Aris Returns (19 page)

The King hit the ball and a fast and furious match was on. Henry roared with laughter
and anger. He played with the power and vigor of a much younger man. As I raced back
and forth I wondered at the number of games the King must have played on this court
in Windsor Castle. Even at his large size, he was a formidable opponent. The match
would have been much more difficult to draw had he been younger and leaner even for
my supernatural self. I was glad he was not.

At last, dripping with sweat and out of breath, Henry called a draw and came toward
the net with a deep laugh, holding out his arms to
embrace me. “A fine contest, my Spanish friend.”

My bow was sincere, “I am with the Spanish envoy, however, I am not Spanish your Grace.”
I knew where his loyalties were rooted, in England and away from the Pope.

His coppery eyebrows raised in question. “Not Spanish?” He wiped his brow with a white
towel handed him by one of his gentlemen.

“I am from a very old and distant land, your Majesty.” Again, I bowed as I spoke.

“I will hear more of this land. Walk with me.” He handed the towel back to his man
as we turned to leave the court followed by his inner circle of friends.

Walking through the gardens, we enjoyed the warm air of mid-day. He questioned me
on my country, my heritage. I told wild and improbable stories that he believed to
the fullest. As a man among men, he believed all difficulties could be overcome and
he respected those who overcame them. In my stories, I was such a man. Again, I was
invited to dine with the court and again I attended. Soon, I was assigned a permanent
place in the court and enjoyed the King’s favor.

“Sarah, do you grow tired of my stories?”

Startled back into real time, Sarah swallowed, then answered, “That’s hardly the word
for how I feel about your stories. They fascinate me.”

“I am happy to be fascinating to such a charming woman as you.”
His flirtatious tone and attitude surprised Sarah and she smiled despite herself.

“Let’s go back to Tudor England, shall we?” With a determined tone, she regained control
of the conversation. “When did you hear again from Richard and Gabriela?”

Richard and Gabriela found me one dark night in the garden. I finished drinking and
was making my way back to my rooms when they stepped from behind a hedge. Gabriela
came forward to embrace me while Richard stood behind her. She was glad to tell me
they spoke to the
council and the oldest ones of all agreed to meet with me. I was to be shown to the
council sanctuary below the city in the Catacombs. I was to meet the wisest of my
kind. I felt exaltation at finding I would learn what I was capable of at last.

“You see, Sarah, it keeps coming back to that, doesn’t it? Finding one’s own kind.
Finding one’s mate.”

“Aris, I can only imagine how it must have felt to you. My logical mind can’t begin
to comprehend what it must have been like to have thought you were the only one of
your kind on earth. The isolation.” She looked at the floor for a moment to compose
her thoughts, and then back at her subject. “So, you met the oldest ones?”

“That, dear Sarah, is for a future conversation. Our Carlos
grows
restless. I will leave you now until next time.”

Sarah was always amazed by the change in the expression on the face of her subject
when Carlos again took control of his subconscious. A different man and a different
time. Which was the one who called to her? She stared at his face for a few moments
before counting him into real time once again. “Which is real time?” She wondered,
“And to whom?”

#

Carlos leaned back in the recliner, rubbing his eyes. “It just keeps getting better
and better, doesn’t it? I’m glad you’re recording this whole thing. We can write a
book and split the profits.” He laughed as he sat up.

“If you’re not in too much of a hurry today, I’d like to talk a little more about
your family.”

His spine stiffened as he stood, turning his back to her. “You know I don’t like to
do that.”

“I understand but I need more information about this incarnation before I can tie
anything to it from the regressions.”

After a moment, he faced her. “Okay.” He moved a wingback
chair close to her. He sat, facing her. “You win. Shoot.”

She ruffled through the file folder she held on her lap. “We finished up just when
you were born. What happened after your father came back from burying your grandfather?”

“Yeah, well, he kept drinking. Crazy as it seems, when he wasn’t drunk, he treated
us pretty well. They had another kid, my brother, Javier. I don’t know why but as
time passed, my old man drank more, the hard stuff. He got meaner and meaner. When
he’d start up, I’d hide under my bed. I remember I’d cover my ears with my hands to
try to make the shouting go away. As I got older, it didn’t tear me up as bad when
he was beating on me as when he was going after my mother or brother.

“One Saturday he started drinking at breakfast and was raving by noon. Things changed
that day. My little brother spilled milk all over the table. My old man took off his
belt and began to swing at him. Something tweaked in my head and I started hitting
him with my fists. I was only ten but I was big for a kid my age. I got him good a
couple of times. That made him nuts. He broke my nose and cracked a couple of ribs.
I swore one day I would make sure he never hit any of us again.

“Time passed but things stayed pretty much the same except Javier and me, we learned
to stay out of his way. I grew taller and bigger than he was. Once I started high
school, he left me alone. He knew I’d stand up for Javier so he backed off from him
too. And I never saw him hit my mother again.”

She took notes on a yellow tablet. Bonnie teased her about her hand written notes
but she thought a laptop made the session too impersonal. “What about high school?”

“We lived in a pretty good section of town but I didn’t fit in with the kids from
my own neighborhood. They were all from middle-class families with normal lives so
I just stayed by myself most of the time. Then they started bussing kids in from the
barrio. They
were more my style. I guess I was a perfect recruit for the imported bangers.

“The guys were cool and friendly to me. The leader was the oldest one, Manu. He was
already a petty thief but I didn’t know it then. I guess he saw me as a way to get
to the kids with money; I was someone he thought could help him steal from the homes
in my neighborhood. He really courted me.

“And I was glad. I was tired of hanging alone all the time. He introduced me to alcohol
and drugs. He made me feel like I was finally part of something. I still can’t separate
myself completely from the guys. They’re more family to me than my blood.”

“But if you knew he was using you, why did you stick it out?”

“I wanted a tribe. Manu showed me one. He took me for my first tattoo. He was like
an older brother to me, I guess. He introduced me to his sister Maria. He really protected
her. He said he knew I’d take care of her and respect her. And I did.

“One night I had a huge blow up at home. I slammed out of the house, found Manu and
told him I was ready to make it official.

“In order to be initiated, I had to steal a car. I did and brought it to Manu. He
sold it. He gave me some money from the sale. ‘Easy money,’ he said. ‘The insurance
company takes the fall, it’s just a business.’ I figured I could do a couple of jobs
a month and maybe get my brother out of that crazy house.

“So I started my life of crime,” he smiled sarcastically. “Eventually I got caught,
did a little time and got paroled. When I got out, I went down to see the guys. When
I found them, they were high and Manu was bragging about a drive by. Everybody was
laughing and joking about this kid who was shot. After spending time in jail, hearing
those guys talk woke me up. I saw what I was becoming and it scared me. I asked Colleen
to help me and she got me into rehab. It’s been tough but I’m still straight. I plan
on staying that way.”

“Carlos, what did you do after you graduated high school?”

“I didn’t graduate. I ran away and lived in the streets. I lived with one or another
of the guys. I wouldn’t stay more than a couple of nights at any one place. If there
was a job, I’d stay in a cheap motel. I know it sounds rotten but it wasn’t all bad.

“The half-way house is the first permanent home I’ve had where I really feel safe.
It means a lot, but at the same time, all my buddies think I’ve turned on them. I
don’t hang with them. I even stopped seeing Maria. I’ve lost the only family I ever
had. Those people accepted me for who I am. No, who I was. I’m not even sure who I
am right now.”

“I understand Carlos. There have been so many changes in such a short time.”

“Part of it has to do with the vamp. Sometimes it’s like Aris is an older brother
too and a lot tougher than Manu.”

The spring twilight gave a glow to Sarah’s blond hair. Carlos wanted to take her in
his arms but he knew she wouldn’t let him. He wondered why he was telling her his
life story. He supposed that part of it was her obvious innocence. It made him trust
her. He believed she really wanted to help him stay straight. But why was he so attracted
to a woman so much older than he was? Why did he want her so much? That was a question
that had no answer. He watched her as she wrote on the tablet.

“Say Sarah, you seem pretty wrapped up in Aris yourself. Sometimes I wonder if these
sessions haven’t just become a meeting ground for you and the vamp.”

“Don’t be silly Carlos. You are the vamp.”

He thought about her words for a moment then smiled.

“J
eff, I thought I told you I couldn’t help you with your domestic difficulties.” She
took the phone off speaker and raised the handset to her ear.

“Sarah, it’s more than that. I need to see you.” The voice on the other end of the
phone was pleading. “I need to talk to you about more than my marriage.”

“Look, I’m sorry you are having trouble but I can’t help you.” She swiveled her desk
chair toward the window, the movement she always made when she didn’t want to face
an issue. The city was something so much bigger than she was, a few million lives
that didn’t come to her for therapy. Somehow, seeing the size of the city and realizing
the number of stories in it, she was able to cope with her own scenario a lot easier.
“I told you, you need a therapist who isn’t involved in this.”

“I don’t want your expertise.” There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.
“I need your friendship.”

The flat, pensive tone to his voice made her realize he wasn’t just being dramatic,
he was really in need. She worked for months in therapy to make sure he would never
manipulate her again and yet here it was, she couldn’t help herself. “All right Jeff.
Let’s meet for drinks at The Bistro. Half an hour?”

The uplifted change in his tone was noticeable. “Great. Half an hour.”

#

She arrived before he did. She settled on a stool at the bar. As she waited, she decided
this was a meeting warranting something a little stronger than a merlot. “A green
apple martini,” she told the bartender as he leaned forward to hear her through the
noise of happy hour.

“You got it miss.” He moved away from her, grabbing a shaker. He tossed the bottle
of vodka in the air, catching it behind his back. “He’s seen way too many movies,”
she thought just as she felt a hand touch her arm.

“Sarah.” Jeff sat on the stool next to her. “You look great.”

“Yeah, well what is this all about?”

He cleared his throat. “Let me order a drink first.” He signaled the bartender. She
was surprised when he ordered scotch.

“Since when did you start drinking whiskey?”

“About two months after I married Susan.” He laughed a short, ironic chuckle. “I thought
she was everything I wanted, easy to be with, undemanding. I liked that she thought
I was perfect.” He turned to look at his ex-wife. “We got married and it all changed.”
When his drink was placed on the bar, he picked it up. He downed it in one swallow.

Sarah looked at him in amazement. She had never seen him so upset, so out of control.

“Look, Jeff. I really can’t counsel you on your marriage.” She sipped her drink carefully
as she wondered what he was getting at. “Don’t you think it’s a little outrageous
for you to come to me for advice?”

He leaned toward her and reached for her hand. “It isn’t advice I want, Sarah.” He
looked down at the bar. He paused. When he spoke, he looked up, catching and holding
her eyes with his. “It’s
reconciliation.”

“Are you crazy?” She didn’t think before the words fell from her lips. “You have trouble
with Cinderella and you come back here for advice and pity?” She stood behind the
bar stool. “Reconciliation? I can’t even respond to that.”

Turning on her heel, she grabbed her bag. She left the bar just as the home team scored
and everyone cheered.

#

Lincoln Park was bursting with green. The trees finally awakened after their long
winter sleep. Flowers budded along the sidewalk as the two friends looked for an empty
bench to share their lunch. They were happy to find the hotdog vender back in business.
Chicago dogs on soft steamed buns with pickles, onions, tomato and celery salt couldn’t
be beat. They both piled mustard and relish on the top, wrapped them back in the sturdy
white paper they came in and searched for a place to sit.