John Scalzi - Zoe`s Tale

Jane understood why I didn't want another Babar. It wasn't right to have a new one. It wouldn't be right to put something on top of those memories of her. To pretend that another Babar could replace the one she gave me. It wasn't the toy. It was everything about the toy.

I asked Jane not to tell John about Babar or what had just happened. I was feeling out of sorts enough having just gone to pieces in front of my new mom. I didn't want to drag my new dad into it too. She promised. And then she gave me a hug and we went to get ice cream, and I just about made myself throw up eating an entire banana split. Which to my eight-year-old mind was a good thing. Truly, an eventful day all around.

A week later Jane and I were standing on the observation deck of the CDFS Amerigo Vespucci, staring down at the blue and green world named Huckleberry, where we would live the rest of our lives, or so we thought. John had just left us, to take care of some last-minute business before we took our shuttle trip down to Missouri City, from where we would go to New Goa, our new home. Jane and I were holding hands and pointing out surface features to each other, trying to see if we could see Missouri City from geostationary orbit. We couldn't. But we made good guesses.

"I have something for you," Jane said to me, after we decided where Missouri City would be, or ought to be, anyway. "Something I wanted to give you before we landed on Huckleberry."

"I hope it's a puppy," I said. I'd been hinting in that direction for a couple of weeks.

Jane laughed. "No puppies!" she said. "At least not until we're actually settled in. Okay?"

"Oh, all right," I said, disappointed.

"No, it's this," Jane said. She reached into her pocket to pull out a silver chain with something that was a pale green at the end.

I took the chain and looked at the pendant. "It's an elephant," I said.

"It is," Jane said. She knelt down so that she and I were face-to-face. "I bought it on Phoenix just before we left. I saw it in a shop and it made me think of you."

"Because of Babar," I said.

"Yes," Jane said. "But for other reasons, too. Most of the people who live on Huckleberry are from a country on Earth called India, and many of them are Hindu, which is a religion. They have a god called Ganesh, who has the head of an elephant. Ganesh is their god of intelligence, and I think you're pretty smart. He's also the god of beginnings, which makes sense, too."

"Because we're starting our lives here," I said.

"Right," Jane said. She took the pendant and necklace from me and put the silver chain around my neck, fastening it in the back. "There's also the saying that 'an elephant never forgets.' Have you heard it?" I nodded. "John and I are proud to be your parents, Zoë. We're happy you're part of our life now, and will help us make our life to come. But I know neither of us would want you ever to forget your mother and father."

She drew back and then touched the pendant, gently. "This is to remind you how much we love you," Jane said. "But I hope it will also remind you how much your mother and father loved you, too. You're loved by two sets of parents, Zoë. Don't forget about the first because you're with us now."

"I won't," I said. "I promise."

"The last reason I wanted to give you this was to continue the tradition," Jane said. "Your mother and your father each gave you an elephant. I wanted to give you one, too. I hope you like it."

"I love it," I said, and then launched myself into Jane. She caught me and hugged me. We hugged for a while, and I cried a little bit too. Because I was eight years old, and I could do that.

I eventually unhugged myself from Jane and looked at the pendant again. "What is this made of?" I asked.

"It's jade," Jane said.

"Does it mean anything?" I asked.

"Well," Jane said, "I suppose it means I think jade is pretty."

"Did Dad get me an elephant, too?" I asked. Eight-year-olds can switch into acquisition mode pretty quickly.

"I don't know," Jane said. "I haven't talked to him about it, because you asked me not to. I don't think he knows about the elephants."

"Maybe he'll figure it out," I said.

"Maybe he will," Jane said. She stood and took my hand again, and we looked out at Huckleberry once more.

About a week and a half later, after we were all moved in to Huckleberry, Dad came through the door with something small and squirmy in his hands.

No, it wasn't an elephant. Use your heads, people. It was a puppy.

I squealed with glee—which I was allowed to do, eight at the time, remember—and John handed the puppy to me. It immediately tried to lick my face off.

"Aftab Chengelpet just weaned a litter from their mother, so I thought we might give one of the puppies a home," Dad said. "You know, if you want. Although I don't recall you having any enthusiasm for such a creature. We could always give it back."

"Don't you dare," I said, between puppy licks.

"All right," Dad said. "Just remember he's your responsibility. You'll have to feed him and exercise him and take care of him."

"I will," I said.

"And neuter him and pay for his college," Dad said.

"What?" I said.

"John," Mom said, from her chair, where she had been reading.

"Never mind those last two," Dad said. "But you will have to give him a name."

I held the puppy at arm's length to get a good look at him; he continued to try to lick my face from a distance and wobbled in my grip as his tail's momentum moved him around. "What are some good dog names?" I asked.

"Spot. Rex. Fido. Champ," Dad said. "Those are the cliché names, anyway. Usually people try to go for something more memorable. When I was a kid I had a dog my dad called Shiva, Destroyer of Shoes. But I don't think that would be appropriate in a community of former Indians. Maybe something else." He pointed to my elephant pendant. "I notice you seem to be into elephants these days. You have a Celeste. Why not call him Babar?"

From behind Dad I could see Jane look up from her reading to look at me, remembering what happened at the toy store, waiting to see how I would react.

I burst out laughing.

"So that's a yes," Dad said, after a minute.

"I like it," I said. I hugged my new puppy, and then held him out again.

"Hello, Babar," I said.

Babar gave a happy little bark and then peed all over my shirt.

And that's the story of the jade elephant.

There was a tap on my door, a rat-a-tat that I gave Hickory to use when I was nine, when I made it a secret member of my secret club. I made Dickory a secret member of an entirely different secret club. Same with Mom, Dad and Babar. I was all about the secret clubs when I was nine, apparently. I couldn't even tell you what the name of that secret club was now. But Hickory still used the knock whenever my bedroom door was closed.

"Come in," I said. I was standing by my bedroom window.

Hickory came in. "It's dark in here," it said.

"That's what happens when it's late and the lights are out," I said.

"I heard you walking about," Hickory said. "I came to see if you needed anything."

"Like a warm glass of milk?" I said. "I'm fine, Hickory. Thank you."

"Then I'll leave you," Hickory said, backing out.

"No," I said. "Come here a minute. Look."

Hickory walked over to stand next to me at the window. He looked where I pointed, to two figures in the road in front of our house. Mom and Dad. "She has been out there for some time," Hickory said. "Major Perry joined her a few minutes ago."

"I know," I said. "I saw him walk out." I heard her walk out, too, about an hour earlier; the squeaking of the springs on the screen door had gotten me out of bed. I hadn't been sleeping, anyway. Thinking about leaving Huckleberry and colonizing somewhere new was keeping my brain up, and then made me pace around. The idea of leaving was sinking in. It was making me twitchier than I thought it would.