Jackie

Underneath a star-speckled sky, a mother lies with her child. Wind whispers through the open square, chilling the night despite the season, but the child does not mind, bedecked as he is in his stone blanket. Nor therefore does the mother. The mother is telling the child stories, and the child is listening mutely. She describes her last few months staying with his siblings, detailing the shock on their faces when she appeared at their doors, recounting their strained smiles as she told them she’d be staying with them, laughing at their futile attempts to hide the states of their homes before showing her in. The child does not laugh back. That is okay.

The mother goes on. She tells the child about her big tour, seeing what his siblings have made of their lives, learning about their activities these days. All such grown-up things. Janie has finally taken the plunge and joined Lorah’s Cows. Jakob is studying with the Scholars. Jolene has started her own business. They are all such good kids. So is he, the mother tells him. The child does not respond. That is alright.

Gently, the mother tells the child that she will be leaving. That she will be undertaking a journey, like she used to before having all his siblings. That she needs to do this for herself. Still the child does not react. That is enough.

Finally, the mother comes as close to the child as she can, forehead pressed against the pile of wrapper-decorated rocks. “Jimmy,” she whispers to the grave, “you know I love you? You know that, don’t you? You know I’ll always love you, no matter what?” Jimmy does not reply. Jimmy is dead. That is okay.

Jimmy is dead, and his mother accepts that. But that doesn’t change how she feels. Jimmy doesn’t need to be alive for the mother to love him so hard it makes her chest hurt. So hard he’ll be able to feel it no matter where he is.

The mother curls next to the grave of her son, feeling the Summer breeze lick away the tears that fall, hoping that wherever Jimmy is, he is winning dares and picking fights with creatures ten times his size.

“Where is it?!” roared the gorilla, hoisting her up by a leg. Well, this wasn’t good. But how best to get out of this one, Hyacinth mused as she wiped a speck of spittle from her cheek. There was always plan F, but Hyacinth rather fancied she could get out of this one without relying on it.

“I simply don’t know what you’re asking about,” she sighed, fluttering her eyelashes innocently.

“Yes you do!” bellowed Grog. “Give it back to me, you little thief!” All around the gorilla, the members of his troop– one of many packs of animals Hyacinth had come across since leaving the City– growled in agreement. Okay then, playing dumb wasn’t going to cut it. Time for a Hyacinth specialty.

Letting her lower lip begin to tremble dangerously, she warbled, “There… there’s been some sort of m-m-misunderstanding…” Eyes wide. Let them begin to shimmer. Hold it. “I…” Hold it. “I…” Now! “I would never steal from anyone!” she wailed, releasing the flood of tears and snot.

Immediately, almost every gorilla backed away, horrified, embarrassed, and Hyacinth bawled harder, really putting on the waterworks. But Grog wasn’t so easily ashamed. He shouted to be heard above her howling sobs. “Stop this!” Hyacinth cried harder. “Enough! We all know you’re faking it! You won’t fool us. Give me back my ring, you–”

“PUT. HER. DOWN.”

A voice like thunder split the clearing. Grog shuddered backwards, immediately lowering Hyacinth to the ground and dropping her paw as though it burned. He turned to face the source of the command.

“How DARE you treat another animal like that, just because you’re big and strong,” seethed Jackie, marching straight up to the gorilla.

Grog swallowed. “She… she stole something from me.”

Hyacinth gave her biggest eyes and held out her paws. “I don’t even have anything on me.”

“Exactly! She doesn’t have anything, and you’ve just assaulted her for no good reason. What would your mother say? In fact, I’ve got half a mind to follow you back and explain to her exactly what you’ve done here.”

“No!” he yelled, backing up rapidly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. So sorry. I’ll leave you both alone. Sorry.” And with that he turned and fled, his fellow gorillas routing with him.

“Are you quite alright, dear?” asked Jackie. “Such an unreasonable brute.”

“Just fine now that you’re here,” Hyacinth grinned, flinging an arm over Jackie’s shoulder. “And unreasonable might be just a bit strong of a term…” She reached around to extract the diamond bedecked ring from around her tail. Jackie just stared at it, then laughed.

“Hyacinth, you are dreadful!”

“I know,” she smirked unabashedly. “That’s why I’ve got you looking after me.”

“And you looking after me,” smiled Jackie.

“Okay, we all know the plan?” asks Julian, looking around to the opossums assembled around him. “Jade, what’s your role?” he shoots.

Jade, who had been chewing absentmindedly on a fistful of moss, freezes. “Uh… I’m… bringing Mom to the sanctuary?”

A chorus of groans echoes through the squadron, punctuated by a shrill, “We’ve been over this twice!” from Jesse.

“No, Julia is getting Mom and walking her here,” explains Julian exasperatedly. “You’re just mentioning that you’re volunteering here so Mom is more likely to come. Who else doesn’t know their role?!”

The room rings suddenly with an unintelligible soup of proclaimed tasks.

“Meanwhile,” cuts in Peregrine sharply, quelling the chatter, “we’ll sort out getting our Mum to the sanctuary too.” The rest of his siblings nod their heads determinedly. “Shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll say a new animal’s arrived next door and needs some help settling in.”

“Good,” concludes Julian. “Then everyone knows what they’re doing. And remember! This all relies on our Mom and yours both not knowing that the other will be here. So whatever you do, don’t let our Mom see her bef–!”

“Don’t let me see who before what, Julian?” inquires Jackie, shuffling into the room. Julian chokes on his words, while everyone else freezes, guilty conspiracy flushing across their cheeks.

“Don’t let you see whom,” corrects Jeanine, plodding in through the opposite door. 42 pairs of horrified eyes reel across to her. “Really Jackie, I know the joeys are all grown up, but do you have to set such a bad example?”

Jackie smiles. “Jeanine! Age has not mellowed your pedanticism I see. It is just LOVELY to see you here.”

Jeanine returns it. “Yes, it seems ever so hard to be rid of your presence. Were you aware that there’s a freshly brewed pot of tea in the kitchen?”

“Can’t say I was. Whoever prepared that, I wonder?” Every single one of the opossums, both Jackie’s and Jeanine’s, cower.

“Well, it seems silly to let it go to waste.”

“Yes, quite PREPOSTEROUS, actually.”

“Shall we then?” offers Jeanine, gesturing onwards.

“That’s the first good idea you’ve had in years!” mocks Jackie, her and Jeanine waltzing out to continue their bickering elsewhere, leaving a room full of flabbergasted opossums.