Down the Rabbit Hole

“Now, I admit that for a time I was afraid I could no longer love my lovely Nimmie Amee without a heart. I was brokenhearted about it. And with no heart to guide me, to keep me from doing wrong, I knew I needed to be extra careful not to be cruel or unkind to anything. So in the end, well, it turned out I was a better man; a more caring man without a beating heart than I was when I had one.” He grinned. “You might say I had more heart when I didn’t have any.”

This was something Elise had never considered, so she did it now.

“You know,” he went on. “It isn’t the brain in your head or the heart in your chest that you make choices with. They aren’t what you feel and care and empathize with. You know it’s more than muscles and impulses. It’s something you control. It’s you choosing who to be; you deciding how to live your life.”

He gave her a long, steady . . . Martin-like stare. His golden-green eyes found what he was looking for inside her and gently let go. She understood what he was telling her.

“And that no heart nonsense?” he said, his tone more upbeat. “That came from a discussion Scarecrow and I had on the merits of brain versus heart—he having no more of either than I did . . . physically. I told him that if having one or the other made the difference between being smart and being able to love, that a heart would be my choice, because being smart doesn’t make you happy, and happiness is what makes life worth living.” He smiled. “He was young at the time and his straw was still fresh. He hadn’t had the time to learn, which is why he thought he was dim-witted and brainless, and yet in the end it turned out he was the wisest man in all of Oz all along.”

Elise glanced at a football balanced prominently on a rack with other sporting equipment . . . and the Charlie Brown inside her pined wistfully.

She looked away. “And the lion was actually brave, right? He just didn’t realize that courage is acting in spite of his fears. And he did that a lot.” She sighed, easily empathizing with the lion’s lack of self-confidence. “So, none of you knew that you already were what you wanted to be?”

“We didn’t believe in ourselves.”

“And Dorothy needed all three of you—heart, wisdom and courage—to find her way home; to find happiness.”

He nodded, pleased with her acumen. “To find herself.”

He directed her to the gap between two more rows of costumes. Cowboy hats and chaps; fringed shirts, Indian leathers and brightly colored prairie skirts began to fade away to gray . . .

A fog drifted apart to reveal a diorama of the afternoon she and Molly crossed paths with Liz Gurney at the mall.

Knowing now the ramifications of her original reaction to the scene, Elise was inclined to take a more objective view of it—taking the time to notice that great effort had been taken to ensure that the CD cover and the charity poster looked appealing and professional, that Liz was dressed in a serious businesslike skirt and jacket, that her expression was both friendly and hopeful . . . and that her own expression was, at best, snotty and condescending.

And yes, though completely oblivious to him the first time, she now saw a dark-haired boy sitting across the way—head down, shoulders hunched and clearly in pain of the worse kind.

“Oh no,” Elise said, miserable in a way Charlie Brown couldn’t imagine. There was a sickening tightness in her chest. “That poor kid. And look at my face—could I look more soured or hateful? Why do I do things like that? I mean, I do things and hear myself say things and I don’t even know why . . . not specifically. I’m kind and generous and loving—most of the time. I am. And I never would have hurt that little boy like that. Ever. I’m just so—”

“Lacking in self-awareness?”

“You said that before, as Zorro. You said I was pretty astute for someone with so little self-awareness. But I am aware. I know when I do or say things that aren’t very nice. And afterward, I’m almost always sorry. I can even see that it took more time and thought and energy to be harsh and insulting than it would have if I’d simply been polite and respectful and moved on—I don’t know why I bothered. I don’t enjoy it. It’s like an unsatisfying habit.” She tipped her head to the diorama. “I didn’t even try to understand what Liz was doing that afternoon.”

He smiled at her kindly. “Acknowledging your inferior behavior is a beginning, but for true insight you must also know why you behave as you do. Remember, the way you treat people affects them, but it isn’t necessarily about them. It is, however, always about you.”