Chapter Twelve – Lucita
Each time Tanner and Pazu shared a meal out in the fields, Pazu noticed something. It even happened when Tanner took a drink, whether it be milk or tea or just water from the stream - just his hands cupped to make a bowl, the clear water dripping from them like pearls. Tanner would pause. When he drank the pause might only be a few seconds, but when he ate he would sit, back against a dry stone wall, his legs splayed out in front of him and his meal opened from its paper cover and laid out between his knees. And then, just before he ate, he would stop. Pazu might be halfway through his slice of pie by then, ravenous and chewing like a starving man. But one day, carrot day it was, Pazu halted, his mouth full of food, and watched the big man. He sat there, legs apart, meal ready and then he lay his hands on his legs, palms upwards and open and closed his eyes for twenty or thirty seconds. Then, he opened his eyes, grabbed his food and tucked in, as hungry as Pazu.
"Why do you do that?" the boy asked
"Thankin' 'er," Tanner replied through a mouthful of pastry
"Who?"
"Lucita."
Pazu stopped chewing, his mouth hung open, he was so surprised.
"It might not be hers though," he said
"Eh?" now Tanner stopped eating and gave him a confused look
"She might not have prepared it, Morwen might have."
"Whatcher on about lad?"
"Why are you thanking Sheeta when it might have been your wife who made that lunch?"
"I don't get yer, Pazoo, ye's not makin' sense."
"Well what about when you drink your tea? You stop and think about something then as well."
"Aye, I do that 'n all. D'ye have a problem wi' it?"
"But you make the tea, Sheeta doesn't."
For a moment Tanner stared at him like he was an idiot, then the big man's red face split into a huge smile. He started to laugh. He laughed so hard he had to spit his pie out else he would have choked on it. He sat there, doubled over, hands on knees howling with mirth. He sat up and looked at the boy and Pazu saw there were actually tears on his face.
"Not Sheeter, Lucita. Loo-seet-her," he pronounced the name slowly, "wash yer ears out lad!"
Still chuckling he returned to his meal.
"Yes, that's what I said, Lucita," Pazu pressed on
"No, no, yer don't get it, do yer? The name isn't yer girls name, it's diff'rent."
"No it's not, that's her name."
"Are ye daft in th' 'ead as well as deaf lad?" Tanner sounded cross now, "peoples don't 'ave two names now does they? Hm?"
"Sheeta does."
"Don' be silly, what'd a person do wi' another name? One for weekends now is it?" he chuckled
"Sheeta is the name her grandmother gave her. She told me. Lucita is her proper name. I suppose her father gave her that. But she didn't say."
"Really?" now Tanner looked puzzled, "well, now that's strange."
"Why?"
"Same as Lucita then."
"Uh… yes?" Pazu was getting lost now, "But how did you know that was her given name? Her proper name? Did she tell you?"
"C'mon lad, what ye on about? None of this is makin' sense ter me. So Miss Sheeter does 'ave two names then? Lucita as well?"
"Hm."
"Right. Well that's a damn fine funny thing that is."
Pazu waited for the big man to explain that last remark. But he didn't. He sat quietly for a few moments, shaking his head in what seemed to be amazement, then he picked up his pie again and began to eat.
"Tanner? Why did you thank Sheeta for the food though? I'm still missing something here I think."
"I didn't thank yer girl, Pazu, I though' I'd made tha' quite clear. I thanked Lucita. Same name t'would seem, diff'rent person."
"Who's Lucita?"
"Hey, up, 'ere we goes."
Tanner looked around him, saw a small blue flower growing by the wall and pointed at it.
"Lucita." He said, solemnly.
Then he picked up one of the carrots.
"Lucita."
He put it down and looked around, remembered the pie in his hand and waved it under Pazu's nose.
"Lucita."
Finally he found a tiny beetle on the wall by his shoulder, gently eased it off and encouraged it onto his finger. He showed Pazu the finger and the small red beetle on the tip.
"Lucita," it was Pazu who spoke
"Aye up, nows yer getting' it."
Pazu looked around and pointed down the hill at the stand of trees.
"Lucita?" he queried
"No." Tanner smiled at him, he was enjoying this.
Pazu stood up and looked around the little valley. Up on the sheepfold the grey-white backs moved slowly among the bracken. Heads down, eating. Always eating.
"The sheep. Are they Lucita?"
"Ah, now then there's interestin'. They was, once. So was the trees, once, I guess, though not in my lifetime, lad."
"Young things." Pazu suggested
"Ye got it. Tha's right. Ye's pretty bright for a young 'un. Young life. An' seeds an' eggs an' such. Growin' things. When them sheeps was lambs, they 'ad Lucita in 'em, or mebbe watchin' over 'em."
"A god?" asked the boy
"Hm, a spirit more like. Lucita be the spirit of birth, an' growin' things an' all life startin'. She be the mother spirit, the earth spirit, where we all comes from. Yer and me too Pazoo, yer an' me too."
"But the food?"
"Ah, right, that all comes from the land too yer see? Lucita's spirit creates it, makes it grow. All the seeds. And when I gets ready ter eat, I just takes a moment ter say thanks to 'er fer me food. Are ye understandin' now?"
"I am. I think so."
"And young Pazoo, the soil be where we returns too, ye know? It ain't Lucita that be callin' us back, some other bastard does that, but she takes what the other man gives 'er and she'll use that ter make new life."
Pazu had never heard Tanner use a bad word, not even when the potato turning plough had jammed and he'd had to spend an hour under it, freeing one of the blades. He looked at Tanner, who continued to speak, but quietly and in a very different tone of voice.
"Every one o' us Pazoo lad, we's all goin' back ter the soil, one day. But whens we gits there, Lucita takes out our bad parts and keeps the good, an' she'll use that ter make new life. Bits of yer might one day be a flower, or a beetle, or a lamb, yer see?"
Suddenly Pazu took a wild guess.
"I'm sorry."
"Fer what?"
"Your son. You had a son didn't you? Until last harvest."
Tanner didn't answer for a long while.
"When it happens, Pazoo, lad, yer needs to move on. Rememberin' is good, 'tis a way of honourin' those what have left us behind, but yer shouldn't dwell on it. I doesn't, I 'as to look to the future. Farmers do."
"I understand. And I am sorry. I just wanted you to know."
"Yer needs to look ter the future too me lad. That girl o' yers fer example."
"What about her?"
"Crazy about yer she is. I reckons she loves yer."
"She does? Did she tell you?"
"No, but goodwife Morwen talks to 'er. And she cries a lot, in 'er sleep."
"She does?"
"Aye. I reckons you might wanner talk to 'er 'bout that cryin'. Ain't doin' 'er no favours at all it ain't."
"I've been wanting to talk to her all week, but I think she's avoiding me."
"Hey, argued wi' 'er have ye?"
"Hm."
The man and the boy ate in silence for a while.
"Can I ask you something Tanner?"
"Ask away lad, but don' try me wi' any clever questions, I's only a farmer."
"It's a personal question. Is that all right?"
"Ask it and if it's too pers'nal, I'll not answer ye."
"Have you ever been in love?"
Tanner chuckled, the question seemed to surprise him.
"Ooh, aye, still am, in a way."
"With Morwen?"
"O' course! Who d'ya think? Them ruddy dogs?"
Pazu swallowed, despite the gravy in the pie his mouth was dry.
"What does it feel like?"
"Oh, well, now there's a damn fine question and no mistake. Wha' does love feel like? Hm… It depends on the kind o' love I reckons. If like you's wi' a girl and you kin hug 'er and kiss 'er an' whatnot, and like go fer walks up in the top field where no-ones a seein' the two of yer, then 'tis a fine feeling. It's like – oh, like yer feet ain't touching the ground, but yer's floatin' along like an airship, floatin' in the air. An' everything in the world is good, ye know? Everyone yer meet is smilin', the sun is out an' the birds be a singin'. When yers in love and it goes well, that's how it is. Yer wants to dance an' sing an' hug everyone."
Pazu had caught glimpses of that, he knew he had, when he was near her and she was in a good mood. When they'd landed on Laputa and fallen on the grass and held onto each other, he had felt it then, he was sure of it. That half an hour they had alone on Laputa before the Goliath had arrived was, for him, almost perfect. He felt like he and she could have lived there, just them and the animals and that tree. And that bright beautiful morning they had come back from Tepis Fortress and she had held onto him tightly and he'd put an arm around her, he'd felt it then. He'd felt like, if Muska had shown up right there, in a Flaptor of his own and chased them, he'd have taken one of Dola's guns and shot the man dead, because he had no right to interfere with Sheeta's life. A burning desire to protect her, no matter what.
For a wonderful few moments a feeling of great happiness came over him. He did love her, he knew that now.
"But at other times, lad, 'tis not so nice. When yer love someone and they go away niver to return, or if yer love someone and they don't love yer, or worst yet, the person ye loves has another person they's in love with an' won't look at you, well then that's when it feels the worst. 'Tis like, ye have a stone inside yer, a big heavy weight that niver goes away, and it burns yer insides up and makes yer feel hopeless, like yer wanter kill yerself. When love goes bad, Pazoo, it's the worst thing in the world."
dad
Pazu had felt that too, for a long while. After the explosion that took them both away that day, he had felt it. For a boy of eight, it was a crushing thing, the life went out of him for several months until Okami pulled him through it and the Boss gave him work to do.
"We needs ter be getting back ter work, lad. We kin talk more later, if yer needs ter."
"There is one other thing. I sometimes feel something else, and it's not either of the feelings you've told me about."
"Oh, aye, what's it like?"
"I can't explain it, it's like I feel as though I want to do something but a part of me is telling me it's wrong."
"Do somethin'? Such as?"
"I'm sorry, I feel bad about this, I feel, well guilty I suppose."
"Yer kin leave it if yer wants lad, I'm nae forcin' yer ter tell me."
"No, I want to. It's just. Embarrassing."
"Oh, I see. Sounds serious. What sort o' times does it happen?"
"The morning we came to the farm, we'd camped out that night in the glider."
"Lifeboat," Tanner gently corrected him
"Glider," Pazu repeated, "I'll tell you about that later. But it was the morning and Sheeta wanted to bathe. And her ankle was badly hurt so I carried her down to the stream for her to wash. I turned my back when she took her things off and went away, you know, so she could do what she needed to do. But…"
"Ye looked. Didn't yer lad? Yer sneaked a look at her."
"Yes," Pazu felt bad about this.
Tanner gave him a wide and very kind smile.
"'Tis quite alright lad, I'll not be tellin' anyone. How did yer feel?"
"I had this bad feeling inside me, a hot feeling. I wanted to go up to her and push her onto the ground. And…well… touch her."
"'Tis alright lad. There's nothin' wrong in such feelin's. They's quite normal in lads I reckon. Yer know, Pazoo, there's times, sometimes, when I sees Morwen an' maybe she's in her bath or she's sittin on the bed and brushin' her hair an' I feels the same. And we's been married twenty five years. We was married oh, at about yer age I think."
"Really?" He was stunned
"Oh yes, had feelin's like that all me life, 'tis a part of bein' a man."
"What does it mean?"
"What do it mean? Ha! Well, I niver thought about that. I suppose it's yer natural instincts comin' out."
"Instincts?"
"Aye. We peoples is like machines really. We has this need to continue the yuman race I think, to 'ave children. Girls feel it a bit diff'rent so I'm told, a sort of broody way, like a hen, they have this need, a sort of protective feelin' but us men feels it like in a strong way. Do yer know what that feelin' is Pazoo? It's yer body wantin' ter make babies, that's what that is."
"But how can that be? I don't know how to?"
"Didn't yer mam or dad tell yer?"
"No, they died a long time ago."
"Oh. Well, in fact yer don't needs ter know," Pazu noticed that a stronger red colour was spreading up Tanner's neck and onto his face. The man was blushing! "But if truth be told, when the time comes yer don't actually need ter know. One day, you'll be with a girl ye love and she'll love ye and yer take yer clothes off and suddenly yer'll know what ter do. 'Tis a strong instinct and everyone has it, deep inside like a seed planted at birth. Like chick birds know to flap their wings instead of droppin' like a stone outer the nest. Yer just knows what ter do. And if we don't finish this carrot field Morwen'll know what ter do to us an' all. With them two devil hounds o' hers I don't doubt."
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
They had been back at work an hour and were three quarters of the way through the carrot field now. Pazu stopped for a pull on his water canteen. Tanner, grinning at him from a little way off, called over,
"And I'm thinkin' as well, when ye and yer girl is makin' babies lad, Lucita will be with yer then, the mother spirit is takin' care of her new lives even as they is bein' created. O' course some days lots o' people all over the world is at it. Like rabbits they are some days I reckon' and Lucita can't be everywhere at once, so sometimes she misses it an' the baby doesn't happen. Which is nice coz we gets a free practice like, and that's always fun."
The man bent to his work again, laughing. Pazu held the tin bottle to his lips, wondering if Tanner was pulling his leg or whether the sun was hotter today and he'd had a funny turn. Pazu put his canteen away but Tanner's smiling voice came wafting across the field once more,
"An' you, Pazoo, yer'll be twice as well looked after as the rest o' us, coz yer'll have two Lucita's lookin' after yer. One as a spirit watchin' over yer and another in yer arms making sure yer gets it right!" And he burst into loud laughter again.
Pazu went very red in the face, kept his mouth shut and went back to work.
--I--
---o-o-oOo-o-o---
I I
They were finishing up for the day, dumping the carrots into sacks and loading them onto Tanner's cart. They'd stay in the shed tonight and then Tanner would take them to market in the morning. Tanner's big, slow, old shire horse, Ono, waited patiently between the shafts, his head permanently in his nose bag.
"Somethin' else too, Pazoo. Lookit that."
The farmer pointed out some flowers growing in the soil they had just denuded of carrots. They were tiny pale blue ones, the same kind he'd used as an example when they had been eating their lunch.
"Forget-me-nots, they is called. Pretty eh? Now forget-me-nots is a flower what likes a lot o' chalk in the soil. And roun' 'ere we don't get much chalk. This is limey soil. Things like carrots an' beets an' potatoes love it. Dark an' rich an' full o' goodness. We was lucky when we moved 'ere and bought this farm. Good soil. Lucita is good friends to us, which is why I makes sure I is always polite in return. But now forget-me-nots don't agree wi' carrots, or potatoes. But sometimes Lucita will play a little joke of hers, a little trick an' sometimes you'll see them flowers growin' right slap in a crop o' some plant what they usually hates to be near. Jus' like them ones there. And Lucita does that, she'll let grow a pretty flower here an' there and us farmers sees 'em and it makes us smile and brightens up our day, 'tis 'er way of tellin' us she's with us and watchin'. You get a carrot field what's got a few forget-me-nots in it and yer knows yer'll have a good crop, 'tis 'er way of puttin' us minds at rest."
Pazu looked at the pretty little blue flowers. And he had an idea.
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7 March 2007
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