Houdini.”

“That's where you'll find me, Fatty. The magic shelves.”

“They have miniature books. Mom told me. Books no more than three inches high. A nice spider-size book, that's where I plan to be,” Jo Bell said.

“Where will I go?” Julep asked. “Do they have a dollhouse like the one you told us about in the kindergarten room at the Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary School?”

Edith turned to her youngest. Her eyes gleamed. “They have something much better than a dollhouse.”

“What?” Julep jumped up and down, so excited that she released a dragline.

“Pop-up books!”

“Pop-up books? What are those?”

“Books with movable parts. Some slide, some flip up or flap down — it's a whole tiny world in one book. There's a circus one. One has a ship on a sea with moving waves and sails. My mother — your grandma Violet — told me all about them. They have some of the oldest and best pop-up books in the world. And they still work!”

“Oh, wow!” the children all clamored.

“I want to go there!” Jo Bell said.

“Me, too!” Felix shouted.

“Mom, you said pop-ups are for me,” Julep protested.

“There is plenty of room for all of you.”

She turned to Fatty. “There's even one with a stage — the Globe Theatre. It's just paper. Make-believe,” she said with a slight tremor in her voice.

Fatty crouched down so that he was very close to his dear friend.

“It's all make-believe, Edith.”