Tuttle-TirNanOg.html

by Tirnanog(Lit)

  existence of a spring-fed fountain mentioned in one of the books we were going

  to publish. You had so little notion of what a book-editor did, and, really, so

  little interest, that you believed what I said without question. I didn't ask

  what you'd told your wife.

  At first it was like old times. The strain that had been between us disappeared,

  and we laughed a lot and touched each other as you drove us out of the city in

  the freshness of early morning. But the farther I got from the city and the

  world I knew, the more uneasy I felt. What was I doing? I'm a good walker, but

  only in the city, when there is some point to it, things to look at, places

  worth going to. I don't like the country. It bores me and it makes me nervous;

  okay, there have to be farms, and places for wild animals and plants, but I

  don't see the point of it for me. As for this magic fountain -- did it follow

  that because I believed in romantic love I'd also believe in magic? I wasn't

  Janet --what sort of desperation had made me believe in her magical fountain?

  Naturally, I took it out on you. Your enthusiasm began to irritate me. What were

  you getting so excited about? A walk in the country? I didn't like hiking, why

  didn't you know that? You wanted me to be something I wasn't; you would have

  preferred someone else. Before long and I'm sure to your complete mystification

  we were arguing.

  By the time we reached the place where Janet had indicated we should leave the

  car, we were barely speaking to each other. You cheered up a little once you

  were out of the car, lacing on your new Danish hiking boots and inhaling the

  clean, cool air, but I felt an undissolved lump of dread sitting heavily in my

  stomach. But I was determined to go through with it now. I couldn't imagine how

  getting you to drink some water would result in my feeling better, but I would

  try.

  I am a good walker in the city, but I wasn't used to hills, or to pathways

  slippery with pine needles, damp leaves, loose rocks. Nor could I keep up the

  pace you set. I had to keep stopping to catch my breath; I had to keep calling

  you back. At first solicitous, you quickly became impatient.

  "If we don't get amore on we won't even make the summit before dark, let alone

  get back down to the car again."

  "We don't need to go to the summit," I pointed out. The idea filled me with

  exhausted horror. "Just to the fountain, and that shouldn't be much farther, as

  far as I can make out from this map..." Squinting at it, it occurred to me that

  scale was not Janet's strong point.

  You were as baffled by me as I was by you. What was the point of going only

  halfway up a mountain? "Come on, it's not that hard a climb."

  "But I don't want to go to the top." I couldn't keep the irritating whine out of

  my voice. "Will, I'm worn out already. I want to stop at the fountain and have a

  picnic and a rest before we go back."

  Your face began to cloud, but then it cleared. "Okay. You stay at the fountain

  and rest. I'll climb to the summit alone and then come back for you."

  I didn't like the idea much, but sometimes you have to compromise.

  We reached the fountain a few minutes later. First we heard the cool, gurgling

  sound of water, and then we found the source, hidden beneath a curtain of ferns

  and ground-ivy. I pulled back some of the greenery to reveal the smooth rim of a

  stone bowl that caught the water flowing up from underground. There was a

  channel that sent the overflow spilling into a small, bright stream that raced

  away over a rocky bed down the hillside.

  "Want a drink?" I asked.

  "From that?" You frowned.

  "Better than recycled city water," I tempted. "This is exactly the sort of stuff

  that gets bottled and sold to people like you in restaurants."

  "I might try it when I come back. I don't want to stop just now. You'll be all

  right?"

  "What about our picnic?"

  You sighed. "The sooner I go, the sooner I'll be back. You can eat some of this

  stuff while you're waiting for me, if you want. I'll just take a candy bar and

  my water flask." Then you dropped a kiss on my head, determined not to be caught

  and delayed by anything as time-consuming as a real embrace.

  For a while, I sulked, counting the minutes, wondering how long it would take

  you to get there and back again. I wished I'd brought a book. With nothing else

  to occupy me, I poked around the fountain, uncovering more of it from the

  encroaching plants. I scraped away the furry moss and found a figure carved in

  bas-relief: a cat, it looked like. Then there were markings that might have been

  writing, but the letters appeared to be Greek, which I can't read. It could have

  been graffiti left by fraternity boys from Syracuse or Cornell.

  I was thirsty. The trill of water made the feeling worse. I fetched my little

  plastic bottle of Evian and drank half of it. More out of boredom than hunger I

  ate lunch, and finished off the Evian. Then I filled the bottle from the spring:

  my insurance in case I couldn't get you to drink in situ. Then I sat down in the

  sun with my back against a rock and waited for you.

  I fell asleep and woke disoriented, hot and dry-mouthed. I thought that someone

  had been watching me and laughing, but that was only the music of the fountain,

  I was still alone, and really thirsty. I reached for the Evian bottle and then

  stopped, remembering that I had refilled it from the fountain. I licked dry lips

  and looked at my watch, which turned out to have stopped some hours earlier. The

  battery had been running down all day and I hadn't noticed except to think how

  slowly time was passing.

  Where were you? I felt as if I had been sleeping for hours. What if you had

  fallen and hurt yourself, what if something awful had happened? I called your

  name, but the sound of my own voice echoing off the rocks in the empty air gave

  me the creeps. I advised myself to sit quietly and wait for you. If only I

  wasn't so thirsty!

  It was late September and the day was pleasantly cool, but the sun blazed down,

  making me hot. I wondered if I could be suffering from sunstroke. I plunged my

  hands and arms up to the elbow in the fountain to cool myself, and dabbed water

  on my face. I had never been so thirsty in my life. What if I just wet my lips?

  But I needed a drink.

  I longed for you to come back and save me with the dull, flat, safe city water

  in your flask. But you didn't come and didn't come and finally I couldn't bear

  my thirst any longer and I drank.

  That was the best water I ever tasted. I drank and drank until my stomach felt

  distended. I felt content and at peace with the universe, without worries. I was

  no longer thirsty and no longer too hot. The sun felt good. The smooth rock

  where I had rested before was still warm with the sun, so I curled up there and

  went to sleep.

  I was awakened by the sound of you calling my name. I opened my eyes and

  stretched, and you turned and looked straight at me, but the worry didn't leave

  your face, and you didn't stop calling. Were you blind? I got down and went over

  and pressed myself against you.

  "Well, hello. Where'd you come from?" You be
gan to stroke me. "Have you seen my

  girlfriend? I guess she got fed up waiting and decided to hike back to the car

  alone. Only, if she did that, why'd she leave her stuff?"

  I wanted to explain, but no matter how I purred and cried and stropped myself

  against your legs, you just didn't get it. Are women more intuitive than men, or

  what? I followed you to your car but you wouldn't have me.

  One of the sheriff's men took me home with him after a day spent searching the

  mountainside for me. You did the decent thing, regardless of the trouble it

  would make for you, and reported me missing.

  After many adventures I made my way back to Manhattan, and to Washington Square,

  and Lecia's little apartment. I don't think she recognized me; at any rate, she

  shooed me off with a shocking lack of compassion. I hung around anyway, to give

  her another chance. Maybe she'd put together my reported disappearance with the

  sudden appearance of a strange cat. I found a position on a fire-escape which

  gave me a view into her living-room window, and I hunkered down and waited. As

  soon as I saw her getting ready to go out I'd make for her door and strop her

  ankles and purr like an engine. She wouldn't be able to resist me forever. So

  she had a cat already; why shouldn't she have two?

  I watched and waited and finally, after moonrise, I saw James the cat turn, in

  the magic circle of Lecia's arms, into the man who was her lover.

  Finally I understood the secret of the fountain, and knew that my only hope was

  to find you. If you want me, you can have me again. For you, I've left the city.

  For you, I'll live in the suburbs. By day; I'll be the family cat. But at night,

  in your arms, secretly, while your wife sleeps unknowing, I'll be your lover.

  You can make me change, if only you want me.