Monologues IX

IX. Being the Pedestal

This life is not what I imagined when I had the idea to cultivate my own detective. Not that I pictured glamour and fame: even then I was far too old and tired to be drawn to such ideas, and when one has worked in as many fields as I have one becomes marginally more cynical and rooted in fact than it is possible to be whilst still aspiring to that lifestyle.

However, I certainly never imagined that I would become the live-in maid of an overgrown child. To be sure, he was a child at the time, but he was startlingly rational and intelligent, and I saw only the mature qualities in him. Now he is an adult, I see only the basest and most childlike aspects of his personality: an irony that was uniquely irritating when I first became aware of it. Perhaps I was simply frustrated at the thought that the detective whose raw intellect outstrips most of his colleagues combined could be the same man - man! - who refused to eat his vegetables or go to bed on time.

Back when this behaviour could be legitimately excused, I did not try to contain it. It is possible that my wariness of placing boundaries on such an extraordinary mind led me to be foolish. He would have had no difficulty in discovering for himself that what he wanted was not always what was good for him, and giving him orders only worsened his blind stubbornness. Better to let him learn how to behave on his own accord, I reasoned. It is possible that this decision is what allowed the seed of the troubles to take root. Alternatively (and I find this more plausible) he would have turned out the same way regardless of whether I interfered, and I flatter myself to think that my efforts to control him would have had any effect whatsoever.

I do not regret my choices- not the choice to let him govern his own life, nor the choice to take on the venture in the beginning. The fact remains that I am unimportant, my legacy, contacts and skills forming the vessel for his incredible ability. Any complaints I may have regarding the situation deserve to be thoroughly disregarded. I have had my share of wealth and power, and the trouble with these things is that they only become abundant and useful in one's old age, when one no longer desires them. Using my legacy to change the world- but behind the scenes, quietly from the comfort of a hotel room- I have no doubt that this is preferable to retirement. Indeed, there are many who would envy my lifestyle, from the dangers associated with it right down to the endless preparation of strawberry sundaes. Certainly I would not exchange this for a seemingly more dignified post. There is dignity to be found in being the pedestal, as well as the statue.

The nature of our relationship is an unusual one. He does not thank me for the material goods and the status I have given him, and I do not thank him for saving me from the horrors of elderly idleness. Nevertheless I have grown fond of the boy, and I am not ashamed of my treatment of him. I am hardly the first doting carer to spoil his child with sweets.