Peaces

by Helen Oyeyemi

Do Yeon-ssi wanted to make a special point of reminding us that Árpád XXX was getting on for six years old, and that it was very important for mongooses to travel before they reach middle age: “Otherwise they get narrow-minded.”

I suppose carers can all too easily become captors, and with the best intentions in the world, we’d become just that.

The Paris parents overwhelmed him with their secrecy. Some of it was absolutely necessary in terms of avoiding prison, but there were too many non-illegal matters that they did their utmost to cover up. Things like having vulgar tastes, or not being happy, or being stressed out. He knew that sooner or later they would make him just like them, hiding things instead of dealing with them.

I never have anything up my sleeve except for the utterly fraudulent authority with which I assure you—yes, you—that you’ll get through this, whatever it is, and everything will be better. We both know nothing’s all right, but when I tell you it will be, you take it. If you don’t, it’s because you’re holding out for another outcome altogether.

Time, money, talent, and grit—I think I’d have been able to do more with my theremin if I’d been lacking only two of those four essentials. But I lacked all four.

And what did I have instead? Realism. What a gift! Most of the time it’s as if my life is hiding from me, but as I play, note by note, I echolocate it.

There is no point asking me why I get so angry. You should go to the people who are disrespectful until they get hit and ask them why they’re like that.

I’m here for Přem and Raúl and Tolay and the stories of their unseeing, which you will not be told now or ever. Because with people like you it goes in one ear and out the other until it actually happens to you. Then you’ll be googling for support groups and everything else.”

I, for one, welcomed the recent rainy spell. On strolls around the village I’m yet to tire of the thrill of leaving footprints in the mud.