The Opening

by Ron Savarese

  The shadow is angry. His breath comes in spurts. “You didn’t pay attention to me Joe. Hell, most of the time you didn’t even know I was there. You ignored me. You buried me. All I wanted was for you to notice me. But it had to come to this—so unnecessary—so unnecessary. I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a deal, Joe. I’ll get you out of that hole in the snow,” he says. “But if I get you out, you have to promise to keep feeding me—promise me you will. Do we have a deal?”

  I swing my fist at his mouth this time. “Get away from me you son of a bitch. If I get out of that cave alive, the only thing I promise is to never listen to you again. I’ll change my ways. You’ll see. I’m the master of my life, not you. You’ll never influence me again. I’ll do whatever it takes to silence you. Do you hear me, you bastard?”

  I swing again and the overcoat wraps around my arm. Then the thing disappears as my head slams against the hard, frozen wall of the cave. I cup my hands over my face and cry.

  I look for the light. I look for the Shadow. But nothing is there: just me, and the cold dark night.

  THE LIGHT PLACE

  I hear Walt’s voice and the white surrounds me again.

  “Maybe you were right, Joe. Maybe it wasn’t all that way. But you always had to have an angle didn’t you? Always had to get what you wanted. But it’s never enough is it? Not when your shadow is in charge. You know, Jessica was the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  Another scene flashes before me: The sultry end-of-summer days fly by until the first early signs of autumn signal winter’s inevitable return. It’s a warm and breezy late August day. It seems longer than just six weeks since Jessica and I met. We walk the narrow path of a steep embankment that leads to a beach behind the North Shore Boat Club. We make our way through tall grass and leafy trees. I hold Jessica’s hand and guide her over small rocks and knobby roots. I show her where to place her feet and how to grab each branch so she won’t fall.

  This is my path, my territory, my place. I know it by heart. I know every twist and turn. Jessica is impressed—I think—but she doesn’t let on. Not yet anyway; she’s still watching me, watching to see if I’m real. Jessica isn’t the first girl I’ve taken to this spot, but I don’t mention that today.

  The lake is rough. Whitecaps slap at the brown rocks of the uneven break wall. Cool water splashes in our face. Jessica laughs and grabs my arm. We walk hand in hand, stepping over cracks and crevices of the jagged blockade. Jessica says she’s afraid of rats. I laugh, and tell her not to worry: They’re not very big, I say, and even so, I’ll protect you.

  She smiles. We stop on a concrete embarkment that juts about twenty yards into the water. We walk to the middle. I lead. She follows. Still hand in hand. We get to the end of the embarkment and look out at the water. The sun is still high in the sky, but is beginning its descent into the horizon. The sunset on the water will be magnificent tonight if the wispy indigo clouds cooperate.

  I point to a large cargo ship, barely visible, far out on the rim. It’s probably carrying coal to Canada, I tell her. I snuggle up close behind Jessica and wrap my arms around her waist. She drops her hands onto mine. I kiss the back of her neck. She purrs as she relaxes her head and lets it fall back onto my shoulder. A warm heat rises from deep inside me. She turns. We embrace. The warmth spreads like fire. We kiss. The fire burns all the way to my heart.

  It’s dusk. The sun is down. We’re the only ones on the beach. Dim strands of watermelon colored light cling to the last remnants of day on the horizon. We sit on a worn cotton blanket on lumpy sand close to the surf, gentle now that the wind has died down. Jessica says she’s getting chilly. She snuggles close to me and we fall back onto the blanket into each other’s arms. We kiss again: this time, a deep, sensual, passionate kiss.

  She pulls away and looks into my eyes.

  “I didn’t want to fall in love with you,” she says.

  I pull her close, kiss her mouth and run my hand ever so slightly over her breasts, across her stomach and down the outside of her thigh, to her knee, and then up to the button on her shorts. She grabs my hand. “No,” she says, “Someone might see us.”

  I take a breath.

  “Don’t worry, its dark now—there’s no one around.” I fumble around for that button again.

  Jessica grabs my hand, rolls on top of me and bites my neck. She sits up gently on my stomach, supporting herself with her knees, resting her hands on my shoulders.

  “We had an agreement,” she says. “Just friends, remember? I’m way beyond that now, Joe, but I leave in a few weeks. I start my new job the middle of September. What about you? What are you going to do? If you take that job in New York, what’s going to happen to us?”

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to say anything. Can’t we just have this time together? Why do girls have to have some kind of commitment? I reach up and slide my fingers through her silky, fragrant hair. I pull her face close to mine, and kiss her again. “Can’t we talk about that later,” I say.

  She pulls away, lifts herself up on her knees again, and playfully pummels me on my shoulders with her fists. “I’m falling in love with you, Joe,” she says. “I didn’t want this to happen. The last thing I wanted was to fall in love on my summer vacation with a guy I barely know.”

  I tickle her lightly under her arms. She giggles.

  “Oh come on—we’ve been going out for almost two months, we know each other pretty well by now,” I say.

  “You’re just a drifter at heart aren’t you?” she says, “You’ve got three offers on the table and you haven’t made up your mind yet. You don’t know what you want to do.”

  I sit up. “What do you mean? I know exactly what I want to do. I’m going to make a lot of money and be a huge success. I see it already. Hey, come on, we can stay in touch and visit each other on weekends once in a while until we get settled.”

  We lay side by side now. I rest my chin on my hand and look at her. Jessica tucks her hair behind her ear. “Oh right. A long distance relationship. How long do you think that’ll last?”

  I run my hand over her shoulder, down the curve of her hip, and let it slide around to the small of her back. “Hey, we’re young. We’ve got lots of options. You could come with me. With your pedigree, you could get a job with any P.R. firm in the country.”

  “Yeah right,” she says, “I’m going to follow some guy I just met all around the country until he figures out what to do with his life. My folks would love that.”

  Jessica and I roll onto our backs and look at the sky. The stars reveal themselves one by one as the black of night sets in. The Big Dipper is barely visible. Jessica touches my hand and rubs the tops of my fingers. We lay quietly for a long time looking into the sky and listening to the waves and the crickets. Then Jessica turns to me and speaks softly.

  “The stars are so beautiful tonight. Aren’t they Joe?”

  “Yes, they are,” I say.

  Jessica softly squeezes my hand. Then she murmurs, “Have you ever heard the Eskimo proverb about the stars?”

  “What’s that?”

  “It says: Perhaps they’re not stars, but rather openings in heaven, where the love of our lost ones pours through, and shines down upon us to let us know they’re happy.”

  I drift away for a moment. What a beautiful thought. What a beautiful girl. I’m inside the cup of The Big Dipper, and I think about my family. I wonder where they are. I hadn’t thought about them all day. That hasn’t happened in a long time. I must really like this girl. I might as well admit it. I knew it the first time I looked in her eyes. “Hey, how do you know so much about Eskimo proverbs,” I ask.

  “I took a course my last semester in college on native American cultures. It was really cool.”

  I like this girl. I really do. I roll onto my side and rest my hand on her hip. I run my fingers under her shirt to her bare tummy. I kiss her softly and hold her close and whisper in her ear. “I love you, Jessica.”

 
I breathe in the scent of her hair and skin and I swear rose petals are falling out of the stars. “I don’t say those words too often, and I know we just met, but I want to be with you.”

  Jessica pulls me close. “I love you too Joe. And I want to be with you.”

  I hear the gentle swishing of the waves on the shore. We wrap the blanket around us. I fumble around for that button again. And this time, she doesn’t stop me.

  ALBERT

  Albert was in trouble. Paul called to tell me. Several years after college, after I had left my hometown and set out to make my way in the world I received the call. Albert had gotten mixed up with a group of dead-beat guys, Paul said. That meant Albert had gotten involved with guys who were using drugs and getting high. Nothing too heavy. A little grass and stuff. Just passing time, he said, but still, they were a bunch of losers.

  I was busy with my own life. I had just been promoted to a new position in the firm and I was traveling a lot. Jessica and I were married and our first child was on the way. There was no time to do anything for or about Albert. I told Paul there wasn’t much I could do from where I was and I asked him to do what he could, but I knew Paul had distanced himself from Albert years ago. The days of our youth were gone forever. There’s only so much one can do for another person. At some point along the way we each have to follow our own paths. And Albert’s path led him to a strange place. A place his family couldn’t understand. So they didn’t get involved.

  On the few occasions when I did get back to my hometown I tried to talk to Albert. But time and distance and growing up have a way of changing our trajectories. Albert had already built his walls around his new world—his new friends. At least he had a group to hang with. Even if they were a bad influence.

  And although I pretended he was okay, that he had found a home with the misfits and dropouts, I knew deep down he was in trouble. But I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to help him. So I didn’t do anything.

  1995

  Jessica walked in from the rain carrying a stack of mail. She told me earlier that morning she hadn’t been down to the street to get the mail in three days—more than likely the result of her planning and coordinating the small group of friends who got together at our house to celebrate my forty-seventh birthday the night before. She placed the mail on the kitchen counter. She grabbed the edge of the counter with one hand and raised the other to her forehead. She pressed hard, and rubbed.

  I stood in the corner—a little groggy from too much wine at the celebration last night. She didn’t notice me.

  “What’s the matter baby, another headache?”

  She jumped. Turning towards me she said, “Oh my god—you scared me! I didn’t see you!” She sighed. “Oh, I’m okay—probably just the weather—you know, these rainy days.”

  I walked to her and rubbed her shoulders. “Poor baby—rainy days or too much wine? Anyway, you’ve been getting them pretty often lately. Maybe you should see a doctor.”

  She fumbled through the mail. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m going to my GYN next month. I’ll ask her about it then. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Gee—seems like we’ve been getting a lot of credit card offers lately—doesn’t it?” She scattered the stack of mail on the stone countertop, picking up random pieces, separating them into messy stacks.

  I rolled up the sleeves of my gray sweatshirt—my typical Saturday morning attire—sweatshirt, shorts, and running shoes. “Yeah, I guess they think we have some money,” she said.

  I smiled. “We do.”

  She laughed.

  “Hey, what’s this?” she asked. “I can’t make out the writing very well, but it looks like it’s addressed to you— looks like it’s from Switzerland. Who do you know in Switzerland?”

  She pulled a small thin ivory-colored envelope from the bottom of the stack of letters and magazines and advertisements. The letter was marked “PERSONAL.”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting anything.”

  Jessica held up the envelope and offered it to me. I took the envelope and held it in my hand for a while and looked at it. My name was etched in handwriting that seemed vaguely familiar. I studied it for a few seconds trying to recall where I’d seen the shape and style of the fonts. I didn’t know if I should open it right here or take it into my study and read it in private.

  “Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Jessica asked.

  I pulled the letter to my chest, playfully, trying to have some fun with Jessica—to take her attention away from the throb in her forehead. “But it says ‘personal.’” I narrowed my eyes at her.

  I pretended to walk away from the counter to see how Jessica would respond. But I was only half teasing. I really didn’t want to open the letter in front of her—it might be something I didn’t want her to see. But I didn’t want her to think I was trying to hide something from her, and besides, it was probably just a new-fangled type of direct mail solicitation from an aggressive stock jockey in New York.

  “Oh honey, you’ve got to be kidding me—open it,” she said.

  I worked my finger underneath one of the corners of the flap and tore it open. I took out the folded, heavy-stock, ivory-colored paper. Inside was a handwritten note, barely legible. I stood at the counter and read without looking up at Jessica. What the hell is this? After the second sentence I realized who the note was from. How the hell did she find me?

  Dear Joe,

  I hope this note finds you well. It’s been a long time since we saw each other. That wasn’t a pleasant time for either of us. So much has happened since then I don’t know where to begin. I’ve already said I’m sorry so it seems there are no more words to say about that.

  I’m getting old now and I’ll be leaving this world soon. I’m sure you remember the symbol I gave you—there are three if you recall. I had a dream last night and now I know for certain that you are the one I’m to give them to. There are others who know now. Maybe you’ll find them. I remember what you said that day so I’ll understand if you tear up this note and throw it away and forget about me forever.

  I buried a package near the oak tree next to the rose trellis where the robin used to make its nest. Remember? I know you do. Look for a stone cross. You are the only one who knows where it is.

  Follow the instructions Joe. Fulfill your destiny. I hope you will.

  Love, Ava

  I dropped the note on the counter and stared at it. I’d been transported to another time. I looked at the note but I could’ve just as easily been looking into the center of the Milky Way.

  Jessica had been watching me, quietly. “Who’s it from Joe?”

  Memories surged through me. A rush of heat pressed against my chest and into my head, an anvil dropped from Mount Everest and landed in the center of my gut. I didn’t answer Jessica’s question.

  “What is it Joe?” She placed her hand on my arm.

  I couldn’t think. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t move.

  “Joe, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I had buried the memory of this woman and that strange time in my life somewhere in a cavern under a coral reef off the coast of Australia.

  How did she find me? How does she know where I live?

  I grabbed the edge of one of the high-backed swivel chairs near the counter and fell into it.

  “Joe, what is it?” Jessica put her hand on my shoulder and reached for the note. “Are you okay?”

  I covered the note with my hand then looked up at her.

  “What’s the matter?” Jessica asked. “Who’s it from? What does it say?”

  I put my hand on top of hers. “Oh, Jesse, I think we have to talk.”

  I took Jessica’s hand and lead her into the family room. I guided her to the couch and sat down beside her, turning so I looked straight into her eyes. I know she didn’t know what to think. It seemed as if we had just walked three miles—at least I’ve had ti
me to think about what to say; how to explain the letter; how to frame everything so that she’d understand what this note meant without thinking she’s married to some kind of nut job out of a science fiction movie.

  What am I going to say? Is it fair to Jesse to bring her into this? And do I even want her to know? But I don’t want to hide things from her—where do I begin? I took a deep breath. I looked in her eyes. I waited for the words to come.

  Let me see. When I was young I used to have weird dreams and premonitions. My mother was worried about me so she took me to see a witch doctor. No, that won’t work. How about this: when I was young, I had a math tutor who had a unique way of teaching geometry and— no, that won’t work either. Oh, just go ahead and tell her the truth, she’s your wife for god’s sake.

  “Jesse, I don’t know where to start. This could take all day…”

  It didn’t take all day. But almost. By early evening, I had told Jessica everything I remembered. I dredged up all kinds of stuff that had been buried for years. I told her about the fire dreams and premonitions and the guilt I’d carried all my life because of it. I told her about my mother’s concerns. I told her about the priest. I told her about Ava. I told her about the day at the cemetery. I told her about my memories of my family. And finally, I told her about the strange symbols. I asked her if she thought it was crazy. I asked her if she thought it made any sense at all. I asked her if she thought it was strange.

  We cried, and laughed, and cried some more. Jessica listened and told me about some of her own painful childhood memories. Doesn’t everyone have them, she asked. And yet, in spite of my initial concerns, and much to my surprise, she was empathetic and understanding. By the end of the night, she said she thought some of what I told her was odd, but then continued, “I think you should try to get in touch with this woman. I think you should get the package too.”