by Lee Magnus
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She flushed with embarrassment.
“It’s ok. I’m learning to deal with it. Back to a happier topic,” he said with a forced smile. “Mom said Donald’s mom went crazy after he left, died, whatever. She thought he left for another woman – maybe even had another family.”
“Shoot. I’d be mad too if I were her and that’s what I believed happened,” Sarah said.
“You live in this neighborhood?” he asked as they turned into Whispering Woods.
“Yeah, almost six years.”
“I live in Tall Pines just up the street.”
“No kidding! We should hang out more,” she said. She lowered her head then looked up at him while tucking her hair behind her ear.
He watched, as if in slow motion, as her hand gracefully caressed a supple cheek as it fell from her ear to rest on her forearm.
“Yes, we should,” Trey said with a grin too big to conceal.
“Would you like to walk me to school tomorrow?” she asked with a flutter of the eyes.
“Yeah! Tomorrow. Sure.” he stuttered, attempting to contain his eagerness.
She smiled and said, “See you tomorrow morning.” Then she turned gracefully on one foot and walked away. She waved as she shot him a smile over her shoulder.
He stood in the middle of the road with a goofy grin until the horn of a car jarred him from the trance. He trotted out of the road, waving apologetically, and then walked the quarter mile to his house not remembering taking one step.
“Hi Mom!” Trey announced as he entered the small kitchen that hadn’t been updated in a decade.
“Hey Sweet T, how was school?”
Trey’s mom was tucked inside a slender navy pant suit. She styled her tight cropped hair with the front brushed to the side. It occasionally drifted over her right eye.
“Good,” Trey replied to her greeting. “The front door doesn’t close well.”
“I know. Mr. Taylor, the landlord, said he’d be by later to take a look at it and the hot water heater. How’d you do on your,” she gave him a sideways look, “wait a minute, why are you smiling?”
“What, who me?”
“Yes, you,” she replied bluntly.
“Can’t I be happy on occasion for no reason at all?”
“No. There’s always a reason. Is it a girl?” she asked eagerly.
“No, Mom. No,” he replied unconvincingly. I just had a good day today….but nothing really special happened. I just enjoyed this nice day.”
“Ok,” she said looking at him questionably. “But let’s just note that you’re acting very strange,” she said with large eyes and raised eyebrows. “I made you a sandwich, it’s on the counter.”
“Thanks,” he replied happily.
“I leave in fifteen minutes for the museum. Aunt Kathy will stop by after soccer practice to bring back a dish she borrowed last week. She’ll stay with you for an hour or so.”
“Mom, I'm thirteen, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I know, it’s not for you. Your cousin James is in college now, she doesn’t have a job and really needs to feel useful, so I told her she could make sure you were okay tonight while I'm gone.”
“Arggg! Ok. Fine. Is she bringing food?”
“Yes. She said she made a lasagna in the pan she’s bringing back.”
He smiled and said, “Make me cheesy French bread toast and I'll forgive you.”
“It’s already in the oven,” she smirked.
“You’re the best! Thanks, and good luck with the exhibition.”
“Thank you, Trey, I’ve been working on it for a long time. It’s really exciting my work is finally getting notoriety.“
“I’m proud of you mom! I can’t wait for the opening.”
“Me too,” she said.
“One more thing about Aunt Kathy, why do we call her aunt anyway? Isn’t she really a cousin?”
“I suppose you’re right but let’s just keep it like it is okay?”
“Sure.”
“Mom?” Trey said reluctantly.
She looked at him curiously in response.
He paused not sure if he wanted to say what he intended to say.
“What is it. Trey? You can talk to me,” she said reassuringly.
He looked away and said, “It’s nothing.”
“Go on, Sweet T. Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s just that…there’s this boy at school. He’s not very nice to me.”
“Are you getting bullied? Tell me who it is, and I’ll go have a word with his mama!” She said aggressively.
“No, Mom. No. It’s not like that. He’s just not nice and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not scared he’ll hurt me or anything, but I do want it to stop. I’m just not sure what to do.”
“Oh, baby,’ she said warmly. “I think you should talk to him. Try to find out why he’s targeting you. Often there is something beneath the surface and if you can get to that you’ll have an opportunity to not only solve you’re bully problem but also help him tremendously.”
“Talk to him? I don’t think I can do that.”
“Trey,” she said powerfully, “It won’t be easy, but I know you can do hard things. You understand?”
“I think so,” he said actually unsure if she had helped at all but happy she had so much faith in his ability to approach Donald to try to figure out why he is so mean.
She hugged him, a little longer than usual, and then walked off down the hall.
She returned to the kitchen several minutes later and just before she left him at the house alone, she said seriously looking up with dark brown eyes, “Remember Trey, you can do hard things.” She nodded then walked out without knowing she might not ever see her only son again.
Trey sat at his meager desk attempting to work on homework for the day but kept thinking of his walk with Sarah. He relived every moment, wincing at the regrettable ones. He wondered if she would have held his hand had he reached for it, if he messed it up somehow with the awkward moment. A knock on the door broke his contemplation.
He walked to the door to find Marcus, “Hi Marcus.”
“You ready for practice?” Marcus said, dressed in a tucked-in white long sleeve button up collared shirt and bow tie. He was also holding a black rectangular case.
“Yeah, let me grab my boots and I’ll be right out.” Trey took a second look at Marcus’ attire then asked, “Why are you so fancy?”
Marcus sighed, “We have a band rehearsal for the play this weekend. Mrs. Lofton wants it to be just like it will be during the live show, dress and all.”
“Oh. Okay. You have a solo in it, right? Are you nervous?”
“You know me, I don’t get nervous about anything.”
“I’ll have to agree with you there. I don’t recall an instance since I’ve known you…or maybe you’re just good at faking it,” Trey joked and jabbed him lightly in the stomach.
“Hey, Kid. I’ll fake you upside the head with this case if you don’t watch it,” he replied playfully.
Walking down the busy sidewalk Marcus said as he swung the violin case side to side, “So, tell me. How did it go with Sarah?” He smiled a cheesy grin then said quickly, “Did ya kiss her?”
“No,” he retorted defensively. “I just walked her to her neighborhood. Did you know she lives in Whispering Woods?”
“Really? You didn’t kiss her? Tell me you at least got to first base.”
“First base is kissing you big dummy,” Trey said with a chuckle.
“Oh. I thought that was…well…never mind. What a stupid metaphor. Baseball’s a silly game anyway. A bunch of guys just sit around waiting on another guy to hit a ball. What’s the fun in that?”
“Exactly. That’s what I used to tell Dad. He said baseball was the greatest sport ever invented.”
“Yeah. Okay,” Marcus said leery of continuing a conversation about Trey’s dad. “So, you said Whispering Woods? Travis Rashi lives the
re. I go to his house every other week to play chess. I’ve never seen her there, but I don’t suppose I would since we never go outside.”
“Good thing you have Travis. I can’t go ten minutes with you. You really have that game figured out.”
“We have a competition coming up in New York City. I’m super excited about it.”
“I know you’ll do well. No one plays chess like you. I wish I could have that skill on the pitch. Your strategy would be invaluable.”
“Thanks, Kid,” Marcus smiled.
“Have fun at band,” said Trey as Marcus turned toward the school and raised a single hand. He rapidly shot his index finger twice in the air in a so long salute.
Trey was left to continue his thoughts about Sarah on his way to the soccer complex. He noticed three scrubby men who looked to be in their fifties staring at him intently from across the street. He thought it strange and had an uneasy feeling but just ducked his head and picked up his pace. They made no move to follow.
Trey arrived at the soccer fields a few minutes ahead of time, shook off the odd feeling he carried from his walk, then joined his teammates. Coach Rafiq addressed the boys and then the team broke onto the pitch under grey clouds of which replaced the previously blue sky. Trey noticed a tall, dark-haired woman leaning against a silver sports car taking what seemed to be too much interest in a middle school soccer practice – taking too much interest in him. He tried not to think she was looking specifically at him or that she may be related somehow to the other three guys. He stopped and sent her an unsteady glance. He looked away for a moment and then back to see if she was still looking but found her driving away.
“Strange,” he said to himself and didn’t pay it another thought for the rest of practice.
After practice, drying sweat chilled his body as he walked home in the cool, dusky evening. No sign of the threesome from earlier. He entered the dark, empty house – immediately started a shower with a fluctuating temperature. Afterward, frustrated by the unsatisfying shower and alone in his room, he began thinking of the strange woman again when a sudden knock at the door startled him. Did someone just enter the house? He stood up quickly, alarmed.
“Trey? Are you here?” came a shrill voice from the kitchen.
Trey relaxed as he entered the kitchen. “Hi, Aunt Kathy.”
Kathy was a thin woman in her fifties with bushy, chemical-colored blonde hair and pale skin. She carried a large orange purse decorated in a white flower print.
“Hey Trey,” Kathy said as she planted a big kiss on his right cheek. “I’m so glad we get to spend some time together. I brought a lasagna.”
“It smells yummy,” said Trey as oregano and melted cheese caught his attention.
“It’s nearly six, let’s grab some plates and have dinner, shall we?” she asked.
Trey set the table, then grabbed a spatula for the feast.
They sat and Trey continued, “So, how’s James? Is he getting settled into to college life?”
“You know James, he just sort of goes with the flow. We were up there last week helping with a few things. I’m not sure that boy will ever learn to do his own laundry.”
“It must be nice having him so close.”
Kathy added a small serving to her plate. Trey took no notice that she didn’t touch it afterward.
“Yes, he wanted to go to a school on the west coast. I would have lost my mind,” she said as she rested her crossed arms on the table. “Tell me Trey,” she said hastily changing the subject, “what do you know about our family history?”
He took a moment to twirl stretchy cheese around his fork.
“Uh, well, Grandpa lived in Louisiana for thirty years or so before moving to Boston. Mom never told me why. I suppose I could have asked. Anyway, his family came over from Europe in the 1700’s. That’s about all I know. Dad told me a few stories about Grandpa’s adventures before Dad, you know…” he trailed off chopping his noodles into the melted cheese and thick sauce.
Kathy sighed and her smile faded as she addressed Trey’s emotional statement, “Your father is a good man. Very smart and devoted to you and your mom. Sometimes people get distracted and marriages sort of don’t make any more sense. You know what I mean?”
Trey became angry and lashed out, “No. I don’t know what you mean. He left us. He hasn’t been devoted at all.”
Kathy thought he might cry or leave or both. “I can see why you feel that way,” she said softly. “You’ll understand your father and his actions in time.”
“Whatever,” he replied dismissively. He set his fork in the plate and looked away, trying to hold back powerful emotions.
Kathy exhaled audibly before continuing. “Uncle Patrick, I mean your Grandfather, was a historian. He had a passion for discovering the truth. He studied ancient civilizations, specifically those of Africa. He travelled all over the world looking up clues to fill in the details of broken history. In fact, he discovered a whole race of people related to the ancient Egyptians that lived thousands of years ago. I know you didn’t know him well, but he knew you.”
“He knew me? Really? How?”
“Mostly through your dad.”
“My dad told Grandpa about me?” Trey asked in disbelief.
She smiled, “Yeah. They talked all the time, nearly every day.”
Trey rolled his eyes, looked away and commented, “I can’t imagine the crap Dad told him. I’m sure none of it is actually me.”
“I’m sure there’s some accuracy in his stories.”
“I’m sure,” Trey said sarcastically. “I don’t understand why I didn’t get to meet him. Why wouldn’t he come see me?”
“I don’t know, Trey. Maybe you’ll find the answer soon.”
“What happened to him? Mom never told me. How’d he die?”
“Did your mom say he died?”
“Actually, no. No, she didn’t. I think I might have just assumed. I don’t remember. I didn’t know him so maybe I just shrugged it off. That was around the same time Dad left.”
“I know it was a hard time for you. I’m sorry. Your father is my cousin, but that doesn’t mean I understand his actions.” She looked at him with immense empathy, nearly tearing up at the thought of what the poor boy has gone through. She gathered herself, wiped away a tear and continued. “Anyway, your grandfather was in an incident in China about four years ago. The officials said he and a colleague were attacked one evening but no one could find either of them afterward. We had people searching for nearly a year. Nothing. We all assume they were killed.”
“Killed! Why would anyone want to kill Grandpa?”
“Your grandpa dealt in many important historical items. We think someone attacked them for something they had.”
“Like what?”
“Something like this.” She pulled a round metal object from her purse, pushed her plate aside, then displayed it to Trey. It had a hole the size and about the same shape of a plum seed in the center. “He asked me to give it to you when the time was right.”
“What are those markings?” he said taking interest.
“Hieroglyphs,” she said – happy to see his lightened expression.
“Really? This is an actual artifact from ancient Egypt?”
“I believe so,” she said.
He moved his plate so he could get a closer look.
“It looks like it was made yesterday. There’s not a mark on it at all. Was it cleaned or restored?”
“No. This is how he found it.”
“Amazing. It’s not tarnished or anything.”
She watched his curious eyes scour the item. “He discovered it in a shallow room adjacent to an unmarked grave in the Democratic Republic of Congo. The story goes that an ancient magical being made this for a very bad king. He said there was once a stone in the center thought to grant great powers to the one who joined it to the disk. He never did find the stone. It was told that after the bad king was defeated, the benevolent queen removed the stone,
then sent each part separate ways to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. Additionally, Uncle Patrick learned that each piece carried a spell that bound the piece to a human guardian, which was to prevent anyone from removing it unwillingly. It can only be removed by granting it to another, or by the death of the guardian, otherwise, they will be cursed.”
“Death? That must be how Grandpa got it. At the grave.”
“I believe so,” said Kathy.
“What kind of curse? Will you turn into a zombie?” he said jokingly.
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me,” she replied seriously.
“Wow. There’s no way any of that’s true but cool to think about. Shouldn’t this be in a museum?”
“Probably. Uncle Patrick thought it was too important to give up. He also said to keep it from your mom because the museum would be the first place she’d take it. So, you must keep it safe and secret.”
“Have you carried that in your purse since Grandpa gave it to you?”
“I have. It’s not very big and I… I didn’t want to be cursed.” She released an unsettling chortle.
“So, you’re giving me the disk so that you don’t have to carry it around any longer?”
“Yes. Well, no. I’m just doing what Uncle Patrick told me to do.” Her eyes shifted and she fidgeted with the metallic disk.
“Aunt Kathy, are you okay?” Trey asked nervously.
“Oh. Yeah. I’m good,” she said as if she was woken from a dream. She paused a moment, took a deep breath, placed the disk in his right hand holding hers on top and said in a projected monotone voice, “I Patricia Clarise Monihand grant Olerand’s Disk to Wallace Patrick Roberts the Third.”
She removed her hand from the disk, then took a quick step back out of her chair as if she expected it to explode.
An image of a long-faced man with a trim beard and mustache briefly appeared in Trey’s mind. A chill overcame him.
“Whoa! That was weird.” Trey dropped the disk onto the table.
“What was weird?” asked Kathy.
“When you let go, an image of a creepy man appeared in my mind. Did that happen to you when Grandpa gave it to you?”