Still running, she pounded up the stairs of the subway, and threw herself, gasping, into the cold air. The weather had worsened, drastically, while she was underground. Icy rain now drove into her eyes, stinging her face, and for a moment she felt completely disoriented, until she realized, by the Memorial Arch looming off to her left, that she was right by Washington Square itself.
Unfortunately, she heard the pounding of footsteps fast behind her.
"My Queen!" the old man rasped. "My Queen!"
She whirled away, and sprang away down the sidewalk. But the old man- moving almost inhumanly fast- seized her arm, with an iron grip.
"I only want the best for you!" he bawled into her ear.
"The best," she panted, "would be to let me go-"
She tried desperately to shake him off, but for someone that ancient, he was amazingly strong. "Don't resist! You will join your family now, and isn't that what you always wanted?"
"I told you," she screamed. "In God's name, leave me in peace!"
"God!" He let out a dismal screech, like a crow alighting upon a corpse on the battlefield. "What would you know about God, you thing- you creature- you nothing? Yes- nothing- although you are less than nothing- someone who gave up the bountiful goodness of heaven- for the squalid existence of earth! What can one say of a person like that- except that they are fortunate to grasp what repentance they can? You should be fortunate that I have come for you at all- or else you would have drowned in your profane misery!"
And before she could gasp out another word, he grabbed her by the shoulders and flung her, like she was no more than a rag doll, in front of an oncoming yellow taxi.
She collided with the concrete, the pavement scraping her face and knees, and all the breath was knocked out of her. She tried to roll out of the way, but when she looked up, all she saw was the blinding headlights bearing towards her- like a train in a tunnel, fast approaching-
Just in time, the driver slammed on his brakes, and the massive steel car came screeching to a halt, only a foot away from Susan's face. As she laid there, boneless and gasping like a fish just hauled out of the ocean, the door slammed, and the cab driver scrambled out and ran towards her. As he bent over her, she saw that he was an elderly black man, with a careworn face, salt and pepper hair, and a neat bow tie.
Carefully draping his arms about her, he helped her up. "Thank God I stopped just in time! Miss- you're not hurt, are you?"
Susan was about to croak out some reply, when the old man, still on the sidewalk, started laughing. "I knew it!" he cried. "I knew it. No redemption- no redemption surely for the godless-"
The taxi driver turned abruptly. "You over there!"
The old man froze, staring at the cab driver as if he had seen a ghost.
"Horace- is that your name?"
The old man's entire countenance turned white as death. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, that's right."
"Well now, Horace." The cab driver's voice was a rich, gravelly baritone, with a strong southern twang. She knew, for certain, she had never met him before, but he seemed somehow familiar, as if she had perhaps seen him in passing, somewhere, many years ago...
"I think you should leave this young lady alone. In fact, I think you should leave. Right now."
At that, the old man quivered strangely. His face, looking even more frail and parchment- like than before, even seemed to collapse upon itself. Without another word he turned around and walked away, vanishing into the rain, as if he never had existed.
With that, Susan began to shake, uncontrollably.
"He- he-" Her voice quaked like an old woman's. "He tried to-"
The cab driver patted her on the shoulder, with a large, calloused hand.
"I know. But never mind about him. You'll never have to worry about him again."
She wanted to ask him how he could possibly know that, but she suddenly felt far too tired and overwhelmed to ask. She merely felt reassured, by the presence of this stranger who somehow wasn't a stranger.
"You'll be all right," he rumbled. "You are... where you are supposed to be."
Susan blinked and wiped her nose. "Am I?"
"You certainly are," said the cabbie, firmly and warmly, and she felt herself- usually all stiff, cold and constantly on the defensive- actually smiling at him. Quite a marvelous feeling, that. It was as if- somewhere, deep down, that frozen, miserable knot that had formed inside her, all those years ago, was somehow finally beginning to thaw.
"Just remember," he went on, "who to call on when you need help. Can you remember?"
And as he gazed at her, and she wondered if she could see a tawny glint somewhere, deep in his eyes- that was odder yet.
"Yes," she said slowly. For some reason, an image of her brothers and sister flitted through her mind. She could almost imagine them smiling down on her, at that very moment. "Yes, I.... remember."
"Good." He nodded, smiled again cryptically, and touched his cap. And the strangest of all- she thought she heard him say, as he walked back to his cab-
"Once a queen in Narnia-"
"Always a queen in Narnia," she murmured to herself, and in a perfect daze, wondered back to the sidewalk. The rain was letting up; although her hair was soaked and falling into her eyes. The neat waves of her perm were ruined, and she was sure her perfect red lipstick was smudged and her mascara was streaming down her face- but for once, she didn't care. She did not care in the slightest.
"Susan! Susan, baby- oh God- are you all right?"
And the next thing she knew, she saw Alan, rushing towards her. He wasn't wearing a hat, his Mackintosh was open, and his coat and poorly knotted tie were flapping behind him, but to her, a knight in shining armor couldn't have been more welcome. At the sight of him, she nearly burst into tears.
"Alan, darling, I'm so glad you're here!" She stumbled towards him, taking his wonderfully warm hands, with their ragged nails and ink-stained cuticles. "I can't begin to tell you what's happened. I've had the strangest, most surreal night..."
"Christ!" Alan stared at her, concern and horror written all over his face. "There's bruises on your face!"
"Yes, I know. It's a long story..." She shook her head.
Without another word, he wrapped his arms around her, and she pressed her face into his chest, into the depths of his old wool coat, that smelled of cheap cigarettes and spilled coffee. She could hear his heartbeat- and she thought-
How marvelous it is- to be here, alive, and in my lover's arms. I wouldn't trade anything else, for all the world.
"I can take you home," he whispered. "We don't have to go out-"
"No," she said, smothering a hiccup. She looked up at him intently. "I do want to go out. I should love to go to the bistro. Didn't you say that there's this drummer performing tonight, who used to play with Charlie Parker?"
"Oh yeah! Roy Haynes! Man, like he's crazy." Bemused, Alan drew back from her. "I told you about him before."
"I know you did." She felt a bit ashamed of herself, only half paying attention, and so focused on her own troubles, when he talked about something he was clearly so passionate about. "But I would like to hear it again. Please."
He shrugged. "Like I said, Haynes is this bald cat that's nuttier than Krupa. He played with Bird and Thelonious and all those jazzers. Amazing when he gets really into the beat- he brings the whole house down!"
"It does sound... fun," she said, almost shyly.
Alan- bless him- looked somewhat incredulous. "You really want to hear him, Sue?" As he peered at her, he pushed his glasses back on his face. "I didn't think you really cared about the music."
"Well," she began slowly, "maybe I did, and I didn't know it."
"Really?" He cocked his head. "Here's a whole new side to you I didn't know about. Is there anything else you're hidin' from me?"
"Maybe." She smiled at him. "And maybe I'll stop hiding so much soon."
"Really? Now that sounds like lots of fun." Alan smiled back at her, roguishly. "I like stories."
"Good, because I've got a thousand of them," said Susan, all of a sudden, feeling giddy. "But for now-"
She paused, and gazed around at the trees, the sky, the brilliant streetlights, the speeding cars, the bulk of apartment buildings and townhouses, all brick and concrete and steel- all of them forming the most fascinating zig-zag on the horizon. And each building, behind their walls and windows, throbbed with life- men, women, children, laughing, crying, loving, dying, living. Like the blood pumping through her veins- she could feel the pulse of life in the ground, in the air, indeed, vibrating through her very body, as if she were at the center, the very heart of the world. It was the most astonishing feeling. And just think, she told herself, with awe and amazement- beyond Manhattan, spread a million places she had never seen. As of yet she had scarcely been into the outer boroughs- Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens- and there, and beyond that, there were as many things to do, and see, and experience, as stars in the universe. In this world, grief and laughter, beauty and horror, evil and goodness, intertwined, like a tapestry; a weaving of all the sufferings and joys of humanity; and for a moment she felt so overwhelmed, and joyful, that she could barely begin to count her blessings. She wanted to cry and laugh, and fling her arms into the air-
But Susan only turned to Alan, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkling.
"For now," she breathed, "I just want to go."
"Your wish is my command, Your Majesty," said Alan. He looked at her with astonishment and wonder, as he offered his arm. A big, delighted grin had taken over his face. "Let's beat it."
At that, she threw back her head and laughed- joyful, unrestrained, and finally, after all these years- free.
And she took his arm, and they went.
