by Clara Nipper
Finally, the park and the lake were quiet. I broke the spell by shaking my head and doing deep knee bends. While Max still read like a mannequin in a store window, I went for a run around the lake. I didn’t care that I wasn’t dressed for it. I didn’t care that the mugginess was like a smothering sheet wrapping me in a cocoon. Without a cunt or a cigarette for comfort, I needed this. I loved feeling the slap of my feet on the pavement. No matter how hard I pressed, the earth always pressed back, supporting me. I paced myself, breathing slowly and deeply, struggling to acclimate to the syrupy air. I felt strangely at home while running. I loved my strong, lean body and everything it could do so easily.
I ran hard. I ran until my lungs heaved and my body streamed with sweat as if I had stepped through a waterfall. I ran to outrun my sex, but it kept up. I wished Max could watch me play ball. I sprinted the last hundred yards, collapsing into laughter on the trunk of my car, overcome with my own dementia. I stretched for a while, figuring I had done four miles, four times around the lake, and that was okay. I enjoyed being an athlete. A jock or a hardbody is what others have called me, but I couldn’t bear to describe myself that way. I gasped, trying to catch my breath. My lungs felt tight and gummy and full of paste. My eyes were still weeping and I felt congested and sneezy. I glanced at Max’s bedroom, wishing only to bum a cigarette, but the windows were dark now. It gave me a thrill to think that maybe Max had noticed me and was pressed to the glass in the blackness, watching me lustfully.
I shook off the silver beads of sweat and pulled roughly at my crotch, deciding I would return to my hotel alone. Max was alone, so I would be. We’d be alone together. I liked that.
Once in my hotel room, I tore off my clothes and collapsed into bed, asleep even before my skin cooled.
Chapter Ten
For unclear reasons, perhaps best not examined closely, I had decided to follow the Amber lead. I had curiosity and time—two ingredients that could result in any outcome. So I had arranged for the wake-up service to call early so I could talk to this bookstore woman, have a nice run, eat lunch, and get to the funeral.
I fought my way out of heavy layers of sleep to hear the phone ringing. My genitals still throbbed and twitched from last night’s spying. I derived a perverse pleasure from this teasing torture. Was Max calling? I couldn’t find the lamp switch, so I groped for the phone, knocking it from the nightstand. I had what I guessed to be a sinus headache.
“Hello?” I croaked.
“This is your eight a.m. wake-up call,” a computer voice said. I hung up and stretched.
I turned on the television and saw that the local weather people were issuing dire warnings. “Don’t go out at dawn or dusk because of the mosquitoes; don’t go out in midday; check on neighbors and relatives; watch children and the elderly; make sure pets have shade and water; do not exert yourself in any way if at all possible; stay hydrated; allergens and smog are strong; use sunscreen if you must be outside, and these are the warning signs of heatstroke…” I turned it off, flopping back on the bed, yawning.
I needed information. Sloane might know. Darcy might know. I sat up and scrubbed my eyes. I called Max’s number and the woman who answered said neither Max nor Sloane were home. Take a message? No. I hung up and rummaged through my pockets for Darcy’s number and dialed.
“Darcy, go!” Darcy barked after half a ring.
I laughed, still not used to the way she answered the phone. “This is Nora.”
“Yeah, what’s up? What’s going on?”
“Well, I don’t know anything about this city and I want to go for a run.” The thought lazily crept across my mind of just running around Swan Lake again. “In a pretty place. And then I need to eat. Know any restaurants?”
“Going to the funeral later?”
“Yeah.” I squinted at the clock, wanting a cigarette. The smog of smoke would cushion me from Darcy. I also needed some aspirin. This woman put me on edge. I hoped fervently that Darcy, Ava-Suzanne, and Jhoaeneyie would be busy and I could eat by myself or try Sloane again. I dreaded calling Sloane because I was so afraid of seeing her, fresh from bed and sex-rumpled, happily giddy and deeply satisfied and smelling like Max. And if anyone in the world could recognize that, it was me.
“Well, Riverparks is the place to run. It’s miles of paved path on the riverbank. I used to run there all the time.”
I tried and couldn’t picture Darcy’s doughy body running anywhere.
“But I’m into isometrics now. You know what that is?” Darcy continued.
“Yes, but where—”
“I do it twice a day and it really shows. Ava-Suzanne can sure tell the difference.” Darcy chuckled. “I would come run with you, but I get shin splints. I really miss it, though it can be bad on your joints. Are you sure you want to run?”
“Yeah, I’m used to it. So how—”
“Well, suit yourself. No more of that high-impact stuff for me. I’ll be starting Pilates soon. Ever heard of it?” She pronounced it “Pie-latts.”
I rolled my eyes. Ain’t this some shit, I wanted to say. Instead of opening the drapes onto the criminally bright, scorching day, I switched on the dim bedside lamp and studied the Tulsa map. The city was bigger than it looked. “Yeah, I’ve heard of Pilates.” I pronounced it correctly. “Now,” I said as I would to an ornery freshman on my team, “what river is that?” I scratched my stubbly head. I’d need to shave my scalp before the service.
“Arkansas River, can you find it?”
“Sure.”
“Okay then, now, where to eat…you like Tex-Mex?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, hold on.” Darcy covered the receiver and I could hear her talking. Then she said, “Ava-Suzanne says why don’t we all meet at Café Kokopelli around one?”
I rolled my eyes and groaned inwardly. I had asked for it, hadn’t I? “That would be fine.”
“Then we could share a ride to the funeral.”
“Oh, I’ve already promised Sloane,” I lied.
Cool silence. “Sloane? Sloane Weatherly? Not a good idea, but whatever. Café Kokopelli is at Thirty-fifth and Peoria. Can you find it or should we pick you up? I’ll be in the BMW.”
“No, no, I can find it. Is it near Swan Lake?”
Darcy paused meaningfully. “It can be if you like.”
“I’ll find it, don’t worry,” I said hastily. “See you there at one o’clock.” I laid out my funeral clothes, put on baggy shorts and T-shirt and headed out.
I reached my rental car and there was heavy moisture and condensation clouding the windows. I had missed the fog as it had gathered during the night and spread through the streets, touching everything before it melted. I snapped on the air conditioner and turned on the wipers. I drove to the bookstore, which was midtown and close to Max’s. I had to exert all my will not to dump the game plan and just drive over to Swan Lake, bust in on Max, and roll all over her, tangling both of us in body-warm bedsheets, laughing, breathless, rubbing skins. I was home at last. Later, I promised myself. Later.
The bookstore was in part of an old foundry that had been lovingly restored and that had kept the original exterior. There were spectacular oak and sweet cherry trees all around the building. Their leaves were turning brittle and yellow and falling into heaps on the sidewalk. The ornamental lawn was crisp. Some marigolds in boxes were the only plants thriving. The foundry had been converted to shops. I went inside. It was a huge space, nicely cool and dim. I heard the phone ringing insistently over the New Age music. All I could see were bookshelves. Hundreds of them. Mismatched and packed to bulging. The smell of incense was overpowering.
“Look out!” A woman whizzed by on Rollerblades and stopped at one of the phones. She wore a tiny gauzy skirt and a tight half shirt. She had short straight brown hair, closely cropped. She had tattoos on her arms, her legs, and her belly. She wore fifteen rings on each hand, five earrings, and a navel ring. “Light and Love,” she snapped, thoroughly put out. “Yes, I do readings o
ver the phone, but I can’t right now, I’m swamped. You need to call back either after I’ve closed or before I open tomorrow.” She hung up.
The phone rang. I stood next to a shelf that was labeled “Ouspensky and Gurdjieff.” I was fascinated and wanted to watch. I noticed the heads of many other browsers among the shelves.
“Light and Love,” the woman barked. “Yeah, we have the Ephemeris. What year and type? Uh-huh. Rosicrucian? Yeah, we have that. Until nine p.m.” She glided to a customer service area that was in the center of the enormous room and raised three steps. She went up and sat on a stool. “Bear, are you still here?” She was exasperated.
“I told you, Amber,” a man whined. My look sharpened. Bingo. That was the woman. “I’m dating a faerie. Is that weird?”
“No, we’ve all done that a time or two, am I right? But I can’t help you.”
“Don’t you have anything? Any book about this that would show me where her head is at? I need to get into her headspace.”
“Well, I know an alien abductee you could talk to.”
“Whoa.” Bear laughed, holding up his hands. “That’s a trip.”
“Other than that I don’t know. Like I said, the faerie section is over there. Everything we have about faeries, headspace and otherwise, will be there.” She pointed and added, “Perhaps a therapist could help more.”
A woman approached the counter and held something out to Amber. “Can I use black tourmaline for anger?”
“You bet.”
“But what about for creativity?” she persisted. Bear wandered off to thumb through the faerie section again.
“For creativity, you want this,” Amber said, handing the woman a stone. “Tiger eye. They also come in blue, but those are rare. This will work fine.”
A large golden retriever wandered past me, followed by a little boy, barely a toddler. I noticed the poured terrazzo floors slightly streaked with Amber’s wheel skids.
I began browsing. In a glass case, I saw embroidery sets called “Stitches for Witches.” Next to that were tiny cast iron cauldrons no larger than a tennis ball. On top were elaborate candleholders bearing likenesses with their names: Cat Wizard, Wolf Council, and Wizard Retreat. On the wall were mounted dragon sconces for sale. I stopped short when I reached a locked deep glass cabinet filled with wands. They were all types, from simple dark wood to elaborate, gem-encrusted with their own purple velvet carrying cases. On the end of each wand was a very sharp crystal. I sucked air at the price tags—$1,500!
Amber skated to my side. “Who are you?”
“I wanted to ask you—” I began. The phone rang.
Amber bellowed, “I’ve got someone needing a Scorpio pendant gift-wrapped, someone else wanting to look at Tarot decks, another one needing a new moon goddess pentagram, a guy wanting to buy that sarcophagus, and now this. She better get me some fucking help around here.” Then she rolled off to get the phone. I waited. Amber skated back.
I smiled. “Do you have a minute?”
“Does it look like I have a minute?” Amber said. “You want to know about the wands and if I’m single, right? I can always tell. I have a gift for insight.” She clattered around to the rear of the case to unlock it. “Which one do you want to see?”
I was almost speechless. “Well…I…”
Amber addressed the ceiling. “That’s all I need, another damn magician. You know what happened last time. But if that’s what is in the cards, then make it so. Blessed be.”
I laughed. “No, no, you got me all wrong.”
Amber smirked. “Sure I do.”
“Hey, listen, I’m just standing here. I don’t give a shit about all this crap.”
The phone rang. “Stay here,” Amber commanded. She skated off to answer it. I gazed at various titles on a display table. The Dumbass’ Guide to Wicca and Witchcraft, Gunilla’s Guide to Massage, The Tibetan Book of the Dead, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Be Here Now, 666 by Aleister Crowley, Tantric Yoga, Easy Vegan Recipes, Magical Herbs, The Gospel According to Thomas, How to Levitate, The Qaballah, What You Should Know about Gnosticism, and Natural Childbirth. I was about to pick one up, I didn’t know which one, when Amber returned.
“You’re a Capricorn, aren’t you?” Amber said, nodding.
“What? No. My birthday is in May.”
“I can always tell. Cappys are so stubborn.” Amber laughed. “So listen up. We can go out, but there are some things you need to know first. I am devotedly bi and I like it. I only do open relationships. Monogamy just kills me, you know what I mean?”
“I only came here to ask you—” I spoke slowly from shock.
“Amber,” someone called. “I need two grams of dragon’s blood.”
Amber squeezed my arm. “Don’t go away.”
A customer nudged me over so she could look more closely at the wands. My skin was beginning to crawl.
“Aren’t these beautiful?” the customer said reverently. “I wish I could buy all of them.”
I just watched, feeling so alien, I might have grown horns or sprouted tentacles.
“I’m a light worker,” the woman said and at my look of bewilderment, she added, “I work in the light. I work with light. And you’re someone with immense fire and energy. I could tell immediately.”
I cleared her throat. “Can you tell me…”
The woman smiled, looking eager.
“Where is Earth and how do I get there?”
The woman laughed and walked to inspect the mortar and pestle sets. Amber skated back, a lit cigarette dangling from her mouth.
“What’s that?” I sniffed, suddenly interested.
“Clove cigarette. Try it.” Amber placed it between my lips. I got a strong whiff of patchouli from Amber’s skin.
I smoked and smiled. It was good. I started feeling a little buzzed. “You sell these here?”
“Yeah. That and American Spirit. No, keep it,” Amber said when I tried to return the smoke. Amber removed another from her skate boot and lit it from a lighter she stowed in her skirt. “Really mellows me out. You know what I mean?”
“Sure. Now listen. I came to ask about Michelle.”
Amber smiled wryly. “You don’t really want to pull on that thread, do you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“It sounds a helluva lot better than it lived.”
“What does that mean?” I was loving the luxury of smoking in a shop.
“Capricorn, why don’t we go out for a drink after I close so many hours hence?” Amber grinned, tapping her ashes to the floor. The phone began ringing. “I gotta go. But think on this: The easiest person to lie to is the one who wants to be deceived.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I know who you are.” Amber smiled, skating backward. “And I will enjoy trying you on for myself. See you at nine sharp tonight.” Amber reached the phone.
“Aren’t you going to the funeral?” I called.
Amber shook her head, the phone ringing underneath her hand. “I said good-bye when I kicked her sorry ass to the curb. I gotta work. A funeral is for the people who care.” Amber licked her lips and air-kissed me. “Light and Love,” she yelled into the telephone.
I shook my head. Another dead end. I dropped my butt and ground it out. This crazy place, Amber talking in riddles and trying to seduce me, which left me cold. I left to go for my run.
Chapter Eleven
I drove to the river just because of my unfamiliarity with the town. Had I realized how close to the hotel it was, I would’ve jogged to it.
Instead of parking right away, I drove farther down on Riverside Drive, from Southwest Boulevard to 121st and back, just admiring the scenery. Tulsa was a beautiful city. It was bursting with trees. Like a city had been built in the forest. I saw seagulls, which I didn’t expect to see away from the beach, and herons gliding gracefully over the water. The entire stretch of track was pretty and made me consider moving here. There were lots of people out,
white people to be sure, but that didn’t faze me. Even in these cremating temperatures, people were jogging, biking, blading, playing Frisbee golf, rugby, and volleyball. Families, couples, and singles were strewn on blankets in the grass. Dogs barked and ran with the joy of life. Children shouted and screamed from the playground equipment, and vendors were selling water and juice and ice cream and pretzels. I pictured myself here…buying a house close and running here every day.
When I returned to Southwest Boulevard, I did a U-turn and parked, thinking I would run seven or eight miles if I watched the time. Once out of the car, my sunglasses fogged, I began sneezing, my eyes began watering, all in a flash. I stretched and I forgot all my miseries and discomforts as my spirit soared. The upcoming funeral did not bother me now. I took off, loving the feel of my feet hitting the ground, propelling me. I pulled air into my lungs greedily, speeding past joggers and walkers and even some slow bikers. I loved my legs that were as strong and dependable as iron. I felt I could jump any hurdle today. I nodded, smiled, at everyone I passed. Birds sang, locusts buzzed, crape myrtles bloomed, squirrels chittered, and I ran through it all, the river and I running silently together. I even loved the soggy air that wilted me. In the car, I drank and drank of the water I bought on the return run. But my cottonmouth persisted. I threw the empties over my shoulder into the back. I stopped at a drugstore, and to my everlasting irritation, like a failure or a defeat, bought a sinus and allergy relief medication and dry-swallowed two before I left the store.
Back at the hotel, my clothes wringing wet, I checked my messages—none—showered and shaved my scalp with practiced efficiency. Then I admired myself dressed in the mirror. “I am so, so fine. Max should be so lucky.”
I found Café Kokopelli with no trouble. Again, when I stood, rising out of the car, my sunglasses fogged me blind. The restaurant had sheltered outdoor seating with ceiling fans, several floor fans, and an overhead mister that hissed cool microscopic water droplets onto the diners. The restaurant also had twinkling lights and jazz grooving softly in the background.