Chapter Fifteen:
The day after Gina left, Alexandria left too. Unlike Gina, I knew Alexandria was leaving. I also knew where she had gone. She went to stay with Simone. I knew this without knowing it. If you know what I mean. Simone was a friend, a dependable friend. Alexandria confided in Simone. Often more so than me, I’d say. Simone was single too, which made it easier for Alexandria to go to her, and when the occasion arose, stay with her.
Even though I knew Alexandria’s whereabouts, I would not be calling or visiting her. If there was going to be any further contact between us, she was going to have to initiate it. Whatever turmoil that was going on inside her, I knew I played some small part in it. Calling her or going to see her would only worsen the situation between us. It was a damn hard truth to be resigned to, but I had to face it. I had to meet it square up and in the eye. I wouldn’t go to her. She would have to come to me. That’s the way it had to be.
Two more days passed. On the first day, I laid around a lot trying to nurse some of physical self back to its former self. I also did a lot of feeling sorry for myself. It was something I was very good at. In fact, I’d almost perfected it into an art form. I guess all my practice over the years paid off. I thought about Sara and Shelley a lot. At least a hundred times. I chastised myself for missing them so much and wishing every day that would come back to me.
I thought about other things too during those days. I thought about what I wanted to do with myself after all of this Winters business was over. I thought about whether I still wanted to be a private investigator or not. I thought about Alexandria and whether I would ever see her again. I thought about a lot of things. There were no easy answers to any of these questions. And no readily available ones.
On the second day, I received a call from someone I would’ve never expected to call. Someone who wanted to remind me that there was a proper order to things and that messing with that proper order can provoke some unpleasant results. And that I, Neal Caterski, was indeed messing with the proper order of things. This person, as you might guess, wanted me to promise to stop my messing right then and there on the phone.
“Hello.”
“Is this Mr. Caterski?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“The mayor.”
“The mayor?”
“Yes, Mr. Caterski, the mayor.”
Son of a fucking bitch, I said to myself. I didn’t need to psychic to know what this was all about.
“You’re calling about Sonny Winters, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s exactly why I called.”
“Who would’ve ever guessed. I thought maybe you wanted to tell me you were resigning.”
“Even if I was, why would I tell you?”
“You heard about what I’ve been going through and you wanted to cheer me up. Politicians resigning always cheers me up.”
“That’s not funny Mr. Caterski.”
“It is to me. Listen mayor, I know why you called and I know what you’re going to say. So, I’ll say it for you. Sonny Winters is a great man, an upstanding member of the community, a pillar of virtue and integrity. He is a saint, a man whose soul is woven of pure virgin cloth. Am I warm mayor?”
“Well, I-----.”
“Sonny Winters is a loving husband mourning the death of his dear beloved wife, a devoted father to his three lovely children.”
“Caterski ------.”
“You wanted to tell me to drop the investigation? No, it couldn’t be that. I’ve already dropped the investigation. Hell, my partner isn’t even with me anymore.’“Actually, I knew about that already.”
“Why am I not surprised?
“The reason I called was -----.”
“The diaries.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have them mayor. I did have them, but I don’t any more. You, Winters, and everyone else sleeping in that overcrowded bed of yours, can choose not to believe me, but it’s true.”
“Where are they?”
“With Gina Wilson, Donna Winters’ sister, wherever she is.”
“I went out for a drive. When I came home they were gone.”
“So, as far as your concerned, the Winters’ matter is over.”
“Yes, mayor. I dream of a time when I’ll never hear that name again.”
“That’s good to hear Mr. Caterski. You’ve finally come to understand how things work.”
“I knew that all along mayor.”
I hung up, went upstairs, and fell into bed. I was tired. It was early in the morning, but I was already tired. Worn down and worn out. I went to sleep. And then came another dream. Another bad dream.
I was sitting on the front porch. My head was down and resting on a pair of upturned knees. It was early morning, the early moments of sunrise, and a group of birds were chirping boisterously in the near distance. A soft, cool breeze massaged the back of my neck as wearied eyes remained closed. A chill struck suddenly, soon to be followed by goose bumps rolling out across the entire length of my arms. My eyes opened then and my head rose completely up.
Standing there, not more than six or seven inches away from me, was Donna Winters. Our eyes met. But the intensity of the bitterness and the sadness caused me to look away. Donna then circled the house and went to the backyard. I stood up and followed her. Once there, Donna, moving to a slow unheard rhythm, began to dance. To dance one final dance before leaving, this time once and for all eternity
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Her face was flawless, as it had before time and life, had exacted their heavy toll. I wanted to share this dance with her, but she wouldn’t have me. She would dance, but only alone. If I wandered too close to her, she’d hit me or push me away. The, she’d laugh, a laugh that was strangely frightening and seductive at the same time.
After picking myself off of the ground for a second time, I stumbled back to the porch steps and sat down. A light mist followed. It was cold and it began to rain. The mist thickened, making it harder to see. Harder to see Donna. I wanted to back inside, to escape the heavy mist, rain and cold.
“Donna,” I said, “come in the house with me.”
Donna stopped dancing, but made no move toward the house. Instead, she motioned for me to go to her with the forefinger of her left hand. I went to her without hesitation. I was full of anticipation for the desperate sweetness of another embrace. A short, electric kiss and a hug so warm it could a city block on the bitterest day of winter. But neither the kiss nor the hug came. In their place, she whispered a sentence or two of low intelligible words. When I asked her to repeat them, she sternly shook her head no and slowly turned to leave.
I was determined not to let her go. The mist and the cold no long bothered me. It wasn’t they who had changed. It was me. I couldn’t feel them on my clothes anymore. I couldn’t feel them on my skin. I couldn’t feel them in my bones. There was Donna and there was me. Nothing else.
She ran out of the backyard at a speed well beyond what I thought she was capable of. I tried like seven hells to catch her, but my feet couldn’t coordinate the proper traction on the moist, wet ground. By the time I reached the front of the house, Donna had already put a considerable amount of distance between us. And to make matters worse than they already were for me, a dense, multi-layered fog rolled in from seemingly nowhere.
I called out to her at least a dozen times or more, but her only response was to put more distance between us. Forgetting a drastic rise in the sidewalk near the end of the block, I hit the upgrade, stumbled, and fell. I shouted for Donna to stop. I shouted so loud and for so long that my voice went hoarse, then silent. Without getting up, I looked straight out in front of me. But there was nothing to see. Nothing except the fog.
The chase had ended and I had lost.. Donna was gone and there would be no getting her back. I was tempted, so tempted to just lie there on the ground and die a slow, cold, miserable death. My death, after all, would be no great event. It wouldn’t even qualify as a mildly, minor event. Who needed me? Who would miss me? Whose life was I an integral part of? No, my death would be of no great loss but me. Was that enough for me to stand up and carry on with life? Was it?
Then, while still lying on the ground, the strangest thing of all occurred. I heard a sound coming toward me.. A low rhythmic sound, a beating of a bird’s wings against the wind. The sound grew stronger as it neared me and lower itself in the sky. I knew, without seeing, the bearer of those wings. A crow. A low flying, solitary crow. When my eyes actually saw the bird cutting gracefully through the breaking fog, I experienced another flash of intuitive knowledge.
Then this crow, this dark as night solitary crow passed over me and called out in a loud, stringent voice what I thought to be my name. I rolled over quickly as this bird continued on its path, low and to the west. The black dot of this flawed, glorious bird kept getting smaller and smaller and smaller, until it faded completely from my view. But this was just a dream. A dream. Just a dream. That’s what I kept telling myself. It was just a dream. That’s what I keep telling myself even now. A dream. It was just a dream.
I wish I had the power to be more persuasive.