Little hand on the 8, big hand on the 10
Malone was crying. Maman-da was sitting on the bed next to him, but he couldn’t tell her why he was sad.
He couldn’t tell her that Gouti had gone to sleep, maybe forever.
That his heart didn’t beat anymore, that his mouth didn’t speak anymore. That he was now just like any other cuddly toy.
He had to stop crying, though. He had to stop sniffling, pick up the handkerchief, and dry his tears. He had to because if he didn’t, Maman-da would never leave. She’d stay there, hugging him, telling him that she loved him, that he was her darling, her sweetheart, her big boy. She’d stay there until he calmed down.
And he didn’t want her to do that.
He wanted to be alone with Gouti.
Tonight, since his toy couldn’t speak to him, it would be his turn to tell a story. His story. Through his wet eyes, he saw the little rocket sitting on the caramel planet. The biggest of them all.
It was the day of Jupiter. The day of strength. The day of courage.
Maman-da didn’t leave. She stayed there, a warm presence next to him. He could feel her breathe, almost as if she had fallen asleep. But no: from time to time, she would caress him or say “shhhh” almost without moving her lips. Sometimes she kissed his neck and told him that it was late, that he should fly off to the land of dreams.
Malone understood. He realized that, tonight, Maman-da would stay in his bedroom until he fell asleep.
So he, too, started talking without moving his lips. He started talking in his head. Maybe Gouti could hear him, when he spoke in his head.
He knew the story of Jupiter by heart.
It was the most important one: Maman had told him that many times. This was the one that—when the right moment came—he absolutely had to remember.
When the moment came to fly away. Not to the land of dreams, as Maman-da wanted.
When the moment came to fly away to the forest of ogres.
And when that moment came, Malone would have to be braver than he’d ever been in his life. There was only one way to escape the monsters, not to be taken into their lair. Afterwards, it would be too late: you can’t jump out of a plane. To escape them, there was only one way, Maman had told him, one place where they would never be able to find him.
And Maman had made him promise to think about it every night in his head. To repeat the words, to recite them to Gouti, but never to repeat them to anyone else.
EVERY NIGHT.
To think about that hiding place, again and again, always.
The most secret hiding place of all. And yet the simplest in the world.