Chapter Twenty
Robin held tight to his uncle's hand as they trudged along the old dirt road. Kermit had been getting quieter and quieter since they had left town. By the time they could see the marsh grasses, he was silent.
They turned off the old dirt road and stopped, looking into the grasses. Kermit took a deep, slow breath.
"Uncle Kermit?" Robin whispered.
"Hm?" Kermit looked at him.
"Are you gonna cry again?"
Kermit sighed. "I don't know," he said as he knelt down. "I think... I think I might."
Robin hugged him. "It'll be okay, Uncle Kermit," he said.
Kermit gave him a squeeze. "Thanks, Robin," he said. He stood up and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said quietly. "Here goes nothing..."
They marched into the marsh grasses.
"HI-HO, EVERYONE!" Kermit called out.
"UNCLE KERMIT!"
They swarmed out of nowhere and everywhere. There were so many of them. They were so happy and carefree. Their eyes... There was so much here that hadn't even been heard of there...
Kermit felt a warm liquid in his eyes, pouring down his cheeks, as he slid down to his knees. He scooped young frogs up by the armful, hugged them tight, and released them to scoop up the next group. Each young frog sat back from their hug and stared at their uncle, confused, concerned, and slightly damp from his tears.
The older frogs gathered, watching, worrying.
Robin tugged at his uncle's good arm. "It's okay, Uncle Kermit," he whispered.
A wooden stick tapped across the ground with a pair of flippers. Tap, step, step. Tap, step, step. Tap, step, step.
The older frogs parted, making a path.
Tap, step, step. Tap, step, step. Tap, step, step.
The younger frogs backed off, making a walkway to their uncle.
Tap, step, step. Tap, step, step. Tap, step, step.
Kermit released the last group of young frogs and looked up, his cheeks wet.
Tap, step, step, stop.
Robin took a step back.
The frog knelt down and looked into Kermit's eyes.
They quietly looked at each other for a moment.
"Son," the older frog whispered simply.
Kermit slightly shook his head. "I've done something terrible, Dad," he whispered. "And I can't forgive myself for it."
James the Frog nodded slightly. "It's a terrible time," he whispered. He put his hand on Kermit's shoulder. "Are you sure you need
your forgiveness?"
Kermit shook his head. "But I don't know where else to go," he said. "There's no one to go to."
His father absorbed this, and slowly nodded. "Why'd you do it?" he whispered.
Kermit looked at his hands and gulped. "I was scared," he whispered. "I didn't know- ...I was scared for my friends."
His father rubbed his shoulder. "That's what war is, son," he whispered. "That's what war does."
Kermit looked up, his lip starting to quiver again. "Why do we do it?" he whispered.
His father frowned at him. "You didn't have a choice, son," he whispered. "Remember that."
Kermit nodded slightly. He hugged his father and tucked his face into the old frog's shoulder.
His father hugged him tight. "My son," he whispered.
They knelt together there for what seemed to be a long moment.
The older frogs slowly herded the younger frogs away, looking over their shoulders. They were good at teaching privacy, they were just too concerned to be good role models. In that respect, they were probably the best role models the younger frogs could have asked for.
Jimmy scooped Robin up in his arms as he walked away, and hugged him close. He strayed from the group, which wasn't easy to do. "Robin?" he whispered huskily. "Is that... Is that the kind of 'bad mood' Uncle Kermit has been in?"
Robin stiffened. "He's getting a lot better, Dad!" he said quietly.
Jimmy frowned as he walked away and hugged his son against his chest.
After a while, James the Frog helped pull his son up to his flippers. "Come on," he said quietly. "Your mom's making her fly-shoe pie."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kermit sat on his log and quietly plucked at his banjo. He wasn't paying much attention to the notes, or how they sounded. His mind was somewhere else entirely.
He was scarcely cognizant of the light plop-plop of someone leapfrogging over lily pads, closer and closer.
The light plop-plop ended with a single soft thunk, and he looked to see who was now sitting next to him.
She wrapped her arms around her knees. "Hey Mit," she whispered.
"Hey Mags," he whispered.
She eyed him with a sympathetic laziness, or a lazy sympathy, that he wondered if anyone but her could master. "Little absent minded tonight?" she asked.
"How'd you guess?" he said.
"Well you've been playing the exact same note for about five minutes straight now," she said lamely.
He looked at the banjo. "Oh."
Maggie sighed and looked at the pond.
Kermit looked at her. "Hey," he said quietly.
Maggie looked at him. "Hey," she said quietly. She watched him for a moment. "What happened today," she finally said, "...That's been... since you got home?"
He looked at his banjo. "It was worse at first," he said quietly. "I..." He stopped, and slowly lifted his head to look at her.
She watched him. "The show wasn't the real reason you didn't come at first, was it?" she said quietly.
He hesitated. "It was a nice excuse," he said softly.
She looked down and lightly shook her head. "You could've told me that," she said quietly.
He turned his head. "Told you?" he said. "How? Maggie, how could I say that I was scared to face my own home? My family?"
She bit her lip. "Is it everyone?" she whispered. "Does everyone make you cry?"
He gulped and looked down. "It… it's just kids," he said.
She looked at him, scooted closer, and put her hand on his back. She was quiet for a very long time. "...Kids?"
He winced. "...Have you heard about the Child's Corps?" he whispered.
She instantly stiffened and straightened, staring in strained disbelief. "...Please don't tell me you were there," she whispered swiftly.
He tightened his grip on his banjo. If frogs had teeth, his would have been clenched. "They're not just in Baghdad," he nearly spat. "Forget what the news people say or don't say, the Child's Corps is
not just in Baghdad!" He pushed his banjo into the water.
She stared at him, her jaw slack. She found her voice. "Hey." She plucked the banjo out of the pond and wiped the water off as best she could. Then she held it for him to see. "If
anyone is going to throw
this banjo into
this pond," she said, "It's me." And she did so.
He scrunched his face up and stretched his good arm out. "Gimme that..."
She chuckled as she pulled the banjo out again and handed it back to him.
He tenderly smoothed the water off the banjo. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "...Push
you into the pond," and he gave her a one-armed shove into the water.
She laughed as she splashed down into the pond. After a moment, she resurfaced, her head poking out right beside his flippers.
He eyed her suspiciously, reading her mind in the darkness. "Maggie..."
In a splash, she snatched and pulled.
"Watch the SLING!" He splashed into the pond.
She laughed.
He pushed a wave of water over to her. "Shame on you!" he teased as he grabbed his floating banjo and lazily dragged it towards the shore. "Taking advantage of a temporarily one-armed frog..."
"The temporary part makes it okay, right?" she grinned.
He pushed his banjo safely onto dry land. "You're about to find out!" He pushed off towards her and chased her through the water.
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