Death Or Eurydice by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 16- The Split
Aazaziel made a grand exit, bringing his favorite life’s work with him. He seemed to linger in a shadow, perhaps expecting applause. When he was greeted with silence, he shrugged and completely disappeared.
Orpheus tried to move away from Eurydice, fearing that she would attempt to remove his only way to be with his love. She forgot the temporary amusement created by the big flytrap and reverted to the mood she was in when she first got home.
She said; “I’m serious. Take that damn thing off. I don’t like it.”
Orpheus didn’t have anything better to say than the truth, though he had monumental suspicions that it would only make matters worse. He said; “I can’t take this off. If I look at you, you’ll disappear and we’ll never see each other again.”
She just looked at him and then realized that he couldn’t see her expression and said; “You’ve got to be putting me on, right?”
He emphatically said; “I’ve never lied to you and never will.” When he heard no reply, he considered continuing, but also thought that she might retain an ear of disbelief, but concluded that he would try it anyway. “Death took you, Eurydice. You were dead. I brought you back from the underworld, but this ‘not
seeing you’ business was dropped on me later. Don’t misunderstand. If the deal was given to me up front, I would have taken it anyway.”
“So, if I choose to believe that lame story, then I owe you my life.”
“I wouldn’t say it that way.”
“Then how would you precisely articulate that one?”
“You know that you’re really forcing me to make a very quick reaction to a very tricky situation.”
“Yes, I’m forcing you.” She raised her voice; “I deserve it.”
“The best way I can think of saying it right now is that we owe each other our lives.”
“So, it’s equal.”
“Yes, I love you, damn it.”
She thought back to the recently established pattern; she comes home after a long unpleasant day. He charms her with words.
They dance. Tomorrow morning her misery starts all over again.
Maybe he does think that he loves me, but the net result of my being with him is prolonged unhappiness. If he really did love me, he wouldn’t allow that. He did say that I could quit the job any time I wanted, but where would that leave us? Somebody would have to go out and get us something to eat and I know that somebody is going to be me. His rationale was quickly following
the way of Aazaziel. There was no use to her in pursuing this line of argument, so she tried to keep it simple and of this earth, saying; “I saw you with that white girl today.”
“Yes, you told me you did.”
“So?”
“So, it’s not what you think.”
“Don’t pretend you can read my mind. What is it?”
“That was Death. I call her D now. She was responsible for your death.”
“So, I guess you were showing her your appreciation?”
At the risk of losing his mask, Orpheus moved in the direction of her voice, reached out for her and said; “Oh, baby.”
She moved away from him, saying; “Don’t give me that stuff.
All I ever hear from you lately sounds like you think I’m a complete idiot.” She screamed; “At least take off that stupid mask.”
He moved back, putting his hands over his eyes to keep the blindfold in place and as a backup in case she tried to yank it off.
She said; “I’m not going for your mask. Right now I don’t want to come anywhere near touching you. So, I’m going to ask you just once more. Will you please take off that ridiculous mask?”
When she got no response she said; “I don’t want to be here anymore. As tired as I am, I’m going to walk to my father’s house and stay there a while.”
He heard her footsteps getting more distant in the brittle leaves lying on the ground. He called out; “I love you, Eurydice,” and he cried, soaking his mask.
She moved quickly through the decaying woodland, found the main path, followed it to the “T” and went westward toward her father’s house. She stopped momentarily at the river, looked back and collected her thoughts. Her life was not becoming anything like she ever imagined it would be. Orpheus was acting bizarrely. She was now certain that there was some other woman in his life and indeed, a white one who looked like she’d been around for some time. Her parents would no doubt be leaving Sudbury soon and if the three of them left together maybe the catalysts for the recent racial and economic strife would be gone. As far as she knew, Sudbury had been a peaceful place prior to the countless black feet trudging their way to school and church and prior to her open pairing with that philanderer.
She was accustomed to things better than this. In London she was generally treated with respect and perhaps an overly solicitous curiosity. As annoying as it was at times, being made to feel like some sort of cultural freak, it was preferable to this. She would miss that thick lipped, charming white boy,
but if she stayed here she would also miss her mom, dad and Betsy. She thought of turning back, but was already tired from so much walking and the troubling events of the still young day.
She was out of thoughts and lingered for another minute looking back in the direction of Orpheus’s parents and Lettie’s house, seeing neither. Her view was that of healthy nude fall trees, no doubt drawing perennially from the Hoosatonic, framed by a sky that was neither blue, white, nor gray, but rather a mixture of the three. The undefined clouds filtered out the sun, which appeared to be and was as useless as a generalized, huge, flat dirty mirror sitting in an unlit room. Her gaze turned once more in the direction of the house she shared with Orpheus and some mystery slut. She couldn’t return under the circumstances. Tears filled her eyes and she whispered; “I’ll find some way back.”
She turned and briskly crossed the bridge. When she got to the charred ruins she saw two horses hitched to a small covered wood wagon. She walked down the decimated garden path to the door and opened it. She wasn’t noticed as her parents and Betsy were scampering around trying to be sure that they had not left anything behind.
Eurydice called out; “Already?”
Reverend Paul heard her and replied; “Oh, hi, baby. You saved us a trip to the bakery. Yeah, we got our marching orders.”
Ruth walked over and hugged her daughter. She started crying; “I’m gonna miss you, baby girl.”
Eurydice frantically asked; “Where are you going?”
Ruth brushed back the short hair that crowned her slightly overweight, average sized body, shrugged and said;
“Albuquerque.”
Eurydice’s eyes questioningly widened and she said;
“Albuquerque? That’s the other side of the world.”
Ruth nodded somewhat dejectedly.
James interceded and said; “That’s what I’ve heard, too.
But I’m also told that there are some folks out there who might need what we were trying to do here, just on a smaller scale.”
Eurydice was shocked at the suddenness of it all. She held her mother and joined her in the soggy eye department. Knowing that this was not the time for a counseling session she blurted out; “This is the worst day of my life, I might never see you again.”
Ruth tried to think of something positive and came up with;
“All little girls grow up and get married. Who knows, maybe we’ll come back in a while and maybe you’ll move out there.”
Eurydice’s emotions were understandably more than she could handle. She spouted out; “June Boy feels me up all day, the customers laugh at me and Orpheus has a girlfriend.”
Reverend Paul furrowed his brow, looked right at his daughter and said; “What did you say?”
Eurydice actually managed a smirk and said; “I shouldn’t have said girlfriend. This one hasn’t been called anything with girl in it for at least twenty-five years.”
Reverend Paul continued; “You’ve seen her?”
Eurydice nodded and said; “Yes, a few times.”
Reverend Paul’s face turned to steel and he angrily said;
“Damn white **** started already? That’s intolerable.” The thought crossed his mind that Orpheus’s involvement with his little girl might have more to do with curiosity than love. He certainly wasn’t doing anything to support her properly. His temper flared further and he retrieved a clothes line from a drawer. He said; “Like it or not, you’re coming with us.”
When he tried to tie her hands Eurydice only resisted the slightest bit. By the time he got to her feet she was perfectly calm.
Eurydice implored; “Where is Betsy? Is she coming with us?”
Betsy was lingering in the adjoining room, listening, but not wanting to get overtly involved in family affairs.
James called out; “Betsy, come on out here.”
Betsy entered, hugged the moist eyed girl and said; “No, baby. I can’t go to no Albuquerque. All my friends are here.”
Eurydice lifted her tied hands, put them around her and said; “Except for a few.”
Betsy lost it and burst into tears. She chokingly said;
“You’ll always be in my heart.” She gave Eurydice one last squeeze, then slipped out of their embrace.
Eurydice said; “I’ll miss you the most, Betsy. Can’t you come?”
Betsy shook her head from side to side and said; “No, baby.
I’ve got a new little girl I have to take care of here. You remember me, though and remember one other thing, too. There are millions of guys out there, but you’ve only got one daddy.”
James picked up Eurydice and carried her to the back of the wagon, tying her to an overhead support beam. He said; “Now, I know we got everything. Let’s go, Ruth.”
James and Ruth climbed to the wagon seat and he gave the horses a gentle slap with the reins and they were on their way, Eurydice looked out the open back door at a waving Betsy. She wished she could do the same.
Eurydice stared until Betsy was out of sight and then looked at her traveling companions. She saw trunks filled with clothes, books and personal items. Apparently none of the Queen
Anne, Chippendale or Heppelwhite furniture was making the trip.
It seemed suiting that they stay with the house. Maybe all the bad things are left behind.
Despite Eurydice’s presence, Reverend Paul decided to make a call at the bakery. After he threw all the goods on the floor, he punched June Boy in the face twice, knocking him to the ground, spit in his face and left.
As soon as the wagon was out of town, Eurydice had a change of heart and yelled out; “Daddy, let me out of here. I don’t want to go.”
Reverend Paul stopped the horses and went into the back where Eurydice was getting nowhere tugging at the ropes. He said; “I knew this would happen. That’s why I kept you tied.
Calm down and think about it. You’re still so young, too young to be tied to a festering bowl of white squalor.”
He again took the reins and started moving. Eurydice comforted herself, as much as possible, with the thought that whether she went, or whether she stayed, she would be leaving people she loved, maybe forever. And under the circumstances, if she decided sometime in the future that she didn’t like the results; she could always blame her daddy. Wasn’t that what fathers were for?
Orpheus walked back to the house sans mask, with his eyes on the ground. Upon entering, he saw D with her pants still off. He said; “Come on D, not now. I think my life got ruined today and I’m in no mood.”
D said; “Sorry, I should have understood. I’ve been selfishly thinking of myself. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? It makes me crazy. I’m really not going to try to fit in those damn shorts again, though.”
She disappeared and a few seconds later returned with a floor length green dress. She retained the off white peasant blouse, the black eyeliner and pale orange lipstick. She said;
“Let’s create lots of flowers today.”
He said; “I think that today I’m going to change my specialty to the dark colors.”
She made no retort, hoping that he didn’t accidentally say something of importance.
He continued; “If I look at her, she’s gone. If I don’t look at her, she’s gone. Is this the garbage life is made of?”
D said; “I know little of life. Up until very recently, you might recall, I was known as Death.” They sat on the floor and she experimented with the light colors.
Darkness crept its unfeeling inevitable presence into Sudbury. As he lit the hurricane lamps, Orpheus was very worried about his estranged bride. Somehow he knew that she was
not coming back that night, but perked himself up a bit when he decided that most likely she was spending the night with the Reverend. His guess was good, as far as it went. He said; “D, why don’t we just cut it. I can’t see well enough to paint any more anyway.”
She said; “Maybe they’ll come out better if we work blind.”
He considered the thought. If he was having problems seeing the brush strokes, he would no doubt have even more trying to see words in books. He tried to think of an interesting topic for discussion, but his mood told him that anything said would be meaningless and stupid. This half-light, half-dark, twilight condition was only good for one thing he could think of. He looked at the long green dress D was wearing and considered the relief possible in hiding himself, by immersing his eyes in the completely dark area of nutrition.
Painstaking preliminaries produced para-mutual partaking.
At daybreak the sun’s slow sleepy ascent deposited its golden rays on the green dress, permeating every space in the fabric. The sight of his nighttime penchant made it an illuminated predilection. He got a casual, slow start on the day, not finishing breakfast until near noon in his languid state.
His proboscis permeated the plethora of plumage and plain perfumery, his practiced palate performed protractedly and preferentially on the perforation, pads of pulchritude and
pronounced protrusion. His piety paid profusely and it poured powerless. Praise the Princess of Peace and her prodigious pie.
D gave him an exhausted smile, pulling him by the hair. He thanked her liberally for the coffee, bacon, ham and eggs and went off to track down Eurydice. As soon as he got out the door, he realized his stupidity. If he was successful in finding her, she would disappear. If he used D as his eyes, Eurydice might see her and that would only add fuel to the flames. He stood outside and again pondered the situation. It was the same old story; if he looked at her she’d be gone and if he didn’t look at her she’d probably be gone. How could he look at her and not look at her at the same time, that’s the real question of a lifetime. Could he look at her as if she were someone else? That doesn’t sound like anything better than a technicality that wouldn’t be decided in his favor. He hated to do this, but since D was in a good mood, he’d ask her to run an errand for him.
Chapter 17- Taking Care of Business He went back in the house and mock-sheepishly said; “D, can you do me a favor?”
She knowingly made an obligatory, short smile and a cheery;
“Sure.”
“Can you go find Eurydice for me?”
D was waiting for this one and responded quickly; “Sure and when I find her, I’ll say that I’m Orpheus’ girlfriend and he wants you to come home. He can’t do it himself because he’s wearing a blindfold.”
“Good point. Maybe you can just find her and then bring me there.”
“Don’t you understand sarcasm? In no way am I going to try to find her. Come on. Don’t you ever think of my feelings?”
He cuddled and kissed her and said; “You’re right. I’m sorry I asked. I guess I feel desperate. Don’t go. I’ll just sit here and worry all day.”
She said; “I know you’re trying to tug on my heart strings.” She paused and added; “And the god damn thing about it is that it works. But, don’t you care that you’re tugging?”
“I don't know what I’m doing or thinking. Everything is getting circular. Break your heart or break my own. Break her heart and break my own. Try to love her, break her heart. Try
to love you and break yours. I can’t do anybody any good and dammit, I’m trying my best. But, consider the pressures I’ve been under for the last year. Keep in mind I’ve had a fairly normal life. Then all of a sudden I meet the love of my life, a crazy lady who says she’s Death and some little bald-head nut, who tries to act like an agent of the devil. Come on, now.
Give me a break.”
D laughed and said; “Oh yeah, I see your point. It’s kind of funny when you think about it that way. It’s a wicked game.
The only possible happiness for us is if Eurydice does something to make you hate her.”
“And then, I’ll think that she did it falsely, to make things easier for me.”
“And the only way for you and Eurydice to be happy is if I leave and you start making money from our paintings.”
“Maybe we should all just be alone.”
“It doesn’t work. Take my word.”
“Suicide?”
“We may be doomed to re-incarnation. I really don't know, but it sounds like one considering suicide must hurt all the time. We have our pleasurable diversions. Maybe more time should be devoted to them.”
“Then, when it’s over, it’s back to the suffering.”
“Who says it has to be over? I can go on virtually forever if I feel like it. Any female can. It’s you who has a problem.”
“So, you’re saying women are eternal?”
“Sexually, they are. Men can be eternal, too, if they discover other sexual organs, that don’t wear out. When you stop talking you seem to have some insights into the matter.”
He said; “I just remembered something I have to take care of. I’ve got to peck on the prolific primeval pit.” He got on his knees and cleaned out the fireplace.
Later in the day, D felt sorry for him and his worries about Eurydice. She would have him for eternity; maybe she could tolerate her for a lifetime. She decided to sacrifice herself and go looking for the black absentee.
D chose to walk, feeling more and more human. Why not get the whole experience. She followed the declining sun west. She also needed time to think everything over. It was all too complicated for her, like being trapped in a circle when you want to get back to the straight path that meets it on one spot.
So, the plan is easy. Find that spot. Her old job was easier.
Maybe it’s not so great to be human. Anyway, she already had made her important choices. Might as well concentrate on what she was doing. What if she hits me? That’s easy, run like hell. Who do I tell her I am? I’m D, a friend of Orpheus, who
is worried about you. Why can’t he come himself? Okay, he broke his leg with that stupid mask on. That ought to do it.
Mental masturbation proved to be merely amusing, as Eurydice was not at the house, nor the bakery. The house looked cleared out.
When she got back home she told Orpheus that “She was gone and that most likely she left with her folks.”
He said; “She wouldn’t do that.”
D just looked at him and waved her hands and shrugged her shoulders.
He added; “Maybe somebody can confirm that.” His tone dropped down to perfectly calm with no expectations. “Let’s make a bunch of flowers no one has ever seen before.”
Eurydice wasn’t a happy camper either. When she got to the middle of New York, she was no longer the least bit pleased to be sitting on the floor of a wooden wagon going down bumpy dirt roads. At times she stood at the back door window and watched the place she was leaving. The next time the Reverend stopped to get the horses water she called out; “Dad, I can’t sit in here anymore.”
He said; “Are you going to run away?”
“No, I’m settled.”
“All right. I’ll trust you.” He climbed in the back and untied the ropes.
“Thanks. Even if I wanted to I wouldn’t want to try to make it all the way back alone and without food. Are we still in New York?”
“Yeah and we will be for a while more. This whole trip is going to last until July next year.”
“If I can get myself a decent seat, I think I’ll enjoy the trip. I want to see what’s ahead before it attacks me.”
“You sound like an old lady.”
“I learn fast.”
He sighed and held her a second. “Come on up on the seat with mom and me.” She took the left side, her mother silently on the right.
Eurydice; “So, am I still disowned?”
Reverend; “No and you never were. I didn’t file any papers. I just wanted everyone to believe that I did. Turns out, it didn’t make a bit of difference. A waste. Sorry.”
Eurydice; “Okay, you’re forgiven. I understand. When are you going to let me take the reins?”
“I think you’ve already had them. Want to try again so quickly?”
“Sure.”
D eventually found her way to Betsy, who apparently had told the news to half the town. She relayed this to Orpheus, who wasn’t upset. As the days passed, each one made her permanent departure the most likely scenario. After the continual revolving of the thoughts, feelings and hopes, in a few weeks he settled into the inevitability of what was and loved D for helping him through. He took D’s hand and softly said; “She sure fooled me.”
D said; “Want some time alone?”
He said; “Yeah, thanks.”
“I’ll take a walk to the river.”
It was beginning to feel like winter. The gray clouded sky threatened rain during the day and snow at night, establishing a dreary countryside. Northern winds prompted her to consider turning back. She kept walking thinking; “Now Orpheus will miss her forever and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”
When she got to the river she got a long view. The river, the trees, the sky, the houses, everything looked gray and it was impossible to discern where one thing ended and another started. She turned her head to a noise on the water. It was some kind of bird with a fish in his beak, using his wings to slowly swim to the riverside. He could have made a better choice, but he picked his land re-entry spot where it was three feet above the water. He kept trying to climb the vertical hill
and falling back in the water. At this point she correctly concluded that this poor bird could not fly in the least. She got discouraged watching him time and again try and fail, so she turned away. When the revolving panorama of grays returned her eyes to the spot he was gone. She wished that she’d continued watching, as now she’d never be sure if he made it. She was certain no bird carcasses were floating in the water. She kept looking at the treed land hoping to get a glimpse of him somewhere. He may have succeeded in hiding from one whose sympathy and attention he had no use for, without ever realizing that he was admired for his abilities, not the lack of them.
Her reverie was rudely interrupted by a gunshot across the river, the northern sector. A lifeless bird body splashed in the water and a golden retriever did his job. The hunter took the limp black bird from its mouth, put it in a wooden box and looked in D’s direction. She looked back unafraid and with a contempt he couldn’t see. The absurd standoff continued and D
wished that she had one extra execution left in her. The hunter called out; “Perfect shot, wasn’t it?”
D called back; “It would have been if you reversed the barrel and the butt.”
The hunter aggressively said; “What do you mean by that?”
“Just what I said, genius. Which of those big words do you not understand?” She saw him staring icily at her and realized
that if he was a good enough shot to hit a flying bird, it probably wouldn’t be difficult for him to hit her. She decided that she had all she could tolerate of the cold wind, turned and left. When she was again surrounded by trees she felt secure and wanted to give Orpheus more time alone. She kept moving to keep somewhat warm, but zigzagged around maximizing the distance traversed.
“What a place,” she said to herself when she saw another man carrying a rifle, holding two dead rabbits by their ears.
The elderly black man must have read the look on her face when he volunteered; “This is my dinner, lady.” She didn’t have any bright answer for him and he didn’t care to hear one, anyway.
She thought; “At least this one didn’t tell me what a good shot he was.”
She thought about her former means of employment. Sure, she had executed people, but they were just names given to her on lists. Many were suffering from something or other. Some were in constant physical pain. Some were alone and anguished.
She had always considered herself merciful. She didn’t understand or feel the least bit good about taking out otherwise healthy young men, young women in childbirth and kids. Hers was a world of blind rules dictated by someone no one knows, but defended and supervised by many would be executives. Often, at times when she was ordered to end the life of someone healthy,
loved and needed by their families, she wondered what would happen if she just said; “No.” Now she was getting an idea and this mortality gig seemed even more difficult and absurd. Maybe things will get better.
When she got back to the house, Orpheus was waiting by the door and put his arms around her and gave her a big hug and said; “I love you. I don’t say that often enough.”
She laughed; “I’m not sure you’ve ever said it. Maybe I ought to leave you alone more often.”
“I got nervous when I heard gunshots.”
“I saw two hunters. But, the hell with them. Let me tell you about the great bird that I saw at the river.”
She recounted the story. He half-listened silently. When she finished he said he wanted to do some more flowers, but she said; “Those things are beginning to pile up. We’ve got to try to get rid of some.”
He really didn’t want to hear that, but knew she was right.
“Yeah, I can make some pots and glue the tins to them. But, I’ve got a new problem. Where do I try to sell them? No one walks by here, like they did at my parents’ house.”
“I’ve already thought about that. We’ve got to get a place in town.”
“I really don’t want to move out of here.”
“No, I mean just getting a little studio or something.”
“Sounds fine. Can we afford it?”
“Yeah, probably, I have my ways. Why don’t you get going on the pots and I’ll see what I can arrange.”
She changed into warmer clothes and covered them with a calf length black cape. He looked at her as he had not previously seen the outfit and was impressed.
He said; “That looks ominous.”
“I was hoping it looked sophisticated and maybe French.”
“Why French?”
“People respect them. They often complain about ones they’ve never met, but they’d all secretly like to switch places.”
When she returned she was excited and burst into the house saying; “I got the best of both worlds. I got someone to stock them in their store and sell them for us. We don’t have to pay any rent. See how well my French act works?”
“What store?”
“The general store, which is great, because it gets the most traffic. The economy, being what it is, leaves the owners with lots of empty space to fill.”
For the next few days D painted and started using more bright colors. Orpheus did the pots and the gluing and they were a perfectly efficient team in business.
Aazaziel was unsettled and didn’t understand why. At low points he viewed himself as being out of business, or on vacation and not enjoying it. At more optimistic moments he fancied himself the protagonist of the dis-ease being experienced by the good people of Sudbury. He had little doubt that he had done his work well and had recently been the cause of a good amount of discontent, meritorious of a well-deserved break, but he was artistically stymied. He spent his days staring at the blank canvas or looking out the window, hoping for inspiration and smoking a lot of cigarettes. Nature didn’t tell him any story, at least not one he was capable of comprehending.
He considered getting some beer, but decided that would probably inspire him to paint a barbeque and it was a bit cold for that. “Damn it, this used to be so easy. What changed everything?” He didn’t recognize any difference, but thought it was a good thing to think about from as many directions as possible. It was kind of central to everything.
After much cogitation, the brightest idea he got was that the season had changed. He had advanced. Now, the next questions were, “So what?” and “To what?”
Chapter 18- An Uneasy Truce and Business Almost as Usual Eurydice was enjoying her trip. By February the trio was in Indiana and she was regularly taking the reins. She continually glanced at the horses, amazed at their size, yet so easily guided. Raven and Hawk were similar in girth and somehow always managed to be in step. Raven seemed to have been simply and appropriately named. She was all black. Hawk, on the other hand, must have obtained his moniker from someone who didn’t know him. Eurydice couldn’t see anything hawk-like in his behavior or looks. Maybe it was some kind of wishful thinking generated by his first owner. Maybe it was the sense of humor that calls the big guy “Tiny.” Who cares, anyway? Now she could name them anything she chose.
She would consider the words intrepid, graceful and beautiful. She was impressed how they handled the climate change without any complaint or change in attitudes. They just went on. Indiana winters are damn cold and snowy, but the couple showed no signs of noticing. Maybe they were built better than humans. Horses have been the subject of painting since men drew in caves. Various demeanors and stages of their lives have been represented.
Eurydice was in a daydream. Like the horses she disregarded the weather and she thought about sex. Orpheus
should be here right now priming the primitive perceptor of the paranormal.
Her father noticed her far-away look and interrupted her reverie, by saying; “Eurydice, are you paying attention to what you’re doing?”
Though jolted back to reality, she calmly said; “Kind of.
I was thinking about the horses and I want to rename them.”
Her father said; “Well, they’re ours now. I suppose you can. But, watch the road a little bit.”
“I’m doing that much. How about changing Raven to Dauntless and Hawk to Gallant?”
“Aren’t they kind of the same thing?”
“In some ways yes, but I think of Dauntless something like
‘nothing’s going to stop me’ and Gallant as having something to do with chivalry.”
“All right. Let’s use those names. I hope we don’t confuse them.”
“Maybe they know their right names and don’t pay much attention to what we call them, anyway.”
The journey continued to be a placid one, affording ample time for further reflection, necessary after the family’s recent experiences. They saw other wagons going east on the wide dirt path and exchanged warnings about road hazards, like fallen trees, flooding and ice. The practical discussions were of
little significance, since with or without warning; it was fairly easy to see the hazards plainly. The desirability of the conversation was probably only useful in their need to periodically make contact with other human beings.
The Christophers experienced an upsurge in their nail business and it proved to be the correct decision to have been made when Mr. Christopher bought the large quantity of iron as now prices were rising. In the aftermath of the Paul departure and maybe in particular in the absence of Eurydice, people again returned to a way of life they had always known with one exception. Fences and gates were growing all over the north and west. It was common knowledge that Orpheus didn’t live with his parents any more, more appropriately finding a classy white woman to replace the forbidden black one. Perhaps they were able to forgive a youthful indiscretion, especially after the indiscrete ones were a thousand miles apart.
The fire at the white school was contained in one room.
After the black crowd hurriedly passed them by, the horses settled down and were able to pull the fire wagons out of the ditches and continue the short distance to the site. Flames were doused expeditiously. Since the black school was church property, it was up to the insured church to repair it, but they had no interest in the money losing operation. White people
never said it in company and perhaps were uncomfortable in saying it to themselves, but all were quite happy that the daily black procession through their neighborhoods was over. They no longer even had to tolerate a Sunday constitutional. The entire messy affair caused little disruption in the white learning process. The white school remained utilized while the small damaged part was being repaired. The fences springing up, resulted in an increased demand for labor and materials and caused some jubilation on both sides of the river, benefitting both labor and entrepreneurial interests.
Whites generally felt that the small fire was a reasonable price to be paid for the destruction of the black school, especially when they considered the other more dire possibilities of the time. They just assumed, without question, that a white person was responsible and, exhibiting an improvement over most prognostications, this time they were half right. They nervously hoped that this was the end and that no black radical decided to start his own guerilla war.
Blacks had a slightly different viewpoint on the surface tranquility, but confined it to sporadic terse rhetoric only.
They weren’t inclined to do anything except make disgruntled comments to each other. They feared the possibility of retribution in the current environment and most felt that, all in all, they were merely back in the same situation that existed
before organized religion brought them “progress.” A few missed the schooling opportunity for their kids, but were glad to see that post hole digging work had returned to the area, perhaps more than ever before. They were well accustomed to and had generations of experience in dealing with similar situations and hoped no white guerrilla warrior took matters into his own hands. They knew that he would operate with impunity. Same old shit. The white school is good as new and there are complications regarding the black one, resulting in its perennial existence in ashes. They also assumed a protected white person was responsible and they, too, enhanced their prior abilities to guess, as they were half right. Roscoe was as elated as was possible for a lifetime malcontent, as he joyously experienced an upsurge in his earthly sacramental business.
Joe McCready was able to get Pokey all the bales of hay he could eat and called out his early morning cheerful greetings.
The good old days were almost back. Who was dumb enough to soy that; “You can never go home again.”
The Christophers were hoping for a visit from their industrious son, but realized that he was busy getting a commercial operation going, with the help of a new woman friend they’d very much like to meet. They were proud that Orpheus and D’s works were prominently displayed in the general store and
even prouder that people were buying the new improved flower pots.
Around Christmas Sybil Norn paid a week-long visit to her escape property. Orpheus answered the door and saw the trim, fiftyish, graying owner of the property. He said; “Merry Christmas.”
She returned the greeting and walked in, taking off her deep blue, hooded winter shroud, exposing a dignified simple black dress with a white collar. She saw D and said; “Don’t I know you?”
D said; “I don’t think so. My name is D. Pleased to meet you.”
Sybil responded with a brief soft handshake, saying; “I’m Sybil. I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”
Orpheus wanted to deflect that line of conversation and said; “Let’s sit down,” leading everyone to the kitchen table.
“Can I get you something?”
Sybil said; “Tea would be very good.”
As they sat at the table, sipping, Sybil said; ”D, what is your last name?”
D didn’t take the time to think of an appropriate response to the curious lady and said; “I don’t have use for one.” She immediately realized that she should have made up anything.
Sybil eyed her and after a lull D stood up and said; “I have to leave now. I’m Orpheus’s business partner and confidante and I have some details to tend to.”
D donned her own black winter cape and said; “Good day,”
and “Orpheus, I’ll be in touch.”
Sybil rose and said; “Good day.” When the door shut, she looked at Orpheus and said; “Is Eurydice around?”
“No, she’s nowhere near here. We had some problems and she left.”
Sybil facetiously asked; “Is she among the living?”
He thought that was a very strange question, but remembered that Sybil had twice said that she knew their story. He said;
“As far as I know. She and her family went west.”
Sybil was surprised at the answer and said; “Weird.”
“Very.”
Sybil saw the painted tins and pots all over the kitchen floor and said; “I see you’ve been working hard.”
“D and I both have.”
“She paints, too?”
“Yes, very well, I think. She likes dark colors.”
“So, she spends a lot of time here?”
“We both do.” Recalling the arrangement they had previously agreed to regarding the property, Orpheus added; “I
can stay with my parents a few days, if you’d like. Do you know how long you’ll be here?”
She smiled at him and put one of her hands briefly over his and said; “Please, feel free to stay. I’ll enjoy the company, as long as you’re quiet.” She went to a bookcase and retrieved
“The Magus” , a two volume book on occultism, written in 1801.
She sat back down and perused it, while he painted.
Sybil took her time with the book, spending a good hour with the illustrations and names, finding nothing to give her any hints about D. She compared the dark flowers on tin to the book, to no avail. She broke the silence and said; “Orpheus, where did you meet D?”
He thought that the truthful answer was amusing, so he said; “She showed up in my bedroom.”
“Did someone let her in?”
“No.” He paused as Sybil looked curiously at him and then added; “At least not that I know of.”
“And through your bedroom discussions she started painting with you?”
“Not only that. She made the business arrangements to sell them.”
She went looking for a book about the devil when she heard;
“Seasons greetings.” It was Aazaziel dressed impeccably and
dandyish in loose tan pants, a light blue dress shirt and a white knit scarf tied around his neck.
Sybil looked at Orpheus and disapprovingly questioned;
“Another friend of yours?”
Orpheus audibly exhaled and said to Sybil: “No, I’m tired of this jerk. He just shows up whenever he feels like it.”
Aazaziel play winced and sarcastically said; “Pity me.
I’ve always depended on the hospitality of the good people.
It’s really so, so sad.”
Orpheus tiredly said to Aazaziel: “So what blessing are you going to bestow on me today?”
Aazaziel responded with a short false smile and in an upbeat tone said; “Sorry to disturb your tête-à-tête with the nun, but I’m excited about something.”
Sybil looked at the floor and said to Aazaziel: “And I suppose we’re going to be the lucky ones to see and hear it.”
Aazaziel: “I’m going to ignore that. I know it’s just a jealous streak. Many great artists were not popular in their time. Their rejection and suffering produced things unique and their useless, disparaging heirs reaped the rewards.”
Orpheus pointed out something he thought Aazaziel may have momentarily forgotten; “There were even more artists not popular in their time, who never became popular in any other.” He
appropriately smiled, making the commentary, which could be interpreted in differing ways almost suitable.
Continuing the polite disparagement Sybil told Aazaziel:
“I’ve never known you to ignore commerciality.”
Instead of continuing the playful banal observation charade Aazaziel went right at what he considered the truth; “Well, I can see everyone’s in a vicious mood today. But, despite the poor manners, I’m going to let the two of you have the first viewing. I’ve been working on the concept that “less is more.”
He retrieved a canvas he had somewhere in his baggy pants and sat it on a chair.
Sybil observed the blank canvas and said; “Are you sure you brought the right masterpiece?”
Orpheus added; “I think I get it. You used invisible paint.”
Aazaziel disgustedly said; “Neanderthals. It says nothing.
How like a god.”
Orpheus finished the thought with; “Also like a retard.”
Sybil laughed and Aazaziel feigned looking crushed. He said; “No, retards make noise, just like you. Maybe next time I’ll do an insipid poor imitation of a pretty flower. I’m going.”
Sybil acted horrified and said; “You’re not leaving that here, are you?”
Aazaziel her with; “Sure, I made duplicates.”
Orpheus couldn’t help but make one more comment and said;
“Aren’t you at least going to sign it? I wouldn’t want to confuse it with the vision of a blind man.”
Aazaziel directed his response mostly to Orpheus; “You’re the blind man. In your own interest you really should encourage me. When I engage my artistic sensibilities, I don’t think about improvements I can make in your life.” He sarcastically smiled and vanished.
Sybil said; “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to join you in painting.”
Orpheus smiled at her knowingly and said; “I wouldn’t mind in the least.”
She put the blank canvas on the floor and over the next few hours produced a primitive painting of a nude black man with a golden crown of thorns, nailed to a rainbow colored dollar sign.
She said; “What do you think?”
Orpheus replied; “I like it a lot. It may be good for hanging in a church, if you add a loincloth.”
“Aah and only the first try.”
Roscoe sat in front of his two room shack, feeling too well to be bothered plotting any revenge against Judge Caprice.
Initially he considered a way to make the Judge’s responsibility
for the arson known surreptitiously. But after the demise of the church and school he was again busy being mystic and herbsman to his returned flock and liked the “lucrative” status quo.
Elvira walked by his house and saw him outside with a group of five teenaged boys. She yelled out; “You old heathen.”
Roscoe turned his back to her, lowered his pants, bent over and showed her his ass. The boys found that hysterical.