The Necessary Beggar

by Susan Palwick

  “Hey. Hey, Zamatryna, what is it? I was trying to cheer you up.”

  “Fat chance,” she said, sniffling.

  “Do you have marriage customs in Lémabantunk?”

  “Of course we do! And I thought—I used to think—I had this fairy tale I used to tell myself. A couple of years ago. About how I’d do it that way and everything would be all right, because—well, it’s hard to explain. There’s this blessing, see, and—”

  “Okay,” he said, sitting her up. “Slow down. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything, okay?”

  So she did. She told him about everything except the beetle. She told him about Mendicants, about the Necessary Beggar, about her daydream of using Betty as her Necessary Beggar so Betty would get gifts and the rest of the family would be forgiven. “But even if I did it that way, I couldn’t give Betty that surgery, which is what she really needs. And I don’t think—I’m not sure there’s enough forgiveness in the world to fix my family, at this point. And anyway, I still think I’d have to mean it. For the blessing to take. And I just—I don’t know. Everything’s so confusing. An hour ago I was determined to break up with you, and now I’m telling you things I’ve never been able to tell anyone else. Plus making out like a crazed weasel.”

  “My parents have been married for thirty years,” Jerry said, running his hand up and down her forearm. She wanted to melt. She couldn’t let herself melt. She had to be a responsible adult. She really ought to get off his lap. “And you know what my mom told me once? She was terrified before they got married. She was afraid she’d wake up one morning and realize she’d made a horrible mistake. But if that’s going to happen, it hasn’t yet.”

  “Yeah, but I bet they’d been together longer than five minutes. And your mom was probably older than seventeen, right?” He was kissing her neck again. “Jerry, that’s very distracting.”

  “Sorry.” He stopped. “Okay, look, you’re right. It’s a little crazy. I know it is. But the question is, is it right? Is it true? These dreams I’ve been having are very crazy, but they’re true. And I think there’s a reason I’ve been having them. I think the reason is so I can marry you. Because that could—it could fix everything, if it worked.”

  And if it didn’t, Zamatryna thought grimly, things couldn’t get much worse. No, Zama, you’d better cancel that. Because the last time you thought that way, things got much worse. “Remind me again what this will fix?”

  “Well, it might keep you from being deported to Afghanistan. Or at least slow things down. And if Betty gives that blessing, it might help your family. And—you know, I’ve been saving money. I inherited some from my grandparents, and I’ve been working since high school. I have about twelve thousand now. That’s a start on the surgery fees, anyway. And we could tell people that as wedding gifts we wanted contributions to the Betty fund.”

  “You’d do that?” Zamatryna said, incredulous. “You’d give your life savings to Betty? You met Betty for about two seconds. Twelve thousand won’t scratch two hundred thousand. Jerry, this is impossible.”

  “More impossible than the dreams? I’m only twenty: it’s not like I can’t save more. Lisa gave her life savings to you guys, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah, she did. But that’s—that was religious. And we’re paying it back.” Very slowly. “Betty won’t be able to do that.”

  “All right. So call this religious, too.” He kissed her.

  She pushed him away, gently. “Jerry, I’m sorry. This is way too crazy. It’s too fast. We’re too young. I need to wait until I’m sure.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He nodded. “Okay. And how long will it take Betty to die without the surgery? And how long will it take them to deport you to Afghanistan? And if you decide you’re sure when you’re in Afghanistan, then what do we do? Zamatryna—I’d rather get married and not have you be sure, but have you still be here, than have you decide you’re sure and then not be able to get back into the country. You see? We’re in Reno. We can get a civil ceremony in an hour, just in case it will help legally, and then arrange the other one. And if we really, really had to, if everything went wrong and we decided it was a mistake, we could get divorced in an hour.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.

  “I don’t want you to hurt me, either. It’s nice we agree on that.”

  “Jerry—”

  “It’s not like I’m not going into this with my eyes open. Please. Please, Zamatryna. Even if you don’t love me—”

  “Don’t say that! I didn’t say that. I—”

  “Even if you don’t love me yet, do it for your family. Do it for Betty.”

  “And when do I get to do something for myself?” she asked. She remembered Rumpled Ron telling her she was doing everything for the wrong reasons, for other people. This was a fine time to decide he’d been right.

  Jerry gave her the sweetest smile she’d ever seen. “When you decide you love me,” he said, and kissed her again.

  She buried her head in his chest. “It’s not going to work. Jerry, I don’t believe in the Blessing of the Necessary Beggar. Maybe it meant something in Lémabantunk, but it doesn’t mean anything here. I don’t believe in any blessings. I don’t think blessings exist. The INS won’t buy it for a second, and Betty will die anyway, because we won’t have enough money, and we’ll decide we hate each other after a year and then I’ll owe you your life savings in addition to owing Lisa hers, and—”

  “You may be absolutely right,” he said, massaging her neck. “And we could get hit by a truck in the next ten seconds, too. And since you’ve moved on to telling me how it won’t work, instead of how it wouldn’t, does that mean you’ve decided to do it?”

  She shuddered. “I feel so trapped.” Was this how Gallicina felt?

  “Yeah, I know you do. If we went back to Plan A, which is sitting here on our rumps, making out like crazed weasels and waiting for the world to fall apart, would you feel less trapped?”

  “No. But I’d feel less dishonest.”

  “You’ve been very honest,” he said gently. “You’ve been painfully honest. You get big honesty points. No flies on you there.”

  “See?” she said miserably. “I’ve hurt you already. And Jerry, look, this is dishonest to everybody else, even if not to you. Does it count if you’re the only one I’m telling the truth?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I know why you’re telling me the truth. It’s because the dreams told me the truth. And you know, there’s no way either of us could have predicted the dreams. Which means there may be more surprises out there. Good ones. Zamatryna, I know blessings exist. Because the dreams do. And because you do.”

  “That’s sappy,” she said. She was frightened and angry now. Everything was wrong. This was all wrong. “That’s beyond sappy. It’s sick.”

  “I know,” he said, and grinned. “So when do we tell your family that we’re getting married?”

  She took a very deep breath. “We might as well do it now. Everybody’s home now, I think; it’s everybody’s day off. I just have to warn you, I don’t think they’re going to be very happy. And, uh, Jerry? Let’s not tell them about the dreams. Not right away, anyhow. Let’s just let them keep thinking that you think we’re from Afghanistan.”

  “Okay. Why?”

  “I’m not sure. Just—it’s simpler. And they’re freaking out about enough other things right now. Maybe later we can tell them. All right? Let’s see how things go.”

  “Well, can I tell them I know about the Necessary Beggar? Will that help? If they know we’re doing this to help Betty?”

  “You’ll have to tell them you know that. Just, like, pretend that you think it’s an Afghan custom, okay?” Jerry was willing to give Betty his life savings. It occurred to her that she had to be crazy not to be in love with him. It also occurred to her that he was much too good to be true, and was probably an ax murderer wanted in fifteen state
s. What was she doing?

  “What are you doing?” Lisa said an hour later, as the family sat around the kitchen table. Everyone was staring at Jerry and Zamatryna. “Kids, this is way too fast. You’re too young. You’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”

  “No,” Jerry said firmly. “We’re doing it for the right reasons.”

  “If you’re doing it for the right reasons,” Lisa said briskly, “do it right. Have a real ceremony, not one of those awful Instant Wedding Chapel things.” Everyone else nodded, except Macsofo. Macsofo was busy retching into a plastic bowl on his lap. The family had tried to excuse him from the discussion, but he had insisted on being there, so now they had to listen to him vomiting like a dog.

  “We are having a real ceremony,” Jerry said. Zamatryna’s tongue seemed to have cleaved to the roof of her mouth. “City Hall isn’t a wedding chapel. We’re having a ceremony with the Necessary Beggar, after the City Hall one. Zama told me about that. It’s a beautiful custom.”

  Lisa blinked. “A what? A Necessary—what’s that?”

  “It’s a custom from our country,” Timbor said, frowning. “You told him about that? Zama? Why would you do that?”

  “Why would you want one?” Harani asked. “Daughter, dear one, you are American now. It will not mean the same thing, here. It makes no sense.”

  “I want the blessing,” Zamatryna said, her voice very small. “I want the Blessing of the Necessary Beggar.”

  Erolorit shook his head now. “Zama, this is not right. The blessing is part of home. It is a piece of home. We are not at home. It will not work here. It has no place in America. It will mean nothing to your husband.”

  “Yes, it will mean something to me,” Jerry said. “I want to do it.”

  “He’s the one who talked me into it,” said Zama.

  Jerry nodded vigorously. “Because it will help Zama—help all of you—make this home. Not just legally. Not just with papers. With your hearts.”

  “The Law of Hearts,” Timbor murmured, sounding startled. “Did Zamatryna tell you about that, too?”

  “No, sir. I figured it out on my own.”

  Macsofo looked up from his bowl. He was shaking like a dog now, like one of those toy terriers you could fit into a teacup. “Yes, that is right,” he said hoarsely. “That is exactly right. This will help make America home.” Now everyone stopped staring at Zamatryna and stared at Macsofo, who had spent years scorning both America and Gandiffri. What was he doing?

  Timbor cleared his throat. “The family needs to discuss this privately. Jerry, I am sorry, but if we can ask you to—”

  “Of course,” Jerry said. “I can leave for a little while.”

  Timbor nodded. “Good. Thank you. And Lisa, I am very sorry indeed, I know you are practically our family and Jerry is—is about to be our family, or hopes to be, and this is really your house, but—”

  “No problem,” Lisa said. She turned to Jerry and said, “Come on, kid. Let’s go get some coffee. We’ll be back in, oh, two hours. Will that be enough time, guys? Call me on my cell if it won’t be.” She squeezed Zamatryna’s shoulder on her way out the door, and Jerry bent to kiss her.

  “I love you,” he said. “Do you need anything? While we’re out?”

  “Anchovies,” she said bleakly, and he laughed and kissed her nose.

  “Anchovies?” Harani said after they had left. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a quaint German-Italian custom. Never mind. Look, I know—”

  “You do not know,” Erolorit said heatedly in Gandiffran. “You do not know anything. You are being a child. Zamatryna, this is not right. He is not right for you. He is not good enough for you.”

  “He is a very sweet boy and he is trying to help you,” Harani said, “but that is not the right reason to get married.” She glared at Macsofo and said, “I do not want you to have to break your marriage. One broken marriage in the family is bad enough!”

  “Your parents are right,” Timbor said. “You cannot love him. You have always said you do not love him, and you have changed your mind too quickly, and you are too young. And the marriage will not really help us with the border judges, if it comes to that.”

  “I need to do this,” Zamatryna said. “I really do. And I want Betty to be my Necessary Beggar.”

  “No,” Harani said. “I am your mother. I forbid it.”

  “It is wrong,” said Erolorit.

  “He is too far beneath you,” said Timbor.

  “You cannot use Betty that way,” Macsofo said, and they all looked at him again. There was vomit around his mouth; he wiped it off on the back of his hand, looking ashamed. “Zamatryna, little Zama who is smart enough to be President, I have no problem with the rest of it. It is—it is a pretty story. The young man from a—let us call it a lower class. The young man who works hard to help you achieve something you want, do something you want, and in gratitude and because he is also sexy you fall in love with him, maybe even without meaning to, or maybe you cannot help yourself, and your family does not approve, but that does not matter. Because you are in love with him. Because he is the only person you can talk to about what is most important to you, and because your souls complete each other.”

  His voice was an odd sing-song. Zamatryna felt a chill on the back of her neck, like the one she’d felt when Jerry talked about his dreams. “Uncle Max, what are you talking about? Have you been watching soap operas?”

  He smiled thinly. “It is very like another story I heard somewhere. Never mind. Zama, it is a beautiful story, but it can end very badly. Very badly indeed. Listen to me: the Necessary Beggar cannot be someone you know. It is terrible luck to seek a Necessary Beggar you know, even in jest, or even if you are trying to be kind. You must pick the first person you see.”

  “Yes,” Harani said irritably, “that is how it works in Gandiffri, where there are Mendicants on nearly every corner, and where being a Mendicant is a holy calling. That is not how things work here. If she insists on the charade, she might as well use Betty. What difference will it make?”

  “Max?” Zamatryna said. “What difference would it make? According to this story you aren’t telling us? What happened, in that story?”

  Macsofo looked down at his bowl. “In that story, the person seeking the Necessary Beggar sought someone he knew, someone he loved. And it all went wrong. And the Necessary Beggar—the Beggar died.”

  “He killed her,” Zamatryna said quietly. “It’s Darroti. It was Darroti and Gallicina, wasn’t it? They were in love. I knew it.”

  “He didn’t kill her,” Macsofo said. “She killed herself, and he took the blame. He believed it was his fault.”

  Timbor was shaking his head. “What? What? They didn’t know each other. They never knew each other! She was nobility! How—Macsofo, did Darroti tell you this? When?”

  “During my, what does Lisa call them, my DTs,” Macsofo said sadly. “Last week.”

  “W hat?” Erolorit said. “You are mad. Those are not real. They are hallucinations. You saw snakes, also.”

  “The snakes were quite real, brother, believe me. Even if you could not see them.”

  “No, Macsofo, I do not believe you. I do not believe—”

  “I believe him,” Zamatryna said. “I believe him because Jerry’s been having dreams, too.”

  Harani squinted at her. “Jerry has been dreaming about Darroti and Gallicina?”

  “No. Not exactly. He’s been having dreams about—about us. The family. About Lémabantunk, and how we got here, and the camp. He knows things he couldn’t possibly know, things I never told him. That’s why—that’s how—well, that’s why we decided to get married. Part of it.”

  “Because he is the only person you can talk to about what is most important to you,” Macsofo said.

  She shivered. “Yes. Exactly.”

  Max nodded. “Just as Darroti was the only person Gallicina could talk to about her dream of being a Mendicant. Little Zama—be careful. Because if
you do this right, if you fix the story, if it comes out right this time, it will be a blessing indeed. But if you do not, we will be cursed anew.”

  “Great,” she said in English, her mouth dry. “Terrific. Thanks a lot. No pressure.”

  Timbor put his hands flat on the table. “I do not understand. Darroti is dead. How can he—”

  “Ghosts,” Zamatryna said. Should she tell them about Gallicina? But Gallicina had never stopped commanding silence. Be careful, Macsofo had said. “Grandfather, the dead can speak to the living, here. There was never a Great Breaking, I guess. Anyway, people here see ghosts. Some people.”

  “Ghosts speak in dreams?” Timbor said. “In dreams? Like the dreams I have been having since—since—but I thought they were just dreams. I—”

  “Of course you did,” Zamatryna said. “You’re from Lémabantunk. Look, can I marry Jerry, please? Are we all agreed on that much, at least?”

  “What else do ghosts do?” Timbor said. “Do they weep into towels?”

  “What?” Erolorit said. He looked at Timbor. “Is that thing still wet?”

  “Yes. It has never dried. I did not tell you because, well, it was too strange and I was afraid that Stan would think it was the Devil, and—maybe it is. I do not know. Do ghosts weep?”

  “Darroti’s does,” Zamatryna said. She suddenly felt absurdly cheerful, the way she had when she heard about Aliniana’s ridiculous affair. She felt like laughing. “Darroti’s ghost cried on my face so Jerry would wipe the tears off and kiss me.”

  “What?” Timbor shook his head again, like an animal trying to rid itself of fleas. “When?”

  “This morning. That’s—well, it’s sort of what started all this. Look, Darroti evidently wants me to marry Jerry, right? So can the rest of you get on board? For Darroti’s sake? Because we want to make Darroti happy, don’t we? Oh, Grandfather, please don’t cry—”

  “How can I help it? How can you expect me not to cry? And I still cannot believe—Macsofo, you must tell me the entire story. About Darroti.”

  “I will, Father. I was not sure I believed it myself, until now.”