Saturday, November 16 1963 - 7:45pm
There are days - just like today - when events seem inexorably destined to get out of hand. This morning, at Merelec's two Dallas stores, we received no less than sixteen new malfunctioning TV sets. Sixteen of them. To be repaired by Thursday evening. May I say that we're not going to be idle, and perhaps some people should plan to go to Grassy Knoll right away, so they can watch Kennedy being assassinated. Sorry, when I'm tired, I give in to cynicism more easily. And I am - right now - exhausted.
As if that wasn't enough, Klaus was well and truly on his way from San Francisco to Dallas, and he managed to get himself arrested, though I couldn't quite work out what he'd done. The officer who called me spoke of 'car-jacking', which surprises me a little, but is a possibility with him. Maybe the Dodge gave up the ghost, no pun intended, and bus service on Interstate 40 is as scarce as rain.
Anyway, I'm still his designated contact. Who else would be? And, of course, everything is more complicated, given that he has no ID and I don't either. I was able to contact James, the lawyer who was one of the 'Children', the one who is also in charge of Kitty's succession. I can tell you that Klaus owes him a whisky or two by now. And that the fact that his father is the Governor and a former beneficiary of Kitty's has helped handsomely.
I finished all the repairs I could before closing the store. I'm out of spare CRTs and tuners anyway, and the supplier's delivery is tomorrow at noon. Lloyd - who also fixes radios in downtown Dallas - would be able to keep working for an hour or two, and I did the only thing I thought humanly appropriate: I went to the police station to pick up Klaus, just as I had done so many times in the past. Truly, it seems that some things in this universe are fated to never change.
I've learned that he wasn't there any more, that he was able to get out a little before nightfall. He doesn't know where I live and work, and - as a result - he also doesn't know where the Katzes' hardware store is. I was soon left with only one option. An obvious and sad option, in the gardens of which it took me only one teleportation to penetrate. And here I am, under the full moon, as if it were destined never to crumble.
In the night, Kitty's mansion would seem to be only sleeping. Gray, against the inky sky, above the gravel driveway where Priscilla was once painted. On the lawn beds, the flowers we sowed in spring are open and waiting for daybreak. Wayne's dahlias and cosmos, and hundreds of yellow marigolds, which will shine golden in the sun tomorrow in the middle of the day. I wonder if Kitty has finally seen them bloom. And now, there in the night, I feel sad that the gardeners won't be coming anymore.
I chase these thoughts away, teleporting once more to the high paned doors. I bend down to retrieve the key from under the doormat, and my heart sinks as I think of Kitty's ring-filled hand, leaving it there one last time on her way to Varanasi. I blink for a long time: really, this day is not going to spare me. I stand up, and my foot immediately crunches on broken glass. I freeze, key in hand, as I notice that one of the small panes is broken, and I sigh. No, I don't think Kitty's house has been burglarized. Klaus's house, in fact, now.
Reflexively, I try to turn on the ceiling light without touching the switch, as I've done dozens and dozens of times, and I sense immediately that the house system is no longer connected to the local electricity supply. In the dim moonlight, I realize that all the furniture has already been covered with white sheets. That this place, so recently filled with the laughter and songs of the Destiny's Children, is now a mere shadow of its former self. I get attached to houses, as I did to Hargreeves Mansion back in the day. For some reason, I think - deep down - that places suffer as much as people.
Feeling a little low, I cross the living room in the direction of the space Klaus had made his bedroom, amidst a forest of white sheet bells. If I didn't know what ghosts looked like, I might have thought I was walking through an army of them. But now that I can see spectral energy, I know they're very different from the white-sheeted caricatures they're often portrayed as. I see their human forms in the ethers, when Klaus conjures them, their faces as detailed as if I were seeing you. And as I enter the room, it's one of them I spot immediately, and the one I know best by far: Ben, leaning under the hideous portrait of Klaus in the blessing posture, which Kitty had commissioned painted on our return from India. Our eyes meet before he looks down at the wrapped sofa in the center of the room. There, swaddled like a spring roll in a sheet, Klaus is asleep, drooling on his beard, even though 8 p.m. hasn't chimed yet.
It's something I'd always noticed, that Ben could stay, if Klaus fell asleep, and I feel a kind of joy at seeing him cross his arms like that. I smile in spite of myself, and do what he and I have been used to for years now: I make tangible what is needed of his vocal apparatus so that we can talk. I can't materialize his whole body on my own, if Klaus is asleep.
"Obviously the trip was exhausting," I say, looking back at the shapeless mass snoring soundly.
"It was hell," he replies. "I don't know what selfish outburst has hit him again".
I look up at Ben, who seems prodigiously annoyed. At his words, I'm seized with doubt as to whether Klaus has updated him on the twists and turns regarding Dave. He obviously doesn't know why they came here. If Klaus didn't tell him, maybe it's not entirely out of carelessness: sometimes Ben is as judgmental as Granny. I'm not sure he'd approve of what his brother is about to do, so I decide to respect that and say nothing myself.
"Oh I can sense that the twenty-five hours on the road and almost as many in police custody have been a real bliss between the two of you".
When Klaus and Ben bicker, I usually prefer to isolate myself. And the latter uncrosses his arms, with a look as piercing as if he were going to try to drag out the quarrel with me.
"Did he - for a single moment - think that maybe I wanted to stay?"
I sigh as I remove the sheet from a small wooden armchair, next to the sofa where Klaus is asleep, where I sit. Unfortunately, Ben already knows how I feel about this.
"Ben, you know very well that he himself isn't always at the commands of the ship, so just try to think."
I admit I don't know myself whether it's a good idea for him to visit Dave, especially since - whatever he plans to say - it's unlikely to go as expected. But I'll let him do it without judgment if he decides to, which Ben probably wouldn't. I can see him grumbling, and I know what's going on deep down.
"It wasn't so much San Francisco you felt ripped away from, was it?"
He lets his arms fall along his 'body' with a sigh, but Ben knows that - I - understood he had a thing for Jill.
There's no particular revelation here, in fact we've joked about it at times, because Jill would indeed be adorable, and rather my type, if she weren't insanely starry-eyed. And you know I've got pretty flexible standards when it comes to wackiness. Somehow, this situation saddens me. Because this is clearly a one-sided relationship, since she doesn't even know that Ben exists beyond Klaus. Long-distance relationships are complicated enough, so on different planes of reality...
"She had started reading aloud 'Doors of Perception' again at the bookworm club. Since Keechie's departure she hadn't felt like it."
I laugh softly.
"Ben, you don't give a damn about Huxley's books".
"I do about her voice."
For a moment, I think back to what Klaus told me about forgetting Dave's voice, and then I stand silently in front of Ben, not sure what to say. Maybe I can understand, deep down, why he'd want to enjoy it. I look at the 'living body bag', breathing quietly right next to me.
"You never discussed again the possibility of materializing you for a moment, so that she could at least meet you?"
Last year, it was another tense topic, which - outwardly to the 'Children' - looked like a possession episode in the middle of dinner, and had to be justified by saying it was a 'prayer'. But this time, Ben sighs.
"I gave up," he says. "He doesn't last very long, and I want to talk to Jill alone. All alone, and especially not with him around, ruining everything. Just like he did to you back in the day with Nadeem, or Ingrid. And Riley."
Damn. I should have known Ben had witnessed this.
"Yeah, well I don't think it would have lasted very long anyway, you know."
Still, he's right and he knows it. I've wondered about all the things Ben has historically witnessed. Often, in fact. Sometimes, I've known. But I suspect there are also an infinite number of times when I haven't been aware of it. It's probably better that I wasn't. I think he's a bit cheeky to complain about having an indiscreet and indelicate audience, but whatever.
"He didn't even tell me we were leaving," he says, much calmer now. "He already had one foot in the car when I found out".
He must have let his brain processing for moment, then make up his mind in one fell swoop as usual. I admit, it must have been tough for Ben. But at that very moment, as if sensing the content of the conversation, Klaus turns over in his sleep with a deep breath, which both Ben and I know announces that he's about to wake up.
"Do you really think the others are going to stay in San Francisco, without him?"
Honestly, I doubt it. Most of the 'Children' left can't live without him. Ben looks at me, while Klaus has just caught my voice in his half-sleep and is searching the air with his hand, eyes closed. Ben takes a step as if he's about to leave the room. I know he's about to vanish.
"I do hope Jill comes back, anyway," he murmurs.
One more blink, and he's gone. Then I look again at the cocoon that is Klaus, wrapped in his sheet, his eyes opening against the white fabric that also covers the sofa. How long had it been since I'd last seen such a thing? Six months?
"Rin, I need a hug. Or two. Or a hundred," he utters, his speech half-impeded by his slumped position. Clearly, it seems perfectly normal to him that I'm here.
"You should have stayed by the Bay. There you could ask to do the flying-saucer-wheelbarrow whenever you wanted."
He mumbles.
"You know it's not the same at all."
He peels himself from his sheet, letting me appreciate his ugly Tiffany-blue embroidered long coat, worn over striped pants. His beard falls almost to his chest, now knotted at different heights. His tired look tells me that before (not being able to) sleep in custody, he must have driven most of the way in one go. And he's no doubt aware of my opinion regarding this flashy billionaire guru look, which he suddenly seems to resent wearing himself. He struggles out of his coat and throws it in a heap on the tile floor, while I sit down next to him to fulfill his request. After all, it's been half a year since we last saw each other. And last Monday, I so regretted not being able to hold him in my arms. We both sigh. And after a moment, I ask him frankly:
"Are you really planning to go to the Glen Oaks store?"
He stands still. Even though he's come all this way, I'm not sure he has an answer to that question yet, paradoxically. But after a moment, he finally shakes his incredible profusion of loose curls.
"What if there was a chance - just one - that he wouldn't enlist?"
I swallow painfully. Because I really think Five would lose it if he heard that. But I too, deep down, want more than anything to stop David from enlisting. He might have sensed it, by the way, when I tried to get him to rethink which army corps to consider. But for the ideals one sometimes has at seventeen, he's pretty adamant. And above all...
"It's hard to surpass Brian's word, who fought in Korea, you know..."
My voice is a little bitter. Klaus steps back and looks at me. His eyes are red and I can see his throat is knotted, but he's functional, which is somewhat reassuring.
"Who's Ryan?"
"Brian. His uncle. He's the owner of the hardware store at number 765. Sorry to put it that way but he's a pretty big asshole."
Klaus gives a long breath. I think he knew about David's father and grandfather, who fought in the world wars.
"Ryan's brainwashing him..."
"That's Brian with a B. Sort of. He's bullshitting him that it would make him 'a man'. Even though David... Dave... also has convictions you know better than me."
He runs a somewhat confused hand over his face. I think he's already turned over and over in the sponge that serves as his brain everything he was capable of doing or saying. His gaze wanders for a moment in the pale moonlight, which is the only glow in the room where we'd spent so much time. This place is truly unrecognizable, with the sheets all over the furniture. It's very rare to see Klaus thinking like this, you should know. But believe me, if there's one person in all of space-time who has a chance of convincing David, it could be him.
"Is it open tomorrow?"
He stands up, looking at me still sitting down there.
"What, the Katzes' hardware store?"
"Yes. It's Sunday, tomorrow."
"I... yes..."
It still disturbs me that he knows what day it is.
"Yes, all the stores are open on Sundays on Glen Oaks, except Mason's."
"Okay."
With a sort of determined sigh, he starts walking through the half-lit corridor towards the bathroom. His trajectory is even less rectilinear than usual, and he bumps into the wall on the left, then the right, as if he's drunk when he's not. Eventually, however, he reaches his goal, where a pale light falls from the skylight onto the sink. All of Kitty's things are still there, on the shelves. As if her towels, straightening iron and night cream were still waiting to be used. I don't know how he stands seeing this. But he and I clearly don't have the same relationship to death.
"What are you doing?"
In one swift motion, he opens one of the white drawers nestled against the bathtub, and pulls out a long pair of scissors.
"Maybe I'll have a better chance of convincing him if I look less like Rasputin."
His hand no longer trembling, he starts trimming his beard just below his chin, and I'm grinning like an idiot. The last time I saw him without it was literally in another time, on the stage of the Icarus Theatre. Nevertheless, his gesture marks the end of something. And - more than ever tonight - I feel that the 'Destiny's Children' travels are well and truly behind us.
"Rasputin... don't be hard on yourself," I joke, leaning against the doorjamb. "Come on, let's say... Dumbledore. A lost in Hollywood Dumbledore".
He doesn't even laugh, resolute, and persists somewhat ragefully, until his long goatee falls to the bottom of the sink. He roughly polishes it, staring at its reflection in the poor light, postponing a proper shave. Then he starts cutting his hair, pulling out heavy handfuls of curls more or less randomly, which fall onto the tiled floor, everywhere around him. As if unleashing his fury on his mane could relieve him of all the last months spent hating his very own Vedas. Unfortunately, he's just doing it completely nonsensically. He's going to end up messing himself up, just like the time when he ended up having to shave his head.
"Wait, wait."
I get up and make him sit on the stool, taking his scissors.
"They're made for righties, you don't stand a chance to do it right, especially in a mirror."
He sighs and gratefully lets me. I cut his hair for a while. I'm far from being good at it, but I'll probably do better than him anyway. I glance at my watch. I know it won't be long before Lloyd comes over to my place, on his way to see his parents. Klaus still doesn't know about him. And I don't think now is the right time to tell him. He stands still, and I know he's rehearsing in his head what he might say to this seventeen-year-old who doesn't even know him.
"Would you tell him?" he asks me without more context, his eyes unfocused, as more and more hair falls to the floor tiles below the stool. My scissors freeze for a moment, because I know what he's talking about.
"You mean... to David, about what's going to happen to him?"
I try to trim somewhat harmoniously into his profusion of hair, a little above his shoulders, eventually with a haircut that will possibly look a bit like mine because it's the only I know how to do. Klaus shivers a little at my words, and I just manage to say:
"Don't move, ears don't grow back".
He's still not laughing, he's sniffling. And I continue to cut what I can, while searching for the most honest answer to give him.
"Maybe I would as a last resort. I have this idea that you really shouldn't tell people about the way they die, you know. But I got it from Doc Emmett Brown in Back to the Future, so it's probably not that relevant."
All joking aside, this is David we're talking about. That good kid who's lent me so many books, who grabs the pickles off my sandwiches as he will one day do with Klaus, whom I exfiltrated from a date with Trisha Mason on the 4th of July. The one who always manages to fill me with SF dreams, even when I'm swamped with TV sets to repair. And my hands too start shaking to the point where I decide that Klaus's haircut will be good enough as it is and put down the scissors. Even if I don't have his history with Dave, I too have reasons to want him saved.
"You'll have to get a pro to re-cut this," I tell him in a slightly broken voice that lets him know that I am affected as well by what he is about to do regarding David. I'm also hopeful, as I rely on him to do it.
I know the consequences. I know that if he somehow manages to keep David from being sent to Vietnam, Klaus will mechanically never meet him. He's willing to sacrifice that, if he can save him. He'll also become a paradox on his own. Really, Five would go berserk. And you know what?
I don't give a shit.
He looks at himself in the bottom of the mirror, not standing up, and quietly wipes away the tear that has rolled down his cheek. Then he swivels on his stool, he just pulls me against him again, and says, his nose in the coarse mesh of my pullover:
"Can you stay?"
I check my watch again, I squeeze my eyes shut, then I run my hand through his freshly cut hair. I have a fleeting thought for Lloyd. But as the fool I've always been and probably always will be, I sigh and answer him:
"I'll make do".
Notes :
If you've ever wondered what happened to Klaus's beard and hair during the night between episodes 2 and 3, now you know.
And as I'm sure you've guessed, you're about to have the tragic pleasure of watching him ruin, once again, any relationship Rin might try to forge with anyone other than him. Not consciously, like most of what he does, but that's factually what's always happened, and 1963 won't be any different.
This chapter surely goes deeper into the question of the relationship between them, and with Ben too. This scene is the first since the beginning of the story, really, where we see one of the conversations Rin and Ben have alone sometimes.
I'm still sad for Kitty. But tomorrow will dawn over Wayne's flowerbeds.
Any comment will make my day
