AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have a feeling I'm going to get slaughtered for this chapter, especially after such a long wait, but what can I tell you. The characters tell me what happened next, and I just report it. I promise the next chapter will be conventional and include Bates and Thomas as well as Anna and others.
Raymond
CHAPTER 123: AN UNUSUAL NIGHT AT THE PIER
A few hours later
An agreeable breeze conspired with the sun to improve the character of Times Square. Bates sauntered along 40th Street, not able to recall the personal affliction he had some vague sense of wrestling. He picked up speed and checked the signposts as he passed: 8th Avenue, 9th Avenue, 10th. He was trotting now: 11th Avenue, 12th. He waved his hat gaily to the penniless souls who populated the avenue's shantytown, and they lifted their hats, those who had them, and returned the gesture.
As Bates gazed across the Hudson, he realized that he was scampering about without the benefit of Old Ram. Two sound legs could mean only one thing. "Rose!" he shouted expectantly. "I'm here, Rose!" He dodged the scurrying cars as he bounded across 12th Avenue to the nearest pier, too exhilarated to notice the darkening sky. He could think only of the joy that forever enveloped Rose, like some delightful contagion.
Bates was about to step onto the pier when the river summoned its waters and drew itself into a single, mammoth wave. He fell back as the black swell peaked far above him. The crest crashed to his feet and, as it receded, swallowed the avenue's piers and their docked ships. When the surge settled, Bates saw no overturned boats, no unfortunates struggling in the water. He saw only inky ripples. Terrified, he turned to the streets, but the city had gone the way of the piers.
Waves roiled and mushroomed. Deafening words spilled from the rising water. "You dare?"
The legs that had been sturdy only a moment before were useless now. Helpless, Bates watched as the water leapt gloriously to the clouds and refused to fall.
"You dare to abandon your children?"
Bates fell to his knees. "I haven't! I would never!"
Faint clouds filtered through the darkness and gave it shape. Water turned to diaphanous locks of hair that fell to the earth. Where there had been spray, now there were eyes, exquisitely wrathful eyes, that bore down on Bates. He knew those eyes, and he knew the voice.
"You toss your children aside so easily?" accused the voice. "If only I had been given a choice. I was torn from my son!"
"Rose, what are you saying? My children are safe at home."
"Home!" Rose thundered. "You have no home!"
"We do! We live at ... " Bates felt an unfamiliar terror grip his heart. "How can I think, Rose? You've unnerved me. We live at ... Oh, god! I can't picture it!"
Rose's voice softened to an ominous calm. "What does it matter where your family lives? You can't recall them either."
"I can!" insisted Bates. "There's ... a wife, isn't there? And there must be children. You said it yourself. You said I tossed them aside."
"So you did."
Bates inched closer on his knees. "Rose, I beg you, don't take my memories! Who am I without my memories?"
"Isn't it your heart's desire to live as your baser self?"
"I ... "
"You want to release the beast within?"
"How did you ... "
"What does a beast need with memories?"
"Rose, please, why are you doing this?"
"John Bates, were you or were you not planning to go on a tear tonight?"
"Not a tear! I was going to have a drink. One drink. Maybe two if it wasn't too late."
"Two?"
"Three at the most. But only if the price was right." Bates covered his ears against Rose's earsplitting laughter.
"You can't control your craving even in your imagination."
"I can! I went to bed without so much as one sip!"
"And we both know why."
A moment of clarity seized Bates. "It was you!" he charged. "You sent your own son to drown his sorrows so I'd feel sorry for him and stay home!"
Rose lifted her arms, and the cold mist that formed her substance expanded into the air and engulfed Bates in icy darkness. "I am not God!" she proclaimed. "And what if I were? God refuses to control a man's mind. A man makes his own choices."
Bates shivered violently. "Forgive me, Rose. I don't know what I'm saying."
"Perhaps I helped a letter arrive a day or two early. Nothing more."
Then it was you, acknowledged Bates to himself, aware that the moment for self-righteousness had passed, if ever it existed.
"So, the mores of society are too much for John Bates. Not even family can tame his savage self." Rose's voice reverberated about Bates.
"You don't understand."
"Don't understand? That's not possible. Think what I am."
"Rose, I can't help myself. I swear. Not when it comes to drink."
The mist thinned, and Rose's voice warmed a bit. "That's the first honest thing you've said to me tonight."
"Then you do understand."
The patch of earth to which Bates clung began to tremble.
"I understand that you can't help yourself. I don't understand why you haven't asked for help from those who love you."
"How can I?" appealed Bates. "I have a family, I'm certain, even if you've stolen their names and faces from me. A family needs a husband and a father."
"Why are you debating me, John Bates? We're in agreement. A family needs a husband and a father."
Bates sensed something dreadful in the offing. He tried to align his mind with Rose's logic. "You've allowed me to keep my memories of Thomas. Why, Rose?"
"Because we can't speak of intimate things if we don't have something in common."
As rattled as Bates was, he could see the sense of it. "Your son looks up to me, Rose, and I hold that dear. But if Thomas knew that in me lives ... lives the soul of a drunkard, he'd lose all respect for me, and so would ... and so would my wife and children. I'd lose my place in my own family. I couldn't bear it."
"And what place will you have in your family when you take that first drink and can't stop? Will your family visit you in the alley where you vomit and blackout and sleep in your own filth? Tell yourself the truth, John Bates. Asking for help would wound your pride, and your pride means more to you than your family. It means more to you than my son."
"It's not pride! I've always striven for humility!"
"Indeed, you take great pride in your little humble game, don't you? You can lie to yourself all you like, John Bates, but where I live, it's a simple thing to separate truth from fiction. I've thought a great deal about it, and I think it best if I relieve you of your struggle."
"Relieve me?"
"I'm granting you what you believe you want. Think of the favor I'm doing you. I'm saving you from having to face your family."
The ground quaked and pitched Bates onto all fours. He shut his eyes tightly and awaited his doom. He was certain the earth would open and swallow him whole. Instead, the tremors slackened until the earth stilled, and the call of a blue jay prompted Bates to open his eyes. He found himself kissed by a slim ray of sunlight that found its way through the thick trees surrounding him. He gulped the clean air, and his nose was titillated by a complexity of scents he had never before experienced. One in particular beckoned to him.
WATER. THIRSTY.
Bates pursued the scent until it guided him to a river's edge. He padded down the bank, leaned onto his front legs, curled his long tongue and scooped the water into his mouth.
GOOD.
Bates hid in tall grass near the river. He wanted to see what other beasts would come to quench their thirst. He waited and almost dozed off when his nose caught a new scent. He sniffed the air warily and perked up his ears.
PACK.
Bates felt his heart pound with excitement as he prepared to meet his brethren. He stood tall with legs rigid, ears forward, and tail high. The approaching wolves nipped playfully at each other, and Bates knew their purpose was to display their teeth. He singled out the dominant male and stared fixedly. The male took note of Bates's size and muscle and, after a few moments' consideration, chose to avert his eyes. Bates curled his lip and snarled, and one-by-one, the pack was reabsorbed by the forest. Bates grinned with satisfaction as he urinated on several trees to mark his territory.
GREATEST.
Bates basked in his heroism until it bored him. He dipped a paw into the river, found it pleasant, and paddled to the other side where he discovered a muddy glove. He carried this new treasure with him as he wove in and out of the trees nearest the river, searching for a night's refuge. When he found a suitable cove hidden by low-lying branches, he carefully set down the glove and sniffed it.
WOMAN.
Bates pawed the dirt, curled up, and awaited his next adventure. But adventure did not arrive. Bates swam to wash the dirt from his fur, rolled in the dirt, and swam again. He shook himself dry and lay down, resting his head on the glove.
LONELY.
The dawdling sun was low in the sky when a fresh scent found Bates's nose.
GOAT. HUNGRY.
Bates would have preferred elk but allowed the scent to usher him to the edge of the forest, where the trees opened to a meadow. He peeked from under the lowest branches until he caught sight of the goat's hooves. He waited for the wandering hooves to settle, and when they did, he sprang, found a neck, and sunk in his fangs. The goat fell to the ground, and Bates tasted blood.
GOOD.
Bates found the goat's belly and tore open the flesh. As he chewed the liver, he glanced up at his victim and saw not a goat's head, but a man's. The creature had a man's arms as well. Bates ripped open the creature's chest, not caring if it belonged to goat or man, clamped his jaws onto the heart, and ripped it loose. He was relishing the blood-soaked treat, when, in spite of missing organs, the man abruptly opened his eyes and sang:
"Someday he'll come along, the man I love ... "
Bates responded the only way he knew. He dropped the half-eaten heart, threw back his head, and howled.
