Aether & Aer

She found him where she’d been told to look. Nearly two weeks had past since Jesse had met Mr. Singh. Two weeks since she’d accepted that she had a question to ask of Vaska. Still, it wasn’t until this night that she’d had enough: enough of denying, enough of ignoring. He’d told her on that rainy first night that if she changed her mind, to ask the ones who were painting the underpasses or talking to the little people - what ever that was suppose to mean – and to tell them she was looking for him.

Jesse hadn’t changed her mind and she still didn’t know what his deal was but this had nothing to do with that – nothing to do with the verses that insisted on emerging from the cavern of her mind. Vaska had said that he’d find her. That wasn’t her way. If she was going to do this, Jesse knew she had to do it herself - before she changed her mind. She wasn’t going to wait around for him to come to her at his convenience. No, she was going to hunt him down and get it over with.

She had gone straight to the one person she thought would be her best bet in knowing where to find Vaska – Lloyd. If he weren’t having one of his episodes, Lloyd would do a good turn for a fellow homeless if he could. The man was almost as permanent a fixture on his particular corner as the building he rested his back against, yet he seemed to know everything that went on in the underbelly of the concrete behemoth they existed in. And sure enough, when she’d asked Lloyd if he knew where she might find a guy named Vaska, he hadn’t hesitated to tell her what she wanted to know.

It seemed to Jesse there was a twinkle in his eyes or perhaps it was a trace of humour to his voice when he told her though, either way it made her hackles rise up. It was as though he was laughing at her. Laughing at the thought of her needing Vaska - looking for him. Perhaps, as Lloyd always knew so much, the look Jesse was certain she saw in his eyes was because she was finally giving in. It was almost enough, when added to her already stewing thoughts, to make her turn away from her intention – almost.
Jesse had been out of sorts though ever since she had first meet Vaska and it had to stop. She was going to put an end to it, no matter what it meant she would have to endure. She couldn’t say what it was that was wrong; a developing habit to look deeper at the shadows; flickers of sight at the corner of her vision. It was not something she needed. Not something she could afford.
Life – her life- was fraught enough. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. On the street, mistakes in judgment spiraled out of proportion – her scar was a testament to that. The words in her head were already a cost to pay and it wasn’t as though they ever left her alone. There was a quality to her day-to-day existence though that had been altered since that night. Meeting the eccentric Nigel Singh hadn’t helped either. It had been great to have him get her out of the slammer but it seemed the price for that might have also been too high. Everything came with a cost. Even a warm night like tonight only meant that she had to be more worried about the increase of drunken perverts abroad.
Lloyd had said that if she hustled, Jesse was certain to catch Vaska between the two overpasses where they’d torn out the train tracks a few years back. She’d known the place he was referring to and was grateful for the excuse to get a little out of the down town core - even if it did mean she’d have to pound the pavement hard.

The air was more humid here. The underbrush that the city couldn’t bother to clear, adding a moisture to the air that wasn’t entirely unwelcome as it was sweeter then the acrid stuff she was usually forced to endure. The night was clear and Jesse peered into the sky to see if it was possible to view at least a single star. After a moment she dropped her gaze, chiding herself for the foolish act. What were you going to wish on it? Starlight, star bright – then what? She’d need galaxies to grant her wish. Make it all go away. Make it right. But what if her secret fear was true? What if this was right? She kept walking, hoping that the trip hadn’t been for nothing. Lloyd had said Vaska would be here – unless there was something he had to do. The good little crusader. Saint Vaska the …. Well Jesse had no idea what. That’s what this trip is for right? She reminded herself.

Jesse knew she’d found him as soon as she laid eyes on the form slowly shifting its stance. Behind him the flames of the trash barrel fire that burned in the ravine below made his figure little more then a silhouette. Jesse stood for a moment before making her way over to a bench, where she plunked herself down to watch as he flowed his body through the series of slow graceful movements.

He was turned slightly away from her, the drunken dance of the firelight making his features lighter and darker crags of shadow. She watched as he brought his hands together in front of him and then raised them into the air, his gaze following their movement. Jesse’s thoughts turned to priests calling down the blessings of their god and of magicians releasing, suddenly appearing doves. The images and concepts blurred together and she wondered which was less the act.

Vaska had extended his arms out to his side’s, palms out. His face turned towards his left hand - towards her. The fire haloed his head, his face a blank darkness and once more her thoughts turned biblical. She shook her head to clear out feelings and images that she hadn’t dealt with for over a year. The last time she’d been in a church was the funeral. The lies of the book and congregation had already grown to be too much for her by then but the funeral, that had been the end to more then just life with her father.

The sound of Vaska steadily exhaling brought her back to the here and now. He was bent over at the waist his hands draped nearly on the ground. He calmly drew in a breath as he turned his palms up and raised his arms keeping them straight. His back was coming up slowly with his hands, the movement sublime it was so supple and slow. Jesse snapped her head aside as she realized that she had stupidly allowed herself to tear up. Hastily she wiped the excess moisture from her eyes and scrubbed the back of her hand on her cheek, feeling the one chafe against the other.

When she had turned back, Vaska was turned slightly away from her again. His weight now more on his left leg, he was moving his hands in towards each other at waist height. It caught her off guard when he spoke, his words timed to his breath, timed in turn to the movement of his arms.

“I read your latest; ‘Forgotten - save for the clanking echo of the chains I helped you wrap me in.’ Quite evocative.”

Already being angry for slipping up and allowing herself to feel, Jesse’s reply was curt, “I’m not here to talk about that.”

“All right.” He said unruffled, as palms facing each other, his arms rotated over each other and he pivoted his waist. “What would you like to talk about?”

She looked past him to where the huddled figures around the fire were passing a bottle. It was a good question and she found that although she knew the essence of the answer, for once the exact words were not there.

Come on. You walked all the way here, as fast as you could, just to confront him. So confront him! But despite her internal bulling Jesse still found the words lacking. She only wanted to ask one question – once - with no chance of misinterpretation or misdirection from him. She didn’t want to have to get creative or angry. She wanted… It doesn’t matter what I want – I’ve learned that one. Need is the only thing and I need to ask and be answered. Still she remained silent as he pushed the night air with breath and hand.

She looked down at her toe as she dug it into the earth. The ground up here was mostly grass, soft under her cracked boot soles. Down there, where the train tracks had once been, it was still weed choked, old gravel. The leavings of progress’s advance – gravel, old and weed choked. She tucked the phrase away in her head where it would stew and tumble with others, one day to be polished into part of a poem. She looked back up at him, and still he had the refuge of his silent routine.

“So I thought Ti Chi was supposed to be done with the sunrise not like in the middle of the night?”

Vaska regarded her for a moment. She wondered if he was going to press her on her non sequitur. She should have known better.

“Traditionally, but the art of Chi Gong has many uses and Ti Chi can be utilized when it best suits.”

“Oh.” She didn’t really know what he’d just said but she did know she didn’t much care. It was odd how, though he had not stopped doing the Ti Chi, she didn’t feel that he was ignoring her. She knew he was just allowing her to do whatever it was she wanted – to say what I came here to say when I want. If I want. Damn him!

She saw in his movements an echo of the way he’d moved when she’d first meet him, when he’d effortlessly overcome that whack job Ryan’s assault.

“So is that why you fight so well, cause of doing this?” Jesse asked and gestured with her arms in a half mocking imitation of his gesturing.

“I do this so I don’t have to fight so well.” Vaska replied.

“Your trying to be enigmatic on purpose aren’t you?”

“No.” he allowed his arms to rest at his side and regarded her for a moment.

She held his gaze with a hard one of her own, not allowing herself to be affected by the charm that seemed to emanate from him - and Nigel. Why am I always so defensive with him?

“Although the movements I’m practicing can be used in a martial way I do it for meditation. I’m relaxing and observing myself.”

“You sound like a bad martial arts movie.”

Part of her wanted to get up and leave but she remained on the bench all the same. She went on criticizing him, unable to bring herself to the real reason she was here, looking for excuses and rationales once more. “Talking meditation and relaxing when I’ve already seen you use moves like that to kick Ryan’s ass.”

“In fairness,” The corner of Vaska’s mouth drew up, “I didn’t ‘kick his ass’. Anyways, not wanting to fight or maybe more accurately desiring to avoid a fight doesn’t mean I don’t know how. ‘if the opponent doesn’t move, I don’t move. If he makes the slightest move, I move first.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense.” Jesse snorted and stood up.

“It is from a Chinese text entitled ‘Explanation of the Thirteen Movements’.”

“So if I did those moves too, I could ‘not’ kick someone’s ass like you did?” She rubbed her shoulder and the long scar that decorated it.

“Well not quite… it would - after much practice -,” He clarified, “give you a better chance of protecting yourself. But I’d hope that you’d be interested in learning it for the meditation. The practice of Qi Gong promotes self awareness, relaxation and even creativity.”

“Oh enough! Lay off the poetry. It’s on the walls – that’s where it belongs.”

“Hey, I was just mentioning what it does. You’ve already stated the reason you’re here is not because of the offer I made.”

There was a silence poignant with waiting. Jesse opened her mouth.

“You’re not…”

He watched her and Jesse, looking into those dark eyes, could almost see how much they had seen - it was a long, hard landscape. She turned away, the last word unsaid.

She remembered his gaze, as she’d lain on the ground already given up, waiting for Ryan and the other two to arrive. She watched in her minds eye the rain, a cornea around his head. She heard his voice speak those words which had lodged in her soul –‘ I’ve become a junky for your words’ She looked up at him and his features, his black hair with it’s one blue slash defied her feelings. She pushed aside her thoughts, the emotion and the curiosity.

“So could you actually teach me?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “If you want. I try to practice every night. If you’re here, I’ll assume you want to learn. Fair enough?”

“Sure. What’s first?”

“Now?”

Jesse was glad to see that she had surprised him. “Why not? It’s not like I have anything else to do – period. So?”

“So first your feet should be apart, lined up under your shoulders. Your knees bent slightly. Pull your back up straight.”

Jesse did as instructed, feeling a bit foolish but figuring the only ones to see her where the drunks by the fire and they could gawk all the wanted, she supposed.

“Your not going to make your back straight by pushing your shoulders back just… pretend there is a hook gently tugging up from the top of your head while your feet are still resting on the ground.”

Not sure the image was a pleasant one, Jesse stopped forcing her shoulders back and tried to do as Vaska had explained. She found she was able not only to picture his instructions easier then she expected but t follow them.

“Good,” he said nodding and circling around her “To begin, just allow your hands to drop to your side for now. But loosen up those wrists, here.” He reached from behind her and lightly grasped just above her wrist.

Jesse went stiff and jerked her arm before she even thought of it. Vaska immediately stepped up to her side and slightly ahead of her. “Shake out your wrists like this. It’s not an actual move but just to help you relax your wrists a bit.”

Jesse realized her heart was pounding along with her rapid breathing. She forced her teeth to part slightly and tried shaking out her wrists like Vaska had just done. She found her shoulder was suddenly aching though, like it hadn’t for months.

“Maybe we should do this some other day.” She said.

“I shouldn’t -” he began as he turned towards her but stopped when he saw her face. Jesse wondered if it was all written there or if he just didn’t want to provoke her into anger. That’s all I am around him, helpless or angry.

“Well, I’m here most nights around nowish. If you want, I’d be happy to share what I can with you.”

Jesse wanted to apologize, or for him to – both and neither seemed wrong. She looked down into the ravine. The fire was guttering now, the drunks having moved on or huddled into their fumigated dreams. She wished sometimes that she had a vice that could make her oblivious.

“They were celebrating Donny’s birthday.”

“Oh.” She wondered how Donny managed to know it was his birthday. She couldn’t remember if it was May or June leave alone the exact date.

“Look it’s late.” She said as she turned towards him.

“I understand.” He continued to gaze down, no confrontation or accusation.

“No. I meant, I’ll understand ‘cause it’s late’ if you don’t want to but I’m willing to try to learn.”

“I try never to put off till later anything I can do now.”

He stepped back over to where he had been before and said “ Why don’t you stand across from me? That way I can watch you to make sure your getting the posture right and you can watch me to learn the movements.”

“Kay.” Jesse said and tried to find the same position that she had been in before.

“Alright, that’s not bad. Now, I’m going to teach you the first and most important part.”

“Shoot.” She shook out her arms in anticipation.

“Breathing.” He said.

“You’re kidding right.” Vaska stared at her, a small smirk on his face. “Tell me you’re kidding. I can breath Vaska. See - in out, in out. Now stop staring at my chest.”

“But,” He said. “Your chest is heaving as you breath.”

“I was being melodramatic.”

“No, I meant normally.”

“I haven’t got quite enough to heave.”

“When you do Ti Chi you need to breath properly. So, draw the air down deep into your pelvis. Then release it back up through your lungs.”

Jesse stared at him. “So if I learn to breath like - that, then do I get to learn to kick ass?”

Vaska sighed.

“O.k. O.k. I’m breathing.”

Jesse found the trick to the breathing after a few minutes and though she lost the rhythm a few times, Vaska was able to move on and begin to teach her the movements. Jesse was glad that Ti Chi was something that was done slowly anyways as it was more complicated then it appeared. After roughly an hour had past, they both seemed to agree, with out words spoken, that the lesson was over for the night.

Vaska offered her a drink from his water bottle and after a moments hesitation she took a draught, knowing she would still have a long walk back and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t get chased away from the few fountains she knew of along the way. Cops hung around public places like that just to make sure you didn’t dig out the coins. After a second shorter drink, Jesse passed him back the bottle.

“I’m going towards…” he began but Jesse cut him off.

“I’m o.k.”

He nodded and walked silently away. She was thankful that he hadn’t asked if she was sure. A moment later she heard a motorcycle start up and gave a wry smile.

“Happy Birthday Donnie” Jesse said to the glow in the ravine then turned away and began the walk back downtown. She made it to the road and realized she never had asked her question.

The floor was hard, smooth and cold, not that she hadn’t sat in worse places; it was for example dry. Yippee. Jesse thought. So far no one had mentioned her mother, and that was a good thing, but also unnerving. Was it possible that in the ‘Groundhog Day’ that her life had become, she’d turned eighteen already?

At least it was quite now. The drunk locked up further down the hall had finally given up on singing about how he loved American music. Maybe he’d simply passed out. Jesse sat, back to the wall, with her knees drawn up to her chest and stared straight ahead. The only thing to see there were her own battered boots on the other side of the bars and across the hall. Like I’m going to kill myself -Now - Over this. Get real. If they ship me home, then they should worry about it.

She was staring at the boots because it was better than looking around at the walls. Her cell was decorated in graffiti that was both so charming and mature; mostly involving diagrams for those too simple to read four letter words. Occasionally she wondered, how it was if you couldn’t have your shoes, or rings, or belt buckles, etc. with you - how all these pens and markers had made it in the cell? Damn cop took my marker away before he even cuffed me! Too bad too; letting me write in here would be a definite improvement

She had no idea how long she’d been in now or how long she was likely to remain. They’d offered to let her call a lawyer - what a joke. She was going to end up with a publicly appointed lawyer one way or the other, everyone knew it; so let them sort it out. What did she know about it? One previous didn’t teach you everything. Last time she’d been busted it had been the middle of the afternoon and her parents had shown up in a few hours.

Jesse knew it had been her father who’d caused her to be sprung so fast that time. She could tell though, that he’d taken a hell of a lot of abuse from the bitch that birthed her to even get the ball rolling. It was the only real remorse she’d felt about the episode – what he’d had to go through. Now with Dad dead, if they have called her, she won’t stir her fat ass for me till she’s good and ready. And would they have called at two or whatever time it was in the morning? Did they wait till a decent time to inform parents their kids were in lock up? Screw it. Stop thinking about it and just sit and rot - you know how to do that girl. Jesse told herself.

She knew she’d got busted after one a.m. and it seemed like quite a while go that they’d feed her. She’d been surprised about getting breakfast and it was good too! Still warm, grilled processed cheese. She believed there had even been two slices in there - thin ones - but still. And added to that, to her delight, had been a small cup of coffee. At least Jesse was fairly certain it had been coffee - either weak coffee or truly horrid tea. It’d had cream and sugar in it, which made it hard for her to be sure. Why assume that everyone wanted cream and sugar? Why not assume black? What if you were lactose intolerant? She’d giggled when she thought of saying she was. With the constant griping about the cops needing a bigger budget, you’d think they’d be saving every cent - buck here or there.

She remembered someone else mentioning small amounts meaning something. For a moment Jesse could hear him clear, as though it was still that bizarre night so many weeks ago. ‘Not like much, a few cents a word. But hey, a buck or two now and then, makes a difference doesn’t it?’ Odd how that had come to her now. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of the guy, or that night, since it had happened but she hadn’t actively thought of it. There were details, she knew, she was shying away from and on top of not thinking about him, she hadn’t seen him either.

She shifted, trying to keep her ass and legs from going numb. She glanced at the torture device that she supposed was intended to be a bed. It might even have worked, for someone who had a body that was something beyond the merest flesh over bone. When Jesse had laid down on it, to finally try and get some sleep, the inch wide, thin strips of metal that were woven together to allow equally wide holes, had offered nothing but discomfort.

Jesse had tossed and turned, believing that eventually sleep would over come the discomfort. After all, she’d slept more then one night in a corrugated metal drainage pipe hadn’t she? The cot proved to be far worse. Her hip and shoulder and elbow would grind into the spaces left open. When she’d tried lying flat on her back, the strips and spaces, no matter how she positioned herself, popped around her spine. Finally she’d gave up and sat up, which is when she found out how little padding there really was on her ass. In disgust, Jesse had plopped to the floor and immediately felt the cold begin to seep into her butt and feet.

She had managed snippets of sleep on the floor but with the drunk with his musical aspirations, the damn pigs coming in to make sure they weren’t causing trouble then yelling at the drunk to shut up, most of her stint so far had been done awake. It had already become a very long, very dull experience. Jesse wondered if she’d get a lunch. She’d forgive the stupid bed if she could have another of those cheese sandwiches. If lunch was a part of the stay however, it hadn’t come yet and breakfast had been so long ago. It wasn’t a hunger thing, hell she was sitting on easy street today as far as eating went; it was the dragging of time. If there was lunch and it hadn’t come yet, then the time she’d spent since breakfast wasn’t as long as it felt and that was starting to make her feel cagey - more then the bars ever could.

The thing that sucked the most about all this, if she managed to ignore the extremely terrifying possibility that any moment a cop would come and deliver her into her mothers clutches, was the poem. The pig hadn’t had the decency to wait until she’d finished it, before nabbing her. All Jesse could really think about was the words ending abruptly, one word – entwining – now only read –entwi-. And not having written it out, the images and music of the poem were still circling in her head. If only she had a pen, Like apparently so many others in this cell have had she reflected bitterly.

Jesse heard the door to the hall open and felt a mixture of emotions. Simultaneously she hoped that it meant she was getting lunch and dreaded it meant a certain bitch was here for her. The cop took their sweet time ambling down the hall. She resisted the urge to hop up and try to peer thru the bars; she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. Instead, she tried for a look that said ‘being in here isn’t affecting me at all’.

Eventually the cop did come into view. It was a chick Jesse hadn’t seen before now and she looked like a real bitch. She also wasn’t carrying any food. Jesse stared her right in the eye and didn’t blink. For a moment it seemed that was what the cop had come down here to the cells for, a staring contest with the inmates.

Eventually the woman unhooked the keys from her belt, slotted one into the lock and turned it. Jesse heard the door of bars unlatch, it didn’t move though and neither did she. The cop gave her one last moment of scrutiny, clipped her keys back onto her wide belt and hauled on the door. It slid open with a grating and the woman’s voice was only slightly better as she barked, “Let’s go honey, move it.”

Jesse got up and stepped out of the cell to stand in the hall. The cop started walking away and Jesse wasn’t sure if she should stay there, follow, or put on her boots. All three options had their perks but also definite downsides. When the cop reached the door at the end of the hall, she seemed to finally notice that Jesse hadn’t moved yet.

“What? You want to stay in here sweetheart? I can throw your skinny ass back in if that’s what you want, other wise grab your gear and move it. I’m not waiting for the likes of you.”

Jesse ground her teeth together, to make sure they stayed closed over the numerous comments she was itching to spew at the bully in a cop suit. She reached out and hooked her fingers into the laces of her boots and realized what she’d thought. Like there’s any other kind who wear the blue. This thought brought a smile to her face, allowing her to walk calmly down the hall. Jesse didn’t know why she was being moved, or to where, and most importantly, who might be waiting for her but she walked with a smile. She could see that this pissed the cop off for some reason and set her boots to a jaunty swing.

Once out the door she was lead to a different area then she’d been brought in through. This was not the back receiving area, with the yellow line you couldn’t walk past but just had to lean over, until you nearly fell, to sign your name and read the form and hand over your gear. She fingered the receipt in her pocket. There wasn’t much in the bag they’d stuffed her confiscated items into, certainly nothing she couldn’t walk away from - including her small bundle of ID - but she was damned if she was going to let the pigs have even so much as candy wrapper of hers if she had a choice.

It took her a moment but it finally registered that she was in a separate section of the front of the station. She could see through the glass to the lobby and the street beyond that. So I am getting released. Jesse immediately tried to scope out the few people that were in the room as well as those in the lobby. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t see her mother. This made her jittery with glee but more then a little perplexed. The cop behind the desk motioned for her to come forward. Automatically she looked to see if there was a yellow line. There was. Even when letting you go they made you keep your distance. Just get a HASMAT suit for Christ sake!

Jesse slid her receipt to him and he got up and went looking through a wall of pigeonholes, half of which were stuffed with clear plastic bags containing various objects inside. After checking the number under a specific pigeonhole, twice, against the one on the receipt she’d given him, he took the bag out and brought it back to the desk. He tossed it down in front of her but as she reached for it, he pulled it away. She glared at him, thinking he was probably the pettiest bully of the bunch, when he tapped the clipboard.

Aw, they make poor mute work the sign out desk. Jesse giggled, which helped relieve the anger, and scribbled her name as illegible as she could. She grabbed the package and shoved it under the arm that was holding her boots.

“O.k.? I can go now? Or is there a flaming hoop you’d like me to dive through first?”

The guy pointed with his pen to a spot behind Jesse. She scowled at him but looked over her shoulder. As she did, one of the people on the uncomfortable looking seats stood up. She hadn’t paid any attention to the guy when she’d been looking around because he was in no way her mother.

He was a thin, black man, with short hair that looked like it had been black but was now turning white. Jesse guessed he was somewhere over the age of forty. If he was a cop, he looked like he was doing undercover work as a semi retired professor. Not a real intimidating look. The only thing that might lend itself to the image of a cop was from the wrong decade; he was wearing a clean, caramel colored trench coat.

His unfolding from the chair was fluid and graceful. Standing he was quite a bit taller then he’d looked in the chair but was smiling at her most disarmingly.

“Miss Priddy?”

Jesse figured this was probably her publicly appointed defendant, but still she wasn’t taking chances. “Maybe. Who wants to know?”

The man chuckled. “Got some spirit in you that’s for sure. But then I suppose a poet’s either got spirit or sorrow and I suspect you have a touch of the both.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Please bear with me. I forgot that you have just spent, what was no doubt, an unpleasant night. Let’s start again.” He extended his hand and said, “Miss Jesse Priddy, I’m Nigel Singh.” When Jesse only glanced at his hand and then back at his eye, which she had to admit were a stunning blue especially set in his dark skinned face, he dropped the hand.

Still smiling, he went on, “Vaska asked me to come and see if I could do anything about getting you out.”

Jesse lost all her cool then, “What! Vaska did?” The man nodded. “And you were able to?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you’d like to have some coffee? I noticed a little café just down from here on my way in, and as all I have had so far this morning is one cup from up in homicide and that, I’ll tell you, nearly killed me, I am planning to get something more palatable”

Jesse tried not to smirk, but it had been a long night and the fact that this man had brought Vaska into it had broken her defenses. She snickered at the joke.

Seeing that she was hesitating on accepting his offer but had laughed, the man swept open the door. “I am gong whether you wish to accompany me or not. But I must confess, that I would find it far preferable to spend the time with company, especially company whom Vaska claims to be an exquisite poet. Now, if you’d like a cup of coffee and perhaps a Danish or such, then please walk with me. Other wise Miss Prydudd, I wish you a good day.”

“What did you call me?” Jesse started forward and caught the door.

“I said that if you did not wish to join me, to have a good day.” He replied, while slowly taking the few stairs down to street level.

“No,’ Jesse said and trotted down the stairs to catch up with him. “My name, you called me Pridooth.”

“I’m sure I did not young lady.”

“Well it was something like it; Prydooth or such.”

“Well if I did,” He answered, still strolling amiably down the street. “I assure you there was no harm in it,”

“What do you mean by that?” Jesse didn’t know if she wanted to slap this guy or start imitating him.

“Prydudd is simply the etymology -”

Jesse scrunched her eyebrows together, “Etymology! Isn’t that something about bugs?”

“That would be Entomology. No, etymology is the meanings of words.”

“So what has that to do with my name?” Jesse found that despite her being annoyed, she was giggling.

“Prydudd is simple the origin of your last name. Your surname evolved out of the word prydudd. Your Welsh are you not?”

“My dad was.”

“Was?”

“He died.” Suddenly she no longer felt like smiling.

“Ah, I’m so sorry dear. Losing a father is hard at any age.” Then he was opening a door, which chimed softly. “Do and old man a harmless favor in return for coming down here so early and join him coffee?”

Jesse stood for a moment outside. The smell coming from the diner was seductive and the offer of coffee was tempting but it was something else that finally made her step inside with Mr. Nigel Singh. She wanted more of this puzzle explained. Vaska had now twice saved her and still he seemed to ask nothing in return. She didn’t even know how he’d known she was in jail. So with these thoughts leading her, she accepted the offer.

Mr. Singh indicated an open spot at the bar style counter that ran the length of the window front and Jesse hopped up on the stool. It was only then that she realized she had yet to put on her boots.

“What do you take in you coffee Miss-”

Jesse cut him off. “It’s Jesse o.k. Just Jesse.” And when he nodded she added, “And it’s just black, nothing in it.”

“Should be easy for me to remember that then. “ And walked towards the serving counter.

Jesse pulled on her boots and wondered if he’d been referring to her name or her choice in coffee. He was certainly an odd fellow. No wonder Vaska and he are friends. How are they friends? She suddenly questioned. They’re not the same age and it really doesn’t look like they run in the same circles. Damn! Ever since I meet him, it’s been annoying questions. Why can’t life be simple – me and a marker. That’s it. No weird people, no rescues and especially no freaking cops!

“Here we are.” Nigel said placing a tray down beside her. He sat on the stool next to her but far enough away that they could turn and face each other with out bumping knees. Jesse appreciated that. She also appreciated the fact, that besides two, large ceramic mugs of coffee, one black, and the other with milk; there were two Danishes and one bagel with cheese in it.

Nigel took the coffee with cream and one of the Danishes off the tray and placed them in front of himself and then he motioned to the rest.

“Please, don’t be shy. Dig in.”

Jesse did just that. She wasn’t stubborn or foolish enough to turn down the food. The bagel was wrapped in cellophane and survival instinct told her that it could last her two days minimum. She left it where it was and took the coffee and remaining Danish. Nigel took the bagel off the tray, placed it in front of her, then put the tray out of the way on the far side of him.

Jesse enjoyed a sip from her coffee, really enjoyed it. It was rich and strong and like nothing she’d had in quite some time. Then she took a bite of the Danish and reveled in the sugary softness of it. Usually the baked goods she managed to get her hands on where stale, hard things. Once she’d had a second swallow of coffee and Nigel had remained quite, watching the few pedestrians on the street go by, Jesse decided to start with an easy question.

“So, that thing about my name. How did you know that?”

Nigel turned from looking out at the street and once more she was struck by the blueness of his eyes. “Just one of those things you pick up when you’ve lived as long as I have. And I suppose I must admit that my studies do play a part in it.”

“Studies? Your in school?”

“Technically, yes I am. I’m a professor, though currently I’m on a sabbatical.”

Jesse decided it was time to move on to the harder questions but stalled, by cramming her mouth with Danish. She wasn’t acting very lady like but what the hell?

Before she could ask her question, Nigel fired one of his own. “So Vaska says your poems are publishable. Have you considered it?”

Jesse managed to swallow her mouthful, but she was feeling put upon now. Was that what this was all about? Had Vaska somehow managed all this just to harp on her about her poems?

“I believe I’ve said something to upset you. My apologies.”

“Upset me! Damn right! I can’t believe I fell for this whole, easy going - why not have a coffee with me - crap! I’m such an idiot.” Jesse couldn’t help notice that Nigel looked quite shocked. “Are you him?”

“Am I who child - sorry – Jesse.”

“The guy. The guy Vaska said he knew who ran a on-line publishing thing.”

“Um no. I don’t even own a computer. They installed one in my office but so far it just stops books from falling off the edge of my desk. I assure you I am not ‘that guy’. I do not even know whom you might be referring to. Vaska and I are close associates, perhaps even friends, but we don’t share all the same friends or move in all the same circles.”

Jesse was somewhat mollified but not calm. “So why did you ask me?”

“About the poems?” Jesse nodded, “Simply conversation. I trust Vaska’s judgment on these sorts of things. If he says your good, I’m prone to believe him. It was conversation and curiosity I assure you, nothing more.”

“So he didn’t set this up, so you could try and convince me to take him up on his offer?

“I didn’t even know there was an offer. As for setting anything up; I’m afraid you were apprehended by the police all on your own.” He gave her quirky smile and took a big bite of the Danish.

“Alright” Jesse said settling down. She took another drink from her coffee, wanting to enjoy it while it was still warm – another rare thing for her these days. “But how did. I mean you got to admit this is all odd. You said Vaska asked you to see if you could get me out?” Nigel nodded. “So like ‘hello’ – how did he know I was even in? And why did he think you could do anything?”

“Let me answer that last one first if I may. Vaska and I have a connection to a detective in homicide. Vaska was hoping this man could ‘pull some strings’ as the saying goes and get you ‘cut lose’.”

“So if Vaska knows him too, why call you? Why not go himself?”

“I believe there may be a few reason. I am more presentable and thus more likely to be a person the officers would release you to.”

“So I’m like still in trouble.” Jesse dropped the mostly eaten Danish she was just about to take another bite from.

“No, quite the opposite. You are free, all charge dropped. No worry there, but there is a certain amount of ease to these things if a respectable man of the community is involved you see.”

Jesse could only nod, as her mouth was now full. She thought that this Nigel had an odd way of talking. He seemed to be in no hurry to get to the end of the sentence, yet didn’t actually ramble. She assumed it was because he was professor.

“I also, and this is pure conjecture gathered from your response to his name and the issue of your poems, believe that he felt it might be best if you did not find him waiting in the lobby for you.” Nigel smiled in response to her scowl.

She hated to admit it but she probably would have flown off the handle if he’d been standing there, all casual and unassuming.

“So what is it with him? I mean why is he doing all this for me? Does he think cause he likes my poems that he like, knows my soul and is in love with me. Rescue the poor girl and she’ll swoon into his arms? Cause if that’s the case, you can pass on that this girl may need rescuing now and then but I’m never going to swoon – ain’t my thing.”

“No. Miss – Jesse, I can assure you that Vaska has no delusions of being in love with you. Nor can I believe, if he’s meet you, he’d believe you the swooning type.” He gave her a cocky smile before continuing. “This is just how Vaska is. It’s not a pity thing but when someone touches him, he looks out for them - does what he can for them. Your words touched him, spoke to him in a way that made him want to reach out to you in turn.”

“Why? Why is that ‘just how Vaska is’?”

“I’m not entirely sure and even if I were, I think that it would be something that he’d have to choose to tell you about himself. Wouldn’t you agree that some stories should only be spoken, by those to whom they belong?”

Jesse reached up and rubbed her scar. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“When he called me. Don’t get that look, just because I don’t use a computer doesn’t mean I have spurned all of this modern worlds gadgets.” He slid back his caramel colored coat to reveal the slim cell phone clipped to his leather belt.

“Alright, sorry. So he called you…”

“Yes, he called and said that he believed a girl with whom he was acquainted had been picked up by the police for vandalism. He said that he’d already asked around the street and that there was no one who could recall seeing her or hearing anything but that a cop had been stopped in a certain area. He then told me your name and asked if I could be persuaded to go to the police station and talk to our friend in homicide to see if any accommodations could be reached. And that, I’m afraid, is what I know of this tale.”

“How did both of you get to know a cop so well, he owes you that sort of favour?”

“Ah! An excellent question but I’m afraid my dear, that is a tale for another time. I would be delighted to meet you again and tell it to you. I think today though has been enough of a story in and of itself.” He popped the last of his Danish into is mouth and smiled as he chewed.

Jesse took the second last drink from her coffee and thought that it would be rather enjoyable to take him up on the offer. She turned and was just about to say that it was a date, when suddenly she realized that she was sitting there chatting with this stranger. She felt comfortable with him there, was listening to him and talking to him. Jesse looked hard at him. She looked past the superficial differences and saw the same tall, lanky features and the angular face. Two and two added up to four - even to a street kid, sometimes faster.

“Oh. Shit.”

“What is it my dear?”

“Your like him aren’t you?”

“Like him? Vaska you mean?” Nigel raised an eyebrow, “Yes I suppose. He’s young but a good person.”

“I didn’t say you like him, I said you are like him and you know it!”

Nigel sighed and placed his coffee mug, from which he had been about to drink, gently on the counter. “Your right. That was unfair of me. Please sit down again Jesse.”

Jesse had in fact lifted herself out of the seat and now hesitated, seeing if she could sense any of that snake charm coming through.

“Please. Finish your coffee at least and yes, I’m much older then him but we are,” he paused, “perhaps kin is the best word.”

Jesse sat down, “I think both of you have explaining to do.” She was warring internally between being angry and curious.

“Are you sure you want that?”

She didn’t hesitate in her answer, “No.”

Nigel laughed then. “An honest answer and a good one. If you were sure in either way, I don’t think I’d tell you. Perhaps it shouldn’t be I whom does the telling at any rate.”

Jesse glared at him, and then she grabbed the bagel and shoved in her pocket preparing to leave.

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘There is more between heaven and hell then you can ever image’?”

“Yeah, so?’

“Well I don’t necessarily believe that is true in some people’s case’s. Take yourself for example, I bet if asked you to imagine, you would come up with a world much more rich and bizarre then it really is. However,” he winked, “the real world is already more bizarre then most of humanity thinks it is.”

“What are you talking about?” Jesse wanted to think that Mr. Nigel Singh had sudden shown his missing clockwork or was trying to wax poetic himself, but there was something that wouldn’t allow it. It’s because you bet Nigel’s hair doesn’t get wet in the rain either.

“Ah, I see you believe. Believe at least, that I’m not just some old man getting senile too soon. Here and now is not, however, a place I would choose to discuss such things. And I do truly believe Jesse, that to search for more answers, you need to confront the source of your questions.”

“Vaska.”

“Indeed. You find him when you’re truly as ready as you can be and ask him. After that, I truly would be delighted if we were to meet again. I could, then, tell you the tale of how we meet homicide Detective Washbourn.”

Nigel passed her a card, which had his name with letters after it and three phone numbers. “When you’re ready, at anytime - I sleep very little. Until then, it has been a pleasure Jesse.”

Jesse found herself once more only able to nod as a strange man left her. This is starting to be a trend girl. Jesse slugged back the remainder of her coffee and picked up her bag of goods from the police station. As she did, she saw that there was a twenty-dollar bill in the bag. A small slit had been made in the bag and the bill, folded tight, had been slid into it. Under the bag, she found the plastic knife that had clearly made the slit.

Jesse wasn’t able to figure out how he’d known, that twenty was a fortune that she could actually swallow her pride for and accept. How had the man known that more then twenty she’d have just chased him down and thrown it in his face. I can buy a new marker now and go finish the poem. I bet Vaska would like that. She had been about to leave when she stopped. She cursed under breath but smiled. Not only had that thought surprised her, but it had also answered how he’d known she’d been arrested.

She walked out onto the street and into what was becoming a very pleasant day. She wasn’t even bothered by the more annoying question; since she’d been sitting there the entire time, how had Mr. Singh done it.

Taliba flitted across the pavement, flying just high enough that her feet didn’t scrape the ground and send her tumbling head over heels. It was a technique that took quite a bit of time to learn, more time then just lifting yourself up, certainly. Nothing was as easy as hovering though. Hovering was effortless; she could hover for hours - days even. Her mother had been fond of joking that, as soon as her wings had dried, Taliba had been hovering.

Taliba felt a bout of self-pity wash over her. Mastering flying so soon was something she was proud of. It had made her parents happy too, especially her father. Her father held to the old saying that if a flicker was “Old enough to fly - then bye bye”. She’d been out of the house, alone, for almost a month now and it was just today that her birth brother, Jirair, had celebrated his ‘Getting Wings’. ‘Getting Wings’ meant flicker parents had agreed a child could maneuver off the ground well enough that they could give that child the boot. With Jirair out, that left only Tendaji in her parents place. While Tendaji may find that humiliating, he wasn’t behind in flight development - she’d just been ahead. After a month on her own, Taliba would trade places with him in a moment, not that he’d probably believe it.

Taliba had used being away from the their parents place so early, compared to her birth brothers, to be a good sister. She had found a place Jirair could call his own, at least until he found someplace better. She had flown him to the spot after the celebration at their parent’s place, a celebration that only made her more nostalgic to be home.

She worried that there was something wrong with her. Flickers are supposed to be independent, aren’t they? she asked herself, If so, then why was she pining for her Nanna and Pappa after a month? You can fly well but that’s the only thing that makes you a flicker, other wise you really are a delve like Tendaji says.

Now Taliba found herself heading home later then she’d normally be out, her mind wandering. She was both anxious to get back to the place she called home - for now - and dreading it. Suddenly she realized, that she was about to smack the lower half of herself off a beer bottle, lying in the alley. She beat her wings hard and lifted further up from the ground. She cursed, not for the first time, the need to wear a protective layer. If it wasn’t for the thing catching the air and dragging at her, it would be easier for her to get further and up faster. She drew her knees to her chest, even though she knew she would clear the bottle, just to practice the emergency maneuver. That sort of trick done normally was different then doing it with the over layer on.

She shouldn’t complain about the gear. It was great article of clothing and her mother, Taliba knew, must have worked long and hard on it to have it ready for her own “Getting Wings” celebration. The chip bag that her mother had transformed into a protective outer layer, styled like a trench coat, had been a ‘Lay’s dill pickle’. The color of the bag was a perfect match to her hair. Taliba could fly just over the sidewalks, her light green and sparkling silver hair flowing unbound behind her, and not have to worry that any human would see anything but a discarded chip bag blowing in the wind. It was perfect, Taliba just wasn’t quite used to flying in it yet.

Her mother was well known for her skill in transforming the stuff humans tossed into usable protective gear. It earned her good status and brought the family wealth. What am I going to do? Once more Taliba fell into a funk of self-pity. When she got to the dumpster by where she lived, instead of challenging herself to zoom as fast as possible at it, then bank up steep; she gradually ascended to the half way point and settled down. Taliba sat, kicking her heels, allowing herself a rest before flying up to the broken out brick on the store back, that opened into her small dark living space.

Suddenly the sound she’d been hearing but not paying attention to caught her attention and she remained utterly still. A moment later a woman walked past the dumpster from the other side. She was dressed in a simple knee length dress. The woman had a jacket over her shoulders but her arms were bare and crossed under her breasts. She was walking quickly. Taliba could tell she wanted to get through the alley quickly. Most anyone who wasn’t a street person did want to get through fast. The only reason there was any traffic done this stretch was because it was a short cut. Taliba guessed from the fact that the sun had set a little while ago and the outfit, that the woman was going to one of the martini bars on the far side of the next street.

She hadn’t got a good look at the woman but didn’t care. Much more important was Taliba knew the woman hadn’t looked at her. Taliba thanked the winds that she had stopped to rest. The coat she wore might have hidden what she, was but it might not of. One month out and broken ‘The Rule’. Wouldn’t that have been good? She berated herself. You think life’s hard now? Imagine if you were found to have reveled yourself to a normal human. I might survive a hard beating, which I’m sure Poppa would be the first to offer to administer, but I’m already too lonely now! If I were ostracized, even for a month, it would kill me. No family, no visiting Nijel and his insane human roommate… What she’d especially miss was talking to that old delve Ansgar. If he wouldn’t speak to me how would I find out how I’m suppose to go about things?

It was just when she was contemplating the horror she’d avoided, when a sharp, but short, scream cut through her thoughts.

Cinder and Verse

By R.M. Ridley

 

Jessie pressed the frayed and worn felt tip to the cinderblock of the wall once again. She hoped that she could get this done before the permanent marker had to be given up for dead. She took one quick glance around the dimly lit alley to make sure there were no cops or busybodies. Convinced she was unnoticed, the way she had learned was best, she wrote.

She made the letters an inch high and as clear as she could, given the limits the marker was imposing on her in it’s final stages. She finished, the last word a hell of a lot fainter than she’d like but it was there, when she heard a voice behind her. A man, speaking softly the very words she had hoped to be able to get up.

“…soft as a black dove’s feather – the death of careless dreams. Cold as iron and ice - the fetters of their ghostly screams.”

Jessie was paralyzed. The way he’d read her words, sounded like the owner of that voice liked what she’d written. If it were a cop though that wouldn’t mean he wouldn’t slap her with a vandalism charge. If she were brought before a judge, this time there would be the fact that she hadn’t finished the community service, plus running away again. If she were lucky that would add up to time in juevy. If she were unlucky they’d slap one of those new gadgets on her ankle and give her house arrest. A single tear threatened to spill. She’d kill herself this time, instead of letting that bitch have the pleasure of ending up doing it to her.

She knew she should turn but if it were a cop he’d just have her facing the wall again as soon as she did. If it wasn’t a cop, well she couldn’t allow anyone else to see her weeping. To let that kind of weakness show would mean a whole other kind of judging and the street met out harsh sentences. The scar on her shoulder was reminder of that. There she stood, staring at her own verse, wondering if getting it out of her head had been worth it.

“It’s your best so far.”

“Yes” Jesse said not sure if she was answering the voice behind her or the one inside. Either way it broke her paralysis. She took a step sideways, to get out from between the wall and the man and turned to face him. Once she did, it was clear how he’d read the poem while she’d been writing it; he loomed over her.

Jesse took another step back and the man put his hand up, palms out.

“Hey, relax. Just a fan of your work. It’s Jesse right?”

“So what if it is?” She countered in her most aggressive voice. She was a bit creeped out by the fact that this guy not only seemed to know who she was but had purposely found her just to see her graffiti – if that is his purpose.

“I’m Vaska.” he dropped his hands to his sides and gave a little shrug. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just – well I wanted to see how you worked. You know, was it all worked out on paper first. Or did it flow out of you. I suspected it flowed and now I guess I’m right.”

“It’s not like there’s no work in it you know.” She smacked the side of her temple, “It plays in my damn head for days and I work the words till it feels-.” Jesse realized she’d not only been pulled into talking to this stranger but was explaining her self - her inner self to him. She pushed at the space in front of her. “Yeah know what? Whatever! Glad you liked the poem.” She was turning away from him, towards the other open end of the alley, when he spoke again.

“Have you ever thought about seeing if you could get them published?”

Was he for real? Jesse turned back and stared at him in astounded disgust. She could see him better now. He had moved away to lean his shoulder against the wall and it had brought him into a splash of light from the street.

He was tall. Even leaning she could see he was well over six feet but he was lanky. This didn’t make her any less wary. At over six foot, lanky would out weight her five – four even if she was built like her cow of a mother. She had mostly got her dad’s genes though, add that to the diet her current situation offered and he could probably palm her and carry her off.

He was wearing a scruffy, frayed dark coat. It was long with wide lapels and under it a red t-shirt that advertised some band she’d never heard of which hung over a pair of jeans. His hair was a mop just coming to his shoulders, it was a rich brown but it looked like he’d dyed a single chunk of it a bluish black. His face might have been good looking but she found it too angular. He was smiling disarmingly at her and she couldn’t believe how strong the urge to just talk to him was.

“It really is good enough.” He continued now as though he hadn’t noticed her scrutinizing him. It was then that the sky, which had threatened rain all day, began to make good on the threat. It was just spitting but a rumble indicated it wouldn’t stay that way for long. The desire to hang around and chat dissolved with the rain.

“Thanks. O.K. Really. It’s nice of you to say it. But we both know that ain’t happening.”

Still leaning against the wall, as indifferent to the rain as he’d been to her scrutiny, he went on despite what she’d said.

“Don’t see why not. I’m sure you’re hiding your talent like this for a reason but there’s ways around any obstacle. I know someone - runs an online thing. It pays. Not like much, a few cents a word. But hey, a buck or two now and then, makes a difference doesn’t it?”

“Even if it did, and even if I believed you - it’s not like I’ve got a hotmail address or a bank account.”

“So? I could do the in-between work.” He pushed himself off the wall now, but casually, with out moving towards her. Jesse shifted so she’d be able to run just the same. It was starting to rain in earnest now and she was getting a little sick of this guy’s game.

“Right, with a little off the top for you? More likely you already copied a few and got paid for them and now you don’t feel like hunting all over to find another. And you know what? You won’t have to! ‘Cause I’m never gonna put up another!” She spun and stomped away but not so fast she didn’t hear his answer or the way he sounded truly stung by her words.

“I would never do that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have approached you. Please don’t stop – I’ve become a junky for your words.”

Somehow that seemed like the most horrid and therefore highest praise, someone could say about her verses. She looked back. She told herself it was to make sure he wasn’t following her but that wasn’t all of the reason.

He was gone.

She stopped. He must have full out run to get out of the alley that fast yet she hadn’t heard him doing it. Once more feeling creeped out by the guy who’d called himself Vaska – what kind of a name was that anyway – Jesse hurried to get out of the alley.

She was no more then twenty feet from the street when four guys turned off it into the alley. This isn’t my day, she thought. Then she saw who they were and Jesse had to fight from panicking. Three of the four were bad enough - a crew that she’d been warned by others to ’keep out of their way and they’ll mostly leave you alone’.

Ryan was a recent addition though. He’d belonged to another cadre of those living off what they could but had been kicked out because he’d be doing things that could get the cops serious attention. No one ever said what those things were, but what they didn’t spoke volumes. Apparently he’d attached himself to this group. Jesse didn’t feel it was a positive addition. She was going to just try and sidle past them when Ryan spoke.

“See fella’s – told ya I heard some bitch hollering.”

Even from the distance she was, the smell of hops was strong. Jesse didn’t hesitate a moment longer, she spun and fled down the way she’d just been marveling at how fast Vaska had gone.

The tunnel made of cinderblocks and apartment brick seemed endless and she wished she had legs as long as her admirer. She heard taunts behind her and already they were far too close. Her eyes went longingly to the bottom of the fire escape that was coming up but only barked a harsh laugh of a breath. She was neither tall enough nor heavy enough to get the ladder down. Jesse thought she saw movement on one of the levels of that steel skeleton gripping the side of the apartment. Before she could scream out something slammed into her back. As she was tumbling to the ground, Jesse heard a hollow tin sound.

Her palms erupted in fire as they skidded over the grit on the asphalt but the white-hot pain of her right knee, which had hit first, overwhelmed it. She rolled over onto her side and clutched her knee to her chest. The fresh pain in her hands made her open her eyes. Right beside her, was the lid of a steel garbage can. Jesse realized one of the bastards – One? It was Ryan and you know it – had thrown it at her. She thought of the scar on her shoulder then slowly, as much at a time as her knee would allow, uncurled herself. She flopped to her back and just lie there as the rain pelted her in the face, soaking into her front and back. Just turn off your mind, go somewhere else inside.

Then she saw him on the fire escape above her. He was looking at her and, despite the distance and rain the in her eyes, she clearly saw him. He told her to get up. She could hear the guys taking their time getting to her now. No need to rush. She looked up at him. He could roll down the ladder for her but there was no way she’d be able to climb it with her knee. He was watching her. Hands resting lightly on the thin black rail, dark eyes never flickering away from her face. And then she was getting up.

Jesse heard her attackers comment on her intelligence or more accurately her lack of it: Ryan said it was all right ‘cause he liked a little fight.

Jesse tried hard not to pay attention, not to worry about them – yet. She tested her knee and although it would take her weight she hardly doubted she’d be able to climb. She felt sick but then she saw Vaska casually vault over the railing. He seemed to fall in slow motion. He winked at her and she wiped the rain out of her eyes. It’s the adrenaline. In situations like this, time gets all hinky.

“Hey. You done running honey?” The voice was right behind her. Startled, she turned and looked into Ryan’s eyes. If Vaska had creeped her out, Ryan’s eyes were enough to make here truly bat shit. There was something lurking there that said a lot about how tenuous his hold to sanity was. Only unlike most of them out here whose grasp was so weak, the only thing left behind was sick and ugly.

Ryan started reaching out a hand for her and Vaska, from where he had seemingly appeared beside them, said, “Hands to yourself.”

They both gave a start when he spoke. Jesse used the moment to scramble back as best she could, though it made the throb in her knee a spike. Ryan recovered himself quickly and glared at Vaska. If he was put off by the fact that this guy had a good seven inches on him he didn’t show it. In fact, now that Jesse was looking at the situation, she thought she’d be best to just start away as fast as she could and hope one of the others didn’t hold her till it was done. Ryan was beefy, and none of the other three, though shorter, were any smaller. Plus it was four to one. Then something completely unexpected happened. One of the other guys spoke up.

“Hey Ryan. Let it go. Come on, lets see if we can still get a beer at The Rhino huh?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so Johnny. First I’m going deal with Lurch here, then we can help our selves to some of that.” He made a vague gesture in her direction.”

“Ryan is it?” Vaska inquired, “I think your friend there has come up with the best plan. There is no need for any further violence. You leave the girl alone – forever - and everyone stays happy.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I mean, nice coat asshole. What is it, like a hundred years old? You couldn’t even steal a real coat and you think your gonna be able to take me and my boys?”

“Uh Ryan…” Johnny said hesitantly

“My father gave me this coat, so I’ll have to ask you don’t insult it.”

“Your such a queer.”

“Ryan!”

“What!” Ryan spun around to face Johnny finally. “What? You want to go? Go! We can handle it, can’t we guys.” Ryan grinned at the other two. When they didn’t say anything, looking away instead, he screamed, “What’s wrong with you three?”

Jesse had begun to wonder the same thing. She had noticed long before Ryan had turned, the way in which Johnny had been studying Vaska. The way he’d nudged the others and mouthed things to them. She wiped the water out of her eyes for the hundredth time. The rain was really coming down now but it had washed her palms clean. She should have been taking this opportunity to just get out of there. It was great of Vaska to stand up to them for her and all but there were limits. He was still a stranger and she was still in a potentially nasty place.

It was Johnny who finally answered Ryan. “There’s no way man. I won’t mess with one of them. Nothing good comes from it.”

Ryan’s face was flush; Jesse almost expected to see steam coming out his ears. His eyes had begun to dart back and forth: His hands erratically clenching. “What the hell are you jerk offs babbling about?

“Look at him Ryan. Look.”

Ryan spun around as though Vaska might be attacking while his back was turned but Vaska was still standing, relaxed, right where he had been. A tire iron had appeared in Ryan’s hands when he spun. Jesse was glad it hadn’t been that Ryan had thrown at her. A moment later she felt guilty for the thought. One on one it would have been a tough call between the two but the tire iron suddenly tipped the scales. The good feeling she’d been getting that the other three weren’t going to get involved had disappeared. It was the speed that it had just appeared that really made her worry for Vaska.

Ryan spread his hands out. “What?”

“Look! Really look at him. For Christ’s sake”

Now even Jesse was looking, really looking, at him and she was seeing. Vaska gave her a grin while she blinked three times in rapid succession. It was easy to not notice it in the downpour but impossible to imagine you could have, once you saw it. He was dry. Vaska’s hair was just as it had been when she’d been talking to him earlier; the water was just beading and bouncing off him. Not just his hair but also his clothes and even his face.

Ryan caught the stunned look on her face and it was too much for him. With a curse, he swung the tire iron down. Jesse screamed even as Vaska took a quick step to the side and missed being hit by less then an inch.

Instead of moving or retaliating Vaska simply said, “Go away now Ryan.”

Ryan swung again and Vaska stepped out of the way effortlessly. Once more Ryan tried and it was as though Vaska had never been there in the first place - but only by an inch or so. By now though Vaska had rotated around so that Ryan faced her and the rest of them were beside him.

The fourth strike. Vaska caught Ryan’s wrist on its way past and twisted it. The tire iron spiraled away as Ryan gave a cry of pain. Then Vaska, holding up his one arm like a parent with an errant child, slapped him with the flat of his hand three times. It had to be the most humiliating way that Vaska could have treated him. He had publicly treated him like a child. Ryan would have a bruised face and a swollen lip for a time and it would be clear it wasn’t a fist.

Jesse overwhelmed by it all, the effective removal of Ryan from any social context on the street, her own rescue and the fact that it was by a stranger who was standing in a down pour remaining dry – and don’t forget the way he came down from the fire escape. Suddenly she found she was giggling uncontrollably, then she was crying but she didn’t care now. It wouldn’t show much in this rain and she had a feeling nobody in this alley was going to mention if she sobbed.

Vaska came near with out getting too close and asked if she was all right. She felt she was going start laughing again. After all that, he didn’t want to startle her by coming too close. After how fast she saw he could move, after he’d helped her for no reason. Maybe the reason will come yet. Unable to trust herself not to bray either a sob or a laugh, she only nodded.

“Good. You can walk?” Again she found it easier to just nod. “They’re not going to bother you again, I shouldn’t think. You going to be ok?”

- Now it comes, let me walk you somewhere. You got a place ’cause you could come home with me. He doesn’t get wet in the RAIN! -

Once more, the all purpose movement of the head. “Alright then. If you change your mind, about the verses being somewhere other then the wall just let people know your looking for me. The ones who are painting the underpasses or talking to the little people, tell them you want me and I’ll find you.”

Jesse watched as he wandered off into the rain, his hair bouncing, his step easy and light. Almost she called out to ask, but there were already enough things she couldn’t work out in her life, what was one more? She tilted her head back and let the rain run over her face. She opened her mouth -and drank in a few of the stars above her tears’ - and with that line spinning in her head, gathering new words to it, she hobbled to the street.

 

Little Paybacks

By R.M. Ridley

Ansgar sat on Lloyd’s fore arm, resting his back against the man’s bicep. One leg was folded under the other, which dangled into the plastic coffee mug that Lloyd had tucked between his arm and leg. There were a few coins in the cup, not many, and most of those were dimes but occasionally Ansgar would kick his leg and then the change would jump and jangle. Sendoa thought that it was probably safe to not say anything about it. The Delve was almost as fast as he was, and in that loose, brown thing he wore, Ansgar looked more like a fold in Lloyd’s outermost coat then anything else.

Sendoa couldn’t help it and ran a hand down his own coat. It was so soft and he loved the grey color, especially the fact that it was tipped with black. It had been the fact that the mouse’s fur had been near identical to his own hair color that caused Sendoa to hunt down the rodent. - Ironic really, that which had caused its owner’s demise was its fur’s ability to save MY life.-

“Oh, cut it out.” Ansgar grumbled.

“Hey, I remember when your boy made you that new pipe. You couldn’t keep it out of sight for a full cycle of the moon.”

Lloyd chuckled, his laugh low and hearty. It was followed by a cough that was brief but rattled deep in the man’s chest. Both sprites tried to hide from the man, the concerned it caused them.

“What of it?” Ansgar rebutted, not letting the issue go so easy, “Simply a father’s pride in his son’s abilities. Something you, Sendoa, would do well to get around to finding out about.”

“For such a small one, you’re chalk full of it ain’t yea?” Lloyd joked affectionately. He appeared to be talking to himself though; of the sprites there was only an extra fold of his coat, between the leg and arm.

The woman who had turned the corner, her long expensive coat open to the evening air, swinging a paper bag from a near by market, stepped as far from Lloyd as she could with out hitting the parking meter. Lloyd was used to this. Even when he wasn’t apparently talking to himself, very few people did anything but avoid him. Most tried to avoid him while simultaneously pretending they didn’t see him.

When Ansgar dove into the space in which he now hid however, he’d caused the cup to move and the coins inside to rattle. The toll of the beggar had been sounded. It seemed the combination of his presence taking space on the sidewalk, added with begging, was too much for her.

She gave Lloyd a disdainful glare as she passed and muttered the word ‘Pathetic’.

Sendoa’s voice whispered from behind Lloyds back. “Bitch.” Then, “Ansgar, you thinking what I am?”

“Now boys. No need for any…”

Ansgar cut off Lloyd, his voice barely pitched below normal. “Careful who your ‘boy-ing’ there - we both have at least a couple decades on you.” Then the delve started sniffing the air and talking. “A few, oranges. Some meat - turkey and ham, potatoes, one or two sweet ones too, dozen eggs - right at the bottom and nuts – walnut.”

This wasn’t the first time they’d played this game. Sendoa stepped out from behind the small of Lloyd’s back, even as Ansgar hoisted himself onto the human’s leg. “ I’ll get the eggs if you can split that bag.”

“If I can split the…Bite your tongue, scamp!” Ansgar sputtered. The next moment the woman’s fancy paper bag split it’s length. The carton of eggs dropped two inches, stopped, and then settled to the sidewalk just as the woman was reacting to the fact that her bag had burst.

Cursing the bag, the day and using ethnic slurs on the owners of the market, she tried to gather back up her treats. The task was made difficult by the interference of the Sprites. Her oranges rolled every which way like billiard balls after a drunkard’s break. The flimsy plastic bag the potatoes were in opened, spilling the small yellow tubers. The two brown wrapped packages slapped the sidewalk; right next to a brown paper bag the size of Lloyd’s fist.

“Those are the walnuts.” Ansgar said from above him. Sendoa looked over his shoulder and saw the desire written on the delve’s face. Sendoa grinned and, even as Ansgar realized his friend was about to do something crazy, was running. A lifetime of staying alive kept him from yelling out; instead he muttered, “That one’s a fool Lloyd.”

“Maybe. Maybe he just needs to feel alive sometimes. Courting death is certainly one way of going ‘bout it.” The delve looked up at his hairy faced companion to find him looking down in return, “My life may be shorter then yours but don’t fool your self, it wasn’t all spent sleeping on city streets.”

They both turned back in time to see Sendoa reach the woman. She was still crouched over trying unsuccessfully to gather all her groceries and not touch the sidewalk with her knees at the same time. It had threatened to rain all day and now the first small drop fell.

“Shit!” the woman nearly screamed in frustration. She had managed to tuck the eggs into her coat pocket on one side and was jamming the plastic bag with two large sweet potatoes into the other. It was at that moment that Sendoa, now running on his hands and feet and resembling nothing short of the world ugliest rat, reached her.

The woman screamed, shot upright, then pranced around. Sendoa had already grabbed the bag of walnuts with one hand and was dragging it towards a drain spout. Ansgar was fairly certain that his friend was safe both from the woman going any where near him or figuring out he wasn’t a rodent.

“Still, was damn risky. If she hadn’t been so scared of rats…” he let the thought go. In a clear act of defiance to everything, the woman grabbed the single orange that had come to rest near her, then spun and stalked away. She gave the drainpipe a wide breath as she went.

The potatoes would to be hard for Ansgar to move; they were too lumpy and were still mostly in the bag. He left them for the moment and began to coax the oranges to roll towards where he and Lloyd where. After a minute, the end of the little bag dropped out of the drain and then Sendoa’s head popped out, hanging nearly upside down. He peered one way then the other. Seeing it was safe, he slid out and tumbled to his feet. He picked up the bag, slung it over his shoulder and sauntered towards them. By the time he arrived, his mischievous grin had not dissipated any.

“Did you hear that scream?”

“People in Niagara heard that scream.” Lloyd shook his head and reached out to grab one of the oranges that had got caught on cracked section of cement.

“Yeah.” Sendoa said with a proud smile and popped the bag down below Ansgar.

“Yeah,” grumbled Ansgar, “ and what if someone had come to see what it was it about?” Both scamp and human regarded the delve with skepticism. “It could happen.” He sighed as their expressions didn’t change. “Come on, help me drag the bag of potatoes over here before someone else gets ‘em.”

Sendoa spiraled the last two oranges to Lloyd, where they nearly rolled right into his lap, as they walked over to the bag of potatoes.

“This bag won’t drag even that little bit - going to have to hoist it. You get the front, I’ll get the back.” Sendoa said and positioned himself accordingly. They almost lost the whole lot but managed to get the bag up on their heads and carried it like portaging a canoe. As soon as they were in reach, Lloyd relieved them of their burden and both sagged slightly in relief.

“Where are the meats?” Sendoa asked.

Ansgar sniffed the air once and shrugged, “She must have picked them up.”

“Ah well, I still have some of the mouse anyways. With a bit of one of those spuds, I’ll have a great stew. What are you doing?”

Ansgar looked up from where he had dumped the walnuts on the sidewalk. The rain was starting to take itself seriously now but it was not too bad were they were. The building had an overhang and it kept all but the worse of the rain from hitting here unless the wind picked up.

“Divvying them up.” he answered as though the scamp had asked how many eyes he’d been born with.

“One by one?”

“That way I know we all get equal portions. I don’t want you thinking I got more than you or anything.”

“Ansgar, I don’t care! I don’t even think I can carry a potato and walnuts – especially loose walnuts.”

“They won’t be loose, I’m going to wrap them in some plastic bag from the potatoes and make a sling of them.”

“Clever.”

“Stay out of this Lloyd,” Sendoa warned. “ Look delve. It’s raining, I have to get home and, for me, it’s late. Just take the lot of them, divide them roughly down the middle and give one half to Lloyd and keep the other.”

‘Oh no! You don’t get to tell everyone about that daring, and may I point out incredibly STUPID, stunt and then claim that you never even ate one of the damn nuts!”

Sendoa reached out, grabbed a bit of nut, crammed it in his mouth, chewed dramatically and swallowed in the same fashion. “Yum. Now, I’ll see you both later.”

‘That was from Lloyd’s pile.”

“Aarrgh!” Sendoa hoisted a potato to his chest and walked to the edge of the over hang. He looked up and shook his head “It’s going to take forever for my coat to dry.”

“Enough with the coat!”

Sendoa gave Lloyd a wink and then said, “Do me a favour and make sure you eat all those oranges huh? I don’t like the sound of your chest.”

The man nodded, “I’ll do that Sendoa, I may be missing a leg but not my wits.”

“Wits are what counts.“ the scamp agreed, and quickly slipped out of sight.

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