After another hour of riding, they arrived at the terminal. Edith immediately spotted a sign flashing BOSTON on a silvery blue bus, but Fatty was quick to redirect her.
“Not the Blue Fox line — no, never!”
“Why ever not?” Edith asked.
“You don’t want to have to hang out in the lavatories all the time.” He wrinkled his nose.
Edith knew that cats tended to be more sensitive than spiders about such things and gave Fatty a look.
“Edith, it’s not only that!” he exclaimed. “It could be dangerous.”
“Oh, yes, flushed away! Not like an outhouse. Outhouses can be very peaceful places,” Edith said, recalling a favorite outhouse from her early childhood in Indiana. “So, what would you suggest, Fatty?”
“The Luxo Liner. Lovely reclining leather seats.”
“We don’t really require that,” Edith said.
But Fat Cat explained that just any old bus to Boston wouldn’t do. “We must be sure to get aboard a Luxo Liner. First class the whole way. All the amenities, and amenities means plenty of nooks and crannies. Worktables for busy executives, Internet connections, outlets for laptops, a bar.”
“We don’t drink!” Edith exclaimed.
Fatty sighed. “Honestly, Edith. Don’t you see — if there is a bar, there are shelves, cubbyholes for glasses and wine bottles.”
Edith’s six eyes shined brighter. “Now I’m getting it!”
“Yes! Nooks and crannies!” Fatty repeated.
Three hours later, Edith, her children, and Fatty were aboard the Luxo Liner heading east. It was all that Fatty had promised. Nooks and crannies galore. There were even movies!
There was the crack of a whip, then the sound of a Chinese gong. A rugged man wearing a safari hat appeared on the small screen. “Had a bit of a problem, ma’am?” A beautiful woman stepped forward.
“Trouble?” she asked.
“Someone put a spider where it isn’t supposed to be.” The camera came in for a close-up on the face of Kentucky Jones, famous arachnologist and treasure hunter.
Edith suspended herself from a reading light above the screen. “Jo Bell, Julep! I cannot believe you are watching this trash!” The two sisters were perched on the frizzy hair of a young woman whose eyes had been glued to the screen showing Kentucky Jones and the Spiders of Doom. “Even that stupid girl has fallen asleep.”
“Great!” Jo Bell said. “I’m going to crawl in her ear so I can hear better through the headphones.”
“It’s not boring, Mom,” Julep said. “The guy is such an idiot.”
Jo Bell popped back out. “You can’t believe what Kentucky Jones just said to his girlfriend!”
“What?” Julep asked.
“Get this — ‘I would swim through an ocean of venom for you, sweetheart.’ Ocean of venom — is that hysterical or what?”
Edith sighed. “Why don’t you watch something with more educational value? Four rows up, there’s a wonderful educational program about global warming.”
“Booorrring!” both girls said at once.
“Global warming is a real problem, girls. It could threaten all our lives, the very existence of our species.”
“Mom,” Jo Bell said with a note of exasperation in her voice. “You’re the one who’s always telling us that spiders have been around forever, four hundred million years, much longer than humans. What’s a little heat? I’m sure we’ll survive.”
Edith sighed. She wasn’t going to push it. It was a long bus ride. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt the children to watch an idiot actor gallivanting about. “Where’s Felix? Why isn’t he watching?”
“He’s in the lavatory.”
“That’s dangerous!” Edith replied.
“No,” Jo Bell said. “He’s not in the toilet. He’s just hanging out in a cabinet where they keep extra paper towels and stuff.”
“Oh, dear, I better go check. Fatty sends his love from baggage.”
Edith skibbled off to the lavatory. A woman was just pulling up her underpants as she arrived. Edith heard the roar of the toilet’s flush and trembled. She certainly hoped Felix was where the girls had said. As the woman washed her hands, Edith crept up her skirt hem and then floated a line in toward the handle of the cabinet.
“Felix, are you in there?”
“Yeah, Mom. Wait until you see what I’ve done!”
“Oh, dear!”
“No, it’s great. Come on in. You can squeeze through the crack.”
Edith entered the shadowy space. The cabinet was large and half the paper towels had been used, so there was plenty of space. And now, strung between the remaining rolls, a glistening fragile geometry quivered in the dim light.
“Felix! Felix!” Edith was stunned. “What have you done?” What have you become? she thought in anguish, an orb weaver?
“I figured it out, Mom! It’s amazing. I floated a line from that screw at the top and then another from the opposite side. Then I dropped a line from the center so it makes a kind of Y shape. But the hardest part was this crossband section in the middle. I used a combination of number one silk with number four. I know what you’re thinking — odd combination of silk.”
He has no idea what I am thinking! Edith made a small gasping noise, then plucked a thread with one of her legs to add vibrational emphasis to what she was about to say.
“It is not the oddness of the combination that startles me.” She paused. “It’s your oddness. You’re acting like Oliphant Uxbridge!”
At least five of Felix’s eight legs began to wobble as his mother spoke. “Mom.” There was such anguish in his voice that Edith immediately knew she had gone too far. “Mom, I am NOT Oliphant Uxbridge. Not by any stretch of the imagination.”
“I know that, dear.”
“Then why did you say it, Mom? It’s just like when we were back at the philharmonic and you said my only crime was —”
“But I said I misspoke.”
“Did you, Mom, or did you really believe it? You act like not hiding out really is a crime. You have to loosen up!”
“I am loose,” Edith protested. “That’s why our webs are nice, cozy tangled affairs. This … this … is all too rigid, too inflexible, just like Oliphant Uxbridge!”
But Felix wouldn’t back down. “You cannot judge spiders simply by their webs. It’s not fair!”
Something flinched deep in Edith’s spinnerets. There was truth to what her son was saying.
“I really miss the philharmonic,” he continued. “I am an artist. I thought I was going to be a musician.” He stopped. “I can’t explain it, but I have these … these feelings … impulses for art. I need an outlet for them. What we weave is very practical, but am I destined to weave only gauzy, funny-shaped webs?”
“They’re not funny-shaped!”
“All right, but they don’t have the spiraling mystery of an orb web, the geometry. The beauty.”
He was right, of course. The web he had woven was undeniably beautiful. However, to Edith it did not look natural. She shifted nervously on her rear four legs.
“Not everything has to be useful, Mom. I mean, it is useful — the capture spiral works for them. I can’t wait to see if I trap anything.”
“Hmmm” was Edith’s only response.
At that moment Jo Bell and Julep arrived. “Holy silk, look at that, will you!” Jo Bell exclaimed.
“I thought you two were watching the movie,” Edith said.
“It got boring,” Julep replied. “Wow, Felix, what have you woven?”
“Spectacular, isn’t it?” Felix was quivering with excitement now.
“It’s simply the most beautiful web I’ve ever seen! I can’t believe you did this all by yourself! Did you help him, Mom?” Julep turned to Edith.
“Certainly not! I am not an orb weaver. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“But neither is Felix!” Julep said.
“He’s an artist!” Jo Bell added.
Felix see
med to swell with pride.
“Look at those graceful curves, that soaring funnel — all the geometric shapes. It’s not simply flat like any old orb weaver web at all,” Jo Bell continued.
“Oh, I wish that old windbag Oliphant Uxbridge could just see this,” Jo Bell gushed. She turned to her mother. “Don’t you, Mom?”
Edith was not so sure. The web was truly a shimmering construction — like nothing she had ever seen. There were shapes that swooped like rolling ocean waves, some that folded in on themselves, and others that arced and soared. Edith had to admit that her son had brought together all of his talents to create a symphony in silk!
It frightened her. For if anyone saw this — any human — it would draw attention. And attention from the human world could be fatal. She wasn’t sure how to handle this. But the next words from Felix gave her an idea.
“I’d show that stuck-up old spider a thing or two about weaving,” Felix proclaimed.
Edith found this comment worrying. She detected a whiff of pride in her son. He was a bright lad. But pride led to showing off. And that was the risk of Felix’s artistic instincts. To express himself, he had to show himself. Art had too many occupational hazards.
“Children.” She spoke very soberly.
“Yeah, Mom?” they all said at once.
“I think it’s time for a webtime story.”
“Oh, yay!” both Jo Bell and Julep cried. “We haven’t had one in so long.”
But Felix remained silent.
“Where will we go, your web or here?” Felix asked.
“Here, of course. This is a lovely web. I think it might be very nice for storytelling. You can all perch on one of those … those … what do you call those threads that make up the circles, dear?” Edith asked, turning to Felix.
“Spirals,” he said quietly.
“So, what’s the story, Mom?” Julep asked.
“This story is a myth,” Edith replied.
“I love myths!” Julep bounced on her radial.
“Take it easy, Julep. I’m not sure how strong that is,” Felix warned.
Edith continued. “The character in this myth is a girl and her name is Arachne.”
“Arachne?” all three children asked at once.
“But that’s what we’re called. Spiders — arachnids,” Jo Bell said. “So it’s about a spider girl?”
“No, it’s about a human girl.”
“That can’t be!” Jo Bell said. “Why would a human have a spidery name?”
“Because she was turned into a spider,” Edith replied.
“SHE WHAT??!!” the three children of Edith all screamed at the same time.
Edith had her children’s undivided attention now. “Once upon a time, a very long time ago, Athena, the goddess of wisdom, heard about a young peasant girl named Arachne. Athena was known for her artistry and was a very fine weaver. Arachne also wove, and she boasted that she could make tapestries more beautiful than any god’s or goddess’s, even Athena’s. Now, the gods and goddesses did not like it when anyone was compared to them. They were very proud.”
“They had pride?” Julep asked.
“Yes, excessive pride,” Edith replied with a nod. “And that was fine for gods and goddesses, but if humans showed excessive pride, it led to nothing but trouble. Gods and goddesses were jealous types.”
Felix was still quiet but listening intently. “So, what happened?” he asked.
“Athena descended from her lofty perch on Mount Olympus,” Edith continued. “She went to visit Arachne while disguised as an old lady. She told Arachne her work was beautiful but asked why she would ever compare herself to a goddess. Wasn’t she happy to be the best weaver among the humans on earth?
“The girl, who was so prideful, answered her back, ‘Let the goddess come! We’ll have a contest and see who’s the best!’”
“She sassed her!” Julep said. “She sassed a goddess!”
“Indeed she did!” Edith nodded.
“So, what happened next?” Felix asked suspiciously.
“Well, Athena grew furious and threw off her disguise. Standing before Arachne in all her goddess glory, she shouted, ‘Prideful girl, you shall have your wish.’ And so they sat down in front of two looms. Athena’s tapestry was one of shimmering beauty and elegance. But so was Arachne’s. However, what Arachne had chosen to weave was disrespectful to both gods and mortals alike. She had woven a picture that made fun of the gods. It made them look silly, ordinary, and very mortal!”
“And then?” Felix asked.
“You see, Arachne, by being so proud, had insulted all of the gods. Athena rose up in a fury and tore the tapestry from the loom. She struck Arachne on the head with the shuttle she had used for weaving. In that instant, Arachne began to feel her head grow smaller, her fingers and legs shrink until they were spindly. Like this.” Edith raised one of her eight legs and waved it about for effect. “And Athena said to Arachne, ‘Stupid, vain girl, go and spin your thread and weave not tapestries but empty nets, and learn that the gods and goddesses must be worshipped properly by humans.”
“The End?” Julep asked.
“Yes.” Edith nodded and turned to look at Felix, who was very quiet.
Finally, he spoke. “May I make a comment on this story?”
“Certainly, Felix,” Edith said. There was a slight tremor of anxiety in her voice.
“First of all, I am not a human. I am not a girl. And I already am a spider. So, from my point of view —” He paused. “From our point of view, this is not such a bad story. She was turned into one of us, a spider.”
“True,” Edith agreed.
“And second,” Felix continued, “you have always told us that spiders have been around much longer than humans. We were here first — four hundred million years ago. So it isn’t an accurate story.”
“Myths are never accurate. We don’t read them for accuracy. We read them to learn.”
“I get it, Mom. I’ve learned.” The words seemed to clog deep inside Felix. He could hardly go on, but he did. “And I won’t brag, but please, just let me do my art. And … and … and …”
“And what, dear?”
“Remember, Mom, back when we were on our way to the Kontiki Antikies shop, I said I had something I wanted to bring up with you.”
“Uh … vaguely, yes.”
“You said, ‘Later, when we’re settled.’”
“So I did. Yes.”
“Well, I know we’re not exactly settled, but I would like to bring it up now.”
“Certainly.” Edith nodded.
The tiny hairs on Felix’s front legs began to quiver.
“It’s just that I feel I don’t belong.”
“Don’t belong?” The entire web seemed to hum with Edith’s alarm. “Whatever do you mean? We’re a family. You belong right here.”
“This is so hard to say, Mom. I feel that I belong with my family but not my species.”
“What’s he talking about?” Julep said.
“Ssshush!” Jo Bell said. At this moment, Jo Bell began to feel deeply sorry for her brother. Felix was different, but she loved him, and right now she felt as if he was about to turn their whole world upside down and inside out.
“Just because we’re called recluses shouldn’t mean we have to hide away!”
They were interrupted by a meow coming from the cabinet’s back panel.
“Fatty?” Edith asked.
“Baggage backs up to the lavatories,” Fatty said from a small air vent at the top of the cabinet. “Your creation is beautiful, Felix. Simply beautiful. And Felix is right. It truly is his name that condemns him.”
“What’s wrong with the name Felix?” Julep asked.
“No, dear child. It’s the name of your species. Brown recluse,” Fatty said softly. “Felix asks not to be judged by the poison in his fangs but by his character. As should each and every one of you.”
Felix was overwhelmed. Fatty summed it up so well, so perfectly.
All this time he had been wrestling with the dilemma. He could not deny who he was. “I want to live in the open,” Felix declared.
“Felix, that is just too dangerous!” Edith was shaking so hard she could barely speak. “We can live in the open when we get to the Place Where Time Has Stopped.”
“But that place might not exist. Mom, you’re the one who always tells us to seize the day, to make the most of our lives. It is very hard to seize the day if we’re always hiding. We never even see the daylight! And what good has hiding done us anyhow? I admit I was the reason we had to get out of the philharmonic, but no one had ever seen us at Kontiki Antikies.”
“But they heard about us after the philharmonic hall incident!”
“It’s no way to live, Mom!”
“Edith.” Fatty began to speak. “You know how I care for you. But Felix is right. You could live in hiding, but should it be at the expense of your children?”
Edith was very quiet.
“Mom?” Felix finally said in a very tiny voice. “Mom, are you mad?”
“No, no, never. I’m just getting used to the idea.”
“You mean — we can go out in the world?” Jo Bell asked. Every nano-hair on her eight legs trembled at the very thought.
Edith paused, looked at Felix, and then looked at each of her daughters. “Yes,” she said. “It’s just going to take me some time to get used to the truth that is before my half dozen eyes. Each one of my children has so … so much potential. And when we get to the Boston Public Library, you will find such inspiration!”
She turned to Felix. “Keep weaving, Felix, keep spinning. It is beautiful what you are making — it’s an astonishing creation.” She paused. “Perhaps you could make us a lovely circle for circle time, you know.”
“Oh, Mom, I’ll make you the best web. My pleasure!”
The next evening, Edith, her children, and Fat Cat disembarked at South Station in Boston.
“If I remember correctly, we can take the red line to Park Street and then the green line to Copley,” Edith said.
“Wow, Mom!” Her children were impressed. Usually it was Fat Cat who handled public transportation.