Requiem

by Jim Moens

“Of course.” Dennis looked over at Fred, who was whispering something in the ear of a smiling Elena. Dean was apparently quite wrong about Fred.

  Dennis knew this road well, as it was much the same route he took when he and his friends went to the lake to swim. Still, he drove his Ford Fairlane slowly. It was pitch black and nearly silent, the only noise being the chirp of crickets and the crackle of gravel under his tires. He rested his hand on Ayala's thigh (with no protest from her), wishing they were alone.

  “This is it,” she said suddenly.

  Dennis stopped the car, looking around, confused. “You live in the woods?”

  “Just for now. We found a nice campsite,” Ayala said, as her sisters piled out of the back seat.

  “Sorry, just... that's just kind of different than I'm used to,” Dennis said.

  “Maybe something different isn't such a bad thing,” Ayala said. She grasped Dennis' hand and smiled. He leaned forward and gave her a long, lingering kiss.

  “I had a wonderful evening, Dennis,” she said as she pulled away.

  She got out of the car, and after everyone exchanged a requisite “nice to meet you”, the three sisters disappeared into the trees. Dennis sat quietly in his car for a moment, then turned it off and ventured into the woods. His progress was slow through the dark, but he soon reached a clearing. He crouched down behind a bush and watched as the three sisters walked up to a trailer home several yards away.

  A man was crouched down, tending a small fire near the trailer. He stood as the sisters approached, and Dennis could see that he was a big man with thick arms. Andrei Cristescu, certainly. He gave each girl a warm hug. A woman emerged from the trailer. She was small and had long, dark hair. She wore a gauzy skirt and a billowy blouse, much like the three sisters. More hugs were exchanged, and the five of them sat in a circle around the fire. While Dennis couldn't hear what they were saying, the occasional peal of laughter rang out.

  Very different indeed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Coffee Groundz was one one of those funky places where the help always had funky hair, funky tattoos, and a vast array of funky piercings. Avant-garde jazz or trance music usually played in the background. The high ceilings and exposed brick walls added to the urban ambiance. Doug and Rebecca sat across from each other at a small table adjacent to the front window.

  “So I imagine Nick told you how I thought you were his girlfriend,” Doug said.

  Rebecca suppressed a laugh, nearly spitting caramel latte all over Doug's shirt.

  “I'm glad I was wrong,” he said.

  “Thanks,” she said, still smiling. “So listen, I was thinking... these stories of yours that you tell your daughter?”

  “The Xen the Warrior stories?”

  “Yeah. Did you ever think about writing some down... maybe publishing them?”

  “No, I... I never really thought about that.”

  “Well, I think you should do it. You're a natural storyteller. And I think there's a lot to be said for sneaking in a lesson here and there, you know? Kids would love the stories and their parents would love the lessons.”

  Doug didn't say anything and let the idea sink in.

  “What gave you the idea for those stories?” Rebecca said.

  “Ah, Frankie, she... well, she struggles with her self-esteem a little bit,” Doug said. “I grew up on all kinds of geeky stuff like comic books and Power Rangers and Ninja Turtles, so I started her on that too. She was never really into any quote unquote girly stuff anyway, and I don't know...”

  “No,” Rebecca said, “I don't know.”

  “I made up Xen and started telling her the stories. It's like Xen is her own personal superhero.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Like maybe she is Xen in a way.”

  “Yeah,” Doug said. “Yeah, absolutely. Xen is sort of the hero in her. Does that make any sense?”

  “It makes perfect sense. So this Xen is kind of like a ninja character I take it?”

  “Yeah... pretty much.”

  “You know, you should think about getting her into some kind of martial arts classes. I think it would be a good confidence-builder for her.”

  “Maybe. I used to take classes. Years ago.”

  “I have a feeling she'd really dig that,” Rebecca said.

  “So, okay,” Doug said, leaning forward, wanting to move past that particular subject. “I don't have the first clue how to write a book. And then I'd have to get a publisher, right?”

  “Well, first of all, you don't actually have to get a publisher. You can sell books online. Ebooks.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely,” Rebecca said. “A friend of mine from college does that. He's done pretty well for himself, actually.”

  “Then there's the whole 'me not having a clue how to write a book' thing too.”

  “That,” Rebecca said, “I believe I can help you with.”

  “Nice house,” Doug said.

  The house was a large brick split-level situated in one of the better neighborhoods in town. This was in stark contrast to Doug's own house, a small one-story rental in what was decidedly not one of the better neighborhoods in town.

  “Thanks,” Rebecca said. They had reached the front door and she was searching through her purse for her keys. “It's actually our parents’ house. Dad is what is known as a ‘process consultant' and he's usually away and takes mom with. They will be in Singapore until... until April, I think.”

  “Wow,” Doug said. “Very cool.”

  “Here we go,” Rebecca said, and unlocked the door. “Home sweet home,” she said as they stepped inside. “Oh hey, it’s Friday. Let's go downstairs first.”

  They took a few steps down and entered a nicely finished and well-appointed basement.

  “Welcome to the Nerd Cave,” Rebecca said.

  An enormous plasma TV took up much of one wall. Doug noted a PlayStation, an Xbox and a Wii attached, along with a Blu Ray player and surround sound system.

  “Dad spoils us a little bit,” Rebecca said. “I admit it.”

  Nick and three others were seated at a round table in the center of the room. Each of them had some playing cards spread out before them.

  “Hey sis,” Nick said upon seeing Rebecca and Doug. “Wow. First date and bringing him home already. Well done.”

  “Bite me, Nick,” Rebecca said sweetly. “I'm loaning him a couple books.”

  “I see,” Nick said, then to Doug, “What's up, boss?”

  “Nothing much,” Doug said. “What are you guys playing?”

  “Wizard Wars,” Nick said. “You ever play?”

  “A couple times when I was younger. I'm more of an MMO guy. I'm on QuestWorld. Level 120.”

  “Not bad,” Nick said.

  “I suppose I should do some introductions,” Rebecca said. “You know Nick, of course. Right next to him is Tommy.”

  A skinny guy with long hair didn't turn around to greet Doug, but quickly waved.

  “Tommy hates most people and rarely speaks. Please don't take his anti-social tendencies personally. Next to him is Carl.”

  Carl was tall and beefy. He had a shiny bald head and a goatee. “What up,” Carl said and nodded at Doug.

  “Carl fancies himself the resident 'bad dude',” Rebecca said.

  “It is what it is, yo,” Carl said.

  “Yet I will humble him later by kicking his ass playing Vigilante on the Xbox,” Nick said.

  “It's true,” Rebecca said with a shrug. “And next to Tommy is Kevin.”

  “Hiya,” Kevin said. Kevin was the smallest of the bunch, even compared to Nick. His curly hair was in a less than artful state of disarray, some of it falling in front of his glasses. He wore a t-shirt with a large, bold logo for the superhero nanoMan.

  “How you guys doing?” Doug said.

  Tommy, again without turning around, displayed a thumbs up.

  “When do you work again?” Nick said.

  “I work all weekend,” Doug replied.
/>
  “I don't work again 'til Monday,” Nick said. “Maybe we'll cross paths at some point.”

  Rebecca grabbed Doug by the hand. “Having said all that, I have some books to share with Doug.”

  Rebecca the librarian more or less had a library of her own. There were two large bookcases in her room, both of which went almost floor to ceiling.

  “So yes,” she said, as she scanned through the shelves. “I have a love of books. I have since I was a little girl. This, obviously, is how I ended up as an elementary school librarian.”

  Doug stood behind her as she searched. “That's quite a collection.”

  “Yes. I'm well on my way to becoming crazy book lady someday.”

  “There's worse things to be.”

  Rebecca turned around and smiled at Doug. Without so much as a thought, he leaned in and kissed her.

  “Sorry,” he whispered as he pulled away.

  “No, don't apologize,” she said. “That was quite nice, actually.” She turned back to the bookshelves. “Now... what was I doing?”

  “Finding me a couple books about writing, I think.”

  “Of course.” She withdrew two books. One was a thick volume, and when she handed it to Doug, he realized it was quite heavy as well. “That's the textbook from the creative writing class I took in college.” Another book, a much smaller paperback. Zen In the Art of Writing, by Ray Bradbury. “Bradbury, he's just... Bradbury. Just brilliant,” Rebecca said.

  “Thank you,” Doug said, as he thumbed through the Bradbury book.

  “That will get you started,” Rebecca said. “And there's more where that came from. I sometimes thought about being a writer, you know?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I really like what I'm doing right now, though.”

  Doug wondered what that would be like, to enjoy what you do for a living. “Good for you.”

  Rebecca took a step closer to Doug. “You know, I was thinking... if we don't get all carried away, I wouldn't mind a bit if you kissed me again.”

  Doug smiled and did just that.

  “Okay, so we got a little carried away,” Doug said as he put the books in his car.

  “Just a little,” Rebecca said with a grin.

  “So maybe... maybe we can... get carried away again sometime?”

  “I would like that,” Rebecca said with a grin, “very much.”

  Doug kissed her yet again.

  “Good night, Rebecca.”

  “Good night, Doug,” she whispered in his ear.

  Doug hurried home in hopes of catching Frankie before she went to bed. Fortunately, he did. Frankie was sprawled on the living room floor, constructing something from an enormous pile of Legos.

  “Dad!” Frankie said, “I'm making a dinosaur!”

  It was quite the dinosaur... about two feet long and two feet high, made out of a rainbow of multi-colored plastic bricks.

  “Awesome,” Doug said.

  Karen sat at one end of the couch and an unfamiliar woman sat at the other.

  “Doug,” Karen said, “This is Nina.”

  Nina was a tall woman about Karen's age. Her abundance of bracelets noisily clanked together as she stood to greet Doug.

  “It's a pleasure to meet you, Doug. Your mother's told me so much about you.”

  “I bet she has,” Doug said flatly, “but listen, I need to put my daughter to bed, so...”

  Doug's coldness was not lost on Nina.

  “I see,” she said, “certainly.” She turned to Karen. “Monday, then?”

  “I'll see you Monday,” Karen said.

  A curt nod to Doug, and she turned for the door.

  “She has twin boys, about your age,” Karen said to Doug.

  “Frankie,” Doug said, “why don't you get ready for bed?”

  Frankie began picking up her Legos.

  “Leave them,” Doug said, “just go brush your teeth, okay?”

  “Is grandma in trouble?” Frankie said as she headed for the bathroom.

  “Yes she is,” Doug said as he turned his gaze to his mother.

  “She's a good, caring person, Doug,” Karen said.

  “She's a scam artist, Mom.”

  “She's given me excellent guidance.”

  “She tells you what you want to hear. She speaks in these ridiculous generalities, so of course she's never wrong in her amazing psychic predictions. Oh yeah, and Dad tells me you really are spending close fifty bucks a week... sometimes more with her? How much is that a month? How much is that over a year? Dad's on disability and you could get laid off at any time. Plus, she kinda gives me the creeps. You can't keep doing this. You just can't.”

  Karen suddenly fell silent.

  “Bottom line, I don't want this con artist around my child,” Doug said. “And I really want you to stop going to her.”

  “You don't know what it's like, sweetie.”

  “With Dad?”

  Karen nodded. Doug sat down on the couch.

  “I don't know what to tell you, mom. Talk to him. Just talk to him.”

  Karen drew a long, deep breath. “He hasn't been the same since...”

  “Since Megan died?”

  Karen nodded.

  “None of us have,” Doug said.

  They sat in silence.

  “How was your date?” Karen finally said, eager to change the subject.

  “It was really great. I liked her a lot.”

  “So you're going to see her again?”

  Doug broke into a huge grin. “Absolutely,” he said.

  Doug sat in front of his keyboard, fingers poised. No QuestWorld tonight. No Facebook. He had even turned off chat. He thought he might give this writing thing a shot. He had made up so many Xen the Warrior tales, but where to start?

  How about the beginning, he thought. He began to type.

  Dragon Lord wants nothing less than world domination, so he started turning himself into the most powerful of creatures, a dragon itself. While already a powerful and feared warrior, he began to replace his own body with that of a dragon and inject dragon blood into his veins. While this did make him even more powerful, it also began to push him into madness.

  Doug leaned back and read the paragraph over.

  Not bad, he thought. Not bad at all.

  Doug slept fitfully again.

  The man in black stepped out of the shadows. “I know,” the man said to someone who was not there. “Yes, I'll kill him if I have to. Just like the other one.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  1951

  What began as a small dinner party quickly became a special occasion.

  Dennis had put on his finest suit and spit-shined his shoes, as did his father. Helen had gone to the hairdresser just after lunch and put on her favorite cocktail dress. She buzzed about the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the pork roast, mashed potatoes, and green beans almondine. Dennis and David actually pitched in for once, setting the table with the family's finest china and silver.

  The Cristescu family arrived just prior to the appointed hour. Andrei was apologetic in that his “best Sunday shirt” was a bit threadbare at the collar. Helen assured him that was not an issue as she guided them through the Schmidt house and into the dining room. The two families sat around the long, cherry wood dining room table and made small talk as they awaited the last guests. Elena was all but hypnotized by the glass chandelier overhead. David and Andrei talked quarry business and extra shifts.

  It was a special occasion. Dennis was officially introducing Ayala as his steady girl.

  There was a heavy knock at the door. Helen rose to answer, but they heard the door open, followed by murmuring voices and the shuffling of shoes across the hardwood floor. Desmond entered the dining room with Dean in tow. All conversation stopped abruptly and this was not lost on Desmond.

  “Don't stop chatting on my account,” he said. He made his way to his usual seat and sat slowly, his broad tie covering only a little of his expansive gut. Dea
n settled in uneasily next to him, his eyes on Adela. He smiled at her, a bit shyly, but she quickly looked away.

  Desmond turned to Andrei. “So this is the Mister Cristescu I've heard so much about.”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Schmidt,” Andrei replied. His English was good, but his accent was still obvious. He stood and offered his hand to Desmond, who took it and they shook. “I appreciate the opportunity--”

  “We appreciate your hard work,” Desmond said, interrupting. “I understand you've even taken some double shifts.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Unlike some people, who can't even show up for all their own shifts.”

  Dean's face reddened. His gaze dropped from Adela to his plate and silverware. The room was silent for a moment.

  “Grandfather,” Dennis finally said.

  Desmond turned as Dennis rose and placed a gentle hand on Ayala's shoulder.

  “Grandfather, I'd like to introduce you to Ayala Cristescu. My girlfriend.”

  Desmond nodded deeply. Ayala stood as well.

  “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”

  Desmond turned to Andrei. “You've raised your young ladies to have manners. Well done.”

  Andrei nodded and smiled. Camelia beamed.

  “So,” Desmond said, slapping his belly, “let's eat, shall we?”

  The entire party had retired to the living room after dinner, for the purposes of mingling and making polite conversation... and for Dennis' part, he was surprised with the outcome of dinner and, most especially, his announcement. He had steeled himself for more of Grandfather's grousing, but interestingly none was to be had. He was almost disappointed.

  Ayala apparently agreed. “Your grandfather? Not such a bad man,” she said. She gave Dennis a quick peck on the cheek.

  “He seems to really like you and your dad,” Dennis replied, his eyes on Dean, who stayed in Adela's wake. “And Dean seems to really like your sister.”

  Ayala had noticed this too. She said nothing.

  “He's harmless,” Dennis said. “Really, he is. He just has a little crush, is all.”

  Dennis stiffened as he felt a beefy hand on his shoulder. “Would you excuse us for a moment?” Desmond said to Ayala. “I need to speak to my grandson.”