Welcome to Night Vale

by Joseph Fink

  “You awful, forgettable man,” Diane said. “You will not keep him. You’ve infected my town with your blank face and your false memories. I am sorry no one knows who you are, I really am. I’m sorry that no one remembers you are mayor. I’m sorry for your town.”

  She felt another Diane crossing a street somewhere else, arms full with groceries, and yet another, looking idly at the passing scenery outside of a bus window.

  “I am sorry you’ve resorted to taking other people’s children—”

  “I wasn’t taken, Mom.”

  “Josh, honestly, you are not old enough to know the difference. I’m sorry you have to resort to taking other people’s children. Maybe the problem isn’t with Troy. Maybe the problem is with you. Maybe if you were a better mayor, you wouldn’t be forgotten. Good deeds don’t go unnoticed. If there was an economy and good roads and schools, no one would try to elect a new leader every few months.”

  The man in the tan jacket’s eyes darkened. Jackie saw his eyes. They were unforgettable.

  “And maybe, just maybe,” Diane said, her hand waving in asynchronous rhythm to her speech, “a good father only has to be a good father, not a good mayor, not a man with a memorable face. Look at yourself, Evan, or whatever the fuck your name is. Josh, I’m sorry I cursed. Evan, be accountable to your wife and family, and they will care enough to know who you are. Govern your city, and you won’t have to infect mine. Be a father to your child, and you won’t have to steal mine.”

  The mayor backed up to his seat but did not sit. His flies stacked themselves in a subdued pyramid on his shoulder.

  “Diane Crayton, I have infected no one. You misunderstand the situation. I came to Night Vale because there was no place weirder, and I thought someone there would understand. But my long conversations were forgotten. My pleas went unnoticed. So I started to write it down. A simple message that would stick better. That, in fact, it would be impossible to put down.”

  He winced apologetically at Jackie.

  “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think people would mind that much. I need the people of your weird town to tell me how to unweird my own. I was desperate. Desperation does not breed empathy or clear thinking.”

  “You ruined my life,” said Jackie.

  He shrugged. That was all he would have to say on that.

  “Please understand, I didn’t want to force Josh. I knew he would be curious about his father. I just wanted to give him the information he would need to find him. I just wanted to give him the opportunity, a piece of paper with a town’s name on it, and I knew somehow, once given it, that he would take it.”

  Jackie was trying to understand the implication of what he was saying.

  “All of that, all that I went through,” Jackie said, “it wasn’t even for me? You were trying to get the paper to Diane and Josh? Why would you give it to me?”

  The man shrugged again.

  “I didn’t know what Josh looked like. He could have been anything. So I gave the paper to as many people as I could, hoping that one of them eventually would be him. None of them ever were. That’s when I decided that, as much as I didn’t want Diane knowing about this, I would have to get close to her and see if she would give Josh the paper.”

  “So you understood that what you were doing was wrong?” Diane said.

  “If you had just given that paper to him, it would have stuck. But you tried to keep it from him. Or maybe you just didn’t remember that you had it. I should have made it so you couldn’t get rid of it, but then you wouldn’t have been able to give it to Josh, and anyway I’m just a mayor of what is, after all, only a small town. I can’t think of everything.”

  The flies buzzed sympathetically. Or that was their intention. It sounded no different than the rest of their buzzing.

  “Mom.” Josh put a tentacular arm around Diane. “I want to stay. I want to help. It’s not dangerous. It’s a chance for me to meet my dad, to talk to him. I can really help these people.”

  “Josh, we’re leaving. We will talk about your father later.”

  “This town needs me to stay. Mom, I—”

  “No,” said Jackie. “No. They just need one of Troy’s kids to stay. And we have another one of those. Troy’s my father too.”

  Diane and Josh and the man in the tan jacket all turned to face her. Even the flies stopped flying, landing on the closest surface and turning to face her.

  “You?” said the man.

  “Anything you could learn from Josh, you could learn from me. And if you’re not putting me in some lab, I don’t mind helping you. You’re not like a mad scientist, right? This is just a research project?”

  “Jackie, no.”

  “Diane, yes. Josh has you and you have him. You are a family. What do I have? Years of repetition and a mother I can barely remember. This is no better, but this is no worse, and if I keep your family together, then at last I’ll have done something that isn’t running a pawnshop. Take Josh, okay? Take your son and leave.”

  Diane did not want to do that. She saw the waver in Jackie’s posture, the way she leaned her hand on the wall. She was not well, and she needed Diane to help her. They needed each other. But there was Josh. And as much as she loved, and maybe she did, maybe she loved Jackie, she loved Josh more.

  Dusk had turned to night, and the cheap overhead lighting in the office accentuated the unimpressive realness of this man’s life: his ballpoint pens, his worn-out coat (probably one of only a couple of jackets he owned), the chipped paint on the walls, the wrinkles streaking out from his eyes and nose.

  Diane felt herself at that very moment getting a thick piece of skin removed from her back. The doctor was taping the wound closed and telling her to come back for results next week. Diane felt herself filling out a pet adoption form at a shelter. Diane felt herself falling off a ladder. She felt herself riding an elevator. She felt herself living in a moon colony hundreds of years in the future. She felt so many of her, but still she was alone with this decision.

  “I’m young, yes,” said Jackie, “but I’m also much older than you can imagine, Diane. I’m older than I can imagine. I have all the time in the world. I’ll continue being nineteen with no connections, no one to give me a reason to grow a day older. I have a mother who will miss me, sure, but she already saw me through childhood. You need to have the same chance. You need to help your son be a better man than his father.”

  Josh opened his mouth to protest.

  “Josh, I get it, man, I do,” Jackie said. “I grew up without a father, same as you. But you will have time. Later, after your mother has finished what she needs to do. The next time you see me, maybe you and I will be the same age, and we can have this talk again. I’d like that.”

  Diane turned to her, but before their eyes met, Diane saw the window. The night reflected everything in the room back at her. There was a woman in the window, translucent and warped, wearing what she was wearing, standing the way she was standing, making the same small movements she was making, and looking deep into her eyes. She did not recognize the woman in the window, even though she had seen her many times.

  “You know I’m right,” Jackie said.

  “I’ll accept whatever decision you make,” said the mayor in the tan jacket. “Either one is fine with us. You just have to make a choice.”

  Diane put her hand out to Jackie, who took it. Jackie was crying, but calm. She accepted what would have to happen next. Diane did not break eye contact with the woman in the window.

  “No,” Diane said, “I don’t.”

  “Oh, come on,” the man said. “Yes you do, get on with it please.”

  “This is not about King City and it’s not about Troy’s children. It’s about Troy. He has infected King City with our town’s weirdness.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Exactly, Jackie. What an asshole. And what an asshole this guy is.” She pointed at the asshole in the tan jacket.

  He seemed much taller than before. His flies sp
read out behind him, an angry, buzzing aura.

  “You must choose,” he roared. “You must choose who will stay, or I will choose for you.”

  “You’re not staying here,” she said to Jackie, ignoring him, “and Josh is not staying here.”

  Jackie nodded. “You’re right. It’s not our fault. It’s not us should be solving these problems. It’s time for Troy to do it.”

  “And Troy’s not staying here. It’s time for Troy to go home.”

  “Damn right it is.”

  “Stop talking and choose which child,” the man shouted. No one was listening.

  “I met a group of him at the bar. Good a place to talk to him as any.”

  “Then let’s go.” The woman in the window walked away, but Diane did not move. She had a sudden moment of doubt. What if she was wrong? What if she was making a mistake? Her reflection was gone and she still could not move. And then she felt Jackie take her hand.

  “I’m with you,” Jackie said gently. “Let’s go.” She hooked her injured arm through Josh’s tentacular arm and led them both out the door and back up the hall.

  The man in the tan jacket followed them into the hallway.

  “Where are you going? Come back here at once.” The flies buzzed around him. None of the three looked back, and the buzzing grew faint as they pushed open the front door into the dusty night air.

  “You must choose. You must choose,” said a distant voice, and then the door closed and it was silent once again.

  48

  “Troy,” Jackie shouted.

  “Get out here right now, Troy,” Diane shouted.

  The first Troy who emerged from the bar was the one with the shiner, bloomed now to violet. He looked dazed, possibly concussed.

  Jackie held the door open and ushered them all out, helping with a pull on the sleeve or a shove on the shoulder in case any of them hesitated. Some were wobbly from the beer. Others strong and chipper and ready to drive home. Troy Walsh was prepared for all contingencies. Troy Walsh was confused about what was happening.

  “Troy. Get out here. Come on.” Jackie herded them all outdoors.

  Imagine a thirty-two-year-old man. Imagine a thirty-two-year-old man who is many men. They all look like the same man because they all are the same man, have always been the same man. Imagine a thirty-two-year-old man who could fix your car and file your taxes and mix you an intoxicating cocktail and paint your miniature collectibles.

  Imagine a thirty-two-year-old man born with the ability to be all things to all people but nothing to any one person. Imagine the look on his face when he steps out of a bar, a multitude of him, and sees the woman he, for a short time, always loved fifteen years ago.

  Imagine the look on his face when he sees a boy he does not recognize, but knows exactly who he is.

  Imagine his mouth opening slightly. Imagine the crack of verbal thought widening across his many countenances. Imagine the words visible in his eyes as he looks up, trying to shake out the logic and dislodge the emotions as the crack opens wide and humid breath hums in to prepare for a flood of words.

  “Shut your mouth,” Diane said. “Don’t say a word.”

  She extended her arm in front of Josh, who had also stepped forward to speak.

  “I will let you speak in a moment, Josh.”

  Diane looked at Troy. She looked at each and every one of him. Stay there, her eyes said. If I can see you, you cannot move.

  “This is your son: Josh. I call him your son because words can mean certain things. It is not the right word but it is the correct word. Behind you is your daughter: Jackie.

  “I am not here to ask for support. I am certainly not here to ask for anything on behalf of Josh or Jackie. I am here to tell you something on behalf of me and all those you are affecting.

  “You are to come home, Troy Walsh. You are to come back to Night Vale and leave this town. You are many, and you are helpful, and you are kind. But meaning well is not doing well. You mean well, but you do not do well. You are destroying this time and space by bringing the strangeness of our time and place into it. We belong in Night Vale, all of us. It is our home. Go home, Troy.”

  The Troys all glanced at each other. Some had looks of sincere grief and shame. Some had doubtful grins and smug elbows. One waved her away and staggered back toward the bar, but Jackie kicked him in the shins and shoved him back to the group. Diane persisted.

  “You have helped many people with your many skills, but also you’re an irresponsible little shit. Both of those are true. Truth can be contradictory. You are not forgiven your lapses by your nonlapses. How many children do you have? How many have you left behind? Forget it, I don’t care. What I care about is: What is Jackie’s mother’s name? How old is Jackie? What does your son look like? Behind all the physical forms, what does your son look like? What’s his favorite food? Is he dating? What’s the person’s name?”

  Troy looked at each other. One scratched his head, one burped, one stood straighter, uncertain but willing to give the questions a shot.

  “No, don’t try to answer. You don’t know the answers. Don’t waste our time guessing. Here’s another question you can’t answer: What does a father do? What kind of job is that? In all your infinite incarnations, is there one single good dad or partner in there?”

  “Hey now, hey.” The Troy who had tried to leave was stumbling forward, the sober Troys unsuccessfully trying to restrain him, shaking their heads and muttering discouragements. “No, hey, I’m going to respond. I’m not just going to listen to this. I did come back. I’m living in Night Vale again.”

  A few of the other Troys nodded, although they said nothing.

  “I was going to come see you guys, come see Josh, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it. There were some other jobs to do first. People needed my help. But I was coming. I would have been right there.”

  “No one needs your help,” said Jackie, sneering at her father, a man who expressed multitudes but contained nothing. “It’s you that needs the act of helping. You do it for yourself and not for anyone else, or you would have left this town when your ‘help’ knocked it off the map. Instead you nudged a smatter of you back to Night Vale, like crumbs at birds. That’s not a return. That’s a toe in the water. That’s a minimum of effort. You help and help, but you’re lazy. You’re goddamn lazy.”

  The more drunk Troys glanced at each other, nervous. One of the sober Troys stepped forward.

  “I didn’t feel I had earned that yet,” Troy said, looking only at Diane, who he seemed less intimidated by. “I didn’t feel I was ready to see you. I was really young, you know, and that’s a terrible excuse, but it’s what I was. And now I’m older. I can be many things. I’ve learned I don’t have to run. If you would have me. All of me.” He gestured to all of him around him. “I would happily be part of your lives again.”

  “This is not an invitation to be part of our lives,” said Diane. “This is a demand that you return home.”

  “Asshole,” said Jackie.

  The Troys, en masse, turned to Josh. “Josh, this is a strange way to first meet, and you don’t have to let me be your father. I need to earn that, but I’d like to earn it. I will be there. I will do my best, much better than before, to be a man you can trust as a father. Or whatever relationship we can build. I owe you that.”

  Diane allowed her son to answer for himself, against every instinct. Jackie nodded reassurance at her. Josh didn’t answer, instead turning to Diane, his eyes pleading, his face looking similar to Troy’s for the first time in his life.

  “You don’t have to ask permission,” she said. “Speak your mind. Say what you want.”

  Josh swallowed. He was quiet. The Troys were quiet. Everyone waited. When he spoke, the words were soft but clear.

  “Okay,” Josh said, and the Troys flashed proud grins. “But you’ve been gone fifteen years. She raised me just fine without you, so it’s a little, um, it’s a little shitty for you to talk to me like I need you. Sor
ry, Mom, for saying ‘shitty.’

  “I mean . . . Jackie. Jackie runs her own store, and she’s awesome. She’s doing great. Right, Jackie?”

  “You tell him, antlers.” Jackie smiled with her voice, not her mouth. Josh blushed, one hand gently and unconsciously touching the structure coming out of his head.

  “I’d be interested in getting to know you,” Josh continued. “But you don’t get to send four or five of yourselves. You don’t get to be everywhere. You live in Night Vale or nowhere. And when you’re there, it’s all of you or none of you.”

  Troy opened his mouths. He closed his mouths. He looked, with sober eyes and drunk eyes, around at himself.

  “Lucinda,” Jackie said.

  “Huh?” he said.

  “My mother’s name is Lucinda,” Jackie said. She turned and limped away, having nothing left to say or any desire left to hear.

  A few, but not all of the Troys, nodded knowingly at this. A few, but not all of the Troys, looked at their shoes.

  “Is this all of you?” Diane said.

  “Most of us,” the Troys said, in unison.

  “Get the rest of you together. You’re moving home. Now, Troy Walsh.”

  Diane followed Jackie, but Josh stayed, watching the men, all of them gaping at him, doing nothing. Then, one by one, they went back into the bar. The especially drunk one leaned on the doorframe and held his son’s stare for a moment, then he was gone too.

  “I don’t think he’s coming, Mom.”

  Diane and Jackie just kept walking. There was nothing left to say. Either the right thing would be done or it wouldn’t.

  Josh stayed where he was, watching the empty outside of the bar. He felt like crying, but his current physical form wasn’t able to do that. He had thought for a moment that things would be different, but they were the same. He looked down at his hooves for a long time, trying to gather himself enough to give up and leave. He brought his head up at the sound of a door opening.

  The drunk Troy was back. He nodded at his son. And the Troys, one by one, came out of the bar, a slow, staggering army of them, following the women back home.