by Danny Bell
“No,” I said, not looking away from her. “I don’t.”
“I was thinking that this weird kid barely old enough to drink was exactly who I needed when I’d been your age,” Claire replied, squeezing my wrist. “That I was so lucky to know you but that you shouldn’t have been taking care of me. That taking care of everyone else had always been my job, and I didn’t know how to accept it because, in a very real way, I’d felt as if I’d become friends with my younger self, but one who hadn’t yet trapped herself the way I had, and I couldn’t accept all those feelings. Feeling grateful, feeling undeserving, feeling egotistical for comparing myself to you. So, I cried, because that’s the only thing you can do in a situation like that.”
I sat there, my mouth agape in a way that might’ve looked comical if anyone had been around to see it. “I didn’t know,” I said finally.
“Well, I’d also been drinking, right?” Claire laughed. I laughed too, but mine was nervous. “You never got thanked properly for that night, so on behalf of Claire Van Ambergs everywhere, let me say thank you.”
“No worries.” I whispered.
“Not that there are any rules here exactly,” Claire added. “But I’m going to maybe break one for you now. Abarta told you that he knew what I really thought about you. And he does, but he was manipulating you, planting seeds of doubt. It’s what he does. So, I’m going to tell you exactly what I think about you.”
Claire took my hands in hers, and for a moment, I felt real motherly love coming through her and into me. “I’m so goddamn proud of you. I cannot wait to see who you become, and even if sometimes I think you’re a stupid little shit who can’t reliably open my store on time, my life has been infinitely blessed by having you in it.”
She hugged me then, her strong arms wrapping me close to her like a weighted blanket, and I held her until she let go.
“Thank you,” I said finally, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized was there. “I still don’t know who I’m supposed to be, though.”
“Well, it’s not me, that’s for sure. You are your own thing,” Claire chuckled. She studied me for a minute and fell into a voice that was almost like a lecture. “Okay, let’s figure it out then. You could stay the way you are now, sort of, more or less. Respect people in and of themselves, appreciate them for who they are, not what they can do for you. Do the smart thing and always choose to do what you feel is right rather than what is expected of you. Because telling the truth, sticking to an ideal, and being an example for everyone really is a smart thing to do because it might just help other people become who they need to be. But even though that is logical, it’s not really true to yourself all the time, because you’re putting yourself in a box. Or you can listen to your emotions, your heart.” Claire gave me a playful boop to my chest with an extended finger right where my heart was, tipping for a moment like she was drunk. “You stop trying to live by absolutes because it’s crazy as hell to think that everything needs to go to the extreme all the time. What’s right is debatable, but what isn’t debatable is how you feel. And in your heart of hearts, you know you can’t judge someone without knowing how they feel.”
“That is…” I said, looking for the right word.
“Of course, if you lead with your heart and not your head, you might end up working with a Norse goddess and putting an entire city at risk of flooding when your deal goes south.” Claire shrugged.
I laughed the way one does when someone they love has poked fun at their biggest insecurity. “Couldn’t just let me have this one, could you?”
“Come on, Elana!” Claire teased with a smile. “You know the answer, this one is a gimme. Only reason I’m still here is because you don’t want to think about it. But you know who you are and who you’re going to be. Go ahead and say it so you can get some sleep.”
I felt the answer give way inside of me, and it carried the relief of putting down a weight that you’ve been holding onto for too long. A sort of dull ache like my heart wasn’t straining for the first time in a while. “See?” Claire asked. “Feeling better?”
“I am.” I sighed. “Still worried about tomorrow, though. You can’t tell me who I’m going to see, can you?”
“Do you remember Robert Louis Stevenson?”
“Treasure Island was my jam in the third grade. Holy shit, am I meeting Robert Louis Stevenson?”
Claire began to recite familiar words to me gently, as if speaking them too loud may crack them. “Anyone can carry his burden, however hard, until nightfall. Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day. Anyone can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly, purely, till the sun goes down.”
“And this is all that life really means,” I finished for her, sharing a tiny smile in the soft glow of the fire. “So, you’re not going to tell me?”
Claire shook her head. “No, the only thing I can say is that you might not like it, but you need it. And you can handle it.”
“You have no idea how little that narrows my options,” I laughed.
“Well, it’s just one day.” I could have sworn she was saying it to herself.
“Hey, if I give you a hug, are you going to vanish on me?”
“Nah, I’ll wait for you to fall asleep before I go, if you like,” Claire smiled. “I think you’ve earned it.”
I gave Claire a huge, grateful hug, the kind that had healing properties, but I immediately felt sleepy as I did. “All right, down you go, kiddo,” Claire helped me to the ground, taking off her leather jacket for me to use as a pillow. “Sleep well.”
“Oh wait,” I yawned deeply, trying to stay up. “Jason doesn’t have a crush on me, does he?”
Claire chuckled like she was watching a kitten yowl and was insistent. “No, now sleep! You have a big day tomorrow.”
That’s too bad, I thought absently to myself. I tried to say goodnight and goodbye, but my eyelids lost their battle, and I was out in seconds.
It would’ve been a beautiful dream if I’d been able to dream here. It was the best sleep I’d had in this place, at least, and when the sun began its ascent, I was ready to get to work.
I had four blurry symbols now, and they hadn’t appeared in any sort of discernable order. More than that, the staff was taking on a definitive shape; it was starting to look like a staff. By the time the night rolled around, I’d nearly forgotten about who I had to see. Somehow, I knew who it was in the moment before he spoke.
“We’re off to see the Wizard,” Bres mocked as he marched behind me to his spot on the rock. He smiled his hideous, toothy smile and extended both hands toward me as if he were presenting me. “Look at you! Oh, just look at you! Getting some dirt under your nails, are you? Rolling up your sleeves as it were, an honest day’s work for a change! If I told you I was proud of you, would you hug me as I turned into stardust?”
“Eat shit, Bres,” I replied flatly. I wanted to say something worse, but Claire had mentioned that I needed this, and the beginnings of an experiment were brewing in my mind.
Bres tsked at me with overt condescension. “If you’re going to use adult language with me, I might have to treat you like an adult.” He was still smiling, but the threat was implicit.
“What do you want?”
I leaned into that last word, making my impatience more than just implied. “Here you are, on this beautiful journey of self-discovery and you’re doing it for three reasons: Power, power, and more power. Can’t wait to get your greedy little hands on it, can you? So, maybe I’m here to find out what you’re going to do with that power once you have it. Maybe I’m here to find out exactly what kind of leader you’re supposed to be.”
“Or maybe this version of you also can’t lie,” I said, holding his gaze.
Bres tensed a little, and his head swiveled back to the fire, his body rigid. “Are you going to lead by example, becoming as full of strength as you can until everyone around you steps up their game and your tribe is filled with warriors? Or do you think you’ll learn the lesson that you
can’t do it alone, that you’re all stronger together? Power of friendship and all that.”
“I’m not answering your questions, Bres,” I said evenly.
“Oh, but you must!” Bres said, sitting up straight. “The individual or the group? What do you choose?”
I stood up to my feet so suddenly I almost lost my balance, and I shot my words at him like a cannon. “I said I’m not answering! Because you know what? This has nothing to do with who I am and everything to do with who you are not! You, who do the dirty work of spineless men whose faces you can’t stand! You, who for all your power, lets people under your watch die trying to catch me! You, who even in this place, is wearing that same stupid black suit! You’re going to tell me that I need to answer to you? Nuh-uh, you’re no leader, you’re a coward.” I stood over him now, crumpling his lapels, mussing his hair, antagonizing him.
Bres stood tall, his patience razor-thin and his scowl terrible in the silhouette created by the fire. “You think you know me?” he shouted. “I was born for leadership, it’s part of my DNA, my soul! And you will answer me now or—”
“Or what?” I asked, giving him a shove.
“Or so help me, you stupid child, I’ll—”
“You’re not going to do shit,” I said, giving him another shove.
Bres took my challenge to heart and leveled me across the jaw with a left cross. He’d put his shoulder into it, I could tell how reckless the blow had been by his posture as he recovered, there was nothing skilled about it. “Choose!”
His shout didn’t have the effect he’d been hoping for. I laughed hard, something rough from the pit of my stomach as I wiped the forming drop of my blood where my lip had met a tooth. “You hit like a girl,” I taunted.
Bres seemed to get a hold of himself and straightened out as he responded. “Never took you for the sexist type,” he mused. “Anything you can do, I can do better, yeah?”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I grinned. “You hit like a very specific girl. Me. See, I figured out what you are.”
“Oh, have you now?” Bres asked skeptically.
“Yeah, I have,” I answered confidently. “But not until just now. And you gave me the answer. By the way, you got a little something.”
I made a motion to my lip, and Bres unconsciously mirrored the movement, putting a hand to his own mouth and coming away with a little bit of blood. His tiny wound faded, and mine did too. “You’re you, definitely, or perhaps all the accumulated knowledge of you the Knowing or whatever could piece together, made indistinguishable from the real thing, except for one small detail. A copy isn’t a person, so like a fleshy Gundam, you’re piloted by little old me. You are me, and you are you, and you’re here to serve a purpose and piss off, am I right?”
“You, me, and something else,” Bres said sourly. “So, you figured out the trick, so what? Did it make you feel better to figure that out? When did you start to suspect?”
“Wrong question,” I deflected. “Better one would be to ask how I kept it from you lot.”
“Elana Black! Always the clever one!” Bres shouted with the sort of frustration that preceded violence. “But you know, you can be too clever by half, and that smart mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days. Worse trouble than you’ve ever known, and knowing you, that’s quite a bit of trouble. Maybe even destroyed.”
“Can’t hit big without making some big swings.” I shrugged.
“Well, now, here’s one that maybe you didn’t see coming across the plate,” Bres sneered. “You were right, I wasn’t here to ask you what kind of leader you’re going to be. Truth is, I can’t say that I care. But there is a topic of keen interest to me, and I believe this time, you’ll believe me when I ask you a direct question. What I would like to know, really know, is how’re you going to destroy yourself?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I snapped.
“Maybe not now,” Bres nearly spat. “But if someone like me or some abyssal monstrosity doesn’t get you first, you will, mark my words, destroy yourself. So, make no mistake, I have a question, and you’re going to answer me, or I’m going to answer it for you.”
I didn’t say anything, but I stood my ground near the fire. Winds picked up around us, and the fire burned brightly for a moment before dimming. The dim flames illuminated Bres, and it made his transformation into a demon all the more dramatic. “People like you, so certain you’re doing the right thing, often become obsessed. With what, it doesn’t matter. You’ll need an answer to some time-sensitive question, more power to throw at the bad guys, the perfect safeguards to keep you and yours safe; you slowly reject all the things you once thought you could never live without. You think it’s your love for everyone else that is the source of your duty, but it’s a lie that steals your life. No more connections, unable to live in the present because you will always be so close to that one more thing that will make everything ever just so. But you’ll never quite get it all. It will never be enough, and when you’re truly destroyed, you might not even notice. A truly pathetic waste of a life. Is this what’s going to happen to you?”
I said nothing still. Not paralyzed by fear, this wasn’t a demon despite the transformation, it was a pufferfish or a toad, trying to look bigger and badder than it was. I was still because I knew the questions had to come before there could be an answer, and I wasn’t going to fight back until I had to.
“But maybe that isn’t you,” Bres continued. “Maybe you’re more narcissistic than that. Maybe you’ll embrace the grandiosity, revel in this new seductive persona, the destructive Wizard with noble intentions who burns everything that stands in her way. You know the allure of it, don’t you? The fantasy of showing up in the nick of time, always being adored. Or feared. Or underappreciated. It doesn’t matter to a narcissist, does it? Is that you, surrendering to the power you seek, identifying with it, trading for the powers to do good, to be courageous, and all it will cost is being consumed by it until it devours your soul?”
The wind howled wildly, the branches in the oak swayed, and the stream turned into a raging river. Bres stood over me, towering over me with hot breaths like a bellows from hell. Every inch of this place was in turmoil, but I was ready to take responsibility here. I knew my limitations at this moment and fighting him wasn’t the way to go. It would be insisting on tightening a screw that you were trying to loosen.
I took a deep breath and found my calm in the face of the demon, finding the understanding that the chaos surrounding me wasn’t me and that I could control myself and my answer.
“Neither,” I said calmly.
“You must choose!” Bres roared.
“Yes, but I know why these are your questions. They’re just as much my questions as they are yours, and the answer can’t hurt me if I learn from my mistakes and choose another path. I have my answer.”
“You don’t know what—”
And I answered. Probably incorrectly, if an incorrect answer was possible, but I answered honestly. It was the only sort of answer that worked here.
Bres was in human form again. The waters were still. The tree was calm. The fire was regaining its glow. Bres looked nonplussed, but I knew it was done.
“Good enough?”
“Yeah,” Bres said quietly. “Yeah, that’ll do.”
I nodded in acknowledgment. “Then go. There’s nothing more for you here.”
Bres vanished, and I ignored the kicked-up dust and debris from the bonfire and what shook loose from the branches and went straight to sleep, content in the knowledge that it would all be gone in the morning. And when I opened my eyes, sure enough, it was like last night had never happened. In its place was something new, something magnificent.
My staff.
I handled it with reverence, part of me felt like I was handling a precious piece of art or a newborn baby. Sturdy as I could tell it was, I was afraid I was going to break it somehow. I knew it was an irrational concern, but I didn’t know how to be rat
ional about what I was seeing.
Five blurry symbols, for one thing, and they were only made more unreadable the harder I focused on them. I held the staff up and out in front of me to look at it. It had to be about five feet tall, a rare oak that felt alive to the touch. Wrapped around it from the base to about three-quarters of the way to the top was a white root that pulsed like a vein. Not visually, but as I held it, I imagined this was probably not unlike what a surgeon felt in that rarest of moments when a still-beating heart was in their hands. At parts where the root wrapped around, you could also see burn marks, the clues given would indicate that this root or vine or vein had seared its way into the staff. To what end, I could only guess.
It occurred to me with a sudden panic that I was meant to be carving, but when I looked, the knife was nowhere to be found. I searched for it, rapidly darting my eyes in every direction, but aside from the tree, there was nothing here. The knife must’ve been taken, maybe as a sign that I was finished.
That still didn’t leave me with any sense of direction or any clue about what to do next, so instead, I sat under the oak tree and waited, patiently contemplating everything I’d seen, everything that happened to me, and what life would be like when, and in all seriousness, if, I got back. I tried calling out once or twice. Nothing replied. I was hungry.
Night eventually fell. The now-familiar warmth of the bonfire and the calm of the gentle spring didn’t return and was instead replaced with a paved path leading away from the oak. I placed a hand on it, sensing its strength, and offered my thanks. I was keenly aware of how silly this might’ve looked out of context, but this moment wasn’t for anyone else. It was for me and the tree.
