by Joseph Grady
“Yeah?”
I sat up and showed her my right paw, with blood still crusted on it.
“What the... is that blood?”
“It is.”
“Gross.”
“Lucy, do you know what this means?”
“It means... I don’t know... you hit one of them with your paw and he ran away?”
“Right.”
“Wow... you... Blue Bear, you saved my – ”
“Sure, but do you realize what this means?”
“That I really owe you now.”
“Metaphysically, Lucy, do you know what this means?”
“I’m not allowed to ask you questions about metaphysics. It’s too complicated.”
“It is too complicated for you. But what do you know thus far? What have I told you about all your questions about how things work?”
“I know I’m not allowed to ask you about metaphysics. You always said it’s a waste of my time and yours, that I’m much better off studying literature. Narrative is where you really touch the substance of reality, not science or abstract ontology.”
“Well,” I looked down at my paw again, still in disbelief, “Something new happened. The logic of the drama has changed. What have you been able to observe about my interactions with the physical world?”
“That it makes no sense.”
“To you it makes no sense. But what is it that makes sense to you?”
“Right, which is why I’m better off paying attention to the narrative value of your actions and not worrying about the spatial or physical realities. If I focus on the physical or non-physical aspects, everything stops making sense, but if I think of it as within a narrative, it does. It’s narrative law that’s important – aesthetics and journey and all that – not categories of being.”
“But what’s the one law that you’ve observed, even if I won’t let you talk about it or call it a law?”
“You can’t touch people other than me. But wait... that means... ”
“That’s right.”
“You touched someone.”
“This has never happened before, to anyone,” I said. “Ever. Not to anyone that I know of.”
“That’s crazy.”
“No... not just ‘that’s crazy’ like I-just-won-a-free-t-shirt ‘that’s crazy’... Lucy... this is a complete and total unheard of singularity. All the laws of the narrative – not as you know them, but as I know them – just bowed down in your favor.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s the point. I don’t either!”
She stood up. “What time is it? Where’s Brian? Where’s Natasha and Andrew and Fr. Damien? Is everyone okay?”
“I chased off the two guys last night.”
Lucy climbed over all the things in the room to get to the door, opened it, and ran all the way upstairs to the rooftop servants’ quarters in bare feet and a bathrobe. By the time I got up to the terrace, she was coming out of the servants’ quarters in an orange running zip, black leggings, aviators, Brooks, french braids, and a smartphone armband.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nobody’s here. Brian texted. He’s at work. Natasha’s A.W.O.L. Fr. Damien’s here, but asleep like normal. Andrew’s gone too. I’m worried about him. He doesn’t go to class early.”
“Okay,” I said. “What are we gonna do?”
“Wait, I’ve got another question for you,” said Lucy.
“Yeah.”
“The two strong guys who tried to kill me last night, did one of them — the one that didn’t speak Italian, and didn’t actually speak at all — did he have a limp in his right leg?”
“I… I don’t know… I can’t say I remember. I was pretty angry. I guess both of them might have hobbled a bit, but that’s normal when a bear’s chasing you.”
“Was it a hobble or a limp?”
“I just don’t remember. Take your pick.”
She took off towards the roof access door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m getting out of here.”
“Okay?”
“I need to think, and I need to get out of here. Running’s the only way I can think lately.”
“Well, Brian’s the only one whose location we know for sure. You need to go and stay close to him and then find Andrew and Natasha. Figure out where they are.”
“Brian doesn’t want me or my problems.”
“Did you explain the situation to him?”
“No. But I already know how he’d react. His friends are in danger of death and he only cares about school and work.”
“If you tried to explain, I’m sure – ”
“I’ve tried to explain. I don’t need him. I’m a grown woman.”
“Lucy!” I raised my voice at her, something I rarely do. “You owe me! You just said you owe me. Promise me you’ll go find Brian and stay close to him. I am so not in the mood to discuss whatever ideology right now. I’d tell Brian the same thing about you if he were in your shoes right now. Alright?”
“Alright. But I don’t – ”
“I don’t care about your excuses right now!” I interrupted. She looked down at her shoes. “Promise me you’ll go get Brian and Natasha to help you, whatever it is you plan on doing next. Try to find Andrew too.”
“It’s just that – ”
“The laws of all the entire universe just bended in your favor. Does that mean nothing to you? It’s not gonna happen again. You’re still free,” I said.
She kept her eyes on her shoes, shifting weight from one leg to the other, itching to get going.
And I then added something I had never felt about or said to any of my assignments, “And I’m not telling you to do this because it’s some duty of mine as guide, I’m telling you that you have to go and find help because I... because I love you.”
She glanced back up at me and then quickly back down at her shoes.
“Listen. I mean... whatever... don’t take that the wrong way... but yeah... I mean it. The laws of the universe – the laws of the drama – just bent in your favor and maybe there’s a reason. Maybe that’s the reason. Maybe there are laws that are deeper. A law of... I don’t know, love or something. Not all sentimental and all that crap. Something else. I don’t know. Whatever. Just don’t go it alone. That’s what I know for certain.”
“Okay.”
“You promise you won’t go it alone?”
“I promise,” she said.
“Whatever. Get out of here.”
“But what do I do about his job? He won’t take time off work.”
“Just explain to him what’s going on.”
“Or maybe... Don’t worry. I think I have a plan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LUX ET ANTHROPOS
Given how well that phase had worked in the past, I was not able to stop worrying. I took a seat on the terrace patio furniture and Lucy ran downstairs.
“Ciao bella.” Gambetti was opening up the porter’s office.174
“Ciao Gambetti.”175
“Oh, Lucy, spetta. C’è un tipo qua fuori che vuole parlare con te. Dice che non è giornalista, ma l’avvocato di tuo babbo.”176
Lucy stopped. “Cazzo. È ceco?”177
“No. Mi sembra che veda bene.”178
“No, cazzo, Gambetti. È della Repubblica Ceca?”179
“Diciamo che c’ha un accento particolare, sì. Ed è biondo, quindi, non so. Direi di sì comunque... In ogni caso...”180
Lucy was no longer listening. Outside Mârek Mikulaštik stood in front of a black limo, parked just in front of the Palazzo. Lucy took a few steps forwards and then backwards and looked from side to side. There was no other exit from the Palazzo Mortimer property than through that front gate. There was only one way forwards.
When Lucy came out the front door, Mikulaštik opened up the back door of the limo and stood to one side. She stopped and folded her arms.
“Good morning, Ms. F
ox.”
“What do you want?”
“If I might kindly ask for you to board vehicle.”
“What do you want?”
A hand reached out from inside the limo and passed a pile of magazines to Mârek. She approached with caution. From Mârek’s hands, Lucy’s own confused and frightened face stared back at her, printed right on the covers of six Italian tabloids – all pictures snapped of her last night or stolen off her Facebook profile.
“Ms. Fox, perhaps you have noticed that this morning there are no paparazzi outside your residence. At great costs, your father’s foundation has purchased, for temporary period of one-day, armistice with tabloids. You are to leave the Italy immediately. No discussion.” He stepped to the side and gestured at the limo.
The back of that car did look comfortable. Heated seats. Leather. There was an Italian lawyer waiting with a pastry and a cappuccino. Further inside, there was another lawyer with a folder, which would, for sure, be full of fake travel documents, and another lawyer holding a piece of luggage, probably already packed with business casual clothing in her size. She looked down at the tabloids and back at the limo.
“Please, Ms. Fox. We have little time.”
She threw the tabloids on the ground and raced down the Janiculum hill. Mikulaštik sighed and got into the backseat.
It’s only a mile and a half From the Janiculum hill to the Trevi fountain, so within eleven minutes, Lucy was already tearing around the corner to Brian’s Starbucks. Looking up at the siren, she decided she needed a moment to figure out what to say. Around the block she found a small alley where the various restaurants all had dumpsters behind their back doors. A short balding and bearded Starbucks employee stood next to a dumpster, lighting up a cigarette.
“Luca.”
He looked up and glared. “Oh, look who it is. Here to gloat more?”
“No, I, no... listen... I feel really bad about what happened. It was a mistake.”
“Wow. Things must be really difficult for you, having to live with such a conscience. I can’t imagine. Poor you.”
“If you found out who murdered Eugenio Galli would they give you your job back?”
He didn’t respond.
“The only people who know why you were fired are me, your boss, and Ludovici. Ludovici’s dead. I’m right here. I haven’t told anybody anything. Here we are. Whatever Ludovici threatened you with is now in the grave with him. Your boss, I imagine, would be willing to reconcile. I’m the only other one who knows about the rest.”
Luca took a heavy drag on his cigarette.
“You weren’t a smoker when I first met you,” said Lucy.
“I smoked that night. I imagine you remember that cigarette?”
“Right. You smoked like an amateur. Now you look like a pro.”
“What do you know about the Galli case?”
“I met the killers last night. They’ll be back. We’ve just got to wait around Palazzo Mortimer and open the door for them when they come.”
“And how do you know they’re the killers?”
“I know.”
“Why do you want my help?”
“Three reasons. First. It couldn’t hurt to have a hand from a former cop, someone who knows what he’s doing. Second. Well. I can’t say I feel great about what happened to you. Sure, it felt great to win, but afterwards, I’m sorry about... you know. Third. I need Brian’s help. I need Brian around the palazzo. I need all hands on deck. You know he’s not right for this store. You need to get him a few days off or something.”
“It’s too late to get him just a few days off. He’ll be fired this morning.”
“What?”
“Actually, right now, I think he’s having a nice chat with the manager.”
“He’s getting fired right now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Listen. I’m willing to help you, if you really know what you’re talking about. I’m sorry it had to happen this way. But if you are up for it, sure, I am interested in helping. Brian... well... listen... you can imagine that I have been looking for pithy ways to get revenge at you. For a while I wanted to do something great, but the opportunity has not presented itself, so I thought the only way to seek for revenge at you was to procure Brian’s getting fired. Let’s say, he has been caught sneaking cash from the register.”
“Really?”
“No, not really, but I’ve set him up. Come on.”
“Oh... okay, like ‘caught’ stealing from the register.”
“Correct.”
“That’s great. That’s perfect. I mean, that sucks for Brian, and all. I feel bad for the guy, but it works.”
“So you see how ridiculous my revenge plot is,” Luca laughed at himself. “I do something mean to Brian to get revenge at you and I find out that I only – how do you say? – beat you to the punch.” He flicked his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. “You sure sound like a great friend to Brian.”
“It’s not like that. You understand why I’m doing this.”
“Sure. I understand your calculations. They’re cruel, but I get it. Anyways, let me know how I can help with the investigation.”
Luca went back into the store and Brian came out looking very distraught. He dropped his backpack on the ground, pulled out a green apron, and threw it in the dumpster. He picked his backpack up and only then realized that someone was standing there watching him.
“Oh… hey Lucy… what the hell are you doing back here? You’re not going to believe what just happened to me. Wait… what’s going on? Why are you back here?”
“Brian, I need your help.”
“Wait a second. Did you… oh my God… Fricking Judas Iscariot herself.”
“Are you kidding me?” At Brian’s words, Lucy put her hand up to her heart, feeling an intense and sudden anger seethe through it. She gave up any intention of seeking Brian’s help. “Is that what you think of me?”
“Did you just get me fired from my job?”
“Do you think I did?”
“I don’t get it, Lucy, it’s a very simple question. Did you just get me fired from my job?”
“Oh, your job. Your job! Great, you’ve got a job! Well, what about your life. Huh? Life itself is in danger at the Palazzo, and you don’t give a shit.”
“Lucy,” Brian tried to be calm and clear, “did you just stab me in the back and get me fired?”
“Is that what you think of me? Judas Iscariot. Is that all I am to you?”
“What the hell is wrong with you? I just don’t get it.”
“Don’t try to take the moral high ground,” she raised her voice. “You just called me something, and I want to know if that’s what you really think about me. Judas Iscariot. Just my sinner friend. That’s all I am to you.”
“I’m not going to let you get all philosophical on a very simple argument. This is not about ideas, this is about you being an ass to me, Lucy.”
“Oh, give me a break.” Lucy put her hands on her hips and walked back and forth. “Whether I did or didn’t doesn’t matter. The point is that those words sounded pretty damn easy coming out of your lips. How long had they been sitting there? You think I’m a sinner. Fine. But if I’m Judas, then what does that make you? You think you’re some kind of Christ figure. Don’t you? You’ve got the whole Year of Mercy on your team. You get to walk around with your nose in the air, carrying around your Rahner books, dispensing mercy to poor sinners like me. Isn’t that what you think? Isn’t that all I am to you? You use me to be better than everyone else.”
“What does this have to do with you getting me fired? Be real for a second. If anyone has a right to be pissed it’s me.”
“You’re using me. If you’ve got a Christ complex, then that means you’ve got to keep a Mary Magdalene around, doesn’t it? But y’know what? At least Jesus drove out her demons. He didn’t just keep her around so that he could feel better about himself around his Pharisee friends. Isn’t th
at it? You go to the Greg and look down on the other Americans and their scholastic manuals, because you’re full of mercy, and they’re not. Y’know what. I know what your mercy looks like. And if that’s all the mercy you have to offer, then you’re the biggest Pharisee of ’em all.”
“Mercy and pharisees aside for a second, you still haven’t answered the question. Did you steal from my register and get me fired?”
“Yeah, I did. And I’m glad I did.”
“I can’t believe you,” Brian was barely able to whisper. His mouth was open and it looked like he was on the verge of tears. “You scheming and manipulating little bitch.”
“I can’t believe you,” Lucy whispered back, hurt. She finally said something close to the real reason why she was angry. “Last night I was this close to death, and you don’t give a shit. Don’t you get it? They tried to kill me, I narrowly escaped, and you could care less.”
“Wait, what?” said Brian.
“Don’t act like you care all of the sudden.”
“Lucy, what happened?”
She was already running away down the alley.
“Lucy!”
She ran as fast as her legs would take her, taking random turns at every street corner, not even really sure where she was after five minutes. She’s incredible at distances, but she’s not much of a sprinter. At a certain point she doubled over next to a dumpster to catch her breath. She saw a can and kicked it, launching it down the street. It smacked straight into a car’s bumper in an explosion of expired apricot jelly. She ducked into an empty alley to get away from other people’s stares and the car alarm. The anger left quickly enough, but was replaced by a deep emptiness. She had not really gotten him fired, but it felt like she may as well have. She did her best to distract herself and tell herself she was right. She had said all the correct words.
“Brian was wrong, and I am right. I have nothing to be ashamed of!” she yelled at an empty crate. “This is not my fault. None of it.”
The box remained silent and stared back.
The pit of guilt in her stomach did not go away. She looked at the box and felt the temptation to sit down and cry, but yelled even more loudly at the box, “No. Now is not the time for that. I have nothing to feel bad about.”