by J. R. Mabry
“It’s…broken glass,” she said.
“Not just any broken glass,” Marco said.
Kat’s breath caught. “It’s Randy,” she said. Susan saw her bite her lips against the emotion rising up in her.
When they had returned to the Abbey from Alameda, the place had been trashed. It was impossible to tell who had broken in or why, but there was not much in the house that had been left unmolested. Furniture had been smashed, along with a good number of dishes. The sacristy cupboard had been looted, leaving only a single pottery chalice with which to say mass. The monstrance and several of the relics and “sacred tchotchkes,” as Marco called them, had been stolen or destroyed. But thankfully there had been no structural damage—nothing that trash bags, Lysol, and a toolkit couldn’t put right.
But none of that had mattered much. What had broken Susan’s heart had been the sight of Kat approaching what was left of the mirror that had once held her brother. It had been shattered into thousands of shards, scattered from one side of the kitchen to the other.
Kat had been inconsolable. Even though she knew her brother was an unpleasant person, even openly hostile most of the time, she had loved him. She had always struggled with him—with his reclusiveness, his Asperger’s, his involvement with the Lodge of the Hawk and Serpent—but she had loved him, too. It had been terrible to watch him fade out, but it had been worse to see the only vehicle for his existence smashed beyond repair, beyond any hope of restoration.
Kat’s hand went to her mouth. “What’s it for?”
“Uh…” Marco’s eyes flitted back and forth between Susan and Mikael, as if entreating them for a little help.
“It’s a beautiful memorial, Marco,” Susan said. “If we had Randy’s ashes, we’d put them in an elegant urn. But we don’t have ashes—”
“We have glass,” Mikael said, nodding. “It’s not a gravestone, honey, but it’s something to visit.”
Kat swallowed. She nodded. “It’s lovely, Marco.” Her voice was thick and it cracked as she spoke. “Thank you.” She wiped her eyes.
“You’re welcome, Catnip.”
Kat extricated herself from her bench and caught him in a hug.
“Let’s find a good place for that,” Mikael said, freeing his legs from the table and pointing toward the staircase. Kat nodded and reverently carried the box upstairs with Mikael close behind.
Just then the screen door slammed open as Mike rushed into the kitchen and out the other side toward the chapel, squealing. Not far behind him was Chicken, wearing a cape and goggles and carrying a plumber’s wrench, shouting, “I’ll get you with my demon-smasher!” She, too, raced out of the room.
“It’s going to be a little different around here,” Marco said.
“It already is,” Susan smiled, taking another sip of her tea.
“Demon-smasher…” Marco stroked his chin, looking at the ceiling.
Once they had returned to the house, one of the biggest problems they’d faced had been how to house the children. The old farmhouse was large, but the rooms were spoken for. In the end, they’d decided to build an addition, and until that was done Chicken and Sophie would share the guest room, while they moved a cot into Richard’s room for Mike.
None of them had expected to have children, but after a couple of weeks it seemed impossible to imagine the place without them. They all knew there would be beaurocratic nonsense to sort out down the line, but it would take months before any of the city agencies actually got around to them, and they’d have their ducks in a row before then.
The screen door banged again as Sophie came through it, carrying herself with a superior air. She rolled her eyes, “Kids.”
Susan almost spit her tea back into her cup.
“Hey, that reminds me, I’ve been working on something I want to show the kids,” Marco said, following Sophie out of the kitchen.
“Ah…quiet…” Susan said to herself, and closed her eyes as she took another sip.
“Don’t get too used to that,” Brian’s voice invaded her solitude. He lowered an armful of dishes into the sink.
“I’m just taking my peace where I can find it,” Susan sighed.
“Things are almost back to normal,” Brian said.
“I’m not sure things will ever be normal. For instance, you’re not going to be cooking for us—”
“Sure I will,” Brian said. “I’ll just be away more. Besides, I don’t just cook for you. I do it for my soul.” He cocked his head, considering. “You know, I’ve never thought of it before, but now that I’ve found my work, it kind of frees me up to enjoy cooking as my art.”
“I like that,” Susan kissed his cheek.
“But it’ll still never be normal. I mean, there’s the kids…” He paused and considered. “Do you mind the kids?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve never thought of any of us as breeders, but it somehow seems fitting that there should be kids in the Abbey at our age. It’s like Martin and Katie filling the Augustinian monastery with their own kids. It was unheard of at the time, but oddly fitting for them. And for us, I think.”
Brian smiled. “I think so. Terry’s gotten pretty attached to Chicken.”
“So have I. We just need to establish some discipline and a new division of labor around here. No thanks to some of us…” she growled.
“Are you talking about Dylan?” Brian asked.
“He spoils them rotten,” Susan folded her arms and shook her head.
“You know, you might want to rethink that air of moral superiority,” Brian said. “I’ve seen the can of cream cheese frosting you keep in the back of the fridge. Now that Dylan is…allergic, you’re the addict in the family.”
Susan went white and looked away. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Then her face became hard and mean and she looked Brian in the eye. “You don’t seriously think you’re going to live here and do that…Forerunner stuff on us, do you?”
“Why, because calling bullshit on the rest of us is your job?”
Susan looked away again. “I deserved that,” she admitted.
“Look,” Brian said, touching her elbow, “don’t be afraid. I know very well that little white lies are the lubricant that keep families from utterly imploding on a daily basis. Terry and I have been together too long for me to think otherwise. I’m not going to call out the little stuff. Mikael didn’t become insufferable once he got that Talisman of Amitiel, did he?”
“No, but he’s Mikael,” Susan said.
“And I’m…?”
“A total sweetheart,” she rose and kissed him on the cheek. “Most of the time.”
Brian chuckled. “A Jewish mother has to set boundaries sometimes.”
“She does indeed.”
“And it will be useful to have two of us around who know when someone’s lying—we often work in two teams.”
“We are, you’re right. I just…have to live with both of you.”
“We all have to live with each other.” Brian hugged her. “Thank God.”
“Thanks be to God,” she rejoined, returning his hug.
The doorbell sounded. “That must be Maggie,” Brian said, looking at his watch.
“Do you need any help with dinner?”
“No, everything’s prepped. We’ll just snag it from the fridge and throw it on the grill when folks get hungry.”
“Okay, but you let me know.”
“I will. Go see Mags. I’m going to do some cleanup here.”
Susan put her cup in the sink and squeezed his elbow briefly. Then she stepped briskly through the door, crossed the chapel, and opened the door.
“Maggie!” she said, throwing open the screen door. “We hoped it was you.”
“Thank you, love,” she said, handing a bottle of wine to Susan before squirming out of her jacket. Susan shut the door behind her and shouted for all the house to hear, “Maggie!”
Soon, she heard footsteps on the front stairs that could only be Richard. He d
ucked to avoid hitting his head as he stepped into the living room and gave Maggie a bear hug. “Good to see you, Maggie,” he said.
“And you, Dicky.”
Susan heard a wail.
“I’d better investigate that…” She took off for the living room.
Richard watched her go, but she was quickly replaced by Dylan.
“No snacks yet?” he asked. “If God is just, there oughta be snacks.”
“How’s the eye, Captain Bligh?” Maggie asked as she hugged him.
“Weird,” Dylan said. “Sometimes it hurts an’ there’s nothin’ there to hurt,” he said.
“Yes, I’ve heard of that. It’s like the phantom limb thingy.”
“Ah guess.”
“Can I offer you some wine, Maggie?” Richard asked.
There were a couple of bottles and several glasses on the credence table mere steps away.
“Red, please. Something with enough oak and tannin to punch you in the kisser.”
“Coming right up, then.”
After he handed her a glass, he took Marco’s spectacles out of his pocket. “I don’t think you’ve seen these.”
“Oh! Joseph Smith’s magic spectacles.”
“How did you know?”
She narrowed one eye at him but didn’t answer. “What about them?”
“These are really helpful at night—you can see anything, as if it were noon. You can even see things that are normally invisible—”
“Like what?” Dylan asked.
“Like demons, for one thing,” Richard answered.
“Why would you want to?” Dylan asked.
“Well, it’s good to see what you’re up against.”
Dylan nodded. “Ah suppose. Scary, though.”
“During the day, though, it’s so bright I can hardly stand to wear them.”
Maggie took a sip of her wine and made a face.
“Too much?”
“No…just savoring.”
“It looks like it was too much.”
“I get to savor any way I want.”
“Fair enough,” Richard said.
“My guess is that the light that the spectacles reveal is cumulative. Remember that Joe Smith used to only wear them when he had his face buried in a hat. It’s dark in a hat.”
“That there is the voice of experience,” Dylan pointed at her. “She sounds like she’s spent some time in a hat.”
“You are a silly man.”
“Lovable, though.”
“Let me see them.” Maggie stuck her hand out.
Richard removed them from his pocket and traded them for her wine glass. Taking them up in her deformed hands, she removed her own glasses and put on the spectacles. She squinted. “Oh! Yes, I see what you mean.” She turned around, taking in the room. Then she removed them and handed them back to Richard, replacing her own glasses and taking back her wine. “It’s a negative filter, is all.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that none of us can take in everything around us, so our brains filter things out. It’s why autistic folks have such a hard time—they have faulty filters, and so they are simply assaulted by information. The information is always there, we just have it filtered down to a manageable level. Those specs are a negative filter—they counteract the filter that we naturally employ and show us what is always there.”
“And what’s that?” Dylan asked.
“The glory of God, of course,” Maggie smiled. “Everything is awash in it. We just don’t see it. But it’s surrounding and upholding everything all the time. Even when the demons were aprowl the light was undiminished—it upholds and fills them, too, you know.”
“God’s glory fills the demons, too?” Dylan looked shocked.
“Of course. They would wink out of existence if it didn’t.” Maggie turned to Richard and as an aside said, “He is a silly man.”
“Ya have’ta admit it’s counter-intuitive.”
Brian approached and put a tray of cheese and crackers on the altar.
“But why would God bother with the demons?” Dylan persisted.
“God help us all if God’s favor turned on or off like a light switch based on whatever it was we were doing,” Maggie answered, reaching for a cracker. “You might think glory is something you can bring on yourself, but it isn’t. It is always and only a gift.”
“Maggie,” Brian cocked his head, “Is that why, up in the sephirot, you said everything was beautiful, even in the midst of all that destruction?”
“It was,” she smiled at him warmly. “I was just seeing it as it was, rather than as it seemed. Unlike most of you poor sods, I don’t need corrective lenses like those.” She pointed at Richard’s pocket.
Just then they heard a squeal, the sharp retort of a child’s voice, and much urgent “shush”-ing. Richard raised an eyebrow and crossed the foyer into the living room.
“Why does Chicken get to go first?” Sophie crossed her arms defiantly. Mike stood beside her and seemed to be a little in awe of Marco.
“Because Chicken asked first,” Marco explained. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor by the window. In front of him, Tobias seemed to be fast asleep in a spot warmed by the late afternoon sun. Richard saw his legs twitch and his lips move in response to some somnambulistic impulse. Susan stood by, hands on her hips, not looking at all sure about what she was hearing.
Marco picked up something that looked like a Victorian blinder for a stereoscopic viewer. Instead of the holder in front of it, however, where the postcards would be, was a mass of electronics that looked to Richard as if they grew cancerously rather than by human design.
“Is that safe?” Susan asked, looking worried.
“Of course it’s safe.”
“Gimme,” Chicken said, reaching for the contraption.
“Wait, let me explain first,” Marco swung sideways to avoid her grasping fingers. “If you’re quiet and patient, then you can go inside Toby’s head and see what he’s dreaming.” Marco looked up at Susan and gave her a wink.
Richard reached out and squeezed Dylan’s arm. “Whoa boy,” he said. “It was innocent.”
“Like hell,” Dylan whispered. “He’s after mah woman. An’ after mah accident, Ah ain’t as pretty as Ah used to be.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you were never pretty, Dylan.”
“Yore taste just don’t run to Melungeons is all. Yore loss.”
Marco fitted the viewer onto Chicken’s head, adjusting a leather strap to keep it tight.
“It’s not fair,” Sophie objected.
“It’s not not fair,” Mike reasoned. “Someone has to go first.”
“You just like her,” Sophie accused.
Mike didn’t answer, but his grin said it all.
“Now, Chicken, I want you to go into vision.”
“How do I do that?” Chicken’s grin was superhumanly wide.
“Imagine you are going into a movie theater. Can you do that?”
Chicken gave her big, loopy nod.
“Woah, less enthusiasm please, or you’ll buck off the electronics.”
“Sorry,” Chicken said, her smile undiminished.
“Can you see the theater?”
Chicken gave a more restrained nod.
“Now, go toward the big screen. As you get closer, you’ll see some stairs that will lead you up onto kind of a stage where the screen is. Do you see it?”
Nod.
“Good. Now, go through the little curtain off to the side of the screen. Now you are backstage, and you see the back of the movie screen.”
“It’s dark…” Chicken breathed. “And dusty.”
“You are in exactly the right place then. Look at the back of the screen. Near the bottom you’ll see two things. The biggest thing is Toby, sleeping on the floor—”
“What is he doing there?” Chicken asked. She seemed a little concerned.
“Sleeping, of course,” Marco answered. “Now, look at the
bottom of the screen. There’s a cord running from it, and at the end of the cord is a little plug.”
“It looks like a black snake,” Chicken breathed.
“That’s the one. Now pick it up and find the plug at the end. Got it?”
Chicken nodded.
“Okay, now look at Toby’s head. At the back of his skull you’ll find a port—a little place that you can slide the plug into. It will fit perfectly. Just slide it in there—”
“Oh for crying out loud,” Susan looked impatient.
“Just go with it.” Marco shot her a warning look.
Susan shook her head. She might be incredulous, Richard noted, but she was not unamused.
“Did it fit?”
Chicken nodded.
“Okay, now I’m going to switch on the viewer. You’ll hear a little whine from the electronics, and you’ll see a flicker for a moment, but then you should be able to see what Toby sees.” Marco reached over and flipped a toggle switch on the side of the viewer.
Chicken’s face lit up and her mouth dropped open.
“Okay, Chicken, now tell me what you see.”
“I see a lot of green grass—it’s a big, big yard.”
“Like a park?”
“Yeah, only nice.” Marco scowled in non-comprehension, but Susan understood. She had certainly seen her share of Oakland parks. “The sun is out,” Chicken continued, “but I can’t see everywhere. It’s misty—”
“Toby’s brain is only generating pictures for the part that he’s paying attention to. If you pay attention to something else, it won’t be there. Just stick with what Toby is seeing.”
“Okie-Dokie,” Chicken agreed.
“Now there’s lots and lots of other dogs. They’re jumping up and down and playing.” The smile on her face was precious. Richard wished he had a glass of wine.
“There’s this one dog…Toby is sniffing at his butt—”
Susan rolled her eyes.
Chicken looked alarmed. “There’s something wrong with his butt! It’s really big and puffy and kind of red…and the dog is looking back at Toby and his tail is wagging in a weird way. And now Toby is…” Chicken cocked her head. “Playing leap-frog…or piggie back…I don’t know what Toby is doing to that other dog.”
