The Curse (Installment 2)
As interesting as I may have found the story of Ted and The Curse it did not seem fair to me that I was chosen. I relented in my protests for the most part out of respect for an Eta Beta. What I had I done to deserve such a back-handed slap in the face was something that in truth I was fairly proud of. It was just that the whole story wasn’t known. I was certain that if I explained I would not be forced to bear the hydrogen bomb of all practical jokes and quite possibly the foulest smelling substance known to man?
”With all due respect for your choice, I can’t see why I deserve it.”
“You have earned it?”
“Earned it?”
“The Socks?” I had to play out the charade. I would never admit to having any knowledge of The Socks. That was my little secret. As far as I was concerned Greg had buried them and so they were gone.
“Don’t play that with me. You are the only one that would have done such a thing.”
“Look I admit that I had issues with every one of those self serving, self righteous, arrogant, bigoted mother…uh, well out of the bonds of my fraternal oath I will not call them what they deserve to be called.”
He cocked his head to one side, “There is a story that I suppose you feel that I need to hear.”
I entered into consideration my defense. I needed to set the record straight and explain what it was that had compelled me to seek revenge. In a moment of brilliance I had done what anyone with a master key and a pair of crusty, smelly sweat socks would have done.
But I am way ahead of myself. There is so much more to the story. You need all the details first.
It was the immediately previous summer, the one that bridged what felt like a void between my junior and senior years of college. I was not happy about the prospect of experiencing a string of lasts; last summer, last fall, and last spring before inevitably taking a place in the real world. In the fall I was scheduled to intern at the local TV station. I wanted to intern in production or engineering but I couldn’t until I had completed radio and television production coursework. Also I was still playing catch-up in an effort to improve my GPA and get a few other requirements out of the way as well.
I was staying in the fraternity so that I could attend summer school. It was the second consecutive summer for me. I was working part time for a local hi-fi store to help cover expenses and I had been recently elected to serve as the social director of the chapter for the upcoming fall. As the only chapter officer living in the house I was given a master key that unlocked every door in the fraternity and was charged with meeting with the campus Fire Marshall to inspect the rooms for safety and fire hazards on a monthly basis. It was the only way that the campus administration would permit twelve brothers to remain in the house over the summer.
It might seem an odd thing to stay at college year round but as a rule, I went home only for brief visits on vacations and breaks for holidays. Home was almost a four hour drive from West Lafayette. Back then that seemed like a very long drive.
The reason I stayed at school was not that I had a bad relationship with my parents. Nothing could have been further from the truth. They were always supportive. It was just that I could not seem to stay home for more than a few days at a time. Added to that, I had a job off campus. Anyway, I had not really lived with my folks since I was 14, so being in their house always felt strange to me, even if I was staying in what they called ‘my room’.
The only reason that I called it home was that my parents still lived there. Toward the end of that summer even that concept of home would change forever. At the outset of the summer I already knew that my parents were in the process of moving. By the end of the summer they were planning to have auctioned off all the things they had decided to part with. They had conditionally sold their farm in Ohio and were prepared to realize one of my father’s dreams, something that he had wanted for all his life, ever since as a young man he had read pulp Western magazines. My folks were moving to cowboy country, a.k.a. Texas.
I fully intended for that summer to be buckle-down time. I was going to get on the best possible terms with my professors and seek their recommendation for an internship at the local TV station. I knew that I would need that. There were very few openings and they were jealously and vigorously sought.
My professors already knew what I was all about so I needed to show a dramatic change in my approach and attitude. As talented as I was at engineering, producing, directing and editing audio and video I was also notoriously lazy and a horrendous procrastinator. I told myself that I did my best work at the last minute, that it was the pressure of urgency that drove me to success. The fact was that I cut a lot of corners and even if I made some brilliant decisions under fire if I had planned ahead and worked on a project for a even a few days instead of a few hours, I could have generated an incredible demonstration tape and would have had professors recommending me for internships without my having to ask.
That last summer had almost nothing to do with summer school. Instead it was all about hanging out with my fraternity brothers, going to some killer rock concerts down in Indianapolis, and generally enjoying being young and alive for what I was resigned to believe was the last summer of my freedom from toil. Still all that excitement was crammed into June and a good deal of it happened between spring semester and the onset of summer semester
I wasn’t seeing anyone socially. I had always been a loner. Even in high school I went on very few dates. In college my social life had improved though not dramatically. There had been Barb, Carmen, Denise and Lucy in my freshman year. When I a sophomore I had really dated no one but had gone out a time or two with Barb or Lucy. As a junior I used to meet with Barb quite a lot and I hung out with Dawn, my little sister from the fraternity's little sister program.
Barb had just graduated and as we had become fairly good friends over the years, I attended her ceremony. Barb introduced me to her parents and her brothers and then Barb was gone, off into the real world, promising that she would stay in touch which I really wanted to believe at the time but she never did.
Perhaps it was not until the moment of saying good-bye to someone that I had known for three years that the gravity of what was just ahead of me had finally set in. Despite all the serious intent, in the back of my mind I was frustrated that my extended adolescence would soon and inevitably have to end. I wanted to remain a kid forever.
Despite the few ladies that I had paid any passing attention to throughout college, I was never one to have a dazzling social life or even a full social calendar. My eclectic tastes in music were as prone to take me to a jazz concert in of Chicago as a rock concert in Indianapolis or a classical guitar concert on campus. Even s, if there was a concert that I wanted to see, I usually went to the concerts alone. I wasn't anti-social it was just that maybe I would ask someone and if they were busy it wouldn't prevent me from realizing my personal desire to see a particular artist perform. I even went to see movies alone.
I felt that it was ironic that my fraternity had voted me in as social director. It was intended as a spoof I think. Someone had nominated me as a joke and everyone had a good laugh. I had missed that chapter meeting and so I had learned never to miss a chapter meeting. When I learned that I was nominated I decided to teach the jokesters a lesson. I actively campaigned. I went to every brother's room and asked them what they wanted in the way of a social program for the chapter. I wanted to be an officer of the chapter and an agent for change. I never expected to be president or even vice president of the chapter. I would have been good at either job but I also knew that I had never been all that popular. Social director would look good enough on a job resume, though.
I gave a speech before the entire chapter, including the brothers who lived off campus. I presented my programs before everyone was expected to vote. Of all those nominated, I had a realistic plan and goals to bolster the chapters social image on campus. I was serious about doing something which even though my speech was humorous, I think I won over some skeptics that were at least willing to let me have a shot. I fully expected to lose the campaign but still I had done my best and as long as I felt that way I could be content. That was one of the things that I had always admired about my dad. That was his life's motto and it had always done well by him.
When I learned that I was the new social director I didn't know quite how to react. I had positioned myself squarely in the line of fire and I now needed to fulfill all those promises I had just made.
I felt that there was a good chance that I could follow through on my campaign promises; otherwise I would have never made them. I knew a number of ladies from my classes that were in some of the more socially active and popular sororities on campus. I felt certain that I could schedule parties with their chapters. Getting ladies to show up would be another matter. That would require some creativity.
Even though I was certain that my election was mostly a joke, intended as a subtle statement to the Greek community that the quietest guy in all the fraternity was in charge of the ensuing year’s social programs, I wanted to be remembered as someone that accomplished something. My brothers may have been content to maintain the status quo but I was not.
I had a number of female friends from my classes I nearly never dated any of the ladies that I knew. Frankly I tended to befriend married women for some reason. It was fine with me, though. I would hang out with them on campus, go to the Sweet Shop between classes or sometimes meet for lunch at an off campus restaurant. I knew their husbands and in some instance their children. I was the uncle that was invited over for dinner. I found that the conversations with married women afforded me invaluable insight into relationships. Moreover I think I did not feel threatened in my quest to remain unattached. I did not need to be with anyone else to appear normal. I was with a very nice young lady and very capably handling a conversation. It could have been my intent to avoid the real problem that I was so shy that I would hardly ever ask a drop-dead gorgeous woman out for a date. I convinced myself otherwise; it was something to the effect that these married women just could not leave me alone.
I had of course seen some of my fraternity brothers in passing and they saw me with some very nice looking, well-dressed and occasionally older women. Unbeknownst to me my reputation spread on the back of rumors. There as every imaginable speculation rampant. So when it came time for the chapter to vote on my candidacy for social director I was an enigma. I barely ever attended parties and if I did I left early to retreat to my room where I carried on writing whatever the hell it was that I was working on. Still, I was with a different woman every time anyone saw me on campus. Then I proposed changing the image of the chapter and getting the big name sororities over for parties. So even if my candidacy was a joke I rather think that some voted for the hope of change and those were not disappointed I delivered on promises and I shook things up even if events spiraled out of control and well beyond my expectations.
But that is another story.
In pursuit of my serious intent, I had asked my fraternity brothers that were dating sorority women from this or that chapter to arrange for me to get introduced to their social directors. I had met every one of the fall semester social directors except for two; the two that no one ever believed would condescend to party with the likes of us anyway. Despite that I had some insiders working behind the scenes, some ladies that I knew from class. It would happen. I was going to see to it.
Until I started dialogues with the social directors of the sororities I had not realized how utterly negative a reputation that I was seeking to correct. We were generally viewed as a fraternity that at best was a collection of misfits and malcontents and hardly a real Greek organization. We were not the preppy boys. We were not the jocks. Certainly we had or share of each in our membership. The bulk of our membership were just good guys that wanted to have some fun. Our quest for fun had been grossly misinterpreted.
I had even planned to work on the social programs over the summer, an ambition that once classes started was left by the wayside.
When the dropping and adding of courses had concluded my radio production class was divided into four groups; mine consisted of two other guys and three gals. We selected a leader which I was not. The leader assigned tasks based on our interests and abilities. Our group was challenged to write a script for a 1930’s-style radio production, complete with sound effects and actors with rehearsed lines.
The professor assigned individual projects for the course as well but the group project was intended to serve as a mid term examination. I knocked out my individual project in three days and the professor was impressed and played it for the entire class. It was a gem of tape splicing, even down to the syllable of words that I had recorded at a high enough speed to have enough tape to physically cut and tape back together. What resulted was a collection of sounds assembled in a montage to create a story. I received an A- for my efforts.
The group leader assigned two of us that professed to being writers to generate a script for our group project. After a couple of group brainstorming sessions we arrived at a general theme and subject, so creating a script fell onto Senobia and me. No other production efforts could really advance until there was even the general outline of a script. The first week of school I met with Senobia daily after class in the sweet shop and we created the foundation for what would eventually become our group’s project.
Never before had I collaborated with anyone on a work of fiction. At first it seemed unnatural and almost invasive. I felt violated. I didn’t like the experience. I had hardly anything in common with her except that we had the same assignment. We were from different worlds, different regions of the country and completely different backgrounds. She was affluent; I was not. Her father and mother were both professionals; my dad was a hard-working, blue collar farmer and my mother was a housewife. Senobia was a liberal; I was politically neutral for the most part. She was African; I was Anglo.
As might be expected we agreed on almost nothing at all. At first we lacked direction, still we determined early on that it was perhaps best for each of us to put forth a best effort to come up with our own individual outlines. It seemed logical to form some ideas just to get some things onto paper. Then we met again and each of us did an informal presentation of our outlines to the other.
As a result of our first efforts, I learned that some of my ideas for a plot Senobia did not like. In turn, she had ideas that I did not like. We were both creative and each of us were stubbornly defensive of our works in progress. Still we agreed to take the notes back and revise our works. When we met again it would be to present our works to one another anew, with the revisions.
An unexpected thing happened at that point. In the process of adjusting the plot to fit the suggestions of the other and incorporating the changes into an outline, we had fashioned two slightly different versions of a plotline that had more in common than not. It was actually sort of eerie how alike the two versions were.
We met for a final time just after class and the day before giving a formal presentation to the other members of the group. For some reason at this meeting more so than anytime previous everything we did simply clicked. We spoke with a single mind and purpose. Despite our diverse backgrounds and the completely unique ways that each of us created, we had a single body of text based on a mutually approved outline. There was some compromise still required but not too much. In the process of critique and revision we had agreed on the same basic format and the plot was virtually the same without significant deviation. I was personally relieved as I had thought only a few days before that we would never agree on a storyline. Suddenly we were ready to give the basic framework to the remainder of the group for their preproduction efforts. In the meantime Senobia and I would work closely together to hammer out a single draft of a final script.
Senobia was the sort of person that you had to like. She found a way to win you over to her side. The fact that anything that I stood for in the presentation lingered beyond the first draft is a testament to how stubborn I can be. She had me mesmerized for the most part but for whatever reason I refused to compromise on what I believes was right.
In the fall Senobia was moving out to a sorority but for the summer she still lived in a dorm. Due to the strict visitation policies, I could not go up to her room late in the evening when it was convenient for both of us to work. I had to work most nights until past ten o’clock. It seemed very inconvenient for us to meet in the social area of her dorm, especially that late. Anyway, she would have had to lug her typewriter downstairs and set it up or alternatively I would have had to bring mine. Add to that the confusion of a wide open area and the distraction of people frequently coming and going.
The library was out of the question as we could not talk there, besides it was usually closed at that time of night. So, it was determined that we would have to work in my fraternity room. As she was the better of the two of us at typing, she would use my typewriter to capture the essence of what our minds collaboratively produced.
It was hard work but for some reason the time passed by quickly. A couple of nights I would have been driving Senobia back to her dorm well after her curfew and she would have gotten into trouble for it. So she stayed over more than a few times and slept in my regular term roommate’s bed. I purposely woke up early enough to drive her back to her dorm in time for breakfast and I thought that no one ever knew that she had stayed the night.
While we were collaborating we did as much laughing as arguing as each of us garnered the other’s creative respect. We bounced ideas off one another, sometimes in a rapid fire manner. All along the way we provided daily updates to the remainder of the group so that their production efforts could remain focused on target. We were getting close to the studio time that was allotted for rehearsals, two weeks before the actual recording for our midterm project for a grade.
Of course I did not know and would not have cared to know that some of my fraternity brothers had already misperceived Senobia’s coming over nightly to work on the script. I only learned about the perceptions well after the fact. My fellow brothers believed that I was finally seeing someone seriously and that the laughter that they heard coming down the hall from my room was anything but amusement in response to our joint efforts at writing.
We were close to finishing the script, only had another long night or two shorter ones and that was good as the other production rehearsals began the ensuing week and the final production that served as our midterm examination was scheduled for the following Tuesday. Despite the rocky start I was very comfortable working with Senobia. I knew and understood how her mind worked at least on a creative level. She amazed me with her brilliance and it even embarrassed me. I thought that I was a good writer; she was so much better. Whatever was my best effort she could perfect, and almost momentarily and without much effort or rebuttal from a dumbfounded me.
It was perhaps the most incredible thing of all but when I realized it I could make full sense of it and establish the logic of how it might have happened. I have never been certain whether we are anything other than body except that judging from mind alone we tend to be very different. Senobia put all that into perspective. She was far more than her physical being ever indicated.
Senobia claimed to be 5’3 ½”. I asked her once as at 6’1 7/8” towered over her. Maybe she was close to her claim. Giving her the benefit of doubt as I never measured her height, she had still become larger in life to me that her physical stature. She also had a perfect body for her height, not a short woman’s torso at all but the body of a tall woman cast in miniature, as if she was proportionately shrunk into a lesser size so as to save space, for whatever reason in whichever deity’s dream.
As a male, Senobia's perfect figure had distracted my attention many times and even though I had cursed her face early on I had grown to know and respect her, she had incredibly delicate, even lovely features. At that point I was well past the denial of having a thing for her. I was even past the refusal to admit that I might have a lot in common with her after all.
The Fourth of July approached. My fraternity brothers Cooker, Larry and Chuck had a fantastic idea for a party. They bought a few Slip’n’Slides which we attached to garden hoses and stretched down a fairly steep incline outside of our fraternity’s front door. At the bottom we placed old plasticized mattresses to prevent anyone from rolling and tumbling out into the street. We invited everyone we knew to a party and that of course included my entire production group, although only Senobia, Alicia, Jennifer and Bill could make it. Lyndon and Mike had to go home for the holiday.
The holiday in the middle of the term was a friendly reminder of our national heritage and what we had to celebrate as a nation of great diversity and individual liberty. It was also a time to relax from the routine of eating, sleeping, attending classes and studying. Everyone was ready to unwind. So it was a very cordial even if overly friendly environment that our guests entered into. We had an attraction, a sort of private water park. We had some refreshments and grilled food. We were fully expecting to have a lot of fun.
The only thing that I noticed and only after she pulled me aside to ask if my fraternity brothers were okay with her being there, was that Senobia’s family had immigrated to the United States from Haiti a year before she was born. She felt self-conscious and singled out. Every other lady there was lily white.
Of course she didn’t believe me when I told her that I hadn’t noticed. I wouldn’t have believed me either even if it were mostly true. I never expected any repercussions from her being there. We were at college, the bastion of acceptance. She had been over to my room many times. The guys had to know her by now.
I took my turn at the non-sanctioned extended version of the Slip’n’Slide and after a long but quick ride over the watery plastic surface I reached the bottom virtually unscathed. I was just preparing to stand up from the pile of mattresses that had prevented me from major road burn as I might have otherwise skidded across the pavement at the bottom of the hill, when all of a sudden Senobia who had been directly behind me in the queue threw her shapely and bikini clad, very slight self down the hill at an velocity that was dangerous and would have been well beyond the ability of the mattresses to absorb. As I stood there, directly in her path, sort of in disbelief and mostly in denial of the immediacy of my choice to stand or flea, I heard her scream at the realization of the impending impact. I chose to stand firm and attempt to catch her even if the impact was going to be around 60 miles per hour.
At the instant of impact my feet slipped out from under me and flew up into the air as I tried in desperation to catch Senobia's wet body as it passed a few feet above me. My raised arms blocked her shoulders and the force of the impact threw me even further back onto the mattresses as she slid up from my grasp even carrying me along with her as we rolled over one another until at rest her legs were around my neck in a most unseemly and provocative way.
Still I had caught her, sort of. I had prevented her from flying beyond the mattresses out onto the pavement that was a real risk for anyone her size that had thrown self toward the slide at that speed.
It was funny. I looked up at her, even as her sat back on my chest. “You were expecting Superman perhaps?”
Senobia laughed, then looking around her, silently appraising the reality of what had just happened, “Damn that was good. You caught me. I mean I was out of control and you snagged me in mid air. God, that was incredible.”
“It happened so quickly," I was still a little bit addled. "I didn't want you to get hurt.”
“Thank you. I guess I'd better go slower next time,” she said as she rocked up to her knees, inadvertently presenting a part of her anatomy too close to my mouth and nose. Then she stood up.
"That would be my advice," I said as I accepted her offered hand for assistance but in the wet mud around the mattresses my weight caused her to lose her footing and she fell into me and back once more on top of me and onto the mattresses. She laughed at the thought of how ridiculous we must look to everyone that was still at the top of the hill. "It seems like we're trapped here," she said as she pressed up on her hands with arms locked at the elbows.
"It is not all that bad a thing," I said.
She kissed me on the cheek, "Thank you again."
"Hey, c'mon down there," Cooker called out to us. "Take that to your room."
Immediately she rolled off of me and I sat up. "What is that supposed to mean?" Senobia asked.
"How would I know?"
"They don't think that we...I mean all those times I came over here to...you didn't tell them that we..."
"Even if there had been something going on between us it would have been none of their business."
"Kiss her and be done with it!" Cooker called out.
"Are you sure you didn't..."
"Senobia, I didn't. Cooker can think whatever he wants to think."
"Well I am not okay with that," she stood up and as she started to storm off she slipped again. By then I was on my knees in an attempt to stand and I caught her in my arms as she fell.
"I seem to always be catching you."
"When we get out of this mess, can you drive me back to the dorm?" she asked as she finally succeeded in extricating herself from the mud to stand and gingerly negotiate the mud.
"Yeah, sure," I said as I stood up and joined her off to the side on the dry grass. "You really don't want to stay. I mean you haven't even eaten."
"Look, I really don't know what all you have been telling your fraternity brothers and I am sure I don't want to be a part of their dirty little thoughts."
"I promise you that I said nothing."
"It is what it is. You say you didn't; they say otherwise."
Even after the Fourth of July, every afternoon and almost all day on Saturday and Sunday my brothers invited their friends to party in the front yard. They would queue up to take turns running and belly flopping into the watery surface, reaching considerable velocities before crash landing on the mattresses below. Despite my invitations Senobia never came over to my fraternity again. Despite the fact that I liked her a lot I could never seem to convince her that I had never intimated that there had been anything between us. Whatever had developed in Cooker's fantasy though had spread amongst his click. A couple of times Larry had even asked if I had broken it off with that cute Black chick.
When our project was complete and it seemed that there was no other pressing reason to be with her, she did little more than say hello to me if she saw me in passing. It was strange how I reacted to the rejection. I needed to lose some weight anyway. I had been jogging once in a while all summer long but after the frustrations of having my veracity questioned I redoubled my efforts. I threw a lot of the anger into my exercising. I worked hard at becoming hardened of body and mind.
Brad, my big brother in the fraternal pecking order was my next door neighbor for that summer. He alone believed me that Senobia and I had done nothing in my room but work on our project. He had heard us talking to one another through the walls. Of course even if Brad had come to my defense, he was my friend and big brother so of course he would say anything that I wanted him to say.
It all served to further infuriate me. That was the last straw, the one thing that Cooker said to me that was unforgivable and not retractable.
I was shaving. My beard was so sparse and my hair was so light that at the time I did not need to do that more than once a week. Still, I made the effort to shave daily. Cooker came into the restroom and taking a newspaper with him into a stall he sat down and started to read.
Cooker and I had never really been best friends but ever since the party on the Fourth of July I had not spoken to him at all. He had obviously noticed. It may not have bothered him all that much as we would never hang out together. But for whatever reason he felt compelled to ask, "So whatever did I do to piss you off?"
"It's nothing Cooker," I said.
"It's that Black chick, though. That is what it is about, right?"
"Her name is Senobia."
"Senobia then. It's about her."
"Yeah it is about how you and your little group all jumped to conclusions."
"You're offended that we thought you were banging a Black chick? Dude, she has a hot little body on her. I wouldn't mind a little brown sugar..."
"Cooker, just shut up. Okay? We worked on a project together and we were good friends."
"Whatever you say. Anyway you wouldn't want that sort of thing on your reputation, being social director and all. What kind of sororities do you think you could line up for us if your girlfriend was Black?"
"What?"
"You going to invite some sistas over?"
"I am not even going to grace that with a comment, Cooker."
"I know you are a country boy. You understand how it is."
"No, Cooker, how is it?"
"Have your fun with the Black girls but never get serious. That's the way it is."
"Cooker, just don't talk to me, okay?"
"Fine whatever you want."
Brad told me to let it drop. The more that I tried to forget the angrier I became. It wasn't that I was obsessing over it so much as I felt that I had lost the ability to choose my friends. What if I had wanted to date Senobia? What if she liked me and we started hanging out together? Would that constitute grounds for the chapter voting to have me removed as social director? How crazy was that? What did it matter?
I didn't discuss the matter, not even with Brad. It was something that soured my associations with my brothers and so, except for Brad, I spoke to the others only when absolutely necessary.
Brad and I were almost inseparable every evening. It had cooled down enough at night that it was comfortable to run. We were both very much into getting back in shape. Even so we went out jogging together, pacing one another and taunting one another to achieve greatness, which was beating the personal best that each of us might have established only the previous night. Each night we returned from our runs exhausted. We'd shower and then collapse onto the couch in my room to watch reruns of Star Trek, the original TV series.
It was toward the end of August that Brad began to complain about the smell in my room and after a cursory scan he determined that it was my smelly sweat socks that I promptly admitted had never been washed in recent memory, at least for that summer.
I remember Brad’s response at the realization, even as he was getting up to go back to his own un-air-conditioned room. “I’m sorry,” he said. "It stinks in your room and I need to get to bed.”
I had of course noted the smell from time to time. I had generally attributed it to the pile of laundry that I had in my closet. I had never thought that the source of the stench was those filthy sweat socks that I had worn all summer for jobbing and had yet to bother laundering.
When I knew what the source was an idea came to me immediately out of my desire for revenge. The very same brothers that had offended first Senobia, then me and had arrogantly assumed that they knew what was best for me and the social direction of my private life shared a common air conditioned room. As a chapter officer and the keeper of the master key for the summer, I had responsibilities to maintain the rooms and fix anything that needed to be fixed. I suppose it was a little bit of creative interpretation but I decided that I needed to right some wrongs.
("The Curse" is a Three Part Story. This is the end of Part 2)
E
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Every Day's a Great Day
Today my store received a visit from the Regional Manager, my boss's boss. Needless for me to say, my boss has been acting like the proverbial hen sitting on a hot rock for the past few days. It is not that the store was a mess but just there were some projects that we needed to completed andeverything else needed to be fine tuned. Even so, a Regional manager will find a few things that need focus. The RM likes our store and the visits are constructive and beneficial to growing the business.
The previous RM was very different. I had the distinct feeling that he would have preferred the company not having a store in Melbourne or at least it belonging to another RM - which is probably why he gave the store up to the new RM when the company split the state of Florida into two regions. It always seemed like a great inconvenience for him to come to our store. He was inconsistent too. That drives me nuts in a superior. I can deal with a hard ass as long as they are an unwavering hard ass and the standards and rules that govern their behavior never change.
I state this on his behalf, though. He was managing nearly 20 stores between Florida and Puerto Rico so he didn't have the opportunity to come to Melbourne that often. It was just as well that he stayed away.
Melbourne is a small store with some unique challenges. The space coast has perhaps the most unusual demographic. On the one hand it boasts the largest concentration of serious geek types in the nation except for possibly Silicon Valley in California. Add to that the native Floridians (yes there are a few still here), the assorted rednecks (crackers or whatever you perfer), African, Haitian, Puerto Rican, Cuban, Jamaican, Dominican, Mexican, Korean, Chinese, Japanese, the transplanted Yankees from the northeast and midwest who have moved here permanently in retirement, the 'snowbirds' who winter in Florida and those like myself that have to raise a family here and this seemed as good a place as any to accomplish that.
So my store will sell a rather weird assortment of high tech products, quite the contrary of what those in the ivory tower at corporate might think.
Anyway the walk of the store and our meeting with the RM went very well and we all felt like we have been given some direction to improve upon what we were doing to be more successful.
Despite all the positive things that happened at work I have a lot of negatives going on in my life. In the past the negatives have very often driven me to rise to the occasion and triumph. Lately the challenges are just bringing me down. I'm afraid to start writing another book. The last time I felt anywhere near this this way it was after I had moved into my apartment in Wallingford, CT and Jina had moved the children here to the Melbourne, FL area. I was writing the material that eventually became Book 5- "And We All Fall Down".
When it came time to go through that material and assemble it into a book, I glossed over much of it. I did not want to revisit and rehash what I was going through in my personal life when I wrote it. I worried that it was dark and all sorts of evil things lurked hidden within the words. More so than anything I had ever written, I dreaded even reading it.
It is funny, when I was editing all the books in the series that yet remain to be published I purposely avoided Book 5. I even came up with a pretty good reason to leapfrog over it. I knew that Book 6 needed an ending and so I skipped from Book 4 - "Sunglass Syndrome" directly to Book 6 - "Sages and Lesser Fools" and wrote the last third of it and even experimented with different endings. The one that I decided upon kind of necessitated the creation of the second series.
When I told my publisher that I needed to write another three or so books to finish things off he laughed. He has been telling me for years that I have trouble writing endings.
I even started to write Book 7 - "Small Change" that is a part of the second series before I went back into Book 5 to edit and revise it. When I did I was astonished. Not only was it pretty good as far as plot but it is remarkably sensitive to the human element of the plights of the characters.
Another reason that I am down is that I have been wrestling with mortality a lot lately. Friends and people that I felt were personally important to me have been passing away, a few of them were near my age. May 5th of this year will be the 10th anniversary of the first seven times that I died. Yeah, I know may need to explain that one again. I mentioned it in a previous rant about health insurance. If you haven't read that one I'll explain briefly a little later.
You see the conditions of my illness almost ten years ago were somewhat unusual. I am relatively certain that I would have died had it not been for Jina and her stubborn insistance that I go see my doctor. I hate doctors. Doctors tell you bad things about your body that you don't want to hear.
My doctor happened to be a cardiologist. I had a heart murmur that he was monitoring, a condition that had been identified while I was in the Air Force. I was barred from becoming an officer because of my heart murmur. I was barred from flight duty. Even though I hate flying, I felt useless on the ground. I left the service.
In April 1995, my son and I went to Florida to visit my father and mother. It was my mother's birthday. She had Alzheimers and was a danger to herself. Even though she had lived in trepidation of the eventuality it was best for her to go to a nursing home where she could be monitored. Dad went over to the home everyday and stayed with her as much as he could and fed her and talked to her. My son and I went to visit her.
Dad had Parkinson's even then although it had yet to be diagnosed.
My son and I did the tourist thing while we were in Florida. If he was going to miss some school we were going to at least make it worthwhile. We went to Disney MGM Studios and Universal Studios.
It is funny that we lived in Florida for many years but the kids were really too youing to do the parks. Only after we were in Connecticut did we ever go to Disney, Universal and Sea World. When we lived in Florida in the late 1980's we had taken the kids to Bush Gardens in Tampa and Weekee Wachee/Buccaneer Bay in Hernando County a few times.
The only other things that we did while we were in Florida was go to the sponge docks in Tarpon Springs and the Fred Howard Park near Tarpon Springs, which had one of the nicest beaches in the Tampa Bay area.
Somewhere along the way I did something that introduced a couple of bacteria into my blood stream, one a staph infection and the other a strep infection. It is surmised that it came through a small cut on my foot. I have no idea how it happened because I never noticed even having a small cut.
Five days after I returned home to Connecticut from Florida, on a Friday night I felt kinda tired, more so than usual. I mentioned it to my general manager and he told me to get a good night's sleep. I had areas on my hands that felt as if I had slinters under my skin. As I worked in a home improvments store it was pretty likely that I had picked up splinters so I thought nothing of it, just wanted to get them, out.
I heated the end of a pin with a cigarette lighter (I used to smoke back then) and dug into my skin for the errant splinter.
The next day I was very tired, almost physically exhausted even when I woke up. I didn't know that I was running a low grade fever. I had to work a middle shift so I was not really critical to store staffing. Whenever I worked the middle shift I was in charge of walking the floor and making sure people were taking care of customers and not taking care of personal things or socializing in general.
Maureen was the Assistant Manager that had opened the store that day. She was someone that I had hired as a cashier years before and had mentored through being an assisatnt head cashier, head cashier, department supervisor and finally some time shortly after I had moved on to another store she was promoted to Assistant Store Manager. Maureen was the best.
The general manager and I came in around 8 am then around noon the two closing managers came in. Aroung 11 AM I was feeling so bad that I could not really focus on anything at all. I was watching the front-end of the store at the time and I actually paged Maureen upto the front because I was having trouble standing up. She looked at me and said that I looked pale. I think her exact words were more along the lines of 'death warmed over'. She felt my forehead and as a mother herself she confirmed that I had a fever. She paged the general manager and told him that I was very sick and she was sending me home which he had not problem with.
The drive home was interesting. I had a problem that I needed to fix on my computer and I felt strong enough to stop at Staples and get some blank floppies that I needed to work the issue. As sick as I was I was that big a geek.
By the time that I got home, I could barely walk. I told Jina that I was going to go lie down for a while. That was when everything went haywire in my life.
Before that even if I was spending an inordinate amount of time at work, I was special dad. Bills were paid. We lived in an incredible home and we looked forward to retiring comfortably. Jina had a karate school that was fledgling but it was beginning to get some customers. Everything seemed to be on course in my life at that time. Beneath the surface things were quite different but I was oblivious to the reality.
Sven so, I knew that things were not entirely as they seemed. My income had never always kept pace with the expenses. Still, I loved Jina and I really believe - based on what she did for me in the following weeks - that she still loved me. There were problems in paradise that only escalated and were exacerbated by the illness that befell me and the financial fiasco that ensued.
I could tell you that I was unconscious for two days and that I remember nothing from that time. That might even satisfy you completely. It would not be true. I had delusions that to this very day I remember vividly. I have no idea where they came from but they were connected with me and I felt that I had some reason for perceiving them. I was engaged in a war on some level that I barely understood. There were dark creatures with thick black leathery wings that persisted in their attacking me and my friends. Some of my friends were a sort of fortified human, while others were large cats with human attributes. Others were Wolves or Dogs with the ability to stand on their hind legs and brandish weapons. There were even friends that were strange combinations of Wolf, Cat and human.
Having since purused my notes from as far back as college I know the source of the creatures and I suspect that the elevated fevor that was above 103 for a long time had brought the delusions of my creative mind to the forefront in a way that lingers as too real to ever forget.
For two days I lay in a pool of sweat and teetering on the brink of a coma, lapsing in and out of a dreamstate that was somehow connecting to the events of a world unlike any that I had ever encountered except in the course of my writing. Even so things were happening that I had never written about or even imagined. I was embroiled in a battle between good and evil. I had worked out some of the parameters of a fantasy world in some of my journals but I had never written anything about a besieged city, only about the ruins of a city that Andy Hunter happened upon.
My overall take on all this is that I had all this going on in my head and the fever just served to bring portions of it together for me so that I could assemble it into a sensible mix that would have evolved into the books regardless. That is probably the official line of crap That I will swear to going forward. All the while I was certain that I was there.
I barely survived those two days. I was physically there and certain of what I was sensing in a way that I cannot deny. If the illness made me insane for that time well maybe I can be excused but I tell you that I affected change in that fantastic environment and it all seemed very rational, purpose driven and real.
When Jina had convinced me to see my doctor I went in for tests on a Monday. I was so weak that they had to bring a wheel chair down to the van for me to use to get to the doctor's office. They drew blood, did an EKG and did x-rays. Afterwards they sent us home. On Tuesday morning, my doctor called my wife and told her to take me to the hospital and meet him there.
I had no idea what was going on. He had given me som antibiotics that I had taken and I was actually feeling a little better because my fever was down. I had more energy anyway. In my momentary hubris I thought that I was well on my way to recovery.
Then the realization set in. We were sent to admitting and they were ready for me to appear and assign me a room. The admissions clerk told me, "Mr. Williams. You are a very sick man. You need our help."
For about two weeks I lived in the hospital. I was one of the ambulatory patients. I could walk to where I needed to be and I could take a daily shower. My fever was in check, albeit mysteriously holding between 100 and 102. I was on antibiotic therapy but I was healthy otherwise. Imagine that someone can be accustomed to having a body temperature of 100 to 102 degrees.
Within the first few days of my 'incarceration' in the hospital, an immunologist stopped by to explain bacterial infections in the blood and the treatments. He was the first person that warned me that since I had a heart murmur that I would be very lucky if I did not need a heart valve replacement after my ordeal.
After about two weeks of antibacterial IV treatment I was responding very well. My temperature was around 99 degrees and thus far every test was signalling that there was no damage to my mitral valve. If my condition continued to improve for another couple of days I was promised that I could go back home. As an unauthorized celebration my district social director smuggled in a pizza for me to share with him and a couple of people from my store that wanted to deliver a huge get well card.
You have to realize that the only thing to watch on TV at that time was the OJ trial or the news coverage of the Oklahoma City Bombing. The impromptu pizza party was welcomed and raised my morale. They also delivered all sorts of computer magazines for me to read.
When the next week came around I persisted that I was normal and wanted to be released. My cardiologist was concerned that my temperature was still above 99 and at night rose to 100. He wanted to monitor me further I forced the issue with an I want to go home. Hospitals are for the sick and people die in hospitals.
"Let me do another test but you have to go to Hartford for it. If that comes out clean, fine you can go home."
What he sent me to Hartford Hospital for was a scan of the interior chest from within the esophagus. Imagine having an apparatus that is about two inches thick forced down your throat almost to your stomach. Yes they numbed my throat to suspend the gag reflex but even so it was an awful experience. I could barely breathe.
All the time I had foreigners looking at me, the scopes and monitors connected to me while commenting to one another in non-English languages. One I recognized as Russian from my military training.
Finally a staff doctor showed up, a surgeon in fact. To me he looked far too young, like Dougy Houser. He looked at my chart, my scans and commented to the others briefly before he looked at me and said, "I am having you admitted here. You will need surgery. I want to run some more tests so we can fix everything at once if necessary but you will need surgery to fix your major problem."
I had expected to receive the seal of approval to depart. I felt fine, absolutely fine. But all of a sudden a doctor is finally explaining my condition in terms that clearly settle with some gravity around me. I need open heart surgery.
I was admited given a room and scheduled for surgery on May 3, my dead brother Baris's birthday.
One of the people that worked for me was an ordained minister and one of the most positive people I had ever met. Even though I was not fervent in the faith he was there at my bedside to offer a prayer for me in the wee hours of the morning before I went under the knife. I remember telling him that we are all already where we need to be. In response I drew a frown of consternation. I then looked him in the eye and said, "I think I will be around for a while longer."
When the execution was complete, 'Brent' and 'Elgon' were still alive. The issue was that he might not have been as fully qualified as if he had played the game. Even so he was alive. He had survived death but was alive.
It was only after I had to access the medical records for proving to the health insurance that such procedures as jump-starting my heart seven times was medicially necessary that I learned that I had died. clinically not once but 7 times.
It still leaves me speechless that the health insurance company felt that that was an unnecessary procedure. Hmmmm, they would have preferred that I died. It would have cost them less money in the long run, I suppose.
E
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Specter of Dammerwald (Second Installment)
SURPRISE BONUS Enjoy the as yet unpublished Second Installment of the prequel fot the Fantasy Plot in Over Over X.
2.
Rotor had listened in fear of being discovered as each of the other Wolfcats passed close by, several times in fact. It would be more than embarrassing for Ela’na and him to be caught in one another’s amorous embrace. The stealth of concealment amongst the deepest shadows of the oldest trees in the great forest was almost perfect, even to the point of having effectively masked Ela’na’s and his scents with the fragrances of wild flowers that erupted from the thatch of twigs and leaves upon which they were laying. He was rather proud of the achievement, especially considering the pressure and duress that he had felt just prior to conceiving the plan.
He looked at Ela’na. He could feel her exhaustion even as his own. It was uncanny how much they were alike and yet there were things that she was that he could never be. His strengths were also her weaknesses. Each was the completion for the other. It made so much sense for them to bond. Even so they were only in the second season and it was far too early for them to have even done what already they had.
As right as everything had felt between the two of them Rotor was still concerned. They had specifically violated the spirit if not exactly the letter of the laws of the Pack. Why did he or she allow it to happen? Why had either of them permitted the wonderful innocence of youth to be smudged with the intrusion of what perhaps was best left for adults? Now he felt fully responsible for Ela’na in a way that he never could have imagined. The thought of her made him ache to touch her. Even though they were lying next to one another, he missed feeling her warmth surround him. He could not clear the recent memories of intense emotion and pleasure. Was this the consummation of love, the physical expression of what love for another was really supposed to be?
His desire for her was limitless. It was not just that he would protect and defend her as he would certainly have done that anyway. It was more so that she was the only one that was of any significance or consequence to him. It was natural for him to feel as he did because he loved her. He had always loved her. Still he understood why Wolf law was as it was. It was a heavy weight on him, even if it were a burden that he was more than willing to bear, the weight robbed him of his youth. He would never be a pup again.
No one needed to ever know what they had done. Ela’na had made him promise to her that it was their secret. Even so he did not want the special moment to ever end. He could hardly bear the idea of being apart from her, even to say good night. He had confessed the extent of his love to her over and over in the throes of their passion. What he had said were not the hollow words of momentary lustful desire but the the attempt to express in words the ineffable sensations of rapture. He had known her for all his life. He was certain that there had been a reason for them to have always been together; even to have shared the tragedy that they had in common that was the woe of their individual births.
Ela’na moaned as she rolled over, and opened an eye, looking up through the dark lace canopy of branches and leaves. Faintly she could see the light of the Wolf Star. For her, it seemed to underscore the importance of the moment. She had wished upon it not so long ago and now her wish was fulfilled. “Did you sleep?” She asked.
“For a little while. I was frightened that the others might find us.”
“Where are the others?” she asked.
“We hid from them pretty well. They passed by us ever so near and many, many times.”
“I was worried too, that they would find us while we were, well, while we were here.”
“I know. I was trying to keep track of them but you kept distracting me.”
Ela’na smiled. “We must never tell anyone,” she reiterated.
Rotor nodded.
Ela’na stretched lazily as she buried her nose into the thick white fur of Rotor’s chest. He smelled so much like Tharr that it was comforting to her. Still there was something different, something strange about his scent. It made Rotor unique.
“We need to get back. It is already getting darker. It will be full night before we reach the cavern.”
“I want to feel like this, like I feel now forever. Do you think that is possible?” Ela’na asked.
“Some c’eun we will be together always,” Rotor said. “I can’t bear the thought of it getting any darker because I won’t be able to see you. I love the way you smell. I love hearing your voice. It is the way you look that is incredibly powerful.”
“I am worried that it will be a very long time before we can be together, always,” Ela’na confessed. “I will be older then and less attractive to you.”
“To me I will always remember how you are now. When I see you that is what you will look like.”
“That is sweet. The words are easy for you to say, though.”
“I’ll just have to make sure that I prove it to you. Maybe I can’t control anything else,” Rotor said. “I think I have control of us being together.”
Ela’na groaned as Rotor stood and stretched. “We have to go,” he said, taking charge of the moment. “I think the others headed back already. They gave up ever finding us.”
“We won!” Ela’na exclaimed as she sprang to her feet, but then stretched a little, complaining that she was a little sore in places that she did not know could even hurt.
For his own part, Rotor ached in some fairly strange places, as well. Still, overall the way that he had felt, the forces of nature had converged to bless them both. He would have endured any pain or danger to have been with Ela’na for the intense moments of pleasure and passion that they had shared. He would have faced Death’s Shadow if need be. He loved her that much. He would always love her. It was as necessary to him as the air that sustained him.
Above the dense green awning of leaves and branches, the first two suns had long ago set and the other one must have been setting just at the horizon. The sky above the trees was already littered with the brighter stars. The shadows beneath the trees had grown long and deep. It always seemed to get dark sooner in the deepest places of the forest, the places where the pups were not supposed to go. Still, Rotor felt that he knew the way back. He had frequented these parts of the forest. He had never known why as it was not a part that was teeming with game. Now he was certain of the purpose behind his youthful explorations.
Walking alongside Rotor, Ela’na felt very safe. Even as the shadows of the old forest became impenetrable for her sight, she trusted him completely. Rotor did not rely on his eyes in lieu of his incredible sense of smell. He would find the way back to the Pack even if they became lost.
She had faith in him.
Suddenly Rotor halted, causing Ela’na to skip as she stepped behind him.
“Do you feel it?”
“What?” Ela’na asked as she peered around him in an attempt to see anything more than a shadow where his face should have been.
“I felt something was watching us. There is something here, living here.”
“You mean like an animal? Do you smell anything?”
“No, no. Even so, I know it is alive. I have felt it a time or two before and it has always been in this place, or very near to it.”
“You know where we are then,” Ela’na felt a wave or relief wash through here.
“I know. Every time I have been here I have been lost.”
“What do you mean lost?”
“I mean lost as in I do not know which direction to go. You know confused and disoriented.”
“You have always found your way.”
“Yes, I have. Eventually I will know the way to go but only after I trust my feelings.”
“Then do what you must. You scared me a little when you said you were lost.”
“Don’t worry,” Rotor said. “I’m here, I’m with you.”
“Don’t ever leave me alone. Not here.”
“How could I do something like that to you?” Rotor asked.
“Look! What is that?” Ela’na was staring directly ahead of them, where the forest appeared to be as dark as the deepest recesses of the cavern of Belkul where much of the Wolf Pack dwelled.
Rotor was already looking. For the moment his attention was transfixed, mesmerized by the motion of an approaching light. It was as red as if it were a reflection of the first dawn’s sun. It seemed to be dancing back and forth, up and down. It was growing with each moment that elapsed.
“Aren’t you afraid?” Ela’na asked as she trembled in fear.
“Of course I am,” Rotor said. “It is just that we can’t go anywhere else.”
“What is it?”
“We will find out, very soon.”
Ela’na ducked behind him again, “You mean you have never seen it before?”
“Never.”
“Hide me.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Neither of them could tear their eyes away from the light. Soon it was all that they could see, the world around them was immersed in a homogenous red tint. The ground beneath their paws trembled, shaking at each unseen, shadowy footfall of whatever was behind the light.
“Why?” the question rumbled low, to the point that neither Ela’na nor Rotor was certain that it was even a voice.
“Are you talking to us?” Rotor responded bravely but toward the end there was a slight quiver in his voice that belied the fear he was trying in vain to suppress.
“You are…here,” the words came but this time as a shrill shriek in the terror of the culmination of all their fears’ foundation.
Ela’na tried to turn away. She could not avert her eyes. She could not raise even a paw from the ground to move. Rotor was her only protection but even he seemed to be in no better position of defense.
“Let us go,” Rotor challenged defiantly.
“You stay!” The air snapped as a discharge of intense light blinded each of them for a few moments. “Sit!” The word carried force, compelling them to immediately obey.
“Y-y-you, a-a-are….Dammerwald,” Ela’na sensed a part of the truth and confessed her understanding, however weakly.
“The heart was profaned,” the voice trailed off. “Your presence impure.” Suddenly a heavily robed figure stood near to where they sat. With outstretched arm, it set down the lantern that continued to bath the immediate area in the red light that it produced.
“We are sorry,” Ela’na said.
“Guilt here is stain. Wishful words not remove,” the figure turned away for a moment. “Wrongful deeds profaned Sacred place. Not cleansed. Great effort weighs other deeds. Might undo curse.”
“What curse?” Rotor asked.
“Service, shed blood and toil. Struggle sweat, battle suffering, then harm undone.”
“I do not like riddles,” Rotor protested.
“Desires insignificant, narrow sight flawed; immediate concern unimportant. Single event good intent not remedy.”
Rotor exchanged a questioning glance to Ela’na, and then asked her, “Do you understand?”
Ela’na did not speak, only nodded her head ever so slightly that Rotor wondered if it was even a response at all.
“Love endures age, youthful lust diminishes energy,” the voice no longer came from the robed figure, but from Ela’na lips. “Understood,” she said in her own voice.
“You understand?” Rotor asked Ela’na.
She nodded, but this time he was certain that it was a nod. Suddenly the red light extinguished, leaving in absence of any light the pungent odor of rotten bird eggs. “We must go now,” she said.
“Go? Go where?”
“This way,” Ela’na said. As she stepped in front of him, his nose tingling in the darkness with the scent of her, passing by. Rotor sniffed to confirm the direction and found it was easy to follow her even into the abject darkness of the nighttime forest.
Rotor was unaccustomed to being led. Only a few times when he was very young his father had led him along but that was as would be expected. In practice hunts he had always led his father. He was old enough to understand pride and ego. His father was fine with his son’s amazing sense for the scent being better than his. Ronin was even proud of his son’s distinction.
There were others in the Pack that would not be so open-minded. They were already jealous.
Letting Ela’na lead was against his nature, but he was devoted to her in a way that his pride could never interfere. In support of her, he scented the way to ensure there were no surprises ahead. He trusted Ela’na but he also knew that even though she was also a Wolfcat his sense of smell was by far superior.
Rotor maintained his focus on Ela’na and the path that was just ahead. It was too dark to see her as anything more but a shadow against a darker shadow but he cherished having even that glimpse. He wanted to shout out to all Wolves that he loved her but it was something that he had promised to her that he would not do. He imagined being the Alpha Male and Ela’na would of course be The Wolfcat of the Pack. It was not always necessarily the case that The Wolfcat of the Pack became the bonded mate of the Alpha Male but there was a tradition. It was in the interest of diversity and for the overall good that the infusion of the Wolfcat blood was held as more important than the permanent mating of one Wolf to another.
Even so The Wolfcat was often bonded with the Alpha Male so that even if she had pups by another member of the Pack, the pups had some status in the succession within the Pack. Such a conception was most often the result of a union at the conclusion of a ritual dance, when The Wolfcat would select a mate for the night from amongst the assemblage of Wolves.
Even though The Wolfcat Mentha had conceived several pups as the result of unions following the ritual ceremonies, she had never given birth of a pup that was strong in the Wolfcat attributes. It was the fear of some that was voiced in rumors that even Ela’na and Rotor had heard that the blood of the Wolfcat Goddess was getting more diluted with each successive generation. Although neither Ela’na nor Rotor had been told, there were some in Council that believed that the remaining Wolfcats should be mated exclusively to others with the strong Wolfcat attributes, forcing the few remaining Male Wolfcats to take female Wolfcat mates. However, most male Wolfcats were well past their mating seasons. Rotor was rare to his generation. If there were ever such a resolution of the Council, Rotor would be very busy indeed.
He thought that he had imagined it at first, but then as he relinquished his dependency on his eyes he saw with another part of his being. There was a faint glow to Ela’na, something that maybe he alone or perhaps only the other Wolfcats could sense. It was less powerful and comforting than the reassuringly close proximity of her scent but he understood that this aura radiated as his means of finding her for even a greater distance than his smell might permit and especially if she was not up wind of him. He doubted the necessity of it, but then in the very next instant he felt a sickness sinking to the bottom of the hollow hunger in his stomach. How could it be true? How was it that he knew?
He wondered if Ela’na knew. How could he know it and she would not? It was a horrible truth, the worst thing that could ever happen.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Rotor said aloud expressing his feelings but then realizing how abrupt it was to break the silence.
“You won’t,” Ela’na said. “I am here.”
“I mean as we get older.”
“We will always be together, just not always in the same place.”
Rotor understood. She did know. How could she know? Then it occurred to him, how could she be so much like him but not know what he knew? Their blood came from the same Wolfcat Goddess and despite the generations that intervened, each of them was strong in the key attributes.
They had arrived at a portion of the forest that was very strong with Wolf scent. It was a great relief to both of them to be so close to home, except that Rotor scented some perimeter guards and brought it immediately to Ela’na attention. They did not need to debate the implications. It would not be well to be seen together, especially outside the established territory. They were still considered pups and after the hunters had already set out, pups were supposed to be home in the cavern or in the town at the edge of Dammerwald or the village to the north of the cavern.
It was certainly dangerous for pups to be out and away from the protected areas that were near to the main body of the Pack but it was also that the scent of other Wolves might frighten the prey away from the area of the hunt. Otherwise what was it that a male and female Wolfcat were doing, out and about in the dark? There would be rumors that neither of them would want to counter. The rumors would carry a stigma that neither of them could shake. So it was imperative that the two of them or at least Ela’na penetrate the perimeter defenses of the Pack.
“We both need to make it through,” Ela’na protested.
“Right or wrong, I can endure the challenges. My being outside the perimeter is easier to explain than our being together.”
“I understand that,” Ela’na flashed a smile.
“Then we have to make sure that you pass the perimeter undetected,” Rotor said.
“How could I do that? The Wolves will surely scent me.”
Rotor smiled, then turned toward the wind, and pointed, “There is the weakness. After that we have only to mask your scent.”
Ela’na grinned. “You need to be a guard. You know how others might violate the security.”
Rotor was impressed even if he did not express it as she was already thinking for the good of the entire Pack and their common security. It was the earmark of a leader and to his chagrin he had been thinking on a much more personal level.
Rotor pointed out a breech in the perimeter security, a gap through which at least Ela’na could make her way back to her home in the cavern of Belkul. For his part Rotor would hang back and defend her intrusion and serve as a distraction for Ela’na to pass undetected. If confronted he could explain his being out and about on an adventurous escapade, seeking to find prey even before the hunters were dispatched. Even though such was frowned upon it was the sort of aggressiveness that a would-be hunter pup needed to display in order to gain the necessary attention to advance in the Pack.
“We need to be very careful, always keeping the secret,” Rotor said.
“We need to be cautious, yes,” Ela’na said. “Still we have always been together, for all our lives. It would seem odd if that changed abruptly. Our fathers are close friends.”
“What if our fathers found out?”
“Who would ever tell them? It is just we two that know.”
“We must not be seen together alone,” Rotor said. “That is all I am saying.”
“Fine,” Ela’na said but he could tell from her tone that she meant something else. It was just that having no better ideas, she was accepting the condition.
Rotor nudged Ela’na forward. Despite her protests that they must return together she knew that he was right. His logic was flawless and convincing. If they were seen coming back into the dens together, there would be talk, always just out of their earshot, rumors would develop and very soon reputations would be ruined. They were far too young for any of that.
He watched her penetrate the perimeter in perfect stealth, staying to the shadows until she was well within the common area outside the entrance to the cavern.
* * * *
Rotor sniffed the path for the scent of their most immediate trail. It was still strong, too strong for his comfort. He needed to assuage his paranoia. He backtracked and as best he could he concealed Ela’na’s scent and brushed away her paw prints with his the long fur of his tail. He then quickly went back and forth, using his own scent to hide hers. He did everything that he could think of that might confuse anyone that might happen upon their trail back into Dammerwald.
He used the skills that he had learned from Elder Wolves but moreover he drew upon his instinct that had so far served him very well. He skirted the shadows just out of the range of scent and sight for the guards that were posted to protect the perimeter. He knew them by name and reputation not that any of them were on close terms.
One of the guards was Jusdan, the father of Stella, a young shewolf of the generation just ahead of Rotor’s. He knew Stella as Ela’na’s aunt Helty had sometimes looked after her whenever Jusdan was posted at guard. She was old enough now that she could look after herself.
Even though Jusdan was fairly young he was well regarded for his devotion to The Wolfcat Mentha and he was part of her person guard at times. Otherwise, Jusdan was a stranger to Rotor. They had never talked and to his recollection they had never even said hello.
Sprigg, the other guard was a season older than Jusdan, a mere four seasons older than Rotor. Sprigg was a very good guard but had always wanted to run with the hunters. As Grrl was busyy traing younger hunters, Red had arranged for Ronin to mentor Sprigg. Rotor remembered overhearing his father telling Red, “Sprigg would starve if he didn’t happen to trip over some prey. He takes orders well and follows instructions exactly.”
“As a hunter then, he sounds like a perfect guard. Which means he is where he needs to be,” Red had finished Ronin’s thought. Then he had added, “Good, we always have need of some Wolves that listen to orders. Everyone wants to be a hunter. Who protects the young and the mothers when all the most aggressive Wolves are away and about their business?”
To that point Rotor had not really respected anyone but a hunter Wolf. His father and Tharr were as well as gods to him. It was the exchange between his father and Red that lingered in his mind ever after: “You were a hunter without equal, you could have been anything, yet you chose to be a guard.”
“Someone has to keep the cavern safe while you and your friends are off. There is hardly any purpose to a hunt if there is no one to feed on the bounty. Besides what if the hunt fails? Someone has to protect the herds and the crops.”
Red had been a great hunter at some point but he chose to train and lead the guard. It was a revelation to Rotor. To guard the Pack was an honorable service to The Wolfcat and the Alpha Male. It also explained why the pups were trained in all the arts before the Pack would accept them as full-fledged Wolves, as some pups were better suited for some tasks but in a pinch any Wolf could fill in. For instance, his father had stood guard for Red and some others when they were ill. Tharr stood guard regularly each cycle of the moons, in order that one of the guards might attend the Wolfcat’s ritual dance. It was not required of Tharr but something that he did in order to give one of the formal guard a rest and a chance to enjoy the show and for the Wolfcat to select a guard as her designated mate for the evening. For his willingness to do this and forego his honored place in the inner circle of the Pack, his giving up a reserved seat to what was very often a much younger Wolf was greatly respected among the guards.
Finally the elapsed time since Ela’na had parted and the distance from that point along the perimeter seemed appropriate. Even if she had been observed and challenged the likelihood that there could be any connection was minimal. Rotor boldly penetrated the perimeter in plain view of the guards, even said hello to them by name.
“What are you doing out this late, and alone?” Jusdan challenged.
“I was practicing the hunt. It is hard to practice the night hunt in the full light of the c’eun,” Rotor floated the point of his argument.
Jusdan shook his head, “Ronin would not want you to be out this late and alone. Hunters never hunt alone.”
“Then don’t tell him. You won’t tell, will you?”
Jusdan laughed, “I have reports to make.”
“Well, do what you have to do, then,” Rotor said as he started to continue on his way.
“Of course, that depends. I mean you could owe me for this, Rotor.”
“What could I ever possibly do for you? I am still a pup.”
Jusdan turned serious. “You are far too sly to be a mere pup. You may be a pup in age alone. I have not considered you a pup for some time. You have advanced too far too fast.”
Rotor did not reply but tried not to reveal his amusement and glanced away in order to avoid Jusdan’s piercing glare.
“It is the Wolfcat blood. Your father has it as does Tharr. I have heard that they were also very strange when they were pups. It is in our training that the Wolfcats are to be treated in a special way, that in some instances what would be unacceptable for a common Wolf would be allowable under some conditions for a Wolfcat.”
“Is this one of those situations?”
Jusdan smiled. “I can be persuaded to make it one.”
“Then I owe you.”
“That is exactly what I needed to hear.”
“Good, then,” Rotor laughed. “Whenever you need something that I can provide then just let me know.” He started to walk away.
“Uh, by the way, your girlfriend must have made it home by now,” Jusdan added.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your girlfriend, Ela’na - Tharr’s daughter?”
“What was she doing out at this time of night?”
“Exactly my point,” Jusdan said.
“I’m certain I would not know.”
“Don’t play that with me. I am a guard for a very good reason.”
“I’m sure you are very good at what you do.”
“Actually in many ways I am better than Red, even.”
“Okay,” Rotor accepted it at face value, not seeing any point in challenging what he suspected was mostly an idle boast.
“You and Ela’na, out past dark, come back together, well trying to conceal that by a considerable interval. I must say that I am impressed, Rotor. For one as young as you, it shows certain craftiness that is an earmark of leadership.”
“There is a point to all this, I hope.”
“Of course there is a point. Always there is a point. I wanted you to know that I knew and that you did not fool me.”
“You won’t say anything?”
“That might require another favor.”
Rotor grinned. “Okay, so now I understand. Whatever it is, you name it in your own good time and I will do it if I am able.”
Jusdan stood and stretched. “You know I could make it all very easy for you. Your lady friend would never bother to notice a simple Wolf like me. I mean I am not an ugly sort but I am not handsome and daring like Damon or you. I only ask that she knows me and says hello to me by name whenever she sees me. I know that in due course she will be The Wolfcat. That would be the honor of a lifetime for me that she just knows my name and that I am one of the guards that protects her.”
Rotor cocked his head to one side, “That is all you want?”
“Yes, can you do that for me?”
“I can’t speak for Ela’na but I think it is probably fine. I mean why would she not want to know you? You are a fine and honorable Wolf. I know that if she is to be The Wolfcat, then it would be her desire to know as many Wolves as she could.”
Jusdan bowed, “I am grateful for your kind words but I want to see the results of your commitment.”
“When?”
“Immediately.”
“Like now?”
“Like next time I see Ela’na.”
“You may see her before I do.”
“I doubt that Rotor.”
“Well, okay. I will ask her. I can do nothing more than that.”
“I am sure you can guarantee it to me. You underestimate your powers of persuasion.”
“I promise to ask her. I really cannot speak for her and I will not force her to do anything. She has a mind of her own, after all.”
“Well, okay. It is good enough as long as you ask her.”
“Great,” Rotor started to walk away.
“Except I would never know especially if she declines.”
“It is like I say; I cannot force her to do anything, Jusdan.”
“I’ll bet you can. You are crafty. She might never even know that you were nudging her along.”
“I suppose so. I mean I don’t know how ‘crafty’ I am. I have already promised though. I will live up to my end of the bargain.”
“I just want her to acknowledge that I exist.”
“She knows that already.”
“How can you be so certain, Rotor. I cannot.”
“I know her. She is kind and sincere.”
Jusdan smiled. “To you.”
“To everyone.”
“She has not said a word to me or even smiled in passing.”
“She treats everyone the same.”
“Only she treats you differently.”
“We grew up together. There had hardly been a c’eun that I haven’t seen her or spent most of my time with her."
“You are a lucky Wolf,” Jusdan sighed.
“I suppose that I am."
“I will expect respect from her then. If not I have secrets that may not be secrets any longer.”
“I will respect you,” Rotor said.
“Well, it is not the same.”
“You deserve respect and should demand it,” Rotor said.
“I am really not that way. In fact if Ela’na never spoke to me, I would revere her all the same.”
“Then what is it you want from me?” Rotor asked.
“Same as I want from Ela’na, I guess. I want respect.”
“You have that already. You are older than I am.”
“It is Ela’na’s respect that I seek.”
“Fine,” Rotor said with a little guarded frustration. “I will have a talk with her. It may be a few c’eun before it comes up. I may not see her again for a while. I will discuss it with her, though. I promise.”
“I trust you Rotor,” Jusdan said. “I hope you trust me. We can be friends and that is all I really want. I want to be friends with Ela’na and you. I know you will be important soon, both of you will. I will never say anything about your little secret tonight.”
“Never?”
“Never!”
“As long as I do what you want me to.”
“It is not like that. As I say, we can all be friends. Friends would not do that to one another.”
Rotor started to walk away again, fully expecting Jusdan to say something else but as silence reigned he suspected that everything that need be had been said.
Rotor hurried along hoping that Jusdan would not call out to him and he did not. He reached the foothills and quickly scurried up the incline through the village and past the fields of Fodder material and the livestock pens where the herds of kuella and orcrises were kept.
To the north of the cavern and around and on up to the thresholds, Rotor approached the hub of the Wolf Pack. The light of two nearly full moons illuminated the clearing as he created a hill and looked down on the Pack’s outdoor commons, the area intended for some of the meetings both formal and informal and of course celebrations for the entire Pack.
It was a larger area for meetings than either the commons at the base inside of the cavern which were used for public and private Council meetings and the clearing in the edge of Dammerwald which was used for more formal and ritualistic functions that almost always involved The Wolfcat. The commons were intended for the ordinary Wolves, the tenders of the Fodder, the keepers of the shops in the town and village, the Laborer Wolves that constructed buildings using the implements and the lore that Magus had provided that made such things a reality but only through the sweat and effort of many Wolves.
There were several younger Wolves that were in training for the guard posted atop the hills and along the ridge that overlooked the town that was nestled between them. It was good training as the post of a guard can be incredibly boring. Guarding the inner sanctum of the Pack, though important served only to reinforce the front line of defense. So the younger guards were training to be elevated in rank with time and experience. As the perimeter was always guarded by the best wolves, any force that penetrated the perimeter would mean that all the Pack would be engaged in a battle anyway. Rotor knew this already. It was logical, of course and in time he might have even arrived at that same conclusion on his own had Ronin not already explained it to him.
There were several guards assigned to protect the central square of the town where several of the Artisan Wolves were carving a monument in honor of Old Tull from the granite taken from the boulder field to the north of the cavern. The smells of exotic herbal potions and strange preparations for the left over food from the previous c’eun’s hunt wafted toward his very sensitive nose, causing him to salivate for want of just a sample. Minstrel Wolves howled to the sounds that their instruments made, creating a rhythm that spoke to his soul in harmony with the beat of Rotor’s heart.
Two Wolves, Sly and Slow hailed his approach almost simultaneously from a rise to either side of the ridge. He crossed over onto the shelf of stone that jutted out from the threshold into the cavern, below that to either side were the commons.
Sly was the younger brother of Trip and was one of Jade’s distant cousins. Slow was the first born of Flynt and Fling. Flint was a very good friend of Ronin and Fling was Ronin’s second cousin. In fact Ronin had introduced them. Rotor was related to Slow even though they barely ever spoke.
Rotor had always been steered toward becoming a hunter. Even though he had done very well in the required fundamental training for other disciplines for becoming a full-fledged Wolf, it was his remarkable sense of smell that demanded guidance in the art of the tracking prey and making the kill. His was a rare gift that could never be ignored. His gifts were of vital necessity for the survival of the entire Pack.
Ronin was sitting outside the entrance to the caverns. Rotor did not need his Wolfcat attributes to sense the displeasure his father was expressing in many other, non-verbal ways.
“You’re home,” Rotor attempted to warm the chill of his father’s glare.
“How could I go out on the hunt when my son is missing?”
“I was not missing, merely tardy.”
“That is how you answer your father’s concern? I have been waiting all this time, not knowing where you are and worried sick. It is not like you to go off unannounced. I had to ask someone else is filling in for me tonight on the hunt.”
“Dad, I am sorry.”
“Do you think that answers it?”
“It is all that I can say,” Rotor met his father’s eyes, and saw the rage in them but also the love that remained behind the anger and disappointment. “I never thought you would worry. I’m nearly a full-fledged Wolf, anyway.”
“You are not yet. You are my responsibility totally. You have no mother.”
“I’m sorry for that too, dad. I know you loved her. I wish I could bring her back for you… I wish I had even known her.”
“It was nothing that you did, Rotor.”
“She died that I might live.”
“She was fine with that,” Ronin said.
“You were not.”
“I agreed to it.”
“Agreeing and accepting is different isn’t it?”
Ronin pursed his lip, and then looked away. Already talking to his son was almost like talking to an adult. Rotor was too advanced for his age. He had seen the signs all along. That was his real concern. He had to broach the subject of his real concern. After all, Tharr was absent from the hunt as well.
“You were with Ela’na?”
“Had I been with Ela’na wouldn’t I have returned with her?”
Ronin cocked his head. Already Rotor had learned how to divert away from the point without lying. Where had he learned that? “That was not the answer I needed for what I asked,” and then Ronin reiterated, “Were you with Ela’na.”
“Earlier I was with her and the other Wolfcats. We were playing hunter and hunted.”
“I thought you were going for a swim.”
“Long story,” Rotor attempted to sidestep the issue.
“Well, now that I missed the hunt I have all night to listen to your version of reality.”
Rotor lowered his eyes. He could not endure his father’s probing stare. “What do you mean by that? Do you think I am lying to you?”
“It means what it means. I am a hunter. I need to be with the hunt, especially since Tharr is also absent. If any want for lack of food, it is my fault. I was not there. Do you even begin to understand that?”
“I understand what it means to be a hunter, father.”
“Then why would you do something like this? I cannot begin to understand. It had better have been important.”
“I wanted to be like you,” Rotor could not even believe that he had played that card so early in the discussion.
“How is this anything like what I would do?”
“I went out on my own. You will not let me go with the hunters so I have to do it on my own.”
Ronin shook his head, “No, no you are not going to divert me, son. Somehow in your mind you think this is my fault now and it is not. You are at fault.”
“I said I am sorry.”
“I said that doesn’t work.”
Rotor shrugged, “Well it is all I can say.”
“You expect me to believe you were late because you went out to hunt?”
“Yes.”
Ronin stared at him until Rotor looked up for see what the silence between them was all about. “What?”
“What?” Ronin stood up on his hind legs, “You really do not want to ever say that to me in that tone!”
Rotor sat back on his haunches, “I did not mean it the way it sounded.”
“You were out in the darkness, alone, hunting?”
“Yes.”
“There is no one was with you?”
This was his father’s second challenge to his story. He dare not reveal the truth. It was a promise that was more important than the blood that he shared with his own father. He had never lied before, not to his father, anyway. He had never thought it would ever be necessary to ever deceive him…until now.
“I returned alone,” Rotor answered.
“That is not what I asked.”
“Father, I am home. I came back. I apologize for your having worried and having had to excuse yourself from the hunt. I wish I could go back in time and tell you not to worry. I can’t. I just wish you would accept my apology as it is sincere. If the kill is insufficient I will stand with the adults and not eat at all. I am more so an adult anyway. That way a pup may feed.”
Ronin turned his head to one side, then after a few moments he grinned slightly. “You have promised something to another, and never to tell. You forget that I am also a Wolfcat.”
“Father, trust me, please. You have always trusted me before. I have never disappointed you.”
“Until now.”
“Was there never a time that you did not disappoint grandfather?”
Ronin thought of telling Rotor that there was never a time but he could think of three times that were better left unmentioned.
“Well?”
“I was not perfect,” Ronin admitted.
Rotor smiled, “This is one time you just forgive me then. There will not be another.”
“Don’t promise that as you might disappoint me again,” Ronin said.
Rotor spoke with eyes widened. “If I ever do, it is unintended.”
“Just as now.”
Rotor lowered his head.
“I am not a fool, Rotor. I know what the likely scenario between you and Ela’na is.”
“Ela’na was not even there all the time.”
“When was the separation, when you had to sneak back home?”
Rotor was silent.
Ronin laughed. “Well tomorrow you go into the hunter training full and without interruption. That is what you want. I have spoken to Old Tull already, actually a few c’eun ago. He thinks the world of you. He will support whatever I decide for you.”
“I have no say?”
“Do you want to be a hunter?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will see to it that you train with the best hunter in the Pack.”
“Who is he?”
Ronin laughed, “You have a lot to learn about the Wolves. The best hunters in all the Pack are always the females, Rotor. It is always that way. Males are always second best. We think that we have more important things to do and are easily distracted.”
“I doubt that,” Rotor countered.
“Rotor never let arrogance blind you. I have made that mistake and been punished for it many times over.”
“How could a female ever be as effective in the hunt as a male?”
“A female with hungry pups to feed is something that anything living would never want to confront,” Ronin said. “As a hunter I live in fear of the pups that are weaned but more so their mothers if I fail to produce.”
“Why would you fear a female? Are you not stronger?”
“Rotor, one day you may learn the power that a female has over a male. If Ela’na has not already taught you, soon enough you will understand.”
Rotor looked away.
“You would die defending her?"
“Of course,” Rotor admitted.
“Then you have begun to know.” Ronin chuckled. “You know there was a time when I was that way about Mentha. I mean she is still beautiful but when I was young and in her presence I could not take my eyes off of her. I have defended her every single c’eun of my adult life and yet I barely know her or Old Tull for that matter. We talk when there is an issue that is all.”
“Mentha knows you,” Rotor spoke from personal experience, “When I met her she said, ‘Oh you are Ronin’s son.'’’
“She never gave me a notice otherwise.”
Suddenly Rotor understood what Ronin was saying. “You had desires for her that were unfulfilled?”
“Not unfulfilled, unacknowledged. I understand though. Who am I but a mere hunter Wolf? She is The Wolfcat and a good deal older. Besides I could never tell even my best friend.”
“Tharr was also in love with Mentha.”
“Yes, and she acknowledged him. He was always the better hunter of the two of us. I have no problem with that as I was second best and sometimes I was better even than he was. Competition is healthy.”
“You are the best there is,” Rotor spoke proudly. “And we are of a noble lineage as well. Our ancestor Hunter was Alpha Male and the best hunter ever.”
“Well until you start to hunt.” Ronin confessed his suspicion.
Rotor stared at his father, in near disbelief. “You, you think I am better than you, better than Tharr too? You think I am as good as Hunter?”
“There has never been a hunter like him, Rotor. I think you have it in you. It is not that you are better than me. I could still out-hunt you but that is an experience thing alone. Your instinct will propel you forward. I am in awe of the abilities you possess that I have already seen. I cannot imagine what you may be able to do when you are more mature, when you are even my age. It is all the more reason for me to be concerned. You are not a normal Wolf. You are even beyond what would be expected of a Wolfcat. I have always been strict with you. That is why.”
“I have always respected you, dad. Even if I didn’t agree with you it generally proved out that you were right. I have learned to trust your advice.”
“Yet you will still not explain where you were this evening.”
“No.”
“No as in I have not asked the question in the right way or ‘no’ as in ‘never’?”
“No as in I have no desire to compromise my integrity.”
Ronin stared at Rotor’s eyes but Rotor could not endure it. “You did it?”
Rotor stood up and began to walk into the Cavern.
“Answer me.”
“I tried,” Rotor said.
“You tried?”
Rotor nodded. It was not a lie so much as not the complete truth still his father accepted it gladly. For him to have tried was understandable. Who could blame him for his desire? If she had spurned his advances, then it was something that might seem more honorable to adults.
Rotor felt guilty but he had no other choice. Ela’na mattered to him more than anything, even the love and respect that he felt for his father.
