by J. J. McAvoy
The darkness didn’t come.
Instead, there was a single beam of sunlight that peeked through the curtains in an attempt to blind me.
I had woken up at almost two hours ago.
I rose from my bed and moved towards the curtains.
With a view like this, why am I looking at her place?
Was she even there?
“What am I thinking?” I didn’t care where she was. She could go back home if she wished… Shit, Alfred.
I needed to keep her here for now.
For Alfred’s sake at least…
Walking towards my closet I paused. It was strange to see everything so neatly organized. Shaking my head I changed into a pair of running shoes and a windbreaker. I grabbed my phone, keys, and wallet as I left the house.
It was warmer than I thought but the wind wouldn’t let up.
Behind the stairs, on the opposite side of the garage, was a vintage yellow bike with a brown basket in the front and wooden panels on the back tires. I walked past it and up the red brick path which cut through the grass towards the cabin guest house.
“Roses?” I reached out to touch the flowers that were hanging from the windowsill when all of a sudden I looked up to find her staring back at me. She was wrapped in a quilt and her hair was a tangled mess around her face, making it seem as though she was attempting to impersonate a lion.
“Jesus…!” I hollered as I instinctively jumped back. “ESTHER!”
She glanced down at the roses and then back at me and grinned before she unlocked the window. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly did I scare you?”
I inhaled deeply, trying to calm down, but that smug look on her face was rather annoying. “Did you lose your brush or are you trying to contact aliens via your hair?”
“Say what you want but this right here is the look of a genius.”
“The line between genius and madness is a thin one. Are you sure you didn’t cross it by mistake?” I snickered as her eyes narrowed in on me.
“Can I help you, Mr. Lord? I’m very busy creating this generation’s greatest novel.”
Is this what she’d been doing since yesterday? “Are you sure you’re up to it, Dickens?”
“Well, I see you just wanted to bother me so goodbye—”
“Get dressed, I’m hungry,” I told her as I stretched.
She leaned on the window seal resting her chin on her palm. “And this is my problem how?”
Must she fight me on this? “I don’t know where the diner you get the food from is.”
“Oh, well the name is—”
“I don’t know what you order.”
“I’ll call Pete.”
“Who’s Pete?”
“Who else would be Pete when we’re talking about the diner?”
“Esther, I don’t do well with people. Won’t it look bad for your little blog if people think I’m an asshole?”
“You are an asshole though!”
“Even assholes have to eat…ha…” The sight of her laughing as she leaned out the window proved too comical, and unable to help myself I joined in with her laughter.
She paused and her expression darkened. “Did you call the fansite I created for your work currently standing at over two million people, ‘my little blog?’” she asked as she stood up straight and allowed the quilt to slip off her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, I can’t answer questions with your hair like that.” I snickered again.
“Fine! I’ll change and then we can fight properly—”
“Is anyone out there?” I spoke into my hand, glanced up, and then lifted my hands to her face as if she were a radio antenna. “Esther, turn your head to the side, the reception is bad.”
“Urgh! You…You’re like a four-year-old!” She slammed the windows shut and I grinned as I reached out to touch the roses.
“Silk.” She’d planted silk roses, below her window…in the fall. It made no sense, but then again Esther made no sense to me anyway so why not just roll with it. They were so red, almost blood red. They remind me of…reaching up to touch the scar over my eye, I tried to ignore the burning irritation of it. But the memories were fighting their way to the forefront. I didn’t want to fall into that darkness again.
Ah…
May 12th 1781 - Guanajuato, New Spain
“Just one?” The woman asked as she cut the flower for me.
Smiling I nodded as I lifted the single pink rose from the bouquet, then as I reached into my trousers for my money, I found nothing but a hole in my pocket.
“Carlos, it’s only one flower. Go.”
“Are you sure—?”
“Do I look hungry to you?” she asked and I grinned, knowing that she was poking fun at herself.
Instead of replying, I offered her my gratitude as I turned and made my way further up the tapering cobblestoned alley. The red and yellow walls of the surrounding apartments flagged my sides and I soon came to a stop outside my door. I glanced up to her balcony, unable to stop myself from smiling. I would have stood there dazed if other people hadn’t started to come up. Walking up the stairs, I entered my apartment and immediately went to my balcony and stepped outside. She was so close…one small leap and I’d be with her.
“Soon, beloved,” I whispered as I placed the rose on the rail of her balcony.
“How soon?”
I looked up to find her leaning in the doorway. Her wavy, dark brown hair fell to her shoulders and as she looked at me with those beautiful eyes of hers, she wrapped her arms around herself and stepped outside. Taking the rose, she lifted it and inhaled its scent.
“How much longer, Carlos? Let’s go. Let’s run away now.”
I opened my mouth to speak when I heard a deep voice call out. “Ana? Ana, where are you?”
Her eyes widened and I rushed back into my apartment watching as she spun around so quickly that the rose slipped from her hand and fell to the street below.
“Are you okay?”
Snapping out of it, I backed away from the flowers.
“Malachi?”
At the sound of her voice, I turned to find her dressed in dark, tight jeans, brown boots, and a thick, red knit sweater. Her hair…I don’t know what she’d done but moments ago it was everywhere and now she’d turned it into a mass of beautiful curls that rested just past her shoulders.
“How long have I been standing here?”
She frowned as she moved closer to me and leaned in. “Were you having another recollection? You only touch your scar when you’re getting like that.”
She’d noticed? For the most part I forgot it was there.
“I’m fine. You ready?”
She nodded. “Sorry it took me so long.”
I glanced down at my watch…I’d been standing there in a daze for more than half an hour. This is why I hated being aware of the time. The moment I knew it, I knew how long I’d just lost fighting my own mind.
“Malachi.”
“Yes.” I looked to her. “On second thought I’m just going to have coffee—”
“Oh no, you don’t. You promised food, there will be food. Come on…wait were you planning on walking there?” she asked as she glanced down at my clothes.
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll take my bike. I only run on the threat of death.”
“Wait, what?” I asked following her as she moved to her bike. “On threat?”
“Yep.” She mounted the bike and leaned to one side. “In New York we have this magic power. We just stick our hands out and all of sudden a car will arrive and take you anywhere you need to go.”
“Your sarcasm has been noted.”
She grinned and kicked off. “Come catch up or else!”
“Or else what?!”
“Or else I’ll wake you up at three a.m. just for the heck of it!”
I knew she wasn’t kidding. Shaking my head I took off down the road after her as she stood up in her seat and pedaled as hard as she could, causing
the wind to blow right through her brown curls.
Just like that, I forgot about my scar again.
11. THE GOOD PEOPLE
MALACHI
“Are you doing okay back there?”
I turned around and watched as she glared at me. She’d pedaled as hard as she could when I started to catch up with her and now after almost twenty-five minutes as we neared the edge of town she was breathing harder than me. “I think you commented about me being out of shape a few days ago?”
“How are you barely sweating?” She stopped and allowed her boots to touch the pavement on the shoulder lane of the road.
“I run often and usually much further than this.” And much faster but there was no need to make her feel worse.
“Since when? You’ve been a hermit since I came here. The people in town call you the Hunchback of Notre Dame.”
I stared at her completely baffled, a look that she mistakenly took as offense and this time her tone was softer.
“And I told them that was very rude and that you just had a cold.”
“I wasn’t offended.”
“You sure?” She leaned over the handlebars eyeing me carefully. “Because your mouth is saying ‘I don’t care’ but your face is saying ‘what the hell?’”
“How perceptive of you. But both my face and my mouth, as it is on my face, are saying exactly that: I don’t care. I’m baffled because people think the Disney version of the Hunchback is cannon. Victor Hugo was the only one who got one of our stories correct.”
Her mouth dropped open and she looked at me with her big brown eyes ready to unleash a river of tears.
“That was you too?!” She gasped pitifully. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Seriously. Which is why I am not offended.” How could I be? I actually was the Hunchback of Notre Dame. “Disney actually offends me more. They changed the whole story to make it a happy ending, not even a happy ending for Quasimodo, but for Phoebus de Châteaupers, who was the reason Esmeralda was hung. And he didn’t save her when he could have. He watched her die instead and married his fiancée, whom he was with the whole time. That was who Disney made her true love. The Hunchback can’t have the pretty girl even though he’s a good guy because he’s still a monster, so instead he gets a standing ovation from the city. He didn’t need the city, he needed her. So screw Disney and their happily ever afters.”
“Okay, then,” she whispered as she hopped off the bike and walked beside me. Now I was annoyed. I didn’t mean to come off so heavy-handed but…but I couldn’t stand that movie. I couldn’t stand the mockery of it all.
I could tell she was lost in thought. She was quiet. She didn’t stay anything; the only sound came from her bike as the tires spun. This was the reason I didn’t like people either, they didn’t understand. No one understood…no one but her. And I couldn’t go to her.
In town, we walked past the police station. There, four squad cars were parked in the parking lot where a group of officers with their coffee cups stood laughing loudly. One of their faces had gone red and they were completely unaware of us until she yelled, “Good morning, Cobie! Mornin’, Bo!”
Their heads snapped up. One of them—Cobie or Bo—leaned forward to see who we were before he smiled and lifted his coffee cup to her. He was much older than the other boy beside him.
“Morning, Esther!”
“You coming to the festival tonight?” the other yelled.
Esther nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be there!”
The first one gave her a thumbs up as the younger one called out— “Mornin’! Were you supposed to meet Joanna yesterday?”
“Crap!” She looked ready to run. “Did she go to her daughter-in-law’s already? Was anyone able to help her?”
“Yeah, they said…”
I stopped listening. Daughter-in-laws? Joanna? Pete? Cobie and Bo? Who the hell were these people and how was she so close to them already?
Honk.
Honk.
Another squad car turned into the station and stopped right beside us. Inside the face of a familiar fake smiling blond whose name I couldn’t remember, stared at us. Next to him sat a red-headed female officer with freckles all over her white nose.
“Hey, David. Hi, Murphy.”
Great, more irrelevant names.
“Esther, the connoisseur.”
The what now?
“Oooo…” The woman beside mocked. “You’re using big words there, David, connoisseur.”
“Shut it, Murph.” He snapped at her.
She ignored him and leaned forward and waved at me. “Hi. I’m Murphy Daniels. Are you the infamous Malachi?”
“Hunchback and all,” I replied emotionlessly causing Esther to elbow me in the rib.
David shook his head. “Don’t take it personally—”
“It is personal though.” I cut in and Esther hung her head as if she were about to die of embarrassment.
“David, Murphy, we’re going to catch a bite eat, you know those snickers commercials?”
The what?
“The ones where Betty White gets tackled?” The redhead asked and then laughed. “I love that one.”
“Yeah, he’s in Betty White mode right now. We’ll see you at the festival.”
What mode?
And when did I sign up for a festival?
It was like I’d walked into a parallel universe.
“Okay, I’ll save you a seat.” David nodded to her and nodded to me. “Nice to see you out, Mr. Lord.”
I was about to tell him the truth when Esther interrupted. “See you! I’m so excited!”
“I bet it’s nothing like the city but I hope you like it.” He winked at her and drove inside towards the other cars.
She waited until we walked a few feet before smacking my arm. “Try to act like you don’t hate people, please.”
“I don’t hate people though.” I just didn’t want to know them.
She sighed deeply. “Two steps forward, seven steps back. They are good people, Malachi—”
“You barely know them. I’ve met a lot of people, the good ones are very hard to find.”
“Then be one!” She snapped as she marched off.
I wanted to tell her I’d tried that too. I’d tried being one of the good ones but it never worked out well. If she lived long enough or at least saw the history of people unfold, she’d know it was the villains who ran the world. Part of me thought to become the villain then…but the more rational part of me wondered if this was my hell, if I was doomed to live, love, die and repeat for all time, what in the hell was fate?
It was fear that kept me from ever getting to that stage.
ESTHER
“Here you go. One Wake Me Up for Esther and one Big Man for…you. What’s your name again?” Pete asked Malachi as he placed the plate of bacon, ham, sausage, and hash browns in front him. But Malachi…he wasn’t there. He was sitting in front of me. I could see him; we could all see him. But in his eyes I could see that he was in another world…in another memory or at least getting there. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want to make a scene but if it was as bad as last time…he’d be on the ground soon. And I’d have no way to keep him from the hospital or the gossip.
“It’s Malachi. Thanks, Pete.” I smiled.
Pete nodded at me before he glanced back over his shoulder towards his wife, Millie, who was in the back awkwardly staring at Malachi as if he were…a hunchback. Reaching over to him I put my hand on his wrist and squeezed tightly.
“Malachi, please,” I whispered softly. “Whatever it is…it’s already happened. Wake up. Malachi…Malachi.”
He blinked a few times before his clear blue eyes focused on me. He grimaced as he reached up to touch his scar. It took him a second to figure out that we were at the diner and when he did he glanced around and those who’d been staring quickly looked away, making it obvious they had been staring at him to begin with.
Picking up his fork he hunched over the plate and
hid his face.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed—”
“I run at night,” he whispered as he looked up. “Somewhere between one and three in the morning. I go running because normal people would be sleeping at that time—you’re sleeping at that time. But it’s the only time I don’t have to stay in my safe zone. I don’t watch television, or read the news, or travel more than twenty miles from where I’m living at the time. I avoid eye contact with those around me. Why? Because knowing that I might one day see her scares me. And now that I know who and where she is, the pain isn’t so bad anymore, but I can’t control the memories.”
He lifted his index finger to the poster hanging right beside my head. It was a Native American woman who stood on the mountains with a staff in her hands, looking over the forest. Pete was half Cree and Crow Indian so the imagery fit in perfectly with the theme of the diner.
“Your life as a native American?”
He nodded. “She was too. But from another tribe that was at war with mine. I was brought as a captive, wounded. In that life, her father’s axe gave me this.” He tapped his face. “In every life, through some circumstance I get this scar. In that life, just as I woke, and all the memories came back she was already the one tending to me. She said she remembered the moment she saw me. We spoke for an hour. We reunited for an hour before my tribe attacked and she and I both died. One hour, can you believe that?”
He snickered bitterly as he lifted a piece of bacon to his lips.
“Malachi…”
“You don’t have to look for the words. No one ever has the words. I don’t want your pity. Honestly, I don’t know what I want…I feel like…never mind.”
“No, tell me.” I reached for my fork too.
He forced himself to smile. “Are you my therapist now?”
“I’m your friend.”
His eyebrow raised. “Friend?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “You annoy me sometimes…a lot of the time actually. You’re stubborn, and you always know what to say to get right under my skin. But…you…you are both friend and family. I know my grandpa cares about you a lot too. Sometimes I would get a little jealous when you would make a bestsellers list. Grandpa always mutters under his breath ‘that’s my boy.’ It made me work harder. I’m a tad bit competitive.”