Anastasia's Grail

by Mary Pearson

greenish fragments off the cutting board.

  “Jalopena bits,” Her mother answered without looking up from the newspaper she was reading. “Last night Reecie grabbed one of your grandmother’s fresh loaves and took a bite of it.” She lowered her reading glasses to look at her daughter over the paper. “You know how I feel about waste.”

  Stacy did. Shrugging she popped two slices in the toaster. While she was waiting for it to toast, she sat opposite her mother. “Ummm…” she said, hoping to get her attention.

  “Yes…?” Her mother didn’t look up.

  “I was wondering…” Stacy stopped again, so her mom finally lowered the paper.

  “Wondering what, Dear?”

  “I was wondering, back when you used to have a life, before… “ her voice trailed off again.

  “Before your dad died?” her mother suggested.

  “Yes.” Stacy looked at her hands. “Did you have any—you know—nice dresses?” She looked at her mother hopefully. “I kind of have a dinner to go to tonight and was hoping to wear something…”

  “Special.” Her mother finished the sentence for her. She tilted her head and appraised her daughter. “I might.” She went back to reading again.

  Stacy’s toast had popped. She buttered it, sat down and took a hesitant bite. “It’s not bad,” she commented after swallowing.

  “And it’s very good for your prostate,” said her mother.

  Stacy giggled. Her grandmother made this variety at the request of Uncle George.

  “We can go through my closet after breakfast.” Rose smiled at her daughter. She sighed. “You’re just growing up right before my eyes.”

  After much trying on of dresses, Stacy settled on a simple sleeveless black dress. Cut just above the knee, it made a classic statement with silky black stockings and heels. Stacy rued the loss of her grandmother’s necklace, which would have been the perfect finishing touch, but she made do with a braided gold chain and dangling earrings. Surveying herself critically in the oval standing mirror in her mother’s room, she decided it would do.

  “Guess where I’m taking you?” Darius said, as he pulled away from her house.

  Stacy shrugged. It had better not be Micky D’s with me dressed like this.

  “Chez Herman. You asked about the group I got the gig for. They’re playing tonight. I thought you might enjoy catching the act.” Darius turned the radio on and flipped the channel until he hit the vintage station. Stacy recognized the song that was playing as “Prodigal Lass”, one of the better known songs that Downhill Nikki had recorded.

  “What do you think of these guys?” she asked him. She hoped she didn’t sound nervous.

  “Downhill Nikki?” He changed lanes to avoid a merging minivan. “Who doesn’t like their work?”

  “Right,” she agreed with relief. Inwardly she had been worried that her present might not hit the mark.

  “Too bad it’s impossible to get a ticket to their concert,” he continued. “It’s one I would have liked to have caught. Oh, well.” He shrugged. “Maybe they’ll come out of retirement again sometime.” Pulling into a parking lot he turned off the engine. “Chez Herman.” He gestured to a strangely top heavy building lit up magenta and decorated with flamingos. “Shall we…?”

  The inside was modern and looked newly built. Darius told her that the owners, J and J Herman, had come into inherited money. Both had worked in the hospitality industry and knew their way around the business, so they decided to invest in starting their own. This place served classic dinners. They had been careful to hire excellent cooks and the establishment, though only a few years old, was well-known in the area for its cuisine and cutting edge entertainment. The band Darius had helped to get their foot in the door, Choir Dogs, played semi-orchestral rock music, and was very polished for being newcomers. The place was packed. Fortunately Darius had made a reservation. The band would not begin for another hour and a half, so that gave them plenty of time to enjoy their meal.

  Darius helped her remove her jacket, and Stacy, suddenly feeling self-conscious, asked,”Do I look OK?”

  “You,” Darius assured her emphatically, “would look good in a hefty bag.”

  Stacy ordered a roasted chicken and vegetable linguine and Darius chose the steak. While they were waiting for their food to arrive, Darius, chewing on a toothpick, kept his eyes fixedly on hers. Finally he spoke. “I don’t know what it is about you,” he said this with a sigh. “I’ve never known anyone who played so hard to get… and I’ve never wanted anybody more.” He continued to gaze at her until Stacy was feeling less flattered and more like prey.

  She hastily changed the subject. “Would I know anybody from Choir Dogs? Do they go to our school?”

  “Max Benson is in our grade. The rest are a couple of years out of high school.”

  Stacy knew Max. “I bet I know what he plays.” She could remember him drumming on the chair of her desk in fourth grade when he sat behind her.

  “He’s a fantastic drummer,” Darius said. “Natural rhythm and lots of speed. I think you’ll like the show.”

  Choir Dogs lived up to Darius’ billing. You would have never known they were not already a professional group. Although the music was loud, you could still make out the lyrics of the songs. They had original stuff, along with a few covers. Stacy thoroughly enjoyed herself. She would have to compliment Max when she saw him in the halls.

  There could not be a more complete contrast than between the Choir Dogs concert and the choral concert preceding midnight Mass. They had left the restaurant at 11:15 and arrived a bit into the half hour of music that anticipated the great event that was to come. Not that the church choir wasn’t as good as Choir Dogs, they were just very different. Along with the music, the well-decorated sanctuary was mesmerizing. Stacy felt as though she had stepped into a different world. She vaguely wondered whether Darius had ever been to church and she cast a sidelong glance in his direction. His head was tilted back and he seemed to be drinking in the surroundings. Even the ceiling of the Cathedral was ornate. “This would make a great concert hall!” he whispered.

  Stacy was horrified at the thought. She fondly met the shroud-like eyes of Jesus-Pantocrator. She wouldn’t want some rock band to take over His home.

  The Mass was beautiful, the liturgy and music compelling. There were three priests, along with the Bishop, who showed up as celebrant on every major liturgical feast. The Cathedral was packed, but Stacy hardly recognized anyone there as being from the parish. She vaguely wondered if they were even Catholic, and when everyone in the place got up at Communion-time, she found herself in the shoes of her family back at the conference when they had dissuaded her from going to communion without confession first. She grabbed Darius’ arm and encouraged him to sit back down with her. Sorry, Jesus. She would have to go to communion another time. She couldn’t let Darius enter into something so sacred with no knowledge of what it meant. It wouldn’t be good for either him or Jesus. It just wouldn’t be good.

  After Mass, with her family back home, and presumably sleeping, Stacy and Darius found their way back to the little park where they had built the crazed-looking snowman. He was intact.

  “Mine first,” Stacy said, as she handed him her gift.

  When Darius opened the little box and found Downhill Nikki tickets inside, he whooped and twirled her. “Thank you,” he said, after giving her a big kiss. “I can’t wait to go.” When he handed Stacy a little jewelry box, her heart beat out of control. Could this be…?

  She opened the box with trepidation to find—what was this…?

  She held up a necklace with what appeared to be an odd-shaped pendant. Looking closer, she could see that it had been engraved—only what did it say…?

  Darius reached down the neck of his shirt and pulled out a pendant which was the mirror opposite of Stacy’s. “It only makes sense when they’re together,” he explained, fitting the two pieces together to form a heart. Now it was possible to read the engraving. Stacy
squinted by the light of the street lamp. This is what it read:

  Our love will only be complete

  When our two hearts and bodies meet

  (and on the other side:)

  Until that time I wait

  With baited breath

  “Did you make this?” Stacy held it closer to peer at the writing.

  “I wrote the message and had it engraved for you.”

  Stacy didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “It’s beautiful,” she finally said. After all, it did imply an engagement. He couldn’t be suggesting a mere liaison, he knew how she felt about living together. She hugged and kissed him. “Thank you, Darius.”

  “Merry Christmas, Stace.” They kissed and talked for another half hour before he took her home.

  Everybody liked the gifts Stacy had gotten them, especially Arthur, who had received the holographic Jesus from her and Emily. In the end she had found a sale and had managed to buy Emily a whole outfit. Stacy received cash and gift cards (her mother and Grammy had given up on trying to pick out clothes for the teens), body wash and lotions, jewelry and the like. Her grandmother had given her a 2-CD set of music by an artist named Danielle Rose. It was called Mysteries and contained songs for each of the twenty decades of the full rosary, plus intro and summary songs, and a very haunting and lovely rendition of the Hail Holy Queen prayer.

  “What’s this supposed to mean?” Stacy held up a growling aardvark t-shirt she