18. Back Then
Back Then
Jennie would often bring Helena on family outings, particularly when Gerard was working late, as he often was.
The Autumn Faire was one such occasion. Bertram and Helena shared candied apples and buckets of popcorn.
Helena squealed over bouquets shaped like shroos.
They were made up of white and yellow pansies in a round bouquet, with two black tulips in the center for eyes, and sparkly cardboard wings stuck in on a flimsy wooden stake.
She lifted one up, as though to purchase it, but put it down quickly after reading the price tag.
For his part, Bertram bought an action figure of a knock-off magical superhero, but he sort of wanted to buy Helena the shroo bouquet as well.
They moved on to playing carnival games.
Bertram was impressed with Helena’s uncanny ability to win at ring toss.
She had no athleticism, and yet something about the probably-rigged-anyway game appealed to her.
Urghk seemed completely unable to accept Helena’s superiority at any activity involving throwing and challenged her over and over.
By their third rematch, Bertram was rolling his eyes and huffing loudly with impatience.
“Come with me,” his mother said. “We’ll find something fun to do.”
They wandered around, looking at various booths—stalls with games, stalls selling trinkets. At each one, Bertram declared that it did not appeal to him. He was in a belligerent mood, which he was mature enough to recognize but not mature enough to change.
“Oh, The Ratcatcher is here!” Jennie clapped her hands with glee. “We should go, get your fortune told!”
Bertram looked at the ragged tent, all purple velvet and beaded curtain.
The sign that said RATCATCHER: STORIES TOLD had illustrations of cartoonish rats who were much cuter than any rat Bertram had seen in real life.
Then again, he had never seen rats wearing top hats or staring into crystal balls in real life, and that’s what they were doing on the poster.
“I don’t want to,” said Bertram.
“She’s a lot of fun,” Jennie promised. “Don’t you have any questions you want answered?”
Bertram did have a question—he was wondering if it would be okay for him to buy Helena the shroo-shaped pansies she was looking at.
He could tell she wanted them badly, but she would never ask Jennie and Urghk to buy them for her.
Would it be okay for Bertram to get them for her?
Would that seem too much like a romantic gesture?
He was fifteen and she had just turned fourteen and the divide between those ages felt like an ocean.
Bertram would never be inappropriate toward Helena, and he wasn’t sure if the pansies were inappropriate.
It’s just that, even though Helena drove him up the wall sometimes, he liked when she was happy.
But the implications of shroo-shaped pansies was probably not the kind of thing you asked a fortuneteller.
“Come in, come in,” said the Ratcatcher at their approach.
She was a small, older woman with a mass of tangled brown hair in which were playing several rats. Bertram had wondered if “Ratcatcher” were a name or an actual title—it appeared now to be the latter.
“What’s your name, kiddo?” the Ratcatcher asked as she began shuffling her deck of cards.
“Mr. Improbable,” Bertram answered.
It was the name of the action figure he’d just won.
“It’s Bertram,” Jennie said with a reproachful look.
“Bertram. Bertram.” The Ratcatcher scrunched up her nose.
She absentmindedly pet the fat rat beneath her hand.
Her eyes darted to and fro as she said Bertram’s name, as if it was vaguely familiar and she was trying to place it.
Whether this was part of her act or the Ratcatcher truly believed she knew him, Bertram was unsure. He was uncomfortable either way.
“Beeeertraaaam. Bertrammmmm.” The Ratcatcher’s eyes went wide. “OH! Yes. Okay. I can work with that. Sure. Standard three card spread, for whatever donation you think is appropriate.”
Jennie reached into her purse and pulled out a bill, which she held out. The Ratcatcher snapped her fingers. A fat, tan-and-white rat bounded over to Jennie, took the bill in his mouth, hopped back to the Ratcatcher, dropped the bill, and turned and bounded back to Jennie once more.
“The Rat suggests you may have more to contribute, commensurate to your income,” the Ratcatcher said, almost apologetically.
Jennie fished out another bill with no hesitation. The rat took it, brought it back to the Ratcatcher, and then started to head for Jennie once again, but the Ratcatcher quickly grabbed him around the middle and threw him back onto her shoulder.
“Don’t get greedy, Erwin, you fat fuck,” the Ratcatcher murmured as she scratched him under the chin.
She brightened as she turned and addressed the humanoid beings in the room.
“Sorry about that! Please forgive my associate. He’s quite persistent; it may have been a mistake to put him in charge of my finances. ”
The poor rat’s eyes bugged out of his head and vibrated while his teeth chattered nervously.
“Is he scared because you’re mad at him?” Bertram asked, gesturing to the quivering rat.
The Ratcatcher rolled her eyes. “No, he’s happy because I’m giving him attention. That’s how rats purr—with their eyeballs. My chastising means nothing to him, and his greed sickens me. Alright! Let’s get you that reading, Bertram.”
The Ratcatcher spread the cards out across the table. She brought three forward into a straight line. She flipped the card to the very left face up.
“Ah yes. The Duo.” The Ratcatcher nodded knowingly and tapped the card.
Bertram leaned forward, peering at the image of two rats, their arms around each other as they gazed into a bright blue orb.
“Two times two, with two meanings,” said the Ratcatcher.
“The first meaning: that there will be two of you, you and a true love whose lives are closely entwined, for better and for worse, with much love and learning. The second duology of the matter is that for you to find your second half, two conditions must be met. They are as such . . .”
The Ratcatcher flipped over the card in the middle, which had a picture of a simple, unadorned ring. “The Soul Ring. Your true love must wear your ring, without you having given it and without them having stolen it.”
Bertram wrinkled his nose. This seemed an impossibility, but perhaps the second condition would be more easily met.
“And?” he asked.
The Ratcatcher flipped over the final card. A handsome rat in old-fashioned human garb stood surrounded by swirling scrolls, a ghostly spirit peering proudly over his shoulder.
“The Moon’s Legacy,” the Ratcatcher said. “Your true love will bring your child into this world, without being pregnant by you or giving birth.”
Bertram blushed. The lingering implication of how a pregnancy might even occur was enough to make him uncomfortable with his mom in the room.
The Ratcatcher seemed to notice this.
“Sorry,” she said. “Here, let me turn over one extra card for you, free of charge. The Mentor. You will learn much and teach much as well. But you will learn even more.”
Bertram breathed out at this—it was so generic that it was suddenly much easier to remember that these fortunes were completely made up, by someone who looked like she was maybe a rat cursed to be a human or maybe a human who was part rat or maybe just a human who liked to hang out with rats and make up stories.
Either way, it all became much less intimidating.
“Thank you for a great reading,” Jennie said, beaming.
“Our pleasure,” said the Ratcatcher. “Oh, and Bertram? You’re overthinking it. Just get her the pansies. They’ll make her happy.”
Bertram nodded and hesitantly patted the treasurer rat on the head on his way out. The rat chittered pleasantly, and Bertram decided maybe he liked rats more than he realized.
The Ratcatcher, on the other hand, he did not so much like.
“That all sounds impossible,” Bertram complained to his mother as they walked back toward Urghk and Helena. “I’m supposed to propose to my true love without giving her a ring, but she has to have the ring, but she can’t have stolen it? And the whole—the whole baby thing—”
“Oh, Bertram.” Jennie smiled. “Are you actually worried?”
Bertram didn’t quite know how to respond. Jennie’s tone sounded amused, and at Bertram’s expense for that matter, but she had been the one to suggest they visit her in the first place.
Jennie shook her head. “It’s just for fun. The Ratcatcher has a flair for the dramatic and is good at entertaining. She can’t actually see your future.”
“Okay, good. I didn’t think so,” Bertram added, quickly, “but I’m glad you didn’t either.”
It wasn’t until after he bought the shroo-shaped pansy bouquet and gave it to a delighted Helena that he remembered he had never voiced his question about it to the Ratcatcher aloud.
Suddenly, the little room felt less embarrassing and more ominous, and Bertram’s stomach churned as he wondered if perhaps the trick of the ring and the baby may end up mattering more than he wanted.