Slow Funeral

by Rebecca Ore

  “All the leaves are gone,” he said. “I know that’s the way it’s supposed to be, but it feels wrong.”

  “California greening up in the winter always felt wrong to me,” Maude said. She wondered if his sense of wrongness came simply from the bare trees.

  “There are some pines, hemlocks. And rhododendron. We’ve got rhododendron out west.”

  “Not like here,” Maude said.

  “And it’s all a grey brown, not a yellow brown.”

  “Cold got it, not drought. When I saw so many grassy hills in California, I thought they’d been overgrazed,” Maude said.

  Douglas didn’t answer, but returned to the car. Maude got back in the driver’s seat and looked over at him. He looked cold.

  She said, “I’ve always wanted to see this place through alien eyes. A Californian will do.”

  “Even the air is different.”

  “Sometimes, I think even the physics could be different.”

  He looked over at her and said, “Do you really believe that.”

  “Why not?”

  “The same laws work everywhere.”

  “And the universe doesn’t cut deals.”

  He laughed, but then said, “Perhaps we don’t understand all the connections.”

  Maude said, “How would you prove magic?”

  “Science is a negative cutout of the universe, a compendium of what we know it isn’t and some theories we haven’t disproved about what it is. And engineering uses things that consistently work for nerds and anyone who punches the right buttons. Sometimes, I’d prefer a system that forced people to make personal deals.”

  “Oh,” Maude said. “They said different things about science in high school. And from what you were saying in the bar when we met, I thought you believed in magic.”

  “I bet your school taught you to think science was an absolute system. Science types want lay people to know enough to appreciate science, and appreciate enough to give money. Magic? I’d like to believe, that’s all.”

  “I’d like not to believe,” Maude said.

  “So, what is this magic you believe in? Is it consistent? Does it follow rules? Can the technique be taught?”

  “It’s personal relationships with the universe. Everyone is a puppet of an entity, maybe more than one entity, and they think they’re at least making deals, at best, commanding the entities.”

  “You’d have to prove to me that this car, say, works for you, but wouldn’t work for me.”

  “A horse might.”

  “But a horse does have a personality.”

  “And a car doesn’t?” She looked at him.

  He said, “Pull over and let me drive. You’re looking over at me too much.”

  She found a place to pull over and let him have the wheel. He turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened.

  “Shit,” he said.

  “Maybe I should drive.”

  “So, what’s the trick? Or did it coincidentally break a timing belt while we were talking about it?”

  “You want to believe in magic, don’t you?” Maude said. “Let me try.” They traded places and the car started just fine.

  He said, “This isn’t magic, it’s coincidence. What happens is that people hate believing in an arbitrary universe. They take a coincidence like that and imagine the car intended to run for you and not for me.”

  “Want to try again?” Maude asked.

  He laughed. “You know your car better them I do.”

  She said, “I’m glad you’re here. I was beginning to think the universe could cut deals with people.”

  “But that would make it even more random, statistically.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah, an observer who didn’t know about the deals would find the universe to be quite chaotic.”

  Maude thought about that and said, “But if you knew the people, what happened would be obvious?”

  “In a magic universe, would everyone have magic powers?” he asked.

  “Of course not,” Maude said. “If magic worked for everyone, it would just be physics.”

  He said, “I’ve got to think about that for a bit.”

  “Remember, magic has intentions of its own. Lots of different powers, some in conflict with others.”

  “Can you let me try the car again?”

  “No, I know the road better than you do.”

  He asked, “Do you really believe what you’ve been telling me? We’re beyond flirting in a Berkeley bar now.”

  She said, “Can you disprove it?”

  “Let me try to drive the car again.”

  Maude pulled over and traded places with him again. The car engine started. The car ran for about a hundred yards and died. Douglas coasted off to a convenient shoulder. The ignition worked, but the car engine wouldn’t feed gas.

  “If it had done that on the mountain, we couldn’t have pulled off so easily,” Maude said.

  “But we might have coasted farther,” Douglas said. “What happened now?”

  “Vapor lock is the engineering explanation,” Maude said, “but if the car starts again without cooling off completely, I’d say the witches were trying to get your attention.”

  “Vapor lock. You ought to use higher octane gas.”

  “I use Aunt Betty’s gas treatment.”

  “Like STP? Added octane.”

  “Let me try it,” Maude said. But this time, the car didn’t start. “It is vapor locked. You say a higher octane gas will help?”

  “In an old car, I’d say so.”

  Maude got out and raised the hood so the car would cool faster. Doug stayed in the car for a while, then got out himself and began pottering around the roadside cut. He found a fairystone, one of the perfect crosses that was so rare.

  “We’re right on the faultline,” Maude said when he showed it to her. “Bracken County has its own microplate. It wasn’t originally part of North America.”

  “Geology affects people,” he said.

  “Does geology have a personality?”

  “Different rocks grow different plants. Elevation affects climate, drainage. Those things affect people.”

  “Nothing personal about it,” Maude said, smiling.

  He said, “I reserved judgment on magic, myself, but the concept does fascinate me. But do you believe in magic?”

  “When I was in California, you thought I shouldn’t be getting crazy welfare. Are you beginning to wonder?”

  “No. If you learned these stories as a child and haven’t had real training in science and technology, you could believe them without being crazy. Consider religions. They’re intellectually nutty, but no one gets committed for believing in Jesus.”

  “You found a perfect fairystone in a roadside cut where hundreds of people have been looking for fairystones. The normal crystal formation is an X.”

  “High odds don’t imply intervention.”

  “You want to play with magic, though. That’s what intrigued you about me. That’s what took you to Susan after I left.”

  He closed his hand on the fairystone. “I’m not your husband.”

  “She sent me the jadeite stones. She’s just a wannabe witch. The stones have more personality than she does.”

  “Look, you didn’t have to leave California.”

  “I did too. Nobody was taking decent care of my grandmother.” Maude got back in the car. The engine started; the gas kept feeding. Douglas sat down in the passenger side, his hand still gripping the fairystone.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He looked down at his fist and said, “The stone seems to be squirming.”

  “It wasn’t really a cross, but rather another X,” Maude said. By the time they got to the house in Kobold, the two staurolite crystals making the cross weren’t at right angles to each other.

  “I remember when it was a perfect cross,” Douglas said. “Perhaps the magic wants your attention,” Maude said. “We just saw what we wanted to see.”

  “H
ow do scientists and engineers guard against that?” Maude asked.

  “The results have to be the same regardless of who does the experiment. And bridges have to stay up regardless of the engineer’s personal charms.”

  Neither of them said anything more until Maude pulled into the driveway at her grandmother’s house. Doug opened his hand and showed Maude the fairystone. It still wasn’t perfect. Lula opened the door and said, “You didn’t come straight back.”

  “We had car problems,” Maude said.

  “And you stopped to look for fairystones,” Lula said, seeing the one in Douglas’s hand.

  “This is Douglas’s vacation,” Maude replied.

  “You’ve got a grandmother to think about,” Lula said. Douglas picked up his backpack and his carry-on bag, saying, “I asked her to let me drive.”

  “And the car vapor-locked,” Maude added.

  Lula looked at them. Doug smiled at Lula and said, “I didn’t know the car didn’t like men.”

  “I don’t like men myself, but if you’re polite, I won’t mind having you around.”

  Maude said, “He can sleep in the middle bedroom.”

  “You must have known each other a while in California.”

  “I met her in a bar. She said she lived in a wannabe magicians’ commune and I was intrigued.”

  “Let’s pretend magic isn’t real,” Maude said.

  Lula started, “Maude’s a don’t-wannabe witch. If I had her chances…”

  “The magic’s real. But the magic’s mean,” Maude said. “She’s afraid of it.”

  “Something happened to the fairystone,” Doug said. “As I don’t think I’m crazy, I’ll consider that this might be a pocket universe. Maybe the iron ore and quartz focuses mental energies.”

  “How’d you know about the quartz?” Lula asked.

  “I read about it in a Virginia trail guide. I plan to take Maude camping with me while I’m visiting.”

  Maude realized if she and Doug wanted a sex life, they would have to have it in the woods. “How’s Partridge?” she asked.

  “Holding up,” Lula said.

  Doug held the door for both of them. Lula nodded at Maude as if her man was better than expected for a Californian. “Here’s your room,” Maude said in the middle bedroom. Doug stopped to lay down his bags while the two women went through to Partridge’s room.

  Partridge sat up in the bed. She looked at Doug silently for a moment, then said, “Turn around, but to the right.” He did. Maude wondered if he was as embarrassed displaying himself as she was watching. He came around posed like a sculpture, one hip cocked.

  Partridge said, “You’re a fine figure of a man.” Maude wondered if Partridge heard too much praise as a young woman and revenged herself on dead men by ogling young males.

  Douglas said, “If you need, I’d be glad to hire additional help. Maude said Lula alone is a trifle burdened by all your care.”

  Maude wondered where he picked up his Southern phraseology.

  Lula said, “If you buy us a microwave, I can heat up what Maude fixes before she goes off with you.” Lula seemed sly.

  Douglas and Partridge laughed. Douglas said, “If you can’t work a blender, why a microwave?”

  “Don’t have to clean it,” Maude said.

  “Don’t cut when you clean it,” Lula said. “Blenders are mean, all those blades and pieces to lose.”

  Maude almost warned Douglas that Lula was trying to see what she could get out of him. Instead, she said, “We can’t take long trips because I’m not in shape, so we’ll see how it goes.” She didn’t want to leave Partridge with Lula for very long.

  “Where can I get a microwave oven in this county?” Douglas asked.

  “Not here,” Lula said. “You have to bring it in from the outside.”

  “You can just heat my food on the stove,” Partridge said. “Such a fuss, you make me feel guilty for being old.”

  Lula, her eyes half closed and lips pulled back, turned toward Partridge.

  Douglas said, “Let me get settled in.” He walked away and shut the door between the two rooms.

  Lula told Partridge, “Maude’s brought in an engineer who’s fascinated with magic.”

  Partridge said, “I don’t know what’s worse, people who use magic without admitting it or people who are sentimental about magic without understanding it.”

  Maude thought Douglas would understand magic better if he met some of its victims, so she took him to the Boogey Parlor. The most light was over the pool table where three men, one in bib overalls, shot pool. Jake stood at the bar, clicking his hook to “Faster Horses, Younger Women, and More Money” playing on the jukebox. He looked around when Maude said “Hi, Jake,” and frowned when he saw she was with another man.

  “Oh, Maude. Imported or local?” Jake asked.

  Doug said, “What?”

  “Must be imported, because I don’t remember him.”

  “Hi, I’m Douglas Sanderheim. I’m here from Berkeley on vacation.”

  “Strange place for a vacation,” Jake said. “You’re here because of Maude.”

  “She told me about the place. Some.”

  Jake clicked his hook once, sharply, as if the noise would make both of them go away. Maude put her hand on Doug’s arm and said to Jake, “He’s fascinated by magic.”

  All the men at the bar went silent, heads tilted toward Jake. Their hands holding beer and fried foods slowed, then they drank or chewed as quietly as they could, listening. Jake said, “Yeah, magic does fascinate, doesn’t it? You get all fascinated into thinking you can walk on air, Douglas, my man. And crazy people like it here too, because boogeys really are after them.”

  Doug looked around the bar and said, “I’m just curious.”

  “So was my kid,” a man murmured from the end of the bar.

  “A fairystone bent for him,” Maude said. “Maybe. Doug thinks maybe he just saw what he wanted to see.”

  “Oh, if only I could see what I want to see.” Jake looked at his hooks. “So the stone piqued your curiosity?” He whistled, then said, “Here, boy.” He whistled again, waving his arms. “Have we got your attention now, Mr. Douglas from Berkeley?”

  Maude didn’t explain that she’d been better in bed with Doug than she suspected was naturally possible. Doug said, “Maude wanted me to see this bar. Why?”

  “We’re the magic victims,” Jake said. “We lost kids to unseemly curiosity, hands to feed augers we were sure were off, eyes to exploding receivers in brand-new rifles. We get carpel tunnel syndrome after working in a factory for half a day. Our wives sew tiny stitches into the web between the thumb and pointing finger when they try to mend our clothes.” He spread his good hand and pointed to the web with his hooks. “Unlucky bastards, us.”

  “Perhaps you just blame the magic for natural enough failings,” Doug said. “Maude, I’d just as soon have pizza. Isn’t there a place in town?”

  Back in the car, Maude said, “Why is an engineer so fascinated with magic? My father became an engineer because he hated it.” She’d been reluctant to talk about her father’s profession before. Men resented being like their women’s fathers.

  “I like the idea of a personal relationship with the universe. The principles I work with work even for people who don’t understand them. I hate empowering the weak.” Maude almost said her dad loved making water safe. No daddy comparisons wanted, thanks. She said, “But you didn’t make that stone realign itself.”

  “If there’s magic, perhaps it was trying to prove it really existed. You weren’t going to enlighten me.”

  “You’d have thought I was crazy if I told you how much I did believe in it. And fear it.”

  “Can’t you work some magic?”

  “I suspect I can slow time. My great aunt wants me to learn more.” Maude wondered if her fears of the magic were irrational. She drove to the pizza place, and when they went in, she felt the safety of an ordered place without magic. The Italians too
k their orders for a small pizza. Two kids played Donkey Kong.

  “I’ve seen engineers become flat personalities, stereotypes,” Doug said. “I wondered if working in fields that were so rule-dominated made people less interesting characters.”

  “I’ve wondered if character didn’t come from the evil in people. If life is better, people aren’t so competitive.”

  “That machine is too noisy.”

  “More peaceful,” Maude said. “No jangling entities.” The waiter brought their pizza. Doug said, “It looks like real Italian pizza.”

  “It should be. They’re real Italians.”

  Doug lifted a slice and tasted it. He pulled away a bite, opened his lips, and breathed in heavily. “Hot,” he said. “It is real pizza.”

  The waiter said, “American style, actually.”

  Doug asked, “Do you have magic in Italy?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” the waiter said as he started back to the stainless steel pizza oven. “My father got me out of Palermo before I could talk.”

  The Donkey Kong machine bonged steadily. One of the boys playing it came over to their table and said, “My daddy is so happy about machines, he restored an old 1951 third-generation McCormick combine.”

  Doug didn’t say anything.

  “So, with the combines we lose some beauty,” Maude said.

  “No reapers singing as they scythe the grain,” Doug mused. “No harvest home celebrations.”

  “My daddy used to scythe the grain and he didn’t say nothing about no singing,” the boy said. He went to the counter for more quarters and returned to the Donkey Kong game.

  “Some computer programmer invented that. The programming took more work than most business programs. What a waste, to steal quarters from kids,” Doug said. “Do you think a man could be happier restoring combines than he’d be working with his body in unpolluted countryside?”

  “Yes,” Maude said.

  Doug ate the pizza and then got up to pay for it. Maude decided she’d call Terry and see about getting them all together. She was curious how Terry would react to Doug’s talk about magic.

  John came to the door carrying a semiautomatic pistol in his left hand. The porch light bouncing off his glasses made him seem blind. His lower lip looked glossy. Terry came up behind him and said, “We saw a Cadillac with a Richmond sticker yesterday. John’s worried.”