A Time of Anarchy- Mayan's Story

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A Time of Anarchy- Mayan's Story Page 22

by Roberta Kagan


  But Cricket… He intrigued her, he warmed her cold and aching heart, but most of all, her love for him scared her. In the past, she’d always kept a piece of her heart locked away where it could not be broken. But, although he was far from perfect, Cricket was prying that lock open a little more each day.

  After dinner, May asked Cricket to take her to the coffeehouse on the corner to listen to music. He agreed. Although the sun had set and it was well into the evening, the streets were still filled with people. Music drifted from the open doors, and the smell of pot and incense wafted in the air.

  On the stage, a young man sat on a stool with a long silver attachment that held a harmonica at his mouth. His brown hair was long and curly. He played an acoustic guitar. The songs were simple, but meaningful. In their simplicity, they connected with the audience on a deep level. As she scanned the room, May saw tears on the faces of the enraptured listeners. Most of the music was original; some were songs of unrequited love and heartbreak, but he also sang songs depicting the political climate of anger and dissention concerning the Vietnam war.

  After they returned to the apartment, Cricket took May’s hands in his and looked into her eyes. “Baby, I want to talk to you, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Are you mad at me for this afternoon? For the thing about your job?”

  “No, Cricket, I’m not mad. It’s just that I feel like you think I have no value.”

  “I think you have all the value in the world. May, you mean everything to me. Your love is more precious than money or jewels, or anything.”

  “Do you really feel that way?”

  “Yes, more than you know. And I want to get this right. I don’t want to screw it up. I mean this thing with us, you know? I’ve messed up so many things in my life. I just don’t want to lose you, I don’t want to lose what we have,” he said.

  “Yeah, me too.” May looked away. She felt tears of emotion well at the back of her eyes. It was so difficult to admit how much she needed Cricket, not only to him, but to herself.

  “But listen, if you want to work, then work. Your money is your own. Do what you want to do with it. I’ll find a way to support us, because I need to do that.”

  “But Cricket…”

  “It’s all I know. I’ve given in a lot to your liberated ideas, but please, May at least give me this much. I have to feel like a man,” he said. “I grew up believing that if you have a woman, it’s your job as a man to protect and take care of her.”

  “And I understand that, Cricket. And you do all of that, but you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do anymore. Like don’t talk to his person or that person. You can’t decide who my friends are or how I spend my money. I am not a child. That stuff has got to stop. I want you to realize that I’m smart, and I can make good decisions on my own. Do you understand?”

  “No, I don’t. And if you’re talking about that guy you met on the highway, well, I have to direct you when I think it’s for your own good, Baby. I want to be sure that you do what’s best for you and you don’t put yourself in danger.”

  “And you don’t trust me to make those choices?”

  “I do, I do trust you. And I know that you are smart. Hell, I live with you; I can see how smart you are. It’s just that I love you so much that I don’t want to let anything happen to you. I’m always worried, every minute of every day, that somehow, someway, this beautiful thing we have will be taken away from me. Don’t you understand? Oh, May, I’ve seen so much shit in my life. If I could only put you in a plastic bubble where I knew that all the ugliness in the world could never touch you, or take you away from me…”

  She saw the pain and fear in his face.

  “I know, Cricket… I know.” Her heart ached for him. And for herself.

  Chapter 61

  The more time May spent with Malachi, the better she liked him. His wisdom and generosity reflected in everything he did. It seemed to her that he’d read every book on the shelves in his store. But he claimed that he had not. Instead, he said that even if he lived for a thousand years, he would never have read all of the books he hoped to read in his lifetime.

  Most of her days at work were spent talking to customers or reading. Sometimes she and Malachi would close the shop and go to a nearby vegan restaurant, where they ate whole wheat veggie pizza and salad for lunch. Occasionally, Keith would join them, but quite often he was late for work. Malachi gave him the option of staying later into the night in order to make up the hours. It was a friendly, easy atmosphere. In many ways, May felt that she and Malachi were like kindred spirits. There was no need for constant conversation; quite often in the hours they spent at the bookstore together they communicated wordlessly.

  One afternoon while the sun began to set, Malachi and May sat quietly reading. She had come to trust him like an older brother. They had been lost in their books for several hours when she leaned forward, laying her book on the table, and turned to Malachi.

  “We’ve become friends,” she said. “I need someone to talk to.”

  “Go on. I’m here for you, Lil.”

  “Well, you know Cricket and I have been fighting lately. And sometimes I see a lot of his brother in him.”

  “How so?”

  “He wants to run my life. I have to do what he says, or he gets all bent out of shape.”

  “For instance?” Malachi asked his voice calm.

  “He doesn’t want me to work; he can’t stand it when I walk around alone…especially at night.”

  Malachi rubbed the stubble that had begun to grown on his chin and thought for a moment. “He worries. And he wants to do what he thinks is best for you.”

  May felt a pang of fear as she remembered being raped. “Yes, I know. It’s dangerous out there, and sometimes I have to fight like the devil to keep from isolating myself in the apartment. But I’m young, Malachi, I want to live. I want to be somebody someday. Although I don’t know who I want to be or what I want to do. Sometimes I’m so confused; I feel like I am a lost lamb.”

  He nodded then got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Yes. That’s part of being young…the confusion, I mean.”

  “Is it? Does everyone feel this way?”

  “No, not everyone, but most. I know I did. And even as old as I am now…I still feel it sometimes.”

  “I feel like my life is passing by and I’m wasting it.”

  “Oh dear, yes…now how old are you?” He smiled winking. “Let me guess…somewhere around sixteen?”

  She turned away, angry; was he were making fun of her?

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Malachi continued, his tone clearly indicating that he was not mocking May in any way. “But what you fail to realize is that your life has yet to begin. Everything you are living through now will become an experience in your life that is yours alone. Something that belongs to you, that nobody can take away. Nothing in life is ever wasted time. It is all part of the molding that will grow up to be May the woman. Do you understand?”

  “No.”

  “Well, how do you think I became a writer? Before I could write I had to live, I had to experience living. And even though I didn’t know the reason at the time, it was so that I would have something to write about. Something of substance, something worthy of sharing with the world. And while I was busy living, I often agonized about wasting my life. What was my destiny? Who was I to become? Try as I might, I could not find a goal, was not sure where I was going, or what my purpose was for being here on this earth,” he said and his eyes twinkled like stars in the warmth of the autumn sun that shone through the picture window. “And then it happened. Quite suddenly, really….my first book came to me. I wrote it in a month. After I was done, I rewrote it again. From that time on, I knew what I was meant to do.”

  She studied his eyes. “I don’t think I could ever write. I am too simple. Big words don’t come naturally to me. And I doubt I could ever tell a story the way other writers do.”
<
br />   “Ahh…but simplicity is the key. Because simplicity is the most direct form of communication. It’s not about big words it’s about connecting with your reader. Sharing a piece, a very precious piece, of yourself with your audience.”

  She was silent for a moment, thinking of the folk musicians and how simple their music was, yet how effectively their message came across.

  Malachi did not speak for several minutes. He sipped his coffee, allowing her to absorb all he’d said.

  “Why did your parents name you May? Were you born in May?”

  “They didn’t name me May. It’s a nick name. When I was just a kid the other kids teased me and called me Mayan because my ancestors were Mayans. The name stuck. Then as I got older they started shortening it to May. But real name is Lilith. That’s the name my parents gave me. Hardly anyone knows it. I hate it. But my mom loved lilies. You know the ones with the red centers?”

  He nodded. “Rubrum lilies, I think they are called. By the way, have you ever heard the legend of Lilith?”

  “No.”

  “Ahhh…it’s an interesting story! Would you like to hear it?”

  “Yes…”

  “All right, I’ll tell you. Lilith was Adam’s first wife.”

  “You mean Adam from the Bible?”

  “Yes, from the Old Testament.”

  “I thought Eve was his wife.”

  “Yes, she was, but there is a legend that says that Adam had a wife before Eve. And her name was Lilith. Unlike Eve, Lilith was not made from Adam’s rib; she was made from the earth, just the same as Adam was. You see, that made her his equal. Many called her a demon because she refused to bow down to any man, not even to her husband Adam. And that was because she knew herself to be the equal of men. So, she went off and left Adam, taking the Archangel Samuel as her lover.”

  “Wow, this is crazy. Cricket’s real name is Sam. What an interesting story,” May said.

  “What will you take from this story, May?”

  “Take?”

  “Yes, what have you learned?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Everything in life is a lesson. I believe that your name is May because you are meant to be an equal to men. Never allow anyone to force you to see yourself as an inferior. Who knows, the way that you love books, perhaps later in your life you might want to be a writer? And maybe not. It is all a mystery…a package waiting to be unwrapped. Just remember that the world is an open door for you. You can become whatever you choose, if you believe in yourself. That’s why I told you the story of your namesake.”

  “Why did you stop writing?”

  “I didn’t stop; the stories stopped coming to me. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had anything to say. And then, well, I’ve found my own true love.”

  “Oh, you never told me about her?”

  “She isn’t a woman, not really, she’s a drug. Heroin. Yes, heroin has replaced my need for women, and all of the trouble they bring. It guides me into a magical dream land, where all is well.”

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll overdose?”

  “I know, or at least I believe, that what you love best is what will eventually kill you. It’s just the way of the world.”

  “I don’t understand, Malachi.”

  “Someday you will, May. Someday.” He smiled and poured himself another cup of coffee. “Now, enough about me. Back to your questions. What is it that you think you want to do with your life? Remember, nothing is set in stone. You can choose a path today, then change it tomorrow if it doesn’t seem right. You know, that’s why God put erasers on pencils.”

  She laughed.

  “I had this friend but she died. We were going to go to school to be hairdressers. I was going to beauty school, mostly because of Jill, but also because I thought I didn’t have the brains to continue in real school. And I’ve missed so much already. In fact, I’d have to make up the half year since I ran away if I went back to high school. So, I was just going to drop out, and maybe eventually I’ll take the GED. Beauty school is only nine months long, and that’s about all I can handle right now. ”

  “I won’t tell you not to do that. You have to follow the path you see before you. But remember these words we’ve shared here today; remember them later in life when you just might decide to change your path.”

  “You really think I could be someone like you, Malachi?”

  “Oh, May, don’t look at me like an idol. I hardly deserve your admiration. But I know you could be anything you want to be, May. You are like Lilith…an equal to any man.” He winked at her. “And by the way, do you know what my name means? Malachi?”

  “No.”

  “It means ‘messenger of God.’”

  Chapter 62

  When May got home from work she found a large vase filled with yellow daisies. Beside the vase she found a note in Cricket’s handwriting. It read: “Take a shower and make yourself comfortable.”

  She giggled. What was he up to?

  After her shower, she found Cricket waiting with a bottle of red wine, a square of cheese and a loaf of French bread. He had set the table and put the flowers in the center. Candlelight filled the room.

  “Maybe I should have gotten dressed,” she said as she looked at the oatmeal-colored bathrobe she wore.

  “Nope. You look beautiful just the way you are. Come, sit; I have news.”

  She sat across from him, and he tore off a hunk of bread and put it into her plate. Then, after he poured her a glass of wine, he took her hand in his. “I got a job at the hospital. They called this morning and said that there was an opening. I went right in and they hired me.” He smiled at her and kissed her hand. “Now I can give you more nice things.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Her eyes were soft.

  “But…” His smile was so big that she had to laugh. “That is not all…”

  “What?”

  “I have another surprise for you .” He took a tiny box from his pocket and got down on one knee in front of her. Cricket looked so young, and almost boyish, like a child presenting his mother with a gift he’d made in school. As she looked into his tender eyes, May could see his heart. She felt his love. Where was her safety net? Her emotions were so strong. May couldn’t not remain detached, safe….unattainable. She gently stroked his hair.

  “Marry me.” His voice was hoarse. “Make me the happiest man in the world.” He opened the box to reveal a small diamond ring.

  “Cricket. Oh Cricket. I don’t know…”

  “You don’t love me?”

  “I do. But, what if I want to go back to school? I mean you don’t even like me working.”

  “You won’t need to work. I will give you everything. I’ll work double shifts if I have to, to make sure you never want for anything again.”

  Tears filled her eyes. He loved her. And as much as she was capable of loving anyone, she loved him too.

  “Cricket, I don’t want to give up my job. If you agree to just loosen the reins, I would love to be your wife.”

  “How about this; you don’t have to quit until we have a kid. And then, if you really want to, you can go back to the bookstore once the kid starts school. Would that be okay?”

  Cricket was the only family she’d ever really had. His eyes were fixed on her face as he waited for her answer.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

  His face broke into a smile. He got up, lifting her into his arms until her feet were off the ground.

  “I love you May. I love you so much.” They kissed, and their tears blended together until it would be impossible to separate them.

  Chapter 63

  The following day, May planned to make a nice dinner. She had been working so much that it seemed as if she were ignoring Cricket. Today was her day off.

  Early in the morning she’d walked over to the food shop as soon as Cricket left for work. When she arrived back at the apartment, she began boiling noodles for a recipe she’d found for Lasagna. If she
had not heard the news on the radio, May would never have known that Cricket had been arrested. It had happened earlier that afternoon. From what the radio said, he’d been apprehended while at work at the hospital.

  The police were holding him as a suspect in the Route 66 murders. Shaking, May turned the television on to find out more information. Perhaps the TV would give her some indication of where Cricket was being held, so that she could go to him. The composite sketch that was being displayed all over the news looked a great deal like Cricket. May shuddered. If he were capable of such horrific crimes, she’d never seen it in his nature.

  No matter, regardless of what he did, she would stand by him, even if he was guilty. She had to. He was all she had in the world. And the only man who she ever felt she would trust.

  The television was airing the story on every channel. It had gone national. Cricket had been picked out of a lineup of possible suspects by a girl who had survived an attack. Perhaps May could act as an alibi. She found it hard to believe that Cricket could rape and murder anyone. This girl had to be mistaken. She had to be.

  Before she left for the police station, May telephoned Malachi. He picked up on the first ring.

  “Malachi’s books,” he said.

  “Malachi, it’s May.”

  “Yes, May how are you?”

  “I’m not doing well at all. Cricket has been arrested for murder. He’s been taken into custody in the station downtown. I am going to him. I don’t know if I will be at work in the morning. If they will allow me to, I will stay with him.”

  “Murder? Cricket? You mean Sam, your boyfriend?”

  “Yes, I guess he looks a lot like the Route 66 Killer. What I understand is that there were composite drawings that had been released all over town in search of the killer. I guess one of his victims escaped and worked with an artist to come up with a sketch. Cricket was arrested today while he was at work, and picked out of a line-up by that same girl.”

 

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