Penult (13 page)

“
Sounds fishy,” I
said.

“
I found them in Leeds,”
said Karla. “They said they had not seen Izzie since leaving
Cardiff. I believed them. They were gentle boys. How you say? Emo?
Not the kind who would hurt her.”

“
She had wanted to go to
London,” said Jess. “She always talked about it. Never anything
specific. It was just a place she wanted to go.”

Karla nodded. “Papa never let us
linger there. Sometimes we passed through. Izzie was fascinated. I
went to London and looked there, too. All over. I slept many days
among the homeless. Showing her picture. Nothing.” Her gaze fell to
cracked tiles of the parlor floor.

“
Oh, I bet she’s just
fine,” said Fiona. “She was a resourceful gal, that one. She knew
how get things without money, that’s for sure. Good at making
friends and getting people to help her.”

Fiona slapped a deck of cards onto the
table. “How about a game of Spades? Anyone?”

Karla’s eyes had gone blank. I tried
to get her attention but she got up and went up into the attic
without even looking at me. She just up and left.

The ladies looked at each
other.

“
Don’t just sit there,”
said Helen. “Go see to your girl.”

I went up and found Karla laying on
the futon staring at the ceiling. I lay down next to her and she
squirmed away.

“
What’s wrong?”

“
Don’t touch me. I’m trying
to surf.”

“
Really? Now? Do you have
to? Why don’t you stay here with us? Come on down and play some
cards.”

“
No.”

“
Why do you have to go
there? You think you’re going to find her there? You don’t even
know if she’s crossing, and even if she does, the odds of you two
being there at the same time are … remote.”

“
Come with me,” she said,
her eyes pleading. She stretched out her hand to me.

“
I … can’t. I told
you.”

She snapped her hand back. “Then leave
me alone. One of us needs to go. We need to know why they want you
there so badly. Why they hurt our friends. And yes, I need to make
sure Isobel is not there … stuck in some pod again.”

“
Why would she be in a pod?
She broke out. I mean … I was never in a pod after the first few
times. I always went back to wherever I left off. Except … that
once.”

“
Because sometimes people
regress. Now stay away. Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me. I need to
set the mood.”

I sighed and got up from the futon and
went back downstairs. The ladies were all eyes as I came down the
steps.

“
She wants to be
alone.”

“
Oh? Had a little tiff did
you?” said Britt.

“
Not really. She just wants
to be alone.”

“
She probably just needs
some space to clear her head,” said Helen.

I sat down and Britt fetched me a
glass and filled it halfway with bubbly.

“
Hey … uh … did Izzie ever
happen to mention a place called Root?”

“
Root?” said Helen. “You
mean that place you used to go sometimes? In your head?”

“
It’s not in his head,”
said Jess.

Fiona piped up. “She did mention
feeling down on occasion and having these … visions, if that’s what
you mean.”

“
They’re not visions,” said
Jessica. “Root is real.”

“
Oh?” I said. “Have you
gone, Jess?”

“
Me? Heck no. Too happy, I
guess. Can’t you tell from my sunny disposition? I just believe in
it. I’ve just seen you in your trances. And the stories you and
Karla both tell me, they’re too consistent, too vivid to be
false.”

“
Where is this place?” said
Fiona.

“
I want to see!” said
Britt. “Can we go? How do we get there?”

“
It’s a threshold to the
afterlife,” I said. “You can’t just go there. It has to come to
you. Karla thinks if she can find Izzie there, maybe she can find
out where she is in this world. And that’s why I came downstairs.
Because she’s up there trying to … surf.”

“
She’s surfing,” said
Britt, smirking.

“
On a futon,” said
Fiona.

Everyone burst out giggling but me.
They all had had a little too much wine to take anything seriously,
but I didn’t hold it against them. I just took a long swig of my
Prosecco in hopes of catching up with whatever state of
intoxication they had already achieved.

“
I’ve had weird dreams
too,” said Fiona. “When I was depressed.”

“
Were you ever suicidal?
Because … that’s what it takes … to get there.”

“
No. Not quite. I was just
miserable.”

“
Who knows? Maybe you had a
glimpse. But the roots generally don’t come for you you’re at the
end of your rope. You have to want out of this world to get into
Root.”

“
So what’s it like there?”
said Fiona.

“
Well … it’s pretty
horrible at first … if you just let things happen to you. There are
these stinking tunnels and pods that bind you up and Reapers that …
reap you.. But, like everything, the place is what you make of it.
Only more so. In Root, everyone has the ability to … shape things.
I don’t think the makers of the place intended that. You can
reshape things. Some of us more than others. Weavers. We can create
things. Make things nice. In some ways, nicer than they are here.
And so suicide becomes out of the question because with all these
new abilities and possibilities and communities comes hope. It’s
kind of like a Catch-22 situation. It gets harder to go back, the
more you want to. But … I’m over that now.”

The ladies were all looking at me with
a mixture of fascination and perplexity.

“
Go on,” said
Britt.

“
Well, what’s happened to
me is … well … I’m in love. With Karla. Obviously. So, I don’t get
unhappy enough to cross over anymore. But … Karla … she’s up in the
attic … crossing over … which you can only do if you fool your mind
into feeling suicidal. What I’m asking is … should I be concerned …
about our relationship?”

“
Of course you should be
concerned,” said Britt. “You’re in a relationship with a
woman.”

“
It pays to be watchful,”
said Fiona. “Partners communicate to each other with more than
words. Every little action means something.”

“
Well, not every action,”
said Britt, giving Fiona the finger.

“
Even that!” said Britt.
“See? I know she’s being playful. It’s all about context and body
language.”

“
You have nothing to worry
about, James,” said Helen. “Karla adores you. Don’t listen to these
witches. I’ve seen the look in her eyes when she talks about
you.”

“
But … suicidal?” I said.
“Really? I can’t get my head anywhere near that state. Not when I’m
with her. How does she do it?”

“
She’s a woman,” said
Britt. “She’s female … like us.”

“
I realize
that.”

“
In case you haven’t
noticed, the emotional repertoire of a female is far greater than
the average male’s,” said Fiona. “We can tap into a vast reservoir
of unhappiness and resentment. It’s the female condition.
Generations of oppression, persecution and inequality will do that.
We have resources at our disposal. Don’t take it
personally.”

“
And can be sad on the
outside or the inside,” said Britt. “And flip between them in a
flash. These states co-exist, and the best of us waffle back and
forth between them.”

“
Sad but true,” said
Jessica, shrugging. “I can be happy and sad at the same time. These
feelings are not incompatible.”

“
Are all women are like
this?”

“
Nah, not all,” said
Britt.

“
Only those who are worth
knowing,” said Fiona. “There are plenty of silly, mindless bitches
in this world. But those of us with stout hearts and robust souls
experience the full range of female experience. And Karla, I would
guess, is a robust soul. That girl has a brain and a heart. She can
hurt and be happy.”

“
So, you’re saying I
shouldn’t worry?”

“
I never said don’t worry,”
said Fiona. “That was Helen. I would tell you whatever reservoir of
angst she’s drawing from to achieve this state, it likely has
nothing at all to do with you.”

“
But then again, it
might.”

“
Britt! Please! I’ve just
calmed the boy down and here you are troubling his head with
disturbing notions.”

“
Karla loves you, James,”
said Jess. “That’s clear. There’s no way she doesn’t. I think
that’s obvious to all of us who know you both.”

The ladies all nodded.

“
No worries,” said
Helen.

“
For now,” said Britt. “But
it can all go to shite in a blink.”

Fiona threw her a glare. “I don’t know
whether to refill your glass or take it away,” said Fiona,
commandeering the wine bottle.

“
Fill it and I promise to
shush.”

***

We stayed up another hour playing
Spades and commiserating about the unfortunate events of the last
two days.

“
Losing Sturgie was bad
enough,” said Jessica. “But then we had to go and lose the farm
too?”

“
You know what they say,”
said Britt.

“
What’s that?”

“
Bad things … come in
threes.”

“
That’s it! I’m taking your
glass away,” said Fiona, but Britt was too quick and snatched the
wine glass to her bosom, splashing some of it on her
blouse.

Helen was quick to daub it with a
napkin.

“
Good thing we’re not
drinking red. It’s not as wearable.”

I was feeling a little nervous and
anxious. “I’m … uh … gonna go up and check on Karla.”

I went up into the attic and found her
lying calm and snoring gently on the futon. I crouched over her and
studied her face, trying to determine if she had made the crossing
or if the sandman had gotten to her before the roots. It was hard
to tell.

I pulled the blanket up over her bare
shoulder, gave her a peck on the cheek and went back downstairs.
But the ladies had taken my leaving as the cue to break up the
party. Helen and Jess were already in the kitchen washing dishes
while Fiona and Britt put away the snacks.

“
Can I help?”

“
No thanks, hun,” said
Fiona. “We have things under control.”

“
How is she doing?” asked
Helen.

“
Snoozing.”

“
Go on, then!” said Fiona.
“Get back up there. Be with your woman. Hang out with the likes of
us too long and we’ll turn you into a dyke.”

“
Idle threats,” said Jess,
winking at me. “I’ve been coming over here for years and they have
yet to alter my preferences.”

I headed back to the attic stairs. I
was still feeling a bit wired. This was shaping up to be a long
night. But Sturgie’s wake wasn’t going to be till four, so even if
I needed to sleep in, there would be plenty of time to get
ourselves together.

The wood in the tread of the stairs
was scooped with wear from centuries of use. Each tread had a
different creak, and every one of them creaked. It made a strange
music. He imagined that someone lying awake in another room could
tell if someone was going up or down just from the pattern of the
creaks.

A groan arose from the shadows. Karla
staggered to the top of the stairs and stood trembling, wobbling
forward and back out of the darkness so that the hall light
alternately illuminated her face from below, highlighting the
creases in her troubled brow, her sunken cheekbones, the tears
streaming down her cheeks. She looked like a ghost.

She lost her balance and leaned
towards the stairs, about to fall. I thudded up the last few steps
in time to catch her. She went limp in my arms. I scooped her up
behind her knees and carried her back into the attic.

“
Are you feeling okay?” I
said. “What’s happening?”

“
I … I went back,” she
whispered.

***

I helped her back to the futon and
laid her down, snuggling up next to her.

“
It’s gone. “All gone,” she
whimpered.

“
What’s gone?”

“
Everything. There is
nothing left. Nothing.”

“
What do you mean
nothing?”

“
The surface. It has been
destroyed. There is utter destruction.”

“
You mean, like
Luthersburg?”

“
Everything! It’s all gone.
All of it. Penult. They’ve come and destroyed it all.
Everything.”

“
What about our friends.
They … okay?”

“
I don’t know. I didn’t see
anyone we knew. I was lost. Couldn’t find my way. Everything was
different. And then I was attacked. “I was stalked by these …
creatures. Some Dusters had to rescue me.”