by Martha Faë
“That one won’t stop looking at you,” said Marion. I remember it perfectly.
I turned my head and found myself looking straight into Axel’s steady eyes. From there everything happened very quickly. There was an outburst of laughter, all of us elbowing one other, bets on who would go talk to them. It wasn’t easy, since they looked older. All of us grinning at each other, Laura keeping her hormones on lockdown, swearing that she would die of embarrassment before she would say a single word to those boys, Marion blushing like she was seven years old. It was just that—my friends’ reactions—that spurred me on. I hadn’t even had anything to drink. We had only gotten to the bar a few minutes earlier. I got up and strutted over to the bar, right past the boys. Even now I can’t believe it was me. Just thinking about it still embarrasses me, but it was worth it to see the looks on Laura’s and Marion’s faces—their jaws dropped, literally. As I walked I wondered what lie I was going to tell the bartender, how I was going to convince him that I was legal, that I’d just left my license at home. I leaned on the bar with all the confidence I could muster. The bartender looked at me once or twice and then flat-out ignored me. Then I felt a nudge—it was Axel standing next to me. He winked. He moved his hands beneath the bar, first close together, then far apart. I understood right away that he was asking if I wanted a pint or a half-pint. And something possessed me—I was possessed, I’m sure of it, since never in my wildest dreams could I have been so smooth. I took his hands and paused, without letting go of them or taking my eyes off of his, and then moved his hands apart, still looking right at him. Axel smiled. I think it was the first time I saw that smile. His hand moved toward my head. For a second I thought he was going to stroke my hair and I stood there paralyzed, but he didn’t. He just picked up a lock of my dark hair. He thought he was so clever. I shook my head. Then I did stroke his hair: golden blond. We didn’t say a word. I didn’t even care that his eyes were lingering on me, the only thing that mattered to me was scoring a point on my friends. I turned around and went back to the girls. They were hysterical. I looked over at the bar; I knew he was still watching me. I held up three fingers and sat back down at the table. A little later we had three pints of pale ale—golden blond—and we had Axel and his friends. Marion couldn’t stop giggling, and Laura, who in private always bragged about what a man-eater she was, was as serious and still as a statue. I don’t know if it was seeing her that way, or just because it was time to turn back into myself, but all at once my confidence vanished. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I heard Axel’s friends telling jokes, but I wasn’t really listening. All that mattered to me was trying to scoot over another millimeter every time Axel leaned closer to me. I kept on sliding over until I was practically on top of Marion. Then she exploded into giggles again and I was so startled I nearly slammed into the ceiling. I couldn’t even blink. I picked up my beer and drained it.
“Breathe!” said Axel.
I set the empty glass down on the table. With a bang, like in the movies. I’d downed the whole pint and now whatever happened, happened. I looked at the empty space Axel had left on the seat as he crept closer to me.
“Room for an elephant,” I said solemnly, pointing at the gap. I could feel my cheeks burning.
“Only a little one,” answered Axel.
That was the first time my smile appeared without my permission. Axel said my eyes sparkled.
“That intense sparkling green, like wet leaves after it rains.”
All I could say to that was ‘hic!’ I gave a little jump just as the whole table went quiet. I slapped my hand over my mouth and my hair fell across my face so all I could see was the tangle of black in front of my eyes. A few seconds passed and the whole group erupted into laughter. Even Laura emerged from her terrified silence and relaxed and began to laugh. My hiccups didn’t go away for the rest of the night. I tried holding my breath, drinking water without stopping. Someone shouted at me when I came back from the bathroom to try and scare me, but nothing would stop them. When it was time to go, the boys insisted that they had to behave like medieval knights, and although they had no noble steeds to carry us home on, they would at least walk with us. We sang our way through the streets of Old Town, at the top of our lungs, as if there were a prize at the end for the most off-key. We tried, without much success, not to stumble over the worn cobblestones. And the entire time Axel persevered, with that dogged stubbornness that is just so like him.
“Just one number,” he kept saying.
I gave up the digits of my cell phone number, one by one, over the course of the walk. When we reached my house the group moved away a little and left me alone with Axel. He kissed me on the cheek. I wrinkled up my nose and stuck the key in the lock with a furrowed brow.
I look at the sand. I’ve finished the drawing without even realizing it. Maybe Axel was right—I always draw solitary female figures, always with long hair. According to him they’re all a reflection of me. The sound of the waves has become softer, a gentle murmur in my ears, a low whispering broken here and there by the angry cries of the gulls. I wipe away the drawing with my hand. I feel lonely, but the rocking of the sea and the movement of my hand on the sand are comforting. Then I jump at the sudden sound of great wings flapping. I look up. The seagulls are too far off. The sound can’t be from their wings, but from some infinitely larger wings. I feel a presence behind me so clearly that I don’t dare move. I can feel someone’s gaze on the back of my neck. Then something hits me in the head, hard, and I collapse onto the sand.
When I open my eyes again I have no idea how much time has passed. I look for the gulls up in the sky. I hope to see whatever it was that hit me, but up above are only gray clouds. Clouds and absolute silence. I sit up, still aching, and look around. There’s a ball nestled in the sand quite close to me. I want to say it looks like a planet, but I’d better not even think that—that would really mean I had lost my mind. The object is only a few feet away, so I crawl over to it. It really does look like a planet... It’s official: I’ve gone completely nuts. I reach out and touch it. It’s a sort of round rock with a strange flower attached to it, and it’s full of craters. I have to use both hands to pick it up. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.
I stand up, cradling the object carefully to keep from squashing the flower. It’s so lovely, so strange, and it seems so fragile. I can’t look away from its petals. I bring my nose right up to it but I don’t smell anything. From touching it I would swear it’s natural; it couldn’t possibly be made of plastic. I hesitate, trying to decide whether to bring it home or leave it here. Leaving it here, at the mercy of whoever threw it at me, doesn’t seem sensible. It’s so beautiful and so fragile. Of course, to take it home with me... Well, I’d have to have a home to take it to, and besides, I already have enough problems of my own. I decide to take it to Beatrice. She’ll know how to protect it.
When I reach the gardens at St Mary’s I’m on the verge of turning around and leaving. I shouldn’t go back to that bunch of crazies, Beatrice included. Wooden people! Please. My arms ache; the thing is a lot heavier than it seemed at first. I look at the flower... Fine, I’ll just leave it at the door and go. I stop in front of Beatrice’s door. Dissie, when will you change? I don’t know whether to knock or to set the thing down on the ground. William and that imbecile Morgan are still there; I can hear their voices from out here. My temper is beginning to flare. Little by little. All at once. That’s just the thing to make me decide: they said they didn’t want to see me? Guess what—they’re gonna see me! As I climb the stairs I begin to reconsider. I hate the way I always chicken out! All right. Go in, leave the thing, and walk out—that’s the plan. Go in, leave it, walk out, don’t listen to a word. Anything they say will trip me up.
“I found this,” I say without preamble, shoving the living room door open with my foot.
“His majesty!” Beatrice goes pale and William touches her on the arm to quiet her.
Beatrice stood up when s
he saw me come in, but now she slumps back down into the armchair and buries her face in her hands. I think she’s crying.
“No, not his majesty, please. All-powerful Creator, why have you permitted this?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” I feel like I’m to blame for her pain. “I just thought you’d know how to take care of it.” I lift the object and offer it to Beatrice.
William comes over and takes it from my hands with remarkable gentleness. I shake out my stiff arms and watch as he sets the rock down on a table with the utmost care. Now Beatrice is really sobbing. The wild-haired girl and William look at one another.
“Have a seat, please...” William’s tone and the way he pauses tell me he doesn’t remember my name.
“Eurydice, my name is Eurydice.”
“Have a seat, Eurydice. Where did you take this from?”
“What have you done with his majesty?” bursts out Morgan.
“Just a second. I didn’t take it from anywhere, and I have no idea who you’re calling his majesty. I brought it to Beatrice, that’s all. I don’t have anything else to say.”
“It seems to me that you do.” William puts his arm around my shoulders in a friendly way and leads me over to an armchair, urging me to sit down. Morgan watches me with a blank and disapproving stare. “Some tea?” He picks up the teapot and pours me a cup, even though I didn’t say I wanted any. “We would love to know where you found this object.”
“Someone threw it at my head.”
Beatrice looks up. The grain of the wood shines through the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Do excuse me,” says William with great formality.
He goes over to Morgan and they whisper to each other, even arguing in hushed tones. I sit upright in my chair. I’m uncomfortable, but I won’t pretend that I’m not intrigued by how politely this snooty man is treating me all of a sudden.
“Miss Eurydice, may we call you that?” I nod. “Would you be so kind as to explain to us more about what happened? You say that someone hit you in the head with this object.”
“That’s right.”
“Did you see who hit you?”
Morgan’s tone has none of the friendliness, fake as it may be, of William’s voice. For a moment I’m tempted to get up and walk out with the thing—I found it, after all. That’s what I should do, leave and take it with me. I’m about to do it when I look over at Beatrice’s face. Her pleading expression changes my mind.
“Bice...” I murmur. “I can’t help.”
“Don’t you see? Did you hear what she called me?” Beatrice stands up urgently, desperate to convince the others. “She must be sent by the Creator, for only he calls me that—Bice.”
“I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t know why I called you that. I just want to go home. I can’t help you.”
I feel like I can’t help anyone. I’ve always admired people who can—but me? And in a world I don’t even understand, on top of everything.
“Of course you can help us, miss.”
William seems so certain that I have to stop and think. For a second I can almost believe I could do something to help these people. I look at Morgan. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t speak to me, for her I’m just another extra piece of furniture in the room. Anyway what I should really do is help myself—my problem is big enough already. I need to find a way to get back to normal.
“You’re the only one who has seen whoever it is that is disrupting the balance of the Sphere,” says William.
“I didn’t see anything. The thing hit me from behind. I was just sitting there thinking about some things when it hit me. Really, I should go home now, I have to leave... I...” I meet Beatrice’s worried gaze. “Okay, all right. I don’t think I can help you, but if you want to know, I did feel a presence. Eyes looking at me. I didn’t see anything, but I heard its wings.”
“The shadow!” exclaims Beatrice.
“A winged being!” whispers Morgan.
“The sound of the wings was very loud, it was definitely much bigger than a normal bird.”
“A being or beings,” says William. “Could it have been more than one pair of wings?”
I nod without conviction. The three of them are watching me as if I’d suddenly turned into an authority, into someone worthy of respect. Well, the three of them are watching me with interest, anyway. In Morgan’s case it’s mixed with scorn.
“I told you she was the answer to my prayers.”
“Leave your Creator out of this, Beatrice,” advises Morgan.
“But I’ve prayed so much...”
“Surely this young lady can give us the answers we’re looking for.”
Great. They hated me, I didn’t belong, they didn’t want to know anything about me but now, savior or not, answer to a prayer or not, it turns out I’m important. William is doing his best not to make me uncomfortable, but he can’t keep from bombarding me with questions. I can sense his anxiety. I think he’s afraid I’ll leave before I give up every last drop of information. Morgan walks to the other end of the room and turns her back on us. Something really messed up must be going on in this particular St Andrews for an incident as minor as what happened at the beach to be so important.
“No one knows anything,” says Morgan from the other side of the room.
“And that’s how it must stay,” adds William.
“What happened to you must not leave this room, for the good of the Sphereans,” says Beatrice, her kind voice filled with apprehension.
“Indeed,” says William, taking his pipe from his pocket. “You must give us your word that you will not speak of the incident, or of anything that we tell you now.”
I don’t say anything. I look at Morgan and she turns her face away. Then I look behind me. William and Beatrice want me to stay—they need me. It’s all so strange. The secrecy, the sudden interest. I look intently at these creatures, their wood, their nearly human feelings. I’m trying to decide whether I should stay with them for longer or not, but images of my life keep flashing before my eyes, blotting out my thoughts. I still feel like Beatrice is the only one who can help me get back to my reality. Only she can guide me, no one else. I can hardly help it when my ego, still wounded from everything that happened at the party, swells up a little. They need me.
7
“We shall trust in your good judgment, my beloved Beatrice,” says William.
He’s not fooling me. I can tell he’s only saying that out of desperation. He realizes that I care about Beatrice, and he wants to use her to draw me in. Who knows—maybe he could even read it in my face when I was thinking that only Beatrice can help me get back home.
“If Beatrice thinks that Eurydice is our savior, surely she will be,” William declares.
“I cannot believe this!” bursts out Morgan.
“Dearest Eurydice—may I call you that?” I nod. I really don’t care what he calls me. Nothing can erase the fact that talking with these wooden creatures is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. “Perhaps if we bring you up to date with everything we know, you could use that information to arrive at some conclusion.”
“Me?” I ask with surprise.
“Yes. It is quite likely that you could connect one clue to another, and find some relationship between what you heard on the beach and what is happening in the Sphere.”
“Thank you, dear William! Thank you for believing in the Creator...”
I can hear Morgan snort from across the room. She looks at Beatrice with such contempt that my blood runs cold.
“You see,” William takes my arm, inviting me to sit down beside him on the sofa. “It all started a couple of weeks ago. The first was Romeo.”
Romeo... So even here there are freaks who get their names from books. Well, at least it’s like my reality in one way. Maybe things aren’t so far from getting back to normal after all. Just have a little patience, Dissie.
“He was the first to disappear,” Bea
trice continues. “It was Mercutio who alerted us.”
I jump to my feet, so agitated I can barely form words.
“You know the twins? Have you seen them?” It could be—everybody knows them. Suddenly a ray of hope finds its way into my heart.
“The twins?” Beatrice seems confused.
The three wooden figures look at me, then at each other. William reaches up and pulls gently on my shoulder to get me to sit down again.
“I don’t know what twins you mean, my dear,” says Beatrice.
“Nothing has happened to any twins,” William assures me, and quickly continues: “Really, more than Mercutio, it was the tavern keepers who sounded the alarm.”
“But what does Mercutio have to do with any tavern keepers?” I ask, baffled.
“Mercutio had been going from bar to bar for days, drinking and drinking, dragging himself like a lost soul though the streets of the Sphere,” explains Beatrice.
“If that’s supposed to be a joke, I don’t think it’s very funny. I told you what I heard on the beach. Now you tell me where my brothers are.”
“I’m afraid it’s not a joke at all.” William clears his throat before going on. “Although Mercutio’s state of permanent inebriation wasn’t particularly surprising, his tears were. His role doesn’t call for moping about in the streets.”
Moping about in the streets? Role? They’ve got to be kidding. I get up, determined to walk out, but William invites me to sit down again—not so subtly this time. I look at Beatrice, expecting her to reprimand her friend for being rude, but instead she goes on talking like this is all totally normal.
“Mercutio is usually a happy man,” adds Beatrice, “he always has been.”
“A man... the only Mercutio I’m interested in is my brother. I have to find the twins. Beatrice, please tell me where I can find my family. What’s going on here? Why have they disappeared?”