Since several people told me how much they had enjoyed "Haunted", I decided to try my hand at another story. Interestingly, Dooley, Alba and Connor all started out as minor characters in other tales. Those of you who know me well enough to know my weakness for wordplay will appreciate the fact that when it came time to give Alba a surname, I resisted the urge to make it "Kortuna" or"Tross".
Without further ado, here's the first installment of "Border Crossing"
Enjoy!
Border Crossing
“Just keep walking and stop looking down!” chided Alba.
Connor swallowed and forced his eyes away from the brightly lit party boat in the icy river twenty feet below. The ancient rope bridge gave another sickening lurch.
“I may not actually be mentally ill, but I have definitely lost my mind.” He told the night air under his breath. He tried to focus on a fixed point on the horizon like all the books said, but it was difficult to choose one among the brightly lit city skyline when the slightest breeze made the bridge sway. He checked the strap of his mandolin case again and tried focusing on the pommel of Alba’s sword. This did not help.
“I still don’t see why we couldn’t cross over there” Connor complained pointing at the remarkably stable looking suspension bridge upstream.
Alba shot a reproving look over her shoulder and sighed dramatically.
“I know I explained it. You keep thinking in terms of conventional geography. We could get to the same shore that way but it would be a different realm. This is the only way, see?”
Connor did not see. He never liked heights at the best of times and crossing the river at midnight on a frail rope bridge that might technically be imaginary was not the best of times.
“As tall as you are, I don’t see how you can be afraid of heights”, Alba stated airily “It must be traumatic for you to get out of a chair.”
Connor swallowed hard and did not answer. He knew she was only trying to lighten the mood but the only thing that would do that would be for him to stand on solid ground again.
“If it weren’t for that homeless man I wouldn’t be here right now”, he thought, staring at his own blanched knuckles.
*********************************************
“Do you have anything that you can give a poor soul who’s down on his luck?” slurred the beggar, holding out a grimy palm towards Connor.
The old man’s face was gaunt and wrinkled as a walnut. His matted beard would probably become white after the next rainstorm. His ragged clothes smelled of whiskey, sweat and earth. People walking through the park were making a wide detour around him.
Connor invented a code that he lived by when he moved into the city. Part of it was that no matter how drug addled or lunatic the person addressing him appeared, he would always respond politely. He would never allow himself to forget that they were a person too.
“I’m sorry, sir. I just spent the last money I had getting this banjo repaired. Unless you want a tune, I’m afraid I have nothing to give.” Connor expected the old fellow to swear or shuffle away disappointed. Instead the beggar clapped his filthy hands clapped and crowed with delight.
“Aha! That will do for me! A tune on your banjo will be just the thing to lift old Dooley’s spirits. Play for me, lad! Let it be a merry tune”, Dooley nodded slowly with the sagacity and certainty only available to the very drunk. “This old world has enough sorrow in it”
Nonplussed, Connor made his way to a nearby bench, unpacked the instrument and checked his tuning. Another one of his principles was that he never refused to play when asked. He brushed his sandy hair out of his eyes and began to pick out a jaunty reel that he learned just last week from his friend Tom. Halfway through the first phrase he was amused to remember it was called “Whiskey Before Breakfast”. Dooley shut his liquor blurred eyes and began to sway appreciatively. Before long, his sway had turned into a loose jointed, inebriated, shuffling sort of hornpipe. Connor found himself chuckling as he played. The laughter proved infectious. Connor realized as he began to improvise on the theme that he was now in the middle of a small knot of people who were laughing and clapping along with the song. He finished to applause and the audience dispersed. About ten dollars had been dropped into his case. Connor fished out the money and pressed it into Dooley’s palm. The old man eyed him suspiciously. For an instant Connor could have sworn the beggar’s eyes became clear and focused.
“What’s this for” Dooley demanded
“For you”, Connor replied “, I played you a tune and that tune made money, that makes it your money.”
“A gift freely given?” Dooley asked, apparently confused.
“That’s right.”
The beggar struggled with the concept for a moment.
“And you want nothing in return? You ain’t even going to tell me not to spend it on booze? ”
“Would it do any good if I did?” countered Conner, laughing.
“Gift freely given” Dooley told the sky. The intoxicated slur was gone from his voice. The beggar’s eyes had suddenly become sharp and bright as though they had emerged from behind a cloud.
“Had you said or done differently, lad, I would have walked off without more than a fair thee well”, Dooley addressed him with authority “but as you’ve done me a good turn asking for nothing in return, I must respond in kind. Your visions are real, son. Blocking them out with medicine is doing you no favors.”
Connor could feel the blood drain from his narrow face. He had never told anyone about the hallucinations, not even his best friend Tom.
“What? How did you… what are you …. That can’t be!”
Dooley gave an avuncular chuckle
“Typical of people nowadays. You run into something you can’t understand and you just deny it and assume that something must be wrong with you. You try to cure yourself before you even understand what you’re dealing with, and usually make things worse. That’s the age we live in I’m afraid.”
“But I see things that can’t possibly be there!” protested Connor
“That you believe can’t possibly be there” corrected Dooley “Tell me, since you know so much, do you see your visions with one eye and not the other?”
Connor nodded mutely. He could not believe he was actually having this discussion.
“They ever tell you to do things, or do they mostly just leave you be?”
“They let me alone, but my analyst says…”
“Doubtlessly a fine person”, interrupted Dooley “but they don’t know the first thing about it. Mostly when people see things that others cannot it’s a sign of madness. They’re seeing what isn’t there. Then, there are rare folks like you with the Sight. You are seeing what’s really there, and what few others can. What you see can be, and is real. Stop taking your pills and you may learn something worth knowing.”
The old man’s eyes suddenly snapped out of focus. Dooley took a lopsided bow that nearly overbalanced his body and stumbled off down the path. Connor packed his banjo and left the park as if in a dream. At the gate he looked back to convince himself that he hadn’t imagined the whole exchange. Dooley was engaged in a heated argument with a tree. Shaking his head, Connor wandered off and tried to forget the whole thing.
****************************************************************************
The next morning Connor found himself staring at the two white tablets in his palm, unable to bring himself to ingest them. He slid them back into the bottle.
“What the hell, it’s just for one day.” He thought as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door to teach his first guitar lesson at the shop. Nothing strange happened all morning.
That afternoon at the crosswalk of Oar St. and McCLancey , Connor stood beside a regal looking woman in a business suit waiting for the light to change when he heard a scuffling by his leg. Looking down he saw an odd little man who didn’t even come up to his knee. The spindly limbed creature had a look of intense concentration on his Pekinese -like face and one long fingered hand deep in the woman’s handbag. He extracted an expensive looking phone from the bag and a wide predatory grin split his stringy red beard. Conner instinctively snatched the gadget away from the little man. Connor shot him a reproving look before turning to address the woman. She had clearly not noticed anything.
“Excuse me miss, but this just fell out of your bag”
Startled, the woman took the offered phone.
“I didn’t even hear it drop. Thanks! My whole life is in that thing. I don’t know what I would do if I lost it” Without a backwards glance the woman crossed the street and turned into the doorway of a tall building.
“Master is very clever to spot me”, chirped the little man in a surprisingly falsetto voice. Connor had expected a bullfrog croak from the stout little figure. “Tell me which eye you can see me out of, Clever Master!” He was grinning sycophantically up at Connor with an impossibly wide mouth filled with tiny pointed teeth. The little man’s fawning demeanor failed to conceal the cold menace in his bulging eyes.
“I am nowhere near fool enough to tell you that” Connor curtly told him
The creature gave what it clearly believed to be a jovial laugh.
“Master is clever indeed! Master must tell me his name so that I may properly in his service”
“Little Man, you have business elsewhere!” barked a stern woman’s voice from behind, causing them both to jump. The source of the voice was an ash blonde woman. She probably stood about five feet tall and every inch of her radiated indignation. The little man bowed deeply and simpered
“Your pardon, My lady but I was merely asking my friend a question”
The woman’s blue eyes narrowed with disgust
“He is no friend of yours”, she sniffed haughtily “and you will get no answer”
“Forgive me mistress, I meant no offense! “The creature groveled.
“You have business elsewhere”, she stated imperiously. Connor realized that her slight accent was probably Russian. “You should be off to discover what it is now. Do not mistake this for a suggestion.”
The little man’s eyes bulged in abject terror. He bowed and scraped several steps backwards before bursting into a lopsided sprint into the mouth of an alley. The woman turned her penetrating gaze on Connor. He felt uncomfortably under scrutiny.
“That”, she informed him “was a very stupid thing to do.”
“So I should have just let that…thing rob her? “ Connor demanded, feeing childish and indignant. He was treated to another critical stare. She sighed
“Probably not”, she admitted “but sometimes it’s wisest not to interfere. Most folk know me as Ice.” He shook the proffered hand,marveling how small it seemed in his own
“ I’m Conner Davis. Nice to meet you.”
The woman seemed slightly taken aback. She studied him for a long second before she appeared to reach a decision.
“My Name is Alba Petrovavich“She smiled “and you, Connor Davis shall buy me lunch now.”
“Um…Okay. Glad to. But why?”Conner asked, confused.
Alba's smile widened knowingly as she counted the reasons off on her fingers:
“Because I am hungry, because you need to know what I have to tell you, and because I have probably just saved your life!”
c. J. Ryan 2011
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