My mouth is dry. Chantay looks as beautiful as ever. We are back in the living room. She sits in the middle of the four blond women. They all face me.
“I am so sorry, Chantay,” I say as I choke up.
“Quiet,” says Stansia. “We need order in this hearing. You speak when you are told to speak.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply.
“I came to find answers—closure,” says Chantay in a quiet voice.
“Me too,” I reply feeling a little relieved.
“How did you find this place?” asks Chantay. “Ripley, are you dead too?”
“No, I came here to find you. I came here to find answers and find closure.”
“If you’re not dead, then how did you find this place?” asks Chantay.
“It was not easy,” I reply.
The door abruptly flies open and in walks an Asian woman with long black hair dressed in red leather. She has on a large red hat with black trim. The hat has a wide brim. The hat is not as overtop as many hats worn during the Kentucky Derby but it would still fit in.
“Sisters of the Muse, why was I not invited to this inquisition?”
“We did not feel that your presence was warranted,” replies Cassie.
“Sisters, stop trying to cut me out of matters of our shared Muse. I tire of your disrespect,” she says as she walks towards the other women. She grabs a chair and pulls it to the women.
Six men dressed in identical black suits come into the home and close the door behind them. The men look intimidating. I would not be surprised if they carry handguns under the suits. Two of the men have black briefcases. They may carry more firepower than mere handguns. This is just a hunch. I hope I’m wrong.
“Ripley Greer, meet Kiko “Barracuda” Kuzana. Kiko, Ripley,” says Cassie as she gestures to both of us with her hands.
Shit, Barracuda. I remember that song. This is not good. I quickly remember that Salvation Road is a safe zone and calm down a little.
“Where is this Mr. Greer’s file? I need to get up to speed on this case,” says Kiko. “Hi beautiful,” she says to Chantay, “I am one of your advocates. If you believe any punishment should be meted out to Mr. Greer, I will administer said punishment.”
“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Kuzana,” says Chantay, “I want answers not more suffering.”
“Oh, please. You have not even heard his side of the story. Don’t jump to conclusions, my dear.”
“I know him. I know him well. The Ripley Greer who confronted me that morning was not the Ripley I know. The explanation he gave to Ms. Altaross seems to be very plausible. It is the only way I can make sense of what happened. Ripley was a good, loving man. He had no reason to do what he did.”
“That’s nice,” says Kiko. “Let’s go through the process. If you feel the same way after the inquisition is completed, I will honor your decision. But until then, we need to let the process play itself out. With that said, I would like to halt proceedings for an hour to look the file over. I will look this over at lunch. I will be across the street at the little cute diner. My fellow sisters of The Muse, feel free to join me. Pursuant to normal procedure, Mr. Greer should be returned to his holding room in the basement.”
“We will grant you time to review the case,” says Cassie, “and, yes, normal procedure will be followed. I will personally escort Mr. Greer to the holding room.”
The meeting has reconvened. Chantay sits in the middle facing me. To her left are Stansia “Heartless” Altaross and Kiko “Barracuda” Kuzana. To her right are Cassie “These Dreams” Michaels, Andrea “Dog & Butterfly” Fuller, and Michelle “What About Love” Reiselgaard. Barracuda’s muscle lines the wall behind the women.
“I have had the opportunity to look this file over,” says Kiko, “and this is the biggest pile of bullshit I have ever seen. Sweetheart,” she says turning toward Chantay, “don’t be a fool. Mr. Greer is a cold-blooded killer. May I add that he is a killer three times over.”
“All right,” Chantay mumbles.
“OK, that’s nice,” says Cassie, “Let’s formally begin the inquisition and let’s try to save our opinions for closing statements.”
“The black briefcase my associate had earlier,” says Kiko, “it contains all kinds of goodies to make this asshole suffer,” she says pointing at me.
“What happened to saving your opinions until the closing statements,” says Michelle.
“Sister of The Muse, Michelle, you are so much more delightful when you stay true to your real self—quiet and pretty.”
“Kiko, cut it out,” snaps Cassie.
“Kiko you might actually scare Ms. Richardson into letting Mr. Ripley off easy because of your wild assertions,” says Michelle.
Kiko frowns and lets out a sigh.
“Don’t I have the final say here?” asks Chantay. “You are only my intermediaries, right?”
“Yes,” replies Cassie.
“I want to speak with Ripley alone,” she says.
I am flooded with relief. She clearly does not want to deal with Kiko, the Barracuda, or Stansia for that matter.
The women empowered by The Muse of Heart quickly clear out of the room.
She gets up and we embrace. Tears run down her face and I can see the pain in her eyes.
“Rip, what happened, baby? Why did you do this?”
“I have no idea, honest. I would never hurt you,” I say as I kiss her on the forehead.
“You had such a vacant look in your eyes when I opened the door. I tried to reason with you but my words had no effect on you.”
“I don’t remember anything. The only information I remember is from my session at anotherloverholenyohead.”
“So they helped you get control of the implant at Trombipulation?”
“Yes, Maggot Brain did an excellent job of disabling the tech.”
She sighs and hugs me tightly.
“What about your parents? I can’t believe you killed them too.”
“Me either.”
“Do you plan on making things right with them?”
“Yes, I’m going to try and communicate with them at The Man in the Mirror Spiritual Boutique.”
“I hear the healing magic there is very powerful. Good luck,” says Chantay.
“Wait… I can stay here. We can be together again.”
“I can’t stay here, Rip. This place is too wild for a church girl like me. I need to move on to my final resting place. I only ended up here to make sense of what happened between us. I have what I need. It is time for me to move on.”
I try to suppress a sob but I can’t.
“I understand. I am so sorry,” I choke as tears roll down my face. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s OK,” she whispers. “That man was not you. My old Ripley is back. I love you too… But I have to go. I can’t stay here. This place is too scary. It’s too chaotic for me.”
“I understand,” I say as our lips meet.
I am walking back to Crabtree the Third and it is 5:00 in the morning. The streets of Suffragette City are now quiet. I could not sleep. Too much has happened. I’ve been walking all over this section of the city taking in all of the nightlife. People for the most part have been happy and in a partying mood. I have, however, seen a few drunks engage in fights.
I hear a sound like something large just fell and turn around. A man’s body lies on the ground not more than six feet behind me.
I look around. I am in a dark unlit spot. Fuck. I need to get my head into the game. This guy could’ve killed me.
I start to walk toward the body.
“Stay back,” says a male voice.
A figure dressed in all black leaps off the roof of the store across the street and lands silently on the pavement.
He walks toward me.
“Let the poison take maximum affect,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say. “Why did you kill him?”
“To protect you. Somebody has paid me a very nice sum to w
atch over you. He said you could get distracted and lose focus. I guess he was right.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Thank you again.”
“Who asked you to look after me?”
“I’m not sure. This person contacted me by e-mail. We never met. He sent me a picture of you and deposited a shit load of credits into my account. He also gave me a pretty sweet skull cap with electrodes and matching glasses so that I could keep track of you through The City’s surveillance system if I lost visual contact with you.”
“Oh, that sounds like a nice piece of technology.”
“It is nice—and I get to keep it.”
I am now at the body. I look down at the body. A small cartridge with a pin is sticking out of his neck.
“Nice shot,” I say.
“Thanks,” he replies.
“Crossbow or tranq gun?” I look across the street. “It is way too far for a blow gun.”
“Yeah, I’m good but not that good. Tranq gun.”
“Thank you again. What’s your name?”
“That’s classified. My Muse is new and I’ve been told to keep a very low profile.”
“Understood. I’ll just call you friend. Thank you again friend. Can you share what your Muse is?”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“OK, I get it. No, problem. I would love to buy you a drink but that seems to be out of the question.”
“Yes, that is but you can do me a favor.”
“What is that?”
“Give me a referral for a nice woman at one of the Crabtrees. They’re all pretty so that’s a given. I want a woman who is intelligent and has a sense of humor. She doesn’t have to be wild in bed or anything. I am sure the sex will be good. I want an enhanced experience. I pay well.”
“Does race matter?”
“No. I am madly in love with all women.”
“Camille, she works at Crabtree the Third. She fits what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you,” he says as he disappears into the shadows of the alley.
I look at the body of the man lying on the ground. I should at least look at his face but I have no desire to do so.
I then turn around and head back to Crabtree the Third.
“Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd plays in the background. I am lying on the bed in my room at Crabtree The Third and my eyes are closed. Earlier, I watched the intricate gestures of Norman Redman’s healing hands. I need this because I have not been out of my bed or room in three days. The few minutes I spent with Chantay drained me that much. Computer Blue told me Chantay went through the House of the Rising Sun. I will never see her again.
Norman “Comfortably Numb” Redman is doing good work. He is a balding, longhaired, plump, white man. He has a small shop on Salvation Road. From what I am told, his shop is an old one-room shack with half-peeled off white paint. His healing is slowly working. It has been a long healing session. His warm up therapy consisted of me lying in the middle of the floor and him dancing around me to the entire Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall albums. Since the dancing he has been chanting as “Comfortably Numb” plays quietly in the background.
The song has a hypnotic quality and maybe that is what I need. I need the memories of the last two months to be purged from my mind, body and soul.
As Norman works, I feel layers of pain and suffering peeling off of my being.
I go through fits of crying to brief ecstasy and back to crying again. I understand the crying but I am baffled by the emotional highs.
He stops chanting.
“Life is about ups and downs. Happiness is defined by sadness and vice versa. If you do not have one, you can’t have the other. Happiness and sadness give each other meaning and definition,” he tells me in a soothing voice.
Computer Blue is right. This type of therapy, although long and emotionally taxing, is needed.
I am coming off of a high now and the pain rises from deep within me. I feel an invisible layer of pain ripping away from me. I cry out and tears flood my eyes.
“It is OK, my friend,” says Norman. “Give into your pain. Body and spirit must meet. They must become one. In awakening and manifesting your pain, you will shine a light on your happiness and many blessings. It will be fine. You are strong. You will survive this. You have so much to look forward to.”
“She is gone. I will never see her again.”
“Don’t weep, my friend, rejoice. She’s in a better place. She sacrificed by coming here for you, so the two of you could say your goodbyes and make amends. She is where she needs to be. She’s where she wants to be.
“I know. I’ve been so selfish.”
“Now, now, death and letting go is a hard process. You are no different than anyone else. It will be OK. You need to forgive yourself. Sometimes in life, worldly forces are stronger than any one man. That is what happened to you. There is nothing you could have done to change what happened. Life can be cruel sometimes.”
“Yes, it can be. Life can be very cruel…”
I stare out the window looking into the black night of Suffragette City. The City is even more vibrant during the night than in the day. I have mixed feelings about Suffragette City. It is hauntingly beautiful. I have a deep spiritual bond with this place. It also reeks of decadence. It is a place of extremes. The in-between—the middle in Suffragette City does not naturally find you like back home. You have to actively seek and find it. Strange. So strange, yet so beautiful.
I am ready to leave. It is time to move on.
I will always remember this Beautiful Stranger. There I go again—this city now occupies a piece of me. It has to, or I would not be thinking of a Madonna song to describe it. But, that is how she is.
Suffragette City is a strange mistress—and she is a mistress. No one will over own or possess her. No one will truly ever understand her. It is similar to the beautiful music that powers her. Does one truly ever know why we love certain songs? Why out of nowhere we will start humming a song—a song we claim to hate—out of the blue.
I hope this not a final goodbye. I would like to come back. You need many visits to begin to understand the power of this city. Suffragette City—its strange, mystical power—its strange, alluring, dangerous beauty. I hope one day we will meet again.
I am about to take my second trip to Salvation Road. Salvation Road is different than the rest of the city. It’s the only place in The City where I truly feel safe. It also lacks the powerful swirling magic that engulfs the rest of The City. The energy can be exciting and even exhilarating but I enjoy the peaceful energy of Salvation Road.
I am in the Man in the Mirror. I had to go through extensive interviews to prepare for my séance.
The Man in the Mirror is also located on Salvation Road. Salvation Road is an interesting place. Everywhere else in The City consists of one building after another. There are no breaks except for streets and very little green space. Salvation Road is the one exception in The City. It has lots of green space. There are parks, gardens, waterfalls and ponds. In some places along Salvation Road, the landscaping is breathtaking. The various spiritual emporiums and healing shops are interspersed throughout the green space of the long and winding road. Salvation Road runs the entire length of the city and I am told The City’s only two forests book end the extreme north and south sides of Salvation Road.
Before me sits Tina “The Earth Song” Defino, Christian “Never Can Say Goodbye” Halverstock, Marcus “You Are Not Alone” Amir-Muhammad, and Rebecca “Smile” Martinez.
They are all dressed in white robes with black buttons and black trim. Marcus told me earlier that they are all strict vegans. They all seem to be in their late 20s or early 30s.
Tina “The Earth Song” Delfino is a tall skinny white woman with stringy light brown hair. Despite some acne she is very attractive.
Christian “Never Can Say Goodbye” Halverstock is s short bald-headed black man.
Marcus “You’re Not Alone” Amir-Muhammad is a tall lank
y brown skinned man with short twisty braids. He has a prominent gap in his upper middle teeth. He is a happy jovial man who smiles a lot.
Rebecca “Smile” Martinez is a five foot five Hispanic woman with short black hair. She is thin but has a strength about her.
We are in the living room of a small one story white home. The Michael Jackson Muse believe the home is a model of Michael’s boyhood home in Gary, Indiana. They sit on simple beige couches facing me. I sit on an old metal folding chair.
The soup of roots and herbs Tina “Earth Song” made is starting to take effect. The bush she is burning is also adding to the effect.
My mind is hazy and my body is relaxed.
“Just relax, Ripley,” says Tina. “The four of us will simultaneously chant the name of your parents together to summon them here. All you need to do is relax your mind.”
“Will I be able to see them or just hear them?”
“You will at least be able to hear them,” answers Tina. “You will probably be able to see them as well. You may be able to feel and touch them.”
“Wow, touch them?”
“Yes, in rare cases that is a bonus. I can make no promises though,” says Tina.
“Let’s do it.”
“Ripley when the spirits of your parents arrive, we will stay out of the way and let you talk with them. We rarely say anything once the parties of a séance start talking,” says Christian.
“OK, that is good to know.”
“Theresa Jansing. Cecil Greer. We summon you,” the four healers say in unison. “We summon you to meet with your son, Ripley Greer. Theresa Jansing and Cecil Greer you have unfinished business with your son.”
“Your son seeks forgiveness,” says Tina.
“Your son loves you,” says Christian.
“There is an explanation for his actions,” says Marcus.
“Come and hear what Ripley has to say,” says Rebecca.
There is a pop and a sizzling sound. The air starts to shimmer. A vague outline of my parents appear. My mother is on the right and my father is on the left. My parents stand in front of the four healers.
Salvation Road: Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow Page 7