Meet Me in the Strange

by Leander Watts

The rising spirit quits the earth.

  Up to the courts of light she flies.

  Celestial legions guard her birth

  and shout her welcome to the skies.

  “The first time I heard that, it felt like Django was singing right to me and about me. The rising spirit was me. Django knew what was going on, even though I was just a girl in a city he’d never been to. Did that ever happen to you, Davi? You listen and it seems like every word and note and drumbeat—and even the silence—is about you and for you.”

  SIXTY

  It wasn’t until later that I realized she hadn’t answered my question. Hearing all those words, I wanted to kiss her so bad. I wanted to hold onto her and feel her heart beating against mine, her body heat radiating through me. I suppose some people would say she was mentally disturbed, and a doctor might give her pills to calm down the crazy thoughts that were pouring out of her. But of course that would kill the thing in her that was so perfect.

  And I thought about how Django said we see ourselves in other people’s faces, like Anna Z was a mirror right then. Not that I wanted to kiss myself. That doesn’t make any sense. But in a twisted kind of way I wanted to be Anna Z, even with Lukas hunting her down, and her fears and her crazy talk. I saw myself in her face, and it was okay. Better than okay. Way better.

  Silent, standing there, she was perfect because I knew that there would always be more talk-talk-talking. Like a battery, all charged up, ready to connect with wires and send a sizzling zap into my brain again. All I had to do was touch her, make skin-to-skin contact, and she’d blast me with all that energy stored inside her. Alien, earth-girl, hidden, known to me and no one else: she was perfect.

  I thought about what I’d seen at dawn the day before: electrum light and bright alien beings falling through the sky.

  And even more than before, I wanted to kiss her. But she started talking again, and the words themselves felt like the light and sound combined into one force.

  SIXTY-ONE

  “The creature in the book is so lonely. He says he wants to have somebody else to share his life with, another creature like him. So he goes to the doctor, all freaked-out and frantic, and tells him to make a bride. When the doctor says no, the creature says he’ll kill the doctor’s new wife, he’ll stalk him, and ‘I shall be with you on your wedding night.’ That’s his curse. You understand? He’ll show up on their wedding night. And in the movie, The Bride of Frankenstein, the same actress plays Mary Shelley and the bride. When I saw that the first time and figured out that they both were played by Elsa Lanchester, it was like a bomb going off in my brain. The writer, the girl Mary, is the bride of the creature. The one who dreamed up the whole story is the one who marries the creature. Or at least she’s supposed to.

  “I was the Bride of Frankenstein before I ever saw the movie or knew about Mary Shelley. It was me and my brother. Just us, together. Just us, alone in our house. You’ve seen him. You know what he looks like and how he acts. When he gets in one of his terrible moods, it’s like the whole world is going to end. You know how good-looking he is. If he was a girl, you’d say he was beautiful, right? But when his feelings start pouring out, it’s awful. Little kids start crying and dogs start whining. Business people close up their shops when he comes along. And it’s not just the weird and intense that makes people want to get away. It’s the scary and the crazy too. The wrong and the danger that glows around him. I’m not making this up, Davi. The Guardia go for the shock batons and call in to headquarters for backup. People go to church and pray just to wash the fear out of their nerves after they’ve seen him that way.

  “You have any idea what that’s like to live with, to be with all the time? I would’ve killed myself if I stayed there another week, and I swear on the Virgin that I’ll kill myself if I have to go back to him. Mary Shelley never went back to her family. This is for real. Mary never went back and neither did the creature. They both got away clean and so can I. So can we, you and me. Right, Davi? Am I right? We’re going to get away, and no one will ever find us and make us come back.”

  SIXTY-TWO

  I told her I’d swear on the Virgin Mary too, if that’s what she wanted. I’d swear that she never had to go back to her brother and live that way again. But swearing and talk-talk-talking and even kissing and holding onto her wouldn’t do a thing to keep away Lukas, or make Carlos back down. We needed a plan. We needed real action.

  So finally I showed her what I’d brought that day. It was the newspaper. Deep inside, with the TV listings, movie gossip from the New World, and music reviews was an article about Django Conn’s tour. The headline read “The Great Conn Rules.” It said that his was the most successful tour that summer—that he’d been selling out shows across the continent, and they’d added four more to meet the demand. Three of them were hundreds of miles away. But one was close enough that we could get there in a day. “I’ve already checked the train schedules,” I told her. “I can get the money, and I’ve already done the calls for our tickets. Tomorrow we’ll be gone. You and me, going to Django one more time.”

  If Anna Z thought I was great before, now I was the jewel on the crown and the ace of trumps. At first she kept shaking her head and saying she couldn’t believe it. Then she jumped up and down and grabbed me and swung me around and said I was the best thing that had ever happened to her. We were going to Django, to see and hear and be there for the last day of the tour. And nothing could make her happier or give her more hope.

  “Are we coming back afterward?” she asked.

  I couldn’t really answer that. I’d lived my whole life in the city, and it was hard, really hard, to picture myself starting a life in a new place. I’d never gotten past the city limits. I’d never even taken a boat ride far enough out that the city was lost over the horizon. Of course, my father had gone off on business trips, and Sabina had traveled some too, with Carlos and Cyanne and their friends. Skiing in the mountains, wintering in cooler locales, gambling at the Azure Coast casinos. I’d had that choice too, but I’d stayed put at the Angelus. I couldn’t imagine never coming back. But I also couldn’t imagine leaving Anna Z there and never seeing her again.

  SIXTY-THREE

  The train left the St. Paulus station at ten the next morning. The show was at eight that night. We had plenty of time. The only real problem was getting out of the Angelus and to the station without anyone seeing us. Carlos would surely be skulking around the hotel. And her brother—I had no idea where he’d be or what he was up to.

  I told Anna Z to stay in the suite with the doors locked and not to make any noise. There were arrangements I had to take care of, and it would be a lot easier if I made them alone. Money, mostly, was what we needed. New clothes we could buy. Food and a place to stay were no problem if we had the funds.

  It was late afternoon by the time we said goodbye. Sadness hit me hard as I heard her slide the dead bolt on the door. Walking along the dim hallway was sadder, all by myself again. Sneaking down the stairs and back to the main lobby felt like drifting through oblivion. Not like waking from a dream, but moving from one dream to another. Anna Z was more real than anyone I’d ever known. When I was with her that was for sure. Now, going about the hotel, I felt a twinge of doubt, a flicker of unbelief.

  Still, I stayed with our plan. Money was the most important thing. So I went to the main desk and asked Armand if he could give me a cash voucher. He never asked why I needed money, but he did make it hard, with his pinched lips and twitching fingers. He stared over the tops of his eyeglasses as if I were some hideous specimen in a museum. When I told him how much I wanted, his eyebrows arched up into thin, black curves. He didn’t argue. He also didn’t write the voucher, at least not yet.

  I made up some lies about buying skis and going with Sabina to the mountains. “We’ve been planning this for weeks. It’s for my birthday.” I even mentioned how my father forgot it sometimes, trying to play on Armand’s well-hidden soft spot. I named some resorts and hotels. W
e haggled back and forth a little. “And you know how much my father hates dealing with petty cash,” I reminded him. Armand made a counteroffer, mostly I think to save his pride, and I accepted the voucher without another word.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  After a stop at the cashier’s office, I headed to the east kitchen. Fabian was surprised when I asked him for a loan. He knew I was good for it, of course, and trusted that he’d get his money back in full. Maria-Claire came in, pushing her room service cart full of empty dishes, and I hit her up for some cash too. She gave me one of her sad, inquiring looks. “You’re not in trouble, are you Davi?”

  “No, I just want to buy a new turntable. A Stennheizer 411. That’s a really good one.”

  She knew this was a lie but didn’t press me on it. She gave me all the money she had on her. Then a call came in from above, and she went to prepare her serving table for the delivery. Plates, silverware, napkins, a vase with fresh-cut lavender and anemones, a finger bowl, and a selection of sliced lemons and oranges. She nodded to say goodbye and rolled her cart down toward the ovens.

  My last stop before packing was Sabina’s rooms. It seemed to me that either way—if Carlos was there or not—I’d be able to get some money from my sister. He might even help persuade her, figuring that I was collecting money to pay him off and keep him quiet.

  I knocked and got no response. “It’s me.” I was using my let-me-in voice. “Open up, okay? We need to talk.” More silence. I pressed my ear against the door and knocked again. “I know you’re in there.” This wasn’t true. I didn’t hear a thing inside, but it felt good to say it, to sound strong, in charge, unafraid.

  When I got to my room, there was Carlos, sitting with a wine bottle at his feet and the phone in his lap. He stared at me with the cold, soulless eyes of a hungry snake. “I had a little talk with Lukas today. He’s unhappy, very unhappy. You understand? He really wants the girl back. He said I should call him as soon I saw you. So talk. Now.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” My big voice was gone.

  “Don’t play stupido with me, Davi. This is getting very serious.” He pulled back one sleeve and showed me his arm. “Take a look. He’s a crazy man. This is what he did to me for just asking a couple questions about his sister.” A half dozen red welts shone on the inside of his arm. “Cigar burns. He held my arm down and got me six times before I could pull away. Just because I said I could see why you liked Anna Z. He’ll kill you, Davi. That’s for sure. I hardly looked at her, and he was ready to burn my eyes out. That makes it a lot worse for you, right? He was going to blind me just for saying how good Anna Z looked. I didn’t even touch her. I just said she had something special, and he started grinding me with the cigar.”

  He put his finger on the phone dial. “Where is she?”

  I looked away, toward the window, as though something out there might save me.

  “You’re not going anywhere until I’ve given Lukas what he wants. I’m not getting blinded over this. I thought I could make a little cash, but I’m not dying over a messed-up girl. So just tell me—where is she?”

  The room was bathed with late afternoon light. Silver, gold, copper, lead, mercury, bronze: all the ancient metals shone in the sky. A record album lay on my turntable, catching the weird rays, gleaming with pure alien light. I knew which disc it was: Gimme Back My Phantom Limbs. I turned on the amp and set the needle down in the groove. For a few seconds, the air in the room seemed to vibrate the way a gong or bell vibrates. Then Django’s voice came wailing from the speakers.

  SIXTY-FIVE

  This, Carlos hadn’t expected. Maybe an argument, maybe whiny excuses or lies or threats of calling in Hermann and the detectives. Or I might’ve just run away. None of those occurred to me in the moment. All that I cared about right then was music, the voice captured on vinyl and the voice I’d soon be hearing from huge stage speakers.

  I suppose it’s simple. I went toward the thing I knew and loved. I had no real weapons to fight back with. Yes, I knew the ins and outs of the Angelus better than anyone. And hiding Anna Z was important. But as soon as we left the hotel, that would be useless. On the train, in a new city where I’d never been, at the show, what I’d depended on my whole life would be gone. So it was music, glam loudness, wild voices, and freaky baryton riffs that I went toward.

  Carlos got up, kicking the wine bottle across the room. He threw the phone to the floor and yelled at me to turn down the music. My hand went to the volume knob and doubled the sound. Furious now, he came at me, shouting and waving a fist. I shouted back at him, “I can’t hear you!” And that was true. He reached for the turntable, and I pushed him away. Cursing, he tried again to yank the needle out of the groove.

  Django was crying above the gamba: “I sing aloud the silent hymns. Gimme Back My Phantom Limbs.” And as the baryton delved down and blasted on its lowest string, Carlos got past me, grabbed the tone arm and pulled it off the record. The needle sliced across the grooves, with a screeching explosion of noise. Django and the band disappeared. The disc kept spinning, dead silent now. Carlos had broken the tone arm right off the stereo. He tossed this to the floor and growled, “Tell me where the girl is.”

  Getting no response, he reached down to the turntable. His greasy fingers fumbled at the record. This I couldn’t stand. I had a second or two, as he turned his back to me. The sky’s metallic light flooded into me. Something passed through me: Anna Z’s energy, glam specters, alien spirit, or the echo of Django’s voice? I had no name for it then. No words and no clear pictures in my head. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand, Carlos’s wine bottle, and slammed it hard on the back his head. He tottered, turning to look at me. I hit him again, this time on the side of his head, and he crumpled to the floor.

  Then I heard Sabina snarling at me, crazy with fear and hate. She’d been standing in the doorway, I saw, as Carlos and I fought. How long had it taken? Maybe a few seconds. Too little time for her to join in and help him. She wore a loose, silk dressing gown. Her hair was a mess, and her feet were bare. Her snarling fell to a faint hiss, making my name into something obscene. She pushed at me, getting me away from Carlos, then knelt down and listened for his breath. I was out of there and halfway down the hall before the thought hit me that I might’ve killed him. Turning back would’ve been useless though. I’d done what I’d done, and nothing could ever change that.

  SIXTY-SIX

  It wasn’t panic that flooded through me, or guilt, or even fear. What I felt was powerful, overwhelming, but there was no pain in it. Nothing wrong. Everything good. The light still shone, though bolting down the stairs, I couldn’t see it. The sound was still there, hidden in the grooves of the record, even if I couldn’t hear it. What Anna Z had talked about so much was freedom. Now, for the first time, I understood what she meant. The life I’d had was ending. Right then and there, as I snuck down a service hallway, the world was shifting and changing forever. I was about to lose my life as I knew it. We’d leave the city the next morning, and I could never come back. This was freedom.

  I made it to the suite and did our code-knock so Anna Z would know it was me. I slipped inside, locked the door behind me, and whispered her name. There was no answer. I said her name out loud, and now the panic began to bubble up. She wasn’t there. I searched the whole suite. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, the balcony. Now I let myself feel the loss completely.

  Anna Z had vanished. Maybe Lukas had come and taken her. Or worse, maybe she’d gone to him and told him our whole plan. I’d get caught and go to prison for killing Carlos. My father would abandon me, and that would be the end.

  Where now was the shimmering presence I’d seen in the sky and felt pass through me? Nowhere.

  I was a fool. I’d always been a fool. I was nothing and nobody. I’d gotten stone-drunk on Anna Z’s voice, done the stupidest things I could possibly do, and now I was all alone. Sabina would laugh as they took me away. My father would just stand there with that cold, empty look on
his face.

  I took the roll of cash out of my pocket, and undoing the rubber band, tossed the money into the air. The bank notes floated around me like confetti. Reds and blues, greens and oranges, yellows and purples. I collapsed onto the floor and lay there like someone who’d won the Archbishop’s lottery and died of a heart attack surrounded by his winnings.

  Then I heard the glass doors to the balcony open and there was Anna Z. She looked bad: worn-out, freaked-out, and afraid. The shine from the sky made her glasses into two circles of hard glare. Or maybe what came in through my eyes and went into my brain was scrambled by interference. What I was feeling—furious and overjoyed at the same time—surely messed with what I saw. I ran over and put my arms around her, shaking and saying her name. Again and again. Relief, confusion, happiness boiled through my body like jets of steam through a pressure valve.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  “I’m sorry, Davi. I know I shouldn’t have done it. I’m really sorry but I called Lukas.”

  “Why?” I moaned. “Why would you do that?”

  “I had to do it. We’re going tomorrow, and I thought I might never see him again. So I called.”

  “But he wants to kill me!”

  “I don’t know if I should’ve or shouldn’t. But I did it. I knew he’d be getting desperate, so I thought it would be best for everybody if I told him I was all right. Best for him, but for you and me too. I thought if he wasn’t all crazy with worry, he wouldn’t try to find us. Wait, wait, just let me finish. I didn’t tell him where I was or where we’re going. Don’t worry. He’ll never find us. I promise. But I had to say goodbye.

  “Then as soon as I hung up, the second the phone was off, I heard footsteps in the hallway, and I thought it was him. I know that’s ridiculous, but it’s the way my mind works sometimes. When I was little, I was positive that Lukas could be two places at once. He told me he could do it and I believed him. He said he could read my thoughts, and he even went into my dreams sometimes. Or at least he claimed he did. He said he could look around in my mind when I was sleeping. And see absolutely everything. So you’ve got to understand this, Davi. I was never alone, even when there was nobody else in the room and my door was locked. I spent my whole life with my brother doing that to me: messing with my mind and watching me even when it wasn’t possible. I don’t think anymore it was real. It couldn’t be. But when I was little, I just accepted it.