I never knew what I was missing.
Fishing and music, I thought, were enough for me. I was part of the neighborhood and had a thriving career, and I thought a wife was just another thing I needed to fit in. Instead I discovered I’d been balancing on two legs of a stool, and I needed that third leg for balance.
What a week.
Let’s jump to the end. I’m a married man now.
But how I got here…
Music is like fishing.
You’re probably looking for some deep truth here, some insight to unify the guitar and the fishing pole. Fact is, I enjoy both of them. They make me feel good.
Oh, and they both have scales.
Ha ha.
I still fish whenever I can, starting right after I wake up. I should probably take a bit more care now that people know who I am; they start taking pictures. Any publicity is good publicity, so I hear. Besides, everyone already thinks I’m pretty strange, the green makeup rock star wannabe. What can fishing in your pajamas add to that?
I’ve heard of the “sleep of the just.” Is it sounder than normal sleep? I wonder why.
Does this mean I’m a just man? For this was the soundest sleep I’ve ever known in the short span of time my memory covers.
I thought there was no problem sleeping on library benches. In fact, I was curious why more people were not doing just that. It was free and easily available. Now I get it.
My own bed. It is comfortable and there are covers for warmth. More than that, though, is that it’s mine. I own it. There’s a comfort in knowing I’ll be sleeping in the same place tomorrow. It gives me a sense of belonging. If I do not know what life was taken from me, at least I know I can start building a new one now.
Except… Except without walls surrounding me I must sleep lightly.
There might be bears out there.
What do you do when you have nothing?
Go fishing.
Seriously. It sounds like the punch line to a joke, but it worked for me. There was a lake nearby, and a fishing pole lying by a picnic table. It wasn’t a fancy pole, but it was in good condition. Was I stealing when I took it, or did someone leave it there for me? I have too many questions and can’t possibly answer them all.
Who am I?
That’s a surprisingly good question. It should be easy to answer. If someone asked you who you were, I bet you’d rattle off an answer without a second thought. Every time you meet some one new, you can just give a simple answer. “I am—”
And there’s my problem. I don’t know.
As far as I can tell, my life started here.
That’s me.
Yes, I’m green.
The worst week of Aristotle’s life started with his birthday, and ended with his son’s.
His birthday was a surprise to him. Shea planned it, of course. As with anything she put her mind to, it turned out well, but he was truly surprised she got so many people to show up. He wasn’t loved; he was feared. That’s enough to keep people away, not enough to get them to show up.
But Shea wasn’t feared. She was a friend to everyone, the funny lady making it big on the joke circuit. Maybe they just showed up to see her, or to do her a favor, but they were still there, at Aristotle’s party. He was touched. Shea celebrated a bit more than everyone else, but they played along. And he had a good time.
Life was good.
In no time at all, they had their second child. A son, Blandinus Nobbs, and as healthy and beautiful a boy as any proud father could hope for.
“I don’t… That is… How can I?” Artimus was at a loss for words that night.
“What is it, honey?” Shea answered. “It can’t be anything bad,” she was smiling serenely, having just finished feeding the new baby. Brutus looked out of his room at them and got up, but just to shut his door angrily and go back to his drawings. It seemed he was displeased with the distraction of their voices.
It’s a strange thing, Aristotle thought to himself, that all he’s done to provide a future for his child must be hidden from that very child. As Brutus grew into a fine young boy, he found himself wondering if all he’d done for the boy was really for the best.
He’d arrived in this country with nothing, pursued by the hounds of hell itself. All he’d done was necessary to ensure he could survive and leave his family better off. True, he’d been driven into the underworld, but until now he’d thought it a needed trade and even a point of pride that he could accomplish so much.
But a little red-headed boy with his mother’s cheeks and his eyes, with a bright smile as he hugged his father to him… That was all it took to make him question himself. To feel shame that he had to hide his life from his boy.
His first child.
An heir to the Nobbs Legacy. The family would continue. No matter what had happened in Europe, he was alive. The Nobbs lived.
True, it might be a girl. She would be the first, but couldn’t inherit, the old laws were complex; heck, they were downright crazy, but they were traditions he intended to keep. He would still love a girl every bit as much. She would be family. Less worry if it was a boy, though.
His happiness overflowed, he babbled and went on about it. Shea smiled and enjoyed his attention.
The Alien Legacy 