The Book: A Novel Calling

by Leo Nation

  “There is Big Guy with his head in a book,” Woman laughs. I look back to see Big Guy strolling with two big cats ambling at his legs. He seems unaware of the action up front. Fully absorbed by the story, he’s not interested in the outside world.

  “Look up!” Woman shouts.

  He stops reading his book, checks the tails of the two big cats in front of him, and returns to his story.

  “Watch where you’re going, Big Guy!”

  “He looks happy,” Woman says.

  “Engrossed,” I reply.

  Harlequin stops suddenly. He stands still where he is, surprise pasted on his face. He tilts forward like a plastic mannequin, eyes wide open, and continues to stare at something in a stupefied manner. Big Guy, still reading his book, continues to walk until he bumps into the clown—who leaps away wildly.

  From the howdah on the elephant’s back, Teenager extends a long wooden rod with a metal hook; he tugs on the elephant’s ear and the massive mammal turns and slowly comes full stop. Now I see what captured Harlequin’s attention. An alluring, translucent sphere floats there in space.

  Harlequin is wonderstruck.

  Even the elephant seems transfixed.

  The two young men on his back stare at the celestial vision, and Big Guy looks up, his mind elsewhere.

  A silver thread of light inside the virtually transparent sphere circumscribes the inside edge of the membrane. Just left of center a vertical line of celestial light gleams.

  “This is very sophisticated,” Woman says.

  I have no idea what she means by that.

  “They share awareness,” she explains.

  “Who?”

  “Harlequin and that gossamer being—they both know.”

  “What do they know?”

  “They are attracted to each other, driven toward each other, and they both know it.”

  “Sounds sexy,” I say.

  She ignores me.

  Scribbler pokes his big head through the porthole and climbs onto a crunch of gold. “This show is not over,” he says. “Look.”

  Harlequin leaps across the sky.

  “Look at that crazy bastard!” I cry out.

  “He’s flying,” Woman reacts with delight.

  “Look at him go,” I laugh.

  “He just consented to the Female Principle,” the Author says.

  “Maybe so,” I reply. “She does seem to have a big effect on him. He looks bewildered, absolutely flummoxed.”

  Scribbler observes, “The prospect of joining a real Lady is a powerful thing.”

  “I think he’s in love.”

  “I believe he is,” Woman agrees.

  Harlequin soars headfirst through space like a human rocket and collides with the gentle sphere of celestial light; luminance flares forth in all directions. The sky is filled with so much radiance we turn away. I look up again and see Harlequin curled inside the gleaming capsule, packed in so tight his chin is pressing his bent knee.

  Inside the heavenly enclosure streamers corkscrew in all directions like tickertape flowing over a big city parade. The jester raises his hand and lifts a long-stemmed glass. From a fancy bottle he pours forth a stream of confetti, and in an apparent vacuum the tiny paper particles float all around the aerial capsule. The jester laughs with gusto.

  “Incredible!” I shout, looking up.

  “I love that party hat!” Woman cries.

  The embryonic container silently explodes and instantly saturates the whole sky with intense light. We have to look down.

  “Don’t forget this,” Scribbler insists.

  “Who could do that?” I say.

  “It is very important.”

  “Okay! We got it!”

  ∞ 36 ∞

  I strolled out of the building and walked west into fading sunlight. As I reached the corner of 21st and Santa Monica, I felt energized by Sophie’s love. I allowed myself to receive a gentle sea breeze as I held onto my good feelings. Relatively clear headed and fully present despite the Retsina, I felt good, ready to start living again.

  I wanted one last look at the ocean in Santa Monica before leaving the state. I waited for the light to turn green. Let’s go!

  As I walked across the street, I thought, What the hell was that? I felt an echo reverberate my chest and spread so quickly it seemed to fill my body instantly. I felt wide awake but this was something new. What the hell…?

  A perky female passing by had looked up at me with eyes like sparkling sage; all she said was, “Hello!” It seemed so bold I was off balance before I got to the curb. Now at the other side of the street I was keenly aware of vibrations alternating in me. I heard a voice in my head, not exactly mine but clear as a bell.

  This is it! Do it now!

  I looked around for her.

  There she was, crossing Santa Monica Boulevard and taking the sidewalk off to the left. She had two friends with her, one male and one female holding their arms around her shoulders. All three looked happy. How could a stranger do this to me?

  I wanted to do a handspring across the intersection just to show off. But I didn’t. I shut down. I merely watched the lively trio walk away. She turned around and looked at me with a knowing smile that made things more confusing. I stood there buzzing like a wrinkled sack of African bees. She stopped and with a firm shake of her arms she said, “Well? … Goodbye!”

  Stunned by her beauty, derailed by her brazen candor, I suddenly expected another romantic disaster. All that entered my mind was the possibility of painful heartbreak. If a new attempt to connect with the opposite sex were to fail me now, I thought, I couldn’t handle it. I watched her march away with her two pals and a feeling of emptiness dredged my stomach.

  Still vibrating internally in a way that was completely foreign, I remembered my final rendezvous with Angela. I came back to how it felt to be buried in absurdity. I had already decided that my failed attempt to cross that bridge with Angela was my final exam. No more. But now, this woman was fiddling with my conviction. If she knew my story she wouldn’t bother with me, and I wouldn’t blame her. Considering the facts of my life, I figured the odds. Any attempted romance now would crash and burn in perfect failure. I was not an easy sell: I was in the wrong town without a job; my children were waiting for me to get home; I had to leave town as soon as possible. I tried to remember all that, so I could stay on track.

  I chose to do nothing.

  Still, I turned away from the beach and retraced my steps to the corner where I started. Without thinking about it, I crossed the street to the sidewalk she had taken.

  Damn it!

  If I missed this chance I would regret it, maybe for the rest of my life. Nobody in the world made me feel this way. When she turned and said goodbye like that, it was like being thumped on the forehead by the heel of her hand.

  Like a hapless proton circling an alluring nucleus of love, I was terrified of losing a woman I had never met. Simply because she had the power to do this to me, I felt it was too much to bear. Fainthearted, too damn weak to act, I knew that doing nothing would drive me crazy and doing something would probably destroy my life.

  Either way was a killer.

  At the curb I played it safe. I turned and walked away from her. I headed for the restaurant where Sophie had gathered the vittles for our feast.

  “What’ll you have?” asked the barman.

  “Give me a cup of coffee.” I said, flatly.

  “Okay, Chief,” he said, matching my mood.

  A curling line of steam rose from the black liquid. I looked down into a hazy reflection of my eyes in the brass bar beside the cup. I saw a distorted image of my face staring back at me through the scarred brass. That’s exactly how I felt, I thought, too scraped up and worn out to be clear about anything. The world was a hard place. I was stuck and hardly felt alive. I couldn’t see how to break out of this unbearable funk.

  The barman placed a burgundy napkin with a short stack of sugar cubes on the counter.
r />   “Want cream?”

  “No, thanks.”

  I touched a corner of a sugar cube to the surface of the coffee as Sophie had done. I watched the sugar turn gold, and I raised the cube to my lips. I suckled sweet coffee from one corner.

  How many mortal wounds does one man need? Losing a beauty like that would destroy me, but I didn’t have the strength to reach out. And yet even now I imagined myself fleeing the bar crying out, “Please, don’t go! Stop! It’s okay—Go ahead. Shred my silly heart—I can handle it!”

  I looked at the mirror behind the bottles of booze on the back bar. The guy I saw in there looked like a prisoner I didn’t want to recognize. I grabbed another sugar cube and dunked it a quarter-beat too long; half of the little block calved like a glacier into a dark hot sea.

  I brought what was left to my tongue and chewed a few crunchy bits of coffee-flavored sweet.

  Okay, I’ll stick to the plan, the one I had in mind when I walked out of Sophie’s office. I was happy before that stunning female walked by. I will be that way again.

  What a world!

  I paid the bartender automatically.

  At the door I squinted at a shadow moving by on the sidewalk, three people arm-in-arm. I looked up and saw her face. They had come back. She looked at me squarely and repeated, “Hello.”

  A new wave of echoes started vibrating in my head. I started thinking like a teenager. Walking behind them, staring at their backs, I decided to play it cool. I would act like I didn’t give a damn. That was it. I had a plan. It lacked depth but it made sense to me.

  I couldn’t care less.

  Jesus!

  The light at the corner changed.

  They strolled across the street.

  I followed and they turned to traverse Santa Monica as I went straight to the bus stop for L.A.

  She stopped walking halfway across the street. She stood in the middle of the street and slapped her hands on her hips. She looked at me with real frustration.

  “Well? … Goodbye!”

  A sudden wave of hope sloshed through me. Vibrating like a mad bull, I shouted, “Wait. Wait! Don’t go. Hold it!” I laughed as I added, “Hold on—hold everything—Stay right there!”

  I ran to her side and a horn went off. We sidestepped to the corner, where I said, “My name is Jonathan. What’s yours?”

  Only her eyes spoke.

  “Please, tell me your name.”

  “Éliane,” she said.

  “É-li-ane,” I repeated, thinking, love song!

  “You took your time, Jonathan.”

  “It’s very complicated.”

  “A little slow, I thought.”

  “I had to think about it!”

  “I noticed that.”

  “How do you feel about kids?”

  “Jonathan! You’re quicker than I thought.” Her eyes were glowing with intelligence. Her hair was like honey in a glass pot. I felt a warm glow.

  “Éliane…” I repeated her name for pleasure. “Éliane. I think it means born of light.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “It just feels right.”

  Éliane laughed, which gave me a thrill. I got another as she said, “I know a beautiful beach, Jonathan; it’s not far away. The water is clean.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  Paper streamers and confetti scattered through my mind.

  “It is a wonderful place. We can swim.”

  I felt giddy, so I took a chance. “Will you come to another part of the country?”

  “Are you kidding, Jonathan?”

  “I’m serious—now more than ever.”

  “What part of the country?”

  “It’s not in the West.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Nor the East.”

  “So, where?”

  “It’s not North or South.”

  “Tell me, then!”

  “First, you tell me, do you like kids?”

  “Jonathan!”

  “It’s the heart of the country, a green place that is becoming more aware. My daughters live there. I’m leaving to be with them, and I have a powerful feeling that millions of people are going to march through an archway there to signify a new way of being—for the world. I have to be there.”

  “By a river,” Éliane said.

  “A big one,” I replied. “It has a deep soul.”

  “You want me to answer now?”

  “I have to ask now because I have to go.”

  “You want me to—”

  “I love you already, Éliane. Is it possible that you—”

  “Of course,” said Éliane.

  “What? Did you just say that?”

  “I knew before you asked.”

  “How can I be so lucky?”

  “It’s in the stars, Jonathan.”

  “Well, then—where’s the beach?”

  ***

  Copyright © 2014 Gerald W. Landrum

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-13 978-1500682811