Chapter Forty-Three: Saturday, Sunday 23, 2006, New York (Above)
Simon put on his headphones and popped the Loreena McKennitt CD into the player. He was in the living room; Sadie, Kyra, and Eileen were playing quietly. Or as quietly as kids their age could play. Samantha, Brian, and Juta were in the kitchen. Kip and Martha were out shopping. Simon wasn't sure where Zach was, although it often seemed that at least one of them was off on some unspecified errand.
Simon rearranged himself, so it was easier to write.
….
Sunday, January 23, 2006
I found myself in the park yesterday, sitting under the same tree we sat under my first time here. It was our first date. I think I knew then that I was going to fall in love with her.
I know I'm supposed to take it easy on the leg, but sometimes it's hard to be at home. Everyone is nice.
Too nice.
It's not the secrets I mind. Caroline, Cathy. Vincent. I don't need to know everything or even anything. I just need to hear the sound of her voice. I need to know she's still with me, because no matter what anyone says, I feel lost. Even talking to Cathy on Friday…. She told me all the same things Elliot did and for a moment, I think it helped, but it's getting harder to believe that all things are possible through love. It's getting harder to have faith.
I'd hoped going to work finally would help, but it hasn't. I'm loving my job. The kids are amazing. I'm even looking forward to getting fully back on my feet and starting at the restaurant. Henry and Lin are becoming incredible friends. I—
…
His train of thought was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone on the coffee table. For half a second his heart jumped—but it was Ruthie. He considered dodging the call—but then changed his mind.
"Hey Ruthie."
"Hey yourself. You forget how phones and emails work or something? Or have you been so busy with Caroline to call your family anymore?"
Simon bit back his initial reaction. Several of them. "No, just work. I started at the school this week."
There was a moment's pause on the other end. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, fine."
"Think about who you're talking to, here."
He huffed out a sigh, some of his resolve crumbling. He glanced into the kitchen, but it looked like the adults were busy with whatever they were cooking, and the kids seemed preoccupied with the game they were playing with their toys. "Caroline's been a little under the weather since…that stuff." Even if they were pre-occupied, he didn't want to scare the girls. "I haven't seen her, and I don't want Mom and Dad to know, because you know they'll just use it as a reason for me to come home."
"Under the weather how?"
"I don't know. I just know that I'm worried about her. I saw Cathy the other day. I'm sure everything is fine."
"Then how come you don't sound fine?"
"Because I'm not fine. Ruthie…you know what happened here. I'm still recovering. But I'm getting better and I don't want anyone else to worry, so I haven't called." Which was probably worrying everybody. "I'll call mom tomorrow," he promised. "Lucy too. And Ben."
"Don't forget Matt."
"I won't," he agreed and they both hung up.
Simon looked back at the words he'd written and finished his sentence.
….
I miss her.
….
…..
Simon crawled into bed at the end of the day and stared up at the ceiling for a long while, desperately wishing not to sleep, not to dream.
Slowly, little by little, sleep overtook him, and he found himself standing at the top of dark stairway that corkscrewed into a black Abyss. He knew what he would find at the base—but the pull down was too strong. Maybe…maybe this time he could save her. Maybe he could swim out to her somehow, bring her back to shore. Convince her, plead with her.
He would do anything to get her back.
So he put one foot in front of the other, until his feet touched black sand. He couldn't see it yet, but he could hear the water—those pitch black waves—lapping up against the shore. Tide coming in.
Overhead, the sky was a starless black dome.
"Simon."
He jumped at the sound of his name. It wasn't Caroline's voice. "Whose there?"
She chuckled softly in the darkness; it was the sound of dried leaves or brittle bones. "Come along, child, we haven't all night." Her accent was…Jamaican, maybe? Even though her tone was kind, shivers ran up and down his spine.
In the dark a light flared. A lantern.
He couldn't see the person holding it, but it gave him a direction.
And yet, when she spoke, her voice seemed to come from every direction, as if she were a part of the darkness itself, which seemed fitting. " 'You darkness that I come from,'" she quoted from Rilke. " 'I love you more than all the fires that fence in the world'."
" 'For the fire forms a circle of light for everyone,'" Simon spoke the next line from memory, unaware that he'd even memorized that one. He stepped into the light of the lantern—and the light went out. He continued, standing there in the dark. " 'And then no one outside learns of you.'"
"But the Darkness pulls in everything," she said.
And he continued, " 'Shapes, fires, animals, and myself.'"
They finished in unison, " 'How easily it gathers them, power and people. And it is possible a great energy is moving near me. I have faith in nights.'"
Her chuckle was kind. "Very good, Simon. There may be hope for you yet." The old woman stepped out of the darkness; she was short. Ancient. Dressed in layer upon layer of brightly colored cloth. Her skin was dark, and her feathers betrayed great age. Her eyes shone like a pair of white moons in the inky dark, sightless—and yet, he got the feeling she could see just fine. She could see everything. Around her neck hung strings of colored beads and cowrie shells; an orange and yellow bandana held back long braids. She reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. "Such sadness, child."
"I can't find her." Tears stung at his eyes. "Where is she? How do I get to her?"
"You must come Below."
"Below what?"
"Below the catacombs. Below everything. Further than anyone has even gone before, even Vincent."
"Vincent? Do you know him?"
She chuckled. "Of course, I know him, child! He always listened to me. He always sought my advice. He didn't always heed it," she added with a sly grin. "But he always listened. Just as you must listen now. You must follow her even to the places she is afraid to go herself. You are her beacon, Simon."
"What? How?" There was nowhere he wouldn't go if it meant getting her back.
The old woman chuckled again. "You are her beacon—and she is your anchor. Together you will do great things in this world. But this is a fragile time for her, child. She is lost. So very lost. Without your light, her being, her essence…she could shatter so easily. She could find herself lost in the darkness forever."
"No! No, that can't happen. I can't lose her. Please. I'll do anything not to lose her."
"Then you must go to her. And you must be brave. Braver than you have ever been before. You must love her, Simon. Every part of her."
"I do love her." Only bravery wasn't something he'd ever been especially good at. But if the choice was to lose her—to have her lose herself—or to be brave, it wasn't a choice. "How do I find her. How do I get…below."
"When the time comes, you will know. In the meantime, you must be strong—and you must forget."
"Forget?"
"Yes, Simon. You must forget. When the time is right, the memory of will come back. But for now, you must allow her what she needs."
"What does she need?"
"The time and space to find her path. To find…her feet. And to make mistakes. For children, it seems, are doomed to repeat the errors of their parents, and oh sweet Vincent, for a man so wise, he could be so foolish when it came to love." She chuckled softly. She began to fade.
"Wait! Please! I have so many questions, so much I need to know."
"Oh, such impatience!" She chuckled some more. "You know all you need to." Transparent fingers touched his chest; her touch brought a chill to his whole being. "Be still, child. Listen. Learn."
"Please just tell me she's all right."
"How like her father you are! Asking questions to which you already know the answer."
And with that, she was gone.
Simon woke with a start to the sounds of the street outside his bedroom window, the dull gray of ordinary shadows, the fragments of the dream slipping from him like sand.
"You darkness that I come from…." He whispered into the emptiness of his room. He rolled over and found his journal and pen. He wrote out the poem from memory and went back to sleep.
…..
Wednesday January 26, 2006, New York (Above)
Matt Camden gave the neighborhood a darkly appraising look. He wasn't sure how he felt about his brother working here. The school, with its high fence and burly Tenctonese security guard, didn't inspire much confidence, either. He sincerely hoped that when Heather had worked in New York, it wasn't at a school like this one…which reminded him how long it had been since he'd talked to Heather, and that maybe he should email her. Mom had run into Mrs. Cain at the market the other week; Heather was living in Baltimore, now.
Mrs. Cain.
Even after all the time he'd spent dating Heather, he still thought of her mother as Mrs. Cain. Not "Donna", not like the way Simon addressed Caroline's mother casually as "Cathy".
He forced a smile for the security guard. "Hi. I'm supposed to meet my brother. Simon Camden. He works here." Every statement came out sounding like a question.
The man…or no, his spots were too big to be a gannaum, a male. The binnaum smiled, a broad, welcoming smile. "You are Matt Camden! Simon said you were coming today." Bin buzzed open the gate. "Welcome. Just go into the office and get a visitor's pass. You can't miss it. Straight through the front doors and then to the right."
"Thanks…Thomas," he read the other's name badge.
Tomas beamed. "I knew I would like you. I like Simon a great deal. I'm teaching him Tenctonese—he's a very quick study! It's Sawyer, by the way," bin added proudly.
"Sawyer?"
"Simon was curious if I was named after a famous earth person. It's Tomas Sawyer."
Thomas…Tom Sawyer. Matt smiled. It could have been worse. "It's a good name to have."
Thomas seemed pleased with his response. Matt had read that binnaums tended to be a little…simple. Not "slow" exactly, just less sophisticated. He wasn't sure he'd had enough experience with the Tenctonese third gender to form an accurate opinion—and realistically speaking any Tenctonese patients who he saw as a doctor would be well past the stage where a binnaum would be involved. The binnaum's role in reproduction was to produce a catalyzing fluid that prepared the woman, the linnaum, for impregnation by her husband. The children shared no genetic connection to the children and, traditionally, binnaums had no families of their own.
Which didn't explain Sam Hill and bin's connection to the Hancock family…. Matt hadn't felt comfortable inquiring into something that…intimate.
He found the office with no trouble, just as Thomas had promised—and found Simon waiting for him.
"Thanks for meeting me here," Simon said, after they'd exchanged a warm hug. "I only have forty minutes for lunch."
"I'm just glad you called."
"Me too," Simon admitted. "It's been…well, you know."
"Yeah." Matt got a visitor's pass and followed his brother down the hall to a little sunlit cafeteria. "How's the leg?"
"Sore, but I'm managing okay." He was still walking with a cane. "Sorry about the accommodations. It's actually not half-bad for cafeteria food."
Matt laughed. "Can't be any worse than hospital food."
"How's Sarah?"
Matt forced a smile. "She's okay." Liar, liar…. Physically, Sarah was fine. She'd been treated at the hospital for hyperthermia and dehydration and released with a clean bill of health, no trace of drugs in her system. If it weren't for the injection site…if it weren't for too many strange things Matt had seen that night…. He got a tray and followed Simon through the line. "Pizza and tater tots?" he teased his brother.
"I get plenty of vegetables at home, Mom," Simon teased right back.
For half a second the world felt normal again.
Right up until Matt spotted a big black bird sitting outside the cafeteria, perched on the windowsill, staring in at them.
He shook himself. He was being paranoid. There was no way it was the same crow.
Physically, Sarah was fine; emotionally, she was withdrawn. She kept having nightmares…or…dreams. She refused to call them nightmares, even if that's what Matt thought they were. Crows. Ravens. Black birds.
Angels.
Angels with black wings.
She insisted she was fine, but Matt was worried. If what that girl had said was true, if Sarah had been given a lethal injection, if she'd somehow come back from that….
He followed Simon over to an empty table, thankfully not near the windows. They talked about school, work, Mom and Dad, who were still worried and still wanted Simon to come home.
"You should at least try to make it for Valentine's Day," Matt said. "Kevin is planning a big dinner at the restaurant where him and Lucy got engaged. And I gather from Luce that they're talking about trying for another baby."
"I don't think I can afford the flight."
"Mary might be able to help."
He shrugged. Then smiled. "I'll see what I can do. A lot of it will depend on work. Joel says I should be able to start work at Henry's next week. I honestly might be too busy."
"Are you sure you're up for it?"
"Henry promised to keep me on light duty as much as possible—but he really needs me. He took some sort of fall and twisted up his ankle pretty good. Lin says that between the two of us, we might be able to manage the work of one cook."
…
