In All of Infinity (3 page)

“I don’t recall my life being any of your
business,” Emmanuel said and lit a cigarette. It was another habit
he’d picked up from his aunt: smoking to relieve anxiety. He hadn’t
started until the day after Esme’s funeral.

“Son, we’re practically related. Of course
your life is my business, but, if you don’t want to speak to me
about it, then…alright. I won’t force you.”

“Since when did you become so concerned? Are
you expecting Camie to sign over everything to you? I’m not going
to let that happen. I’ll fight you in court.”

Peter tensed and met Emmanuel’s eyes, then
took a sip of tea to down his food. He threw back his head and
began laughing. The mirth he was feeling wasn’t mutual, and
Emmanuel merely stared at him in shock, waited for the laughter to
subside. It continued until Peter was gasping for breath, tears
streaming down his face.

“It’s great to have you back, boy!” he said
and began eating heartily, a bite here, a bit there, and a sip of
tea. “I’ve missed your sense of humor.”

“I’m serious.”

“Boy, don’t go making me laugh again. My
sides are already hurting.” He took another bite of his baked
potato and chewed thoughtfully. He at last looked at Emmanuel, the
startled expression still on his face. “You don’t know, do you?
Emmanuel, son, Camie and I have been married for fifteen
years.”

Camie returned and placed the plate before
her nephew, then sat down and took Peter’s hand. She smiled at him
and Emmanuel realized the truth, saw the glint of gold on their
fingers. They were married.

“Camie, I thought you told the poor boy we
were married,” Peter said, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he
looked from one to the other. He settled on Camie’s eyes and they
appeared to be filled with love, but Emmanuel doubted it was
genuine, unconditional love. He further doubted Peter even knew the
meaning of the word.

“Well, I was planning to, don’t get me
wrong, but I was waiting for the right time,” she said and gazed at
Emmanuel. “Honey, Peter and I are happily married, and we have been
for fifteen years, six months, and two days. I wanted to tell you,
but you’d already disappeared into your work. Now that you’re
married, I’m sure you’ll understand what love is like.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied bitterly,
taking a toke and exhaling, letting the smoke engulf him. He
realized they were looking at him. He heard the Grandfather clock
strike the one o’clock hour, which had been the hour of her
funeral. “She died. She’s been in the ground for an entire week,
decaying, with our unborn child resting in her maggot filled womb.
Love doesn’t exist for me anymore, because it’s nothing more than a
word used by poets. Death is all I know. It haunts me. Beckons me.
Love lasts only for a moment; death lasts forever.” He stared at
the glass of tea before him, suddenly feeling an overwhelming
fascination about it. “We cannot capture life like we can
water…”

He put out his cigarette in the nearby
ashtray, pulled himself from the table, and stood looking down at
them.

“Emmanuel—” Camie began, tears falling down
her face. “Emmanuel—”

“I’m sorry if I ruined your appetites. I’ll
be leaving now,” he said and looked towards the door where he’d
entered. “Farewell, Aunt Camie. Peter.”

They did not follow him. If they called his
name, he would not have turned. His mind was elsewhere, thinking of
something far greater than conversation. He was thinking of ways he
could capture life.

When Emmanuel returned to York County,
everything was as he’d left it a fortnight ago. He retrieved his
key from his trusted neighbor, who looked at him as if he’d lost
his mind. After all, with the way he’d left, no one expected to see
him return. The neighbor, who happened to be Father Brevard, the
man who’d presided over his wedding and wife’s death, could only be
trusted because he was a man of the cloth. There were many people
in York County that Emmanuel had known longer, but none of them had
been so connected to him and his wife. After all, he was
responsible for bringing them together.

As Emmanuel walked away
from Father Brevard’s house, stuffing his hands in his pockets, he
knew he was being watched.
Poor
widow
, he knew they thought.
Look at him: he’s so pitiful. He’s such a
disgrace. Sulking here, there, and now I hear he’s going to defeat
death. Oh, he’s an awful sight!
With a
shrug towards the wind, he decided he didn’t give a damn what they
thought.

He marched up the lane, looking towards the
sky that was as black with the threat of rain as the day when he
left. For a moment, he associated himself with the darkness and
realized how similar they were. Emmanuel shrugged the thought aside
and continued on, attempting to whistle, but he realized he wasn’t
in the mood for song and dance. He was in the mood for silence, so
he stayed that way until he reached his familiar house.

When he was safe inside, he put the keys in
his pocket and walked into the living room. The smell of jasmine
had almost disappeared, as if Esme hadn’t existed at all. He could
no longer picture her reclining on the couch, her smooth hands
calling for him, wanting him to feel the movement of their unborn
child. She was no longer with him, and that was as it should be for
she wouldn’t approve of what he was planning.

Emmanuel tried to remember why he had ever
been happy, but surrendered and walked towards the fireplace. He
stared at it, amazed in the difference between how it was now and
the day of her death. When she passed on, the fire was burning,
roaring with a life she no longer possessed, but now it was so cold
that the wood appeared frozen. He could hear the sound of wind
coming from the chimney before he felt the blast on his face.

Emmanuel stood silently for a minute before
opening the matchbox on the mantle and setting the wood ablaze. He
watched it for a moment, and then rushed upstairs with the keys
jingling in his pocket. Although his plan was a simple one, to
completely remove her presence from his house, a part of him
wrestled with his brain. It was his heart. The brain and body
functioned as one as he took her possessions to the attic. Her
feminine clothing, pictures, jewelry, parchment, and everything on
the vanity table (including the jasmine) were deposited in a corner
of the attic furthest from his view. When Emmanuel had at last
brought up the vanity table and mirror, he covered them with a
sheet. He stood staring across the room, knowing the white sheet
covered his past, almost like a ghost. He attempted to calm his
heart that threatened to give out on him.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he realized that
he was crying. He captured a few tears with his finger and looked
at it, wondering if capturing life would be the same as capturing
teardrops.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and
looked towards the sheet again. “Farewell, dearest bride.
Farewell.”

Emmanuel walked down the steps and out the
door, shutting it resolutely behind him. He locked the door and
took the key to the attic off the chain, then pushed it under. With
a deep breath, he continued on his way…forever without Esme.

***

Emmanuel covered every article of furniture
upstairs with spare sheets, closing and locking each door before
his heart could get caught up in what he was doing. When he was
finished at last, he started down the stairs, fiddling with the
keys in his pockets. He paused halfway when he heard a knock on the
door. Since he wasn’t in the mood for visitors, he went on his way
towards the living room, trying to get lost in the tune he was
whistling. The visitor didn’t stop; another knock landed, then
another, and another.

He was short of patience presently, so he
walked towards the door, rested his ear against it while one hand
held the knob. “Who’s there?” He didn’t hear a word, but he was
pleased that the person had stopped knocking. Emmanuel pulled away
but jumped when he heard a loud bang, almost as if a large rock had
been thrown at his door.

He threw open the door, rage consuming his
calm. No one was there! He looked at the damage done to his door,
saw a dark piece of wood nailed there, with a symbol painted red in
the center of it. Emmanuel had never seen such a symbol. It was
horseshoe shape, with the rounded end pointing up, and there were
three dots: two inside the circle while one was outside. Since he
wasn’t one for art, especially the kind illegally hammered on his
door, he looked around his yard more and saw two dark cloaked
figures staring at him.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he exclaimed
and gestured at his door. “Answer me!”

Emmanuel continued looking at them, his fury
greater now that he could see them. He started across the porch,
then went back to lock his door. He didn’t realize until he’d taken
a step down that the people, whoever they were, were gone. Instead
of feeling relieved, he became agitated, perturbed. He wanted to
release his rage on someone before he exploded.

He turned, saw them standing behind him, and
nearly fell backwards. They caught him, steadied him, but didn’t
release their hold. He attempted to see their faces but the hoods
were large and covered them. He could feel a slight tremble in the
hand of the individual on his right, the one dressed in blue; but
the other, dressed in red, was firm.

Almost as if they had one mouth, they began
speaking, “Emmanuel Reagan, doctor and friend, we have placed this
here for your protection. If you remove it, you will bring evil
unimaginable into your home. Do you understand?”

He felt as if they were trying to put him
under a trance, and recalled a similar time in his childhood. It
was the summer of his thirteenth year when Magnificent Amadeus, a
magician who claimed he could hypnotize anyone, came to Somerville.
He was able to hypnotize everyone he met, except for the teenager,
but that was because Emmanuel couldn’t stay focused on being
entranced. His mind was like a train that could switch tracks any
second, but with more tracks because he could think in several
different directions at once.

“What evil?”

They realized their lulling tones weren’t
affecting him, so they released their grip. He realized they were
both women now, but that was all he could fully understand. He
didn’t know what they meant, who they were, and especially not why
they were here. Why did he need protection?

“You cannot bring her back,” the blue one
said.

Emmanuel looked at her, seeing only darkness
when he tried looking at her face. He felt as if he knew her, but
realized that wasn’t possible. In not knowing these women, he felt
glad. He wasn’t planning on inviting them in for coffee and
doughnuts, and especially not for conversation. Oftentimes, even
though he didn’t entirely believe it, he’d been told he was a
wonderful talker.

“Evil unlike anything this world has ever
seen,” the other answered, sliding one hand inside the sleeve of
the other. “She would be pleased to know you would go to such a
great length, but—” she took the other woman’s hand “—nothing you
do will ever bring her back to you. She has ascended to a higher
plane; she is at peace with herself.”

“I don’t remember asking your advice…or your
so-called protection,” he replied assuredly and walked between
them, heading towards the door. “If I did, I must have been out of
my mind.”

“This is our final warning to you, doctor:
do not remove the sign. If you remove the sign, we cannot help you.
The evil will enter your house and affect your world in ways that
are beyond what we can decipher. They will do anything and
everything to take from you what is rightfully yours. They will
tempt you to do wrong, rewrite what you think is right. They will
destroy you first, and by your service they will have the
opportunity to destroy all.”

Emmanuel turned with spiteful words on his
tongue, but realized they were gone. He started staring at the sign
again. He was sure that he could remove it with a hammer, stuff the
holes with putty, and paint the door again. It was simple work,
unlike capturing life.

***

Emmanuel delved into his work for months,
managing to invent many mechanical devices throughout the first
floor that he put to use. He created small toys and had them
walking, saying certain words, doing certain things. Still, though,
no matter how many functional beings he created, he continued to
look for ways to bring life into them. At the end of the day, when
he lay resting on the sofa, he knew he could do better.

If Esme had seen him, she would feel pity
for him because he was a sight. Emmanuel didn’t bathe except for
washing himself off in the downstairs bathroom sink, and he only
did this when he knew that he smelled horrible. He didn’t shave and
slept close to four hours every night, dreaming of his work the
entire time. As for doing anything recreational, he had given up on
everything, everyone, and lived his life alone. He needed to be
alone.

The weather around the house changed, going
from a windy autumn to a freezing winter. Although the other
residents of York County tried to reach him, especially the friends
he and Esme had been close to, he ignored them and put a sign on
the door saying he didn’t want to be disturbed. The sign was simple
in meaning, but it affected everyone in a negative way because they
remembered how he used to be. He even shut Father Brevard out, but
his wife continued coming by and leaving jarred preserves and
vegetables she got from her garden at his door.