or ¿How does Coraline appear back in her world after going to sleep?
As soon as Coraline's breathing became slow and even, The Mother began to make gestures at him. Well, now why would she do that?
"Is it Put Away time yet?" No answer to his whisper, only more gestures. Well, no point waking up the tired little bundle by chattering right there, in her room. Best to leave.
He glanced back, fondly, at the little lump on the bed.
But the Mother's gestures were becoming more urgent, more commanding, and so Other Father clambered to his feet and padded quickly to the door. He closed it carefully, and was grateful for the well-oiled hinges.
"What's wrong, Mother? Too much cooking? All tuckered out for the night? Time to recharge?"
Mother had been very accommodating of his questions when he'd first Come Alive. He wondered if the True Him was that way, if that's how she'd been ready for the thousand-and one-things he'd said just after his mouth had been properly sewed in.
He was her creation, she'd told him then, a loving father to the girl known as Coraline Jones, who'd he'd listen to and spoil, as her real family did not often do. He would also be the Mother's close companion in bringing Coraline over to stay, to be loved and beloved by the Mother forever. In exchange, Coraline would feed and strengthen Mother with her love.
My strength is your strength, Mother had told him. With Coraline here, you and I, and all the others, we'll all live long and healthy for a long time.
Mother looked distant, deaf to his words – which, admittedly, she usually did. Only the presence of the little girl truly did anything to anchor her to the present.
She turned without warning and began making her way down the stairs. Other Father scrambled after her a minute later, a little behind on his cue.
"You see, there are certain rules surrounding this…game." It was also a habit of Mother's to speak as if they'd been talking all the while. Other Father mentally backtracked, trying to find his footing in the conversation – did she mean rules for getting out of the room? No…Coraline's first night here? No…
"I could have offered Coraline the buttons this very night, you see, but I didn't."
Oh, so that's what it was about. "Well that wouldn't have been right. The fun's only just begun! She hasn't even visited the circus yet. Or seen the garden! Boy, will she ever go bananas over that one."
"Ah…that's…part of the reason." Mother went to stand by the door of the piano room, an amused chuckle following in her wake. Another cue. Other Father pondered for another too-long second before rushing forward to open the door. He did remember to stand aside and hold it, letting Mother walk in first.
This was standard Putting Away time: the time when Mother put her creations away, before going away to rest herself, and replenish all their strengths. His post for Putting Away time was at his piano stool. No need for a big clunky bed.
Unlike other times though, Mother didn't leave once he was comfortably seated. She walked around the room, pondering. A long time seemed to pass, her measured steps tippy-tapping in the silence.
"You see…come the morning of her own world, Coraline will be gone."
Other Father had been slowly fading by that time. "What?" Ah, Coraline. "Ohhhh…you mean she won't be here when she wakes up?"
"No." There was a hint of frustrated eagerness…or more of a truncated joy. Perhaps both were the same in a way, and which was which didn't matter. "She's still belongs to that world, the world above. She'll vanish out of here by sunrise. Pulled up by invisible threads."
"Ohhh…well, that's too bad." Really, it was.
"But I am working hard. To break the Upper World's claim on her, I need her to eat of our food three times."
Sometimes, it was as if Mother really didn't care for his actual words. The upside was that he could often say anything at all. "Ooooh. Magic number three."
"Oh yes. Eating of our food makes her more like us…as if the food were part of an acceptance of us, every time she eats it, she is more here than there."
"But why three?"
"It has to be three. It makes the transition complete." When she spoke like that, her words became measured, carefully enunciated like a lesson. "Three is the complete number…it has a beginning, a middle, an end. To have her eat three full meals breaks the threads tying her to the Upper World. Any less will make it incomplete…I'd have to share her. Let her…go."
Out from the darkness came the tip-tip-tap of fingernails. "And that, I cannot stand. I need that dealt with, before the buttons."
Measured steps made their way to the door. Now this cue, he knew: the conversation was finished.
As Mother tippy-tapped out the room, the doorway invisible with the lights now all off, Other Father thought he could hear a faint muttering of "pomegranate seeds."