Before & Beyond

by Patrick Welch

  "A gold coin? That is a hefty wager dear squire. Perhaps a smaller bet would be more appropriate until you become accomplished in the game." He laughed and shook his head as I hid the ball under one of the cups and rearranged them. "Choose."

  "Good citizens of Glenfallow," he called to the crowd, ignoring me, "the Hidden Princess is a game that is often performed by charlatans. There is one simple method for determining the honesty of the player." He turned back to me. "I choose the center," he said as he grabbed the two cups on either side and turned them over.

  The Hidden Princess rolled out from under the one on the left. "I am indeed sorry," I said as I dropped his wager into my till. I replaced the ball and began rearranging the cups. "Would anyone else care to try their skill?"

  "Hold," my nemesis ordered. He looked at the cups, then at me. "So that's it." He placed another gold coin on the table. "Again."

  "As you wish." I rotated the cups a few more times and stopped. "Please select."

  "On the left." He then tipped all three cups over. The ball rolled out from the center.

  "Perhaps a smaller wager next time."

  "No," and he shook his head fiercely. "Again." Another gold coin. This time he focused alternately on my hands, on the cups, on the platform.

  I performed my maneuvering longer this time so he could get a better view. "Are you ready?"

  He scratched his head, then turned to the crowd. "Often a charlatan will use sleight of hand to remove or insert the ball under the cup. However, we can prevent that. Madam, would you assist us?" A spreading farmwife blushed but stepped forward. I smiled, my hands at my side, and stepped back from the cups. "I claim the ball is under the left cup. Would you please turn all three over?" Giggling, she complied. The ball was under the right.

  He stared at the ball, then at me. "This is impossible! This man is a charlatan. I have seen him before. He is cheating all you good townspeople of Glenfallow!"

  I retained my equanimity. "Would you please explain how?"

  "It's the cups. It has to be the cups!"

  I picked up two, clanged them together. "Simple brass cups. I have them available for sale here if you wish."

  "No! I will prove it!" He forced his way through the crowd, which parted with a combination of curses at his rudeness and chuckles at his lack of skill.

  "Some people take defeat poorly," I observed. "Now, would anyone else care to test themselves?"

  I had won four more games and lost two when he once again stood before me. He was laden with three simple pewter tankards. "Now I will prove that you are indeed a charlatan!" He set them firmly on my platform. I studied the containers; identical in every way. I shrugged and removed my cups. "One more thing," he stopped me. "The apparatus is often the secret of the fraud." He glanced through the crowd. "Sir, you are wearing a ring. Would you be so kind as to let us use it for this demonstration?"

  The farmer shrugged and passed it to him. He in turn set it on the platform. "We will use this, not the leather ball you are so fond of."

  I nodded and placed it under one of the tankards. It slid smoothly over the platform; the small click it occasionally made I could cover by maintaining my spiel. "Your rules are acceptable."

  "Then," he reached in his pocket, "let us begin. 75 gold coins is my wager."

  I paled slightly. "That is a very large sum. I am not sure I have those resources available."

  He smirked. "Further proof, citizens, that the man is a fraud, a cheat! An honest man would not hesitate!"

  I noticed the crowd begin to grumble. 75 crowns. If I lost I would be near ruin. "Fine. I will accept your wager." I looked out at the crowd. "As I promised, dear friends of Glenfallow, I have indeed presented you with a most singular evening of entertainment!" I maintained some mindless patter as I smoothly and rapidly arranged and rearranged the three mugs. I shuddered as I heard a slight click when I finished. Had he heard it as well? No turning back now. "If you will."

  He waited only a second. "On the left."

  The crowd held their breath as he tipped over the three tankards. Then let out a cheer as the ring was revealed... under the right.

  "Thank you one and all," I called out cheerfully as I raked my hard-earned wages into my coffers. "Night is fast approaching; I am afraid Dr. Forturo must close his emporium for the evening. Please visit us tomorrow and sample our collection of elixirs, mechanisms and other treasures from around the world!" I watched with a smirk as my enemy staggered through the crowd. I found the jeers and laughter that followed him nearly as rewarding as his wealth.

  I was enjoying a glass of wine in Glenfallow's one inn when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was him, this time without his beard and homely attire. "You must tell me how you did it."

  "I could," I said after due consideration. "But there must be reciprocity."

  "I cannot pay you. You have all my funds."

  "Not that. I just want you to stop following me. It will be more profitable for both of us if our paths never cross again."

  He sat next to me. "That is acceptable. Now, how did you cheat me?"

  I smiled. "I did not."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The game of the Hidden Princess? I conducted it honestly. No sleight of hand, no hidden ball drop, no doctored apparatus. It was a legitimate challenge of hand versus eye."

  He stared at me, trying to comprehend. "Impossible! You've never done that in your life; you are not that good!"

  Truth be told, until that evening he was correct. "I knew you would be expecting some sort of fraud. You were concentrating more on how I might be perpetuating one than on the movement of the cups. You're right; I'm not that good. But I am better than you."

  My arguments convinced him not. "You're lying, Forturo. You had an accomplice. Perhaps magical assistance. I am going to learn the truth. And when I do I will find you!" Others watched and snickered as he stalked from the inn. I shrugged and returned my attention to the wine and my thoughts. I understood his skepticism; I would not have believed my explanation if our situations were reversed. Odd, I decided. For the first time in my life honesty had won out over deceit. I shrugged; it would probably never happen again.

  ROUTINE MAINTENANCE

  "Here he comes," one of her fellow waitresses called.

  "Must be three o’clock," said the bartender.

  Jane Cauley glanced at the clock. It was three o’clock, once she compensated for bar time. Now curious, she looked at the customer entering the restaurant. The man was casually dressed in khaki slacks and plaid shirt, hair neatly combed, clean-shaven. Not particularly attractive, just a normal customer. Which made her wonder about the reaction he had caused among the crew. She watched him take a corner booth; not her station, so she decided to ignore him.

  "Shit, he would sit there," said Sally Makowski, the sole brunette among the waitress staff.

  "What’s the big deal?" Jane asked. "Does he cause problems?"

  "You’re new here, aren’t you?" Sally said. "He’s here every day. Same time, same order. Pain in the ass."

  Jane looked at the man again. "Plain vanilla" was the best way to describe him. Yet he showed no sign of impatience as he waited to be waited on. "If he’s that much of a problem, don’t let him in here anymore." Although this was her first day at Caravan’s Restaurant, Jane had worked at quite a few others and that was s.o.p. for unwanted customers.

  "Not that at all." Sally started toward him with a tall glass of diet cola, then stopped. "Here, you serve him. Then you’ll get the idea."

  Jane shrugged, accepted it, then forced on a smile as she walked to his table. "Here you go." She set it in front of him.

  Head down, he merely nodded and begin sipping noisily from the straw. Jane hovered another minute, but he gave no sign of wanting to chat so she returned to the serving area. "Social butterfly, isn’t he?"

  "Butterfly isn’t the word," said Gus Wilkins, the bartender. It was still early, a good hour before the after-work crowd and th
ere was no one else in the place. "He comes in here every day. Once at opening, once at three. Real creature of habit."

  "And he orders the same thing," Sally added. "Diet cola. One. Now watch. He’ll drink it in fifteen minutes and leave immediately."

  She was right; the man didn’t look at the TVs on the wall, the menu, a newspaper. Just sat and steadily sipped his cola until, at exactly 3:15, he rose, set a dollar on the table and left without a word. Jane was frowning when she returned to the station with the empty glass. "One hell of a tipper," she said, having earned 11 cents for her efforts.

  "That never changes either," Gus said with a chuckle.

  "So what does he do? He just taking a break from work?"

  "No one knows," Sally said, looking up from the napkins she was folding.

  "I don’t think he does work," Gus said. "You know what he does after he leaves here? He goes across the street to Bacon’s and has another diet Coke. Then over to Samson’s for another diet Coke. It’s the same routine every day. He hits every bar and restaurant around here and has the same thing. Weird."

  Jane frowned. "There has to be some reason."

  Sally shook her head. "He’s just crazy. Harmless. But crazy."

  Further conversation stopped as a group of office workers paraded in, harbingers of the upcoming rush. But one customer stayed on Jane’s mind throughout the rest of the day.

  "Diet cola, right?"

  The customer looked up reluctantly. "Yes."

  Jane radiated her brightest smile as she set it down in front of him. It was 3:00 the following day and she had his order ready when he walked in. "I’m new here and I like to get to know all our regular customers. My name’s Jane."

  He merely nodded as he sucked on his straw.

  This won’t do, she thought angrily. "Tell me, didn’t you use to hang out at Tom Jones? I used to work there and you look familiar."

  "No," he said after a moment’s silence.

  She touched a finger to her lips. "Could have sworn. You look so much like Ralph. You don’t have a brother named Ralph, do you?"

  Another long silence. "No brother."

  She waited another minute but he refused to offer more. "Well, call me if you need anything. Name’s Jane, remember?"

  "Yes. Jane."

  Quizzical stares greeted her when she returned to the wait station. "You actually talked to him?" Sally shook her head.

  "Tried to. At least I know his name isn’t Ralph. And he doesn’t have a brother."

  "You’re nuts, girl. Leave that one alone."

  "And what fun would that be?" Jane pretended to dry glasses while watching the quiet man. But he repeated his routine from the day before, leaving promptly at 3:15 and one dollar on the table. Still she was grinning while she cleaned up after him. No one ignored Jane Cauley! She was going to unlock this man and his secrets no matter how long it took.

  When he walked in the following afternoon she was already standing at a table with his order. "Over here," she waved.

  Shrugging, he obeyed. "We’ve been waiting for you," she beamed as he sat down. "So how are you today, Ralph?"

  He frowned. "My name isn’t Ralph."

  She pretended to be embarrassed. "I’m sorry. I thought you said yesterday your name is Ralph. My mistake. What is your name?"

  He pondered the question as if he were selecting a mail-order bride. "Bryan."

  "Bryan. And my name’s Jane. Pleased to meet you." She stuck out her hand. He looked at it, then finally up at her. It was the first time she had actually seen his face this close and the age it showed startled her. She guessed immediately he had to be in his mid-50’s, at least. The firmness of his grip surprised her as well, that and the coldness of his touch. He said nothing more after shaking hands, merely returned his attention to his cola as if it were the only attraction in the room. "Enjoy," Jane said brightly and triumphantly walked away. This little game was making these long, slow afternoons much more enjoyable, she decided smugly.

  The next few days she purposely didn’t wait on him, curious to see if he would notice. There was no outward sign he did, although once, she was sure, he had ever so briefly looked her way. Instead she bided her time until her first day off. That afternoon she made sure to enter Caravan’s a few minutes after three. She saw him almost immediately and walked directly to his table. "Hi, Bryan. So good to see a familiar face. Mind if I join you?" She was already placing her coat over an empty chair. He glanced up, frowned, then nodded. "This is my first day off, and I still come in here! I must be becoming a creature of habit!"

  He merely continued to sip his drink.

  Which only encouraged her more. "So, tell me, Bryan. I see you in here all the time. What work do you do? An office nearby?"

  "Work?" He gazed at her with eyes of an indeterminable color. "This is my work."

  "Drinking colas? Or do you work for the restaurants or the health inspector? Sounds exciting. Tell me more."

  "I can’t. You wouldn’t understand."

  "Sure I would." She smiled and reached across to touch his cold hand. "Try me. I am going to college, you know."

  "Really? And what are you majoring in?"

  Trying to change the subject are we? At least, she thought proudly, she was getting him to talk. "Graphic arts. Eventually I want to get into advertising, maybe open my own studio. What about you? What wouldn’t I understand?"

  "It’s just…" He stopped and his face darkened. "What time is it?"

  "Time?" She frowned. "I’m not wearing a watch. Bar time says it’s about twenty to four, but they set that ahead fifteen minutes or so."

  "I’m late!" The fear in his voice and face was obvious. "I have to go."

  "Relax." She tried to hold his hand even as he jerked away. "What’s the hurry? Let me get you another soda."

  "I have to go," and he jumped from his seat and ran out of the restaurant, leaving her growing angrier and more confused by the minute. And sticking her with the check.

  "Sunovabitch." She threw a dollar on the table and stormed out. "If you think you’re gonna stiff my ass you’ve got another thing coming," she swore as she walked across the street to Bacon’s.

  What she found inside surprised her. The restaurant was in an uproar, with the staff and customers talking excitedly amongst themselves. All except one. She found him hunched over a soda in the corner, pointedly ignoring what was going around him. "You owe me a buck," she greeted him as she seized the seat across from him.

  "I’m sorry. Jane." He pulled out his wallet and gave her a five. "I had to get over here."

  She wanted to ask him about the commotion inside, but decided he wouldn’t have even noticed. She was too angry and insulted in any event. "Why? What’s so important that you can’t be five minutes late once in your life? That was rude!"

  Her expression would not be denied. "I had to be here. I had to close the door."

  "The door? What door? What are you talking about?"

  He pushed away his drink. "The door to the other world. If they see me they won’t try to enter."

  Her friends were right, she realized. "Door to … hell, you are a nut case. And how long have you been guarding this ‘door’ anyway?"

  "Doors, actually. All my life. We’ve been doing it… all our lives."

  "We?" She frowned. Was he dangerous? Was he serious?

  "There are doors everywhere throughout the world." His voice was heavy now, weary. "My order, if you will, guards them. It is what we were born to do. What we must do. Otherwise…"

  She lit a cigarette, needed a cigarette. "You need help, you know that? Counseling. You seem like too nice a man to suffer such delusions."

  He managed a wan smile. "I was late getting here, you know. They almost got through."

  "Through the door. Right," she said and smirked.

  He glanced at the clock, then put a dollar on the table. "I have to get going; I have to be in Samson’s in five minutes. Before you leave, check out the pool room."

&nbs
p; "I’ll do that," Jane said. She finished her cigarette, ordered a beer, finished that. "Pool room, eh? We’ll put a stop to this nonsense." She paid her tab then went to the back where the pool tables were. Usually the tables were busy, but not today. Instead someone had strung a rope across the entrance with a "Closed for repair" sign dangling from it. Jane looked back but no one was watching, so she ducked under the rope and turned the corner.

  She saw immediately why management had shut it down. The back wood-paneled wall looked like it had begun to melt. It bulged in several places as if someone had tried to break it down from the opposite side. She touched it tentatively then jerked away as the unexpected heat singed her fingers. "I was late getting here…" his words came unbidden and unwanted. Almost too late, she realized as she quickly left the room.

  "Your favorite customer’s here," Gus called.

  Jane turned, then looked up at the clock. Three o’clock on the button. "I’ve got him." She hurried over with the diet cola. "On the house," she said as she handed it to Bryan.

  "Thank you, but that’s unnecessary." He sat down and sighed.

  "As long as I’m working here, you drink for free."

  "Again, thank you."

  She dallied another minute then, realizing there was really nothing more to say, returned to the bar. "What’s up? Lover boy and you have a tiff?" Sally teased.

  "You were right, he is a nut case. Better he be left alone."

  Better for all of us, she thought as she began drying glasses.

  FESTIVAL OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS

  So began the Festival of Flowers. In rich array the people came, returning to their original home from the farthest corners of the world. Some arrived riding unicorns, manticores, elephants and giraffes. Others were borne on the backs of rocs and griffins and even more elaborate creations. Several rode flying carpets or merely commandeered the wind to carry them.

  They were greeted by a sparking city of diamond and carnelian spires, crystal fountains and golden footpaths, trees laden with emerald and ruby leaves interspersed among flowering gardens which emitted the rich aromas of cedar, orange, pine and cinnamon. Peacocks in full array, leopards with coats of constantly changing colors, singing swans and playful gazelles strutted amongst the revelers.