It Is Said (Mathias Bootmaker and the Keepers of the Sandbox) (6 page)

Mathias felt the darkness in the theatre, felt that moment of anticipation. The theater and the void were in his mind. But unlike a finely tuned production, his pieces didn’t fit. The subtlety of memory was absent. His production was in grave trouble.

Mathias was in the midst of a performance about to begin, a performance he was a part of, but no one had provided him with a script. Not only was he a part of the show, he was apparently one of its central characters.

As he first walked, these costumed people began to greet him simply with nods from soldiers and waves from fireman. A fully geared astronaut gave him a thumbs up as he passed. As he got deeper into the crowd there were hugs from princesses and handshakes from magicians. A bevy of clowns enveloped him with good cheer. These people all knew him, but he knew none of them.

In order not to be recognized, Mathias started to cover his face and avert his eyes. He just wanted to be out of the focus and away from all of the attention.

Small carts and long tables had been placed all around the base of the grand fountain. Between each one there were beautiful, long, wooden racks filled with costumes. The tables were piled with hats and shoes and belts and scarves and ties. The carts displayed jewelry of all sorts, from the ornate and garish to the plain, yet beautiful.

Everything this populous of players would need to dress themselves for any performance, was here for them. Mathias watched as people dropped costume pieces and picked others up. Some of the people were being attended to by dressers. One of those dressers seemed to be supervising the others. The man noticed Mathias and started coming towards him.

He was tall and lanky. His hair was deep black, short, and very wavy. His ears were quite pronounced, as was his long chiseled nose. He wore a dress shirt buttoned at the wrist that was the color of buttermilk. His pants were the same color as the shirt, and had long deep pleats. A black belt with a gold buckle was wrapped around his waist. He walked proudly, and his gate was the essence of gentile grace.

“I am Adrian, the principal costumer,” he said with great flair and elegance. “It would be my extreme pleasure to personally assist you, Keeper Bootmaker.”

Now Mathias had a name, and a title. The latter was familiar, the former was a mystery.

“I’m looking for a disguise,” Mathias said.

“A disguise?” the costumer questioned. “But,” he added hesitantly as he eyed Mathias up and down, “you are playing yourself today, Keeper Bootmaker.”

“Well I’m not feeling much like myself today,” Mathias said with a fake smile.

“I see,” said a confused Adrian. “Pardon my saying so Keeper Bootmaker, but you appear to have just gotten out of bed. Or are you involved in a story concerning sleep?”

“Apparently I am,” Mathias said. “Can you help me with what I seek, Adrian?”

The costumer looked Mathias up and down once more.

“Are we seeking something simple or something complex?”

“Simple is always best. Quickly would be even better.”

The costumer seemed to take offense at the request for a hasty solution. He raised his eyebrow and put out his arm.

“Your robe, if you would, Keeper Bootmaker.”

“Must we be so formal?” Mathias asked as he slipped off the robe and handed it to the costumer. “Mathias is a fine name.”

“As you wish, Keeper,” he began to reply. “Mathias,” he corrected quickly.

Adrian took the robe in hand and examined it carefully.

“This garment is one of my pieces,” he said with a smile. “You have excellent taste. From this point forward, you and I will get along famously.”

“That pleases me greatly, Adrian. Your suggestion, quickly, would please me even more.”

Adrian turned to one of the racks and pulled a black velvet hanger from it. He draped the garment over the hanger.

“Would you like us to send this to your home?” he asked.

“That would be wonderful,” Mathias said, hoping that Adrian wouldn’t ask him where that was.

The costumer hooked the robe to the rack and Mathias watched it dissolve away to nothing. The robe was now back in his house. Mathias smiled a bit as he realized that a piece of fabric was more informed than he was at the moment.

“My suggestion would be a cloak with a hood,” Adrian said.

“Simple enough.”

“Simple may seem simple, but it can be quite deceiving,” the costumer explained. “A short cloak will make you appear taller. A long cloak will make you seem shorter. Place a wedge of padding in the shoulders and you become a much larger man. Take them away, allow the fabric to drape your form, and you can make yourself less than what you are.”

“I wish to be invisible.”

“That, Mathias,” the costumer said quietly, “is a matter of the mind, not the garment.”

Adrian reached for the rack again. On the hanger where the robe had been there was now a long, black, hooded cloak. With one hand he peeled the costume piece off the hanger. He swirled the garment in front of him. As it spun open, the costumer guided it onto Mathias’ shoulders. As it draped into place, Adrian took the hood in hand and slid it over his client’s head.

Mathias felt the weight of the robe fall upon him. He was the same man, but he felt different. He wasn’t as tall. He wasn’t as square shouldered. The hood allowed the target of recognition, that was his face, to be hidden. The garment was perfect.

“Remember, Mathias, the clothes are not what makes you who you are. The clothes are what you dress your form with. That form can be whatever you want it to be. You just have to imagine it, believe it and make it so.”

Three very simple things, Mathias understood that, but simple things are not so simple when you have no idea who you are.

“Thank you, Adrian,” Mathias said sincerely.

“It was an honor,” he replied with a bow. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Keeper Bootmaker?” the designer asked dutifully.

Mathias puts his finger to his lips to indicate silence.

“Ah yes. You are in disguise now,” the costumer said with a smile. “I wonder who you must be?”

Mathias wondered the same thing.

Properly cloaked, Mathias left Adrian and his retinue of dressers behind and made his way through the crowd again. Confident that he wouldn’t be easily recognized, he moved quickly. He had no idea where he was going. He just needed to be away from the crowd. He needed a moment to think.

Mathias was moving quickly when a child, moving just as quickly as he was, ran right into him.

The little boy bounced off of Mathias and fell to the ground.

“I’m very sorry, sir. So very, very sorry,” the boy said as he stood and brushed himself off. “I have a poem to rehearse. I have to tell it at the castle for the celebration today.”

Mathias was looking down at a little boy dressed as a railroad engineer. He was wearing blue overalls with white stripes and a matching cap. A red bandana was tied around his neck. He was very sweaty, and spotted with grease.

 
“Are you running to catch your train, son?” Mathias asked with a smile.

“No, sir,” the boy said. “It’s very heavy and moving fast. Trying to catch it wouldn’t be wise.”

Mathias laughed out loud for the first time in a long time. The boy didn’t think that was funny at all.

“No, I suppose that wouldn’t be wise,” Mathias said.

The boy pulled a gold pocket watch from his pocket. A long gold chain came out along with it. With one hand he snapped it open, checked the time, snapped it shut and returned it to his pocket.

“With all due respect, sir,” the boy began, “my train is making trips around our world. Each trip takes a specific amount of time. I must return in four trips in order to relieve my fellow engineer.”

“That sounds extremely efficient.”

“It is, sir,” the boy continued. “But unfortunately, it doesn’t give me much time to rehearse.”

“I can see how that would be difficult,” Mathias sympathized.

The boy was still standing there looking up at Mathias.

“Well, off with you then,” Mathias instructed.

“May I have my poem?” the boy asked politely, but impatiently.

When the two collided, the papers on which the poem had been written transferred hand to hand. Mathias hadn’t noticed that he was holding the much needed tome. He handed it to the boy who took off.

“Good luck,” Mathias shouted after the boy. “I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“No luck needed, sir,” the boy shouted back to him as he ran. “I’m rehearsing with Mother Bootmaker!”

Mathias had just heard two words that he hadn’t expected to hear together. He quickly decided to follow the boy.

The little engineer darted in and around the crowd. Mathias stuck to him. The boy did not make that easy. At one point Mathias had lost him. Then he caught a blur of blue slipping between two knights on horseback. Mathias ran around them.

The boy had stopped at an open clearing with two large tall trees. Between them was a fanciful gypsy wagon. It was painted in colors of blue and gold, and it was covered with stars. At the rear of the wagon there was a door. Above it was a sign that read,
Margery Bootmaker
. Below it was a set of steps and that is where the woman herself sat.

Mother Bootmaker was a woman of age, but she radiated a youthful energy. She was not thin, nor was she heavy, she just seemed happy, and so was the little audience in front of her. There were two rows of ten benches each before her. They were all filled with children listening intently to the woman on the wagon steps as she told them a story.

“Then the dragon closed the book from which he taught his lessons,” she was telling.

There was a buzz of whispers amongst the crowd.

“Then he left,” she added dramatically.

“No!” shouted one little girl.

“There is no need for sadness,” Margery said directly to the girl. “For, his great wings, sweeping up the air as he went, fanned the flames of the fire. That fire burned brighter than anyone had ever seen before, and it burned for generations.”

The audience approved and clapped and cheered loudly. Mathias watched as the woman who could be his mother stood on the bottom step and bowed. Her long hair went with her. It became a fan of silver and black as she stood back up and returned the applause to her audience. Then she sat, and they sat too.

“Did you like the story?” she asked the group.

They all shouted their approval. Except for one older boy in the last row, and Margery noticed.

“Did you not like the story, Bruno?” she called to the back.

Mathias heard a click and a snap. The little engineer was checking the time.

“I did, Mother Bootmaker,” Bruno said as he stood, “and I enjoyed your telling of it very much. I just thought it was an easy choice of
 
tale. It is a classic.”

“It is,” she said, “but the classics can be the most challenging. They have been told over and over, but you must make all the right choices to have it live again.”

“I understand, Mother,” he said.

“Do you have a favorite classic tale?” she asked.

“I do,” Bruno said firmly.

“Prepare and bring it for next time,” she suggested.