Just the Fax

by Lois RH Balzer

  There was a long pause before he got his reply. “I suppose not.”

  Damn it. Blair sounded more depressed now than he had a minute before. Jim opened the bedroom door, his eyes focusing in the dark to see Blair lying on top of his bed, staring up at his ceiling. He stepped into the room. “Do you want something for your headache?” he asked.

  “No.”

  The silence lengthened while Jim tried to figure out what his next step should be.

  “Go away, Jim. I just need some time alone,” Blair said, still staring upward.

  “Is it the fax?” Ellison ventured.

  “Yes, it’s the damned fax!” Blair yelled, then turned on his side, facing the wall. “Please, Jim,” he said softer, his voice gruff with emotion. “Just leave me alone for a bit. Go away. I’ll— I’ll talk to you later.”

  Not sure what else to do, Jim backed out of the room and closed the door. He refilled his coffee cup and read the fax yet again, but he couldn’t see anything that would account for Blair’s reaction. He shrugged finally, leaving it on the table, deciding it must have something more to do with the woman who sent it than the actual message.

  *

  Almost two hours passed before the door to Blair’s room creaked open and his partner slowly walked into the living room. Jim turned off the television, and turned slightly on the couch to face the young man. The fax sat on the coffee table, and he watched as Blair stared at it as though it were a poisonous snake about to strike.

  Blair dropped into the opposite couch, then glanced up to him. He had a smile on his face, but there was no laughter behind it, just sadness. “I should have been more prepared for it.”

  “For what?” Jim asked, carefully.

  Blair gestured toward the fax. “For what Brenda sent.”

  “About the Sentinels?”

  “About the Guides.”

  Ellison picked up the fax. “I thought it was rather flattering.”

  Blair’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yeah, right. Maybe if I were anything like that, it would be. Face it, Jim, no matter how much you want to kid yourself, I’m not anything like that description of a watchman’s companion. I know you say that things are different since we live in Cascade, not the jungle or anything, but there’s a certain amount of universal truth here that we can’t ignore.”

  “What exactly do you have a problem with here, Sandburg?” Ellison asked.

  Blair snorted, his head shaking in disbelief. “Get real, Jim. Did you read that thing?”

  Ellison took the first page and read aloud.

  He said this watchman lived alone, always by himself, but then he starts talking about the watchman’s companion. My translator stopped and asked him how the watchman could live alone if his companion was always there and the tribesman couldn’t understand the question. (?) He described the companion briefly, as follows.

  Jim glanced up to Blair, noticing the clenched fists. He continued reading.

  He was a surprisingly gentle man, for a warrior, with eyes that could see through us into our souls. He looked stern and important, but he was focused on his job and knew what was needed as he advised our village. We all listened to him and we all trusted him. We were not afraid of him. He was very wise and spoke with the spirits and we knew he would protect us until he died.

  Blair was staring at him, looking confused. “What are you reading?”

  “I’m reading the fax.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong. Where’s the stuff about being big and tall and strong?”

  Jim glanced back at the fax. “Oh, here.” He read the last line from one page, then on to the next.

  I only remember seeing one watchman, and he was in our tribe.

  As with all of his chosen kind, he was tall, taller than anyone else in the village. His shoulders were wide and strong for he had a great burden, to protect his partner, and so protect the village. He was responsible for his partner’s safety, and with his great strength and cunning, could kill a jaguar or a boa before they would attack his partner. He was fierce, a great warrior, his arrows were true to target, his muscles solid as great rocks. It is said that he never slept; he was always awake to make sure his partner was safe, for his partner’s life came before his own and his partner relied on him to watch over him. We were afraid of him when we were children, and hid our faces if he came near us, lest he look at us and steal away our souls.

  “Is it the description of the Sentinels you have trouble with?” Ellison asked, as he read. “Or that the Sentinel was so responsible for his partner?”

  “What the hell are you reading, Jim?” Blair asked, scooting over to sit beside him. “You’ve got it all mixed up. It’s the Guide that is tall and stuff.”

  “I like this line about the Sentinel and Guide,” Ellison said, as he reread the fax.

  The watchman in our village had a companion, and we never saw one without the other. The one responsible for the safety of a watchman was of highest value, for if the watchman was not safe, our tribe was not safe. In protecting one man, the companion protected us all.

  “I think that describes your role very well. It’s nothing different than you explained to me when we first met. Every Sentinel had a partner, someone to watch his back,” Ellison quoted. “That’s what you told me.”

  Blair had taken the fax and was rearranging the papers. “You’ve read them out of order, Jim. Look at the fax information at the top. The pages are numbered. See— the description of the companion. Tall, strong, big shoulders.”

  “Oh.” Jim took back the document, frowning. “I had them in order by the circled number on the bottom of each page. Here in the corner.” He pointed to the tiny numbers Brenda had written. “She must have faxed them in the wrong order.”

  “What?” Blair’s eyes were huge, his brows pulled into a frown as he shuffled and arranged and rearranged the faxed papers. “What? What?”

  “Brenda faxed them in the wrong order. You read them in the order they came, with the university fax machine’s page numbers, instead of by the numbers she wrote on the pages.”

  “You’re kidding. No way. What?” A slightly giddy laugh bubbled from his partner. “Oh, shit, man.” The papers went sailing into the air. “I can’t believe that. I can’t believe it. Just shoot me now, Jim. I am such an idiot.”

  *

  It was just before midnight, and Blair took a champagne glass from the tray Joel held out to him, then moved across the noisy room to the balcony door, slipping outside to look at the lights of the city. He could hear the partiers through the glass door, chanting along with Dick Clark as the television station rebroadcast a New Year’s celebration from three hours before. It was sort of anticlimactic when you thought about it. It said “live” on the top corner, but it wasn’t. It had been live at one point, to people in that time zone. Occasionally it would also say “recorded live at an earlier time” to clarify itself, but he wanted to be as far away from that sort of forced hype as he could.

  He was glad he had come with Jim to this party, rather than making the rounds as he did most years. They spent several hours talking about the fax, and Jim had made a point of saying that even if the information had been the way Blair had first read it, it didn’t affect his opinion of his partner. Blair was exactly what he needed in a guide. Nothing less. Size and skill were no guarantee of safety— Blair’s ability to sort out his senses and to watch him when he risked zoning was what kept them alive, what made his partner invaluable.

  Blair looked back through the frosted glass and he could see them all mingling and laughing, enjoying themselves. Jim and Simon, Joel and his wife, Rafe and Brown, and a host of others, some of whom he knew, most of whom he didn’t know. And there was Cassie worming her way through the crowd heading toward Jim, probably trying to time her arrival at his side to the stroke of midnight.

  Turning away, Blair looked up into the faint stars on the cold clear night. The snow had gone already, but there was a cr
isp frost on everything that glittered in the streetlight. He shivered, trying not to cough as he took another deep breath. A new year was right around the corner. He had a lot of reasons to leave this last year behind. Golden drugs. Falling elevators. Being shot. Taken hostage.

  The fax had made them both stop and talk about what was right about their partnership. His insecurities would probably surface now and again, Blair realized, but he had seen his worth in Jim’s eyes and it had been more than enough. If Jim was happy with him, what more really mattered? Jim had quoted the one line over and over: The one responsible for the safety of a watchman was of highest value. What scared Blair the most was that he was responsible, but what Jim picked out of the quote was that Blair was of highest value.

  He heard a noise behind him as the door opened and closed again, and glanced back to see Jim joining him on the balcony. “Hi. Too loud in there for you?”

  “You’re not doing your job, Chief,” Jim said, moving past him around the corner.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Get over here,” Jim ordered. “Out of sight. Cassie’s after me. And if she sees you out here, she’ll think I’m here, too. Where one is, the other is, remember?”

  Blair laughed, joining Jim at the far railing. “Sorry. I thought you could handle her okay on your own.”

  “No way, Junior. You’re supposed to watch my back.”

  Blair turned, leaning against the railing so he could keep an eye on the balcony door. “That better?”

  Ellison nodded. “A minute to go.” Jim held his drink loosely in his hand, staring out across the city lights and Blair wondered again how it would look with Sentinel sight. Jim glanced to him. “Any regrets about this year, Sandburg?”

  “Overall? No. I could have done with a few less injuries, I guess.”

  Ellison laughed, turning his head to look at him again. “Me, too. Less car crashes, as well.” The Sentinel stood taller, listening to the laughter inside Joel’s house. “Thirty seconds.”

  “It was fun. This year,” Blair said suddenly. “I’m glad I was part of it all.”

  “I’m glad you were with me,” Ellison replied, turning Blair around so he could see the fireworks, then he rested his arms over his partner’s shoulders. “Countdown. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.”

  Outside the neighborhood was waking up as people came out on their doorstep, banging on pots and pans, blowing on noisemakers.

  Blair leaned back closer to his partner, turning his head slightly to talk over the sudden noise as the balcony door opened. “Jim, I want to say thanks. It’s been a good year. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.”

  “Next year will be better,” Jim said, grinning as he held out his champagne glass in front of them. “To us in 1998. May we make it through safely.”

  Blair nodded happily, clinking his glass against his partner’s as the balcony became crowded as midnight came and it seemed the whole party joined them. Fireworks lit up the sky. Everyone was shouting. Jostled by the crowd that pushed them back into the corner, he shivered in the cold, his head tilting to watch the colored lights. Jim pulled him back closer against his chest, then draped his arms around him, pointing out a starburst to their right, and Blair felt as warm and safe and protected as the description of the Guide in the fax Brenda had sent.

  Joel was beside them, clinking glasses with them both, then disappearing. Cassie took Joel’s place, half crushing Blair against Jim as she threw her arms around them both and gave each a big kiss. Jim never moved his arms from around Blair’s shoulders, which meant Cassie couldn’t get in between them, or effectively get her arms around either individually. She hovered for a moment, chatting on about something, then Rafe—who was feeling no pain at this point— had her in his arms, kissing her quite soundly and marching her back toward the dance floor while she smiled back at them over her shoulder, waving goodbye.

  “Bye bye,” Ellison said, turning back to watch the fireworks as Blair laughed.

  “You are so cruel, man.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sandburg. Drink your champagne and we’re going home. I’m beat and you are turning into a popsicle.”

  “Nice work there, Jim,” Simon said, sidling up beside them and gesturing toward Cassie.

  “Just following your guidelines, sir.”

  “Yeah, right. Well, Happy New Year, both of you.”

  “You, too, Simon,” Blair said, toasting with the little left in his glass.

  “If this year is going to be anything like last year, I’m going to need it,” Simon said, still chuckling as he drifted away joining the rest as they went back into the living room.

  “Let’s go, Chief,” Ellison said, steering his partner inside.

  Blair nodded and shivered, his teeth clenched to keep them from chattering as they moved through the crowd. “Cassie at ten o’clock,” he whispered, and felt himself being moved in the opposite direction.

  “See, you’re already protecting me and we’re only a few minutes into the year,” Jim whispered back. “I have a feeling we better get all the rest we can get before we tackle 1998. Who knows what’s in store for us?”

  “Don’t ask, man. Don’t ask.”