Ceremonies

by T E. D Klein

  Idly he glanced down at Bwada, who was curled beside his chair, preoccupied with licking one fat grey forepaw, toes spread and gleaming nails extended. In the sudden silence she paused a moment and looked up, then turned her attention back to the paw.

  'You'd think she was just a sweet-tempered old lady,' said Deborah, 'but it's all play-acting. I saw the way she tore open Joram's hand.'

  "Twas nothing,' Sarr said quickly, noticing Carol's look of uneasiness. 'She meant no harm, nor Brother Joram either. A misunderstanding, that's all it was. A clash of spirits.' Still, the city was momentarily forgotten, and the deep-rooted old affection he'd been feeling – almost a reflex now, whenever he thought of the cat – was pierced by the memory of that bellow of pain, the small grey shadow fleeing toward the woods, his own stammered apologies and the other man's furious, accusing glare as he yanked back his hand and watched the upturned palm fill quietly with blood.

  The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?

  How right Jeremiah had been! How eternally mysterious the world was, and all the beings in it…

  He realized, with a start, that Carol was asking him something about the city and that his head had begun to throb uncomfortably. The drink was wearing off.

  'There's not much more to tell,' he said, 'not that much I actually remember. I recall a fight outside a barroom, with one man spitting teeth, and some children throwing dice against a playground wall, but what sticks out more is the line of police cars I saw parked along one lonely street with the lights out and the motors running, and the men in their uniforms sitting together inside, talking and laughing as if they were waiting for something. After I was past them I stopped to look back, and I saw one of them come out of a building and another going in. And farther up the block a boy about my own age, sitting on his stoop, made an angry face at me-1 guess he supposed I was one of the police – and asked me if I'd gone and had myself a piece. That's just the way he put it. He pointed to the building I'd passed and said there was a fourteen-year-old girl in there, living in the basement. Her mother'd run off to Puerto Rico, and this afternoon they'd put her father in jail, and now the girl was all alone and the police were taking turns with her.'

  He fell silent for a moment, surprised by the vividness of his own memory and wondering what impression it had made on Carol. Somewhere inside him, where his thoughts were darkest, he felt the first unwelcome stirrings of a reawakened lust, but fought them down.

  Carol had stopped eating and was frowning in his direction. 'I can't believe a thing like that could happen around Christmastime. It's just too sick! Where were all the decent people hiding?'

  'They must have been inside,' he said. 'I only saw the ones left out in the cold. And everyone was crazy, and no one seemed to care. Everyone was talking to himself, or singing like a drunk, or making odd gestures in the air, or shouting his lungs out at things I couldn't see. I remember a huge black man, big as a bear, who stumbled past me carrying on a conversation with himself in two different voices. And then behind him came this skinny old white man, the only one I saw up there, tagging after him like someone in a clowns' parade, laughing and pointing and making the madman sign, as if to tell the world, See, this man is crazy!' Sarr twirled his finger beside his head. 'I think the second man was as far gone as the first.

  'And everything was ugly, and everything was crazy and corrupt. I kept telling myself that the whole city wasn't like this, couldn't be like this, but it's still the only part I really remember. I hadn't eaten all day, nothing but a little bitty candy bar, and I was high – dizzy, almost – by the time I reached the river at the top of the island. There was another stretch of woods up there, and a field for sports. It was as far north as I could go, so I turned around and started walking back. I could never do a thing like that today – all those miles on an empty belly, without a thought of sleep – but I was younger, then, and inclined to extremes.'

  He looked past the others, past the sink and the curtains and the window screens, into the remembered darkness.

  'The night I'd picked was very long, the longest of the year, and I began to wonder if I'd ever see another morning. Whenever I came to a cloud of steam I'd walk right through the center, hoping it would warm me up a little, but by this time my teeth were chattering so hard I thought they'd break like china, and the wind seemed to go right through my coat and gloves. I felt like I'd been walking forever past those eyes looking out at me from windows and doorways and alleys, those sad dark faces saying things to no one in particular.

  'Finally, though, the sky began to brighten some, and when I was two or three miles to the south I realized that the streetlights had gone off. Things somehow looked a little better then, and for the first time I wondered if maybe I'd been too hard on everyone, too quick to judge.' Out of the corner of his eye he saw Deborah give an almost imperceptible nod. 'I told myself that if the people I'd been among seemed godless, 'twas only because they'd never been taught the truth, and that just because a few of them acted crazy, it didn't mean they all were.

  'And just then, as if to prove it, the steam parted and I saw a really distinguished-looking coffee-colored man walking toward me up the block. He was getting kind of old, I could see, but he stood erect and tall, and he had on a long grey winter dress coat with a scarf tucked in at the neck, and a fancy creased hat, and he was swinging a long black umbrella with a shiny wooden handle. The sun was just beginning to come up, and I finally remembered the day – 'twas Sunday morning – and I said to myself, "See, here's a good sort of man, probably on his way to church. There are still a few decent people left in this city." And then, as he got closer, I saw that he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were glassy and fixed on something just in front of him, and he was snarling to himself, words I wouldn't repeat even in anger.

  'I knew right then exactly where I was, and where I'd been all night. I knew that the Almighty had vouchsafed me a vision. Those frozen streets, the sky without stars, the ground steaming under my feet… There are spots in the world where the hellfire peeps through, and I'd just had a tour of one.

  'It was meant as a warning, of course. I put aside all thoughts of my money, made sure to keep the river on my right, and kept on moving south.

  'Well, even the longest night's got to end eventually, that's one thing I've learned, and by the time the sun was up above the buildings and the day had gotten warmer I was halfway back to the bus station. I figured I was in the normal world again, I thought I'd put all that wickedness behind me, and so when I passed an open area with statues and iron gates and big Greek-looking buildings -Jeremy's old university, it turns out -1 decided it was finally time to sit down awhile and maybe put my feet up. I'd seen the river gleaming at the end of the cross streets, with a thin green park beside it sloping down toward the water, and there seemed to be plenty of benches I could rest on before heading back. By that time my wandering was beginning to catch up with me, and rest was what I craved.

  'There were a surprising lot of old folks in the park that Sunday morning, walking dogs or just watching the river, and they all looked nice and peaceable and happy with the world. I knew I was among my own kind now. God's my witness, it was really a relief. A few of the benches were already pretty well filled, but way up ahead, past the others, I saw one that was empty except for a little old man sitting by himself, all bundled up in an overcoat and muffler, with just his little pink head peeking out like a baby's, and fuzzy white hair on the top. He had a brown paper bag on his lap, and I figured he was fixing to have lunch. But when I sat myself down at the opposite end, he pulled up the bag and stood, as if he hadn't wanted company. Well, that was all right with me; I was suddenly so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open. I remember, though, how he stopped to look down at me as he walked past, and how his whole face lit up when he smiled. Reminded me of my grandfather, or maybe even my father in one of his better moods, just like after worship. I think I may have dropped off then, at least for a se
cond or two, because when I opened my eyes he was still standing there, looking sort of concerned. But when he saw I was okay he just nodded and gave a sort of wink. Then he stuffed the bag into a trash can and strolled away, humming some peculiar little song.'

  'I hate this part,' Deborah said abruptly. She got up and went to the stove for the last of the vegetables. . He ignored her. 'I can still see that wink, and the careless, almost contemptuous way he stuffed that bag in among the garbage… Afterward I must have gone right back to sleep, because I don't remember anything else. I recall I had a dream about a man with snow-white wings, I thought it was my father come back as an angel. I don't know exactly how long I slept, but it must have been for some time, because when I woke up I was shivering, my hands were clenched like fists inside my pockets, and the day had gotten darker.

  I'd thought it was a child's cry that woke me, but there weren't any children in the park, and not many adults left either. It was late afternoon. I shook myself awake and hurried from the bench. Lord, how my body ached! Just after I passed the trash can, I heard a tiny little cry, so faint it sounded miles away. But something made me stop. I looked around, and sure enough, 'twas coming from the bag.

  'Well, Deborah knows the rest. Inside there were the remains of a sandwich – wax paper with some icy crusts of bread, a bit of meat -and six or seven newborn kittens. Dead. Frozen, I believe, though a couple looked broken like-'

  'Honey, please!'

  He nodded, the vision fading. 'I'm sorry, Deb. You're right. I'm acting like a fool. Enough to say it was a sight not fit for Christian eyes. But then I noticed a bit of movement, and I reached down and found that one of the bodies, a little grey thing underneath the others, still had a tiny breath of life left in it. I picked it up – it was so small I could hold it in one hand – and very softly it began crying, crying… '

  The sound of it came back to him, and the chill from off the river. He could feel once more the stiffness of his limbs, the pain of the wind against his numbing fingers, the exhaustion of that journey. Suddenly he felt very tired.

  'The shops there were still open,' he said at last. 'That's just about the only thing we have in common, the people of the city and the Brethren, we're none of us too proud to work on the Lord's day. But the shopkeepers in that hellish place had hearts like flint, and nary a one would give me a penny's worth of milk – not that I could have paid for even that. So I asked God for forgiveness and took the milk anyhow, a carton from a supermarket shelf. I saw to it that the creature got nourishment, warm from my own mouth. No one was looking, or if anybody was, no one seemed to care. Except for me. I cared. And I cried. God help me, that's the only time in my life I've ever stolen anything – that Sunday in that city of yours. Ten years it's been, and then some, and I've yet to set foot there again.

  'They say the Lord works in mysterious ways. I'd hoped to bring a jewel home, and now somehow I'd found one – the last innocent thing left amidst all that corruption. I kept her inside my shirt, pressed up against me, all the way back to the bus station and all the way to Flemington. She was almost dead by the time I got her home, but I knew my mother'd nurse her back to health.'

  Carol lay down her fork. 'And did she?'

  'Sarr's mother can do anything,' said Deborah, returning to the table with the salad. 'She has the healing gift.'

  'I won't deny it,' said Sarr. 'She can make things live and grow when she's a mind to.'

  'So the story has a happy ending after all.' There was relief in Carol's voice. 'And the kitten?'

  'Haven't you guessed?' Sarr bent forward and lifted Bwada onto his lap. Squatting there uncertainly with her ears bent back, claws digging into his trouser leg, the animal looked fat and sullen and dangerous, but as soon as Sarr began to scratch the silver fur between her ears she blinked contentedly and relaxed, settling herself on his lap with an almost inaudible purring.

  The others looked on, grinning; even Deborah seemed pleased -Deborah, who had heard the tale before and who bore little love for Bwada, the one cat of the seven that was Sarr's alone.

  But Sarr himself shared none of their content. Now lapsed into reverie, he was years away and thrice as many miles, remembering in Bwada's purr the susurrus of wind as it raced beneath a frozen grey sky through that desolate circle of trees; and as the cat sound swelled and deepened, taking on what almost seemed a note of warning, he heard once more the old man's peculiar little song.

  I'm among loonies, Freirs was thinking. These people are all insane! Every time somebody farts they think God is giving them a sign.

  All through the story he'd been watching Carol's face. She'd been listening with rapt attention, and at certain points – whenever Poroth had prayed or called on God – she'd gotten positively starry-eyed.

  But maybe it wasn't God that made her starry-eyed. Maybe it was Poroth.

  Well, what else did I expect? he told himself. He's a hell of a lot bigger than I am, and in a hell of a lot better shape, and that soft, low voice of his would probably make any woman think she's a little girl again being tucked into bed by her daddy.

  He wondered if Poroth talked so much whenever a new woman was around. Or perhaps it was the influence of the wine; that home-brewed stuff had been surprisingly potent. His own head was still swimming with it.

  And of course there was that brooding quality he had – something, Freirs knew from experience, that women seemed to like. It was so easy to mistake for real depth.

  Maybe this was all a bad idea, he told himself. Maybe I should never have asked her out here in the first place. Clearly Sarr's the master here. This is his world.

  'No, I'll not deny it,' he was saying to Carol. 'I still feel the attraction of the lights. But I'm a wiser man today -1 know it sounds prideful, but it's true – and I know the path we've got to follow. We've got to give up the ways of man and the ways of the city: the corruption, the idleness, the love of worldly gain. And you should too. You should come back to the only constant things: the land… and God.'

  That bastard. ^ 1 thought Friers. He's using God to make time with my girl!

  'Now I'm not saying we have it easy here, Deborah and me, and I'm not saying we have a lot of anything but work. But we're living the way the Lord wants us to, living just like people in the Bible.' Poroth's hands took in the kitchen, the farmhouse, the fields and woods beyond. 'Our only aim, really, is to abide by what the prophet said: "Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein." '

  Carol nodded as if she understood. 'Yes,' she said, 'that's Jeremiah. I kept hearing passages from him on the radio today. He must be big in these parts.'

  Deborah seemed to find this irresistibly funny. Her husband did not. 'He's the prophet of our sect,' he explained.

  Freirs spoke up. 'And a good thing, too. I sometimes think that's the only reason they let an unbeliever like me stay here – because they liked my name.'

  Carol barely seemed to hear; her eyes were still on Sarr. 'The one thing I don't understand,' she said, 'is where you're hiding your church. I drove all over Gilead and didn't see a single one.'

  'Oh, we don't go to church,' said Deborah, getting to her feet. 'We hold our meetings in the Brethren's homes. Later this month we'll be holding one here, and you're welcome to come out and see for yourself.'

  'We take our call from the Gospels,' added Sarr.' "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." '

  Carol nodded. 'I see. That's Matthew, isn't it?'

  'Hey,' said Freirs, surprised, 'you're pretty good!'

  She looked slightly embarrassed. 'Didn't I tell you? I went to parochial school for twelve years.'

  Freirs' eyes widened. 'No kidding! I knew you were Catholic and all, but – well, I guess I'd always pictured you as just a nice corn-fed country girl from some little red schoolhouse in the sticks.' He tried to remember if she'd said anything about parochial school over dinner the previous week. Probably he'd done so much o
f the talking that she'd never had a chance.

  'There's a lot you don't know about me, Jeremy,' she said. She turned to Sarr. 'You see, I may go about things a bit differently, but I've tried to live in the Lord's way too.'

  Freirs regarded them sourly. They sound like they're on speaking terms with God, he thought. But I'm not so sure I'd want to meet the Poroths' version on a dark night.

  Leaning back in his chair, he peered out the window above the sink. It was certainly dark enough out there tonight. The moon seemed to be hidden behind a cloud, with only a pale streak above the trees to mark its presence. A line from a poem came back to him: On the farm, the darkness wins. Though no doubt the Brethren would argue that the darkness here was the darkness of God.

  Beside him Deborah was clearing away the salad plates; the Poroths ate their salad European-style, just before dessert. 'Hey,' she said, nudging him gently on the shoulder, 'come back and join us. I went to a lot of trouble over what's coming.'

  It proved to be a steaming Indian pudding which had lain nearly three hours in the stove. Made of cornmeal and molasses, it was served with thick fresh cream from the Verdocks' dairy in town. 'Now, Carol,' she said, 'I sure hope you'll have no objection to this.'

  'Not the slightest,' said Carol. Her eyes widened as Deborah ladled out a generous serving for each of them. 'God, it's a wonder the two of you can even stand!'

  Freirs nodded ruefully. 'I'm still trying to figure out how they stay so thin.'

  'I have to watch that man like a hawk!' said Deborah, laughing. 'He'd eat everything in the bowl if I let him.'

  Pensively Poroth licked the spoon clean and looked up. 'They warned me about that when I married you,' he said. 'They told me, "Sarr, that woman from Sidon's going to starve you!" ' He eyed her with affection. 'But the truth is, we work hard, Deborah and me. We're at it all day, seven days a week. Keeps a body from getting fat. We don't believe in sitting on our duffs.'