The House in the Cerulean Sea(33)

Lucy deflated, bones rearranging themselves until he was nothing but a six-year-old boy again. “It is,” he agreed, as if he hadn’t just blown up to three times his size. “I tried.”

“That was a weird day,” Chauncey said, sliding a potato through his mouth with a tentacle. Linus watched as it slid down inside of him, perfectly clear though tinged green. It began to break down into tiny particles. “So many fish died. And then you brought them back to life. Most of them.”

“I’ve just … I’ve never had time,” Linus said, feeling dizzy. “I—too many responsibilities. I have an important job and—”

Theodore attacked the meat Ms. Chapelwhite had set on his plate, growling low in his throat.

“Arthur says that we should always make time for the things we like,” Talia said. “If we don’t, we might forget how to be happy. Are you not happy, Mr. Baker?”

“I’m perfectly happy.”

“You’re not happy being round,” Phee said. “So you can’t be perfectly happy.”

“I’m not round—”

“What is your job, Mr. Baker?” Chauncey asked, eyes bouncing on his stalks. “Is it in the city?”

Linus wasn’t hungry anymore. “I—yes. It’s in the city.”

Chauncey sighed dreamily. “I love the city. All those hotels that need bellhops. It sounds like paradise.”

“You’ve never been to the city,” Lucy reminded him.

“So? I can love something even if I’ve only seen pictures of it. Mr. Baker loves the ocean, and he only saw it for the first time today!”

“If he loves it so much, why doesn’t he marry it?” Phee asked.

Theodore chirped through a mouthful of meat. The children laughed. Even Sal cracked a smile.

Before Linus could ask, Ms. Chapelwhite said, “Theodore hopes you and the ocean are very happy together.”

“I’m not going to marry the ocean—”

“Ohhh,” Talia said, eyes wide, mustache twitching. “Because you’re already married, right?”

“You’re married?” Phee demanded. “Who is your wife? Is she still in your suitcase? Why would you put her there? Is she a contortionist?”

“Is your wife your cat?” Lucy asked. “I like cats, but they don’t like me.” His eyes started to glow red. “They worry I’ll eat them. To be fair, I’ve never had one before, so I don’t know if they’re delicious or not. Is your wife delicious, Mr. Baker?”

“We don’t eat pets, Lucy,” Mr. Parnassus said, wiping his mouth daintily.

The red faded from Lucy’s eyes immediately. “Right. Because pets are friends. And since Mr. Baker’s cat is his wife, that’s like his best friend.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Parnassus said, sounding amused.

“No,” Linus said. “Not exactly. Why, I never—”

“I like being round,” Talia announced. “It means there’s more of me to love.”

“I love you, Talia,” Chauncey said, laying one of his eyes on her shoulder. That same eye turned slowly to look at Linus. “Can you tell me more about the city? Is it bright at night? Because of all the lights?”

Linus could barely keep up. “I—I suppose it is, but I don’t like being out at night.”

“Because of the things in the dark that could rip your bones from your flesh?” Lucy asked through a mouthful of bread.

“No,” Linus said, feeling queasy. “Because I would rather be home than anywhere else at all.” That was truer now than it’d ever been before.

“Home is where you feel like yourself,” Ms. Chapelwhite said, and Linus could only agree. “It’s the same for us, isn’t it, children? Home is where we get to be who we are.”

“My garden is here,” Talia said.

“The best garden,” Mr. Parnassus said.

“And my trees,” Phee added.

“The most wonderful trees,” Mr. Parnassus agreed.

Theodore chirped, and Ms. Chapelwhite stroked one of his wings. “Your button, yes. It is here too.”

“What a lovely gift,” Mr. Parnassus said, smiling at the wyvern.

“And where else can I practice being a bellhop but at home?” Chauncey asked. “You have to practice something before being good at it.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Mr. Parnassus said.

“And this is the only place in the world where I don’t have to worry about priests trying to stick a cross on my face to cast my soul back to the pits of hell,” Lucy announced. He laughed as he shoved more bread in his mouth.

“Pesky priests, to be sure,” Mr. Parnassus said.

“Are you going to take our home away from us?”

The table fell quiet.

Linus blinked. He looked around for the source of the voice and was surprised to find it came from Sal. Sal, who was looking down at the table, hands curled into fists. His mouth was set into a thin line, and his shoulders were shaking.

Mr. Parnassus reached out and laid his hand on one of Sal’s fists. A long finger tapped the inside of Sal’s wrist. He said, “That isn’t Mr. Baker’s intention. I don’t think he ever wishes for something like that to happen. Not to anyone.”