(Search & Sitemap)
> Writing >
Longer Fiction >
Firestorm 2034 >
Chapter Fifteen: I Can't Believe...
Skip Back
Previous
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
Next
Skip Forward
Printer-Friendly Version
Nathella and Fiona were working in the kitchen; good smells came upstairs. The Kinsellas (and Taberah) settled down for a late dinner, a family complete, such as it were.
They sat in silence around the table; there was a simple joy in everyone -- or almost everyone. After Dr. Kinsella said grace and the food was passed around the table, Taberah broke the silence by saying, "Nathella, would you pass the I Can't Believe It's Not Better?"
Nathella smiled and passed the spread, and made a mental note to buy butter the next time she went shopping. As she passed it, she saw something in Taberah's face. "Taberah, are you homesick?"
Taberah looked at her. "What is 'homesick'?"
Nathella thought for a moment and said, "Homesick is when you aren't comfortable in one place, and you miss the place that is your home."
"I don't know if I'm homesick. Maybe. Yes. No. I don't know if I have a home; maybe if I understood the word better..." His voice trailed off, but the others remained silent. "It's just a bunch of little things, like strange foods and too soft bread without any rocks and no touching, not even wrestling, and... Or maybe that's not a little thing." He stared at his food.
Clancy said, "C'mon out back dinner. We can roughhouse in the back. Fiona and I wrestle a lot, only not recently. We've been busy with you, and we didn't know you liked to horse around. Fiona's in the house to be picked on," Fiona made a face at him, "and I'll flip you around. I would pin you, but you need to be soft on your feet."
Taberah's face brightened.
Nathella said, "Is there anything we can do that will bring you a little piece of home?"
Taberah hesitated, and then said, "Have you no wine in this country?"
Nathella smiled gently and looked at him. "Yes, we do, but not in this house. I'm an alcoholic."
Taberah asked, "What's an alcoholic?"
Nathella said, "Do you know the word 'drunkard'?"
Taberah said, "You're not a drunkard! I haven't seen you drunk. I haven't even seen you drink wine."
Nathella said, "Not now, but once my life was given over to alcohol. Escaping alcohol was the hardest thing I ever did, and if I start to drink, I won't be able to control it. It would control me. So I can't have alcohol in the house."
Taberah looked disappointed. He said, "Then it is good of you not to drink."
Nathella said, "Thank you, Taberah. Maybe sometime when I'm visiting with one of my friends, Aed will buy a small bottle of wine for you two to have. He likes a good drink, and he will have a beer when he's out with his friends. But he doesn't drink in the house. He doesn't want to tempt me."
Taberah smiled. He was warmed with a patient assurance that he would have wine, and was in no particular hurry. He looked around, and then his gaze settled on Fiona. "Why are you homesick, Fiona?"
Fiona smiled, and said, "I'm not homesick, at least not for a place. I wish it were Christmas, with the family and gifts and wassail and -- ooh! the music. I miss the music."
Taberah said, "What kind of music?"
Fiona said, "One is, O come, O come Emmanuel. Do you know it?"
Taberah thought for a moment, and then thought a little more, and said, "Could you sing it for me?"
Fiona sang, in her thick countertenor,
O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lowly exile here
Until the Son of God appear.Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Taberah said, "I think I know it. Let me sing it as I know it." He took a sip of milk, and then stood up on the chair, and began to sing:
Veni, veni Emmanuel!
Captivum solve Israel!
Qui gemit in exsilio,
Privatus Dei Filio.Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te, Israel.Veni, o Sapientia,
Quae hic disponis omnia,
Veni, viam prudentiae
Ut doceas et gloriae.Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te, Israel.Veni, veni Adonai!
Qui populo in Sinai
Legem dedisti vertice,
In Majestate gloriae.Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te, Israel.
Veni, o Jesse virgula,
Ex hostis tuos ungula,
De specu tuos tartari
Educ et antro barathri.Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te, Israel.Veni, Clavis Davidica,
Regna reclude caelica,
Fac iter tutum superum,
Et claude vias inferum.Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te, Israel.
Veni, veni o Oriens!
Solare nos adveniens,
Noctis depelle nebulas,
Dirasque noctis tenebras.Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te, Israel.Veni, veni, Rex gentium,
veni, Redemptor omnium,
Ut salvas tuos famulos
Peccati sibi conscios.Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel
Nascetur pro te, Israel.
Taberah sat down and was very still. The room was very still -- one could hear a pin drop. His singing voice was a tenor, but there was nothing flimsy about it; it was rich and powerful, like silver, like something between a stream and a waterfall, and for the moment he had looked like a bard. It was hard to believe that such a mighty voice, filled with silent strength, could come from such a tiny body -- and yet, somehow, after that song, Taberah did not again look tiny to the Kinsellas. Nothing about his physical appearance was changed, but none the less the way he looked to them was different.
Aed finally broke the silence by saying, "I never knew you could sing like that, Taberah, and I should very much like to have you over for Christmas. Is there any way I can thank you for that song?"
Taberah said, "Over for Christmas? All twelve days?"
Aed thought. School resumed classes from winter break on the third of January; getting permission to take time off through the seventh would involve some major administrative headaches. "All twelve days," he said. "I'll make sure of it."
Taberah said, "Then what I would most like for my song is to go out and wrestle."
Clancy bolted out of his chair and had Taberah in a fireman's carry before anyone else knew what was going on; Taberah was out of Clancy's grip and bolting out the door before Clancy knew what was going on. It wasn't until later that Aed wondered how he could run with healing, stitched lacerations in his foot; soon they were all outside, a crazy, happy, moving, squirming bundle of arms and legs with grass stains on its shirts. And Taberah was happy, happy as he could ever remember being.
It was only a few minutes before they were all sitting and panting; Taberah did not understand why they wanted to rest so soon, or why they didn't give him more resistance in the fray, but he basked in the afterglow. The memory of that moment would be a treasure to him as long as he walked the paths of the earth.
(Search & Sitemap)
> Writing >
Longer Fiction >
Firestorm 2034 >
Chapter Fifteen: I Can't Believe...
Skip Back
Previous
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
Next
Skip Forward
Printer-Friendly Version