by Rona Jaffe
Jay Jay was rather looking forward to Spring Vacation this year because his mother, when he phoned to tell her when he’d be home, informed him that she was going to Key West to decorate the house of a new client. She was all excited. Jay Jay didn’t dare ask her if she’d touched his room, and she didn’t say anything, but of course she never did. It would be fun to have the whole apartment to himself. He thought of inviting Kate and Daniel and Robbie to visit him, but the thought of having Kate and Daniel behaving like a honeymoon couple in his own apartment was too much; he’d have to be a masochist to inflict that on himself. Besides, his mother was always afraid his friends would scratch some of her precious furniture, or make cigarette burns or spill something, if they stayed over when she wasn’t there. It was tempting to invite them just to bug her, but the pleasure of upsetting her wasn’t worth the other thing. Anyhow, Kate was going to Daniel’s house. Meet the folks. Yuck.
Jay Jay mailed out fifty formal invitations. He would probably ask about a dozen other people when he ran into them—anyone who looked like a good addition to his life. Fifty was the perfect core number for a party.
“Do you need any decorations?” Perry asked him. “A nice pickled embryo?”
“I want them to have a good time, not get sick,” Jay Jay said.
They played the last game of the Winter Semester in the caverns on Saturday night. It was a particularly long session; they were all reluctant to leave things unfinished. But, of course, things were always left unfinished in the game … that was one of the things that was so good about it. You were always in suspense, wanting to go further.
April Fools’ Day was clear and not too cold. By the time the sun disappeared everyone was well into the planned evening of merrymaking in Jay Jay’s room and the hall. Jay Jay was wearing a red cashmere sweater, immaculately pressed jeans, and his World War I German helmet with the spike on top. Daniel and Robbie took turns as disc jockey. The music was loud, the guests were making rash promises they would later regret or forget, and Merlin’s raspy voice seemed to have the authority of a Greek chorus.
“I love you,” Perry said to Tina, whom he had just met.
“April fool!” Merlin said.
Tina laughed. She had metamorphosed into Kim Novak now, and was wearing a plain silk shirt and a tight skirt with a slit. Tiny pearls replaced the safety pins that used to be in her earlobes. Jay Jay decided he was definitely destined to become a starmaker.
“Kate,” Jay Jay demanded, “take pictures!” He had a beautiful twin on either side of him, and he thought he might send the photo in to The Grant Gazette. It was the sort of thing they liked: a record of happy college days. Kate ran to get her Polaroid camera, and Cindy and Lyndy smiled their dazzling smiles for publicity.
Jay Jay’s favorite joyful records were blaring from his stereo, a glass of his favorite white wine was in his hand, sexy women were making a fuss over him, and he was in charge of this entire event. He had made all these people happy, enlivened their lives, brought them another terrific evening they would talk about for weeks. He was the instigator, the leader. He felt wonderful. The great Jay Jay had done it again.
“April fool!” Merlin said.
A Greek chorus is more than a commentator on events or an indicator of splendid ironies. Sometimes it also foretells the future.
Often it warns.
CHAPTER 12
Robbie lay on his bed in the dark, listening to the party guests making noise downstairs, the music playing. Moonlight was shining in through his bedroom window. He was thirteen again, and he had gone upstairs to be alone for a while. None of the people down there were his friends, and he couldn’t connect with them at all. He was still dressed because he might want to go back to the party anyway, and he wondered if everyone would be so glad to see him back if he had run away.
He was the Robbie then and the Robbie now, waiting for Hall to come in. Part of it was like a dream, seeing the past and the future—knowing Hall would come in although it had not yet happened, feeling his throat close with the pain of tears because he knew what would happen, needing to see Hall. It was Hall’s sixteenth birthday party, April first, and soon he would come to say good-bye and then he would disappear. It hurt so much to know all of this that he couldn’t bear it.
Pardieu’s hand reached out again to touch the little pouch of spells he always wore tied to his belt. He took out The graven Eye of Timor that had the power to raise the dead, and he stroked it like a touchstone. Every indentation of it was familiar to his fingers so often had he felt it, waiting for the time that he could use it. He waited for The Great Hall, and then he appeared, slipping through the wall, standing all pale and shimmering in the moonlight.
“Now, Pardieu,” The Great Hall said. “You are worthy. You know how to find me.”
The tension flowed out of Pardieu’s body and he sighed with gratitude. “At last …” he whispered.
The Great Hall seemed to dissolve just as he stood there in Pardieu’s sight, but Pardieu was neither afraid nor sad because he knew that soon he would be with The Great Hall again, this time forever. He rose from his bed. He had his sword, his coins, and all of his charms, and he would use these and his wits to be safe from evil. He was worthy. He knew his mission. He would bring back The Great Hall and then everything would be right again.
He slipped out into the dark, away from all Humans and Sprites and other beings who wasted their time with frivolity, and walked along the road, heading east. The landscape was changing with the beginning of spring. Pardieu could smell the flowers under the ground, feel the dampness of the unborn green shoots, all of nature waiting to be reborn. He was a part of this now, and of all things unseen and unknown: the highest level of Holy Man after so long a time of waiting and trial … at last.
On a quiet weekday night nobody paid any attention to the clean-cut college student walking down the dark road in jeans and Windbreaker. He walked so steadily, with such an obvious sense of his destination, that anyone who saw him would simply not notice him at all.
PART FOUR:
THE MAZE
CHAPTER 1
The day after Jay Jay’s party everyone started to leave for home. Daniel and Kate went together on the train to stay with his parents. Jay Jay had planned to ride to New York with Robbie, in Robbie’s car, but Robbie’s door was open, his bed hadn’t been slept in, and his things were still there, so Jay Jay figured he had struck it lucky at the party and found love. If he was shacked up in another dorm who knew when he would decide to get his act together for going home? It might be tomorrow. Jay Jay didn’t plan to hang around this dreary campus till then. A couple of people had asked him at the party if he needed a ride to New York, so he put a note on Robbie’s bed and left with a congenial group who had plenty of room in their large car for him and Merlin. It was typical of Robbie, Jay Jay thought, not to bother to lock his door. He didn’t worry that someone might steal his stereo or records, or make long-distance calls on his phone. Not that a person who wanted to pick those flimsy dorm room locks couldn’t anyway, but you didn’t put temptation in the way of the greedy. Jay Jay had his own lock: a dead bolt. His insecurity probably came from having his mother redecorating his room all the time, but it also came from practicality. He owned a lot of expensive things.
On the drive to New York Jay Jay did something unusual for him—he took down the phone numbers of everyone in the car and gave them his. He said maybe he’d have a small cocktail party during the two-week vacation, and invite them. The euphoria of his successful April Fools’ Day party was still with him. He didn’t mention that he had no other friends in New York to invite.
He entered his apartment with the same mixed feelings he always had, but this time they were a little different. His mother wouldn’t be there, elusive and unloving, but on the other hand, if she had changed his room he wouldn’t have the outlet of yelling at her. His fists clenched. If she had touched his room he’d call her in Key West, embarrass her right in front o
f her client. That would fix her.
He drew a deep breath and went into his room. It was fabulous! He couldn’t believe it! She’d done it like a Sydney Greenstreet movie, complete with mosquito netting, a ceiling fan, and palm trees. His beloved old movie posters were on the sisal-covered walls. It was the tropics; glamorous and sleazy. There should be a bar down the street, with Rita Hayworth in it, or Ingrid Bergman, or spies and writers. And the nicest thing of all—almost a loving touch if he didn’t know his mother better—was a beautiful brass stand with a hook for him to hang up Merlin’s cage.
“I love it, I love it, I love it!” he sang. “Don’t you love it, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked in surprise.
“Hey, Merlin? What do you think? Should we write her a thank you note?”
“Birds can’t talk,” Merlin said.
He would definitely have to invite those people over for a drink, just to see this.
Kate got along with Daniel’s parents immediately, and knew they liked her too. She was crazy about his brother and future sister-in-law, and thought the only thing that was missing to make this a perfect family environment was a couple of animals like she had at home. She had never seen so many books in anyone’s house; they were even piled up on the floor. She was touched that Daniel’s mother had fixed up the guest room specially for her. It had formerly been his brother’s room. There were brand-new sheets, still stiff from just being taken out of the package and not laundered yet; new carpeting and towels in the bathroom, and a new shower curtain. There was even pretty guest soap and cologne. Daniel had rented bikes for them both, since he’d left his locked in their room at college (Kate thought of it as “their” room already, although hers was still hers), and she and Daniel rode into town where she bought a plant and candy and a bottle of wine for his parents. She would have bought them the world if she could afford it. They made it so obvious they were glad she was making their son happy.
His parents went out with their friends or visiting or to meetings quite a few evenings, and Kate and Daniel were able to be together for a while in Daniel’s bed. She wondered if his parents had any idea. She thought they did; they just didn’t want to be confronted with what was happening.
Kate loved his childhood room, filled with souvenirs and memories. She made him show her his yearbooks from high school, and pictures of when he was a little boy. She looked through his old, discarded records, and the books he’d loved as a child, and they compared tastes. All of these things had helped make him the person he was today, and she felt sentimental about them. She even loved the low mirror in his bathroom, picturing him when he was short.
They rode their bikes all over Brookline, and he showed her where he’d gone to school. He took her into Cambridge and Boston in his father’s car, and he showed her Harvard, where his father taught, and all the historic sights. They went to movies and out to eat with a lot of his old friends. It was probably the best vacation Kate had ever had in her life.
Daniel was worried his parents might say something to him about Kate not being Jewish. He knew his mother. Sure enough, one morning when Kate was upstairs taking a shower, his mother approached him, a cup of coffee in her hand, a nervous look on her face.
“I like Kate,” his mother said.
“I’m glad. She likes you too.”
“She’s not Jewish.”
“I know.”
“Do you think she might convert?”
“Convert? Mom, I just started going with her—we haven’t talked about getting married.”
“I know what will happen,” his mother said. “You’ll go with her for a couple of years, you’ll probably live together like your brother and Beth, and then you’ll get married. You won’t discuss religion. Then you’ll have children and what will they be?”
“Boys or girls,” Daniel said.
“Very funny. What about her parents? Do you think they’ll like you?”
He shrugged. “Kate says they’ll love me.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” his mother said.
“I don’t intend to.”
“I think it would be nice to have Jewish grandchildren,” his mother said. “Not half-and-half. Not let-them-decide-later. Not atheists. It’s important to me. They have to know who they are.”
“They’ll know,” Daniel said. He didn’t like having this discussion. The way he dealt with things was first things first, and there were so many things that had to happen before he and Kate even planned marriage that it was frightening to think of all of them at once. He was trying to plan the next couple of years, and his mother wanted him to arrange the lives of people who didn’t even exist yet. Why did her generation worry so much?
“I know the two of you never discussed it,” his mother said.
“No, we didn’t. We’re still getting to know each other.”
“That’s a good subject for getting to know each other,” his mother said. “Just ask her.”
Kate came downstairs then and saved him.
CHAPTER 2
Cat Wheeling felt right away that something was wrong when Robbie didn’t come home for Spring Vacation the day they were expecting him. The next day she was sure of it. She tried to keep from getting hysterical; telling herself that boys his age got caught up in their social life and forgot to make phone calls. But Robbie had always been a responsible person. She telephoned him at school, but the phone in his room rang and rang and no one ever answered. She thought of him in a car wreck somewhere on the highway and felt sick with fear.
His father started calling the hospitals. No eighteen-year-old student named Robert Wheeling had been admitted for any reason. Was there some hospital they had forgotten? But Robbie had identification, and someone would have called his family. If he hadn’t been taken to a hospital … if he were dead … the police would have called.
Cat drank steadily, to keep sane, and her husband looked at her with such hatred she wanted to throw the glass at him. “Can’t you even stay sober for this?” he said.
Her knuckles on the glass were white. “Call his friends,” she said.
“No wonder he doesn’t want to come home.”
“That was a vile thing to say to me. You are a disgusting man. Call them!” Her words came out with a hiss from behind clenched teeth. She would have called them herself, but she knew how drunk she would sound.
Hall sighed. “If Robbie were with a friend he’d phone us,” he said. “Robbie never just disappeared. He knew how much it meant to us to know he was safe.”
Neither of them said: Because he’s the only one we have now. But they were both thinking it. They could not believe it could happen all over again. It would be too unbearable.
“What about his friends from school?” Cat said. “What if he decided to visit one of them?”
“He’d have called. Besides, we don’t know who his friends at school are.”
No, they didn’t. Not even a first name. He’d always said school was fine, his classes were interesting, he was still swimming on the team. But no names, no anecdotes. How could they know, when no one ever had a real conversation with him? Robbie was so well adjusted, so polite and helpful and nice. He always wanted to know what he could do for you. It was as if he were trying to deflect attention from himself and keep his secrets. Could that be possible? Robbie with secrets?
“Robbie never took drugs,” she said.
“No.”
“He was happy,” she said. “Wasn’t he?”
“Happy?”
“Wasn’t he happy? Did he seem unhappy to you?”
“No, he … he … seemed fine.”
“He wouldn’t,” she said. “Would he?”
“Wouldn’t what?”
“You know.”
“Run away? You think Robbie would run away?”
No, not Robbie. Never. Cat poured herself another glass of vodka, spilling some. For once Hall didn’t say anything about it, and she wanted to give him something in return,
some gesture of trust. They could not afford to hate each other now. “I think something happened to him,” she said. “I think we should call the police.”
The next day he called the police in Pequod, where Robbie had last been seen. But this time it was different—it was not the way it had been with Hall junior.
“You’re talking about an adult,” the officer said.
“He’s eighteen.”
“That’s an adult. He has legal rights. He can just walk away if he wants to. Eighteen-year-olds disappear all the time; younger ones too. They come back after a few days, a few weeks. Wait till vacation’s over. He’ll turn up at school.”
“Our son wouldn’t just disappear and then turn up again.”
“Were there any circumstances indicating involuntary disappearance?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Hall snapped.
“Did he talk about suicide?”
“Robbie? Never.”
“Was he mentally or physically incapable?”
“No, of course not.”
“Why don’t you talk to his friends,” the police officer said. “I bet he told some of them where he was going.”
“His friends have scattered for vacation.”
“Then give it some time. First of all, you’d have to come here to make a report in person, and from what you’ve told me there’s no reason to. He just took off. Don’t worry about it.”
Hall hung up and turned to look at Cat. She had been listening on the extension and came back into the room, feeling like a sleepwalker.
“When that little bastard comes back,” Hall said, “unless there’s a damn good reason, I’m going to take away his car.”
“He’s an adult,” Cat said in a dead voice. “Can you take away an adult’s car?” She started to cry.
He made a move as if to comfort her, and then drew back. He was not quite sure if she was being ironic or taking one of her customary digs at him. She wished he had put his arm around her so she would not feel so alone, but it was probably too late. She wasn’t even sure if what she’d said had been her usual angry reaction to his narrow-minded stubbornness, or if she had been voicing aloud something she had just discovered that shocked her and made her cry. Robbie was their child, no matter whether or not the law said he was never to be considered a child anymore. What was wrong with their home that they had existed all this year treating Robbie as if he were a little boy, a “teen-ager,” when in reality he could do anything the law said she and his father could do and no one could stop him? He could get married. He could leave college. He could move away. It was no longer called running away. He belonged to himself.