Fool's Journey

by Comstock, Mary Chase

  Manny touched her shoulder and pointed through the bare branches. “See in the sky—there’s Venus. The evening star. Make your wish.”

  Above the horizon the star shone bright, competing with the fading sunset. Make a wish? Or make a wish come true? Everything seemed possible, even an antidote for tears.

  She took a deep breath and wished. A bird sang out, but no angry fate swooped down to punish her for her temerity. She looked at Manny. His eyes caressed her own, warm and unwavering. Before fear and reason could intrude, she wrapped her arms around Manny’s neck and kissed him.

  “Now,” she whispered, “everything’s different.”

  Manny folded Deirdre into his embrace, still disbelieving. She trembled in his arms a little, but seemed to grow calmer as he held her.

  “Say more about your wish,” she whispered.

  “My wish?” he asked, forgetting for a moment the stray conversation that had led them down this path.

  “Yes. You said you wished that everything were different.”

  “Well,” he smiled, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Not everything. You, for instance.”

  She pulled away a fraction. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Look at today,“ he said. “All the happiness you brought. Those kids have never had a day like today. I’ve never had a day like today.”

  “Money made today possible,” she whispered. "It was nothing to do with me."

  “Damn it, Deirdre!” He gripped her by the shoulders and looked into her face. “To hell with the money. It wasn’t money – it was your goodness.”

  “You don’t know me at all. I’m not good.”

  Frustrated, he dropped his hands and stepped away. “You may have heard that from the time you were a kid, but consider the source. Did your father ever say anything else you respected?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not what he said—it’s what he did. He took everything from me, everything. I don’t even know if I have a soul, Manny.”

  He put his arms around her again and simply held her. For him, this was heaven enough, but he wanted to free her too. He wracked his brain for something to say or do to help her, but nothing came to mind.

  “Then tell me what’s in your heart, Deirdre. How can I help you?”

  She looked away. “I want you to make love to me.”

  From the kitchen window, Rosa had seen the pair fall into the embrace she had known was coming. A mist of stars formed around their heads from the moment they walked toward the door.

  She went to the telephone and dialed a number, then said a few words in Spanish. She hung up, untied the strings of her apron, and called to the children, “¡Ana! ¡Marco! Vamos a las películas.”

  Movies! In a heartbeat they appeared, their eyes sparkling. “¡Las películas! ¿Cuál?”

  She picked up the newspaper and opened to the movie section, as the children hopped up and down exclaiming and pointing to various entries. She ignored their clamoring for movies far too old for them, and scanned for Disney releases or animal stories. They had seen enough reality in their short lives to keep them safe from the dangers of too much fantasy.

  When Manny and Deirdre came back into the house, eyes studiously trained on the basket of vegetables they brought with them, she was already buttoning up the children’s coats.

  “What’s up?” Manny asked.

  “I just talked to Carlito,” she said. “He invited us to go to a movie with him. You and Deirdre can come along too, if you want. It’s a movie about a dog that goes to school.”

  He glanced quickly at Deirdre. “I think we might want to pass, but thanks for asking.”

  “We have to run,” she told them, shooing the children towards the door. “We’ll get dinner on the way.”

  Deirdre opened her purse and handed a bill to each of the children. “Popcorn money,” she said, smiling.

  “Looks more like tuition,” Mrs. Ruiz commented dryly. “Ana! Marco! ¿Qué dice usted? ”

  “Gracias,” they whispered, eyes wide, holding the money as if it would fly away if they blinked.

  From outside came the honk of a car’s horn.

  “We got to go,” she said, pushing the children from the room. “See you later.”

  XXXI.

  Deirdre hadn’t been able to read the look in Manny's eyes when he had taken her hand and had led her to the bedroom. She’d only stolen a fleeting glance, afraid to look at him too closely or for too long, for fear she’d see hesitation or reluctance.

  He shut the door, but didn’t say anything, just came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She could feel the heat of his breath on her neck before his lips even touched. With the kiss came the sizzle of electricity—and then the fear.

  Her old fear of being caught, of being bad, was with her again. She felt the tears form in her eyes. How could she be such a coward?

  “You’re shaking, Deirdre,” Manny said. He turned her around to face him as two huge tears overflowed and ran down her face.

  She wiped them away quickly and tried to smile. “I feel so stupid.”

  “Deirdre, Deirdre . . .” He shook his head at her. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”

  He led her to the bed where she had slept so peacefully the night before. They sat there together, backs against the bedstead. Deirdre pulled up her knees and hugged them to her chest.

  Manny tugged at the comforter folded at the foot of the bed and arranged it around their shoulders. “Better?”

  She nodded. “I don’t really know what to do next, though.”

  He wanted nothing more than to make love to her, but it was too soon. That was clear. “Don’t worry so much. Making love doesn’t always mean sex, you know.”

  “I thought that was only true in 19th century novels,” she said softy.

  “Maybe that makes us time travelers.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward him. “Deirdre, there are some things I want to tell you.”

  Deirdre turned to face him, her eyes wide, still sparkling from tears. She had stopped shaking, though, and that was good.

  “I think you’re afraid of many things, but I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not, Manny, truly.”

  He tried to find the words he wanted: You are very dear to me, Deirdre. I’m very fond of you. I carry you in my heart. True, but not true enough.

  “I love you, Deirdre.”

  He felt her relax against him and release a ragged sigh. Relief flooded him, and he knew that these were the right words, the words that had been lodged in his throat all day, making him crazy.

  “I had a crush on you before I ever met you. You were my ideal. I read your poetry. When my aunt talked about you, I had to hold myself back from quizzing her. Guys don’t like to let on when they’re stuck on someone, you know. Then I met you, Deirdre. You’re all I want. You’re all I think of.”

  “Here I was, afraid you’d think I was using you for sex.”

  He laughed. “You don’t know very much about men, do you? I’ll try not to fit the stereotype.”

  As he held her, he waited for her to say more. He hadn’t expected that she would blurt out a similar confession of love, but he wanted to know something of what she was thinking. Silence hung in the air between them until she said, “I need to go outside again, I want to pick some more rosemary.”

  He released her regretfully and followed her through the house. He kept his distance, standing in the kitchen doorway watching, as she stepped into the garden and made her way carefully through the dry, cold grass. It was very dark now. The shuddering of dry leaves rattled in the night.

  Deirdre found the rosemary bush by scent. Eventually, her eyes adjusted to the light and she was able to make out its shape and pale color against the rest of the night. She wanted to gather enough branches to make herself a pillow and sleep in its scent, the green needles pricking softly at her head and cheeks. Or build a bonfire and throw the branch
es on one by one. There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Today proved that anything could happen, so perhaps memories could be burned away. But would the ashes catch the wind and come right back to her?

  She looked at Manny, framed in the golden light of the doorway. If only he could be her future. The university seemed a cold and hollow place now that she'd spent a day where warmth and kindness counted. She'd experienced something like this feeling of utter contentment when she read her favorite books, but had always been certain that such a life could never be hers.

  Manny had said he loved her. But he didn’t know her, didn’t know the hateful memories that curled like vipers around her heart. She wasn’t even sure if she was capable of returning love pure enough to be worthy of his.

  She was so tired. She hadn’t known how tired she was. She wanted nothing more than to go to the lighted doorway and forget the trials the darkness held.

  She remembered, though, the passage she had read days ago about the tarot, the words that addressed the Fool’s Journey: Do not forget that we have been sent here to learn. We cannot accomplish that goal in a state of comfort. Only by facing fear, and doing battle with it, do we advance.

  The past had made a coward of her.

  “I need to go home, Manny,” she said as she stepped toward him. “I’ll get my things if you’ll call a cab for me.”

  He felt his heart fall to his stomach. “You don’t have to call a cab. I’ll take you home.”

  She shook her head. “If I let you go with me, I know I won’t go in. And I have to.”

  He opened the screen door and stepped out into the night with her. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

  She took his hand. “Nothing has ever been this right before. I don’t want to turn this—” She stopped, searching for the right word. She gripped his hand tighter and looked up into his eyes. “I don’t want to turn this start into an escape.”

  He cocked his head at her. “And leaving by yourself isn’t escaping?”

  “I can see why you might think so. But do you want to know what my deep dark escape fantasy really is? It’s never going back to my life again, not to my apartment, not to the university. I want to stay here and dress in your t-shirts and old jeans, curl up on your bed and watch you study for the bar exam. I want to take those children trick-or-treating. I want your aunt to give me sweet sleepy time tea, and tuck you and me in together for the night. How’s that for sexy?”

  “Sounds pretty sexy to me, but I’m an old-fashioned boy.”

  “I have fears to face, or they'll never go away. Do you see why I have to leave?”

  He tilted her chin up so that she was looking him in the eyes. “No,” he said, “but I believe it’s important to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re not taking a cab, though. I’m driving. I promise you I won’t try to talk you out of your decision.”

  XXXII.

  Driving away from Deirdre’s apartment, Manny watched the lights of the neighborhoods flicker by again, like a film running in reverse. His heart had grown heavy as he’d checked each room of her apartment and tested the windows and doors. She’d huddled into a corner of the sofa, while he completed his search. When he was done, she simply followed him to the door, and gave him a whisper of a kiss. Nothing more.

  He had tested the deadbolt. It was a good one. There was no reason he should feel uneasy about her safety there, but as he heard the bolt slide home with a leaden click, panic spiraled in his gut. Words formed clearly in his brain: I will never see her again.

  He didn’t head for home immediately, but instead drove aimlessly up and down the streets surrounding the campus where she taught, as if some trace of her presence might linger there for him to protect. As he drove past the university, he saw that the lights were on throughout the English Department. The custodial staff had begun its nightly foray into the academic jungle.

  When a siren whined somewhere behind him, Manny veered to the edge of the road to let a patrol car pass. A moment later, another sped by.

  Easing the car back onto the street, he turned onto campus. “Let’s see what’s up,” he muttered. He followed the flashing lights through the tree-lined lanes until he reached the narrow access road that led onto the campus green. There, the officer pulled his patrol car across the entrance, blocking the way.

  Manny parked the car and peered out over the top of the steering wheel. An older man holding a shuddering poodle stood watching from the sidewalk. Manny swung his door open and went over to join him. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Must be busting another frat party,” the old man said. “Trixie and me, we drive up here every night and take a walk on the campus—lots of trees for piddling—and you wouldn’t believe the goings on. These are the future leaders of our country, these college boys. They don’t know ‘come ‘ere’ from ‘sick'em.’” He shook his head. “And these professors they got. You know, they don’t work every day. From what I hear, they get paid full price, top dollar, to show up two, maybe three times a week. Good work if you can get it.”

  An ambulance arrived and the patrol car backed up to let it pass.

  “Must be a hell of a night on campus. I got a police dispatcher in my car–” The man nodded in the direction of an old Buick. “Got it for my birthday last year. Hey, Trixie, let’s go have a listen. Come along if ya like,” he said to Manny. “Never know what you might hear.”

  Manny followed him to his car and leaned inside. The air snapped with static as the little black box was flipped on and muffled voices filled the air.

  All available units in vicinity of Northwest University respond Code 10.

  All the lights were on at the English Department, Manny remembered. Looking over again, he could see beams of light playing up and down the building’s façade.

  “Pretty good stuff,” the old man chortled. “Wish the wife was here–she’d get a kick out of this. She loves those cop shows.”

  “Right,” Manny said automatically. Although the streets leading onto campus were all blocked now, he could see students walking in groups of two and three, headed in the direction of the campus green. Crowd control wouldn’t be easy. If he was going to get a closer look, it had better be now.

  Saying goodnight to the man, he cut diagonally through the trees, making a beeline for the English Department. There, two officers stood in front, instructing the gathering crowd to stand back, while another pair circled around the back. One of them looked familiar.

  “Is that you, Malone?” he called. The officers spun around and trained their flashlights on him. “It’s me, Manny Ruiz.”

  “It’s okay, Mike,” one of them said. “I know this guy from that night class at the law school last year.”

  “What’s up?” Manny asked.

  “Got a call about fifteen minutes ago. Said there’d been a homicide in the English department, but everything’s locked up here. Could a been a prank, but we’ve gotta check things out. Still waiting for campus security to get here to unlock the doors.”

  “Aren’t you gonna bust ‘em down?” Two students had appeared from the trees and were standing with their arms folded, watching the proceedings.

  “You kids step back,” the other officer barked. “You see anything, you report it to the officers in front.”

  “You don’t need to wait for a key,” one of the kids offered. “If you have a credit card, you can just slip the lock.”

  Malone sighed. “Sounds like you’ve got experience.”

  “Just need to deliver late papers once in awhile.”

  “Yeah? Well clear out. Bud,” he said to his partner, ”you take them ‘round front and make sure they don’t drag their cleats through the evidence.”

  Malone watched while the trio disappeared around the corner. “What are you doing on campus, Ruiz? You don’t have enough to do for your regular classes?”

  “My girlfriend works in this building. She asked me to drop by and grab some papers she’d forgotten
.”

  “You know the layout of the building?”

  Manny nodded and the officer fished a credit card out of his wallet.

  “I know this isn’t usual procedure, but if someone’s dying up there, I don’t want to take the heat.”

  “You won’t hear any complaints from me,” Manny said.

  A simple flick of the card between the door and its frame triggered the lock, and they opened the door.

  “Mustn’t have much to steal,” Malone remarked.

  “The classics aren’t in as much demand as they used to be.”

  “Don’t touch anything,” the officer cautioned.

  “I’ve seen Dragnet.”

  “Right.”

  Manny led the way up the back stairs and headed in the direction of Deirdre’s office. He didn’t know what he thought he was going to find there, but instinct tugged on his lead and he followed it.

  As they rounded the corner, he wasn’t surprised to see that the door to Freemont Willard’s office stood wide open. A cold breeze whipped down the hall with them, carrying a few dry leaves in its path. Malone pushed his way in front of him and stepped quietly down the hall, weapon drawn. Manny could already smell powder and the coppery sweetness of blood. He sensed there would be no need for Malone’s revolver.

  “Shit! Take a look at this.”

  Manny came up behind him. Sure enough, Freemont Willard sat in his chair, just as he had a few nights ago, but his head was thrown back and two bullet wounds gaped from his chest and another had left a crimson stain in his crotch.

  The window behind the body was propped wide open with a thick poetry anthology. Someone wanted to make sure the soul left the building.

  “You know him?”

  “Professor Freemont Willard,” Manny said. In death, Willard’s skin had collapsed in gray folds. Stepping closer, he could see that the corpse’s eyelids were held shut with cellophane tape. The desk before him was clear of all paper – odd, especially if he had been here working.

  Thank God Deirdre had been busy with Manny all day. She wouldn’t be dragged into this. Maybe she could relax. Maybe everything would be better now.