screwdrivers and the finest-point tweezers I’d ever seen.
“Wow.”
“Thank you. It’s not so astounding as art, merely taking apart others’ inventions.”
“It’s still really neat.” He’d taken out a jeweler’s monocle and I put it to my eye, examining my fingernail. “You’re quite the mad scientist.”
“Not so mad. Just curious. Many of these things came to me broken. It’s very satisfying to understand them enough to make them work again.”
I pointed to a pocket watch in the drawer. “May I?”
“Please.”
I opened its face and peered at its insides through the monocle. Didier took it from me, just long enough to wind it so I could watch all its miniscule parts tick and snap and whir, like the X-ray of a marvelous little brass animal. “I can see how you might get lost in this.”
“Yes. I find it very interesting, these tiny spaces, like little rooms. Microscopic factories full of gears and springs. I find the human mind very interesting as well, but these… I feel I can understand these.”
I set the monocle down. “I think you understand people’s brains just fine.”
“Perhaps.”
Didier put away his tools and I strolled to the couch. I watched his back as he adjusted his collection, fussy but not obsessive. When he joined me I asked, “Have you ever owned an ant farm?”
“I haven’t, but I always wanted one. Have you?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t allowed any pets.” Actually it was my mother who oughtn’t be trusted with the care of an animal, but I didn’t elaborate.
“We always had fish when I was growing up,” Didier said. “They were the only pets my mother stood any chance of maintaining, she was out so much. Eventually I did all that, feeding and cleaning.”
“Flushing.”
He smiled grimly. “Indeed. I remember when the very first fish died, how I found it and agonized over telling her. Then she came home and I said, ‘Mother, I have terrible news. The fish has died.’ And she blinked at me and pulled a franc from her purse and told me to go and get a new one.”
I laughed.
“I was devastated, but to her it was as if a light bulb had burned out.”
“Did you get a new one?”
“Oh yes, we must have had twenty of them, at least, one at a time, one after the other. It did not upset me so badly after the first one died, because I loved the pet store. I would loiter there for an hour or more before selecting a fish, and then I would be so gentle and full of pride as I carried it home six blocks in its bag.”
“Six very carefully memorized blocks.”
“Indeed. If the latest fish died in the winter, I would keep the new one inside my coat, wrapped in my scarf as I walked home. I gave myself a cold once, doing that.”
“That’s sweet.”
Didier’s smile faltered. “They are nice memories, the fish. Until the last one.”
“Oh. Why?”
“The last time I was given a franc to buy a fish, when I was perhaps thirteen, it was taken from me.”
“Taken?”
He nodded, eyes cast down at the glass in his hand. “Older boys from my neighborhood, mean boys, pushed me down and took the bag.”
“What did they do?”
“I do not know. But it was one of the worst days of my life, as dramatic as that sounds. That stupid little creature was in my care, and I thought I was rescuing it from the pet store. But I didn’t keep it safe and who knows what became of it. Stepped on or tortured or who knows what. I felt very weak, very worthless for weeks.”
“And you never got another fish?”
“No. I tried to go back to the pet store, but the guilt hurt so badly, I was sick.”
“Oh my.”
“That was the first time I truly understood how unsafe the world can be. And how unfair it is for the gentler creatures in this world of bullies.”
I wondered if Didier meant the fish or his thirteen-year-old self. “That’s very sad.” I surprised myself, setting my hand on his forearm. He smiled at me, most of his melancholy seeming to
“Wow.”
“Thank you. It’s not so astounding as art, merely taking apart others’ inventions.”
“It’s still really neat.” He’d taken out a jeweler’s monocle and I put it to my eye, examining my fingernail. “You’re quite the mad scientist.”
“Not so mad. Just curious. Many of these things came to me broken. It’s very satisfying to understand them enough to make them work again.”
I pointed to a pocket watch in the drawer. “May I?”
“Please.”
I opened its face and peered at its insides through the monocle. Didier took it from me, just long enough to wind it so I could watch all its miniscule parts tick and snap and whir, like the X-ray of a marvelous little brass animal. “I can see how you might get lost in this.”
“Yes. I find it very interesting, these tiny spaces, like little rooms. Microscopic factories full of gears and springs. I find the human mind very interesting as well, but these… I feel I can understand these.”
I set the monocle down. “I think you understand people’s brains just fine.”
“Perhaps.”
Didier put away his tools and I strolled to the couch. I watched his back as he adjusted his collection, fussy but not obsessive. When he joined me I asked, “Have you ever owned an ant farm?”
“I haven’t, but I always wanted one. Have you?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t allowed any pets.” Actually it was my mother who oughtn’t be trusted with the care of an animal, but I didn’t elaborate.
“We always had fish when I was growing up,” Didier said. “They were the only pets my mother stood any chance of maintaining, she was out so much. Eventually I did all that, feeding and cleaning.”
“Flushing.”
He smiled grimly. “Indeed. I remember when the very first fish died, how I found it and agonized over telling her. Then she came home and I said, ‘Mother, I have terrible news. The fish has died.’ And she blinked at me and pulled a franc from her purse and told me to go and get a new one.”
I laughed.
“I was devastated, but to her it was as if a light bulb had burned out.”
“Did you get a new one?”
“Oh yes, we must have had twenty of them, at least, one at a time, one after the other. It did not upset me so badly after the first one died, because I loved the pet store. I would loiter there for an hour or more before selecting a fish, and then I would be so gentle and full of pride as I carried it home six blocks in its bag.”
“Six very carefully memorized blocks.”
“Indeed. If the latest fish died in the winter, I would keep the new one inside my coat, wrapped in my scarf as I walked home. I gave myself a cold once, doing that.”
“That’s sweet.”
Didier’s smile faltered. “They are nice memories, the fish. Until the last one.”
“Oh. Why?”
“The last time I was given a franc to buy a fish, when I was perhaps thirteen, it was taken from me.”
“Taken?”
He nodded, eyes cast down at the glass in his hand. “Older boys from my neighborhood, mean boys, pushed me down and took the bag.”
“What did they do?”
“I do not know. But it was one of the worst days of my life, as dramatic as that sounds. That stupid little creature was in my care, and I thought I was rescuing it from the pet store. But I didn’t keep it safe and who knows what became of it. Stepped on or tortured or who knows what. I felt very weak, very worthless for weeks.”
“And you never got another fish?”
“No. I tried to go back to the pet store, but the guilt hurt so badly, I was sick.”
“Oh my.”
“That was the first time I truly understood how unsafe the world can be. And how unfair it is for the gentler creatures in this world of bullies.”
I wondered if Didier meant the fish or his thirteen-year-old self. “That’s very sad.” I surprised myself, setting my hand on his forearm. He smiled at me, most of his melancholy seeming to
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