The Book of Eleanor

by Nat Burns

  “But why attack you, though?”

  “Jealousy?” I offered.

  She stood and carried her basket into the house. I followed, puzzled by her abruptness. I tossed the remains of my meal in the trash bin and opened my mouth to speak, to ask what was bothering her. She spoke before I could get my words out.

  “I need to work. Need to repair that panel. It has to be mailed out on Monday morning.” The grimness of her mouth put me off.

  I decided to retreat and give her some space. “Sure. I’ll spend some time in the Bookmark, see if I can pick up something,” I whispered.

  “Good idea,” she said, turning and perching on the high stool at the drafting table.

  I retrieved the poetry book from the coffee table. If there were any answers, I believed they were connected to this book somehow. I needed to open to it to see if I could glean some information.

  The Bookmark glowed with a dim ruby sheen from the sunset over the bay. I closed the door to the apartment, but was surprised when Grey snatched the door from my hands.

  “Angie. Be careful,” she said, her eyes searching my face. “If anything happens, call out or make a noise. I’ll hear you, okay?”

  I nodded and laid a palm on her shoulder for reassurance. Nothing penetrated to me through the fabric of her T-shirt, but I could see the poorly hidden concern in her gaze. She pushed the door closed, but left it ajar about two inches.

  I moved into the room and switched on several lamps before taking a seat in an easy chair in one of the conversation areas.

  I have to admit that I had a moment of flashback, remembering the attack of the previous evening. I steeled myself, knowing that running from my fear would be as productive as teats on a boar hog, as my Mama liked to say. Grey could not have a normal life until this issue was dealt with, and as far as I was concerned, the faster life returned to normal, the better.

  I reconsidered my earlier thought. When life returned to normal that meant I would have to return home. Not that home was a bad place, but I was certainly enjoying this rarefied time alone with Grey. The thought of it ending tore at me.

  My hands moved up to touch my throat. This was a dangerous situation. I needed to resolve it somehow, and quickly, before more havoc hurt one of us more permanently.

  Sighing, I placed the book on my knees and scrubbed my palms against my denim shorts. It was time.

  I lifted the book and held it flat between my palms. I took a deep breath and opened to it.

  Grey

  My Anna

  You are

  abandoned

  Forgive my lie

  My love lives on

  Yet I weep

  My world is

  Darkened

  Without your

  Smile

  I decided to jot the poem down on my notepad before I blotted it out of my cartoon strip. Just in case we needed it. I read the phrases line by line as I whited them out with correction fluid. I tried to make sense of them. Someone named Anna had been abandoned, but is still loved by someone who misses her. I wondered suddenly if Mary had had another girlfriend when she was alive. Was she looking for her even after death?

  “What do you think, Ossie? Would Mama Mary have done that to us?” I looked into the cat’s sleepy golden eyes, resting at half-mast, and she twitched her tail at me in answer. “Yeah, I don’t think so either but I have to tell you, I’m a little perplexed by this whole poetry thing.”

  She closed her eyes. I took that as a clear reprimand to get my butt back to work.

  I studied the panel. Part of Mister Marks’s face was obliterated, as well as his thumb, and the outer corner of Suzy’s desk would have to be replaced. Luckily, I hadn’t done shading or background work, or I would have had to redo that whole panel, if not the entire strip.

  I pulled together my tools as I idly wondered what Angie was doing. I shook my head to clear it. Seemed like every other thought was about Angie now. I was getting a little rankled. The best course of action would be to keep her on task until we discovered what it was Mary wanted. That way she could go back to her bewildering life, and I could get on with the business of healing and getting Mary’s Bookmark off the ground.

  I suddenly remembered the grand opening and made a mental note to draw the flyers and put them around town in all the local businesses early next week. Spring break was starting. I hoped to generate a little interest among the college crowd who were used to coffeehouses filled with books—probably a useless endeavor as most of them come to South Padre to stay blitzed out of their minds for an entire week. Still, I counted it a good starting point.

  I turned my attention back to the strip. I’d never had such a hard time focusing on my work. Even after Mary’s death, I had been able to pay attention and get the job done. I chewed my bottom lip. Between Mary’s ghost and Angie’s distracting presence, I wasn’t doing too well.

  I pushed the disturbing thoughts away. Using my ruler, I crafted straight lines that would combine to form the usual backdrop for Sassy Suzy’s office.

  Her office was glassed in, and in the background was a busy secretarial pool full of cubicles and busily moving people. I sketched them in, using well remembered movements to create well remembered characters. Even though the work was repetitious, I still loved cartooning. I liked coming up with clever jokes that fit my characters’ personalities. I liked placing props in strategic locations. I liked the artistic processes of crafting space and time to convey an idea to my readers. I’d discovered nothing else in my life to date that quite matched the satisfaction I gleaned from my chosen profession.

  I opened my watercolors and took my favorite brush from the slotted jar of water on my worktable. I shaded Suzy’s skirt with a subtle wash of color, swiping across each of the five panels for consistency. I tended to stick pretty close to the CMYK color model consisting of cyan, magenta, yellow and black. I usually used a stock cerulean for the blue. I couldn’t reproduce magenta, so I would overlap the blue and yellow when needed.

  I used blue for the skirt, so I chose yellow for the cardigan. Mister Marks’s suit would be my usual blue mixed with some black. I had just finished the last wash of the boss’s suit when I felt eyes on me. I smiled and leaned back.

  “So what do you think? Looks pretty good. You can’t even tell where I had to fix it.”

  When there was no response at all, I suddenly knew it wasn’t Angie behind me. My breath hitched in my throat and I felt adrenaline flood my system. Thankfully, I had closed the dining room drapes, so there was no reflection in the windows to further torment me. I couldn’t turn around, even when the breath coming from my mouth condensed to a white cloud in the frigid, frigid air surrounding me.

  “Please,” I whimpered. “Please go away. I can’t love you like this, Mary. I just can’t.”

  The presence lingered a moment longer, and then thankfully moved away. I heard a volley of unintelligible whispers and a wail before I felt alone again. I slowly turned to the door of the Bookmark and saw jerky movement behind the vertical parting between door and jamb.

  I steeled myself and stepped off the stool. I approached the door cautiously, smelling cigarette smoke.

  “Angie? Everything okay in there?” My voice sounded the way I felt, choked up and terrified. “I just had kind of a…weird...”

  I opened the door and stepped into the Bookmark. The scream ripped from my throat before my mind even registered what I was seeing.

  Down at the end of the room, by the double front doors, Angie floated in midair high off the floor. She was on her back, her head and all four limbs drooping as though she was supported by a thick center post. She was spinning slowly. As her head passed by, I saw her eyes were open and unfocused. Her mouth gaped. Her eyes looked milky.

  I suddenly realized that this beautiful, vibrant woman was dead.

  Eleanor

  “Who is this woman you want me to see?” Robbie asked, walking beside me.

  It was as cold as an undergroun
d tomb. We were both hunkered down in our woolen peacoats, our breath clouding the path in front of us, our hands stuffed in our pockets. New York City wasn’t feeling the cold, however, and the Village was full of pedestrians, as usual.

  “I don’t know her name,” I told him, flicking my cigarette butt into the gutter. “She bartends over at the The Nip. I was reading there last night, and we couldn’t take our eyes off one another.”

  “Did you talk?”

  “Nope, she got off shift, I guess, and didn’t wait around. Pissed me off, but what could I do?” I stepped off the curb at Fortieth and narrowly missed being cut down by a taxicab whose driver wore thick black glasses. “Get a new pair!” I yelled after him. He flipped me the bird. “So you’re reading there tonight too?”

  Robbie nodded and freed a hand to scratch at his short beard. “Gonna read ‘Qualities of Green.’ What are you reading?”

  “I’m reading ‘Loose Stars,’ I think.” I felt to make sure my notebook was still tucked under my arm. “Glad we get a meal out of this one.” My stomach complained loudly.

  “We should, for what they’re paying. Are you staying at Edie’s tonight?”

  I nodded and hitched my collar higher. Thank goodness my short boots were still in good shape, not letting in cold air. I had borrowed a pair of socks from Edie’s drawer and I praised that decision all the way down the street.

  “I’m going home with Franklin and Emmy.” His self-satisfied smile extended all the way to his brown eyes.

  I laughed as we approached the door of The Nip. “They still have the hots for you? You must be pushing all the right buttons.”

  He shrugged and grinned when I opened the door for him.

  ***

  She was there, her thick red hair swept to one side and fastened close to her neck. She wore a black turtleneck and skintight jeans with ballet flats.

  I could see behind the bar from my perch atop the barstool the manager had set up for me on the high wooden stage. I had a hard time focusing on the words I needed to read while I watched her flitting around.

  The spotlight clicked on me. I lifted my gaze to the people sitting at the dozen or so tables. “This one is called ‘Loose Stars.’ Questions after.” I cleared my throat.

  Diamonds fall

  From politician

  Lips

  As lies rise

  And become stars

  On my horizon

  When guns lie

  Snuggled

  Babies die

  Mugged by

  Death and

  Diamonds

  Buy the guns

  Feed them

  Feed them

  inane children

  Open lips

  Taking in

  Stars of Diamonds

  and death

  I bowed my head. The room erupted into busy conversation. A young girl with dark hair and glasses stood up in the dimness. I’d seen her around Columbia, but hadn’t met her.

  “Name?” I asked.

  “I’m Corrine.”

  “Yes, Corrine. You have a question?”

  She squirmed visibly. “I just love your work,” she said. “When Icebox came out, I couldn’t get to the student bookstore fast enough and they only had two copies left. I bought both.” She paused and took in air, clearly embarrassed by her admission. “My question is about your writing process. Do you prefer to write in coffeehouses, out in nature, or at your home?”

  I smiled at her. “Oh, man, thank you for liking my stuff.” I was flattered by her obvious adoration and wanted to give her a good answer. “I usually start a dialogue when we’re all around the table, you know, like talking, and I get some image, you know, and I just follow it. Doesn’t matter where I am. I just follow the muse. Do you write?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, no way, man. Just for school.”

  I nodded my understanding as a young man stood. I answered about six other questions and was just going to signal the spot guy when another question rang out.

  “By children, do you mean actual children, or just the innocence in us that has been lied to for so long?”

  Ah, it was the red-headed barkeep and she got it! She watched me expectantly. I grinned at her. “Exactly!”

  She smiled seductively and I swear I started to salivate.

  Robbie broke my trance. He snapped his fingers repeatedly at me in applause. I moved aside and he took my place on the high stool. He slowly began reading his work. I took comfort from his strong, familiar baritone. I sidled to the bar and lit a cigarette.

  The redhead came over and handed me a drink with a lemon twist. “Sidecar, right?”

  “Cool. You remembered.”

  Her gaze smoldered. “Yes, I did.” She extended a slim, elegant hand. “I’m Annalise.”

  “Eleanor.” I took the hand, finding it cool and smooth.

  “I know,” she said.

  I blushed.

  ***

  Her skin was like alabaster and just as cool and smooth. I dripped cognac on it just to see if I could warm it with the aged brandy. I licked the cognac off slowly, warming her skin with my heated breath. Propped up on her elbows, Annalise watched me with amusement residing in her dusky blue eyes.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Warming you.” I moved lower to the ruddy cleft between her legs. I tipped my glass again and rivulets of brandy became lost in the pale, reddish hair there.

  “Yes, I’m getting very warm,” she gasped, tossing back her head.

  I let my tongue lap the cognac from her pubis slowly, lingering at the hidden folds of delight I found there. She slowly relaxed backward and lifted a slender leg to wrap around my shoulders, making sure I stayed close.

  “Warm me some more, you incredibly sexy woman.”

  I did as I was told, losing myself in her soft folds. My hands moved to tease at the marvelously small nipples on pale mounds of flesh. They grew harder, hotter under my fingertips, and she moaned, whispering my name and her need.

  Soon there was a tempest of heat and fluid. I felt her rise against my mouth. I lowered an arm and held her there firm as I devoured her passion and made it my own.

  Her hands found my hair. She wound her fingers into it, pushing me against her harder and harder until she shuddered into me, my mouth filling with her nectar. I rode her until she stilled then I fell aside, my head resting on her thigh. Her fingers continued to play with my hair as her breathing slowed.

  ***

  “Look what I have for us,” Annalise said, drawing me into the room. I nodded at Clark and Stephen, who were crouched over the coffee table sucking leisurely on a hookah. The rich burnt smell of hash filled my nostrils. I had no time to chat since Annalise pulled me past them and into the kitchen. They laughed and waved as I stumbled by.

  An oddly shaped wine bottle filled with green liquid stood on the counter. Annalise lifted it and fetched two wineglasses from the cupboard. “This is absinthe,” she said in a low, excited voice. “Warren brought it from Germany.”

  I took a seat at the table and examined the oddity. The ornate, beautiful label was written in German. I couldn’t understand much of it.

  Annalise returned with a box of sugar cubes and two spoons which she placed on the table.

  “I’ve never had this. What’s it like?” I asked.

  “I love it. The taste is kinda spicy, minty, but like grass too. You know, like it actually tastes green,” she said with a short laugh. “You’ll either love it or hate it.”

  I nodded with enthusiasm. “Cool, man. Let’s try it.” I watched avidly as she poured several fingers of the crystal green wine in each glass. “I’ve never seen green wine before.”

  She shook her head and fished out several sugar cubes from their yellow box. “It’s not wine, really, it’s like whisky and will get you so loaded.”

  “So it’s strong.”

  She nodded as she placed two sugar cubes in a spoon and then carefully poured hot water fro
m a pan on the stove over them. They dissolved and soon I had my first sip of absinthe. The sugar syrup rested on the surface like a sheen of sweet sweat, glazing my upper lip as the potent liquor warmed my throat and chest. The taste was like licorice, but made more pungent by the high alcohol content. After the first glass, I was feeling no pain and was also emboldened enough to speak my mind.

  “Annalise?”

  “Yeah, baby?” Our hands were entwined on the wooden tabletop as we enjoyed the mellow glow of the green fairy, as she had called it.

  “You know we’ve been together almost nine months now…”

  She smiled dreamily at me. “A perfect nine months,” she added.

  I smiled back at her. “Yes, a perfect nine months. And I’m thinking that maybe we could give that western trip a try. What do you think?”

  “You mean the exodus to Berkeley?”

  “Yes, a change might be nice.”

  “But my job.” She sat back, her eyes searching my face.

  “Well, I…I won’t go without you. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

  She looked at me and smiled her sexy, inviting smile. “But you want to go, don’t you?”

  I looked away, feeling sheepish. “Well, I am tired of freezing every winter, and Abandoned is out and is done making the rounds here in the city. We could take it west.”

  “True,” she agreed. “And I’m tired of the cold too. You know, I could barkeep anywhere, and I could certainly start a new semester out there.”

  I studied her, hoping I’d heard her right. “You mean…?”

  She nodded sharply. “Let’s do it! With you by my side, it’ll be wonderful.”

  ***

  Images of palm trees filled my mind, and of Annalise in one of those new bikini bathing suits. I smiled at my lechery and knew it had been enhanced by the absinthe. As if I hadn’t had enough of her gorgeous body and her absinthe from early evening until four in the morning.

  I glanced at the dim dawning light. Fall was starting and my feet crunched a few early leaf deserters as I made my way up the lawn to cross onto Forty-Second.