ALEC: An Action & Adventure Fantasy Novel (Alexander Trilogy)

by Stan I. S. Law

  During supper, they talked about the film his parents had seen. It was good but not that good. It was, his mom said, an escape from reality.

  Alec didn’t say anything. He smiled and went upstairs.

  He and Sandra talked and marveled well into the night. Alec was gaining a new sense of freedom. The type that comes with greater understanding of truth. Then they stopped talking and just were. They practiced wu wei. The action of not acting. Somehow, it now made a lot more sense.

  28

  Princess Susanna

  Boys come of age slowly. They are awkward, get more awkward, and then return to being fairly awkward. A flimsy down suggesting its presence under their noses, their chins, and somewhat later along their cheeks accentuates the visible stages. The dawn of the down, his father once called this mark of pubescence. The aural change is defined by the ridiculous incongruity in the intonation of their voices, from a uniform falsetto to anything ranging from tenor to a sonorous basso profundo. Finally, there is a less discernible change that manifests in a man-boy’s total inability to keep his eyes from anything attractive walking by. This last trait stays with men well into their nineties. Sometimes longer.

  Girls come of age quite differently, and this change appears to be only loosely related to their biological age. One day they are cute little girls prancing from one uncle’s knee to another, and the next morning they wake up as young women, full of allure, and apparently in complete awareness if not control of their power over men of all ages.

  Suzy had come of age.

  When Alec first saw her on Boxing Day, she literally took his breath away.

  The cutest Su, Suzy or even Suzan, had turned overnight into Susanna. This was accomplishes by the invincible force which turns heads, makes men make complete fools of themselves, makes them act like the somewhat awkward males they are destined to remain for the rest of their lives. John Norman appeared to be the only male alive in and around Montreal who seemed completely unaware of what had happened. The transformation of his daughter into a young lady radiating the most enigmatic of all charms, the charm of youthful feminine innocence, seemed to have gone unnoticed by her father.

  Le Nozze di Figaro notwithstanding, Alec was happy to play fiancé to Susanna any time, although he couldn’t imagine Su being a maid to Countess Almaviva nor, for that matter, to anyone else. Rather, Countess Almaviva could pay court to Princess Susanna.

  And what a Princess she turned out to be. Her long golden hair that she let hang straight down, as though carelessly, set off the dark brown of her skin, lustrous after her winter break in the South. Her pearly white teeth flashed irresistible smiles in all directions, while her eyes sparkled as only sixteen-year-old eyes can sparkle.

  Alec was doing quite well in his own right.

  The term exams placed him firmly at the top of his class. He was heading for academic Primus inter pares, as Mr. Thomas, who loved Latin, liked to say. His swimming had broadened his shoulders; his tennis added confidence to his demeanor. And in addition, his voice, turning, perhaps a trifle prematurely, into a pleasant baritone (with only an occasional high-pitched squeak), helped to create a masculine impression. He definitely had more poise than any fourteen-year-old he’d ever met, and radiated more confidence than many a man twice his age. Well, one-and-a-quarter... Anyway, he did not act like an awkward teenager.

  And he would soon have the chance to prove himself to Susanna. After Boxing Day lunch at the Normans’, Mr. Norman, with strange formality, asked Alec to escort Susanna to the New Year’s Eve school Masquerade. This was no ordinary school dance. The theme broke with tradition. It was really a dress rehearsal, a smaller version of the debutantes’ ball that would follow at the Ritz-Carlton later in the year.

  Luckily, Alicia, when it had been her turn to be fourteen or so, had taken a number of lessons in ballroom dancing. They started practicing just after breakfast on the 27th, broke for lunch and continued till supper. They did this for the next five days until, on the night of the Ball, Alec, dressed in a smart tux his mother had borrowed from a local theater company, felt ready for anything the band might throw at him.

  “Would you care to dance?” he asked nonchalantly.

  Instead of playing another ear-shattering tune, with the consequent disjointed jerking, stomping and twisting in tempo to the rhythmic noise generated principally by about ten drums of all sizes, the band had just struck up a tango. No self-respecting teenager ever learned a tango, nor would a self-respecting band play a tango at a school dance. This, however, as previously stated, was no ordinary school dance. It was a dry-run for the Ritz-Carlton. The Ritz-Carlton. The place where people still wore tails. Monkey suits. And, yes, they danced tangos.

  As for the schoolboys, or girls for that matter, few had ever seen it danced. The dance floor emptied quite quickly.

  Alec took Susanna’s arm, wedged it in the crook of his elbow and led her practically to the center of the dance floor. There, with a simple pirouette, he spun her, ivory gown twirling, into his arms.

  Although he had no idea what a natural dancer felt like, his dancing experience being limited to five days in his mother’s arms, Suzy felt light as a feather and performed some steps he hadn’t realized he had initiated. At one point he made a gross faux pas, only to find Suzy effortlessly turning it into a new step that looked and felt just right.

  “I asked Daddy if they would play a tango for us,” Suzy whispered in his ear. “You won’t believe it, Alec, but very few people refuse father’s requests.”

  Deny the Goliath—who would?

  “Dad and I have been practicing all month, just in case you could dance it also,” she confessed, the gentlest flush rising in her cheeks.

  Alec felt drawn into a conspiracy in which he was little more than a willing pawn.

  With a final arpeggio, the music stopped.

  Apart from some polite clapping from his peers, and a bit more lively applause from a collection of parents sitting on the balcony, Alec, with Su firmly anchored to his arm, finally ceded sole possession of the dance floor. Then, when the young couple was about halfway ‘home’, John Norman single-handedly raised enough heated, sonorous “bravos” to rouse the other parents to a standing ovation. Frankly, Alec would rather have hidden himself in some secluded thicket, but he had no choice. He had to extend his arm to Susanna, who curtsied, repeatedly, with the proficiency of a well-established prima ballerina.

  Yes. Susanna was definitely a Princess.

  The rest of the dance was uneventful. Mom told him later that Mr. Norman was an awkward dancer; dad was little more pleased with Mrs. Norman. Alec did ask his mother to a dance. They spun to the strains of a Viennese Waltz, Alec preferring the counter-clockwise direction, which left his mother a little confused.

  And then came the New Year’s countdown.

  The awkwardness, from which Alec apparently did not suffer, returned with a vengeance. What was he to do? Kiss Suzy in public? In front of her father? What the devil was he going to do?

  As the clock struck midnight, Susanna waited until her father turned his back to take his own wife into his arms. Then, with the dexterity and speed of an antelope being chased by a hungry cheetah, she sprang into Alec’s arms, planted a full, smothering kiss on his mouth, and withdrew before her father had a chance to give her mother a traditional peck.

  Was Susanna a Princess or what?

  The next morning Alec woke up a foot taller. Not physically, but his ego was bloated to within an inch of bursting. He had not only escorted by far the most beautiful Princess to his first ever Masquerade, but he had not tripped over his or anyone else’s feet. Nor did he make a fool of himself at the stroke of midnight, and, all in all, he behaved as he thought a gentleman should. Mr. Norman actually came over to thank him for escorting his daughter to her very first ball.

  Imagine? The Goliath thanking David?

  ***

  There was one dream Alicia had that she’d never shared with her husband. And that w
as to spend the winter, or part of it, down south. A number of her friends had already retired and became, what is known in Canada as, Snowbirds. This term is not limited to Canadians, but anyone from U.S. Northeast, Midwest, or Pacific Northwest would qualify. Don, the sailor, would not. He was, as her husband would say, a very different kettle of fish. Although in Don’s case, at least before they discovered the black gooey stuff on his li’l paaahtch, or was it spreeead, a “kettle of cattle” sounded more appropriate.

  Still, what’s in a name, she mused.

  And here was her chance. It would be the last step to her complete happiness, her tiny nook of heaven.

  Don must have been a pretty lonely man. Once the summer was over, he called every two weeks, with frequent emails attaching views of and from his yacht. If ever there were a way to tempt Alicia with anything, he’d become a master at it. They wouldn’t make it for Christmas, but Alex and Don agreed that by 15th January they would be on board. And this time for a whole month of cruising. Maybe longer. Don said that in a month or two he could take them all the way to Trinidad and Tobago, and touch on every island on the way.

  “And bring the young feller with you. It’s not good to spend all the time in school. He might become a smart aleck,” he tired hard to stifle a chuckle. “And we need someone to do the work, don’t we?”

  “Too late, my friend. He’s got a girlfriend now.”

  “So? Bring her too!”

  Alex had to laugh. Actually he could make arrangements for Alec to stay with Pete for a month. On the other hand he had grave doubts if John Norman would entrust his daughter to him and Alicia, with his son around. As for staying with Pete, next door, Alec had suggested as much himself, and Pete’s parents agreed at once.

  “He can stay as long as he likes,” they assured him, “Go and sail, and don’t worry about Alec. Pete will love having him over.”

  “Even for a month or two?”

  “Enjoy yourselves,” was the cryptic answer.

  So that was that. On the other hand, Alex Senior very much doubted that his son would ever want to leave Suzy for that long. Not yet…

  For Alex Baldwin, in Canada, winter was the slow season. For structural engineers work could go on but civil engineers dealt with bridges, dams, airfields and other megaprojects that involved vast outdoor works that could not be protected from the vicissitudes of climate.

  Most of his work was covered by four or five feet of snow. It was the right time to get away. He could easily take a month off, maybe as much as two. It would be an incredible experience. And young Alec sounded as though he was looking forward to being alone. He seemed to have reached that age when a boy is just becoming a man. He was Coming of Age. Primitive cultures called it the Rights of Passage. It was the time when Jews had their Bar Mitzvah.

  And young Alec?

  Young Alec had his Suzy, as often and as alone as he possibly could. It would probably include late nights, or as late as they could getaway with. On the other hand, Alec was too young to do her much harm, and to mature to harm himself. And there was always John. John Norman. He’d keep an eye on both of them.

  For Alex Senior it would be a dream-come-true, which began years ago between the Isle of Wight and the mainland of England.

  For Alicia it was also a fulfillment of her dreams. After the first outing on Catalina, she’d gathered considerable experience on their O’Day. She could actually be useful. She would no longer be a wallflower, ducking under the boom each time they tacked. No. She could easily avoid it lying supine at the bow, converting her winter-bleached skin into a color that Alex would find much more palatable. As would she, not to mention Don.

  For two or three years now, she dreamt of becoming a snowbird. Until now, she wouldn’t consider leaving Alec alone; certainly not for a whole month.

  As for the sail, it would be her final step on the way to heaven.

  29

  The Final Step

  “It is time... my love.”

  Alec sensed a strange blend of joy and sadness mixed in equal parts as he heard the soft presence of Sandra’s voice. He caught his breath.

  “Sandra?” he whispered hesitantly.

  “Do not forget my voice. Ever,” she admonished.

  “How could I? I couldn’t forget you even if I lived to be a hundred.”

  There was a sense of confirmation in his heart. She agreed. What was more important, she believed him.

  “It’s time for what?” he asked, quite unnecessarily. He knew in his heart that the Next Step was his to take.

  “Are you sure you want to take it?” It was she who was, in a way, dragging her feet this time. Rather as a girl would when faced with losing her virginity. Not just in the sexual sense, but, and more so, as if an important stage in her life was coming to an irreversible end. There was a ‘never again’ feeling permeating the air.

  Alec remembered the many dreams and fantasies he’d had about the Next Step. It was the answer to his desires, the ultimate answers to all his unknowns. Now, somehow, Sandra’s lack of enthusiasm was becoming contagious. It was like his coming of age. It was glorious to be a man, but… it had been such fun being a boy. He felt in his heart that the Next Step was the Final Step. It could not be undone. It was strictly a one-way trip. But… he was a man now. He had to face the future boldly.

  “Like serving an AB….” Sandra added to his thoughts, reverting to the memories of his youth. Such a very, very short time ago. Just a few months... And, surely, he was still a boy in so many ways. He hadn’t even decided yet what he was going to study. And here, the Princess, the Real Princess, was...

  “Where are you taking me?” he asked.

  Suddenly, for no reason he could explain, his youthful desire for the unknown came rushing to the surface of his mind. All his inner journeys, his dreams and fantasies forced themselves, en masse, to the forefront of his awareness. He was fighting the pirates in the Indian Ocean, wiping the sweat off his forehead in the sweltering heat of the Sahara Desert, and hunching his shoulders against the bitter cold on his approach to the North Pole. These and many, many other fragments of his imagination crowded and pushed out any and all the other, comparatively speaking, inconsequential memories.

  Were they memories? Memories of memories...

  “Memories of memories,” Sandra repeated. “There is no end of memories. We live and dream, then live our dreams, then dream again...”

  “But aren’t any of these memories real?”

  “They are all real. Whatever you dream you make real. By living your dreams you create reality. Then the reality dissolves, but the memories never die. They live on, intertwined into the fabric of the Universe.”

  “So even my life here-and-now, on Earth, is a dream?”

  “It is, but it is also more than a dream. It is that of which other dreams are made.”

  Alec sensed the words ‘for ever and ever’ hovering at the edge of his awareness.

  “So I’ll never stop dreaming?”

  “A wise man once said: ‘I am but an actor and the world is my stage.’ What else do you want, Alec? A greater part, a more important one? Then create it. It is yours to do as you wish.”

  “It is not in our stars but in ourselves that we are underlings,” Alec quoted. Shakespeare had been one of the greatest dreamers of all time.

  “We all create according to our ability. Mozart couldn’t play tennis. Einstein couldn’t maintain a happy family. There are different talents making up the Whole.”

  “So... I’ll never have to stop dreaming?” He needed to be really sure.

  “No more than we could ever be apart,” she said. Yet, there was that smidgen of sadness again.

  “Why are you sad?”

  He sensed that Sandra wanted to say something, in fact to deny his question, but her inability to lie stopped her short. She smiled instead. “I’ll miss you,” she said.

  “But you said that we shall...”

  “I said that I shall never leave you.”


  This didn’t make any sense. If she would never leave me... No. Never. It was not he who would leave her. NEVER.

  “Shhhh… You’re right. You will never leave me, either. But that which you are now will no longer be.”

  “But, but...”

  “It is the way of the dreamers. But, for what it’s worth, we shall be even closer together. Now close your eyes and let things just happen.”

  Even as she spoke, his eyelids grew heavy. His body relaxed on his bed. The house was very quiet. His last glance at his digital clock told him it was 1:30 a.m. The wishing hour, he quipped. But very quietly.

  And he entered a silence more profound than anything he could hope for on Earth. He was in the Far Country, surrounded by the ocean of stars he would never forget. The diamonds, the fiery ice, the spellbinding beauty. Even as he opened his inner eyes to his surroundings, he felt Sandra’s presence within himself. Not outside like on the Home Planet, but right there, within the body he couldn’t see.

  Some indefinable period later, on making a mental effort, he saw, once again, the mini-Universe filling the shape of his earthly contours. Galaxies joined by sparsely populated segments of space, individual stars hanging in the middle of nowhere, clouds and nebulas churning, gathering angular momentum, preparing for the stars yet to be.

  “I am the Universe,” he heard his own emotive thoughts. “I am the image and likeness...”

  The trillions upon trillions of atoms of his mental body began to dissolve, once more, into the impenetrable darkness. It was sustained by his mental effort, but only for a little while.

  He took his attention away from his astral body and waited for Sandra. He knew she was there, right besides him, right within him, like two peas in a pod. Then, even as he smiled at her first simile, the darkness of the Universe around him began to fade.