“I was worried about you. I wanted to see how you were doing.” Sue rubs her eyes and sits up with a grunt. “Have you been lying here since we left?”
“I guess. What time’s it?”
“About five.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“It’s Monday.”
“Oh.” She gives a snort of laughter. “Bit worse.”
I go over to the bed and sit down on the edge of the mattress. “I didn’t realize that things had degenerated to this. I should have done more.”
“No offense, Belle, but if you’d tried to do more, I would’ve had to smack you with the frying pan.” She’s speaking in a monotone, so I can’t be sure whether she’s joking, but of course she must be.
“Be that as it may, I clearly haven’t been doing enough. Just look at you.”
“Thanks. That’s really encouraging.”
“You know what I mean.” I edge a bit closer to her; she moves a bit further away. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You think I know what’s wrong? If I did, I’d be trying to fix it.”
“I know what it is to feel powerless. There’s an immense difference between knowing what needs to be done and having the courage to take action.”
She doesn’t answer me immediately. When she does, her voice is distant. “Everything’s gone to shit.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
“Yeah, it has. It’s all been shit since ...” She trails off, and I give her a few moments to finish the sentence on her own before I press her.
“Since what? Since you quit your job? You couldn’t have stayed there under those conditions —”
“No.” The word is spoken forcefully, and it appears that she needs a few seconds to recover from it before she speaks again. “It was before that.”
Before that ... The answer comes to me eventually, and I frown deeply. “That man?”
“Yeah. Nick.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you said that it went well with him?”
“It did. I mean, he didn’t take a swing at me or anything. It was just ...” She turns her face toward the pillow, which muffles her voice. “I guess it got to me.”
“What got to you?”
“Him, I guess. I don’t know. It was different.” Her hand closes over the sheet. “It was hard. It hurt. It didn’t feel right; it still doesn’t.”
I sigh. “Oh, Sue.” This time, I do put my hand over hers. “I knew that he was trouble. You should have ended it when I advised you to. If it hadn’t gone on so long, I’m sure that it wouldn’t have affected you so strongly.”
“Maybe.” A pause. “Maybe I shouldn’t have ended it at all.”
“What are you talking about? You couldn’t stay with him.”
“I don’t know. If I had, maybe —”
“You would have been miserable.” My grip tightens. “It might have taken months or years, but in the end, he would have destroyed you.” She doesn’t answer, and I shake her arm. “Sue.”
She pulls her arm away and rolls onto her back. Her mouth twitches, and it takes me a moment to realize that she’s on the verge of laughter. “Yeah, I know. You’ve told me enough.”
“You know that I’m right.”
“Maybe.” Her strength seems to leave her all of a sudden, and she slumps down on the pillows. “I just need to work through some of this shit. I’ve just got to rest.”
You’ve been resting for days. If rest could fix this, it would have done it by now. I examine her, and see no trace of the beacon of strength that she has always been to me. Gertrude ... is this what happened to Emily? Did she just crawl into bed like the Lily Maid and decide to stop living? My eyes sting, and I swipe at them with my right hand. No. Not my Sister. Over my dead body.
“Belle?” Sue pushes herself up onto her elbow with what looks like a great effort. “You okay?”
I blink rapidly and force myself to smile. “Yes.” I stand up. “I’ll let you rest for now, then. If you need anything, anything at all —”
“Thanks,” Sue says, and closes her eyes.
I walk out of her room in a trancelike state. In the living room, I dispose of the cookies and tea and rinse out the mugs before I take another look around the apartment. I have to do something to help her. What can I do?
While I consider this, I wander around, making neater piles of some of the clutter. I’m startled out of this task, however, when Sue’s phone falls out of a jacket, and I cast the jacket aside in favour of opening the phone and scrolling through the list of contacts. There are a few names there that I don’t recognize, but they aren’t important right now.
For a moment, I’m afraid that Sue might have deleted his number, but eventually, it comes up. Nick. I take a moment to consider my next move. If I call him, what will happen? I don’t know what happened between them; I don’t even know how hostile it was, and yet ...
I copy Nick’s number into my contacts and replace her phone. Then, I walk out and lock the door behind me. For good measure, I also sketch a protective blessing in the air over it.
“Sue isn’t doing well, Gertrude,” I say, kneeling before the altar. “I’ve told you about what she does with men. One of them ... he’s gotten to her. She won’t listen to me. She doesn’t even seem to remember who she is.” I look up at her. “I’m not sure what to do ... but I have an idea.”
I pause to take a deep breath, and the subtle perfume of the incense strengthens me. “If she were to see him again, she might remember why she decided to leave him in the first place. At least, it would provide her with some closure, help her to move on.” I feel myself slouching, and straighten up as soon as I realize it. Posture, Isabella, Gertrude so often reminded me. “I have his phone number. I could arrange something. And if she won’t leave her apartment ...” I reach under the altar for my purse, and take Sue’s keys out. “I can give him access to it.” I stare at her picture for several moments; when no answer is forthcoming, I add: “What should I do?”
I let my mind drift. I see Sue as she once was, as she will be again, a glorious avenging goddess. Opposite her, I see a faceless shadow. The goddess is powerful, but restrained; the shadow is advancing, and as it draws closer to her, a powerful sense of dread fills me. Take care, Isabella, Gertrude’s voice says to me. Your friend treads a dangerous path, and in choosing to help her, so do you.
“I do not fear danger,” I whisper.
Nor should you. I feel a breeze on my face, almost like a caress. Do what you feel is right. Do your best, and leave the rest to the Fates.
I sit there long enough for the incense to burn out and the tea to go cold. When I do finally rise, I am decided. Summoning Nick is dangerous, but Sue can’t fight against his ghost. I take my phone out. I have to trust her.
He answers quickly, and gruffly. “Hello?”
“Good afternoon. Is that Nick?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“My name is Belle. We’ve never met. I’m a friend of Sue Wyman’s.” He doesn’t respond. “I apologize for disturbing you, but there’s something that we need to discuss.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“I’d rather not do it over the phone. Could we meet somewhere?”
“Uh ... I guess. But what’s this about?” I look at Gertrude’s picture. If I give him too much information now, he might not even consider it; if we meet in person, he won’t be able to just hang up, but if I don’t give him anything, he might not consent to meet at all. What do I do?
“Hey, you still there?” he barks.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Something’s happened to Sue. She needs your help.”
“What happened?”
“I’ve already told you I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Will you meet with me or not?”
The clock on the bedroom wall counts out twelve seconds before he responds. “Okay. I don’t know what the hell you expect from me. Last time I saw Sue, she was walking out on me.”
> “When are you free?”
“Mondays and Wednesdays.”
“This Wednesday is good. I’ll call you with the details.”
Denise
BY THE TIME I get a chance to talk to Clyde about the Chopin CD, it’s a week and a half after our shopping trip. I’ve been looking for an opportunity since I listened to it for the first time, but we’ve both been so busy and he spent most of last week away from the office.
Today, though, I manage to catch him at the photocopier. “Hi,” I say, trying to sound like I’m surprised to see him there.
“Oh, hey, Denise.” He glances up at me, then back down at the keypad. “Just going to be a second. Jennifer’s been waiting on these all day.”
“That’s okay. I mean, not that she’s been waiting all day, of course, but that you’re using the copier ...” I cut myself off before I can say anything even more stupid. “How are you?”
“Pretty good.” He hits the Start button, then turns his back to the machine as his documents disappear into the feeder. “How about you? Heard you’re putting in plenty of OT.”
“Yeah. But I’m okay. Just, you know, less game time.” I fidget with the paper in my hands. “I listened to the Chopin CD,” I say softly, in case he doesn’t want anyone to overhear us, and possibly infer that he’s been buying me things.
“You what?” The photocopier chooses this moment to beep, and he grunts. “Just a second.” I watch him run his finger across the display, then lean over and pull some crumpled paper out of one of the side doors. “Sorry,” he says as he drops it into the wastepaper basket next to the copier. “You were saying?”
“I, um, listened to the CD you gave me. Chopin?”
“Yeah, of course. How was it?”
“It was really nice. There’s this one song ... I suppose it’s called a ‘piece’, though, isn’t it?”
“I know what you mean.” He’s smiling. “Go on.”
“Okay. Well, anyway, it’s called ‘Grande Valse Brillante’. You’ve probably heard of it, it’s pretty famous ... oh, but you said you didn’t get into Chopin, so maybe you don’t.” He’s staring at me, and it’s making me self-conscious. Wrap it up. “Anyway. It’s really good. I’ve listened to it almost every day since I discovered it.”
“That’s awesome! I’m so glad you like it.” He turns back to the copier to collect his papers and then back to me. “Sometimes these bargain bin collections are on sale for a reason, y’know?”
I laugh, a bit too loudly. “I know what you mean. There’s plenty of games I’ve taken out of the bargain bin and immediately missed the ten bucks I spent on them.”
“For sure, right?” He chuckles, then raises the stack of paper. “I should get this to Jennifer.”
“Right. I should get back to work too.” I lift my own couple of sheets of paper and feel slightly pathetic. “Thanks again.”
“Sure thing.” I’ve just set my documents in the feeder when his voice makes me jump. “Hey, Denise?”
I snap my head up. “Yes?”
“Do you want to go out for a drink tonight?”
My heart starts to speed up and it takes me a second before I feel confident enough in my voice to speak, not that I know what to say. Say no. Remember what Belle told you. Remember what you discussed, about being a priestess and all that? Which end of the knife do you want to end up on, Denise? It was such a simple question then, but now he’s standing here, so expectantly, and I know it would make him so happy if I would just say “Yes,” and who knows, maybe it would make me happy too. I like him. We get along well together. Sure, it could all turn to crap, just like before ... but he’s not Brian, and I’m smarter now, aren’t I? I could make it work, I think ... and I’d know if I couldn’t before it was too late.
“Trying to come up with an excuse?” he says with a grin.
“No, of course not.” I pause to think it over one last time, and am only mildly surprised to find that my choice is already made. “Why not?”
“Really? Great!” He laughs. “I can’t wait to see the look on Rose’s face when you walk in.”
I blink. “Rose? Will she be there too?”
“Yeah, of course. We’re not going to celebrate her birthday without her, are we?”
“Oh.” What did I say yes to? “Who else will be there?”
“Not sure. I invited pretty much the whole office. Even Jennifer said she might swing by. Can you imagine Jennifer drunk?” He grins. “Promise you’ll get me pictures if you’re sitting next to her.” I don’t say anything, but the horror must be evident on my face, because his gets more serious as he says: “You okay? Looks like you’re freaking out a little bit.”
“No, I’m fine.” I try to smile, but I can’t quite manage it.
“You sure?”
“Yes, of course.” This time, I do manage to smile, though briefly.
He studies me for a few more seconds, then shrugs. “Okay, then. We’re going to Masterson’s, you know, the one a few blocks down from here, corner of 24th Street?”
“Yes.” That’s a lie; I’ve never heard of the place, but I’m sure the internet will be able to provide directions. I suddenly want this conversation to end as quickly as possible,
“Cool. See you there, then.” He starts walking backward. “It’s going to be a blast.”
“I’m sure I will,” I say, fighting the urge to slam my head on the photocopier.
Clyde’s shift finishes an hour and a half after mine, so I wander the streets for a while before I begin making my way to Masterson’s. It turns out to be a small hole-in-the-wall tavern, the kind of place that I would usually just walk by without even glancing at, much less consider going into. Still, I did promise Clyde, and so I force myself to open the door and walk in.
The tavern is surprisingly well-lit; it even seems reasonably clean. The walls have the appearance of wood panelling under the array of posters, paintings, and dartboards. In the corner to the left of the bar, there’s a pool table, and the rest of the space is devoted to tables, with a few booths along the wall.
It’s also surprisingly crowded, and it takes me a few minutes to find my co-workers. They’re at one of the middle tables: Rose is wearing a plastic tiara and laughing hysterically at something that Karen’s saying. Allen’s sitting across from her, and sure enough, there’s Jennifer, sipping a bright pink cocktail ... but I don’t see Clyde. Where is he? This would be hard enough with him here; I definitely can’t face them on my own.
Panic tries to set in, but I somehow manage to keep myself under control as I step further away from the door and try to blend into the crowd. I could leave, I suppose; tell Clyde that I changed my mind, and spend the evening listening to Chopin and playing games instead. But that would be breaking my promise, wouldn’t it? And I do still owe him for buying me the CD. I’m just going to have to tough it out.
I go up to the bar and order a glass of white wine. At first, I try to keep my voice low in case my coworkers somehow manage to hear me through the din of other conversations, but the bartender doesn’t understand and I’m forced to raise my voice. As soon as he nods and begins reaching for the bottle, I turn around and check whether anyone’s noticed me; fortunately, they all appear to be engrossed in some anecdote of Rose’s.
With my drink secured, I make my way to one of the corner booths, which is thankfully empty, and sit with my back to my co-workers’ table. They shouldn’t be able to see me from this angle, but just to be safe, I slouch down until my head is lower than the backrest. “Lovely way to spend an evening,” I mutter into my wineglass as I take a sip.
About ten excruciating minutes later, I hear Clyde call out, “Hey, birthday girl!” and Rose’s high-pitched giggle. I risk a quick peek over the back of my booth, and see him hugging her; I duck back down quickly, and hope that neither of them has seen me. It occurs to me that I’ve quite literally cornered myself: if I go and join them now, it’ll be obvious to everyone, including Clyde himself, that I’m only
here to see him. If I try to slip out now, though, I’ll be breaking my promise to Clyde, and might get caught anyway.
I’m staring down into my wine glass like it’s Belle’s dark mirror, and I expect to find some kind of answer in there, when the seat across from me creaks. My breath catches when I find Clyde leaning across the table with a quizzical expression. “Hey. What are you doing all the way over here? Party’s that way.” He points at their table, as though he suspects that I might not have been able to find it on my own.
“Oh ... yeah, of course it is. I just ...” My face feels like it’s on fire, and I look down at the table. What am I supposed to say to him? I’m not at all ready for this; I wasn’t expecting it.
“This is really that miserable for you, huh?” he asks softly, and his tone surprises me so much that I look up.
“I wouldn’t say ... miserable, exactly.”
He laughs gently. “You’re hiding in a corner with a glass of wine while the party’s going on behind you. It doesn’t look like you’re having fun.”
I notice that my glass is starting to shake and set it down on the table. “This isn’t really my idea of a good time.”
“Then why did you come?” He’s not reproaching me; he really seems to be trying to understand.
I thought it would be just you and I. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“You never seemed to care about that before.”
“I guess I cared this time.” I look down at my half-full glass. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. I should be apologizing to you. I just never thought, you know ... you might really not want to go.”
“You thought I was acting?” My voice is sad, but there’s also a bit of an edge to it.
“No, that’s not what I mean. I just ... I figured once you were here, you’d have fun.” He sighs. “I guess some people really do just like being alone, huh?”
Of course not. No one wants to be alone. I briefly consider trying to explain that to him, but it seems so pointless. Someone like him, who thinks that the company of just anyone is enough to not be lonely, would never be able to understand where I’m coming from. “I guess,” is all I say.
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