Part Five: I am Not Mad

Jonas thought that he could go live in an ice cave like a hibernating bear after eating two plates of ham and potatoes, with rolls on the side. He didn’t think an ice cave would be pleasant; that’s only how he felt. When the giant clock across the room bonged 1:00, making Jonas choke on his water, Jones, James, and John stood as if they all shared two legs. They bowed toward Madame and strode through the door, one after another. Jonas watched them go, but he didn’t stop eating.
     “You might grow two inches after eating all that energy,” Madame said, sipping from a glass goblet. She had a tiny red smudge of jam on her lip.
     “At least three,” Jonas said, swallowing first. He looked at the smudge, but she only smirked and cut open another roll. “Could we talk about the family emergency now?”
     Madame let the roll rest between her teeth and narrowed her eyes. “Not yet,” she said, setting the bread back on the silver bread plate.
     “Could you give me an estimate of time that will-“
     “Talk like a normal boy, boy,” Madame said, pushing her chair back. “You can’t be older than ten. I want you to be an impressionable child, silenced by food and interesting sights. Can you do this?”
     Jonas blinked at her, and she beckoned him to follow. He slipped through the heavy door before it could close, afraid to be left in the room alone. The three men could come back, and do things eerily as one while he could only watch. He thought this as an excuse, to convince himself that interesting sights and food hadn’t distracted him from his goal. Madame was striding down the hall with great strides, and he had to run to catch her.
     “You’ve eaten, and you’ve proven your intelligence,” Madame bellowed. “Follow me, follow me.” Jonas looked behind him before he obeyed, wondering if the dolls would be better than a woman who was proving her insanity every moment. He wished fervently to be outside his gate, waiting. This didn’t feel like waiting, not with all the hustle and curtains and rooms they were passing through. Madame’s shoes clicked down stairs, and Jonas descended into the dark. The dolls and the three men seemed far away, and when his fingers brushed fur in his haste to find Madame, he gasped. “Follow, follow, boy,” Madame whispered from far ahead. Jonas jerked his hand away from the cold hair and ran. A door rattled open, and light streamed into the cold hall. He couldn’t stop himself from looking back, and he saw pacing yellow eyes before the door rattled shut again. “Don’t be so slow,” Madame hissed, halfway across the bright room. Jonas peered around, disgruntled.
     “You’ve eaten, and you haven’t necessarily proven your intelligence, Madame,” Jonas said in a clear voice. Madame stopped, but didn’t turn back. Jonas put his hand over his mouth and watched her shoulders shake.
     “I am not mad, Jonas Barry,” she said, still staring forward. “I am only different.”