Ella Minnow Pea (12 page)

In other news: (Yes, there is much other news to tell!) Someone is relaying threats to the Council. Each counciliteur has gotten a copy: “Cease the insanity or you will perish.” As a result, the—I must now call them what I am only too happy to call them: police goons—the police goons have gone house-to-house in their investigation, yet have yet to turn up anyone except the usual suspects—that is, virtually everyone on the isle not in Nollopian Cult thrallage. That isn’t all: the Council has put crepuscular-to-auroric house arrest upon all Nollop civilians not in league with the cult.

Almost all the villagers, Mother tells me, are leaving—either moving to Town or to the States. She says that it’s nearly a ghost town up there now. As there are no more customers, the store is no longer open. This is all right, though, she says; victuals were starting to run scarce. Soon she will have to come to town as well, to move into my Aunt Gwenette’s house. (At least I will get to see her again. I truly miss her.) Uncle Amos, I am sorry to say, is no longer
with us. There was a harsh exchange, Aunt Gwenette unhappy with his return to the alcoholic spirits! Now he lives with Uncle Isaac across town. Soon he will resolve one way or another—to leave or not to leave the isle.

Yes, that is now the topic on every lip. This salient, impertinent, Hamlettian choice.

To leave or not to leave.

To waive claim to our homes. To renounce our mother soil. To give up everything to those who warrant only our lowest contempt—to those who aspire to reign in outright tyranny, who misperceive Nollopian thoughts in service to rapacious intentions. Can they not see that
we see
what is happening here? Are we to them only silent, witless nonessentials—prostrate irrelevancies to step over in their march to own, to expropriate, to steal everything in sight—even our very tongues!

Nate, I have to tell you something important. I wasn’t going to; however, it seems crucial to me now that you have a true, complete account as to what is going on here.

I
wrote the letters. The ones with the threats. Were anyone to learn this, it will mean my ruin, perhaps even my execution.

(Smuggler-courier: my very existence is in your palms!)

I love you, Nate. I miss you greatly.

Tassie

PS. The Mephistophelians live here. Not in the Orient. You will get my meaning later.

Six big devils from Japan quickly forgot how to waltz.

NOLLOPVILLE

Riggy-roo, Octopus 20

Mrs. Mittie,

Help us.

Please. Something appalling has put my son Timmy in harm’s way. The school says that he is eight. The school says he was eight last month. Since last month he has not given any care to what he says. He thought—we all thought—that he was exempt. That his exemption continues until Novemgroogy 13, when he turns eight. When he truly, legally turns eight. It seems that someone at the Village Archives got it wrong. Unless we can prove otherwise Timmy will have to leave Nollop. We haven’t the necessary papers to prove our claim. We lost our last home, you see, lost everything in it to Hurricane Elspeth. Perhaps you might go to the school—might locate something to prove that Timmy won’t turn eight until Novempoopy 13; thus Council proclamata cannot in any legal sense apply to him. Otherwise he will have to go!

We implore you.

Sincerely
,

Georgeanne Towgate

NOLLOPVILLE

Satto-gatto, Octarchy 21

Mrs. Towgate,

I went to the school. With my erstwhile colleague Miss Greehy’s assistance I spent the morning searching all the papers pertaining to your son. I must relay that nothing that might help your case came to our attention.

I am truly sorry.

Sincerely
,

Mittie Purcy

PS. The tempera picture on your letter’s verso is really lovely. I am partial to seascapes; it will gain a choice spot on my wall.

NOLLOPTON

Sunshine, Octangle 22

Sweet, sweet Mittie,

I have ghastly news. They have Tassie. She awaits trial as suspect in those recent anonymous threats to the Council. Come as soon as you can. In the event there is a guilty ruling, expulsion will not constitute a legally punitive option. Such a ruling will only result in something much, much worse. Something I venture not even to say.

Gwenette

[Upon the Minnow Pea kitchen table]

NOLLOPTON

Sunshine, Octane
22

Gwenette, loving spouse,

Ella, my Ella,

A slip-up near a police goon. Now only minutes away: a rap on the portal, then a hasty trip to Pier Seven. Will I see you two prior to my leave? I’m sorry to hear the news concerning Tassie. Who is her lawyer? Are they even allowing her counsel? I might suggest someone. There isn’t much time, though.

Will you see me go, or will you remain at the Correctional Center with Tassie? I will neglect something, I am sure. Without your help. What a help you have—

Enough!

I simply can’t do it anymore. And why should I? Why be so careful now? Moments away from transportation to the dreaded “Pier of Goodbyes.” What’s the point? What is there left to lose?

Like a retarded robot I go into the preprogrammed mode, placing my brain on high-alert to avoid these Nollop-frowned-upon devil letters. The devils aren’t in Japan! The devils are here. Satan is alive and well, right here in all his z-q-j-d-k-f-b, jumpy-brown-fox-slothful-pooch-quick-and-the-dead-glory—right here upon this devil’s island of hatred and anger and unconscionable, inconsolable loss.

Hide this letter. Hide it well, but let me say the things that I must say. Before it’s too late. Let me say that I love you both dearly. Let me say that I am so very sorry for returning to strong drink, for turning my back on you when you needed me most. Now that I have a voice, there are hundreds of other things I want to say. But cannot. Look into my heart and know them all.

And find it in your own hearts to forgive me.

You don’t have to see me off. I know you’re worried about Tassie. Be there with her, for her. But if you do come, please do me a small favor—a large favor, really. I’m not able to transport my miniature moonshine jugs to the pier. I would like to take them with me, though. You know that where I’m going they will be as good as money. You’ll find them in my studio—stored together—all ten dozen of them. Half that number should suffice. Put them in one of the little crates; they’ll be easier to convey that way.

Would you mind doing this one last thing for me? Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs?

Thank you.

Be well. Be safe.

Until we meet again.

Your loving husband and father
,

Amos

Sunshine, Octonary
22

Notice to all Nollopians,

At precisely 12:00 tomorrow morning the letter “C” will cease to exist at all points on this isle. You will eschew its use or receive penalties as per earlier Council proclamata. We note that a “U” is gone as well. Its twin, however, remains intact.

Sincerely
,

Hamilton
Executive Secretary
Nollop High Council

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NOLLOPVILLE

Monty, Otter-paws 23

Mrs. Mittie,

I value, nonetheless, your going to the learny-house to help my son. Little Timmy values it as well.

He is gone now. Timmy. This morning. With Nash, my spouse. I must remain. I must remain, as I am without violation. Nash has two. One among us must stay. I am the one. Our home, our property—it’s all that we have, you see. Were we all to leave, they will expropriate it. They expropriate property, you’re aware, are you not?

Please exonerate me. In your heart. I am so sorry that I was the one to report your violations. I’m so sorry that I was to learn what is truly important in our lives too, too late.

Write me as well. When time permits. I am the last one on my street. It gets so still, so lonely here at night. Eerily still. Anguishingly lonely. Not, though, when the L. E. goons motor through—their horns wailing. Hooligans. As a rule, though, it is ghostly silent here.

How are you set with rations? I will soon have to miss one meal every sun-to-sun. Are you giving thought to moving to Town?

I may wish to go with you.

Write soon.

Georgeanne Towgate

PS. The painting was mine. It pleases me that you wish to hang it in your home! I will paint you more.

NOLLOPVILLE

Wetty, Onomatopoeia 25

Mrs. Mittie,

Where are you? You are not home when I go to your portal. When I ring, I note no movement within your house. Have you gone to Town? Have you gone to the States?

I am apprehensive. Am I now alone?

Georgeanne

NOLLOPTON

Thuringio, Otalgia 26

Sweet Tassie,

They will not let me into the prison to see you. I have spent the entire postnoon, all the early hours ensuing my arrival in town, waiting. Waiting here on the prison’s visitors’ lawn to see you.

Waiting.

Waiting.

They tell us nothing. (Will they even give this letter to you?) It is very upsetting. I want you to grasp how greatly I love you. I won’t try to learn why you sent the threats. They push us all to the point where we say things, operate in ways that are not at all as we really are.

Were anything to happen to you, what then?

With all my love
,

Mother

SOMEWHERE IN NOLLOP

Satto-gatto, Ottoman Ruler 28

To Tassie’s Mother Mittie,

My guess is that you are now with your sister, so I am routing this letter to her house. I am here in Nollop. (A stowaway, an illegal alien. I have spent the last 24 hours in nail-nipping intrigue!) All to see the one I love. To help the one I love. I am aware that they have put her in prison, though she will not stay there long. I will see to it. Wish me well.

Truly yours
,

Nate

[Upon the Minnow Pea kitchen table]

NOLLOPTON

Sunshine, O Tempora! 29

Ella,

While you were at the prison, attempting with your Aunt Mittie yet again to get in to see Tassie, men who were sent here to see me got themselves into our own sorry impregness with little struggle at all. Apparently, they were sent to interrogate me—the grilling pertaining to the now exanimate anti-high-priestal movement. Unhappy with my initial responses, they grew instantly perpy when I soon let slip an illegal letter. What enormous toothy grins! What mouth-enamel! You see, I gave them reason to transport me. To Pier Seven. Toss me right onto the emigrant trawler. No more Mum. One less agitator. (I am an agitator!) My leave happens very soon. As soon as I am through with this epistle to you.

It’s a weeping shame. Why, I am not even given enough time to gather my things! All my possessions, your Pop’s possessions are yours now, I suppose. Preserve them. Preserve our memory. I wish you to stay. You
must
stay.

Maintain the struggle. In our name. In our honor.

(I am so sorry that they will not permit me to see you prior to weighing moor. Give your Aunt Mittie a huge hug with my name on it. Tassie, as well.)

Until we meet again, sweet Ella.

With love always
,

Your Mum

NOLLOPTON

Sunshine, Overgarment 29

Mother, Ella:

You two must stop whiling your postnoons near the prison gates. They will not let you in to see me. Go now. There are things to attain elsewhere. You’re aware, right? The things I mean?