Dusssie

by Nancy Springer

  I waited around the corner to give my mother a little time alone with my father.

  And to give me a little time alone with me. Dusie.

  Deep in my belly I felt cramps crawling as if I might give birth to something.

  I stared up at the sparkling dark sky.

  Then Mom walked up to me, turban covering her head, her face as peaceful as moonlight.

  I felt myself smile, looking at her. “Do you come here a lot?”

  “Almost every day.”

  I nodded, then pointed up at the silver crescent of new moon in the sky. “Is that the maiden moon?”

  She looked, and gasped. “I forgot!” she exclaimed. “The Sisterhood!”

  TWELVE

  By the time we got back to Central Park, the Sisterhood had already assembled. I heard a murmur of voices as Mom and I strode down the winding footpath, then silence when, I guess, they noticed our footsteps approaching. Stepping into the hollow between the three giant boulders, I looked around, blinking in the dim light—but these beings gave off their own luster. The Sphinx lay on her crag as before, her topaz eyes gleaming down at me, her great lion paws flexing so that the hooked claws slid in and out. A Lamia spread her dragon wings on top of another boulder, and on the third one—it had to be Siren, the one I hadn’t met before, with a delicate angel face atop huge condor wings. On all of them glimmered a sheen more than just moonlight. Magic.

  I knew I needed to be there, yet I started to sweat.

  Then I saw others. Aunt Stheno stood beside my mom. Birdwomen—fates, furies, harpies?—perched all around, on rocks and trees and a few of them on the ground, too close to me. Nemesis, the one with ostrich feet, smiled at me as if she might eat me. I wanted to run. My heart hammered. I couldn’t think.

  Let usss sssee, Dusssie? whispered a garter snake.

  I pulled my hat off, holding it in both hands as if I were hanging onto it for support, and it helped me think of something to say. Facing the lion woman with glittering wise eyes, I told her only a little shakily, “Thank you for the hats, Sphinx.”

  Deep in her silky throat she gave a growl—no, she chuckled. A murmur of surprise went around the Sisterhood. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my mother standing next to me, looking at me, wide-eyed. But my snakes, like me, had known for a while. I mean, it had to have been somebody who knew, somebody in the Sisterhood, and who else could read me like the Sphinx? Also, the Sphinx had connections on Broadway, with costume makers. So no big deal.

  In her honey-dark voice the Sphinx told me, “Good for you, young Gorgon. But have you yet found the answer to my riddle?”

  She’ss ssso inssscrutible, murmured the smooth green snake, my storyteller.

  And ssso golden, added a pine woods snake enviously.

  “I—I’m not sure.” Actually, since Cy had given me the green goo, I had forgotten about the Sphinx and her riddle. “You mean about getting rid of my snakes?”

  “Assuredly, yes.”

  “Well, um, a lot has happened.” Now that I had managed to start talking, I blundered on, because I felt like I ought to clear up some things with her and the Sisterhood. I mean, I’d sworn to them I was going to get rid of my snakes. “I’ve met a nice old man, a scientist, and he …” I felt my mother staring at me, which made it hard to concentrate, but I kept going. “He thinks it’ll be okay if the snakes aren’t cut off but just die on their own. And he’s come up with a, um, a metabolism inhibitor medicine. If I put it on them, he believes they’ll starve and die.”

  Several members of the Sisterhood gasped as if they had won the lottery. And my mother cried, “Dusie, how wonderful!”

  Looking at the Sphinx was not easy, but at this point I found it better than looking at my mother. I kept talking as if I hadn’t heard Mom. “But I’ve decided not to do it,” I said.

  “What?” My mother was not the only one who exclaimed.

  “I don’t want to kill them.” My voice shook, but I had to say this. It was the answer I had found in my father’s eyes. It was the only way that felt right. And it was the only way that was me. Dusie.

  Dusssie, whispered all my snakes in a chorus that smelled like dew, glowed like sunrise. Our Dusssie.

  “But why not?” Mom cried.

  I said, “I love them.”

  Moon-white blank silence met me. Not one of those immortals said a word or made a sound, not even a sigh. I could hear only some nighttime traffic noises, bare tree branches scraping in the breeze, and the inside of my own mind, where my snakes were whispering my name over and over again, all rainbow colors. Dusssie. Dusssie!

  The scarlet king snake told me, We knew we could trusst you.

  “You love them,” the Sphinx said with no more emotion than the sound of a pebble dropping into a wishing well.

  I knew I had to try to explain. “Not like pets,” I started, remembering what Cy had said. “They’re more than pets. They’re my friends … no, they’re closer than friends.” They were even closer than family, although I didn’t say that with Mom and Aunt Stheno standing there. “They’re with me all the time. They make me be myself, not just what other people want me to be. They’re part of me.” What was it the scarlet king snake had said? “They’re my thoughts. They’re who I am. They’re strong, so I’m strong, too, and I never knew I could be strong. And I never knew I could enjoy myself by myself. I never knew I could tell stories …” My voice kept gathering strength, because I was getting mad. Frustrated, really. All these freak women, they were so silent, and, like, how the heck was I supposed to explain love?

  I took a step toward the Sphinx. “They’re me but they’re themselves, too. They’re individuals. Look. This one is bossy, but she gives really good advice.” I lifted a hand to my forehead, and the snake rested part of her belly in my palm. “This is my scarlet king snake—”

  All of a sudden I felt like she needed a name. I mean, I was introducing her to the Sphinx.

  But it had to be the right name for such a regal serpent.

  I said, “This is my scarlet king snake, Regina.”

  There was a soft explosion of snake thought inside my mind, a joyful hissy seething, like a fountain bursting out of stone. And as the echo of her name still hung on the night air, my scarlet king snake, Regina, slipped across my hand and spiraled down my arm to rest her neck in my other hand. Flicking her golden forked tongue, she looked at me with her unblinking eyes.

  I gawked at her. Regina, my queenly king snake. Red-black-yellow-black all the way down her four-foot-long body. Regina, the entire Regina, including tail, the works. All of her.

  Dusssie, she thought to me, and even though she was a whole snake now, not a part of my head anymore, I could still hear her. Dusssie, you have completed me.

  I stood, stunned.

  Dusssie, she begged me, the othersss. Ssset them free.

  I stood there like a major idiot, holding Regina, for at least a minute before I started to get it. Then I looked at the Sphinx, and I managed to say, “To lose, I must win, and to win, I must loosen …”

  The Sphinx didn’t say a thing.

  Regina told me, You’ve won our heartsss.

  Oh. Oh, and they’d won mine too, but I knew I had to let them go. For their sakes. So that they could slip through the grass of Central Park and bask on the rocks and eat mice and minnows and find mates. I had to.

  I swallowed hard, and bent to set Regina down on the ground, then lifted my hand to my head again. The first snake I touched happened to be one of my favorites, one of the corn snakes. It was easy to find the right name for him. “This is Sunshine,” I said.

  Again there was that soft explosion within my mind, like liquid fireworks. Then Sunshine, too, slipped across my hand and down my arm. Dusssie, he said as he left me, Dusssie, thank you. I love you.

  I closed my eyes against tears and kept going. Sometimes I had to wait a minute for the name, because it had to be right, not just any name but the good and proper name for each snake. But the names kept
coming to me like they were given by somebody smarter than me. Maybe the Sphinx was helping me. Or maybe I really was smart and just never knew it before. Whatever it was, the best names just kept coming to me. Like, for my smooth green snake: Scheherazade, after the storyteller in the Arabian nights. For the black racers, because they were so quick and bold: Zorro, Ebony Saber, Pirate. For the yellow-bellied racer: Lionel, because he was like a cowardly lion. For the bright-colored milk snake: Broadway.

  “Snakes run without legs and swim without fins. Like spirits.” Hearing in my mind that I wanted her next, the indigo snake met my hand. “This is my indigo snake, Spirit.”

  Ssspirit thanksss you, Dusssie. She slipped off my head, down my back, and away into the night.

  “Snakes are wise,” I murmured, wondering whether I would ever be as wise. I found a queen snake with my hand. “May I introduce—Solomon.”

  He darted down my arm and disappeared into the darkness.

  I gave more wisdom names: Archimedes, Sibyl. Then I gave jewel names, for the jewel of wisdom they carried invisibly between their eyes. The blue racers, Lapis and Turquoise. The pine woods snake, Topaz. The two rough green snakes, Emerald Secret and Emerald Mystery.

  The king snakes, because they were so strong, I named Hero and Gladiator. I didn’t know how I was going to be strong without them, but I knew I had to try.

  The little garter snakes I called Ripple, Streamline, Ribbon—I can’t remember all the names. I gave more names, and more, and one by one my proud serpents arched their necks and left me. The very last one was a ribbon snake who had encircled my head like a crown. I unwound her with both hands. “Snakes do not hunt in packs. Snakes are often alone. May I introduce Solitaire,” I said, my voice starting to sound ragged. And I lifted her away from my head, a whole snake now. Warm and quick she slipped down and away.

  I stood there feeling kind of like a helium balloon. Weightless. Empty. Lightheaded.

  Gone. My snakes were all gone, all twenty-seven of them.

  I stood among my mother and many other women, yet I felt alone. Lonely.

  “I’ll miss you,” I called to the night. Hard to believe, but after a month of wishing I could get rid of them, I already did miss them.

  But from somewhere out there in the grass and rustling leaves, in the damp spring-scented night, responses floated to my mind.

  We misss you too!

  Come sssee usss Dusssie!

  Remember usss, Dusssie!

  Remember, jussst be yoursself!

  To win you mussst loossse, Dusssie!

  And the clearest voice, Regina’s, told me, Dusssie, remember thisss: to find love, give love.

  THIRTEEN

  Forget about sleeping that night.

  I kind of lost track of time, what with the Sisterhood congratulating me and asking questions and exclaiming over my hair—I had the most amazing hair now, thick serpentine curls rippling down my back and shoulders, kind of arranged in coils by color. Basically it was different shades of shiny brown, but long spirals of it were wavy amber gold or ebony black or garnet red or yellow like garter snake stripes. Anyway, they loved my hair, and they wanted to know all about the snake metabolism inhibitor and we talked and talked. It must have been way after midnight when Mom and I headed home.

  We treated ourselves to a taxi. Mom sat straight up in the backseat and—she wasn’t smiling, exactly, but joy glowed like moonlight in her face. We didn’t talk much, but I’ve never seen her look so happy.

  “I am so proud of you,” she said all of a sudden.

  “What for? I didn’t do anything.” I mean, I felt good about what had happened—my snakes were free now and so was I—but I hadn’t planned it that way, and my mind felt awfully quiet now that my twenty-seven best buddies were gone.

  “For being who you are,” Mom said. “One of a kind.”

  I opened my mouth to say that anybody could have done the same thing, but then I looked at her, still with snakes on her head after how many thousand years?

  “I couldn’t have done it,” Mom said as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. “I could never learn to love these vipers. They’re evil-tempered, venomous, hideous—”

  But her snakes should match who she was. I burst out, “You’re not like that!”

  “I was,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I was bitter, venomous, slug-ugly inside until your father loved me.”

  Oh.

  “And then I had you.” Mom gave me the most amazing look: yearning, quizzical, tragic, quirky … “And you changed me even more.”

  Oh. I just sat there hearing the taxi wheels swish down Greene Street. I couldn’t say a word, but I reached over and touched her hand.

  Next thing I remember, the taxi pulled up in front of our apartment building. Then I guess we got out, but I don’t exactly recall walking inside. I felt like I was floating, like all of me was filled with helium now, not just my head. Mom still had that moonlit look on her face. We kind of wafted through the empty lobby—

  “Dusie.”

  The low voice came from a corner behind the potted miniature apricot tree at the entrance. I whirled and stared. He took a couple of steps toward me, chin down as he tried to smile, looking embarrassed.

  And so beautiful. Especially the Band-Aid on his thumb and the zit on the side of his nose.

  And so not pissed at me. In his shy tarnished-silver eyes I saw understanding.

  And so not made of stone.

  “Troy!” I screamed. I ran to him and threw my arms around him, hugging him and hugging him. He felt just the way a human being ought to feel, warm and solid, not semi-petrified. He hugged me back, but not too hard. Kind of like he was half scared of me.

  My legs insisted on jumping, so I had to let go of him. “Troy,” I yelled, bouncing on the lobby floor like it was a trampoline, “what are you doing here?”

  “Um, last summer I found out where you lived,” he said. “In case I ever got up the nerve to ask you for a date or something.”

  “Huh?” He wasn’t making much sense. “No, I mean, you’re okay again! How—”

  “Oh. Yeah, that was pretty amazing.” His voice went hushed. “A couple of hours ago, you did it, right? Mother Serpent said to me, Young human hatchling, Medusa has triumphed. Shed your skin! Then she turned all colors like a sunrise and grew white-fire wings and flew away. I wanted to fly, too. I jumped out of that stupid bed and yanked all the tubes and stuff out of myself and it didn’t even hurt.” He lifted his arms and ran his hands down them like he was checking for blood or holes, or something, but there wasn’t a mark on him. “I felt so good I couldn’t stay in that place another—”

  Behind me a sunny old voice exclaimed, “Well, I never!”

  I spun around and there in the lobby stood Cy, broken arm and all, with a big smile taking over his pale skinny face.

  “Cy!” I hugged him.

  “Don’t knock me over! Well, I never in all my born days,” he said, patting my shoulder as he looked from me to Troy and back again. “Dusie, your snakes—I mean, your hair—don’t tell me the metabolism inhibitor—”

  I felt so good I started laughing. I didn’t even try to explain.

  “This would be Troy Lindquist?” I felt Cy peering over my shoulder at him. “I was listening to my radio and I heard a news bulletin about you, young man, that you’d gone missing from the hospital—”

  “Oh, crap,” Troy muttered.

  “And I kept trying to phone this young lady …” Cy patted my back. “She didn’t answer, so I got worried—”

  “I was hoping nobody would notice till morning,” Troy said. “The hospital, I mean. Now they probably freaked out my parents. I’d better call home.”

  “You can use our phone.” I started toward the elevator to lead the way to the apartment. “Come on, Cy, you come, too. Mom, gimme your key—Mom?”

  There she stood like she barely heard me. Almost like I’d managed to turn her into stone somehow. Stiff with terror, all the joy gon
e from her face.

  “Mom?” I stared at her. “Mom, what’s the matter?”

  But Troy understood right away, a lot quicker than I did. He said, “Mrs. Gorgon, it’s okay.” He touched her arm. Her eyes widened and shifted to look at him. He repeated, “It’s okay. I won’t ever tell anybody.”

  “Oh, Mom,” I complained as I began to understand. As I saw relief dawn in her eyes.

  Troy nodded. “I promise. I’ll just say I woke up in the hospital and I don’t remember how I got there. But actually …” Troy looked at me, his eyes like silver mirrors. “Actually I’ll never forget the day you visited, Dusie,” he said softly. “You told me it was gonna be okay, and I knew it would. And the Mother Serpent was with me the whole time …” He hesitated, his voice fumbling for words. “She had this jewel shining all colors between her eyes, and I saw, like, pictures in it. And she taught me things.”

  “Wisdom,” I whispered.

  “Or maybe craziness.” He grinned at me. “Anyway, I’m not about to let anybody know about you, or your mom, or your aunt, or any of them. The Sisterhood.” He gave my mother a long, quiet look. “I promise.”

  And friends of the Mother Serpent, I knew, kept their promises.

  “And you are absolutely not to worry about me, either.” Cy shook hands with Mom. “Mrs. Gorgon, I’m honored to meet you, and I’d be delighted to offer you a supply of my herpetological metabolism inhibitor if you’d care to try it.”

  Mom blinked at Cy like she couldn’t believe him. But then her Greek-statue face came back to life, and she smiled like a goddess hosting a dinner party. “You’re wonderful, both of you.” She glanced from Cy to Troy, her eyes shining like jewels. “Why are we standing in the lobby? Come on up to the apartment. I know a place that delivers the most wonderful Thai food.…”

  Troy shook his head. “I’d better go. We don’t want anybody to find me here.”