Upstairs everything had changed. The music had gotten louder and conversations were a volley of shouts. There was no host—Derek’s brothers were either nowhere to be found, or selfishly seeking out their own indulgences. The Mayhew’s party didn’t have a head; only dozens of arms and legs all flailing in different directions. People were everywhere—streaming from room to room, seated around the Victorian dining table playing drinking games, doing upside-down keg stands, waiting at the crystal swan for the next drink to be poured. While refilling my drink, a guy wearing a Jim Morrison shirt got shoved into the pool.
Somehow I was alone. I had lost track of Roland and didn’t recognize a single face in the crowd. I meandered to the other side of the pool, where I found Chris standing next to Zeus. He was talking with two girls who laughed hysterically at everything he said. Chris could be pretty funny when he wanted to be, but not that funny. Though I had to admit he looked rather sophisticated, still puffing on his stolen cigar, leaning on Zeus like he was in tight with the Greek deities. I was drifting in his direction when a girl came over and struck up a conversation with me. She was thin, sarcastic, always waving a cigarette, with crooked teeth that distracted me whenever she smiled. By the time she rejoined her friends, Chris was nowhere to be seen.
Feeling everyone’s eyes upon me, I sipped my drink and tried to relax. I became filled with an urge to wander. I went from room to room, eventually making my way back to where we had watched the guests arrive. But the party that had previously been all static and uproar was now starting to make sense. The music was no longer too loud; the shouts from the back of the house no longer obnoxious. Somewhere nearby, a grandfather clock struck midnight, and by the time its chime ended, the sound of a piano drew me into the next room.
A small crowd had gathered around a girl playing a grand piano. She sat with perfect posture, and I watched her nimble hands glide over the black and ivory keys. The song was “Whither Must I Wander,” a tune my mother had played when I had been very young. A look of concentration filled her face with an inexpressive beauty. It was strange, almost surreal, to hear that elegant song being played there. The marble floors and chandeliers were worthy of such music; the drunken partygoers swaying from room to room were not. As she continued to play, a voice in my head sang the lyrics.
Home no more home to me,
Whither must I wander?
Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces,
Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child.
Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;
Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild.
The song surrounded me. It had in it both the present and the past, and I was pulled back to a place I had wished to return for some time. Dinner was over. As the table was being cleared, Mother went into the adjacent room and took her place at the piano. She sang as she played, her voice hovering over my shoulder like she was still seated at the table. It always surprised me how the music transformed her voice, allowing her to become a different person for the song’s duration. Father sat at the head of the table, with David across from him. Though I was too young to follow their conversation, Father would look over every so often to include me. Whenever David was back from school, Father made it a habit to talk about the firm. He and David would go back and forth, discussing serious topics lightheartedly, and despite being in the other room, Mother was there with us too, content that the family was reunited.
Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood;
Fair shine the day on the house with open door.
Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney,
But I go forever and come again no more.
The song was over. I sat alone in the shadows. The girl began to play a melody, something I didn’t recognize. Her friends had left, but she kept playing for the two of us. Her delicate hands created the music, and I found them too beautiful to look away.
Collapsed in the velvet armchair, I realized I was drunk for the first time in my life. The memory has never left me. To this day, whenever I feel the warm buzz of alcohol, I think back to the two of us on that particular midnight, alone in the cavernous room, united by the music.
* * * * *
I was standing in a bathroom staring at my reflection when all the shouting started. I stumbled into the hall and joined a rush of people on the balcony overlooking the pool. But wait—how had I gotten there? Something was missing. I remembered dancing and music. Yes, I had danced with her in the entryway. She had stopped playing the piano and took my hand in hers. The alcohol made me off-balanced; I couldn’t find the nerve to look her in the eye. I could still hear the piano as we danced, but her hands were clasped in mine, so perhaps the music was only in my head. I became captivated with how our feet moved in little circles across the cool marble of the entryway, with music drifting in from all sides.
Something was happening by the pool. The music had shut off. Everyone’s attention was focused on a bright light weaving back and forth behind the house. The crystal swan had been thrown into the pool. It sat at the bottom in a pink cloud of water—diluted remnants of punch.
A car engine revved, igniting a panic in those gathered below. One minute they were talking and laughing, the next they were shoving their way inside the house. The lights belonged to Derek’s Mustang, which was bearing down on the pool at an alarming speed. A stampede had started—one girl screamed, and a kid wearing a fedora fell into the pool.
The car never even slowed down as it smashed through the shrubbery, clipping Artemis with its front bumper before plunging headlong into the water. A wave rose out of the pool, crashing over those scrambling to get inside. Artemis teetered to one side, briefly maintaining its balance before toppling onto the concrete. The swimming pool was narrow, and had the car gone in anywhere but the middle, it would have been much worse. As it turned out, it passed through enough water to slow it down, though it still collided with the wall hard enough to smash the headlights.
As the car sank—leaking tendrils of oil—Travis swam out the driver’s side window. Surfacing, he laughed and started to say something, but his words were lost as he went back underwater. He was so intoxicated that treading water was a challenge. He finally managed to doggy-paddle to the edge where Derek—doubled-over with laughter—pulled him out. Travis looked lost, staring at the statue that had cracked in half at the waist.
But humor was lost on those around them, most of whom were soaked. One girl looked down at her ruined outfit and burst into tears, causing her boyfriend to shout profanities at the Mayhew brothers. Soon others joined in, the mood of the crowd changing from disbelief to rage. Travis hung his head despite his stupid grin. Derek alone seemed sober enough to understand their predicament.
CRACK!
A gunshot pierced the night air. The hostility of a moment ago gave way to an unnatural silence. The noise sounded like it had come from inside the house. Then, as if a race had begun, everyone was scrambling to get inside, and I had little choice but to follow, getting swept from the balcony and down the stairs like driftwood caught in a river’s current. We ran through the house, not to get away from the gunfire, but to find it. In the hilarity of that night, no one wanted to miss anything.
We ended up in the library. Lamps resembling torches in bronze sconces lit the room. Shelves of leather-bound books extended into the shadows. Wolfgang and Strauss’ cages were empty, and a faint scent of gunpowder hung in the air.
Zack stood apart from the crowd. His shirt was off, and he clutched the .22 with the intense look of a hunter. He was staring at the ceiling, oblivious that the room had filled with people. A girl, her shirt partway unbuttoned and her bra exposed, sat on the sofa. She looked to be convulsing, and at first I thought Zack had shot her. But then I realized she was laughing. She sat up and tried to speak, but her laughter prevented her from uttering a single word.
“Those mothafuckas,” Zack slurred. He shook his gun in anger. “I’m g
onna kill ‘em. Gonna kill ‘em and mount ‘em on my wall.”
He turned toward us, revealing a white, gooey substance in his hair.
The girl stopped laughing long enough to find her voice. “I just thought—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Wendy!”
“But they looked so sad in their cages,” she said, which was followed by another eruption of silent laughter, the tops of her pale breasts jiggling.
“They shit all over me!”
“Where’s Strauss! Perch up, Strauss!” came the reply, which was followed by a few agitated chirps. One of the birds flapped his large wings from the top of a bookshelf.
“I’m gonna kill you, MOTHERFUCKER!” Zack screamed, pointing his gun wildly in the air.
Derek rushed out of the crowd, pulling his brother to the ground just as the gun went off.
CRACK!
Everyone jumped. Plaster fell from the ceiling, landing within inches of where Derek had pinned his oldest brother to the floor.
“CAW! CAW!” screeched one of the birds. I could see them both now, perched on opposite sides of the room, their heads twisting to look down at us.
“REEEE! REEEE!”
“Er-er-er! The age of chivalry is past,” said the other. “Bores have succeeded to dragons!”
“What’s he mean by that?” Zack shouted, still pinned to the floor. “What the FUCK DOES HE MEAN BY THAT?”
Todd ran out of the crowd and pried the gun from Zack’s hands. Derek stood up, pulling Zack with him. Travis was there too, swaying in the corner, looking surprised that someone had out-humiliated him.
“Way to go, Zack,” someone in the crowd called out. “You’ll get ‘em next time.”
Then there was a commotion outside the door, and a woman in a housecoat who looked like she had just been roused from bed pushed her way through the crowd. The room went silent; even Wendy swallowed her laughter and began to clumsily button up her shirt. Then Wolfgang flew down, landed on his cage, and proceeded to stick his foot in his beak.
“Mom!” Zack said, sounding both delighted and surprised.
“Don’t ‘mom’ me!” the woman barked. “Give me that gun.” She yanked the .22 from Todd’s hands. “You’re waking up the whole neighborhood with your racket. Including me.” She turned to the rest of us. “It’s over. Go home. Everybody get out.”
“It’s over! Go home! Everybody get out!” repeated Wolfgang from atop the cage.
I was stunned. Their mother was home. She had been home the entire time. The loud music, the underage drinking, the car crash and gunfire.
As the crowd dispersed, the four of us went down to the bar. Derek had changed into dry clothes, and though he had served as the “responsible one,” he was obviously drunk.
“Jake, you want some Jack?” Chris asked, refilling his shot glass. If anything, Chris looked more alert.
“What?”
Roland was sitting on the pool table, cupping his hands over his ears like he had been deafened by the gunshots.
“My God, even Hawthorne’s drunk.” Chris slapped his hand on the bar and spun the barstool in a circle. “It’s official. This must be a party.”
“She didn’t come,” Derek said miserably.
“Who?” Chris asked.
“Samantha.” Derek was peering into his empty shot glass. “I invited her. I know I invited her.”
“She was probably here. You just didn’t see her.”
“I would’ve seen her.”
I stared at the mirror behind the bar. Roland was in the beginning stages of passing out on the pool table. Chris and Derek were huddled over their drinks like old men. Chris moved his hands as he spoke, his reflection smearing across the mirror. I looked at myself and grinned. I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. Somehow I had lost control of my own reflection.
“I’m going over there,” Derek announced.
“Where? To her place? It’s two in the morning.”
“I gotta know why she didn’t come. That’s all I’m gonna do. I’ll just go over, and ask her why she didn’t come. Then I’ll come right back.”
“She’ll be in bed.”
“I’ll wake her up.”
“That’s crazy. I won’t let you do it.”
Derek got up, stumbling a bit before finding his balance. “You gonna stop me?”
“I meant to say, I won’t let you do it alone.”
Then someone was speaking in my ear. “Have some Jack, Jake. Jake, have some Jack. Come on Jake Daniels, pound ‘er away.”
It was Chris. He put my hand around a shot glass. I couldn’t see him beside me, but I kept a close eye on him in the mirror. I carefully lifted the glass to my lips. Something cool was in my mouth, but by the time it reached my stomach it had turned to fire. My eyes returned to the mirror, but I looked away when I couldn’t find my reflection.
* * * * *
Unfortunately living “next door” meant half a mile away, though all distances were vague and out of focus. Derek led us down the hill, his flashlight shaking erratically through the trees. He had more problems unzipping his fly to relieve himself than he did stumbling his way through the dark. Shadow, the black lab, was at our heels. Roland had it the worst. Chris had to practically drag him off the pool table. But once on his feet, he marched without complaint, though with the dazed look of a sleepwalker.
When the shape of a strange house jutted into view, I had forgotten where we were going. I stood next to the others. Though I stayed perfectly still, my surroundings remained in motion. A wall of shadows extended above us. Not a single light shone from the house.
“So what now, captain?” Chris asked.
Derek shrugged. “We could always throw a rock at her window.”
“Beats breaking and entering,” Chris said, surveying the house. “So, which window is hers?”
Derek looked at him blankly.
“Right. Well, there can only be what … thirty or forty? We’ll just start with—”
He was cut off by a dog’s bark. At first I thought it was Shadow, but when the barking continued, I realized it was coming from inside the house.
“He sounds really big,” Roland said. He lay sprawled in the grass, one eye closed. Then he added in his deepest voice: “The Sentinel. There’s no escape from … The Sentinel.”
The dog’s barking became louder. Its claws scratched at the window.
“Nothing like an old-fashioned security system,” Chris remarked.
The dog refused to shut up. A light turned on inside the house.
“Okay, this was a bad idea,” Derek admitted. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But I’m comfortable,” Roland slurred.
“Up we go,” Chris said, hoisting Roland to his feet.
As we were preparing to leave, a window slid open above us. “Jeff?” a girl’s voice whispered. “Jeff, is that you?”
Her silhouette was framed in the window. A dim light shone behind her, highlighting the fringes of her blond hair. The dog continued to bark.
“Sorry to disturb you, miss,” Chris said. He was backing away from the house, guiding Roland with a firm hand. “Got the wrong address.”
“Hey! Who is that?” She lifted up the screen and stuck her head out the window. “Do I know you?”
“We’re the Highlighters,” Roland said, leaning heavily on Chris. “Sorry, no girls allowed.”
We walked faster. We had reached the tree line by the time I realized Derek wasn’t with us. In fact, he hadn’t moved at all. He stood, looking forlornly up at the window. I started back for him, but Chris stopped me.
“Actually, we met three years ago,” Derek said. “At the Bollinger’s Halloween party. You probably don’t remember. I’m Derek, Derek Mayhew. I live up on the hill. We’re neighbors.”
Nothing from the window but silence. Even the dog stopped barking.
“Anyway, we threw a party tonight and I was wondering—”
“I heard your party,” the girl
said. “All of Greenwich heard your stupid party. And what, you were wondering if I was going to come? Are you insane? I wouldn’t be caught dead at your house.”
“Okay, well just forget we were ever here,” Derek said, backing away.
“Do you have any idea what time it is? It’s three in the morning. Three in the fucking morning! I could have you arrested for … for stalking me or something. Better yet, I’ll tell my father a Mayhew is trespassing on our property. He’ll come out and shoot every one of you!”
“Okay, we’re leaving,” Derek said, walking fast now.
“He’s always talking about you. But then again, who isn’t? You’re the laughing stock of the entire town!”
We were all jogging, trying to get out of range of her voice. But the farther we went, the louder she shouted.
“Why don’t you do everyone a favor and go back to whatever TRAILER PARK YOU CRAWLED OUT OF!”
No one spoke on the way back. Derek looked haunted. The only time we stopped was for Roland to throw up. I had sobered up by the time we returned. The alcohol was still in me, but my surroundings had stopped spinning. I had grown up around families like Samantha’s, and I should have prevented Derek from going. It was ironic, really. He was so carefree at Wellington, but here at his own home, it seemed that the world was against him.
As we crested the final hill, I heard a disembodied voice rise above the wind. No matter where I went, the words followed me, as if the voice that sang them was my own.
Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood;
Fair shine the day on the house with open door.
Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney,
But I go forever and come again no more.
CHAPTER 13: HALO OF LIGHT
I awoke sprawled across a leather sofa to a high-pitched BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. I didn’t know where I was or what I had done to feel this way. Noon felt like dawn and every inch of my body ached. My stomach was upset and rumbling with hunger, and a sharp pain had settled behind my eyes. I had neither the courage nor the ambition to move. Memories of last night were elusive. The irritating beep eventually forced me off the sofa and across the hall to the balcony.
The Keeper of Dawn Page 15
