Union

by John Darryl Winston

  “Yeah, well, you got the bonus plan.”

  “What do you think about contact lenses?” She took off her glasses and looked at him.

  “I don’t, but your eyes are beautiful.”

  “Corny.” She laughed. “Soul’s been doing a good job keeping your secret?”

  Naz shrugged. “It’s a lot of pressure on him, but it makes us all closer. What’s in the bag … a surprise birthday present?” Naz reached in his back pocket and pulled out the envelope Harvis had given him.

  “No … you don’t like surprises.” She opened up the bag and pulled out two combs and a jar of olive oil.

  “Not that again.” Naz smiled.

  “You know you love it.” She kissed him back. “What’s in the envelope?”

  “Let’s find out. It’s from Harvis and Soul.”

  “That’s sweet.” She watched Naz tear the envelope open.

  It was two tickets. He gave them to D.

  She read, “Shakespeare in the Park: Richard III. Aw … your friends are special.”

  “They’re family.”

  “I see what you mean. I’m grateful to them. I owe you all my life.”

  “You don’t owe us anything.”

  D looked away and smiled. “So, will you play ball next year?”

  “No. And Fears isn’t too happy about it either, but he’ll get over it. Soul and the Wordsmith will play … maybe.”

  “So what will you do … with all that free time?”

  “Hmmm … I was thinking about becoming a newspaper reporter, you know … like Clark Kent.”

  D covered her mouth, laughing.

  “What,” Naz turned in his seat and looked at her. “You don’t think I can do it.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt you can do whatever you set your mind to, Igod Andersen, but are you serious?”

  “Maybe. You know a good photojournalist?”

  “I might know one.”

  They both laughed.

  THEY SAT ON the edge of the river for hours listening to music, watching the boats, talking about running away, and reciting Shakespeare until Naz’s phone buzzed.

  “It’s him.” Naz looked at D, and she squeezed his hand.

  They stood up and turned toward the tents.

  The festival was starting to pick up as live music sounded from the stages, screams called from the kiddie roller coaster, and couples walked hand in hand. Only one table and two chairs sat in the midst of the tents this evening. Naz and D walked over to it.

  “This is Delilah.” Naz bit the inside of his jaw.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Sir.” D put her hand out.

  The man stood and took her hand gently in both of his. He wore a tan, collarless button-up long sleeve shirt and matching flannel pants. His beard was only slightly tamer than the day he beat Naz almost two years ago, and Naz could’ve sworn he had on the same loafers. His cultivated locks fell loosely about his head like a well-pruned plant. He looked eerily like—the Chess Master. He bowed slightly. “Sir … was my father’s name. Please call me, Cory, Delilah.”

  “OK, Cory. I see where your son gets his good looks,” said D.

  “Thank you. Good looks …” Cory turned to Naz. “and good taste.” Cory smiled at D.

  “Thanks.” D blushed. “Well, I think I’ll leave you two alone.” She backed away.

  Naz quickly stepped to D and grabbed her hand. “Where you going?” he asked her quietly.

  “Back to the river.”

  “How long will you wait?”

  “Forever.” She smiled and walked away.

  He took a deep breath and turned back to Cory, who gestured for him to sit. There was a chess set on the table with pieces in place to start a game. They both sat down.

  “I didn’t come here to play chess.” Naz looked down.

  “Then why’d you come here?”

  “I don’t know.” Naz stood up.

  “Sit down.”

  “Look, I’ve been doing fine on my own.” Naz started to walk away. “I don’t really need—”

  “Sit … down.”

  Naz sat back down.

  “You’re right,” said Cory. “You’ve been doing fine, better than fine. You’re a man, and you don’t need me, but we’re all we’ve got—”

  “You don’t understand. I heard your voice every day for the last five years … in my dreams, in my head … in my imagination. I thought you were dead.” Naz’s voice trembled as he fought back tears. “Now I don’t know whether to be happy or mad.”

  “Be both … or be neither. Nothing I ever did was easy, but I have no regrets, and I’d do it all again, and some day you’ll say the same.”

  “What happened to you that day … three months ago? When I figured out you were the Chess Master, I came to see you.”

  “I know. I was there. I saw you from the limousine.”

  “You saw me?”

  Cory nodded.

  “And you let them take me away?”

  “It wasn’t the right time.”

  “The right time?” Naz’s eyes watered.

  “Do you remember?”

  “What?”

  “Do you remember?” Cory asked again.

  “I remember everything,” Naz yelled. Tears began to flow.

  “It is the only way to keep you safe,” Cory stood.

  “And we will be together again.” Naz stood up, tears streaming from his eyes.

  “And you will remember.”

  “When the time is right.”

  They embraced each other.

  “You had something to do I couldn’t help you with,” Cory said.

  “Can you help me now!?” Naz struggled to ask.

  “Anything,” said Cory, gesturing to the chair.

  They both sat back down. Naz used his hands to wipe his face. Cory was more skilled at hiding his emotions.

  “So now what?” asked Naz.

  “Whatever you want, Son.”

  “Son … that sounds funny.”

  “How about, Naz?”

  Naz shrugged.

  “The Nazarite … Samson, the strongest man in the Bible. Fitting. I bet your mother loved that.”

  “She knew you were alive.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why else would she be here all those times?” Naz looked around at all the tents, now bustling. “Who else knew?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.”

  “You want a list?”

  “Yeah … I wanna list,” Naz snapped.

  Cory laughed. “General Young and his nosey son and like you said, your mother.”

  “What about your friend … Mr. … Dr. Pauling?”

  “Friend?” Cory scoffed.

  “Yeah, friend. That’s how you found out I was coming to see you that day. He told you, right? So yeah, friend.”

  “You’ve seen his mind. What do you think?”

  “So what is he, your enemy?”

  “Friend … enemy … is there a difference?”

  “Harvis and Soul are my friends.”

  “For now. Once you study history and apply your own experiences, you’ll know them to be one and the same.”

  “Well, Dr. Pauling helped me get my memory back. He must be a friend.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You disagree?”

  “So do you. He only sped up the process for his own needs. Your memory would’ve come back on its own without any outside interference.”

  “Should I get revenge?”

  “On Pauling?” Cory laughed.

  “He sent the Apostles to test my powers and started all this mess. Maybe I should show him how well I passed the test.”

  “He knows you won’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re my son.”

  “It was you who told me to avenge my sister … your daughter.”

  “Did you?”

  Naz fiddled with one of the chess pieces.

>   “And since when did you start listening to me?” Cory asked.

  “Since you became my father again.” Naz smirked.

  “Meridian was stronger than you and me. She had to be, and she always knew what you could do. How do you think she got those books, that wiki page you carry around in your back pocket. You think I’m that easy to find. You did a good job protecting her.”

  “You tryin’ to be funny?”

  “I’m serious!”

  “Well, not good enough.”

  “You’re not God. She knew the risk, and like you, she was always willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good.”

  “Well, I’m not the greater good.” He thought about his dream the morning of the day he and Harvis left International Academy. He remembered Meri’s words. You’ve been given a gift that others have paid for with their lives. They only just now made sense.

  “So what about Artie and Ham, they didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Deserve has nothing to do with it. All of our days are numbered. We do what we can while we’re here.”

  “Well all of theirs were too short.”

  “They were.”

  “What happened to Roffio? He was one of your students.”

  “The most gifted of all, until you came along. It wasn’t his fault. Electricity is a gift of the mind, but it can take over. And like all other gifts, including yours, it can be perverted.”

  “That’s why Pauling had one of the Apostles booby-trap that door. He wanted to see then how electricity would affect me.”

  Cory nodded.

  “But Meri opened that door instead.” Naz studied Cory for a reaction, but he was afraid to try and read his mind.

  Cory looked away in the direction of the river.

  Naz continued. “Then someone needs to stop him, or it’ll happen again. Darla stood in that electromagnetic field, and when she came out, she was different, darker. I could feel it.”

  “I’m sure you could, and you’re right; someone needs to do something.” He looked back at Naz intently and nodded slowly. “I have something for you.” Cory reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a tiny plastic baggy with a light blue pill inside, and slid it across the table toward Naz.

  “Oh no you don’t. You forget; I remember. That will take away my memories, and I’ll forget who I am and what I can do.”

  “I’m not asking you to take this; I’m giving it to you to do with as you please. Destroy it if you want. This is not the same pill I gave you five years ago. It won’t take your memories, only your gifts, and it’s irreversible.”

  “Why didn’t you just give me this pill in the first place?”

  “Because it’s not my place to take what has been given to you. I made you temporarily forget to keep you safe. You are a man now, and your gifts are yours to do with as you please. You’ve already found them to be as much trouble as they are assets. If one day you should find them too much to bear, you’ll always have that option.” He pointed to the baggy in Naz’s hand. “But … as you say, someone needs to do something.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m only a scientist.”

  “Only?” Naz scoffed. “Coach Fears said just say no to drugs.” Naz looked at the pill in the baggy. “Did you ever think about me?”

  “Every day.”

  “You should’ve seen me play basketball last year for Lincoln.”

  “I didn’t miss a game. I especially liked when Harvis passed the ball to you, and it bounced off your head into the bleachers.”

  Naz laughed.

  “I saw you save that girl’s life.” Cory nodded toward the river. “I saw you save your little sister. I saw you become a man.”

  Naz smiled. “Is it true, what they say, that you’ve never lost a game?” Naz moved a pawn two spaces forward.

  “People make up stuff.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “No, it’s not true.” Cory moved his knight two spaces up and one to the right.

  Naz bit his bottom lip. He was hoping the legend of the Chess Master was true.

  “I lost once.”

  “To who?” Naz brought his bishop to the center of the board.

  “To you. The last time you saw me five years ago in the mountains, before we left that day.”

  “I beat you?”

  “You did, fair and square.” Cory moved a pawn two spaces forward.

  “I was that good.”

  “No. You are that good. You just don’t know it yet. Happy Birthday, Son.”

  “Thank you.”

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  John Darryl Winston is a graduate of the Motion Picture Institute of Michigan, the Recording Institute of Detroit, and Wayne State University. He also holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Wilkes University. He is an educator, coach, musician, and songwriter, but considers himself an author first—mainly because he believes that miracles and dreams live in the written word. He lives in Michigan with his daughter Marquette and intends to acquire an African Grey parrot one day when he conquers his irrational fear of birds.