1

AINE PLAYS THE GUITAR

Aine loves to play at singing and dancing. They think it’s the most fun thing to do in the world, the Galaxy and the entire Universe!

When they sing and dance, they have this pleasant sensation; they feel, on moving their arms, legs and hips, that their brain is happy and filled with joy. You may not believe it, but there is a logical explanation for this. It has to do with the brain’s cells. It would seem there’s this strange connection between them. As a result of this connection, whenever the cells hear something they like, they start communicating with each other and infecting each other with their moods. Infecting in a positive sense, obviously, not like when you people catch the flu. Those infections, from what I’ve seen, are pretty annoying. Your temperature goes up, you feel unwell, you keep on sneezing, and your noses start producing snot like a tap’s been turned on. I’m just glad I don’t catch those strange illnesses of yours.

Aine sings and dances whenever they can. It’s their favourite game. If you’re clever, and I’m sure you are, you can imagine what it’s like. They like it so much it’s amazing to see how they set up one of their musical sessions. It’s incredibly interesting to observe how they choose the best place and decide on everything they need so the spectacle will go off smoothly. Putting on a performance, if you want to do it well, requires all sorts of preparations: a stage is necessary, instruments are essential, and the clothes, needless to say, have to be the right ones. That’s just for starters.

The place Aine likes to play in best is the living room. It’s on two levels, that’s to say two different heights; if you go to the upper part, it’s like being on a stage. There are times they can’t play in the living room – they’re not allowed, or there’s a visit, or their father gets home tired from work and is in no fit state for a performance. Then the bed in their bedroom, or their parents’ bedroom, also serves as a platform to put on their concerts. They like this option less because the mattresses are unstable and they can’t perform their steps properly. But at times like this Aine jumps up and down on the bed until they’re completely drained of energy!

The instruments they use are pretty cool, even though they’re made of plastic and don’t make a real sound, they’re only good for playing Rock Band on the Wii. That said, they’re pretty good. They have all these details, and the shapes are more or less the same. Santa brought them last Christmas: a guitar, a drum kit and a couple of mikes. Their favourite is the guitar. They reckon it’ll make them famous one day and they’ll go touring all over the world. They claim they’ll attend real guitar lessons one day and learn to compose songs and nice melodies.

Lyrics and tunes are the central foundation of an artist’s work, together with other elements as important as clothes, hair and make-up. A musician’s image is highly important. Aine almost always gets the outfits for their performances from their mother’s wardrobe. Today, for example, Aine looks very unusual: they’re wearing a dress with pants. They’ve worn it before. It’s this bright electric blue colour, covered in pretty red flowers. It only has one sleeve, which gives the outfit a sophisticated touch. It looks great on them. Well, almost. The trouser legs are too wide and long, but they solved that problem by folding them in the middle and tying them to the waist with a thick golden belt.

You may not think so, but the game of singing and dancing is pretty complicated and even has its risks. Sometimes adults complain about the noise, like the woman who lives upstairs. Things can get destroyed even if you don’t want them to. Today, for example, while we were playing, Aine broke a bar of lipstick. That landed them in a heap of trouble! I told them not to worry, nothing was wrong, but they’re going to be on the wrong end of a reprimand. Their mother’s always saying, “Aine, don’t borrow my things, cosmetics aren’t for playing.” But they never pay attention, though they try to control themselves. They make a superhuman effort. But there’s something bigger that makes them forget these words of warning. Once they set eyes on the vanity case in the bathroom, all they can think is how cool the make-up will look on their face.

Today was my fault, I admit it. First, Aine tried to use their own paints, these fake ones their aunt gave them not long ago. The colours were faded and barely made an impression on the skin of their face. They asked me how it looked, and I, who almost always tell the truth, replied not brilliant, they would do well to seek another solution. Aine values my judgement a great deal, that’s why I’m their best friend, so they ended up going to the bathroom… and you can imagine what came next. They put their hand in the vanity case and picked out this bright red bar of lipstick. They used it to paint a line right across their face. It looked great, especially when Aine closed their eyes and the line became complete. It was fantastic. But needless to say, when they pressed it against one of their cheeks, the lipstick broke in the middle. When that happened, we fell into a panic. We glanced at each other for a couple of seconds, unsure how to react. But in the end, since everything was set up and underway, we decided to carry on playing. There was no fixing it. So we put on some music and started dancing!

There’s a Starman waiting in the sky

He’d like to come and meet us

But he thinks he’d blow our minds…

“Aine! That’s enough! Turn down the volume! What do you want, the woman upstairs to come and complain?”

Aine’s father shouted suddenly, opening the bedroom door without warning. We were petrified! I hid behind the curtain. Aine, for their part, gave such a jump they banged their nose on the neck of the guitar.

“You gave me a real fright, father. Don’t you know you should knock before coming in?”

Aine’s father’s face went dark. I don’t think he found it funny that Aine should repeat one of the things they always come out with whenever they’re interrupted. I find that unfair. At home, Aine has to follow a bunch of rules: they can only watch telly in the afternoon, after they’ve done their homework; they’re not allowed to eat with their mouth open; they always have to brush their teeth before going to bed; they can’t interrupt the grown-ups while they’re talking or borrow their things without permission… Rules which, as far as I can see, are applicable only to young people. Like that business of knocking at the door. Adults never knock, they do whatever they like. You’ve no idea how many times I’ve had to run and hide! In this place, if your age is a single digit, it seems you don’t have a right to anything. Not even intimacy. And, of course, Aine’s only nine (almost ten, it’s their birthday soon).

“May I know what the hell you’re wearing?” asked their father, completely ignoring their complaint.

Aine stared at the floor and didn’t say anything. They were perfectly aware their father didn’t like such games. We’d already discussed it a bunch of times.

“Pfff, here we go again. Fran! Aine’s been rummaging through your things!” he shouted to his wife down the corridor. He then disappeared and shut himself in his room.

Aine gave me a sad look. When they get like that, I wish I could say something that would help, but I know nothing about the world of adults. The only person I know well is Aine, and even we have trouble understanding one another from time to time.

We fell silent, almost holding our breath. And waited. We were going to hear the soft footfalls of Fran, Aine’s mother’s slippers being dragged along the parquet floor of the corridor. First, she would rebuke them. I have the whole process under control. I’ve been observing these situations for months, and it’s always the same. Then, on seeing the bar of lipstick broken in the middle, she would get really annoyed. After her initial outburst, she would become a little sad. She would force Aine to get changed, tell them to go to the bathroom and wipe their face on one of those towels for removing make-up. Aine would then start crying. I can’t bear it when Aine cries. I hate watching the sadness overflow in this strange way that makes water come out of their eyes. I’m just glad the unhappiness doesn’t last long, they get over it, and their mother soon forgets as well. When it’s time for bed, it’s as if nothing had happened and they always give each other these broad smiles. They sometimes even hum one of Aine’s favourite songs as a duet, after reading a story. At times like this, I don’t want to interrupt and always disappear. Until Aine summons me again.

That day, however, we were in luck. More and more seconds ticked by on the clock, and Fran still didn’t appear. We were safe. I leaned over towards the tablet and observed the frozen image. The video with the song we’d been listening to was on pause. Aine had done this when their father appeared. We pressed the “play” button. The image moved, but we put it on mute so as not to be a nuisance. We had been lucky that Fran hadn’t come to destroy the game and it was better not to take any more risks. We started dancing again like this, slowly. Instead of singing, Aine just moved their lips, as if their voice didn’t have any volume. It wasn’t the same, but it would have to do.

Let the children lose it

Let the children use it

Let all the children boogie

Do you know what you want to be when you grow up? Aine’s cousin Xulián wants to be a firefighter; their friend Lúa, a teacher. All of that strikes me as boring, like being a postal worker, a butcher, a doctor, a nurse or driving a bus. What I mean is all of those things are fine, but I don’t think they would suit Aine.

When they’re older, Aine wants to be Ziggy Stardust. I think that’s a fantastic idea. So I’m going to do everything in my power to help them.

2

THE BIG CITY

So you don’t know who Ziggy Stardust is? Don’t worry. I’ll explain it to you. But, first of all, it’s important you realize everything began when Aine went on holiday with their parents.

Have you ever been on a plane? It’s unbelievable. Having waited an age in the airport, which apparently is fairly boring, people get in this enormous flying device, which is white, made of heavy metal, and has these two gigantic wings. It’s so big you wouldn’t think it could rise an inch off the ground. And yet, if you wait just a couple of minutes, you see how its wheels lift off the tarmac and soon it’s up in the air, flying over the world. Through its windows, houses become small, and cars and people are almost invisible. When the contraption gains height, they even disappear! It’s as if the whole world had stopped and only the passengers existed, flying all the way up there, above the clouds.

The first time Aine travelled by plane, as is natural, they were a little afraid. Everything inside the cabin was strange and unsettling. The flight attendants put on these fake smiles all the time. The captain’s voice produced this incomprehensible dirge through the loudspeakers, like when someone talks with their mouth full and you can’t understand a word. Just as the plane was entering the runway, one of the attendants stopped in the middle of the aisle, removed these strange odds and ends from an overhead locker and started demonstrating how the passengers should behave in case of emergency! Such as if the plane should catch fire, or make a nosedive, or if the pilot should have to perform a forced landing. Like any small person, Aine was unaware such things could happen. All they had imagined was how wonderful it would be to travel by plane for the first time. They had thought all that business of being in the air wouldn’t last long and would be a fantastic experience. But, on seeing the performance put on by that attendant, they were overcome by irrepressible fear. Their teeth started chattering. They made so much noise they were afraid the other passengers would hear that din and think they were a coward. That made them ashamed, so they tried to sink into their seat. They wanted a chamber to open up in the back of the seat where they could hide, because the truth is there aren’t many places you can run to on a plane. On top of that, as the device gained height, they felt this unpleasant pressure building up in their ears. Their lower lip started quivering uncontrollably, which only happens when they’re about to cry. Their father then asked them to look out of the window. He explained they were just going over their house. Couldn’t they see, down there, the streets and buildings of the city? Aine looked very carefully and managed to calm down, almost without realizing. The attendant then brought them a tray with a snack inside a box with a drawing of animals. They gulped it all down in a matter of seconds: a mini-hamburger, a yoghurt and a small pack of biscuits. Inside the box, there was also this stupid toy, which they ignored and promptly fell asleep.

A big city is something a nine-year-old finds difficult to understand. Aine didn’t particularly enjoy the experience of visiting one. They reached the conclusion that big cities are not made for small people. Everybody bustled about without paying attention where they were going. If Aine bumped into someone unintentionally, they would give them angry looks of the kind that lets you know you’re getting in the way. That was if they noticed Aine’s presence at all. The buses were all full of adults ten feet taller than them. The streets and buildings were dirty and old. The air stank of smoke, and the cars made a lot of noise. Even the hotel where they were staying was old-fashioned like their grandmother’s house. The room was ugly and small, and Aine had to sleep in a bed that wasn’t quite real. It was called an extra bed. If they moved about in the night, it would fold and gobble them up like a sandwich!

On the third or fourth morning of their trip, their parents let them lie in a little. The three of them were exhausted! Being a tourist can be very tiring. Aine tossed and turned in the sandwich-eating bed and covered their head with the sheet.

“Mmmm… I’m staying here today!” they announced. Their whole body was hurting.

You little humans have very short legs and get tired easily, it seems to me. Above all, when your parents make you walk for hours on end, as happened to Aine on this journey. During those days, they had seen a bunch of monuments, tried all kinds of weird food and visited markets selling fruit and antiques. They’d also been to lots of museums – dark, boring places full of paintings and old objects protected by signs that said “Do Not Touch” in multiple languages. The only one Aine had enjoyed was one with mummies. Real mummies! They had never seen such a thing! The mummies were ugly and wrinkled, and their faces were frightening. But it was the kind of fear that also gives you a certain amount of pleasure, like when you read vampire stories or watch ghost movies.

“Don’t talk nonsense! How do you think we’re going to leave you in the hotel!” said their mother, amused by this crazy idea of staying in bed. “Come on, up you get. We’re not going to walk so much today, I promise!”

Aine lowered the sheet to their nose and peeped out.

“Mother, how do you expect me to believe anything you say?!” they retorted, squinting their eyes. Their parents were always coming up with things that led to deception, such as when they announced Aine didn’t have to go to school the next day, and it turned out they had a dentist’s appointment or something like that.

Their father went over to the bed and pulled off the cover.

“Come on, Aine, don’t be a pain. What we’re going to do today is something your mother and I have really been looking forward to. If you behave, we’ll take you to the zoo in the afternoon, OK?”

That bit about the zoo certainly changed things, so Aine decided it was worth doing what they suggested. Besides, they didn’t want to have to stay with their grandmother again. Up until that point, their parents had always travelled alone. It had taken a lot of effort to convince them to let them go with them. Behaving in all the months leading up the trip had not been easy: they had had to eat greens without complaining; to restrain themselves in order not to get into a fight with Xosé Lois and the others during break when they made fun of them; to go to school with a happy expression even on days when they had P.E., the subject they hated most; and to wear the clothes they were told to, whether it was to go to school, for a walk, or just to stay at home. Home was the only place where they could put on whatever they liked! So you can imagine the sacrifice involved. They hadn’t done all of this in order then to chuck it all overboard. Besides, no doubt there would be penguins at the zoo. Aine loved penguins. Me too!

They held out their arms to stretch a little and jumped out from between the blankets. The feet of the bed creaked noisily, threatening to snap shut. Every night, they risked their life, sleeping on that thing!

3

THE EXHIBITION

That day, Aine went with their parents to see an exhibition. An exhibition is a display of thousands of inter-related objects. They are positioned strategically so people can pass in front of them and observe them. There are exhibitions of lots of different things: paintings, vintage cars, jewels, toy trains, books… anything you can imagine.

These objects can also be viewed in standard museums, you might think. That was the case with Aine, who wanted to go to the zoo or get on that cool Ferris wheel they had spotted at an amusement park through the window of a bus. When they got off at a stop in front of this enormous building and read the word “museum” on the façade, they fell into a real tantrum. Their parents tried to explain this place was different, it wasn’t what they thought, but anger prevented Aine listening to reason. To be fair, I have to say their parents hadn’t lied. Museums and exhibitions are not the same. One of the main differences is that, in museums, paintings and pieces of art, to give a couple of examples, spend years and years on the same shelf or in the same display case. Centuries, even! Workers take care of them, dusting them and moving them about from time to time. Whereas exhibitions don’t last forever. The objects are in a room for a limited time only: weeks or several months. Then people who specialize in antiques, dressed in white suits and latex gloves, gather everything up very carefully and take it somewhere else. The other end of the world, perhaps, China or Kathmandu! So it can be admired by a larger number of people.

The exhibition Aine’s parents wanted to see was about a musician, a very famous rock star they both loved. The poster at the entrance had an enormous photo of him with a red and blue stripe painted across his face. And yes, despite the fact they were in a museum, it turned out to be an unusual museum, a very modern place, unlike the ones they’d visited on other days, which were old and ancient. The interior was white and futuristic, like a spaceship. Inside, more and more images of that musician covered each and every one of the walls. Some adults stopped next to them and took photos in front of the photos. They then smiled happily and stood staring at their mobiles with mouths so wide open you could see their teeth. In this way, with everybody in a good mood, they waited in this lengthy queue you had to join to enter the exhibition. Aine, for sure, could not understand their parents. At home, they were always running about – because of school, shopping, work, the gym. And now here they were, showing all the patience in the world, chatting away as if time did not exist. From time to time, music could be heard in the distance, and they started dancing. They were definitely a bit crazy that day.

The queue shuffled along, and finally it was their turn. A pleasant woman asked for their tickets and exchanged them for these electronic devices with earphones Aine and their parents quickly inserted into their ears. They then went into a room full of multifarious objects: strange outfits, photos, books, old records and even musical instruments. There were also lots of TV screens which filled with images as they passed. A man appeared in them, playing the guitar and singing. But the most amazing thing was, every time they approached one of those things or passed next to a screen, as if by magic, sound began to come out of the earphones they’d been given at the entrance. Without touching any button on the device or anything like that, Aine could hear someone talking or the opening chords of a song.

Wherever they looked, all they could see was that man: in photos, videos, on the telly. There were clothes and belongings of his all over the place. This struck Aine as strange. In the other museums, apart from the mummies, they had been able to see Greek ruins, artefacts from Ancient Rome, old paintings from the Middle Ages… But, on this occasion, that singer was the star of the show. Their parents were deeply moved. They knew all the songs coming out of the earphones and studied the objects with large, glistening eyes full of admiration. Aine had never seen them like this and didn’t know what to think. They were almost as happy as when Aine got new toys or their favourite meal, or their favourite cartoon was on TV. They couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. This rock star was certainly puzzling. He wore surprising clothes, had crooked teeth and eyes of different shades: one blue, the other brown! Different-coloured eyes! They couldn’t believe it.

Aine had also noticed that the singer looked like a different person in each photo or video. But they also realized that, if they paid attention, they could see it was him, he had just changed appearance like a chameleon: sometimes he wore colourful suits; others, a clown’s outfit. Others, he had on these long, oriental tunics that reached to the floor, or leather trousers and jackets. His hair changed from one moment to the next: first it was long, then short, curly or dyed.

Aine’s parents stopped in front of all the photos and slowly read the little letters that appeared next to them. This made Aine fairly nervous. Until they came across a photo that really caught their attention: in the photo, the man was wearing a long, floral dress. Aine froze when they noticed. Wasn’t this a guy? Why was this strange artist suddenly wearing a woman’s clothes? They studied him very carefully while their parents carried on walking. They were humming along to the sound of the melody coming out of the earphones. Aine looked at the photo again. They examined the pattern on the dress, the expression on the singer’s face. He seemed fairly sure of himself, as if he didn’t realize he was wearing the wrong clothes. Aine was very confused. Was this possible? Were there men who could be women? They searched for their parents. They had paused in front of an extravagant outfit, but only their father seemed to be paying attention to the clothes. Fran had stopped singing and was staring at Aine, who immediately went red. They sometimes felt their mother could get inside their head, and this made them afraid. They ran up to them. Aine knew they wanted to ask them something, but not what it was. And so, since they couldn’t work out where to start, in the end they said nothing.

The next room in the exhibition was very dark. Only a few small lamps on the walls lit the contents of some glass cases. But as soon as they took a few steps, a new song started coming out of the earphones and everything was bathed in light. Enormous screens at the far end of the room went on, and they were trapped in a flurry of colours, as if they’d just entered a disco. The glare from the screens was so strong that, to begin with, Aine could only see bright, different-coloured sparks dancing in front of their pupils. They grabbed their father’s arm and let themselves be led along until they recovered their sight. In the end, once their eyes became accustomed, they saw all that light was coming from a video in which the same man as before was singing and playing the guitar. This time, he was accompanied by the members of a band. Their pulse started beating twenty thousand times an hour. How he danced! The way he moved! Besides, what was even more amazing was that his hair was now red. Red like Aine’s! They felt a strange shudder course through their body, similar to the sensation they only knew from waking up on Christmas Day or going to school for the first day of class: an intense emotion it was difficult to contain. The clothes the singer was wearing in the images, unlike what had happened with the dress earlier, struck them as very cool. They were there, displayed on a dummy: the most spectacular suit Aine could ever have imagined. The colours were fantastic, startling, wonderful. The light-hearted design consisted of tight trousers and a jacket, both cut from the same cloth, with red, blue and green drawings. What surprised them most was that the outfit didn’t respond to a particular style. It wasn’t like their mother’s dresses or their father’s suits. Aine couldn’t work out whether those clothes belonged to a man or a woman, but they thought they were great. In addition, the singer was wearing these supercool red patent-leather boots. As their whole body hummed with emotion, from their toes to the last strand of hair on their head, Aine decided at that very instant they wanted to have an outfit like that. A fantastic suit to wear on Sundays, to visit their grandmother or go for a walk.

“Look mother! He’s like me!” they said to their mother, tugging at the sleeve of her jacket.

Their father scowled and took the earphones out of his ears.

“What do you mean, Aine? What do you mean, he’s like you?”

His wife gave him a little kick on the leg. She did this surreptitiously, but Aine noticed. They immediately had the sensation they’d said something that had bothered their parents. This happened a lot. Sometimes they would say what they were thinking, and the adults around would grimace. Something grew tight inside their chest, and they had to suppress the wish to cry that climbed up their throat like an army of thousand-footed ants.

“He has the same hair as me,” they whispered, touching a lock of their hair. Aine had this beautiful red hair that reached their ears.

Their parents gazed at the dummy in silence. Aine waited a few seconds, holding their breath, but they didn’t say anything. Aine adjusted the earphones and concentrated on listening to the music to forget what had just happened.

They didn’t want to become sad, they were on holiday and holidays are meant to be fun, but they couldn’t help it. How difficult it was to talk to their parents! They never understood a thing! They closed their eyes and focused on the tune flooding their ears. The song playing at that moment was supercool. That helped them to calm down. In a few seconds, the sounds of the different instruments and the singer’s voice filled their head completely. The music stopped them thinking, thanks to this intense rhythm they found very pleasurable. They felt suddenly full of happiness and strength, as if they’d just been given an injection of energy. They let themselves be carried along and started tapping their feet in time to the music. They listened carefully. The lyrics were highly amusing: they talked about a man in space who just wanted to sing and dance.

That was it! There it was, thought Aine abruptly. How come they hadn’t realized? When they grew up, they would be just as amazing. That was the solution! When they were older, they would devote themselves to music. They would form their own band and play the guitar all the time. They would have a suit like that one, and nobody, not even their parents, would be able to say anything. Because they wouldn’t care anymore what others thought. Some day, in the future, Aine would be like Ziggy Stardust: a being who could be everything they wanted. Even a man who wore a skirt.

Text © Iria Misa

Translation © Jonathan Dunne