Death Or Eurydice by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 2- Sweet Blindness
At twilight it was still hot with only an intermittent soft breeze. Molly was hitched up to the open buggy. His parents took the elevated planked seat and Orpheus sat on the wooden flatbed, his back up against the seat, with a view of what was being left behind. As they rode the path east and then south to town he watched his house fade into the distance. He watched the pink sunset over Eurydice’s area, before Molly made a right turn at the intersection, pulling everyone into the darkness.
They were a bit late as the parade was apparently over, but the town’s streets were still milling with people eager to continue the festivities. They parked in front of a stable already full of fashionable carriages, the horses whinnying and turning their heads toward Molly, some snorting. The three walked to the end of the lamp lit block passing small houses now used for the sewing of clothing, the dispensing of fertilizer and wagon repair.
The three turned onto the main street, site of the parade.
At their entrance spot participants were still excitedly talking to each other and passing the jugs. Each of the little family got a few swigs as they passed through people dressed as clowns, the founding fathers, frontiersmen, military men and one as Uncle Sam, trying his best to remain elevated on six foot
stilts. They resisted numerous opportunities to purchase painted whirligigs. The makers were pulling their strings in an attempt to attract buyers by their forced “dance.”
The next group they saw was a grove of elderly women, sweating in bulbous skirts which reached their shoes, topped with intricately designed blouses buttoned to the neck and elaborate hats held in place with thin leather straps under the chin. The banner, now lying on the dirt road, said “Daughters of the American Revolution.” No jugs were being passed around, though a few of the women looked and acted as if they had access to a private source, perhaps hidden somewhere under their clothes.
High hatted gentlemen stood, as best they could, in small groups seemingly trying to impress their companions with their business or money acumen. Flasks were in open evidence, but not passed around, by the entrepreneurs, doctors, lawyers and Indian chiefs. At the far left of this group, Orpheus saw Eurydice, her mother and father standing by themselves. They were the first black attendants he noticed, Eurydice looking uneasy and annoyed in her sheer white dress. Her parents were silently, glumly staring at the high hats.
Orpheus said; “I know her. Let’s go over and say hello.”
His mother said; “That might not be a good idea.”
He looked at his father, who was now stationary thirty feet from his curvy friend. He said; “I think your mother has a good point. Don’t you see anyone else around you know? Maybe you sold someone a pot or two.”
Orpheus said; “I’m not sure. Probably. It’s hard to tell in the dim light. But, I’m sure I know her because she bought a pot today, that she proceeded to lose somewhere. Come on.”
Orpheus took a few steps in Eurydice and her family’s direction, but didn’t succeed in starting another parade.
Eurydice’s father and mother ascertained the general drift of the conversation going on 30 feet north of them and didn’t know what to do. They were eager to make some social contact, but also noticed that the Christophers were not attired as their neighbors, exhibiting a strong dose of “down homey” so they too stood still. Eurydice must have felt something in the air, as she broke her disinterested gaze away from the boots displayed in the still open “Leather Shoppe” and saw Orpheus, who was already midway between his parents and her.
She quickly walked over to him, hooking her left arm under his right and said; “Get me the hell out of here.” She hurriedly led him down a side street heading due south. Both sets of parents remained still, glancing at their shoes, wanting to call out to their children, which was overridden by their mutual desires not to draw any more attention to what had
happened. None of them considered that in a small town there are no secrets, only exaggerations of known “facts.”
After getting thirty feet down the side street, Eurydice stopped and looked back. Nobody was following, so she slowed down and said; “Boy, am I glad to see you.”
He released his right arm from her left and put it around her waist. He pulled her toward him and kissed her lips, keeping his thick lips on hers until she pushed him away, saying with a smile; “You don’t have any manners at all, do you?”
He didn’t know what to respond, so he took her hand and held it as they continued their now slow walk. After 30 seconds he said; “I guess I’m not a proper person. To me good manners are also good sense and kissing you makes perfect sense to me.”
She looked at his interested moist brown eyes and put her arm around his waist and gave him a long lip kiss, using her tongue. Since he didn’t break away their hands had ample time to explore parts of each other’s bodies. She eventually stopped the kiss and put her arms around his shoulders, putting her face side to side with his. She said; “You’re not a proper white boy at all. Thank the lord! My folks always encouraged me to speak, dress and act as the proper white people did and I was never all that impressed with the phony high class routine.”
“Even if I knew how to act properly white and high class, believe me; that would be the furthest away from the way I’ll
perform with you.” Realizing that what he had just said could be interpreted as being disrespectful, he added; “No offense intended.” When she gave him a curious look, he squinted and mumbled; “You know what I mean?”
Eurydice closed one eye, made a small nod, smiled and said;
“You sure you’re all white? Those lips look like Jelly Face Watson from the south side. You know him?” She touched them with the fingertips of her left hand and he licked her until she pulled her hand away, enjoying the exotic taste and aroma.
Eurydice looked at him in an evaluative manner and made the slightest of encouraging smiles. Disappointed with the termination of tactile stimulation, he commenced speaking and said; “Only in spirit. But, look at the rest of this face.
It’s as white as a cream pie.”
They both laughed, swinging their clutched hands, as they continued their ambling walk into the un-illuminated black of night. They reached the path and continued straight on it, ignoring the possible left that led to each one’s home. She said; “Do you come this way regularly?”
“I don't know if ‘regularly’ is the right word. If I stay on the path, I can go three different ways from my house. I probably come this way once every three walks.”
“I was there for the first time today. I walked all over and I saw that there are really four Sudburys.”
“At least. On the borders things are not very black and white.”
She laughed and when he quickly realized what he had unwittingly said, so did he.
People must have been settled in their houses, or they were standing perfectly still in the dark night. No wind disturbed the perfect silence. When they got near Lettie’s house she saw them and approached saying; “I told you, Eurydice. Come on in.
I’ve been waiting.”
Eurydice didn’t want to answer directly, in front of Orpheus so she just said; “Hi, Lettie.”
Orpheus didn’t understand the entreaty, so dismissed it and followed Eurydice through the uncut grass to Lettie’s door.
Eurydice said; “This is Orpheus. Say Hello to Lettie.”
Orpheus looked at the 200 pound chocolate woman and noticed that she probably wasn’t wearing anything under her tight house dress. “Hi. I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I think I’d of remembered. But I live near here.” He pointed northwest.
Lettie grinned and said; “I know. I’ve seen you walking by here before. I just wondered when you’d reach my door.” She pushed it in and led the couple into the kitchen, waving toward the chairs at the table. There were six different varieties.
Having been here before, Eurydice already had a favorite and sat on a yellow cushioned country version of a Queen Anne armchair,
gracefully curved, comfortable, classic, simple and not ostentatious. Orpheus took the one closest to her, made of simple rabbited pine and slat backed, of no particular style other than home-made. It’s most noticeable features were the dark blue paint just starting to peel revealing a dark brown stain and the fact that the seat was a few inches lower than Eurydice’s, forcing him to look up at her. Lettie retrieved a pitcher of ice tea from the ice box, poured three glasses and sat at the trestle table on an ornately chip carved, dark stained, three legged, triangular chair and seemed to spill out of its seemingly miniscule confinement.
Orpheus looked at her well revealed black barefoot legs and Lettie said; “They tell me that it came from France.” He looked at Eurydice, who just looked back and said nothing. He again turned to Lettie, first eyeing her grinning round face and working his way down again to her legs. Lettie added; “I’m talking about the chair. I’m as American as they come.”
The two women laughed out loud and Orpheus nervously smiled, saying; “That’s a great chair. I especially like the triangular shape.”
The couple disposed of their beverages quickly, being dry from their long hot night’s walk. When she saw that they were done, Lettie left her glass on the table and went through a closed door to her fifteen year old daughter’s bedroom and said;
“Naomi, quit what you’re doing and get out here. We have very special company tonight.”
In a few seconds, a light brown skinned girl, also in a tight old housedress, emerged. She looked at the couple, smiled and said; “Hi.” Orpheus and Eurydice responded in kind, standing up.
Lettie directed them through the door and said; “You two will have to stay in here a while. I’ve got something private to talk to my daughter about.” She closed the door behind her, leaving them in total darkness.
They moved around gingerly, discovering the unmade bed.
They sat on it and reached for each other’s hand. He said;
“There’s got to be a lamp in here somewhere.”
“I don’t see it. Do you?”
Their eyes were beginning to get acclimated to the lack of light and he saw a closed window. He got up and opened the bottom shutter, letting its leather straps support it. He could feel the cool night air in his face and saw stars all over the sky on this cloudless night. He said; “Take a look at this, Eurydice.”
She walked over to the open window and stood next to him.
They soon had their arms around each other’s waist. In thirty seconds he let go, placing his persistent palate protuberance on the purple pastoral paragon peak. They couldn’t see it, but they
heard a sound probably coming from a not too distant house.
Someone was chicken pickin’ a banjo and a male voice was singing; Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do.
I’m half crazy, oh for the love of you.
It won’t be a stylish marriage.
I can’t afford a carriage.
But you’ll look sweet
Upon the seat of a bicycle built for two.
Chapter 3- Unsolicited “Wisdom”
After he walked Eurydice home, Orpheus turned back and went to his own. It was one AM and no candle light was in evidence.
He hoped his parents were asleep as he was in too good spirits and too tired to deal with any kind of harangue. He first went to the kitchen using the moonlight to direct him to the pine corner cupboard. The open top displayed the family pewter collection, but the lower closed cabinet was his desired goal.
He opened the latched door and retrieved and old half empty bottle of red wine, only used on special occasions. He poured himself half a glass and drank it slowly. Though his body was exhausted to the point of stumbling around with legs that weighed a ton, his mind was alive with thoughts of Eurydice, the great possibilities and the not entirely imagined difficulties likely in Sudbury. He grew up in a predominately white part of Boston and he remembered many of the comments he had heard about
“negroes”, their proper place, their easy ungodly sexual practices, their laziness and the resultant life of squalor.
Even as a kid he wondered how they knew all these things without having had the experience of knowing any black people. His Catholic Church priests never addressed the subject. He concluded that the insight he apparently lacked must have been written in one of God’s books that he had missed. The wine took
quick effect and his circumspection turned to some kind of amusement, akin to laughing at mongoloids, but directed at people not handicapped, at least not on the surface. He found his way to his bed and collapsed into it thankful that to the best of his knowledge he wasn’t retarded and moreover, even if he were, it didn’t matter because he was in love.
He immediately slept, but not restfully. He was soon wide awake walking in a Boston Back Bay shopping district. The stores were either closed or empty and he knew he had to get something before he went back home, but he couldn’t remember what that was. He hoped that he would know it when he saw it.
It was utter futility, as he also realized that if he was lucky enough to see it, the only way to get it would be to break in.
One store had a small clock held in a dark mahogany lyre case, with a gilded leaf ornament on top. Its center panel was painted and depicted a rural scene being traversed by six redcoats. It shattered the dark silence chiming once, indicating that it was 11:30PM. When he looked away from the clock he was startled to see that his cigarette smoking, sallow acquaintance was standing right next to him wearing a loud red ruffled shirt.
The painter of “F-A-N-T-A-S-Y” offered his hand and said;
“Sorry I was in too much of a rush to introduce myself last time. I’m Aazaziel.”
Orpheus didn’t want to shake his hand, fearing that there would be something like a dead rat in it, so he stood there motionlessly and politely said; “I’m Orpheus.”
Aazaziel said; “I know. Pity you. Listen, I’m in a bit of a hurry again. I’ve been working on mathematics lately. Look at what I’ve got and tell me what you think.” He reached under his fancy shirt and pulled out a small canvas. On it was a white lined square, encompassed, touching and coinciding at the bottom with a yellow lined triangle, which in turn was encompassed and touched at its three points by a brown circle.
Beneath it was a simple black lined square, divided further into smaller squares, eight across and eight down containing one and two digit numbers of different colors.
Orpheus said; “It looks like meaningless pretentiousness to me.”
Aazaziel didn’t seem offended. He put the canvas on the ground and leaned it against the store. He puffed on his cigarette as his other hand rubbed his chin and he affected a wrinkle browed, discerning look. He reached under his shirt again, this time finding a quilled pen loaded with black ink.
He bent down and drew a circle inside the white lined square, but not touching it. He said; “Is that any better?”
Orpheus said; “It doesn’t make any difference to me. It still looks like something a five year old could do.”
Aazaziel put the canvas and pen back under his shirt and mock effacingly said; “It does need more work or something.” He pulled out another lit cigarette from one of his pants pockets and puffed on it furiously, blowing smoke in Orpheus’ face. His yellow face contorted as if he was doing his best to push out turds without success, then he maniacally screamed out;
“Sylphs, driades and oneriads.” He punched a hole in the store window and pulled out the clock with his bloody left hand. He smirked very derisively at Orpheus and said calmly; “Take it.
It’s yours.”
Though he really didn’t like it, Orpheus, out of fear, not wanting to offend a lunatic, embraced the clock with both hands.
Aazaziel laughed in his face and blew more smoke, saying; “It is done.” He then disappeared as quickly and quietly as he had appeared.
Orpheus looked back at the store. The clock was in its original place now displaying 11:35 and the window was again intact. But he could see a golden smudge on his right hand, while he noted that the clock’s gilded leaf adornment looked duller than before.
Orpheus woke up disgusted. On the one night he really wanted to try to get some really good sleep, Aazaziel had to again show up unannounced. He thought; “Didn’t he ever hear of the word “appointment?” Does he think he’s so important that
I’ll be thrilled to see him whenever he deigns to make his presence known? From what I’ve seen of his artwork, I can live very well without the benefit of seeing any more. Why doesn’t he go see someone who wants his company? I’m sure many would be willing to stand on line to get a personal audience with a lousy outcast.” He realized that his last thought was intended sarcastically, but also had merit devoid of circuitousness.
His gaze went from the ceiling to the foot of the bed where he saw her. “Oh no,” he bemoaned. “I just got away from one nut.” Her thin red lips did not smile. He dejectedly said;
“What do you want?
She said; “I love you and I want you to love me.”
“Good lord.”
“No, I’m not the Lord, stupid. I’m Death.”
Orpheus couldn’t help changing his mindset. He thought;
“Yesterday was the best day of my life and today sounds like it has potential for being the absolute worst. If this ‘Death’
doll is a figment of my imagination, that’s the best case scenario. Maybe keeping out of the wine bottle would solve the problem. But if this is the real deal I’m in the deep end of Molly’s corral. I certainly didn’t expect to meet or think about death until I was at least sixty. And Death loves me?
Does that mean that she wants to take me soon?” He said; “I didn’t expect to see you for some time.”
“Silly expectation. A lot of people have died younger than you.”
It was just what he didn’t want to hear. He took as good a look at her as he could in light provided only by the full moon.
She had long black hair, parted in the middle, hanging down her back and shoulders, very neat, as it was very close to her head, not the least bit unruly. Her pale face held pleasant physical features, but the look in her blue eyes and thin unsmiling lips suggested an adherence to some rule or set of rules that was dominant over him. She wore an open button up black leather coat which reached below the knee. Her blouse was a simple red one buttoned to the top. Her black skirt was a bit on the short side, showing a few inches of thigh. Not much flesh was visible as her high heeled black leather boot tops caressed her knees.
He said; “So, are you here to take me off to nirvana, heaven, hell, or whatever you call it?”
She visibly sighed and said; “You’ve asked a question I don’t know enough to answer.” She reflected on the world she knew, lost track of time and went into a dream-like state. She remembered the countless people she had visited, who were almost invariably afraid to see her, at least initially. After spending some time with them she left most with a sense of acceptance and relief. She visualized the nameless members of tribunals handing down orders they’ve somehow received, not
knowing from who or where, but for some reason finding the dictates irresistible. There were dusty old rooms, inhabited by very old men, who were very surprised when found and would often say something seemingly nonsensical as they held one of the files filled with papers, some hanging out, some already on the floor. The room would be full of such files held in cases which traversed the entirety of the space between floor and ceiling.
On her last visit to one of them, trying to find a record of Orpheus’ birth date, she was greeted by an unkempt seventy year old man with long wild white hair covering most parts of his head. He was kneeling on the floor, looking at one of the files. He seemed to be making five stacks, ostensibly restoring some sort of order. He must have heard her heels on the brick floor, as he looked in her direction and flatly said; “What are you looking for?”
She opened her mouth to make a response, but before she got a word out he said; “It doesn’t matter. You won’t find it here.” He cackled piercingly for a second and then methodically put his head back down and continued his chore. She felt uneasy and confused. He was so glum and calm she considered the possibility that he might all of a sudden spring at her like a snake. She took a quick look at the cabinets and saw no signs indicating any type of order, by letter or number. She pulled out one dripping file herself and viewed the contents while
standing. The first page contained information concerning un-named chipmunk births in Old Chatham, New York in 1787. The second had partial information about medical doctors practicing in Rhode Island in 1800. She put the file back and walked out, taking a backward glance at the man on his knees. He did not spring, but she caught him looking at her, with a big smile on his face, which he quickly stopped, putting his face back in the file. She particularly remembered this visit because it was the first smile she could recall seeing there.
Orpheus saw her reverie and sensed uncertainty and confusion. He said; “I’d feel a little more comfortable if you knew what you were trying to do.”
She wasn’t yet sure of what she wanted to do. The tribunal put Orpheus Christopher on the list of jobs she was given to do in 1825. But, she fell in love with him and now was sad to see that he loved Eurydice. Yes, she should have surmised, but her normally crystal clear view was clouded. Since falling in love her ethereal existence had slowly and confusingly been turning into flesh, which part now seemed dominant. She didn’t know what she wanted to do now and she further didn’t know where the people on her lists went. She wasn’t required to make the full trip, so she left them at a river, or on a mountain, or in a desert, or most anywhere, to finish their own journey.
She sternly said; “You human beings are full of questions.
Will you ever learn to just shut up?” She disappeared.
Orpheus thought that he was glad to still be alive. The sun was just beginning to make its presence known and he went downstairs, hoping that his mother was up and could validate his existence. He descended the stairs and sat at the kitchen table, seeing his mother heating up water in a metal pot hung over the ample fire. “Good morning, Mom,” he said.
He could see no reaction from the lady dressed in a flowing pale yellow and white floor length robe. Her head was adorned with a small white cap that looked more like a doily. How it remained on her long blonde hair was a mystery to him. More importantly, he wanted to have his presence noticed by the lady currently more interested in the pot’s water.
He more loudly called out; “What’s so interesting over there?”
He still obtained no reaction. His father entered the room already dressed in his work clothes; rough blue denim pants and a light tan button up heavy long sleeved shirt. He said; “I’m going out to the shed. I want to get as much done as I can, before it heats up.”
Mom looked at him and said; “See you later, hon.”
“It might be much later. I’m probably not getting any help today and I’ve got a lot of orders to fill.” He kissed his
wife’s cheek and walked to the front door, glancing in Orpheus’
direction, but didn’t say anything. At least he didn’t have a doily on his head, but Orpheus wished someone other than Death would speak to him, if only to tell him that he was horrible.
He called out loudly “I’m sorry, Mom.”
There was still no kind of response and Orpheus was worried that perhaps Death had taken him and that it was only his invisible spirit seeking attention. That would be a punishment he didn’t think he deserved, especially since he had just gotten to know Eurydice. He couldn’t stand the suspense and decided to get more overt. He walked over to his mother and grabbed her left arm with his right hand and gently pulled.
“Careful,” she exclaimed. “You’re going to make me scald myself with this hot water.”
Relieved, Orpheus said; “Oh, great, Mom. I promise I’ll always tell you when I’m going to be out wandering and when I’ll be home.” He meant that sincerely, but didn’t yet realize the impossibility of keeping such a promise.
She said; “That’s all we wanted to hear, son. Now, let me do this without setting myself on fire. I’ll soon have a big breakfast for you. You’re going to need it. Your father has a lot of work for you.”
Eurydice’s morning awakening was equivalently rude, but at least it wasn’t prompted by weird strangers. She was shaken from her dreamless state by her father’s hands rubbing her belly. He then pulled her up by the hands with his own.
He said; “Eurydice, we were worried about you.”
“Thanks,” she said, drowsily. “But as you can see I’m all right.”
Her mood was a dreamy good one, until her father slapped her face and said; “Don’t get impertinent with me.”
She was shocked. He had never previously struck her and she hadn’t always been an angel. She was also annoyed because she didn’t think she was being the least bit impertinent. Her eyes must have given away her private thoughts, as her father continued his admonishment by saying; “You not only had to go traipsing off with a boy, but he had to be a white one, right in front of the whole town.”
“The whole town, to which I think you’re referring, is the rich white people who ignored us all last night.”
“I’m sure they didn’t ignore you and your new boyfriend.”
“I don’t really care if they did or didn’t notice. If they’re going to ignore us socially it’s quite fine with me, but it’s not fair if they then scrutinize and comment on behavior that’s none of their business. If they want to ignore me, then ignore me completely.”
Her father’s face softened and he even made a little smile.
He softly said; “I don’t think it’s the least bit fair either.
But, you know damn well how it is. Right now I want to get this church and school started here. The people really need it and it’s going to require the cooperation of the people you have no feeling for.”
The construction of the church and school were now complete and finding customers was the order of the day. During the three year project, numerous people from most parts of town were employed and prosperity was on the rise in the east, west and south. Folks in the north saw no effect, as they were already prosperous and didn’t work for anyone other than themselves.
Jesus had indeed provided. The mixing of different types of people working together was found encouraging by most residents,
“working” being the key word. “Together” became a word with unspoken limitations, previously being absolute. A new word, like “limited togetherness” or “semi-togetherness,” was now necessary to have any hope of avoiding confusion and even then would require individual understandings and further clarification, suitable for essays.
Her face was always very expressive and he gathered that she was preparing to make some intricate philosophical comment.
He didn’t want to risk continuing a conversation he began contentiously and now had second thoughts about. Eurydice could
always melt his anger. He well knew her temper and wanted to avoid her using it to purposely make the situation worse. He already had made the points he wanted to. Any more would be mere repetition or pointless tangents. He kissed the cheek he had slapped, held her by the shoulders, looked into her eyes and said; “I don’t know, baby girl. If you had to get interested in a white boy, why couldn’t you have picked one of the rich ones?”
They both laughed and she pushed him back. She jumped out of bed and said; “Oh, that’s just like you, Daddy. Money makes everything all right.” She expected some response and hoped for a funny one, but instead he just looked at her warmly and said nothing. He hoped that they both understood the degree of truth in her last statement and didn’t want to resurrect a well-played-out discussion. He felt that he had chosen to recognize money’s well entrenched place in the world and so far, she seemed to have a penchant for defying it. He actually liked that aspect of her because he could still remember when he entertained similar notions. He never told her of that for a few reasons; it could possibly strengthen her resolution; she might find it hard to believe; and, it would most likely lead to a conversation that sounded like; “When I was your age, little girl...................”
They walked downstairs and sat at the dining room table already occupied by the lady of the house. Mom said; “Hi, girl.
You get a good night’s sleep?”
Eurydice said; “Good morning, Mom. Sure did, at least until the dreary bell of rationality resounded with a dull thud.”
The Chippendale grandfather’s clock set off eight slightly discordant chimes and the three of them could no longer contain themselves. Betsy walked slowly in, balancing cups and plates on a silver tray. She quietly served. When she finished Eurydice’s mom and dad said “Thank you, Betsy.”
Betsy looked back at the silent Eurydice as she walked away. Eurydice caught the questioning look, laughed and said;
“I’ll tell you all about it later, Betsy.”
Her parents then both gave Eurydice another questioning look, containing a hint of disapproval. She was not compelled to respond to the mute query.
By the time Eurydice was through with her morning rituals and spending an hour with Betsy, wherein, for once, she did most of the talking, the off-key clock had already chimed in its unadjusted opinion four more protracted times, hitting its high point at the last, with twelve.
As a result of commencing at the sun’s peak, when her walk got her to Orpheus’ house, her blue summer dress was clinging to
her body looking almost as if she didn’t use the bridge to cross the river.
Orpheus had put in a good morning’s work and saw her through the open barn door. “Dad, I’m going to take a little break.” His father’s eyes followed him to the door and he saw the curvy impetus for that break standing by the pots in front, one strap on each shoulder, both pretending to be holding up what was already well-held below.
Orpheus ran over to her, threw his arms around her waist and gave her a big squeeze, which she happily returned. He kissed her lips sweetly, then her eyes and then the top of her nose. He started to lick the sweat from her bare neck, when she pulled away, saying; “Baby, the day’s still young and your father is right there.”
Orpheus didn’t look back and said; “How was your morning?”
“Just a little bit difficult, but I think I handled it.
How about you?”
“Same.”
Orpheus’ mother came out the front door and called out;
“Come on in here. You both look like you could use some ice tea.”
The couple held hands and walked to the house. Orpheus followed his mother and led Eurydice to the kitchen table.
Introductions were made and Mom poured three glasses of ice tea
and stocked them with lemon slices. The three sipped their ice cold beverages.
Eurydice felt the least bit strange, sitting in the kitchen, with the fireplace blazing, as she did with Betsy, to the consternation of her father. She briefly entertained the thought that because she was black she was being steered into the servant’s domain. She dismissed the feeling when she recalled the diminutive size of the house, observed the fine quality of the Heppelwhite kitchen table and didn’t see any household help. She laughed to herself when she thought; “Some white people actually do things for themselves! They even congregate in the kitchen like house slaves.”
Mom said, “Eurydice. I’m not prone to beating around the bush, so please don’t be offended when I ask you if you know that you’re looking for trouble?”
Eurydice wanted a bit of clarification before answering.
She said; “Please bear with me a bit. Do you mean that I’m looking for trouble from you and your husband? And you directed that question at me. If there is some sort of trouble, isn’t Orpheus just as responsible?”
Mom touched the hand Eurydice had on the table and said;
“There will never be any trouble generated by my husband or me.
It’s just the rest of the world that could be a problem. And
secondly, I think Orpheus is as susceptible, but I also think that things could be much worse for you.”
Eurydice squeezed Mom’s fingers and said; “Mom, I know you bring this up because you care. I already talked about this to my father, using different words. My answer is that I suspect that something is coming. I don't know which rock it will crawl out from under, but it’s bound to be at least one of them. The ugly little minds of the world will always try to put limits on the others. They want everyone to be just as miserable as they are. But, I’ll tell you, I, for one am not going to be intimidated. Orpheus, have you got anything to say?”
“I can’t add anything to what you say. I agree with it all.”
Mom looked at both of them and said; “If you ever need any help you can count on me.”
All three parties to this conversation would come to remember it very well.
A little later Mom said; “Now that we all understand each other so well, let me ask you another gauche question. How come a black girl has a better command of the English language than the Christophers?”
They made genuine but polite smiles and Eurydice said; “I have an advantage over you. I’ve actually lived in England.”
Death entered the dimly lit corridor. Closed, darkly stained, heavy oak doors broke up the dirty gray walls. The large, elaborately carved, reddish brown stained cornices where the wall met the ceiling seemed a dichotomy. She passed by gold lettered signs on doors which said “Drugs and Medicines,” “Law,”
“Property,” “Weaponry” and “Money.” At the end of the hall, right in front of her face was the one she was looking for;
“Death, Taxes and Garbage.” Her coat was buttoned to the neck and her gloved left hand knocked twice lightly and she entered.
The five men seated at the table did not look up, but rather continued their perusal of some important papers, which they held in their hands, hiding most of their faces. Only able to get a good view from the severely wrinkled foreheads up she guessed that they were very, very old. Rather than something commanding more reverence their desk was topped by three wide pine boards, stained dark brown, resembling a picnic table. The five carcasses were resting on a backless bench of similar color and constitution. She could see the long black robes, which mimicked that of a priest or judge, covering their legs and hanging on the floor.
She approached the bench and not noting any possible seat, stood and said; “Excuse me. I’m Death. I believe we have an appointment.”
The ancient one in the middle looked up from his papers, exposing the rest of his pale white face. The deep lines and cracks on his checks, chin and lips made her think that he might start bleeding any minute when he croaked; “Sorry, yes, yes, you’re Death, aren’t you?”
Death was tempted to say; “Funny, I just thought I heard someone else say that.” However, considering the seriousness of the occasion, she merely said; “Yes, I am.”
The other four now looked up at her revealing that their exposed white flesh was in a similar condition as the middle man, but decorated with various red, blue and yellow makeups, in an apparent unsuccessful attempt to hide the cracks.
“Good, good,” said the spokesman in the middle. “Why did you request this meeting?”
“I want to retire.”
He paused a few seconds, no doubt surprised, fumbled for words and finally came up with; “You’ve been doing this for at least as long as we have records.”
“I believe I created the position.”
“Well, what’s the problem now? We can provide you with an assistant if necessary.”
She responded; “I just don’t feel like doing it anymore,”
which was true as far as it goes. But, as soon as the words came out, she realized that she should have been better
prepared. Feelings have no meaning here. She also, didn’t want to say the truth, which was that, despite being ordered, she primarily didn’t want to be tempted to bring Orpheus to the Pearly Gates, especially in anger over his temporary dalliance with Eurydice.
The middle man said what she expected; “You’re experiencing feelings?”
She tried to skirt the issue and said; “I should have said that I have tired of the position.”
“We can provide you with the best psychiatric help.” He looked at her, as if to say that a better explanation is required.
She detected the meaning and thought for a while. “I certainly have no use for a psychiatrist. I can only reiterate my previously spoken replies and respectfully request your learned judgment.”
“Thank you, but it’s not my judgment that is required. I receive rules, just like you, from others, who, in turn, have received them from others; who, in turn, have received them from others; etc., etc., probably to infinity. Excuse me, one moment.” He slowly got up from his seat and shuffled to the closed door of the back room, opened it, entered and shut the door behind him.
She looked at the concrete floor while she waited. She raised her eyes to see the four painted monsters staring at her silently. When she looked at them, they again covered up with their important papers. The spokesman for the group emerged from the back room with his left index finger inserted in a gigantic blue book. He placed it on the table, open to where his finger formerly resided and sat down. He said; “I may have the answer. Let me read it to you. It says that in the event of any demise or disability of Death, including, but not limited to poor performance, erratic behavior, disobeying instructions, or any other demonstration of individuality, she may be replaced by a Second Death. The “Death, Taxes and Garbage” five man tribunal shall be required to first, unanimously agree that Death’s replacement is necessary. Secondly, the Tribunal shall monitor her performance on a daily basis and thirdly, shall institute a search, consuming at least sixty days, for a replacement Second Death. That candidate shall be approved unanimously by all Tribunal members and ancillary departments.
Death, in turn, shall have the choice of oblivion, or becoming a mortal human being, as defined and be subject to the Second Death.”
Death shook her head from side to side slowly and said;
“Things were a lot simpler when I started this job.”
“No doubt. Things were much simpler then. We have a lot of work to do. First, I’d like to run this by the Law Tribunal.
I need clarification in certain areas and would like to get their written opinion that no other existing rule contradicts this one. Reference is specifically made to ‘demise or disability.’ This situation is really a ‘request.’”
Death didn’t worry about getting her needs met, anymore.
She could see that the rule was written in such a way that she could, in actuality, dismiss herself from the job any time she wanted, merely by not doing it. The tribunal had the burden of working out the details. So, she decided that she preferred to keep the power and the immortality and would try to restrain herself from killing Orpheus the next time she saw him with sweaty, black Eurydice. She said; “May I change my request?”
“Certainly, please do.”
“I’d like to keep my job, but request a fact finding project concerning the procedures entailed, if I did quit.”
“Whew. Of course. Thank you. We’ll get to work on that, immediately, but without the time pressure. Would you like to schedule another meeting in, say, ninety days, at which time we can tell you the progress we have made?”
She curtly said; “Yes.” She left the room, thinking that if she keeps her powers and she gets angry enough, she can kill that damn Eurydice, though not on her list and not kill Orpheus,
though he was on it. She could tell Orpheus that Eurydice was marked to die by the powers that be, whoever they are. How could he know better? What could the Tribunal and Orpheus do about it anyway? The Tribunal would get bogged down in unclear procedures and details. She could tell Orpheus it was an inevitability and how could he be sure of any argument that momentarily popped into his head? In a short time she could make him forget about Eurydice, doing what, more and more, seemed to be coming naturally for her.
Chapter 4- Sunrise and Fantasy Realized Orpheus woke up in his own bed the next day. He had recently learned to check the end of it and sure enough, there she was in all her dark splendor. If he had to have a visitor every morning, one of the female variety was preferable to Aazaziel. She was dressed in her usual outfit, the coat again open showing some fleshy thigh. He smiled and said; “Good morning, queen of my dreams.”
Death didn’t appreciate what she took for a degree of sarcasm and sternly said; “You were with her again yesterday, weren’t you?”
Feeling playful, he responded; “That’s a silly question.
If you are who you say you are, you already know the answer.”
“Don’t get funny with me. I can take you out of here easier than someone brought you in.”
“Is that how you talk to somebody you love?”
“You’re really pushing your luck, buster.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s start over again freshly. We have to get new names to call each other. It’s really weird for me to call you Death and I never really liked the name Orpheus. How about I call you ‘D’ and you call me ‘O’.”
She probably had her first smile of the day and she said;
“I like it. ‘D’ and ‘O’. If we go forward it’s ‘do’ and if we go backward it’s almost ‘odd’.”
“That’s if you put your name first. If you put mine first, it’s reversed.”
“You have a way of ending my short good moods. Why do you have to be difficult?”
“I guess I have a lousy sense of humor. I was trying to make you laugh. Truth be told, I don’t care which name goes first. Most of the time I don’t know if I’m going backward or forward anyway.”
“You look pretty forward to me, especially when you’re around Eurydice.”
“Not back to that again.”
“How do you expect me to feel under the circumstances?”
“I understand all too well. But what do you want me to do?
I love her.”
“I wish I knew. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before.”
“I wish I knew, too. For some strange reason I like you, but I have no control over the way I feel about Eurydice. She’s beautiful, brave and independent. And probably most importantly she loves me. Even if she leaves me, I’ll always love her.”
“I’m just beginning to understand such things.”
“Do you have any idea why you picked me?”
D spoke more firmly and seemed a bit annoyed. “None at all and I don’t think I did the picking. It seems to me that if I could control it, I’d have picked someone a lot better looking, with a lot more money. Maybe it’s those gigantic bulging lips of yours.”
“That suggests that you’re favoring your physical aspect.”
“I’m as physical as you.” Her left hand took hold of the seam of her skirt and lifted it. “Give me a kiss,” she said, looking down at him. O wryly smiled and looked into her demanding face a moment. He then settled into a promising, prolonged proposition, proving propulsive.
Later that morning Death decided to pay a visit to another house. Eurydice was already up, sitting in the kitchen with Betsy. She had the audacity to be clad only in her bra and panties, the panoramic display of black flesh shining, thanks to the morning sun streaming through the open window. To make matters worse from D’s viewpoint, she and Betsy were joking about various love games. Despite the day’s rousing start, D
was infuriated. She could have committed mayhem right there, but thought that if she did it at this particular moment Orpheus would know and never forgive her. Besides, why run the risk? O
seemed to be coming around to her point of view nicely. She invisibly continued to occupy the kitchen, listening and using her ice cold blue eyes.
Eurydice twirled on the chair to follow Betsy’s movement back to the fire. She excitedly said; “And his mother’s nice and said she’d help us if necessary. She’s funny, too.”
Betsy said; “Was his father there?”
Eurydice paused a few seconds, surprised that she didn’t even think about that. “No, he was out working in the barn.”
She paused again, then added; “He knew I was there. If he wanted me to leave he would have said so.”
“People aren’t always obvious. You say he knew you were there, right? If he had good manners, he would at least have come over and said ‘hello’.”
Eurydice laughed, saying; “I don’t think any of the Christophers have good manners.” She thought to herself that she might try to cultivate Dad’s friendship, or at least try to get a feel for where he stands on things. It didn’t seem to matter much, anyway, as he didn’t appear to be a stumbling block. She didn’t think that she would ever need anyone’s help, but, if she did, she wouldn’t mind having another place to go.
Eurydice asked; “Wasn’t your husband always out working?”
“Yeah, girl. But he had no choice, he was a slave. I’ll tell you that if he was free, he’d of been out somewhere, but I
don’t call that working.” Betsy rolled her eyes and made a snorting laugh.
Eurydice got a laugh out of it, too, but at the same time wondered if her Orpheus could ever be like that. She decided that he couldn’t.
His father had been working hard lately and was not yet up, so after coffee Orpheus went right out to the barn to get things started. Aazaziel was already there and had the fire going.
This morning he sported a black coat with very padded shoulders and a turned up large collar. Today he had some black shiny material painted on his head. From a distance it gave the appearance of hair, but with a closer view the feel was more that of a skull cap. His dead eyes stared into the fire as he puffed his perennial cigarette.
Orpheus was in a very good mood, so he called out; “At least you’re doing something useful today.”
“Fire is arguably the most important thing on earth.
Speaking of which, I have to tell you that you are getting yourself into one hell of a situation.”
“You saw the morning show?”
“I see shows whenever I like.”
Orpheus wasn’t particularly fond of the thought, though didn’t know any way to stop him and contentiously said; “Do you ever act in a show, or are you only a watcher?”
“I always take the easy job. By the way, was that supposed to be a comedy this morning?”
“Did you laugh?”
“Here and there.”
“Then, I guess it was a comedy, here and there.”
“You know that D is lying to you, don’t you?”
“I can’t say that I know that. But, with all the weird things going on here, including you, I don’t think I know anything.”
“Well, I’m telling you that she is. I’ve known her for years.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Why should you believe her?”
“None of your business. I don’t have to explain to you.”
Aazaziel blew smoke out his nose in resignation. He said;
“She has known every man since the beginning of time. Are you enough of an egomaniac to think that you’re the first one she loved? Look at you.” He threw his cigarette into the flame in disgust. “I’m your real friend and you don't know it.”
“Well, don’t pull up your skirt. I’m not interested.”
“Funny. Look, pal, tell me the simple truth. Have I ever lied to you?”
“I don't know. I don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about you. If you haven’t, great. If you have, I don’t care.”
He lit another cigarette in the fire. “You’re impossible.
I’m going to go see someone a lot more important than you, who’s also a lot more intelligent.”
“I wish you’d go see somebody.” Orpheus laughed and added;
“With that outfit, did you plan on flying around with the bats?”
“I already have. I was here long before you when it was still dark.”
“What do you use to see?”
“My innate sense to avoid crashes. Little man, you know, if I felt like it I could set you on fire, but I’m not going to, because I’m your friend, like it or not.”
“I really appreciate the favor, pal, but seriously, I don’t trust you. You must want something from me.”
Aazaziel looked at the dirt floor and then looked Orpheus square in the eye and said; “I’m going to try one more time today, only because I like you and think you need a lot of help.
If you had any brains at all you would see that Death has already lied to you and that Eurydice eventually will.”
“What I see is that when I look into their eyes I feel a heart rendezvous. When I’m unfortunate enough to be close to you, your eyes look like a dead, bottomless pit.”
Aazaziel screeched loudly and flew out the open door, brushing by Orpheus.
A few seconds later Orpheus’ dad entered the barn and said;
“Who were you talking to?”
Orpheus attempted to be both truthful and nonsensical simultaneously and said; “Oh, the devil is bothering me again.”
Dad somberly and somewhat humorously replied with no inflection; “Bastard is always around. Best thing to do is refuse to acknowledge his existence. Really bothers him.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I know, Or. I got a few years on you. But just remember one big thing. He’s trickier than most people realize, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to get away with all his crap.”
“What’s his best trick?”
“Well, you know that everybody says that the devil is a liar. Trick is that if he always lied, he’d be easy to deal with. You could just do or believe the opposite of what he says. The devil knows that, so he tells what seems true and helpful most of the time and then after he’s gained your confidence, he lays the big lie on you, that ruins your life.”
Orpheus questioned; “I guess you’ve beaten him at his own game?”
Dad smiled and said; “Thanks, son. But, quite honestly, I don’t know for sure. I probably still have a lot of road to walk and I won’t be able to say for sure until the end.”
Orpheus was trying to absorb the new thoughts and didn’t know what to say or ask next. Consequently he stared at his father’s impassive face.
Dad read the question loud and clear. He added; “Just keep a good heart and you’ll figure out the details when you need to.” He still saw a somewhat perplexed look on his son’s face, but thought it was a bit less so than a moment prior. He didn’t have anything else to add at the moment. He could only think of specific circumstances he had experienced, but the stories needed prologues, contexts, guesses, nuances, relative moralities and generally, necessitated novel length explanations, to avoid possible misunderstandings. So, instead of unsuccessfully attempting to write an impromptu book, with no chance to edit it, he put his hand behind Orpheus neck, pulled him to his chest, pushed him away and said; “I’m really tired and I don’t feel like making any nails today. I’ll bet you’ve got other things on your mind, anyway.”
Orpheus grinned and slightly nodded.
Dad said; “See, I know some things. You haven’t even gotten your pots out front and if you don’t feed Molly soon, she’s going to eat the fence and attack somebody. So, take care of those two things and then do whatever you like all day. I’m going to get some more sleep.” He turned toward the door, took a few steps, turned back and added; “Oh yeah, put out the fire too.”
Orpheus giggled, sunk his head into his shoulders and, in a few moments said; “Okay.”
Dad returned the giggle and said; “I know that’s the hardest part.” He waved his left hand and walked back to the house.
Orpheus hurriedly doused the flames and scurried with his pots and sign to the road. Molly watched him in disbelief and brayed as loudly as she could, as if to say; “You’ve got your priorities all wrong and I don’t like it one little bit.”
Orpheus heard her loud and clear, put his right index finger in the air, which she had come to understand means; “Right away,”
ran to the barn and came back with two hay bales. He threw one over the fence and kept one near him, while he freshened up her water supply. Molly left her hay, went to the trough and gave Orpheus a nip on his neck. It didn’t break skin, but he felt it and recoiled. He looked into the eyes on her gigantic head, sighed and smiled at her. He rubbed his left hand under her
chin and used his right to furiously pet her snout. He said; “I miss you, too. I’ve been spending so much time making pots, nails, D and Eurydice that I haven’t been spending enough time with you. Well, it’s still early and I’m with you.” He stood there and watched her refresh herself, ready to move if she decided on a playful bite. He threw the second bale over and rubbed her derriere. Molly showed no reaction and somehow the brown, meaty and furry flesh gave him thoughts of other delectable things.
Orpheus walked west with the sun at his back, a clear blue sky ahead and a pleasant, modest and intermittent zephyr all around. Arriving at Eurydice’s house, through an open window, he saw Betsy and she having an animated jocular conversation, both sitting at the kitchen table. He knocked and Betsy met him at the door.
Orpheus grinned and said; “I hope I didn’t come in the middle of anything.”
Betsy, having never before seen Orpheus, but knowing it was him, eyed his thin, five foot nine body and recalled a young man she knew down in Alabama, many years ago, who was sold to another farm in Georgia. She said; “Lawdy, if it ain’t Tuskegee Tom, after years in the bleach shop.”
Orpheus thought he got the gist, but wasn’t sure and cautiously ventured; “I don’t think so.”
Betsy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hallway. She said; “I don’t think so either, but you’re about as dumb as he was.”
Eurydice heard the interchange, left her seat and entered the hallway. She said to Betsy; “Why you pickin’ on my baby boy?”
Betsy said; “I ain’t pickin’ on Orpheus,” and pushed him in Eurydice’s direction.
He went into her open arms and said; “Protect me, mama.”
She said; “Not only will I protect you, I’ll feed you, too.
Betsy and I have assembled a picnic basket, in expectation of your arrival.” She put her left index finger to his lips and he gently bit it. They bid their au revoirs to Betsy and walked east, toward the river. Her somewhat dressy, light blue, short-sleeved dress contrasted his denim pants and rolled-up work shirt in all respects, excepting color.
Holding hands and walking side by side, they walked the slate path east toward the bridge, somewhat blinded by the sun directly in their eyes. She motioned with her head and they got off the path when they reached the crossover, heading north into an area of gentleman’s farms. They found a thicket of willows, none yet weeping, ten feet from the steadily moving water, which sang an old mellow song. Nobody recalled the words, so rather than singing verbally, they simultaneously started to remove
garments. Each eyed the other’s progress and tried to keep an even pace, oblivious to anybody or anything that might be lurking in the proximity. Mission accomplished, they took hands and ran into the water, laughing. The initial shock of the new cold flow wore off almost instantaneously, while their minds became focused on trying to keep each other standing on the slippery and rocky river bed, as tons of force did its best to carry them downriver. Satisfied that they could withstand at least some of nature’s fury, they held onto each other, returned to solid land and laid down, his right leg on top of her warm left one. Pulsating piglets promptly palpated, partaking pubescent patriotism, piercing primal proscriptions. As they moved around, alternating views and positions, in the distance they got glimpses of a couple in front of a grand Georgian house they could see on the northern shore, kiss the stars and stripes, then raise the Revolutionary flag, in defiance of the covert colonialists.
They ate and drank the contents of their basket, in what seemed like seconds to him. He looked into her now faraway eyes, which were currently attracted to the flowing water jumping over the rocks and any other obstacles in its path. He implored; “That went so quickly.”
She diverted her attention back to him, rubbed his cheek and said; “Don’t worry, baby. There will be a bigger, new basket tomorrow containing other delights.”
Orpheus said; “Maybe we can keep this going forever.”
Eurydice slightly raised her eyebrows and said; “Maybe.”