Death Or Eurydice by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 19- Western Nod
Eurydice’s band had the good fortune to pass through the Chicago area in spring and the bad fortune to encounter summer while going south through Kansas and a little bit of Texas, before arriving in New Mexico in July. She was already accustomed to seeing Indians, Spanish people, white people in gigantic silly hats and flat roofed adobe houses, but was pleasantly surprised to see Albuquerque surrounded by mountains.
She thought she had seen some before, but they were eastern hills. The Sangre de Cristo’s and Manzano’s rocky sides impressed her enough to give the reins back to her father, so that she could safely stare at the treeless rocks baking in the sun, fantasizing about climbing them. She looked for paths up and thought she saw some possibilities, but even if she was right, they appeared to result in dead ends.
It made no difference that the heat was dry, the ninety-five degree plus temperatures made it difficult to sit in the sun, so they reversed the modus operandi the last few days and slept away the bright hours, moving in the dark, Dauntless and Gallant earning their calling cards. They got to their destination at 3 AM and in the light of the full moon were impressed at the size and layout of their new eight-room home.
While roughly average for a Massachusetts house, it was bigger
than most of the ones they had seen in New Mexico, Reverend Paul immediately recognizing the potential of lording it over the surrounding countryside. It was “U” shaped if U’s chose to flatten out their curve, the single story structure having four railroad rooms facing three railroad rooms connected at one end by another. In the center were brick walkways, forgotten gardens, benches and dry water fountains.
They worked until sunrise unloading their transported possessions into the already furnished house, deciding who would sleep where. It was too dark and they were too tired to take more than a glancing look at their new temporary property, but could not ignore that one room was set up as a place of worship, with a small altar and a large crucifix. They thought that this must have had something to do with the church ownership and it may have, but they later learned that this was not the least bit unusual in their new surroundings. Reverend James and Ruth Paul took a room right next to his new place of power. There were four rooms in their chosen wing; so Eurydice crossed the browned out gardens and took her place in her very own little wing.
Morning light came through the one window of the small brick floored room. She saw that she had a simple single bed whose only decoration was a square spindled headboard bearing a light, faded tan stain. It rested under a rug hanging on the white stuccoed wall comprised of stripes of varying sizes and
browning colors. Round beams supported a ceiling of planks, also primarily tan, but marked with deep brown streaks, evidencing, what she hoped were prior leaks. Behind the headboard was a simple hinged box, busy with faded paint, the prominent motif being two white birds sitting on opposing sides of a yellow chalice. The birds looked confused, with their heads turned around and away from each other, trying to see something that was not in the black background. The central piece was a small trastero, the seemingly obligatory tan; with two three paneled doors, the upper two panels affording a view of the upper shelved contents through spindles. She would later learn that this was usually indicative of a kitchen based trastero, used for holding food. One small wooden chair devoid of design, with no arms and two rectangular slats attached to plain rails for a back completed the transitory floor decor.
One corner possessed a small rounded kiva fireplace, but with a flat top holding painted wooden religious figurines, as did a niche on one wall. There was a small painting dominated by huge yellow streamers on the border, leaving a tiny human figure of indeterminate sex at the center. His or her arms reached out and up to the sky, perhaps dwarfed and blinded by the light.
She liked the room and would like it even better when she could transport the religious paraphernalia elsewhere. She was not yet certain if the painting qualified. One entire room
devoted to religious worship was quite enough for her tastes, the redundancy overbearing a room home to interests associated with this earth, exemplified best by the tiny trastero.
The rest of the house was not very different in overall feel; that of old Spanish design probably executed by someone who didn’t make a living as a cabinet maker, incorporating some Indian details. She learned over the next few days that the house’s initial appearance of enormity was a false one, as the hallway took their toll on living areas. They ran the length of the house, ostensibly so that one wouldn’t have to go through one room to get to another. She considered this a waste of space as the same thing could be accomplished using the outside brick walkways, without putting one side unnecessarily and perennially in the dark.
She met her parents in the kitchen, using the circuitous hallway rather than cutting across the garden to get there. She said; “Well, how do you like it?”
Ruth sighed a bit; “It’s not exactly Boston.”
James laughed; “It’s not even Sudbury.”
Ruth said; “Where did this furniture come from, somebody’s barn?”
Eurydice said in mocking falsetto; “Ooh, just imagine if the Sudbury elite could see me devoid of maid and Chippendale.”
Ruth playfully went at her daughter, raised one arm, threatening a head slap, but, stopped short and laughed, saying;
“It’s going to take some getting used to.”
James didn’t say anything, but found his wife more than a little silly, as when they met, his wife would not have known Chippendale from early cheap hotel. He seriously wished that this would not become a constant refrain. He hoped she would laugh when he said; “Oh, Ruth, you’re just going to have to develop an appreciation for folk art.”
She didn’t. She said; “Okay, I see you’re both going to gang up on me.”
Eurydice tried to end the conversation with; “Everything is so different and new......”
Ruth cut her off; “Ain’t nothing here new.”
Eurydice smiled and finished her thought; “Give it at least a week before you dismiss it as garbage.”
In time the Reverend took to the place, maybe because he was able to find forty lost souls looking for spiritual guidance, his flock being multi-racial, predominantly middle aged women, with enough money to adequately support the church.
Ruth learned to tolerate the décor, maybe even got to like the casual “I don’t give a damn” feel. She occasionally fretted about her husband’s consuming interest in his parishioners’
priority private problems, which necessitated special counseling at their homes.
Eurydice took long walks in the woods by the Rio Grande in warm weather and the sandy foothills of the Sangre de Cristo’s in the long winters. Snow rarely covered the paths and when it did, it was only an inch deep, removed entirely by the afternoon sun. She met numerous guys around her own age, who seemed to coincidently pop out whenever she arrived. Conversations were uninteresting. When they were told that she had finished high school and attended college in Europe, they got even quieter than they were by nature. In an effort to say nothing stupid they said nothing at all and made it sound like some virtue.
They pointed out the temperatures, the winds and the many points of local interest like the boulder which sat on top of another half its size.
She eventually decided to change her usual verbose speaking pattern, as the brilliant conversationalists just looked at her as if she had just said something completely asinine, which was distinctly possible, or acted as if the commentary was obvious common knowledge and need not be said, or said “What’s the point. I don’t get it.” That was their most revealing insight.
She started to talk only as much as they did and concentrated on the wonderful weather. This seemed to disturb many, having gotten used to the entertainment formerly provided and missing
the ability to play uninformed critic, with no material of their own. She started to vary her walking times, hoping that she wouldn’t have to see and share the same old boring near silence.
If there was to be absolute quiet, she didn’t need to suffer anyone’s commentary to obtain it. They adjusted to her. They still managed to be there just when she was and regularly got on her particular path, to inform her that they were extremely busy and had to go. She thought that their degree of busyness was obvious, but relished their having to go. She wished they just went without having to tell her about it. She spent warm afternoons establishing a garden at home, between the two wings, where one existed years ago. It was a lot of work, but it filled her time. She changed her mind often after seeing the mature results of what she incorrectly visualized when she planted the seeds. Watering was a time consuming project in itself. She considered establishing a ditch watering system as she had seen in larger scale on Albuquerque farms, but considered it ugly, the straight lines reminding her of some math problem of years past.
She started to have dreams of death, her own. Sometimes she was lying in a coffin unable to move or speak. She dismissed these as mere poetic representations of her life, or the lack thereof in her new quarters. In others she was being eaten alive by wild animals she encountered at the river and
foothills. This, too, was not particularly disturbing, as she could make varying interpretations to keep her mind occupied.
When she got the one about being in an open box, six feet under, with grinning white men shoveling dirt on her, she started to get tired of the entire channel.
She commenced thinking about Massachusetts before retiring; the green hills, the trees, the abundance of rivers, lakes and streams, the old clapboard and stone houses and the flowers that grew of their own volition, without the aid of a watering system, because it rained more than eight inches a year.
The more temperate climate attracted her and she inevitably thought of Orpheus. She wondered if he was having a good time there with the white witch. While she couldn’t firmly say that she was sorry for leaving him, she was near saying that she was sorry for where she had gone; a place of the dead, many still walking. She started to dream of the east, sometimes cemeteries, but she took solace in the fact that at least the dead were buried. She soon settled into a disturbing recurrent one. While she’s alone in the woods, she is run over by a black horseless carriage, driven by a white woman dressed in black, grinning as she holds a whip for the non-existent horses.
One day her father wanted to have a serious conversation with her. He started by saying; “Eurydice, soon you’ll be twenty-three.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“So, what are you doing with your life?”
“Gardening.... walking....”
He cut her off; “A lot of nothing.”
She nodded agreement; “A lot of nothing.”
“There aren’t many options open to an unmarried older woman.”
“Older? I’m still only twenty-two.”
“Most girls your age are married with children, or enter training to be a nun.”
She laughed and said; “I’ll opt for married with children.
But, I can’t imagine hooking up with any of the guys I’ve met here.”
“You still think you can afford to be picky?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m telling you that you can’t.”
“Then let me go back to school in Europe.”
“We can’t afford that anymore.” He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes, adding; “But, I’ve got a guy for you.”
“Who?”
“He’s the son of another Albuquerque minister. His father thinks it’s time he married.”
“Whoa, whoa. Married?”
“Yes.”
“Is he religious?”
“Yes and I told his father that you were, too.”
She rolled her eyes; “Is he black?”
“Yes and that’s all for the questions. You’ll be meeting him here Friday night. His name is Isaiah Tamersly.”
“What if I say no? I can live or do something like it right here, can’t I.”
He looked at her sternly, but also lovingly. Again taking her by the shoulders he said; “There is no way that I’m going to sit here and watch my beautiful little girl turn into an old maid.”
Eurydice reluctantly accepted what seemed inevitable. She spent the next two days sitting by her garden, but not touching or watering it. She saw the wildflowers creeping their way into the domesticated varieties and was amazed at their ability to adapt and thrive in soils not designed for their benefit.
Without killing off their delicate brethren they filled in the empty spaces, seemingly without much thought or planning. When they encountered each other they competed for the sunlight by trying to rise above their neighbor, touching each other at the base. Eurydice wondered what would happen to the cultured quiet loners when and if they were forced to make it in perennial shade. The reverie was only a very temporary escape as thoughts
of a religious Isaiah and what sounded like a near betrothal quickly returned to dominate her mind.
The big day came and Ruth helped Eurydice pick out proper attire, settling on a simple light blue dress ending midway between the ankle and knee. The top had huge black buttons to the neck. Her usually free long straight black hair was pulled back and held in place by a pink beret, deviating the normal path and necessitating a pinned bun in the back. Eurydice didn’t like it at all, but didn’t care enough to put up any argument. She looked in the mirror and saw a face she considered too big, round and tortured. She thought; “Perfect for the occasion.”
Isaiah arrived with his mother and father wearing a tight light yellow shirt which covered an underlying white shirt, exposed from the shoulder, ending in ruffles. His matching pants cut off just below the knee revealing the white leggings below. Upon introduction he kissed Eurydice’s right hand and presented her with a grouping of five cut and slightly wilting blue flowers with long stems. She thanked him and put them in a vase adding water.
Dinner was appropriate and polite with the men making idle chatter about church operations in Albuquerque, which they pretended was quite amusing. The women were quiet and when Eurydice looked at Isaiah she saw a contented, assured light
brown skinned man of twenty-five with a well maintained mustache and short beard. When he looked up, meeting her gaze, she would look away. He would sneak peeks at her, probably assessing and analyzing. When their eyes met she would properly re-focus on her plate. They orthodoxly ate dinner with careful attention paid to the appropriate utensils and topped it off with glasses of wine, Eurydice the only participant to pick a prime parcel of the only available white hue.
James surveyed the table and stood when he saw that everyone had finished, the others following suit. He ceremoniously ushered everyone into the adjoining room. He looked at Eurydice and Isaiah, saying; “You two probably have a lot to talk about.” She held back her laugh and James led them to the garden door, guided them out and closed it behind him.
She felt trapped.
She sat on a wooden bench. Isaiah first tested it with a wet forefinger and decided to remain standing. He said; “How long have you been in Albuquerque?”
“A few years now.”
“I was born here. How do you like our quiet enclave?”
She bristled a bit at the word “our,” and rather than giving him her assessment, merely responded with; “It grows on you,” thinking “like a vaginal infection.”
“You’re from the East Coast?”
“The east, yes, but not the coast.”
“I’ve never seen the ocean. People here say that it would be perfection if the Pacific would come to our door.”
She was incredulous. She never entertained such a thought and couldn’t understand anyone else conjuring up anything like it. She, sheepishly, just smiled or grimaced, not sure which was perceived and said; “Let me show you my garden. I’ve been working on it for years.” She stood up and pointed out some of the things she considered finer points. She noticed his discerning eyes, topped by a wrinkled brow. Despite the expected answer she wanted to ask the question anyway. After he quietly surveyed for a minute, not changing his expression, she said; “How do you like it?”
He thought that she was showing complete disregard for his cultured tastes by first showing and then asking him to like something that to him, looked as if it were dying from lack of attention. He blinked his eyes a few times and said in an incredulous tone; “The wildflowers have taken over the entirety of the garden.” He looked at her with wide, questioning, insulted eyes.
She wasn’t the least bit surprised at the response. It gave her the final definitive answer to what she had previously expected and the rest of the disjointed, pointless conversation proceeded to test the bounds of tedium and disinterest. It
could be seen by both that the rest of the party was about to converge on them and in a final attempt to salvage something from this rendezvous, he had one more statement that he was compelled to make. He intended it to sound egalitarian, indulgent and merciful, though it arose from surprise and desperation. He touchingly said; “Eurydice. I can have any black girl around here that I want. Quite frankly most guys aren’t interested in you because you’re ‘used merchandise.’ I want you to know that doesn’t bother me.”
She looked straight at him and from the look on his face, it appeared to her that the statement had emanated from something he considered kindness. He wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank him for nothing, laugh, or tell him where to go.
Fortunately, she was saved the dilemma when the rest of the party entered the garden and her father called out; “I hope we’re not interrupting anything, or maybe I should say I hope we are.” Polite chuckles were in order, but the two central figures were not participants.
Eurydice sought to break away from an overdose of “reality”
and viewed the dusk sky. Small, friendly, cumulous clouds appeared, taking only a small share of it. Their pink hue was caused by the brilliance of the declining sun, now invisible to her, behind a mountain range. Two of the clouds were shaped as thin, straight lines and at first seemed to be parallel to each
other. Eurydice focused on them and saw that they were not parallel at all. If they extended themselves, just a bit, they would shortly meet.
After the guests left, Reverend James asked his daughter;
“How did it go?”
“It was a mistake. I think we’re from different planets.”
“Oh, no. It can’t be that bad. Come on.”
“No, we don’t get along at all. He even started quoting the bible at me.”
“What did he say?”
“Oh, some crap about wild grapes.”
The Reverend had to smile at that, but continued; “It probably had more to do with sour grapes. You know, Eurydice, I love you, this is the real world and you don’t have a lot of good choices. You can’t sit back and wait for perfection to come to you.”
Her eyes and sigh acknowledged the truth of that statement.
“I’d just like to go to my room.”
He said; “I understand, but this discourse is going to be continued.”
She got to her room, took off her dress and untied her long hair. She collapsed into the single bed, sobbing and thinking about Orpheus.
Ruth was doing some post-party straightening up and when she passed her daughter’s closed door, she heard Eurydice’s cries. She knew what it was all about and felt a sad emptiness.
Her daughter had never been one to ask her advice. Her daughter had never been one to ask anyone’s advice and the few times she listened to anything, it had been the voice of her father.
Fully expecting to be dismissed and accomplish nothing, Ruth had to see her daughter right now, or it would be never.
Ruth made three gentle raps on Eurydice’s door and softly called her name.
Eurydice was still in the middle of a good cry, didn’t want to interrupt it and also didn’t want to be seen in such a sorry state. She stifled her tears enough to say; “Mom, it’s been a long night and I need some sleep.”
Ruth replied; “Well, obviously you’re not asleep yet, so let me keep you up another five minutes.” She opened the door and saw Eurydice sitting at the edge of the bed, her head bent and her eyes on the floor. Ruth sat to Eurydice’s right and enclosed her daughter’s right hand in her left.
Eurydice was now composed on the surface, but still wanted to get back to her cry and snappily said; “What kind of advice are you going to give me now? You never had anything to say before.”
Ruth squeezed her hand, sighed, smiled and replied; “No advice. Somebody’s got to be the quiet one in this house and I seem to have been elected that a long time ago.”
Eurydice’s countenance softened. She pulled her hand away from her mother, took a huge handkerchief from her pocket, used both hands to wipe at her eyes and then blew her nose, with the sound of a duck quacking. She made a small laugh and eyed her mother’s warm, concerned smile. She placed her right hand back on her mother’s left, half laughed and half cried; “Why are men so god damn stupid?”
Ruth thought a moment and said; “I don’t know, girl. There seems to be some kind of way that they’re different from us, but I don’t have any words to put on it. You can hear it when they talk, though.” She paused, laughed and added; “That’s probably why some of them play the strong silent type. Keep your mouth shut and appear the fool, open your mouth and remove all doubt.”
Eurydice smiled and asked; “Was Dad the strong silent type.”
Ruth jokingly and furiously shook her head from side to side; “No, no, no. Baby girl, you should have seen him in those days; always having something to say about whatever was going on.”
Eurydice smiled and said; “I didn’t have to see him in the old days. He’s still that way now.”
“Yeah, he just had the sense to find himself a job that paid you to run your mouth. There aren’t a lot of those. But, I mean physically, too. He had a full head of hair then and strutted around the place like he owned it. Lots of girls liked him. You know we girls got a special place in our hearts for guys who are confidently good with their mouths.”
Eurydice’s head bobbed as she looked at her mother looking at her. She said; “What made you fall in love with him?”
“That’s so easy; I’m surprised a bright girl like you had to ask. It was obvious to see that he had a good, kind heart.”
She paused again, then added; “Lots of guys don’t. The real question is why he fell in love with me. He didn’t have many problems in hooking up with girls and I figured what kind of a chance would pitiful, little me have, so initially I didn’t pay him a lot of attention.” Ruth looked at the floor and paused again. She then said; “Maybe that’s what he liked. At some point guys don’t make any sense to me. You’d have to ask him and I’ll bet he wouldn’t be able to explain it either.”
“How did you learn to tolerate the religion stuff?”
“Gee, we should have talked before. When he was young, James didn’t have one use for anybody’s religion. You hear me?
Like I said, I just think at some point he discovered that he could make a living doing what he liked best; running his mouth.”
Eurydice wrinkled her brow and asked; “So he is not a believer?”
Ruth shrugged her shoulders, thought a second and answered;
“Like most of us, sometimes he believes and sometimes he doesn’t. I’ll tell you one thing he never believed is that
“Lilies of the Field” story. That’s just a prescription for hunger and poverty, at least as its most commonly interpreted.
That’s why the school was more important to him than the church.
Things just seem to come as a package deal in this day and age.
I know when it burned down it broke his heart, but he’ll never show it. Guys are really weird.”
Eurydice’s tears uncontrollably returned and through them she cried; “Sure are. Orpheus has a good heart and I think that he does love me, but that doesn’t stop him from being open to other female attention, damn him.”
Mom considered things a moment and then said; “Don’t you dare ever tell your father I said this. I told you that he’s got a good heart, but this seems to be some kind of by-product: When he ministers to the female members of his parish and hears their troubles, his good heart goes out to them. Problem is step two, when something else goes out to them. I should tell you this. When I first started to have feelings, I couldn’t wait to get started. You know what I’m saying?”
Eurydice understood well enough, but couldn’t or didn’t want to think of her mother that way. She plaintively said;
“Mom.”
“Mom, nothing. We’re all alike in some ways, men AND
women. When I was fifteen I met a boy the same age, who I liked and thought that he liked me, too. We carried on one evening and you know what that little asshole did?” She didn’t wait for a reply and continued; “Jerk told his father and his friends all about it. Next thing I knew the little boys would show me their thingies whenever I was near them and his father tried to rape me.”
Eurydice winced.
Mom said; “Not to worry. I could always take care of myself. Point is, though, some men’s hearts are blacker than the two of us put together. It was unpleasant for a while, but my Mom, somehow figured out what was going on and got my father to move to a different neighborhood in Boston. I learned to be more judicious. Problem is men don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves. You have to guess. When I got to know your father better I was pretty sure that he had a good one and for my money, when you find one like that, stick with him. You can never be one hundred percent sure, but your instincts tell you that Orpheus is one of the good ones, don’t they?”
Eurydice laughed; “Yeah. I guess that there are some things men will never be able to explain to women and vice-versa. Maybe that’s the attraction.”
“Maybe, but don’t tell your father what I told you. He probably suspects that I know about him and feels guilty about it. I want him to stay that way, in the hope that it will decrease the frequency.”
Eurydice was confused and asked; “So, what do we do with these good hearted cavemen?”
Ruth sighed and said; “Love them the same way they love us.
What does that mean, you correctly ask? I don’t really know, but I can tell you this: The god damn thing about life is that if you wait until you know how to do it, the time to do it has long passed. Our brains still have very severe limitations.
Follow your heart.”
Ruth saw Eurydice looking into her eyes with a combination of surprise, respect and a desire to hear more. She let go of her daughter’s hand, put her arms around her, kissed her cheek and stood up. She laughed and said; “One preacher in this house is more than enough. I’m going to leave, because now I’ve told you everything I know. You’ve got some thinking to do. Good luck. I love you, little girl.” She left, shutting the door quietly behind her, without looking back.
Eurydice called out; “I love you, too, Mom,” not certain if she was heard. She lay back down on the bed, her face nestled against her pillow. As she closed her eyes, hoping to sleep, she thought; “Speak to me, heart.”
She dreamed of a fenced summer field with foot high, extremely green grass. A long-haired, black, mixed breed female dog of about one hundred pounds came out of somewhere and lay in the middle of it. A group of five painfully thin and hungry coyotes came down the road, stopped at the fence and called sweetly to her. She wanted the company, but something unexplainable told her that there was danger. She looked at them and they again called her softly. She wanted to hide, but all the entire field contained was tall grass that would leave her somewhat exposed, no matter where she sat. She got very anxious, wished they would go away and wondered if they could get through the planked wooden fence. She frantically craned her neck around, searching for some type of escape and saw another dog come running. He was much like her, but white. He went to the fence and snarled at the coyotes, saliva dripping from his exposed fangs. The coyotes weren’t particularly afraid of him, but they decided that they were better off trying to find easier prey elsewhere and ambled off the scene, occasionally glancing back. Each time they did Whitey barked and spit. After the coyotes were out of sight, he slowly walked
to her, with his head to the ground, laid down a foot away and kept his eyes trained in the direction of the coyote departure.
She watched his vigilance a few minutes and then moved next to him, laid down with her back cuddling against his left side and closed her eyes, confident that she was now safe.
Chapter 20- Pleasant Days, Promotion and Her Test Orpheus and D were busy counting their large cents. They started to accumulate as the tins formerly did, ten for one. It seemed that everyone in town had to add to their collection of flower pots. He liked to think that they appreciated the artwork that he and D were churning out. But, he also knew that they could just be reacting to the departure of Eurydice, or, most likely, they just wanted more flowers around.
Things were good. D didn’t have to do any more business type of work. The biggest impediment to their luxurious day was when he had to truck a new load of pots over to the general store and pick up the money, interrupting their painting, playing and prophetic promises. He kept contentedly busy and would only get depressed thinking of Eurydice one day a week, always prompted by a dream. He loved D and told her so regularly. Still, he knew it was unfair to her to have these morose episodes regularly, as he thought she easily, but silently detected them. He wished he could forget Eurydice or get over her completely, to no avail.
It was ridiculous and annoying after years had gone by. He had gone through the entirety of the process six times, so he knew the pattern and after six times of reaching a point of no feeling for Eurydice but wishing her well, he would get attacked
by another circuitous line of thinking, starting with; “But I miss her.” It took until the fourth time around to recognize the pattern. He continually missed the escape point of the circle in which he was trapped and he’d have to go all the way around again. How could he find the particular puncture if he didn’t know where it was or what it looked like? How could he be sure that it even existed?
D could, in fact, very easily detect his moods and had a few of her own. One of them was encapsulated in the phrase;
“Why did I pick this one? I was Death. I could have had anyone I wanted. People will do anything to appease death.” And eventually she would circle back to; “I didn’t pick him. He was picked for me. Somebody is doing their best to make me miserable. Why? Irrelevant.”
To help alleviate their mental machinations, the circus came to town for the first time in July. This was a very big thing for Sudburians, as now their town was considered an area of note; long green ones at any rate. After a parade through town the circus set up shop in the north, leasing land from an idle farmer. Orpheus and D took the half circular walk, first following the setting sun and then turning their backs to it.
The show had already started by the time they got there. After watching some clowns, horse riders, fire eaters and a high wire family, they thought they saw people pointing at them from the
other side of the arena. They looked back intently and sure enough, the people across the way were very interested in something very near them, if not them. He hoped that now they weren’t after him for being an adulterer. D just shook her head in disgust and nervousness.
They were relieved when the attention ended and went back to applauding the catcher in the swing.
Orpheus felt a tap on his shoulder and heard; “Excuse me.”
He slowly turned to see a smiling short round man in black and white checkered pants, wide yellow suspenders and a shirt of deep green with a few circular designs in red, white and blue.
His apprehension was somewhat alleviated seeing what he thought could have been a clown in his street garb.
The clown, playfully bowed and in a somewhat silly, high pitch, said; “Are you Orpheus Christopher?”
His apprehension made a quick comeback and he cautiously nodded, trying to make it seem somewhere between a yes and a no.
D stared at him, motionless and unnerved. Both felt trouble or even arrest was a distinct possibility, until the man introduced himself. “I’m Trader Jackson. I own this place...... well, sort of. You’re the couple who makes the pots, correct?”
D cautiously said; “We plead guilty.”
T.J. looked skyward and enthusiastically said; “Great, I’m here to offer you the deal of a lifetime.”
Orpheus stared blankly and warily, deciding to let D handle as much as possible of the ensuing conversation, in regard for her demonstrated business acumen.
D smiled politely and said; “What can you do for me; or to me, I’m not sure which.”
T.J. said; “Though I run this circus, what I really am is a promoter. I guess I just like being around the festivity and the clowns......”
D interrupted to deadpan; “I know what you mean.”
Orpheus gave her a mock insulted look and pinched her thigh.
T.J. continued; “I’m glad you two get along. When we went through town I saw that most every house has a few of your pots outside or in their windows. So, I made the brilliant deduction that people obviously like them, but there’s a severe limit on how many can be sold in Sudbury.” He paused to see reactions of grudging agreement and bobbling heads. He then continued; “We travel all over and I’d like to sell them elsewhere.”
D got to the point quickly and said; “Do you pay cash up front?
T.J. somehow managed to still sound ebullient when he replied; “I wish I could.”
D and O simultaneously groaned.
T.J. said; “It’s not that bad. I’m really not interested in the pots. I can have them made anywhere. I just want the painted tins.”
D widened her eyes a bit and said; “That’s an interesting idea.”
T.J. sensed possibility and said; “Yeah, I can have them attached to pots made wherever I am, or I might find other things to attach them to.”
D again, diligently did the job she had won by default and said; “When do we get paid?”
T.J. was prepared after years of similar negotiations and confidently responded; “As soon as I do. Think about it a second. The tins don’t cost much anything. Little paint is used and it doesn’t take a lot of your time.”
D looked at Orpheus: “I like it, unless you have any objections.”
Orpheus asked T.J.; “How many do you want to take with you?”
T.J. plainly said; “As many as I can. They’re easy to carry. When I need more, I’ll send someone to pick them up with your money from the previous batch.”
Orpheus and D had the same thought. They had about five hundred of them at the house. In two days of hard work, they could re-generate their inventory at minimal cost and this deal
opened the possibility of a huge market. The couple nodded at each other with raised eyebrows as if to say “Why not?”
Orpheus shrugged and said to both people present; “No objections. Let’s do it.”
Arrangements were made. Trader Jackson said he would meet them at their house after the show and departed. They looked around and saw that they had become the center of attention in the immediate vicinity. People were smiling at them and Orpheus thought; “Everyone just watched us make a deal with a man we’ve never previously seen, dressed in checkered pants supported by yellow suspenders and we came away with no money........Ah, I don’t care. I can always say that she was supposed to be the business expert.” D saw the direction of his eyes and correctly surmised his thoughts. It wasn’t hard for her as she had been around a long time and had probably seen most everything. They looked at each other, stuck out their lascivious tongues as far as they would go and simultaneously said; “So ******* what?”
In the ring a white faced clown with thick bright red lips, a bulbous pink nose and large eyes lined in black indicating tears jumped on the back of a performing horse in motion. He waved triumphantly to the crowd as he was quickly carried into a huge tent, to a standing ovation. They wondered who the clown was.
Later that night, the couple got very enthusiastic about the possible future. They might be able to do precisely what they want and not ever have to worry about money. How many can honestly say that? Orpheus attributed this to D. He did love her and if he had known her prior to meeting Eurydice, he probably would have considered the black princess nothing more than another pot customer. She left without even telling him or saying good-bye. Having to work for six months was such a burden for the privileged malcontent. Let her father or some other sucker put up with her moods. He wished he could retain this often experienced mindset for more than a couple of days.
No matter the consistency or lack thereof, he promised himself that he would always have D’s feelings foremost in his mind and would find some way to not advertise any depressed days to her.
Now that he was paying full attention to the problem, the solution might be quite easy. Mix the blue with the red and revel in the purple.
In Massachusetts, the mature summer trees towered over the land, so densely packed that walking at a normal pace was impossible. The canopies blocked out any direct sunlight, but still, it was not dark. It was isolation and warmth at its best. There was no path to follow. Likely, few, if any, were here before. The syrupy yellow-green mildew on the trunks
seemed more of an attractive decoration than any kind of blight.
When she approached a clearing she saw Orpheus with a vaguely familiar white woman. She wasn’t surprised as she really didn’t expect that he would live his life alone just because she had left him. She stopped, not wanting to make her presence known and watched the lovers play, fantasizing that she was a part of the game.
Eurydice awoke from her new recurrent dream in the sparsely treed desert under the merciless beating of the angry sun. She had learned to call the place home and was now able to do it without having to simultaneously stifle tears. She wished she could again be with Orpheus. The feeling got stronger whenever her father arranged dates with religious fanatics, each thinking that they were the recipients of the correct laws directly from the source and worse, seeing that their life’s mission was to impart this brilliance on those less enlightened; namely Eurydice Paul Christopher. They were just so, so good and by implication she was so in need of correction. She often thought to herself; “Bullshit. I know what they’re really interested in. Cut the shit and just say it. I’m no different. Oh, ****
all the hypocrites. I want Orpheus.” Her father always acknowledged the absurdity to a certain degree and would then end the conversation with a consistent admonishment and what he must have considered practicality. She was getting older and it
was high time to establish a normal life, under the protection and dictate of some guy with an economic future. She knew that she could appease everyone and appear to play the role and secretly look for what she desired elsewhere, but she simply didn’t want to live a farce.
Every night she hugged her pillow, wishing it was Orpheus and when it set in solidly, that it wasn’t, it got drenched.
She thought of going back east, but that presented a number of practical problems. She didn’t feel at all safe, especially as a female, to go two thousand miles alone and even if she could do it, Orpheus probably had established a new life for himself and didn’t want her to be any part of it. Still, she would at least be out of this savage sun, even if she had to work at the bakery. With no good solution available, she thought more and more of suicide. There was only one thing she had control of and that was her ability to say a permanent “no” to everything she had no respect for. She spent an increasing amount of her days in this frame of mind, as she stopped walking around surrounded by “friendly interesting” people and stopped tending her garden. Though she always liked the wildflowers equally to the cultivated varieties, ever since Isaiah registered his disdain for them, she loved them with a passion. Her neglect allowed them to kill off the majority of the properly nurtured and trained ones. She pulled out the few hardy ones. Wildness
reigned big, beautiful and supreme, at least in her garden.
Every color of the rainbow, just add water, whenever the sky was so inclined.
As she watched the wildflowers, she didn’t sense that she was being watched herself. Despite having grown accustomed to the regular surveillance performed in the fishbowl that is called Albuquerque, she foolishly thought that being in the center of a three-sided structure, which was solidly fenced on the fourth, that she euphemistically called home, afforded her some privacy.
She felt eyes on her. Her first thought was that it was her mother or father, but when she looked behind her she saw a very pale white woman wearing a thin opaque wrap tied over one shoulder. She was about twenty-five and exhibited very long curly red hair which flowed down her back to her buttocks. Her unique face was unadorned, her lips pursed and her blue eyes somewhat sad. After a quick once over, further inspection indicated that her most distinctive feature was her wide, meaty hips.
Eurydice said; “Who in hell are you?”
The woman politely said; “People call me various things.
To you I’m the Spirit of the Forest, or Sofia. And as a small point of order; you probably have spent more time in hell than I have.”
“What do you think of my garden?”
“Perfection.”
“You’re just being dismissive.”
“No, I mean it. I’ve been watching its progress for some time.”
“Thanks and thanks a lot. You’re telling me that I’ve got another person watching me.”
“I’ll have to admit to that, sorry, but one small correction. ‘Person’ is not the right word.”
“What is?”
“Sofia, I guess. But then that leads to more explanation.
The word ‘another’ no longer applies, but that’s getting very arcane.” She laughed, putting her delicate right hand over her mouth and said; “Excuse me. That’s my sense of humor. Nobody understands it. Never mind.”
“So what do you want from my pitiful black ass?”
“I don’t want anything. I’m here because you keep calling me in your dreams. I want to help.”
“How do I know you’re not the devil?”
”You can’t know, but you have my word that I’m not.
Believe me, I’ve heard your call and sympathize, but quite frankly, I’d like to get on with things and get back east. You do have a huge fault. You expect people to meet your standards of perfection, but you don’t endeavor to meet theirs.”
“Rightly so. I’m perfectly natural.”
“That’s the trap.”
Eurydice thought about that a bit, saw its truth, envisioned the lengthy discussion it would necessitate and simply said; “All right. I’m glad you’re here. How can you help me?”
“I know a way back east.”
Eurydice recalled her vow of years prior when she said to herself; “I’ll find a way back.” She said; “Show me, I’ll take it.”
Sofia said; “Well, it’s a little more difficult than that.
You’ve been something less than an exemplary woman.”
“I beg your pardon. You told me your name was Sofia, not Judge Caprice.”
“I’m really not judging. The only ones engaged in judging, are by definition, too stupid to be qualified for the job. What I am saying, though, is that you’ve treated Orpheus terribly and you know it yourself. So you have to pass a little test. If you do, you’re back in Sudbury.”
Eurydice said; “You know that he wasn’t exactly exemplary with me either.”
“Yes, I know. But, he too, is human and I’m here with you now. Do you want the test or not?”
“What happens if I fail? Will I die?”
“There’s no risk of physical death. But, you may see something in yourself that you can’t live with. You might remain on the suicide track.”
“So, no risk. Give me the test.”
“All right. I’m going to offer you a number of precious things. You can either take one and remain here, or refuse all and be back in Sudbury with the chance that Orpheus may or may not want to see you.”
Eurydice still thought that there was nothing to lose in trying the test, as she became certain that Orpheus would take her back, so nodded “Yes” slowly. Sofia picked up a small book that was previously unnoticed lying on the dirt under the wildflowers and opened it.
Sofia said; “You can have a good looking, wealthy husband who meets all of your specifications.”
“That’s a slave. I want a free man.”
“You can be the prettiest woman in the world, desired by all men.”
“I’m pretty enough. Prettiest is a value judgment and I’m already desired by all men. The only ones who don’t desire me desire each other or themselves.”
“You can have equality for all women.”
“Your boss created them equal. Inequality comes from human treachery. Are you saying that you can change the free will of the many?”
“No. You can have any kind of sex you desire.”
“I’ve already done that with Orpheus and if I get him back, I’ll continue to.”
“I will fulfill any wish you want.”
“I know the trick. It’s the fallacy of magic. I can get anything I want, but I never would be able to define what that is without specifying every detail ad nauseum. I could ask for one million dollars and get it at a time after inflation made anything below ten million poverty. I could ask to meet the man of my dreams and he could be the one to give me last rites. I could ask to meet the man of my dreams, now and he could die in two seconds. I could ask to meet the man of my dreams now and that he live to be one hundred. He could get leprosy in two seconds. It goes on and on. The only way to get your wishes is to live your life the way you want and try your best.”
“Last offer, girl. I’m proud of you. That last one trips up most everyone. You can have eternal life.”
Eurydice said; “That’s the easiest rejection of all. I don’t need it from you. I already have it from my mother and father.”
Sofia smiled warmly looking into her eyes.