Both of Me

by Jonathan Friesen

“I apologise. My companion must have misplaced the toll.” I glanced back at the tollbooth. The man’s eyes were wide; his hands and the gate slowly raised and he nodded me through.

  I frowned. “No toll?”

  “No toll.”

  I pulled forward and glanced in the rearview in time to see Izzy place her rifle back in the guitar case.

  “Did you just hold up a tollbooth?”

  She shrugged and yawned. “Or you did.”

  “We are going to be apprehended in minutes!”

  “Then I suggest you speed up.”

  I could wait. This seemed the logical move. I could wait and tell the copper about this strange girl who threatened me and the toll boy. I exhaled hard. And then I would need to explain why I was kidnapping Elias. Why I couldn’t turn around. Why he was off his meds. Where I was born. Why I ran away.

  “Blast!” I floored the accelerator. “I should think we will blend right in pulling a plane on the motorway. How many cars have you ever seen pulling a plane?”

  “We need to get off the road, Clarita.” Elias rummaged for his star chart. “There! Orion is the only constellation visible in the sky. What does that mean? Get out your manual — we need an interpretation. Quick! Recalibration!”

  We hit eighty miles an hour. I was rummaging in my bag, Izzy whistled in the backseat, and I was now an accessory to a new crime. “Izzy, hand me my diary. In the left bag. By all means, I’m certain the manual will solve the dilemma.”

  She acquiesced, and I fought with the dome light and the diary pages and swerved about the road.

  “I don’t know what Orion means! I need time to look, and I can’t do that at these speeds —”

  “I know what it means.” Izzy placed a hand on my shoulder.

  I glanced at her hand, so gentle, reassuring. Hours ago holding a gun to my head, now treating me as her best mate. I rolled my eyes.

  Perhaps a second individual with an identity disorder.

  “Tell us, Izzy! Don’t you think, Clarita? We should listen.”

  I rolled my eyes. “By all means . . .” I shrugged my shoulder and wriggled free of Izzy’s hand. “Let’s sink deeper into this nightmare.”

  I peeked over my shoulder. Izzy slowly sat back, the wild pride gone from her face. In its place was a sadness, and she dropped her gaze. It felt good to see her weak, whatever the reason.

  “Well then? Speak, mighty Izzy.”

  She took a deep breath. “My dad was a great fan of Greek mythology and drilled it into me. I know all about Orion. In mythology, the guy was something. The son of Poseidon, the sea god. He could walk on water, and that’s where his problems started. He wandered across the sea to a small island of Chios. He ran into trouble, got drunk, as those Greek gods often did. He went after Merope. Bad idea, ’cause she was the daughter of Oenopion, who was no small guy. Anyway, Oenopion got pissed and blinded Orion, who took off, stumbling . . . Are you following?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Yes, she is.” Elias sighed. “Go on, Izzy.”

  “No!” I conked the wheel. “I’m not! I don’t see how a blind, drunk, and likely upset Greek god from a Greek myth has any import on this . . . thing we’re doing.”

  Izzy cleared her throat. “I will continue. Orion bumped, literally, into Hephaestus. That god was lame. Physically lame. But he ran a big forge, with Cedalion helping as his apprentice. Cedalion guided the blind Orion to the east. Way east. To where the sun lived. The sun, Helios, healed Orion. Orion was so thankful that he carried Cedalion around on his shoulders. That’s basically what happened.”

  “Anything else?” Elias’s eyes were big.

  “Oh, Orion did some other stuff. He went back to revenge his sight. No luck. And that’s when the story turns. He went hunting with Artemis, but he was still so filled with bitterness that he decided to kill every animal on earth. Earth found out, sent a scorpion after him, killed Orion, and Zeus stuck Orion in the constellations. That’s it, more or less.”

  “And from this emotionally edifying myth, we’re supposed to gather what exactly?” I asked, checking in the mirror for flashing lights.

  Elias grabbed his sketchbook and a pencil from the glove compartment and began a furious sketch. “I don’t understand the mystery. It’s all so clear now. Izzy has made it so clear.”

  Five minutes later, he stuck his drawing in front of my face. A beautiful portrait of Izzy and Elias and me, racing through a field, the moonlight on our faces. We were chasing Orion. Izzy and Elias wore faces aglow, while I looked back, frightened. I grabbed the picture and ripped it from his book, crumpled it in my hand, and tossed it out the window.

  “Why did you —”

  “I don’t know!”

  Elias crossed his arms. “We left on a quest. So did Orion. But we’re wandering; we don’t know exactly where to go. Just like Orion. Then we meet Izzy, our Cedalion. And she leaves her home and we all go east. We’re practically carrying her around on our shoulders. Oh, don’t you see it?”

  “I see a remarkable set of coincidences.”

  “Orion searched for Helios, sunlight. We search for the Lightkeeper. When we find him, we’ll end the threat, and Salem will heal. But there’s danger. We are being pursued now even as we pursue. We just need to keep following the stars.” He shook his map in my face. “We’re so lucky to have a wise guard who can also interpret my map.”

  There was nothing to say. Luck. Fate. Happenstance. A girl with a gun set our course, and I was to follow as if her story held biblical weight.

  “So, Ms. Wisdom, where would you like me to drive?”

  “Salem!” Elias raised his pointer. “We must to stay in Salem.”

  Izzy stretched her head forward into the front seat. “Salem. That’s the word for peace. Peace, huh? Yeah, I’m all for peace.”

  I coughed loudly.

  “Then let’s stay in Salem.” Izzy turned from Elias to me. “I know there’s one in Ohio. It will . . . It will be our Chios, our island of danger. Then, we’ll head for Salem, New York. There’s a Salem there too. That’s where we’ll find our Hephaestus. That’s where we’ll find our forge. From there, we’ll head east. East to the sun.”

  “And you know of all these places?” I asked.

  “Intimately.”

  “Well, then.” I slowed and eased off the road. “It doesn’t seem as though there is a need for me on this trip. It appears you have found not only an able guard, but a suitable guide. She is delusional. She is accommodating. She is . . . attractive. What more could you want?”

  I stepped out of the car and opened the rear door, dropping the keys into Izzy’s hands. “This trip is yours. You win.”

  “Win what?”

  “Oh, shut it! It has been quite clear since you stuck your weapon in my face that the only thing you wanted was him.” I pointed into the front seat. “Well, here he is! Why you want him, I don’t know!” I reached over her lap and grabbed my bag. I yanked and walked away from the car, before plunking down on the shoulder and burying my head.

  The car revved and pulled out. I listened as it disappeared into the distance and a strange weight of emptiness settled over me. I had nowhere to go. For the first time since I left home, there was no next step. No Plan B. There was only me.

  “You abandoned us!”

  I whipped around, and Elias huffed toward me with his bag, collapsing beside me.

  “Why are you here?” I buried my head again.

  “I can’t abandon my guide. I love her.”

  There was no way I heard correctly. “You love me.”

  “Yes.”

  I took a deep breath, threw back my hair, warmed inside and slapped him across the cheek. “Then what was all that Izzy affection?”

  “What Izzy affection? Clarita, we needed information. We got it. We got rid of her.”

  Two cars rushed by, slowed, and continued on. “Probably this isn’t the best place to sit,” I said.

  “You chose it.” Elias took a deep b
reath. “You know, it will now be a much slower quest, but the good news is we know the next steps.”

  I stood and raised my hands to my hips. “So we’re following her path.”

  “Do you have a better interpretation? Look. See how bright Orion is tonight. Doesn’t it feel right? The story? The everything?”

  And it was at this moment that everything I learned in school, every lesson in logic, every concrete decision I’d ever made seemed baseless. Yes. It made sense. It made sense that I was nearly shot and that I was sitting on the side of the road. It made sense that the most important task in life was to follow a Greek myth.

  And as in the myth, someone had to die, and I realised that someone was me. The me of London. The me of the past eight months. Both lay dead on the side of the road, but perhaps there was something on the other side of death. Something lighter and brighter.

  I had been bent both on helping Elias become whole, and discovering the final piece to my puzzle. I still was. But if neither occurred — if I passed no more tests and received no more sketchings, if I never held the true Elias again — it would not destroy my world. This Elias loved me. The Other One. The one I once thought monstrous.

  This was my journey.

  I would not break my word again.

  “Come on, then. We’ve a bit of a jam here, and transportation will be needed.”

  We started to walk.

  “Can I hold your hand?” Elias asked.

  “Can I stop calling you Jason?”

  “Deal.”

  And we strolled along the motorway, likely going nowhere, but for the first time going everywhere.

  “Clarita?”

  “How about we use Clara?”

  “Clarita?”

  “Yes, Elias?”

  He stopped. “Why was there an aeroplane attached to the car?”

  CHAPTER 18

  I need to rest.”

  I was grateful for the farmer who had offered us a lift, as well as the bumpy hours spent in the bed of his pick-up. But now, once again trudging along, this time up the off-ramp leading toward Fremont, Ohio, my bag weighed heavy. Yet, I was certain that if Elias drew a sketch of me again, I would no longer be looking backward. I would be face forward, my face shimmering in a bright future glow.

  We turned into a field and sat. “I need to write something.”

  “Some calculations in the map manual?”

  “No.” I grinned, it dawning on me that I hadn’t posted a new entry in some time. There hadn’t been time to recollect, only to feel. “I need to post on my blog.”

  I removed the laptop and clicked to my page, watching my fingers work from memory:

  Help Support Children of Incarcerated Parents

  500 Days of Wander . . .

  I couldn’t finish it. I watched Elias, at peace, on his back in the field, his right arm propping up his head. No more lies. I deleted the heading.

  This is somewhat of a deviation for me. And as I find myself far from home, I also find that somehow I have found it. Yes, I’ve found home. Does that sound odd? Can you rediscover a place you’ve always been? Or at least you’ve always wished you’d been? Does any of this make any sense? Likely not. No requests. I’m in . . . I’m in . . . Salem.

  FFA: You sound happy. Blissfully happy.

  ME: I think I am. Is that normal?

  FFA: Not of late. You always seem . . . discontent.

  ME: You know me too well. LOL

  FFA: Salem? Salem, Massachusetts?

  ME: No, just Salem. Salem everywhere. Though I believe I am in Ohio.

  ME: FFA? Is it . . . is it okay with you that I’m happy?

  FFA: Clara, I need to tell you.

  ME: No news. Not today. Yes, Marna is not well. Yes, you have seen my dad and he is likely an imbecile, but nothing today. Tomorrow you may strike me with a new calamity, such as an explosion on Lower Marbury, but not today. Can you do that, mate?

  FFA: Hmm. Mate. Marna looks better. But, Clara . . . I’m the imbecile. This is your dad. I’ve been following your travels, which, BTW, track a lot like my travels. The journal, the map I gave you. Do you still have them? I really miss you.

  FFA: Clara, it’s Dad, Sean.

  FFA: Clara, are you still there? Clara, please. Teeter doesn’t speak to me, and they both ask for you, Marna through tears.

  FFA: CLARA!

  FFA: Clara, I need you here. I don’t know how to care for them alone. We’re losing the family.

  FFA: Clara.

  “Clarita? Are you okay? You’re rocking. Are you cold?”

  Mum only a memory. Dad and my confidant one in the same. It made no sense. My life made no sense.

  But if FFA was . . . Dad, and he said it was, there was no escaping it. Dad abandoned us, yes, perhaps shared a hand in destroying us, but he never lied.

  He left that for me to do.

  My body numb, I gently set the laptop into the dirt, stood, and zombied onto the road, where I lay face down on the center line. The tar was cool against my skin. A feeling I knew; one I could trust.

  It didn’t matter from which direction a truck came, as long as it came soon.

  All I could think of was FFA. My best friend had died, and in his place arose a deceiver. Which meant Dad had lied after all. For eight months, he pretended.

  “Liar, liar,” I muttered, saw Izzy’s concerned face, and stood. I climbed into the rear of a vehicle. Maybe an ambulance. Maybe a nuthouse wagon. Which one no longer mattered.

  Liar.

  Or maybe a truck came and flattened me after all.

  I bounced around in the darkness. My soul must now be heading to its final destination, and judging from the lack of light, the outcome appeared evident.

  My life provided little wiggle room with God; surely I was getting what I deserved.

  Dad? I vomited in the blackness. Likely the first churling soul to make the downward trip. My mum. Gone. My dad . . .

  Everywhere.

  Would I see Mum in short order? No. Despite her shortcomings, surely she would make the upward journey and trade factory cement for streets of gold. At least I hoped she would. Though it would again leave me completely alone.

  But Dad, his life a vapor, floating in, floating out of mine; we would meet again soon. FFA? Dad?

  Deceiver. Like me.

  “Clarita?”

  Elias spoke quietly, and his hand found my ankle. “Are you awake?”

  “I am,” I said quietly. “So we’re not in hell.”

  “No. I didn’t know what happened to you.” His grip strengthened around my calf. “You were lying in the road. Breathing, but not there. You just disappeared.”

  “I wish I could disappear.” I sat up, wiped the spit from my face, and scooted away from the little pool at my side. “Am I in the plane?”

  “It’s a strange turn of events. Yeah, you are.”

  I nodded, though I knew he would not see the gesture through the dim.

  “But now the three of us are back together, and we should be safe in this thing. As far as I can tell, we can’t be too far from the next stop. It’s all coming together. We will remain in Salem and finally rid the Lightkeeper of power, and our queen will be pleased.”

  “Your queen won’t know. Your queen passed on months ago.”

  There probably was a better way to say it, but I didn’t care.

  “No, you’re wrong.” Elias’s voice shook.

  His hand left my leg, and I stood, groped in the dark. “Where are you? Where are we? I need light. Elias?”

  A skylight opened, two side windows slid back, and sunlight poured in. A U-Haul. The plane and the two of us were in the back of a modified U-Haul truck, with the plane and a sawed-off wing resting on the deck.

  “Who is driving this contraption?”

  “Izzy,” he said quietly.

  Elias sat in the corner and shivered. It was cold, but not that cold. His face twitched, and I climbed out of the plane and went to him. I realized I stunk, retreate
d, and dug for a fresh shirt, ducking behind the plane and quickly returning. I knelt at his side.

  “I should have told you about Mum earlier. I’m so sorry.”

  Elias’s lip turned stiff. “What killed her?”

  I blinked. What killed her?

  “A drink.”

  He pushed his hand through his hair. “Poisoned?”

  “I suppose.”

  Elias shook his head. “She wanted this trip for you.”

  This was not true. But I had no strength to argue. I sat beside Elias, and he began to cry. I gathered him near, and he shook in my arms, and with every shake the sting in my own eyes sharpened until I could hold the tears back no more.

  I cried. It had been months since I cried for her. Together, we bumped over the road and held each other and sobbed.

  Was it ten minutes? No matter. It felt healing and tragic, and I pounded the metal wall with my fist. I tried to feel, feel for my mum, but I still couldn’t. My mind was filled with Dad, the man I destroyed, the man I loathed, slumped at the table with Teeter and Marna and an empty chair. My empty chair.

  I couldn’t rid my thoughts of the man.

  “My dad —”

  “The king?” Elias sniffed. “I haven’t heard about him for years.”

  “He’s asked me to return home.”

  Elias fell silent.

  “He’s my family.”

  Again, he said nothing.

  “He needs me.”

  “I could never ask you to stay after you’ve been ordered to leave. But . . . I need you, too.”

  “Right. Well, then I have another decision to make.”

  I glanced out the window. Rolling hills in the flame of color. Reds and yellows and greens, splashed with orange, surrounded us in the most beautiful of scenes. Each farm, each home we passed, was painted immaculate white. It was a postcard. A beautiful postcard. I’d blog it, but Dad would likely be waiting.

  “How do we make Izzy stop?”

  Moments later, the U-Haul slowed, turned left, and left again, finally resting in a car park.

  Outside, I heard footsteps, and then the back door raised, and the full force of the sun lit up the inside of the hold.

  “You reek,” Izzy said.