Princes of Arkwright

by Trafford, Daniel

  “Still a great conversationalist, I see,” said Aly, not bothering to make eye contact with Tucker. “Well, let’s go.”

  She took Lenore by the hand and the two of them walked ahead.

  “Well,” said Tucker, “that was awkward. I wasn’t staring at her, you know.”

  “Tuck,” whispered Victoria reassuringly, “don’t worry about it. Even I catch myself staring at them sometimes. They’re hypnotic aren’t they?”

  Tucker laughed and shook out his hands, which had been firmly clenched into fists since Aly’s arrival.

  “So, what happened last night?” asked Victoria, once Aly and Lenore were out of earshot. “I was so scared. Did that guy take you to the hospital?”

  “No, not exactly,” said Tucker.

  “Who was he?” she pressed. “Is he a friend of yours?”

  “We’re not friends,” he said. “It’s kind of complicated.”

  “How mysterious!” she said, shooting Tucker one of her coquettish smiles. “Well, whoever he is, he sure helped you. I can’t believe the way he threw that gorilla against the wall. He can throw me around anytime.”

  Tucker felt a sharp twinge in his chest.

  “So, you like him, eh?” said Tucker.

  “Who wouldn’t?” she asked.

  The carnival grounds were littered with red, yellow and orange leaves. A Ferris wheel curved over the treetops, and a live band performed weak renditions of classic rock under the end of a long green canopy. A sign hanging from the middle of it proclaimed that this was the “beer tent.” There were so many police officers walking around that Tucker couldn’t help thinking it must be a field day for criminals in the rest of the city.

  “I know you can get us on the rides for free, Tuck,” said Victoria, “but this money goes to the fire victims fund, so I’m gonna pay.”

  “Oh,” said Tucker, “actually I lied about that so you’d go with me. I was planning on paying. I can’t get you on anything for free. In fact, when the other cops see it’s me, they’ll probably charge me double.”

  Tucker pulled out his wallet, but Aly had already reached the booth and bought a two-foot-long strand of tickets. Without a word, she put Lenore on a little motorcycle ride nearby.

  “All right,” said Tucker to Victoria, “Lenore seems in good hands. Come on, I’ll buy you some cotton candy.”

  “Actually,” said Victoria. “I hate cotton candy. But you can buy me a doughboy,” she said, pointing to a booth that sold fried dough with powered sugar on top.

  “You too?” said Tucker. “I thought I was the only one who hated cotton candy. Kids used to make fun of me for it when I was little. I just think it’s gross.”

  “How about mashed potatoes?” asked Victoria.

  “I hate mashed potatoes!”

  “Me too!” she said. “And nobody understands.”

  “On Thanksgiving,” continued Tucker, “I always feel an obligation to put a little on my plate or my family gets mad, because they love it so much.”

  “What about it don’t you like?” asked Victoria

  “The consistency, I guess,” said Tucker thinking carefully about it. “I have a sharp gag reflex.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, it cut short a promising career in gay porn.”

  Victoria laughed.

  “I’m sorry,” continued Tucker. “That wasn’t very appropriate.”

  “Are you kidding?” said Victoria, still laughing. “I think you’re hilarious. Besides, I’m much worse. You never have to worry about what you’re saying around me.”

  Tucker bought Victoria a doughboy and they walked back to the kiddie rides to watch Lenore going around in circles on a miniature dump truck.

  “I want to go on the Ferris wheel,” shouted Lenore, tripping out of the truck when the ride had ended and running up to Victoria, “but I want you to go with me.”

  “OK,” said Victoria, passing her half-eaten doughboy to Tucker and taking Lenore by the hand. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

  Tucker was left standing alone with Aly, who stared at him as though he were a bug she was trying to decide whether or not to stomp on.

  “So,” stammered Tucker, “what have you been doing for the past 10 years?”

  “If you hurt Victoria,” said Aly, putting her face about an inch away from Tucker’s, “I’ll kill you.”

  “Why are you so mean to me?” demanded Tucker. “What did I do to you?”

  “You were like every other guy in high school that made me feel bad about myself for four years.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Tucker, throwing his hands up. “I hardly ever spoke to you.”

  “Of course not,” said Aly. “I wasn’t a cheerleader or a perky blonde. So I didn’t exist. I dressed a little differently, so I was a weirdo. And you were a jerk to judge me on appearances.”

  “Well, I was wrong,” admitted Tucker. “I’m sorry I thought you were strange because of the way you dressed. I’m sorry I found your demeanor a little dark and off-putting. And I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you better. In short, I’m sorry that I was a 17-year-old boy. But if I was a jerk then, you’re an even bigger jerk now for thinking I’m the same person I was in high school.”

  Aly stood for a moment watching Tucker with her face frozen and her mouth wide open, like she had just been slapped. Then she looked down at the leaves and said, “You’re right. I shouldn’t judge you for the idiot you were over 10 years ago.”

  “Thanks,” said Tucker, rolling his eyes.

  “It’s just that Victoria has dated a lot of jerks and I didn’t want to see her get her heart broken by some misogynistic boob-starer.”

  “Boy,” said Tucker, “stare at your boobs once and you get slapped with a label.”

  “Touch my boobs once,” said Aly, “and you get slapped with a restraining order.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” said Tucker. “I’ll try to control myself.”

  “Truce?” said Aly, offering her hand and showing the slightest hint of a smile for the first time all day.

  “Truce,” said Tucker, shaking her hand.

  “Of course,” she added, “I still think you’re an idiot.”

  “And I still think you’re a weirdo,” said Tucker with a smile.

  He had just let go of her hand when Lenore came running up and grabbed it.

  “Come on, Auntie Aly,” she said, tugging her toward another ride and disappearing into the crowd.

  “So what were you two talking about?” said Victoria, biting her lip, expecting the aftermath of a fight.

  “Oh, you know,” said Tucker, “old times.”

  “Oh, good,” said Victoria, letting out a long breath. “I was worried you two were going to hate each other.”

  “No, no,” said Tucker, “we’re good. I was just …”

  “I love this song!” yelled Victoria as the horrible band began playing the first few notes of “Brown-eyed Girl.”

  “I’ve yet to meet the brown-eyed girl who didn’t love this song,” said Tucker, nodding.

  “Dance with me!” said Victoria, grabbing his hands.

  “Here?” he said, looking around to see who was watching. “In the middle of the carnival?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Why not? Others are doing it.”

  “Yeah,” he admitted, “but they’re all like 60. Besides, they’re drunk and under the beer tent.”

  “Fine,” she said, letting go of his hands and pouting. Just as she turned her back to Tucker, he threw down the remains of the doughboy, grabbed her arm and spun her around. She let out a little scream as Tucker tossed her around to the rhythm of the music, kicking up the leaves and creating a minor scene. When the song was finally over, Tucker looked her up and down as if surveying her with a comical frown of slight disapproval.

  “Happy now?” he asked.

  Victoria lunged forward and hugged him. “Thank you,” she said. “Let’s go find Aly and Lenore and we can all have lunch
. By the way, I’m having a small party for Lenore at my place tomorrow at noon. She’s turning 10. Can you come?”

  “I’d love to,” said Tucker. “Where do you live?”

  “230 Concord Avenue, Apartment 13B.”

  “I’d better write that down,” said Tucker, pulling a business card out of his wallet and writing on the back of it.

  “Bromley!” yelled a gruff familiar voice. Tucker looked up and saw the police chief over at the edge of the beer tent, with a plastic cup of beer in his hand and a scowl on his face. “You’re supposed to take them on dates, not take dictation!”

  “Who is that?” asked Victoria.

  “Some old … I don’t know … I think he’s the janitor,” said Tucker. And he grabbed Victoria and pulled her deeper into the carnival grounds.

  8. MINNEAPOLIS AND ST. PAUL

  The overcast day turned into a foggy night as Tucker walked alone down Station Street. The vacant mills and behemoth church had disappeared, save for the vague architectural apparitions where the yellow streetlamps smeared the air. It was colder now, but the brisk chill of the day had given way to the choking dampness of the night. For a Saturday, it was eerily quiet, and Tucker could hear nothing but his own footsteps. The fog shrouded everything to such a degree that he was within a foot of the church’s moveable letter sign before he could make out the words on it.

  “See I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way,” it read.

  “Creepy,” thought Tucker. Then he shuddered a little and kept walking. Spending the day with Victoria had kept his thoughts from lingering on his angelic companion of the night before. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about Uriel hurling a 300-pound man against the wall with one arm. No wonder Victoria had a crush on him. And she didn’t even witness the car ride down the river. But it was the archangel’s assault of a demon that monopolized Tucker’s mind. Battling evil one on one – no arraignments, no paperwork, no reading Miranda rights – that was the police work Tucker had always dreamed of. And he wouldn’t even have to carry the gun he hated. He would have an arsenal of divine weaponry at his disposal.

  Tucker had been out walking for a couple of hours – mostly to kill time. Victoria was working at Wallbangers tonight and he told her he “might” stop by. There was no more sincerity in that “might” than if he had said the sun “might” rise tomorrow morning. He figured just enough time had passed now where he could show up at the bar without seeming too eager.

  His eye caught the headline in a newspaper vending machine: “Mysterious crash leaves hole in bridge rail.”

  Seeing this tangible evidence of his adventure gave Tucker another shudder, which shook off any lingering doubts about his sanity.

  When he arrived at the bar, he tried to peer in through the window, but there was so much condensation, he could make out nothing but distorted ghostly figures. He slowly opened the heavy door and looked inside.

  This time the bar was a whirl of activity. The bright fluorescent lights, along with the clatter of clinking glasses, laughing patrons and bellowing drunks was such a sharp contrast to the dark quiet walk, that Tucker’s senses were momentarily overwhelmed. He looked down to the familiar barstool. There was Uriel, once again clad in khakis, a green T-shirt and a black dress shirt. Sitting next to him was Aly, still in her red plaid miniskirt, trying to engage him in conversation. Tucker sat on the other side of the angel and Victoria had already started to pour a cranberry juice.

  “Aly and I were just talking to your friend,” said Victoria.

  “We’re not friends,” said Tucker.

  “OK,” said Victoria, looking pleadingly at Aly.

  So, Tucker,” said the redhead, “I hear you had quite an adventure last night.”

  Tucker winced. He looked at Uriel, wondering how much the archangel told them and how he would explain it all.

  “Victoria tells me there was someone in here who wanted to kill you,” continued Aly, while Tucker breathed a sigh of relief. “I imagine that happens to you a lot.”

  Tucker laughed insincerely and took a sip of his cranberry juice.

  “I’m sorry,” said Aly to the archangel. “I don’t even know your name. I’m Alyson.”

  “I am called Uriel,” said the angel.

  “Uriel?” said Aly. That’s an unusual name. I wonder what it means.”

  “It means ‘fire of God,’” he answered.

  “Wow, that’s cool,” said Victoria. “What does ‘Tucker’ mean?”

  “It means ‘pinhead,’” said Aly quickly. “So do you live around here?”

  “Um, Victoria,” interrupted Tucker, “I have to tell you, Lenore is a great kid. She really takes after you. So, who watches her while you’re here?”

  “My father does,” said Victoria. “He’s a lifesaver, too. I can’t afford daycare.”

  “Daycare?” asked Tucker. “But you work at night.”

  “Well I’m taking some classes at the community college during the day.”

  “Really?” said Tucker. “What in?”

  “Oh, criminal justice,” admitted Victoria.

  “You want to be a cop?” said Tucker, a little surprised.

  “I was thinking about it, but I don’t think I’d make a very good one. I’m afraid of guns.”

  “So am I,” said Tucker. “That never stopped me.”

  Victoria chuckled as she refilled Aly’s glass with chardonnay.

  “I’m glad you’re coming tomorrow, Tuck,” said Victoria. “Lenore really likes you.”

  “And I always thought she was such a good judge of character,” said Aly.

  “You call this a truce?” said Tucker, leaning over the bar and frowning at Aly.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Baby steps.”

  “Well, tell Lenore I look forward to it,” said Tucker. “I already bought her a present.”

  “Oh, she’ll be so excited,” said Victoria. “She hasn’t been feeling well lately and I’m trying to keep her spirits up.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “I don’t know,” said Victoria, losing her omnipresent smile for a moment. “She’s tired all the time and she complains she doesn’t feel good. I’m taking her to the doctor on Monday. I just don’t know what else to do.”

  “You could petition God for help,” said Uriel.

  Tucker snapped his head to the side to look at the angel, then he glanced at Victoria to see her reaction.

  “If you mean ‘pray,’” said Victoria, “I’ve done plenty of that.”

  “It’s been my experience that prayer doesn’t work,” said Aly.

  “No,” said Uriel, “Talk to God.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Victoria, as Tucker squirmed on his stool and looked longingly at the front door.

  “People are too afraid to ask God for what they need – or too stupid,” said Uriel, picking up his Narragansett by the neck with two fingers and staring at the label.

  “Would you like to elaborate on that?” said Aly, cocking her head to one side.

  “Certainly,” said the archangel, his iridescent eyes now burning brightly. Tucker looked around the bar and pretended not to pay attention.

  “The admonishment was a simple one, Alyson,” said Uriel, “but perhaps a narrative would better illustrate. Some time ago, it seems an age hence, there were two cities, side by side, as twins.”

  “You mean like Minneapolis and St. Paul?” asked Tucker, now interested.

  “I do not remember the names,” said Uriel. “God decided that the people who lived there were too wicked to live, so he sent Michael and myself to lay waste to the inhabitants.”

  Tucker looked quickly from Victoria to Aly, but both seemed riveted to what Uriel was saying.

  “So we went with God to visit the cities,” the angel continued. “On the way, he decided he wanted to stop to visit a nearby farmer. He was just an ordinary man with no special personal endowments, but for some reason I could never fathom, God favored him. So w
e were sitting there, eating lunch and enjoying his hospitality when God tells him that he is sending us to destroy these cities. These tidings were unwelcome to him. He said it is not in character with the Almighty that God should do such a thing. After all, he said, there could be righteous people living in the cities. He asked God, ‘What if there are 50 innocent people living there? Would you destroy the innocent along with the guilty?’ This mere man actually presumed to question the will of God. But how much more surprised were we when God told him he will save the city if we find 50 innocent men. Then the man continued, ‘What if there are only 45 innocent men?’ Again, God relented. Then, alternating between apologizing to God and pestering him, he finally asked, ‘What if there are only 10 innocent men?’ And God paused for a moment, then said, ‘For the sake of the 10, I will not destroy it.’”

  Uriel took a drink of beer – the first Tucker had actually witnessed.

  “So the cities were saved then?” asked Victoria.

  “Hell no!” said Uriel, grinning. “We wrecked that place!”

  “Um, Uriel?” said Tucker, with a gesture that was halfway between running his fingers through his hair and trying to pull it out, “I’m sorry … what was the point of that story?”

  “Simply this, Tuckerbromley,” said the angel, his fiery gaze now fixed on Tucker’s face. “That this human was one of God’s best friends. And even he was too scared or too stupid to ask what he should have asked.” Here, the angel’s voice dropped to a whisper, “What if you find only one innocent man?”

  Tucker stared intently at the archangel, who went back to drinking his beer. Aly and Victoria looked at each other with raised eyebrows and mouthed the word “wow” to each other.

  “Well, Tucker,” said Aly. “You certainly have interesting friends.”

  “We’re not friends,” said Tucker and the angel simultaneously.

  Aly excused herself and went into the ladies room while Victoria went to wait on other customers.

  “So, Uriel, what do you think about her?” asked Tucker. “Would we make a good couple?”

  “Do not worry, Tuckerbromley,” replied the angel. “This one was set aside for you since before the world began.”