by Max Hudson
“You’re a sweet little detective.” She smiled up at me and sandwiched my hand between both of hers. “And what about Aris? Anything happening there?”
I shook my head no. She lifted her eyebrows in surprise.
“What? Why not? He’s crazy about you.”
“He’s in a relationship. We’re just going to be friends.” She paused as if she was waiting for more, but I had nothing else to say.
“But Mark,” she tried again, screwing up her face in confusion, “I really don’t think it’s that serious. I mean, yes, they live together, but….”
“They live together? Oh, sweetheart, it’s over. There is no me and Aris. Nothing is going to happen.”
“I just don’t think you understand.”
I held up a hand to get her to stop. “Blanche, I really think I do. They’ve spent so much time together that they’re going to see it through even if they don’t love each other because being comfortable and bored is better than being lonely. Even if they aren’t physical, they’re together. End of story.”
Blanche sat back against the bench and crossed her arms. She gave my foot a little kick. “I like you and Aris together. I thought, I mean, I saw… Well, I thought I saw something. The two of you, years from now, together and smiling, raising glasses of champagne together and looking so beautiful.” Her eyes changed as she spoke; they took on a watery, distant quality that scared me a little. It was like she was hypnotizing herself.
“Hey,” I touched her shoulder and brought her back to Earth, “it’s just not meant to be. But we’re all friends. It’s fine.”
“The two of you did kiss today, right?”
I started. “How did you know that?”
“Just tell me. You kissed, right? At the warehouse?”
I nodded slowly. “Blanche, you’re freaking me out a little. But, um, yes, we shared a kiss. Then I told him it couldn’t happen again. Nothing can happen as long as this thing with Clive is going on.”
She nodded and looked at me. “Okay then. At least I saw that properly.” She paused to check her phone and then looked at me. “I’d better go, darling. But thank you so much for this little outing. I needed it.”
“Me too.” I glanced down at the volume on my lap. “I guess I have some reading to do.”
“Oh!” She held out her hand and I passed the book to her. “I nearly forgot. I promised to sign it.” She whipped out a heavy silver pen and scratched something inside the front cover. “Here you are,” she handed the closed book back to me and smiled. “Thank you again. You’re fun to be around.” She winked and stood to leave. We hugged and she walked off to hail a cab.
I opened the book and saw what she’d written. It read,
“You and Aris will be married five years from now. I know because I’ve seen it. Just like I’ve seen how much he loves you.
Signed,
Blanche the Psychic.”
Chapter Six
The week went on and I found myself reading every day. I finished Blanche’s book and was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it. Her poems were chilling, jarring in the best way. The one about the day her sister left to promote her first book and how she felt in the suddenly quiet, still house touched a nerve with me.
“...The furniture, the windows, the dog and I
Watch her leave.
It doesn’t take long.
In only two seconds,
My sister is gone…”
I moved on to some new bizarro fiction books that I bought online and found myself blissfully lost in stories for hours, sometimes an entire day. I couldn’t seem to stop reading. A few friends from the precinct called to check on me and it was great talking to them, but literally, none of them had read a book in years.
“I used to be a big reader,” Basil said to me, “back before I got married and had kids. Now I just read bedtime stories.”
“You should check out my friend’s book of poems. It’s great.”
There was a long pause from his end of the phone call and then he said noncommittally, “Oh. Sure. I’ll look into it.”
Blanche and I spoke every day, but things with Aris got quiet. I didn’t worry. I would see him on the weekend at Night Under the Stars. I was truly looking forward to it. After all, I needed some new authors to read.
My email was flooded with lots of messages from family and friends who wanted to know what I was up to during my days off. I wrote back to everyone who emailed, something I never did, and answered in detail. Then I would get online and look at different artists and try to educate myself about the different styles and the major players of the past and present.
I woke up excited every day.
Saturday rolled around and I texted Blanche first thing in the morning.
“Can’t wait to see you onstage tonight!”
“Are you ready?”
There was a long interim before she answered.
“Why do I agree to do these things? I hate being onstage.”
We talked for a bit and I did my best to pump her up, but she was wallowing. We agreed to meet for a dinner and then go to the event together. To my surprise, Aris texted almost a minute later.
“Hey! Long time, no see. Dinner tonight?”
I did a double-take at the message. Was Aris psychic, too? I went back to my conversation with Blanche and asked if I could invite my non-boyfriend to join us.
“Of course, darling. You know I want the two of you to spend more time together.”
“We’re platonic, Blanche. As I explained earlier, I’ll let him know.”
I switched to my conversation with Aris and gave him the details. “Know a good place near the park?”
“Let’s go to Mario’s. Blanche loves pasta. See you there!” I signed off and coordinated with Blanche, then put my phone down. Life was so much easier when I didn’t talk to anyone.
The restaurant was exactly what I expected. It was small, cozy and smelled amazing. I asked for a table for four and was lucky enough to get one in a nice little out-of-the-way spot. Blanche and Aris joined me, but Clive was nowhere in sight.
“Clive couldn’t make it,” Aris said as we sat down. “He sends his apologies. He really wanted to come.”
“Oh dear.” Blanche arranged her usual black shawl around her shoulders as she settled into her seat. “What happened?”
Aris shrugged. “I don’t know—a cold, the flu, something. He gets these short-lived illnesses all the time and I never quite know what it is.” He looked at me and brightened up. “And how are you?”
“I’m great. I’ve returned to one of my first passions, reading. Suddenly I can’t get enough of it.
“Oh, tell me what you’re into right now.” A waiter came up just at that moment so we all paused to order. I got the puttanesca, my favorite, and we ordered some wine for the table. By the time we were all done ordering, the moment had passed and I didn’t get a chance to talk about the book I was currently reading.
It was a true story or at least it claimed to be true, about a cop who goes to see someone who practices regression therapy. She hypnotizes him and he sees himself as a man in the 1700s whose job it is to investigate the lineages of others. If they’re found to have royal blood, they can claim their title, but if no proof is found, they’re banned from the court.
The book spoke to me because of the cop, who sees himself as very fair and devoted, has to confront a corrupt view on his personality. His former self accepted bribes, prided himself on how well he looked, and got fat from all the rich food he was constantly plied with. The vision shakes him deeply and makes him reexamine everything about himself. I loved it and desperately wanted to discuss it with someone, but I hadn’t gotten the chance.
“So,” Blanche said to the table, “this thing tonight is happening. Thank you so much for coming. I mean it. I’m so nervous.”
I asked, “Is this going to be a big thing? I mean, will a lot of people be there?” Both of them looked at me and nodded.
“Las
t year had around two thousand people. They’re predicting double this year.”
“Really?” I plopped down the napkin I had been unfolding and looked at Blanche. “I had no idea. I thought this was pretty casual.”
“Some authors from our town have done well for themselves. And I hear a rap battle is going to take place at the halfway point, so that’s exciting.” Blanche rubbed her forehead. “With any luck, no one will even notice I’m there.”
“Hey, don’t say that.” I reached out to touch her arm. “I read your book. Your writing is solid. All you need to do is get up and read what’s already on the page. You’ll be great.” She put her hand over mine and gave me a soft smile. “Plus,” I added, “I’m positive your fans will be there.”
“Oh, you’re the sweetest.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek and then sat back. I turned to see Aris staring at us, open-mouthed.
“When did you two get married?”
“Oh, stop.” Blanche shooed the comment away with a gesture and then reached for her glass and silver cigarette. “He’s a lovely man. You should have been nicer to him.”
“I was nice!” Aris looked at me and reached over for my arm. “Tell her what a gentleman I was.”
The demand made me pause and the pause made both of my friends laugh. “You see!” Blanche jabbed her e-cigarette in the air, pointing at Aris. “You’re an awful influence. You simply cannot behave.”
We talked and laughed for a while. The food came and my pasta was well cooked, the sauce having that spicy saltiness that I love. At one point, Aris made a joke about how he “must have been a food critic in a past life. I simply cannot eat at home anymore and now I’m obsessed with our local chefs.”
“I’m reading a book about past lives,” I said with my mouth full. Both Aris and Blanche looked over at me and I quickly gulped down my food. “It’s about a cop who learns he had lived as a criminal hundreds of years ago. It changes his whole life.”
“Sounds great!” Aris leaned across the table. “Tell me everything.”
“Gentlemen,” Blanche interrupted, “I’m sorry to do this but we have to go. I’ll be sweating in front of thousands of strangers in about thirty minutes.”
We quickly got our stuff together, slipped on jackets and shawls, left money on the table, and made our way out. As we stepped through the door, Aris looked at me.
“Hey, maybe I could borrow that book. Would you mind?”
“No,” I said, surprised. “Not at all. I’ll come by your gallery tomorrow.”
“Great. I’m there early.”
We had to squeeze through the tiny spaces of people waiting for tables by the door. I pushed past Aris’ chest and a little gold lighter fell out of his pocket. I went to give it back to him but we got a cab immediately and I ended up forgetting all about it.
We got to the park and I was taken aback by the giant stage, the small orchestra warming up off to one side, and the amount of seating. People were already wandering in, taking up the first few rows. Blanche gestured for us to follow her and we walked up to the stage as a group.
“Blanche!” The young woman with a headset gave her a big hug. “Oh, are these your guests?”
“Yes, I was supposed to have three but one is sick, so just two.”
“Oh, do we get VIP seats?” Aris clapped his hands a bit in anticipation just like a little kid.
“Well, you have reserved seats. I hope that’s all right.” The young coordinator walked us to a couple of seats with reserved signs and Aris and I took a seat. “Enjoy the show!” she said and then left us, and suddenly I was alone with him.
“So,” I said stiffly, “Clive is ill?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I swear, this happens at least once a month. We’ll have fun plans with a friend and then, out of nowhere, he gets floored by horrible symptoms. I swear, yesterday he wasn’t even coughing.”
Somewhere deep inside me, a little alarm went off. This didn’t feel right.
“You say this happens a lot?” I fought to maintain a casual tone. “You’re off-duty,” I said to myself. “Let it go.”
“It does. Should I be worried?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems a little odd that he didn’t feel at all sick yesterday.”
“It does, right? I can’t make sense of it. Like, last month he was doing great. We went to the gym together a few times, he had lots of energy. Then, suddenly, he gets a respiratory infection. For two days, he could barely move.”
“Hmm.” The crowd was coming in a bit faster now. “Two days?”
“Yeah, why?”
“It’s just…” I took a breath, then just closed my eyes and jumped. “It’s just that it seems odd he would have something so serious for such a short amount of time. Those kinds of infections can last for a few weeks.”
Aris turned to me with nervous eyes. “Mark, do you think something’s going on that he’s not telling me?”
“Yeah, I do.” I turned in my chair and faced him. “I’m sorry to say this, but I think Clive is seeing someone else.”
Aris instantly relaxed and looked down at the ground, shaking his head. “Oh, Mark. Come on. He’s asexual! He doesn’t even like to be kissed. No way he’s cheating.”
“Look, Aris, I know how people act when they’re hiding something. I know what I’m talking about—”
“No. You don’t.” He patted my face and tilted his head to one side. “Is it possible you might be a little, you know, jealous?”
“What? No! That’s not what’s happening here.”
“Come on, Mark. We almost had a thing, now suddenly Clive is a cheater? It just seems like a pretty big coincidence.”
He sat back with an infuriating little grin on his face and I could almost feel the steam coming out of my ears. I wanted to convince him but I also didn’t want to keep insisting. He wasn’t going to listen. The host of the show came out to give everyone a five-minute warning in hopes that the people milling around would take a seat. A few did and one older man sat on the other side of Aris. Soon the two of them were engaged in a full-on debate, but I couldn’t listen.
The show started and the energy in the park shifted. A calm came over everyone as we focused on the readings, watched the performers, and listened to the music. Each reader had a unique style and approach. Some looked glamorous, like Blanche, while others were rough and disheveled and seemed to wander onstage by accident. One even hid in the audience and sent his brother up to read in his place. The poet heckled him and then climbed up onto the stage, grabbed the mic away, and read his piece himself. It was a lot of fun.
Finally, Blanche came out. She got a huge amount of applause as soon as they announced her and she looked surprisingly confident. She waved to the audience and then found her spot in the center of the stage.
“Thank you,” she began. “Thank you so much for coming tonight. You’re all wonderful.” She pulled a book out from under her shawl and opened it to a marked spot. “Tonight, I want to read you one of my original works. It’s called Raw Meat.”
The crowd applauded again and both Aris and I exchanged a quick glance. This was it.
“Rubbed and seasoned, slick and wet,
This meat is past,
It’s already met…”
Her poem was dark and nervous. It made me tense, giving me the impulse to look over my shoulder. She read it beautifully, with adjustments to her volume and pauses in just the right places. I sincerely loved it. When she read the last line, the crowd burst into loud cheers and I jumped up from my chair to yell louder than everyone.
“Thank you,” she called out and I saw a quick wink directed over toward me. I threw her some kisses and then sat back down.
“Blanche is right about you,” Aris said smiling. “You are fun!”
I grabbed his arm and held it. “Aris, do yourself a favor. Go home right now and see if Clive is there with someone else. If I’m wrong, I’ll never breathe another word about it. But, if I’m right, and I think I am,
you should know what he’s like. I’ll tell Blanche you got a call and had to leave.”
He looked at me for a beat, then stood up. “I’m only doing this to show you that you’re mistaken.”
“I really hope I am. Good luck.”
A worried look rippled across Aris’ face, then he quickly walked out. A rap group took the stage for an interim performance and Blanche wandered out to see me.
“Where’s Aris?”
“He got called away,” I said, patting the seat. “But, sweetheart! You were great!”
She looked at me without speaking. “Something’s up, isn’t it?”
I sighed. “Fine. He told me a few things about what’s been going on with Clive, and it’s a classic case of infidelity. And, I told him that.”
She nodded slowly. “I had a bad feeling when we all met at dinner, but I wasn’t able to decipher it. Nervousness always clouds my vision.” She leaned into me. “Did you really like it?”
“Loved it.”
“Thanks.” She took a deep breath and leaned back. “I was worried it was the wrong choice for the night. It’s always hard to predict what sort of crowd we’ll get here.”
We relaxed and took in the rest of the show. It was fun and silly and dirty and I was pleasantly surprised at how much I liked it. We left and Blanche asked if I wanted to call Aris.
“I don’t think I should,” I said. “My guess is I was right and he’s pretty upset right now. I’m sure if I’d been mistaken he would have said something.”
Blanche wrapped her arm around mine and patted my arm. “Oh, dear,” she said, shaking her head, “you are just determined to make this as complicated as possible, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said, “try not thinking like a cop. Just for a bit. You’d be amazed what it can do for you. And buy me an ice cream. I’ve earned it.” We walked off laughing together, but no matter how much I joked with Blanche, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d made a horrible mistake.
Chapter Seven
I licked my vanilla bean ice cream and savored the taste of the tiny black flecks on my tongue. I tried to pay attention to what Blanche was saying, but I was too distracted. No matter how many times I snapped myself out of it, or tried to, I couldn’t keep up with her train of thought.
