by Steve Cash
“What is her name, Z?” she asked.
“Opari,” I said, after pausing only a moment.
“That is a beautiful name.”
I turned and looked at Carolina. She was standing with the light behind her and her eyes were in shadow.
“Did you leave her to come to me?”
“Yes and no.”
“If I have caused you pain in any way, I couldn’t—”
“You have not,” I interrupted. I took her hand in mine and moved to where I could see her eyes. There was a single tear sliding down her cheek over her freckles.
“Will you tell me more about her?” she asked.
“Yes, I promise.”
“Good,” she said. “Let’s get some rest.”
After a long overdue and dreamless sleep, I was awakened to Star’s birthday by Star herself. She was leaning on my bed, shaking my knee, and saying, “ZeeZee, wake up! ZeeZee, come on! ZeeZee, we ride the Fierce Whale, we ride the Fierce Whale.”
It took me a minute to figure out she meant “Ferris Wheel, Ferris Wheel,” and then I remembered our plans for the World’s Fair.
Everything moved quickly. We had a hearty breakfast in the kitchen of the big house, then all gathered under the stone arch at the top of the driveway. At first, we debated whether to walk to the Fair or not, thinking of Solomon, but he would have none of that, and away we went. There were six in our party: Solomon and I took up the rear; Li and Carolina walked in front of us, and leading the whole pack were Star and Ciela, the second youngest of Carolina’s “ladies” and the most trusted. She was of Cuban descent and still had a trace of an accent. Star seemed to treat her like a sister and she was along to celebrate, as well as babysit, if Star got tired or sleepy.
Carolina and Ciela both carried parasols, and by the time we approached the main entrance near De Baliviere and Lindell, both were unfurled. The sun was already high in the sky and the day was hot and getting hotter.
We entered with a swarm of people, tens of thousands, and started up the main avenue, the Plaza of St. Louis. Solomon was right. The sheer size and magnificence of the fairgrounds and buildings took your breath away. As we walked, we passed a statue of Hernando de Soto, who discovered the “Father of Waters” while in search of the Fountain of Youth. I couldn’t help but think of Geaxi and what she had told me once about De Soto. She said he was a fool who would probably have mistaken a horse trough for the Fountain of Youth.
On we went to Festival Hall, which Carolina insisted we see. Along the way, we passed lagoons with people in motorboats and gondolas, some shaped like Cleopatra’s barge and some like swans’ and serpents’ necks. Other people rode in roller chairs and zebu carriages, in Irish jaunting cars and all kinds of oriental contraptions. There was also a scaled-down train on the fairgrounds itself, carrying people from point to point.
We stopped to watch the Cascades, a series of fountains and waterfalls, which tumbled down the hill into the lagoon. Star almost jumped in, but was restrained by Li.
Solomon took us through the Palace of Mines and Metallurgy, where there were workers actually mining coal in a full-size coal mine. There was also an oil well, again full-size and working. The women were more impressed by the huge obelisks guarding the entrance.
Next, he guided us through a tour of the Palace of Electricity and everyone was astounded that, from here, St. Louis could communicate by wireless with Chicago, Springfield, and Kansas City. Solomon leaned over to me and said, “Zis is where the big money will be in zis century, Zianno. Communications.” Then he winked and whispered, “Perhaps the ‘Children of the Mountains’ should become experts, eh?”
Carolina took us to our next stop, the French Pavilion. It was a reproduction of the Grand Trianon at Versailles and set in a fifteen-acre garden. It was rich and luxurious and surrounded by espalier trees, which I’m sure no one in St. Louis had seen before. Inside, there were expensive tapestries and elegant furniture. At the end of one long hall and next to the twenty-foot draperies around a huge window, Carolina nodded toward a spot against the wall. No one understood, but I got her meaning — that was where she had seen the Fleur-du-Mal.
After touring the Palace of Machinery and the Palace of Liberal Arts, Star wanted a boat ride. We boarded one of the gondolas and cruised through the lagoons and canals, cooling off and listening to the gondolier serenade us with Italian songs.
We disembarked and Solomon declared it was time for lunch. We stopped at the Falstaff Inn, a two-story structure with flags waving on top and tables and chairs outside under an awning. We sat outside and didn’t order off the menu. Instead, Solomon sent Li to purchase two of his favorite foods that had been introduced at the Fair for the first time, hot dogs and ice-cream cones. A few minutes later, we were all toasting Star’s birthday with a hot dog in one hand and an ice-cream cone in the other. Star giggled and dribbled and gave Solomon a hug and a kiss that left traces of mustard and chocolate in his white beard. Even Li liked the ice cream and grunted as it melted and ran down his stone face.
Within moments of finishing her ice cream, Star was tugging on Carolina and saying, “Fierce Whale, Mommy, let’s ride the Fierce Whale.”
Solomon interjected and announced that our appointment for our private ride was at four o’clock sharp. Our appointment for our private tour of Jerusalem was at three-thirty and, therefore, we could not dawdle. “The Fierce Whale at four,” he said, “and Jerusalem at three-thirty, but first — the Pike.”
The Pike was easily the most crowded area of the Fair and the most fun. It was one long, wide boulevard with everything you could imagine from “Blarney Castle” and the “Tyrolean Alps” to the “Battle of Santiago” and the “Galveston Flood.” The Pike was a living color picture of the world. Architecture, scenery, concessions. Anything, everything. We even saw a statue of Teddy Roosevelt made of butter and a bear made of prunes. We wandered in and out of everywhere, but Star loved Hagenbeck’s Animal Circus best. There she got to see animals she’d only seen in books, roaming at large inside a huge compound. Except perhaps in her dreams, it was the closest she’d ever been to elephants and tigers. Solomon was as fascinated as Star, or perhaps because of her, and had to be reminded by Carolina that three-thirty was approaching.
We hurried down the Pike and reached the gates of Jerusalem just in time. A dark, heavyset man who seemed to know Solomon greeted us and escorted our entire party inside and to a tent where six camels stood saddled and in a line, one behind the other. We were introduced to our guide, who wore a long robe and turban, despite the heat. We were each given a robe and turban to wear and told, “Believe it or not, you will be cooler.” The women were asked to wear veils, even Star, and we all looked very mysterious as our caravan set out through Jerusalem. Our guide was in front, followed by Ciela, Carolina with Star in her lap, Solomon, myself, and Li as a sort of caboose. The camels were each attended by two boys, one in front with the reins and one by the saddle for assistance. The camels snorted and baulked at first, but then fell into their lazy, awkward gait. Carolina and Star were laughing hysterically and Solomon looked like a long-lost Arab prince returning home.
Jerusalem was one of the largest exhibits of the Fair and the most labyrinthine. Streets led into streets that led back into themselves. Every passage was narrow and claustrophobic with people and dust. Dogs barked and merchants shouted in foreign languages. It was dreamlike, exotic, and felt, as Solomon said, “more real than it ever was.”
After several minutes, maybe ten, maybe twenty, we came to a particularly tight and congested corner. The camel boys slowed the camels, but it was too late. A man had tumbled out of an open doorway into the street and surprised our guide and the lead camel. The camel stopped abruptly and kicked the camel boy behind, who screamed and fell, spooking Ciela’s camel into a spin and tangling legs with Carolina’s camel, which lost its balance and fell sideways, throwing Carolina and Star into the crowd.
Just in front of me, Solomon tried to get down from
his camel, but the crowd pushed against him, locking him in his saddle. I had to get closer. I turned around and waved to Li and the both of us leaped into the chaos and, with Li as a battering ram, made our way to Solomon. I yelled up at him, “Can you see anything?”
“Yes, I can see Carolina,” he said. “She is standing. She is all right, but confused, a little dazed, I think. But. but. ” He was straining forward in his saddle, looking left and right, frantically. “I can’t see Star, Z. I can’t see Star!”
Li and I pushed forward, finally making it to Carolina, who had lost her robe, turban, and veil. She was shaken, but coming to her senses. People speaking in Arabic were dusting her off and feeling her limbs, making sure nothing was broken.
“I’m fine. Thank you. Enough of that, thank you,” she was telling them. Just then, she saw Li. “Find Star,” she yelled, “find Star, Li!”
I got to her a moment later. “Are you all right?” I had almost to yell myself.
She reached out for my hand. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, just scared. Where’s Solomon?”
“He’s all right. He’s stuck back on his camel.”
“Good,” she said. “Let’s find Star, Z.”
The camels had been secured and the panic of the crowd had dissipated. Shouts passed back and forth between our guide and two other men about who was to blame. Up ahead, there was a circle of people gathered around a doorway. Li was on the outside of the ring, waving to us. We ran toward him. He nodded at the circle and Carolina pulled at people’s arms and shoulders, yelling, “Out of the way!”
In the middle of the circle, sitting on the stoop of the doorway, Ciela was holding a trembling child, wearing a robe, turban, and veil with her head buried in Ciela’s chest.
“Is she all right?” Carolina asked in a kind of strained whisper.
Ciela nodded, but didn’t speak. She held the child close, rocking back and forth, and softly saying, “Shh, shh.”
We stood in silence, catching our breath, which was difficult. Dust was everywhere, kicked up during the melee, and the camel boys were still trying to calm the animals. I looked back for Solomon, and just as I saw his familiar white head above the crowd, I caught sight of something else familiar, a movement between the camels, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. Then Solomon broke through and took charge.
“Is everyone in one piece?” he asked Carolina.
“Yes, thank God,” she said. “We could have been thrown anywhere.”
“Is Star unhurt?” He bent down and patted the child, who still clung to Ciela for dear life. “Star, honey,” he said in his softest voice, “are you all right?”
She nodded, but kept her face pressed against Ciela’s chest. Solomon stood up and looked around angrily for our guide, who had disappeared. “I shall sue them for zis,” he said, then he helped Ciela to her feet. He and Carolina put their arms around her. “Come,” he said, “if everyone is up to it, we go ride the Ferris Wheel. I guarantee in five minutes, Star will forget zis ever happened.”
After several wrong turns, we eventually found our way out of Jerusalem and through the Japanese Gardens, just in time to make our prearranged ride on the Ferris Wheel. We were still flustered as we approached it. I could barely comprehend the sheer size of it. It was over two hundred and sixty feet high, had thirty-six cars that were almost thirty feet long and over twelve feet wide, an axle one hundred and forty feet above ground, and steel rods extending in pairs to the rim all around. To me, it looked like a giant, spinning spiderweb.
We walked up the platform and the doors to our car were opened. There were glass walls on all sides so the entire fairgrounds could be observed as the wheel turned in its great orbit.
After all the cars were loaded, the ride consisted of four revolutions. On our first revolution, we all stood in silence and gazed down on the Fair and Forest Park from a new perspective. At the top of the arc of our second revolution, Carolina, who had been standing next to Ciela, leaned over to kiss Star, pulling the veil away.
She jumped back, spinning and hitting her back against the glass wall. “That’s not Star!” she shrieked.
Ciela tore off the turban of the girl she was holding and Solomon looked at Carolina, turning as white as his beard. “What did you say?” he asked.
My own throat went dry and I felt the old feeling of the net descending. We all looked at the child, who was staring back at us blankly. She was blond and female, but clearly not Star.
I went to the glass wall that looked out over where we’d been, over Jerusalem. Two hundred and sixty feet below me and boarding the small train that ran through the Fair, with Star frozen against him, paralyzed in fear, was the Fleur-du-Mal. He wore the same robe as one of the camel boys, but had taken off the turban. I could barely see the green ribbon at the back of his head. He turned and looked up at the Ferris Wheel and grinned. Even from that distance, his teeth were a brilliant white.
Solomon saw where I was staring and looked down. He found her immediately. He ran to the glass, pounding his fists on it, trying to break it, and screaming, “No! No! Zis cannot be!”
The big wheel wouldn’t turn fast enough for him. He kept pounding and screaming as we made our descent. What was probably two minutes seemed like two hours. Before we got to the platform, he turned bright red and began to cough violently. Li and I tried to reach for him, but he slid down the glass wall and sprawled on the floor. He went into a seizure and his chest heaved in spasms. Carolina knelt down and loosened his shirt, but he started to lose color and his breathing stopped completely.
Finally, we got to the bottom of the arc and Li rushed out onto the platform to find water. I looked around at the crowd and asked if there was a doctor among them. There wasn’t. Carolina shouted out that he’d started breathing again, but just barely. Then, two of the Jefferson Guard appeared and called to a third to find a stretcher. They were policing the Fair and I wondered for a moment if I should mention Star. Carolina must have thought the same thing, because she looked out at me, then quickly shook her head.
Li came back at the same time as the stretcher arrived. He sprinkled water on Solomon’s face as we lifted him onto the stretcher and into the shade of the Falstaff Inn, a hundred yards away. His breathing was shallow and uneven and he drifted in and out of consciousness. Carolina decided we should get him home as soon as possible and have her doctor meet us there. A carriage was located and we were transported through the main entrance, with an escort of ringing bells to clear the way, and on to Carolina’s, where she had him moved upstairs to the carriage house. She opened the windows wide on all sides and made sure there was a breeze getting to her sofa, where Solomon lay on his back. She propped his head up and, when he was conscious, tried to help him sip water. She didn’t mention Star once, nor did anyone else. I looked at her eyes. They were as glassy as if she had taken strychnine. She was in shock, but somehow managing to go on, to function.
Time passed and the doctor failed to arrive as he was supposed to. The room was hot and the air was thick with the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Ciela was becoming more and more frantic and overwhelmed with worry and finally snapped, running down the stairs and crying uncontrollably. Li sat in the corner of the room, as always, but once I saw his hands tremble slightly. I walked out onto the balcony and, for some reason, screamed as loudly as I could at the setting sun. It was my kind that had done this. It was my kind that was poisoning the lives of the two people I loved the most. It was not just the Fleur-du-Mal who was an “aberration.” We, the Meq, were all an aberration, a mistake, a flaw that would eventually act as a virus and destroy the whole grain, the “natural” beauty, the way things should have been without us, alive and undisturbed.
We waited. Each of us sat and waited. Darkness fell above and below and Carolina lit candles inside. The doctor never came.
Solomon awoke around midnight, just enough to open his eyes and call for me. I sat on the floor next to him.
“Zianno, come close now,” he said. I leaned over so
that his voice was in my ear. “On my way through the Milky Way, I will leave a trail. Will you be able to find it, Zianno?”
“I couldn’t miss it. You are an excellent pathfinder, old friend.”
“Then I shall do it,” he said and took a quick, shallow breath. “Yes. that is it, Z. zis is good. zis is good business.”
We shut his eyes for him. He simply left. I looked at Carolina and she was tearless. Sad, broken, and tearless. Li got up slowly, walked out of the door and down the stairs. A few minutes later, I thought I heard the door to his small apartment open and close. After several more minutes, I made Carolina stand up and I took her to her room. I gently helped her lie down and said, “Tomorrow we find Star.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know we will,” but she was numb, inside and out.
I closed her door, put a blanket over Solomon, and walked out onto the balcony, overlooking the “Honeycircle.” I breathed in the thick, oversweet scent. I wanted more of it. Without thinking, I leaped over the railing and dropped twelve feet, crashing into the edge of a honeysuckle bush and rolling in the grass.
Somewhere in the darkness, somewhere inside the “Honeycircle,” a voice said, “Careful now, you could hurt yourself doing that.”
I felt the net descending for certain. It was him. I got to my knees, then stood up.
“Bonsoir, Zezen.”
I turned. He was standing in the opening. His silhouette was black against black. His teeth sparkled white.
“Why have you done this?” I asked. “You already killed her sister.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, moving slightly to his left. “I realized that when I saw her, quite by accident, a few months ago. I immediately thought of our last visit, brief though it was. I believe your words were, ‘She’s not the one you want,’ or words to that effect. I could not resist the chance to right a wrong, so to speak. Do you see my point, mon petit?”