Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold

by Regina Doman

  He focused in on what the woman was saying, and by the time he had gotten a sense of where she lived, the car had moved on.

  “High school duty this afternoon,” Father Bernard said, closing the door after they had said their farewells. “Let’s go start Midday Prayer first.”

  After praying Midday Prayer, the friars who were in the friary gathered for lunch. Leon noticed that there wasn’t much for lunch, just bean stew. And not much of it.

  “We’re almost out,” Brother George said, scraping the last of the pan. “I think this was supposed to be dinner, too.”

  “God will provide for His poor,” Father Bernard said easily. “Someone might send a food donation soon. And we can always fast.”

  After lunch, Leon helped Brother Herman gather cleaning supplies and mops and started over to the high school to continue the massive project of cleaning the abandoned building. To Leon’s surprise, Nora emerged from the vestibule suddenly, wearing jeans and an oversized red shirt.

  “Hey, there you are!” he exclaimed. “How’d your errand go?”

  She seemed surprised at the question, and dropped her eyes. “As well as I could expect,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get so far with the vestibule. Can I help you now?”

  “Certainly. Follow the train,” Brother Herman said, starting down the narrow hallway. “We’re working in the high school today.”

  Leon gestured for Nora to go ahead of him. “You had lunch?” he queried as they walked down the aisle of the church.

  “I’m fine. I had Danish and toast for breakfast in my room and I just had the rest for lunch,” she said. “Father Francis sent them down to me last night.”

  “Day-old bread and pastries. We usually get tons of them from the bakeries,” Brother Leon agreed. “Pretty much a staple around here. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, a bit distantly.

  “You look fine,” he said, not believing her.

  She glanced over at him. “I feel alone,” she said flatly.

  “Ah,” Brother Leon said. “Well, give yourself a reality check. You’re not alone.”

  That seemed to get through to her, and she said quietly, “I suppose you’re right.”

  They followed Brother Herman out the back door of the sacristy, and walked down some steps into the courtyard linking the church, friary, and high school. Brother Herman unlocked the door to the high school.

  “You said this was a new order?” Nora queried.

  “We’re part of a reform movement of the Franciscans,” Leon explained. “I was in one of the established Franciscan orders before, as a novice. But when I heard about Father Francis and Father Bernard starting this new order, I left to join this one.”

  Brother Herman pulled open the creaking metal door, then stepped aside to let Leon, Matt, and Nora through. “We’re cleaning out the classrooms so we can partition them into bedrooms. Let’s start on the top floor and work our way down. That way, hopefully we’ll be in the lower, cooler halls by the time it starts to really get hot.”

  “It’s hot already,” Matt pointed out.

  The high school buildings had four stories, and just about all of them were in poor condition after a year of disuse. After they had trooped upstairs, Brother Herman looked around while Leon and Matt opened the windows to get some air circulating throughout the rooms. “Okay, I guess the first thing to do is get all the furniture into the hallways and stack it up. Then we’ll mop.”

  For the next half hour, they worked at pushing all the school desks into the hallway and stacking them in piles. Soon Brother Charley came up to help them, setting the metal desks carefully into piles that towered up in the hallway. “Careful not to knock any of these over,” he warned.

  “Excellent!” Brother Herman said, wiping his brow as they finished clearing the room. “Now for cleaning the bathrooms.”

  The group moved into the third floor girls’ bathrooms to start. Charley took the broom and started sweeping, and Matt and Leon took the mops. “What should I do?” Nora asked.

  Brother Herman gave her a bottle of window cleaner and a rag. “How about you do the sills and panes? I’ll do the radiators.”

  Leon was bursting with curiosity about where Nora had been and what had brought her here in the first place. Since Nora was looking pensive, he decided to try to draw her out of herself. She’s got to talk about what’s bothering her, he thought.

  “So Nora, what do you think of our new order so far?” Leon asked, as he started on a tough spot on the gray and brown tiled floor.

  “Well, I’ll say one thing. You certainly are—different from what I thought friars would be like,” she said, with a trace of a smile.

  Brother Leon immediately put an enraptured look on his face and began to chant in Latin. Brother Herman didn’t miss a beat and joined in.

  Matt made a face. “Hasn’t anyone told you Franciscans can’t sing?” he groaned. “Don’t even try.”

  Leon turned the chant into a rap beat and began to cut loose with the mop until Nora laughed, which was what he wanted. “You just haven’t been around very many religious, that’s all,” he told her.

  “Well,” Nora said, wiping off her window, “I certainly didn’t expect you to take me in. It’s very generous of you to let me stay here.”

  “Well, we needed someone to test-drive our hospitality rooms to make sure they’re shipshape,” Leon said flippantly. “So we need you to tell us, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the vestibule storage room compared with the bedrooms in the basement in terms of comfort level? Otherwise the homeless and our volunteers will be sneaking around in the middle of the night to find our storage rooms. It could be a problem, you know.”

  She almost smiled, and said, considering, “Actually, they were both pretty comfortable.”

  “Glad to hear that. We’ll send the data to our marketing department,” Brother Herman said solemnly.

  Leon had been hoping to follow up with a question about how she had come to their house in the first place, but Nora cut him off at the pass.

  “Can I ask you something?” She stared down at the gray water dotted by white bubbles in Leon’s bucket.

  “Shoot,” Brother Herman said easily, squirting another section of vent.

  “Does it bother you if I don’t tell you much about myself?”

  She knew what I was about to ask, Leon thought. He glanced at Brother Herman.

  “Sure it’s all right,” the older friar assured her. “Just tell us if you need any help.”

  “Thanks. I’d like to tell you more, but—I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I guess if you knew the circumstances, I keep thinking you might feel differently—” she pushed back a strand of ragged hair with the back of her hand. “It’s a very odd situation.” Leon noticed her hand was trembling.

  “We don’t have to know everything about your situation. If you want to tell us—if you feel it would help you—that’s fine. But don’t put yourself under pressure,” Brother Herman said.

  “Thanks,” she said, wiping away something from her face, maybe just a bit of over-spray from the window cleaner.

  III

  The day of his transformation, there had been policemen at his high school….

  …Arthur caught a glimpse of an officer in the principal’s office as he passed, and a thin current of nervousness passed through him. He wondered why he should be nervous.

  He was opening his personal locker when his backpack toppled out onto the floor, and smoothly, a plastic packet slid out of it. A white plastic packet. Frowning, he dropped to his knees to examine it. It was a clear plastic zip lock bag, with what looked like Styrofoam balls inside. Except they were heavy.

  Picking it up, he stared at it, trying to remember if he had put it there, or what type of joke this could be. It was then that he noticed the feet of the policeman standing over him.

  As they walked into the principal’s office, he saw his fifteen-year-old younger broth
er Ben, who was fuming. “I’ve never seen this before in my life!” Ben snapped at the officer, tossing a bag on the table as Arthur came in. “This is ridiculous! Someone’s set me up!”

  “Like who? Who would put it in your desk?”

  “I don’t know—one of the other kids, I suppose.” Ben rubbed the acne on his face and shook his head vigorously. “All I know is, it’s not mine.”

  “Do you know anyone else who uses crack?”

  “No. Not anyone that I know of. This is ludicrous. I’ve never even seen crack before. The officer who dragged me in here had to tell me what it was.”

  “You claim that you don’t even recognize the substance in the packet?”

  “It could be sugar balls for all I know. Do I sound like a user? Can I call my father’s lawyer?”

  The officer paused as his partner led Arthur into the principal’s office.

  “What’s going on?” Arthur asked.

  Ben rolled his eyes and glared at the officer. “What a mess,” he murmured.

  “Hold a minute while I take your brother into the other room,” the officer said, putting a heavy hand on Ben’s shoulder. Ben obeyed, although Arthur could see he was still steaming.

  “Sit down,” the officer said. He tossed the plastic packet on the desk in front of Arthur. “I’m going to inform you of your rights, and then perhaps you could tell me what’s going on here.”

  Arthur stared at the pure white crystals. “I have no idea.”

  * * *

  “Boy, this stinks,” Fish murmured.

  Bear was inclined to agree. They sat in the waiting area of the district courtroom, awaiting the magistrate who was going to hear the complaint against them. After that, they had been told that they would be sent to the jail for the next three days until the court decided whether or not to post bail. Bear was still trying to adjust to the idea that he couldn’t just get up and walk out to Blanche’s house to find her. He was under arrest.

  “I knew something was eating Ahmed,” Fish said softly, shifting position on the hard bench. “That’s what was going on. The manager told him to look out for us. Poor guy.”

  “Just doing his job,” Bear said. He looked at the agents who were flanking them. “Can’t we have the cell phone back to make one phone call?”

  The man shook his head gruffly.

  “I thought we were allowed one phone call,” Fish said pointedly.

  “The timing of your one phone call is at the discretion of the Agency,” the man said. “The magistrate will call you at any minute. When they bring you to the jail tonight, you’ll be able to make as many phone calls as you please.”

  Bear persisted. “It’s an emergency. It could very well have some bearing on our case. Can’t you speak to someone—?”

  The agent glared at him. “The timing of your phone call is at the discretion of the Agency,” he repeated warningly.

  “Calm down,” Fish whispered to Bear, who was still bristling. “They’ve been about as friendly as we can expect.”

  “Friendly?”

  “Well, at least they didn’t handcuff us like they did last time,” Fish said cheerfully.

  “I guess we can be glad about that,” Bear admitted. Even though the memory was five years old, it still made him wince.

  * * *

  Five years ago, he had become an outcast. Abruptly, with no forewarning. In his school sweater, uniform shirt and skewed tie, he struggled into the police car with difficulty because his hands were pinned behind his back and thought, They’ve got to realize we didn’t do this. We’re innocent. They’ll find fingerprints on our lockers that will show who really planted the drugs. They can’t really believe we’re drug dealers…

  He knew that almost everyone in the high school was looking on, and the humiliation was excruciating. As his grim-faced younger brother was pushed into the car beside him, he was trying to be optimistic. Dad won’t let them do this to us. Even if he doesn’t care much about us, at least he’ll be concerned about the family reputation, and he’ll find out the truth. He’s got to know we wouldn’t do this.

  But his father had not listened to their explanations, and had refused to believe them. A coldness and fear had started to grow in him then, a realization that they were in serious danger and that no one of influence was going to be putting themselves to the trouble of finding out the truth of the situation…

  * * *

  “One thing is different now,” Bear said to himself, and realized he had spoken aloud.

  “What did you say?” Fish asked.

  “Our dad disinherited us last time, but he gave us back our money from Mom’s estate when we cleared our names. This time, we can pay our own bail.”

  “Yeah. Great. At least you’re not paying for tuition like I am,” Fish muttered. “You think they’ll let us out on bail?”

  “They will. They’ve got to,” Bear said. “We have to find Blanche. I’m sure her disappearance has something to do with this mess.”

  Fish drummed his fingers on his knee. “No juvenile record this time. If we get convicted on this charge, we’ll be living with the record for the rest of our lives. Let’s call Charles Russell first. The sooner we talk to our lawyer, the happier I’ll be.”

  “I wanted to call Mrs. Foster and ask her to go over to the Briers’ house for us,” Bear said.

  “Not a bad idea,” Fish said. He looked up as a brown-haired man holding a briefcase approached them. It was the same agent who had arrested them, Mr. Tang.

  “While we’re waiting, I’d like to present you with a few facts and in return, I’d like to ask you a few questions,” the man said, sitting down and taking out a file folder.

  “You can tell us whatever you like, but we’re not going to answer any questions without our lawyer here,” Fish said pleasantly.

  As though he hadn’t heard them, Mr. Tang took out a piece of paper. “The manager of your apartment building found the drugs hidden under the sofa cushions on Friday, and called the authorities. We obtained a search warrant, and when we searched the apartment, we found the drugs just as he described them. Do you have any idea of how the drugs got there?”

  “Hold on—why was the manager of the building searching our place to begin with?” Fish demanded. “We’re owners, not renters. Looking over the apartment while the owners are away for several weeks is one thing—but going through the cracks in the sofa? Come on! What possessed him to do that?”

  “He told us he had an anonymous call,” Mr. Tang said. “And he figured he’d take a look for himself.”

  “An anonymous call?” Bear repeated. “What sort of justification is that?”

  The agent nodded. “I’m merely repeating what he told us. Can I ask you to verify your statement here that you’ve never seen these drugs before?”

  “Again, we’re not going to say anything without our lawyer,” Bear said flatly.

  “Can you verify that neither of you have been in the apartment for the past week?”

  “No comment,” Fish said. “Sorry, not until we talk with Charles.”

  Mr. Tang, nonplussed, turned over another piece of paper. “According to the anonymous call the manager got, the drugs were being delivered to your apartment by a courier who had been making several deposits over the course of the past week. Do you have any knowledge of such a person?”

  “Again, how is the manager justified in making all these accusations based on anonymous information?” Fish persisted.

  “We have been working with the security of your building to try to determine who has had access to your apartment over these past weeks, and they have identified a suspicious person, not a resident, who made several trips to your apartment over the past week. As it turns out, this person is a suspect in the embezzlement of several thousand dollars from a Long Island restaurant.”

  He removed a photograph from his folder and passed it over to the brothers. “Do you recognize her?”

  It was a black-and-white image captured from
their apartment building’s security camera by the elevator. The girl was turning, looking past her backpack over her shoulder as though she sensed someone behind her and was afraid. Her black hair and pale skin were all too familiar. Blanche.

  Chapter Five

  Tuesday morning. She pulled apart the plastic knot on a garbage bag with relief and dumped its contents on the floor. In the stuffy little room, the clothes smelled musty, and it was hot, but she didn’t mind. Working in the banquet hall this summer, she had been hot many times in the winding back corridors, and had gotten used to it, sweating and working. And folding clothes was like sorting out silverware, folding napkins—repetitious work.

  And despite her problem, it was good to be alone and working, instead of talking to others, and trying to pretend that everything was normal inside her. Solitude had usually been a comfort to her—

  If I could only figure this out—what this all means—

  Breathing deeply, she emptied out a garbage bag of assorted clothes onto the floor and began to sort through them. Creating order out of chaos. It felt therapeutic, giving her hope that the chaos of this summer would start to sort itself out.

  * * *

  It began oddly, with a nagging sense of vulnerability. The girl had heard of people having dreams in which they forgot to get dressed, and walked down the street in pajamas. She had never had that dream, but she began to feel as though something like it had meshed with her reality, and that wherever she went, she was unconsciously calling attention to herself. Telling the world that she was unprepared. And exposed.

  After Bear had left, things that should have worked for her suddenly didn’t. An instructor at her community college had practically promised her an internship at a nursing home, but at the last minute it had fallen through. She had searched for other work, but she couldn’t find any. Her younger sister, in her usual good luck, landed a fun job working at a community theatre, and ended up starring in one of their plays. Rose loyally had tried to find her older sister a job there, selling tickets or painting scenery, but it hadn’t worked out.

  “Why don’t you look for a waitress job—or catering?” her mother suggested. “What about Reflections?”