Mending the Past

by Avery June Ligon

As she walked past her kitchen table, she saw the card and stuck it into her bag next to her underwear and passports. Then out of habit, she put the phone away. There was a pad of paper and pen there, and she realized she needed to leave a note for Ed. She pulled the wedding band from her pocket and set it on the table. She wrote a quick note and left it by the ring.

  Dear Ed,

  I cut off only my ring finger. Seems like a sign. I’m taking the baby with me. There’s food for a couple of days in the fridge. I need some time to think. Talk to you soon.

  Love, Jet

  Jet and the baby took a cab to the hospital, where Jet told the doctor she hadn’t been able to find her finger. When she had been stitched and bandaged, and prescribed a pain killer and antibiotic, she was taken for her MRI.

  Chapter 6 Pregnant and High

  When Maggie was pregnant with Jet she and her husband Sam lived in an informal commune in the foothills of the Sierra. The commune consisted of a garden, a car, and a truck. The people helped build each others homes. Maggie and Sam lived in a trailer backed up to a yurt. Within the context of their community, their home was huge.

  Maggie and Sam had people over and were smoking the marijuana they’d grown. Maggie, who was both very pregnant and very high, started talking about an Armenian aunt who made dolmas with the grape leaves from her own backyard. The word dolmas sent her friend, Juanita, in search of a book of Tibetan art she’d been given by a stranger at a Grateful Dead show.

  While Juanita walked to her teepee and back, Maggie started a campfire and the batter for a pineapple upside down cake. Juanita came back with the book open to a sculpture of Jetsun Dolma. The two women sat down and flipped through the photos and temple diagrams, and ate cake. They giggled about the boobs and hips on the sculptures. They smoked another bowl and ate still more cake. When they found themselves looking again at that first picture of of Jetsun Dolma, they decided her name would be really nice for a girl.

  Chapter 7 Breakdown

  When Ed read Jet’s note he sat down. Then he got up. Then he sat down. He got up again, walked to their bedroom and sat on the bed. When he moved next, rather than getting up, he sank further. From the floor he made his way to the mirror on the closet door. He didn’t just look in it, he got up close. He examined every pore and every wrinkle, his eyeballs, the inside of his nose, his hairline, tonsils.

  He didn’t go to work for the next three days. On the third day the people who worked for Ed started to worry. That night a call was made from the offices of Mae Shipping to the top floor of the north tower at the Mae family home.

  When the phone rang, Mrs. Mae moved away from the telescope, which had been pointed toward the ocean since the day it was set on its tripod. Mr. Mae used to watch shipments come and go on his boats and now Mrs. Mae did the same. She picked up the phone.

  “Eddie? How are you? How’s the baby? Do tell me you’ve named him,” said Mrs. Mae.

  “Oh, excuse me. I was sure you were my son. He always calls on Wednesday evening.”

  “He hasn’t been to work in three days?”

  “Hasn’t called?”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Mae hung up the phone and pushed a button on her desk.

  “Luisa. Meet me in the garage.”

  Mrs. Mae ran her palm down the line of buttons on her blouse as she collected herself and walked to the door.

  Chapter 8 Jet to Rome

  To the dismay of their neighbors, the baby spent the first hour of the flight enjoying the sound of his voice. Jet tried to distract him with the bright, shiny pictures in a magazine. It worked for a couple of minutes. Then he started squealing with delight at each new picture, and slapping at the pages. Jet put the magazine back into the seat back where she’d found it, and helped the baby stand to look at her. He lunged opened mouthed at her nose, which made Jet squeal in surprise. Fortunately, the man next to her, while childless, did have a sense of humor, and laughed.

  By the time Jet was about half way over the Atlantic she realized she’d left home for a country that spoke a language she didn’t, was equipped with only a diaper bag, and a promise from a man whose name she didn’t even know. Worse still, she was weighed down by her own nameless baby, and an injury. She shook the growing doubt out of her head before it could swell to panic and reminded herself that she was heeding a sign. Why didn’t I just call my mom? Or visit my parents for the weekend? She decided that since she was already on a plane that it would be better to focus on what she’d do next, instead of second guessing her previous decisions. So she told herself that she was embarking on a journey of self-discovery. She found herself hoping she wouldn’t discover she was rash and stupid. Stubborn? Definitely stubborn. Jet sighed, and the man sitting next to her opened an eye.

  Jet was so relieved that the baby had fallen asleep that she was afraid to move. She spent hours being as still as possible, dozing when she could, and looking at her baby when she couldn’t. By the time the flight landed her body was aching from staying still. She pulled the diaper bag over her shoulder, and gathered her warm, soft bundle of baby into her arms. She was almost excited to wait in line at customs and immigration. At least she’d get to stand.

  When she stepped out of the airport, she was disappointed to feel like the same woman. She hadn’t found a well of energy springing from her independence, nor had she matched her discontent at home with any particular incidents in her life. She was sure though that she needed to wash her face and change her clothes. She hailed a cab.

  Jet extracted the address she’d scribbled down at the hospital and handed it to the driver. He nodded and Jet rolled down her window. The night air was thick. She tried to imagine Ed. Was he wondering where and when their relationship had gone so wrong that his wife would hurt herself and not want him there for comfort? She felt the bandaged stub of her finger and looked at the baby in her arms. She took a deep breath and thought it had just rained, or that maybe she could smell the Tiber.

  The baby was wide awake at 4:30 in the morning, blowing raspberries in Jet’s face, when they arrived at the flat. “You silly little creature,” she cooed as she neatened the baby’s hair. She changed her clothes and the baby’s diaper. The baby launched into a flurry of rapid kicking and looked to see if his mom was suitably impressed. Jet told him he was tricky. The baby loved being tricky. He began an even more enthusiastic series of kicks.

  They played together, where Jet could see out the third floor window. She was waiting for light, for people to start walking in the street below. When that happened she would grab the baby and diaper bag, and leave in search of coffee. By afternoon she wanted to be on the Capitoline Hill telling the baby about the palace that had overlooked the Circus Maximus. She wanted to take him to the Colosseum, and if he understood nothing that she told him, well, that would be all right. She would resort to animal noises, and frightened gladiator faces. Her travel partner would appreciate that.

  Jet’s mind wandered from the past to the present. She did her best to recall everything she’d ever heard about ancient Rome. She remembered a history book aimed at children that had occupied rainy afternoons of her childhood. She poked at the stub of her finger to see how much a little pressure hurt. She tried to imagine herself climbing. The nameless man would arrive in a few days. She wondered what he might be expecting of her, and tried to imagine why he wanted to employ a climber.

  Chapter 9 Lies, Thievery and Disconnection

  Luisa and Mrs. Mae sat in silence as they drove away from the house. Luisa enjoyed the view, and how alive the woods seemed. Full of squirrels and birds. The weather had been nicer the last couple of days, which had made Luisa feel happier about her life on the ground floor of Castle Dracula.

  Luisa waved at KRS as she drove through the gate. How had he managed the week of cold and rain in his tiny stone house? He must have been lonely. She glanced in her rear view mirror. KRS was talking on the phone. Luisa felt embarrassed as she realiz
ed that it hadn’t been KRS she was worried about. It’s me, she thought. I’m the lonely one.

  Luisa looked at Mrs. Mae out of the corner of her eye. Mrs. Mae was running her hand down the buttons of her shirt. Luisa had driven Mrs. Mae to Edward’s empty home last night, and the night before. Mrs. Mae seemed to be growing more anxious with each day. This evening she was snapping directions at Luisa in a much louder voice than necessary. They were, after all, in the same car. When they arrived at Edward’s house Mrs. Mae bid Luisa to park and stay in the driver’s seat.

  Mrs. Mae left the car, glanced skyward, and walked to the house. She rang the doorbell knowing that this might lead to her having to speak to her daughter-in-law. She might even need to ask her daughter-in-law a question. She allowed herself one grimace, then composed herself, and waited. She rang the bell again, and waited. No answer.

  Inside, Ed sat with his face against the wall. He tried to focus on its temperature and texture of the wall. Instead, he thought about his wife’s body. The way she’d force him to order for her if the menu was in French. He tried to remember in exact detail the suspicious look the baby had given him the first time they’d seen each other. Ed almost smiled. He heard the doorbell ring, and moved his head a little, but closed his eyes. He thought of the baby and how his legs had been able to bear his weight from the day he was born. He tried to think of the color green, but he could only picture something close to black. The doorbell rang again. Still, he didn’t move. The person he wanted to see had a key.

  * * * * *

  KRS made certain that Mrs. Mae was in the car as he waved at Luisa, and then he picked up the phone to call Steward.

  “Hello KRS.”

  “Hi. She just left.”

  “Great. I’m going to need, oh, I’d say about a half an hour to be back in my room. About 20 minutes to be out of hers. I’ll call you when I’m done. If they get back first, then you call me. And, I’ll need you to stall them.”

  “I know. I’ll see what I can do.” KRS paused then said, “I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “You’re not going to lose your job. Call me the second you see her car.”

  “Okay.”

  Steward had been waiting for that call in the room above his office. He was already wearing his gecko suit and goggles. He dropped his phone into a pack at his side, put the pack on, and cinched it tight to his body.

  It was early evening, and lighter than Steward would’ve liked. He squatted on a window sill and looked down. “This just doesn’t get easier,” he said as he examined the treetops obscuring the hard ground. He took a deep breath and climbed out the window. He descended two floors to the red tiled roof as quickly as he dared. If only he could have convinced KRS to turn off the security cameras. He knew, though, that KRS was right. If Eileen ever found out, KRS would lose his job and Steward needed KRS where he was. It didn’t hurt that KRS also liked where he was. Besides, I need practice climbing Steward thought, but didn’t feel convinced.

  As Steward crawled along the peak, he visualized the rooms below. He was above the room where Ed had cut his hand. He crawled on. He passed over the spot where he’d watched Eileen walk to Ef on their wedding day. Behind him was the room where Melissa had taken off her dress. Now, he was over Ef’s childhood bedroom. The memories held back images of his lifeless body on the ground. When he reached the north tower he stood and looked to the top.

  Climbing up seemed easier to Steward than going down, and so by that measure he was almost there. He was feeling pleased with his progress when his phone rang. Steward groaned. They’re fast, or I’m slow, or maybe both. I’ll just call Jet and tell her there’s been a delay. Her finger could use the time to heal. He looked back at the south tower. Stop making excuses. Besides, Eileen would be able to see me climbing back up. Almost there.

  * * * * *

  They came back sooner than the last two nights, KRS thought as he saw Mrs. Mae’s car approaching. He picked up his phone and called Steward. No answer. He must still be working. KRS pulled a pair of binoculars from his drawer. He could see pieces of the top half of each tower through the trees. He scanned both, but didn’t see Steward. The car was almost to his gate. He was about to put the binoculars down when he saw movement on the north tower. Maybe he was seeing leaves moving in the breeze, or maybe it was Steward climbing. The car was almost to the gate. KRS felt his heart beating in his chest. Calm down, he told himself. He threw his binoculars back into the drawer. You, at least, are standing on the ground.

  When Luisa pulled up to the gate she was surprised to see KRS walking toward them. He waved, and flashed an ear-to-ear smile. “My button’s broken,” he said. “I’ll need to let you in the old fashioned way.” He held up a chain of key rings, each link held a cluster of keys, and started searching.

  “Good grief,” Luisa said. “Why does he have so many keys?” She wasn’t expecting an answer. Mrs. Mae had been silent since she’d returned to the car.

  “He’s in charge of securing the entire grounds,” Mrs. Mae said, her eyes never leaving the woods. “That almost always means sitting here, but there are unused gates around the perimeter, the doors to the house, and those on the inside. Also, there are keys to the display cases for the collection.”

  Luisa watched KRS fumbling through his keys, trying one here, another there. She looked at Mrs. Mae, who was still looking out the window. Luisa decided that Mrs. Mae didn’t want her thoughts disturbed, and that, if KRS was ever going to find the right key, she would need to impose a system, so she got out to help.

  She was on the wrong side of the gate to do much, but she made KRS start from one end of the chain and work through, and when he forgot he’d already tried a key, Luisa told him.

  “Oh, thank you. I must be growing forgetful in my old age.”

  Luisa looked at KRS. He looked about her age. “I hope not,” she said. “I’m not ready for that stage of my life.”

  KRS dropped the chain of keys twice. Even with Luisa’s help it took a long time to recover the point where he’d left off. KRS seemed nervous. Well, his boss is waiting in the car, and he’s taking forever, she thought. Luisa glanced again at Mrs. Mae. “She’s been lost in thought since we left her son’s house,” she said. “It’s like she’s somewhere else.” Luisa hoped this would help, but KRS still looked afraid.

  * * * * *

  Steward had reached the fifth floor windows of the north tower. He pressed his palm against a pane of glass and pulled. The window flew open bringing Steward with it. He’d been expecting it. He gasped anyway. He scrunched his right hand against the stone tower and relaxed the left to be free of the glass. He flopped the top half of his body through the window and onto the floor. He slowed his breathing, and felt his heartbeat follow.

  The room had changed since he was last there. Once there’d been a small table, near the railing that protected the void through which the stairs descended. Now, a bed replaced the table and chairs, and an elevator had taken over the center of the room. A shame, he thought. At odds with the architectural theme. Lazy, and it interrupts the view.

  Steward scanned the room. It was there. He set his pack on Eileen’s desk to unzip it. He pulled out a green cylindrical stone with a rounded top. On Eileen’s desk a stone the same size and shape held down a pile of papers. At the top of the stack was a list of items that needed tending to. Shameless.

  Steward switched the stone in his backpack with the one on the desk. He held this new stone aloft in his open palms, stretching to catch the last rays of the setting sun. The stone swallowed the offering, and its natural facets and imperfections came alive. It spilled blue-green across Steward’s hands and into the room. The light danced with bright lines of refraction on the floor and furniture. “Beautiful,” Steward breathed, “like pond water under a microscope.” He lowered the stone. The north tower’s observation room grew darker. It became a place of sadness for Steward. Full of reminders of opportunities lost and family gone. Full of a big, ugly elevator. S
teward gave the room a final look, and then tucked the largest Afghan emerald ever pulled from the earth into his backpack, and retraced his steps.

  * * * * *

  Luisa heard KRS’s phone ring inside of his little stone house. He didn’t answer it, but it seemed to trigger his memory.

  “Now I remember. I keep the key to this gate by itself in a special drawer,” he leaned toward Luisa and whispered, “because it’s so important.”

  He walked to his little house, held his chain of keys up, picked a tiny key from the center of a cluster, and unlocked a drawer. He set the bundle of keys to the side, and brought the single key out to unlock the gate.

  “Here you go. Sorry, it took such a long time.”

  “That’s all right,” Luisa said. “Thank you.”

  She hopped into the car. KRS held the gate open and ushered Luisa through with a bow.

  * * * * *

  Steward sat on the peak of the roof with his back against the north tower. He’d put his feet through the pack’s straps and then suctioned his feet to the roof tiles. It was from this position that he’d called KRS and it was in this position that he intended to stay until it was darker and he was rested.

  Chapter 10 Friend and Father

  Ed and Bud had been friends since Sunday school, and even now that they both had jobs and families they met once a week to play tennis. Bud waited for an hour the first week that Ed missed a match. When he left the bench outside of the tennis court he was disappointed, but understanding. After all, he had a kid too and knew that sometimes parents were so busy they forgot appointments, and leisure time.

  Bud drove home and enjoyed the extra time with his family. He did his best to recreate for his daughter the moments he’d most enjoyed as a child. Over the last few years, Bud had done his best to remember and retell the stories Ed’s uncle Steward had told during sleepovers. Bud had loved those stories. Of course, he didn’t have any props. He tried to make up for this with energy, silliness, and enthusiasm. Steward’s stories had been tales of stolen treasure, and Bud fashioned himself as the thief, or the middleman, but thief was more exciting.