Chapter Twenty
Rowlf looked out the window and felt a grin inside of him. “Here comes the chaos.”
“They’re home?" Robin asked, looking up at the dog.
“That, or someone made an exact replica of the band’s bus and is now driving on our street," Rowlf said. “Let’s get this music out of Uncle Kermit’s sight, if we want it to surprise him.”
“Okay!" Robin quickly hopped from the dog’s lap to the floor.
Rowlf stood up and tried to lift the thin, worn sheet music from the piano, but his paws and arms were burning with pain, and his fingers were swollen thick. He only succeeded in knocking the music to the floor. “Oops.” There was no way he could pick it up now. “Uh- hey, Robin? Could you-“
Robin scooped up the papers. “Do they go in the bench?"
“Yup," Rowlf said, trying to assess his pain. “Do you remember how it opens?"
“I think so!" Robin opened the bench, put the music in, closed the bench, and hopped back onto it.
Rowlf sat beside him, and they examined the old, well-used and well-treasured music book that had been hiding behind the now-hidden sheet music.
The door opened, and the Muppets began to pour in.
Kermit let out a weary sort of sigh as he entered the boarding house. He heard a few stray piano notes slowly become the beginning of
Michael Finnegan, smiled faintly, and went to the piano. As he had expected to see, Robin was sitting on Rowlf’s lap, slowly, carefully picking out the notes, giving his uncle a bright, welcoming smile, but focusing on the song.
Kermit had
not expected to see Rowlf’s paws so swollen.
Robin finished the last notes of the first verse and looked up for- and received- Rowlf’s approving nod.
“Very nice, Robin," Kermit said.
“Thanks, Uncle Kermit!"
Rowlf looked at the older of the two frogs. “Rough day today, Kermit?"
Kermit shrugged it off. “As usual," he said. “Paws hurting? They look awfully swollen…”
“Well, that’s to be expected," Rowlf said easily. “Part of getting better.”
“But do they hurt?" Kermit pressed.
Thinking himself unnoticed, Gonzo winced and edged closer to the piano.
“Sure, it hurts, but it’s only been a couple days," Rowlf said. “This kinda thing takes a lot of time sometimes. It’s gonna hurt for a while.”
From across the room, Clifford glanced at the piano. The floppy-eared dog had swollen paws and was clearly in pain. Why would he want to listen? Besides, Kermit and Robin were there now.
Maybe I’ll just go pack, he thought as he stormed up the stairs.
Kermit gave his friend a sad, concerned look. He didn’t want to say this. He
did not want to say this. “Rowlf," he said softly, “How much piano have you played today?"
Busted, Rowlf thought.
Robin frowned up at the two adults.
“Less than usual," Rowlf said. He usually played almost all day. He hadn’t played when Robin was at school.
Kermit sighed and sat down next to Rowlf while Robin continued to frown up at them. “Rowlf…” He really,
really did not want to say this.
“Yeah Kermit," Rowlf sighed.
Kermit winced. Oh, how he
loathed to say this. “Rowlf," he said quietly, “You really… probably…
shouldn’t be- playing- piano… with broken wrists.”
Now he’d said it.
Rowlf stared at him.
His sunny-side up eyes were stinging with the venom of persistent determination that was feared by all dream-chasers and known by all whose dreams are deterred or crushed.
That was
why Kermit hadn’t wanted to say it.
The room was stiff, and quieter than it had been. The Muppets didn’t have to hear the conversation to see, to feel, to
know the look in Rowlf’s eyes.
Gonzo swallowed hard and turned away from the piano, looking at his feet. What had he done to his friend?
Rowlf, of course, was aware of far more than the venomous pain in his eyes. He also felt the burning pain in his paws that told him that Kermit was right, that told his heart to ache, because his flaming desire and
dream, a fundamental part of the very essence of his being, was, in his ‘best’ interests, off-limits.
Kermit squirmed uneasily. “I- …I’m not saying, you- have to stop
completely," he said quietly, “But- …Rowlf, it…” He winced and sighed. “At least take longer breaks?"
Rowlf was quiet for a long moment. “…Yeah," he whispered.
Kermit nodded quietly. “I-“
He really hated having had to say that.
“…I’m sorry, Rowlf," he whispered.
Rowlf nodded. “I know," he whispered.
Robin looked back and forth between them, quiet, confused, and concerned.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Clifford drummed his fingers on the card table.
Kermit tapped his flipper under the table.
Pepe shuffled and reshuffled the deck of cards on the table.
They lazily eyed the empty chair at the table.
“He’s sat out more hands than he’s played lately," Clifford snapped. “Can’t we just deal the next one without him?"
“You know how that irks him though, Clifford," Kermit said. “He only said to deal him out of
two hands.”
“Si, si," Pepe said as he shuffled again. “He should be back soon, hokay?"
“Right," Clifford said, setting his cheek on his fist. “What’s with all the phone calls he’s been gettin’, anyway? Girls?"
Pepe looked up from the deck of cards. “He wishes, hokay?"
“Family stuff, I guess," Kermit said as he ran his finger across the edge of the table.
Clifford glared at the shuffling cards across the table. “Listen, shrimp-“
“King prawn," Pepe nearly growled.
“Whatever.”
“Gonzo?"
“Pepe-“
“Si?"
Clifford glared at him. “If you’re fixing that deck…”
“Why whould I do such a t’ing, hokay?" Pepe asked, trying to look innocent.
“You would," Kermit mumbled. “There’s a reason we have Clifford deal.”
Clifford leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “At least I’m good for
somethin’," he muttered. So if he
did leave, the poker table would miss him. A little. Great. As soon as he found his suitcase…
“Fine," Pepe said, annoyed. He pushed the deck across the table to Clifford. “Jou shuffle away if jou want, hokay? If
jou can’t trust jour friend. I’ll go see if we can deal de rat out again!" He stood up and marched out of the room.
Clifford picked up the cards, sighed, and began to shuffle.
Kermit and Clifford did not say a word to each other. While the frog could clearly detect his friend’s bitter animosity, he could not begin to guess the reason for it.
Clifford wasn’t too willing to tell him.
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