by Jared Ravens
"Sir!" Maxwell said, bursting through the door. Theo opened his eyes just enough to see the rotund man blocking his doorway. He wore a fine suit with yellow lining that distracted nicely from his body. Maxwell opened his thick red lips to say something but Theo held up a hand. Rising slowly, Theo secured the cloth belt of his robe.
"What the fuck is she saying now?"
"She's ranting again."
"She was fine an hour ago." This was the problem with the primaries, those born directly from Celia. They could be normal one moment then lose their marbles the next.
"She was pleasant. And then..."
Theo raced through the endless hallways of red wallpaper towards the commotion. When he burst into the lounge Delia was wailing, her robe dropped on the ground and her naked body exposed. She reached her hands to the sky in the position as if she was possessed. She took off, moving about the room while holding this pose as her maids raced to get things out of her way so she wouldn’t stumble on them. She darted directly for a round table in the center of the room as if it didn’t exist. Her waist bashed into the table, knocking it over sending a large vase of flower crashing to the ground.
Theo called to her and the turned, her head and hands still lifted towards the sky. She glared at him with a frightful look so unnatural that he wonders how he could ever have considered marrying this woman.
"Dear, what is the matter?"
She babbled, her lips moving as if someone was pulling at them. He moved towards her and spoke calmly. She slowed down her movements enough that he managed to get close to her. He gripped her arms and pulled them down with the help of a few of her maids. The amount of strength this took was gargantuan. She was still on the verge of hysterics. They covered her in a white linen and set her on a chair and waited for her to catch her breath. She heaved as her energy wained. Theo caressed her arms and watched her face fall into that of a normal woman. The distress in her face faded. Her features restored, he could conceive of her as a normal human being.
"You kept saying 'danger'," he said. "What's in danger this time?"
"She's very distressed,” she said, panting. “Something's coming."
"But what is?"
"She's very distressed."
"You already said that."
She looked up at him, her energy suddenly regained. Her body became ridged in the chair and she pulled back her arms from him.
"You don't believe me."
"I do believe you, but you need to be more explicit."
Her thin features drew back and pulled away from him and stood up.
"She says it's coming, I believe it's coming. It's the truth! She felt it and I felt it too. If it’s real, it's real!"
Theo continued to try and comfort her but it was too late. She saw through his cynicism. Celia felt a lot of things. Sometimes she was reacting rationally and sometimes she was upset over a spilled bucket of water. But this performance was unusually emotional for her, though, and now that his wife was set off she began to throw things.
First she threw a statue at Theo, narrowly missing his head, then she went after Maxwell with smaller object. She grabbing utensils by the handful and tossed them around the emptying room. Theo slammed the door behind and bolted it.
"She's got it up her ass tonight, doesn't she?" Theo exclaimed. In the other room Delia continued to wail. She was breaking down, crying that no one believed her.
"She'll be better soon and see how irrational she’s been," Maxwell said nervously as he lifted himself up.
"She used to be better than this. She used to have useful insights. Now she's just..." Theo stood up slowly, losing his train of thought. "Let's get a smoke."
They could still hear her from the balcony. She was crying, probably laying on the floor. "Poor thing," Theo said, feeling slightly better. "She doesn't know where she is right now, does she?”
Maxwell opened his mouth but it took a while for something useful to come to him. "I think it's just a phase."
Maxwell’s tone was so unconvincing that it depressed Theo. “I don't know how much more of this I can take. She used to be helpful. Now I have to support her. Support her, support this family..."
He lost his trail of thoughts in the smoke. He began to see things in the corners of his eyes. Maxwell pretend to take a smoke when it was offered. Sugar root upset his stomach and it tasted like dirt in his lungs. Besides, someone had to be sober in this home. Looking at his boss lean agains the railing he noted that Theo’s face had aged considerably. He carried youthfulness with him for so many years; now you could see what it would look like when he was old. In this light he looked ancient. Maxwell had to look away down to the city below them.
"You have the union,” Maxwell offered. “That's finally taken care of."
"Finally. After what it cost me."
“What do you mean?"
"I had to pay."
Maxwell's mouth dropped open. After all the planning, this was the first he had heard of this. It was assumed Theo had gotten everything he wanted.
"Paid? Them?"
"The two grooms."
"But..."
"I had to do it. They had me by the balls. It was last minute."
"What happened?"
"Neither fo them wanted Ashia."
"But she's so beautiful."
"She is until you talk to her for more than twenty minutes. They had years with her. And if you're not going to have sex with her, then it makes her even less pleasant. They wanted something in return. Maybe they were bluffing. But..." He shrugs. "That's why half the staff is gone tonight. I had to let them off. It’s just that tonight is the night I needed them."
Maxwell's head was swimming. He was caught thinking about his own job. "But you'll make it back."
"I'll make it back." From the other room there's another round of cries. He stopped to think if he needed to go back in. Eventually I will. She will become rational soon. "I'm closer to Genesee than ever before. I have meetings with Spaulding and Curson now. I just need one kick and I’m at the top."
"You can get it."
"I need it fast. The tower..."
He deliberately lost himself in another smoke. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He didn't want to tell Maxwell this. But he had to do it. He was just too mentally aware right now to say it.
Maxwell filled in the blanks for him. “Its mortgage.."
“Its enormous. That loan could take out all my businesses. But one kick…"
The tower was the achievement of a lifetime. He did it, something no one thought was possible. He had pulled every string to get it, a monument to him and his company. A monument they now lived in, taking up an entire floor. But then his life just kept going and things kept happening. Now it had become a weight, like everything else that was once an asset.
He felt himself falling down, as if he was floating down off the tower and into he street below. For a moment he thought it was real, and maybe all of his problems had been solved in one push. Then he heard the door slam and he opened his eyes.
One kick, one good kick.
"McKenna..." he called out as she passed by the balcony. She turned and headed straight for him. Maxwell became tense and tried to excuse himself but it was too late. She was at the balcony door, her face bright red.
"What's she doing?” She asked angrily. “What's happening?"
"Same as always," Theo replied.
"She's falling apart and you're out here smoking... I had to hear it from one of the helpers."
"Would you like me to alert you whenever the sky is falling? I thought it would be self evident."
McKenna glared Maxwell so witheringly that he felt like curling up into a ball.
"Why didn't come to me? Why am I the last to know about anything.”
"I... I went to Theo..."
She glared back at Theo. He was dense enough at this point not to care.
"She's better, now, do you hear? We can go talk to her."
"How k
ind of you to help her now."
Theo snapped his neck towards her, suddenly awake. He pointed the pipe at her.
"Do you know how long I've been listening to this? Do you know how long I've sacrificed? Longer than you've been alive. I could have had peace with a normal wife. I've aged decades trying to decode what horrible thing she says is flying my way."
"How sad for you," McKenna replied. "I'm sure you had no idea of knowing what you were in for."
"You'l learn what it’s like," Theo replied. "You'll learn what it's like to unite with someone and watch them turn into something else over time. You'll learn what it takes to support a family even when they don't respect you."
"Will I? Is that your present to me?"
"You have a date in three days. You'll start your lessen then."
Theo shoved the pipe back in his mouth and looked away. Maxwell saw the satisfied look on his face contrast with the horror on McKenna's.
"You didn't..."
"You'll like him. And if you don't, then you'll get to know what life is really like.”
"I can't believe..."
"You don't even want to know who it is?"
"I don't care, I just hope he likes going on dates alone."
She slammed the door to the balcony and Theo immediately opened it, yelling at her back as she stormed down the hall.
"You'll go and you’ll do your part to support this family!"
"Like you support mother?" she yelled back.
"You'll learn what it's like from this side, you brat!"
He screamed as she slammed the door shut. Looking back to the balcony he saw Maxwell, trying his best to hide his horror. Theo leaned against the railing and tapped his pipe against it to clean it out.
"That's kick number one, and two and three.” he says. "If that doesn't work out then push me off this balcony."
McKenna ran down the dark alleyways, getting lost several times. These parts of town all looked the same. She turned into a narrow street and saw the light of a window up ahead. The building was half boarded up, an old wood door leaning on its hinges at the entrance. She knocked on the door until a light turned on upstairs. The stairs behind the door creaked with heavy footsteps.
An old woman opened the door. Before the woman could open her mouth to berate her, McKenna ran up the stairs, past the landing, and up to the attic.
On the bed at the far end of the room a figure pulled itself up. As she approached, McKenna could just make out the curves of the girl in the slender light from the window.
"It's late," the girl said from the bed. Before she could say anything else McKenna is in bed with her, gripping her excitedly and giggling. They embraced and McKenna kissed her wildly, passionately. They caressed each others arms wordlessly.
"I didn't think you'd come so late," the girl said.
"I couldn't stand it."
"I'm glad you came."
"So am I." In her head McKenna heard her father yelling at her, and she kissed the girl again to make the noise stop.
"How was the party?"
"It was. It was as it was," McKenna shrugged.
"Yeah." She knew what that meant. She knew what that might mean for her.
"Don't think like that," McKenna said, reading the girl’s expression.
"I'm not."
"He's stressed out about things right now and I just can't be around him.
"I know,” the girl said quietly. “He'll get better."
Will he?
He couldn’t sell her off like he did with Alisa. She wasn’t going to marry someone just because he talked her into it. But he wasn’t exactly going to like who she had chosen. Any of the people she had chosen.
"I just need time. He'll give up on me. I just need to have patience."
"I have patience."
McKenna gripped the soft skin of her lover’s arms.
"I don't."
The Clerk
Felix had no special feelings about the day. He woke up, barely on time, and ran down the packed, narrow streets towards the courthouse, dodging all manner of animal and machine to get there. He arrived, three minutes early, just enough time to take his place at the front of the dim, wood paneled room and catch his breath before the magistrate, Dayne Whims, sauntered in. Dayne had sagging jowls and a depressive nature but was easy enough to get along with. As he sat down he turned and squinted at Felix and nodded in such a way that implied wasn’t sure who it was he was looking at. Felix was fine being anonymous.
It was to be an easy day. They hadn't been able to find a trustworthy witness to the crime in question, an assault and robbery of a middle aged woman that had left her with a nasty head wound and not much memory. Left with no other option they agreed to bring in a Primary to help divine whether the accused young man was the assailant. This was always a nerve wracking day for the defendant, who would watch an unstable and occasionally hallucinatory woman blither on until she either pointed her finger at him or let him go free.
It was boring for everyone else in the room, including Felix, as there was very little for him to record as the Primary woman hummed to herself, trying to connect herself to the Greater Understanding that surrounded them.
He passed the time sketching on the notepad. More than a few times he looked at the bailiff, a rotund and bloated ball of a man with a shallow chin and squinted eyes. He looked ready to roll over anyone if given a head of steam. He sketched the man, adding his own personal features to the man as he did so. He had never particularly wanted to be a bailiff but he had to say that at times it did look like fun. Robertson’s words now lit an interest in him. A job that entailed a legal way to rough up a person didn’t sound so bad.
He had taken a wrestling course when he was younger. He had been too short then, too, with a body a little too pudgy and arms too skinny to be effective. He was able to use this to his advantage, getting low and being difficult to grip. His main advantage, though, had been temper; he was able to build a rage up on cue and then direct it at the opponent in front of them. He would barrel into the them and leap directly for their legs, bringing them down on the dirt with a thump. He knew no other techniques, so if this knocking the breath out of them didn’t work then he had no defenses against a wrestler that recovered and flipped him while on the ground.
After he was downgraded to easier opponents he lost his interest and acquiesced to his parent’s desires for him to quit. He hadn’t lost the aggressive urge, though, and now he felt it creeping up again.
The Primary was woman in a quilted dress made from scraps of cloth of multiple colors. It was sewn together in a haphazard fashion that made her look as if she was trapped in a dirty, insane blanket. Her hair was frazzled and her face lined with heavy bags under eyes, as if she hadn’t slept.
The sparsely populated courtroom look at her as she stared skyward, occasionally crying or laughing for brief bits of time. The judge sighed and the lawyers made occasionally comments about whether she had said something useful. Felix was occupied with his drawing, making lines to form a tower, when the woman began to speak so loudly that he nearly fell out of his chair.
"You!" The boney woman yelled, pointing at the man. Her wild hair seemed to stick on its ends now. "You!"
The arms of mans chair creeped as he gripped them and pushed his body back. The prosecutor stood and yelled that this counted as a formal accusation. The judge asked the woman if she was fingering the defendant. Felix scrambled to write everything down. The woman refused to say anything other that repeat ‘you!’. She bent at the waist and put her face to her hands, crying.
"Is this man guilty? " The magistrate asked her again.
"Yes!" She cried, as if being stabbed The man’s family began to let out screams of desperation as guards gripped him. He resisted, claiming his innocence as his lawyer demanded a clarification.
The judge shook his head. The bailiff walked to the defendant’s table and gripped the man’s arm with a meaty hand. The man pulled back and punched the bailif
f squarely in the face. The bailiff grips his bloodied nose with one hand as his other moved to the man’s throat. The defendant, thinner but also considerably taller than the bailiff, gripped the bailiff’s face with one hand and his shoulder with another. There was chaos, the judge screaming and the prosecutor and lawyer both trying to pull the men away from each other. The Primary whaled into the air. The defendant used the leverage of his hand on the bailiffs shoulder to thrust his head into the bailiff. The head butt caused the bailiff to lose his grip on the defendant and they both tumbled back, the prosecutor and lawyer both falling to the ground.
On instinct, Felix hoped over his desk and tackled the defendant from behind. He was surprised but turned quickly. Felix had his legs but he began to kick Felix in the face. Still only knowing one technique, Felix released and stood back. As the man tried to scramble up, Felix ran at him again and gripped him at the waist, pushing the man so hard that he fell into the desk, his arch of his back crunching into the table top.
The man fell back again, gripping his back in pain. The bailiff had stood up and was looking at him as he rubbed the gash on his head.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The bailiff asked.
Felix felt a fury run through him. To avoid lashing out at anyone else he turned his body downward and thrust his fist down into the defendant’s stomach. Just as he pulled up from the coughing man he was pushed backward. He was flowing through air, propelled by the thick ball of a man, and thrust into the ball. He fell to the ground, coughing himself.
“Why’d you do that?” The bailiff asked angrily, his streaked with dried blood.
Felix was winded, his back aching. He couldn’t breath. The commotion of the room turned from the belligerent defendant on the ground to Felix’s wilted body in the corner. The bailiff was walking confidently back to the defendant before Felix could choke out an answer.
“He’s guilty…. anyways…”
The bailiff threw the defendant over his shoulder like a sack.
“Its not your job to decide that,” he said. “Its not your job to wrangle them. You could have hurt him!”
The man rumbled out the off with the defeated slung over his shoulder. The defendant’s head banged against the doorway on the way out, causing Felix to laugh through his considerable pain.