

Death Or Eurydice

By

## Edward Drobinski

Copyright © 2012 Edward M. Drobinski

All rights reserved

# Contents

### Chapter 1- Rising From the Deep

Frigid northern night winds coldly kissed the summer gardens goodbye. Inch by inch, joy by joy, they howled an eternal song, while happily and viciously introducing time. He went inside the classically columned, one story stone building, hoping to find some warmth and illumination, willing to settle for either.

He briskly walked down the dark, unpopulated, stark hallway glimpsing the doors closed to him and had no interest in them. At the end he encountered one of the oak variety stained a dark brown, with a black, rectangular sign, containing golden brass letters which said "S-U-P-R-E-SPACE-E-SPACE-C-O-U-R-T". (SUPRE E COURT) The tarnished "M" lay on the plushy light brown carpet, which covered a floor of indeterminate substance. The "M" was now companion to other debauched debris, rubbish, trash and junk. The inch deep undisturbed dust suggested long term abandonment. He picked up and pocketed a 1793 large cent, which was standing on its edge, half buried in the grime; ostensibly the coin's source of support. It displayed a woman's head with long flowing hair on the obverse and a wreath on the reverse. He thought it appropriate. He then tried the loose knob on the door and was surprised how easily it swung open. The room was lit with buzzing overhead tubular lights. The walls, ceilings and floors were painted an irregular, but strangely equalized cream shade of white.

There were only two distractions from the two paintings hung on the wall straight ahead. One was a lavender blue marble fountain, which sprayed water two feet in the air, in which the light from the one and only small window near the ceiling gave the moisture laden bouquet a rainbow effect on occasion. The other was a stable black masonry composite bench, on which he sat and beheld the shadows of life.

The one on the left got his curiosity first, as he noticed that it wasn't really a true painting at all, when he detected movement. The sky was a light purple covered in various shades of blue, darker at the top, lighter near the horizon. The bright yellow sun partially eclipsed its red companion and was setting on the right of the canvas. It further lightened the shades of blue in the proximity, while leaving the other blues unenhanced. Two red tanagers were flying furiously, suggesting that they desperately had to find something.

The earth was comprised of two masses of land with jagged and rounded edges. The left mass was deep green with black lines indicating some kind of topography, while its escort was a deep brown, speckled with orange dots and didn't seem to indicate an irregular surface. The masses continually swayed, sometimes toward each other, sometimes away. When they moved together they appeared to be, unsuccessfully trying to lock their disparate edges together. When in each other's proximity, the colors moderated into six lighter shades of green on the left and six lighter shades of brown on the right. When the masses moved apart the space between alternated between black and white, as if controlled by a light switch. Propelled by an invisible wind, the dark billowing clouds often blocked the sun's desire to highlight the light shades of green and brown. When the sky was clear the rays gave the earthly masses a golden tint, deepest when both suns were at the center. An intermittent stream, like a hillside waterfall which appears during times of heavy storm, poured from one small part of the sky into the area between the jagged and rounded edges, disappearing into the wound, but not before providing enough nourishment to produce a few small purple flowers at the edges.

The canvas on the right displayed an alternate form of rhythm. It was substantially similar to its mate on the left, with only a few discriminating exterior details differing. The yellow and red suns sat almost motionless near the center of the sky. The two land masses were successful in interlocking, the lighter shades of green and brown given a deep golden tint by the two orbs at their zenith. No longer having a bottomless pit to fall through, the now continuous waterfall which poured from the sky formed a north-south river. The overabundant water found its way east and west too, filling in straight soft spots of the earth. The voluminous beads of sweat formed a cross, the proximity of which was covered with flowers of every color and variety. Thirty red tanagers were on the ground, sitting among the flowers or drinking the water. Two were effortlessly exploring the sky.

He lost track of time as he contentedly and incandescently stared at the right picture.

Furiously, the door opened, producing a coarse, impudent and discordant thud when it slammed shut, breaking his pleasant reverie. He turned around to see a short, thin, severely balding and sallow complexioned man, who appeared to be about forty years of age, enter the room, nervously smoking a cigarette. The man paid no attention to him and moved quickly to the painting at the right. He removed a can from his right jacket pocket, dipped his left hand into it and proceeded to paint the letters "f-a-n-t-a-s-y" in dripping black across the canvas. He stepped back a foot, to admire his work, then turned and left the room, smirking, not bothering to take note of anything else, satisfied that his work was done.

Orpheus Christopher woke with a start, quickly sitting up in bed. He thought he got a fleeting view of a black figure at the foot of it, just as the uninvited intruder disappeared. The trespasser seemed to have a wingspan and made him think of a six foot raven. Coming from Boston, he wasn't used to being around a lot of beasts, especially huge, somewhat ominous ones. But, it was gone and he could begin his usual day. The sun was not yet above the green hills, but its radiance was evident through his open windows. The glow in the cloudless sky made him feel as comfortable as one could be subsequent to a potential attack.

He got out of the trundle bed and went downstairs to the kitchen. Mom already had a cooking fire going, perilously raising the temperature and was hunched over, leaning into it, despite it being an already toasty July 4, 1825. The fireplace was brick and, next to it stood a few scary looking, iron kitchen utensils and various sized metal pots. This equipment came with the house and Orpheus and his family were just beginning to get used to the "rural" ways of Sudbury, Massachusetts.

"Good morning, Or," she said, without looking up.

"Good morning, Ma."

He sat at the table which was Mom's pride and joy, being of the delicate and stylish Heppelwhite variety. It had six thin legs with golden metal encasements near the feet and two other unused gate-leg attachments for expansion in case of plentiful company. Made of mahogany, with reddish brown stain and gold leaf inlays, it was quite an impressive sight. As visitors usually congregated in the kitchen, Mom wanted this to be the best room and it was. He gazed at his industrious mother, her five foot two slender frame ensconced in a sheer white, ruffled, floor length dress.

He said; "Do you know if Dad is going to need me help him make nails today?"

She straightened up and pushed the long blond hair back off her sweating, pale face. She looked at him and said as if the answer was obvious; "I'd suspect so. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I guess I'm just trying to calculate out how much time I have for making pots today. I've got some new ideas I'm anxious to try out." They heard a loud clop, clip, clop on the hardly packed dirt road outside. Orpheus went to a wood shuttered window and opened it. Joe McCready was sitting on his wagon, holding the reins to Pokey, his 35 year old, brown, agreeable stallion, which helped him deliver milk. Seeing his head out the window, Joe yelled out; "Orpheus, make sure you're at the parade today."

"Sure, Joe. I wouldn't miss it." He thought, "Oh, no, another impediment to pot making. This is the forty-ninth anniversary of the revolution. The fiftieth should be a bigger deal. I'd rather wait for that one."

On the other side of town Eurydice Paul finished the breakfast prepared for her by the live-in maid, Betsy. Sitting in the kitchen, usually populated only by servants, she said; "I'd better get moving before Dad finds me here." Past experience had taught her that while her father would not openly chastise her for mingling with the hired help, he would do subtle things to discourage repeat performances, such as conjuring up chores that the two would have to immediately attend to.

She was always interested in hearing Betsy's stories about her time in slavery in Alabama and her escape by pretense of having the flu. Since no one would dare catching it, she was able to slip out of the farm compound without much difficulty, eventually getting to Massachusetts with the help of many sympathetic wagoneers. Eurydice often wondered about the net results, but never said so. When Betsy described the parties down South, Eurydice thought she may well have been describing some things that were much more interesting than "free" Massachusetts. She also knew that Betsy just might be confining herself to the best side of the story, not wanting to be someone to pity. Eurydice was also conscious of the fact that she had never experienced slavery and could never truly understand what that was like and didn't want to find out. Still, it troubled her that the "free" life she had, living her entire nineteen year life in "non-slave states" seemed pretty limited. More than one former associate called her a spoiled brat, of course, behind her back.

Her father, Reverend James Paul, was not one to tolerate much frivolity. A six foot tall, robust man with short black hair which showed some signs of departure on top, he saw the world as a place for suffering and praying, despite mouthing platitudes to loving Christ and his raising of the dead. At age fourteen Eurydice decided that her father was just another hypocrite, as she never observed him doing anything she would call the least bit painful. His verbally stated area of highest concern seemed dominated by greed rather than creed. Didn't he know that his chosen theosophy said "God will provide," "Consider the lilies of the field," and all that other "Golden Calf" kind of shit? What was this fascination with the expected weekly donation, mortgages and household help remuneration? Despite vows of poverty taken by church priests, the family always lived in very fine, elegantly furnished dwellings, which legally were church property, but that was a mere subterfuge to her. She didn't mind the pleasant surroundings in the least and didn't want to live a life of sacrifice, but considered calling this life one of poverty was too ridiculous to warrant any serious comment, as "what it is" is "what it is" and that's all there was to it. Her father's closest encounters with suffering occurred during his regular routine of telling parishioners what they should be doing "In the name of God, almighty," and enduring the groans. She had recurrent dreams of an irrigated field with a dry, elevated, three foot wide wooden road through it. Her father briskly walked the high path in immaculate pale golden silk robes, denying access to anyone else. The lay people slogged through the mud and fell well behind him. He chastised them for being lazy, telling them that they must try harder, as they wallowed in the foot deep dark brown mud, doing their best to keep up.

Eurydice raised her five foot, eight inch, 150 pound, ample body from the simply planked, plain kitchen table and slowly said; "Hey, Betsy."

Betsy turned her forty year old kerchiefed head, away from the fire in the floor to ceiling cooking oven. Her slightly overweight five foot five frame turned and her semi-toothless mouth replied; "Startin' out early, aren't you?"

"Betsy, I want you to think up another story to tell me tomorrow."

"What kind of story do you want to hear?"

Eurydice dragged out; "Love," as she exited the kitchen door and greeted a pretty, new day. A half hour after sunrise it was cool enough to take a comfortable fast walk over the green treed hills to the side of town where most of the parishioners lived. Passing by her father's unoccupied new church and school, she encountered an area covered with eight and nine room white clapboard houses, much like her own, each situated on about an acre. The strong light of the day revealed no imperfections. She noted the few remaining farms, growing corn, on the wetlands bordering the Hoosatonic River. The area was very well maintained, but she wondered by who? On her half mile walk down slate pathways, she saw no one. She was disappointed as she was in a particularly good frame of mind and thought it was a perfect day to greet her new neighbors. Her ebony black skin stood out from the sheer white summer dress she was wearing and glistened in the continually rising sun dead ahead. She crossed the covered wooden bridge over the river and the path became dirt.

With his father still sleeping, Orpheus got into the usual routine. The radiant sun, now unencumbered by the sloping topography, he carried his five foot, nine inch, 150 pound frame to the "still on its legs" wooden barn in the backyard, loaded ten of his pots onto a small wagon and pulled them to the roadside of his parent's five room, side-halled half Cape Cod. He immediately realized that he had forgotten something and when he retraced his steps, he noticed Molly prancing over to the edge of her corral and her high-pitched, snorting whinny made it known, in no uncertain terms, that she was hungry. He went back to the barn to retrieve a bale of hay and threw it over the corral fence. Molly was now occupied and presumably content. He drained the water from her trough, primed the stone well and carried her buckets of fresh water. Molly surprised the busy water boy and gave him a push on the shoulder with her big dark brown head, causing his long light brown hair to fall on his face. He said; "Hey, girl," as he spilled some of the water on his light blue dungarees. When he regained his balance he pushed the hair off his face with his left hand and rubbed her head with his right. He professed his apologies for being late, gave her a kiss on the snout, then returned to the barn and retrieved the wooden sign he had painted white, emblazoned with black lettering that said " **POTS--10¢** ". When he carried it to the front of the house he saw her smiling face, illuminated by the sun behind him and in front of her. He had his back to it and she had difficulty making out his features until they were about ten feet apart. He shyly said; "Hi," as he placed the sign in front of the cart.

"Hi," she said; "You know you are the first person I've seen outside this morning."

"That's strange. My name is Orpheus. What's yours?"

"Eurydice."

They both were silent for a few seconds, staring into each other's eyes, no doubt wondering why that sounded portentous.

He finally said; "Where did you come from?"

She almost laughed and said; "What a way to phrase a question. I live on the other side of town now. I just crossed the bridge. The water looked very calm today."

"I've never really noticed it much. We've only been here a few months. We've been busy getting settled and I've been using my spare time to make these pots. Want one?"

Eurydice was again surprised at his directness, but thought it cute. She wrinkled her brow, to effect a discerning look and said; "Maybe. Let me get a better look at them." She picked one up, revolved it around in her hands, put it down and picked up another. "You put different designs on each one, don't you?"

"Yes. I don't think I could make a duplicate if I wanted to. I quickly scratch carve flowers on them before they turn solid and then paint them. I have to do it quickly and as a consequence I don't get that overly studied effect."

He smiled sheepishly, realizing that some people equate overly studied with perfection. She didn't reveal her predilections and took a quick look at the ten items for sale. She noticed that all pots were exactly the same shape and orange brown color, but each flower did, indeed, exhibit a different form and hue. She was attracted to a deep purple one, picked it up, turned the scratch carving toward him and said; "What's this?"

He laughed and replied; "It's supposed to be a leafy iris."

"Well, it's certainly not studied. I like it." She reached down to a pocket in her dress. As his eyes followed her hand and he saw her from a new interesting angle, a gentle breeze pushed her dress tightly against her luscious black body. He thought of new artistic ideas to be tried with his palette in attendance. She pulled out a small black leather bag, retrieved a dime from it and offered it to him."

Orpheus said; "Thank you," but, put his hands behind his back and shook his head, indicating that he didn't want the dime. He smiled at her and said; "For you, it's free."

She smiled back, looked at the rest of the batch and coyly said; "Then, maybe I'll take another."

He dropped to one knee, extended his arms and jokingly said; "Whatever my lady wishes," intending to sound like a silly Knight. He took her left hand and kissed it.

Eurydice watched him surveying her legs and said; "Maybe next time." His gaze elevated to her face and he was rewarded with a wry smile. She made a step toward continuing her journey, so in an attempt to detain her he said; "You're new here?"

"No, I've been here a couple of months, but this is my first excursion into the 'wild.'" She laughed, then added; "It takes a while to get settled. You obviously know that."

"Will I see you again?"

She smiled, kept moving and said; "Sure, I guess so."

"Exactly where do you live?"

She looked at him curiously and said; "I live about half a mile from the bridge, where they built the new church and school. Boy, you ask a lot of questions. Didn't you ever see a girl before?"

Still in his knightly position he raised his eyebrows, shook his head, smiled and said; "Not like you."

She didn't know how to take that, so she sped up her gait and looked quizzically back at him.

He stood up and again said; "So, when will I see you again?"

"Soon. Very soon. Promise." She continued straight on the path, thinking about Orpheus. She was surprised and curious. She had many possible ideas about him, predominately good ones. But, doesn't he know that he's white?

He watched her walk down the road, Eurydice now lackadaisically approaching the sun on a cloudless day. A gentle southern breeze brought in a very pleasant warm sensation. Her long black hair swayed, accompanied by her loose white dress.

His father's voice interrupted his partial dream state. He was standing on the northeast side of the house, on a dirt path which led to the barn and called out; "Orpheus. Forget about those pots for a while and give me some help."

Orpheus happily called back; "I sold one already today," conveniently not mentioning the price.

"Great, but come on over here and make some nails, too."

Orpheus walked over to him and soon had a loving hand on his neck, squeezing a bit. Dad smiled right at him and said; "Who ever heard of making a living from selling pots!"

"I don't know, but there are a lot of them around and I figure that somebody must." He walked to the house door and added; "I'll be right with you. I just want to put something in my room." He pulled a clean white handkerchief from his "country" Queen Anne chest of drawers and rubbed his mouth with it, in an effort to preserve her sweet scent. He didn't want to risk it dropping out of his pocket somewhere while working, so he put it in the small, ersatz Heppelwhite nightstand near his bed. He wanted to save this one, as he had a feeling it was something special. When he got to the barn his father already had the fire going and he was striking the piece of iron with a mallet.

At the split in the road Eurydice made a left, toward the east. Soon she was in another world; that of her father's intended parishioners. Some of the houses were huddled together, perhaps patterned after "circling the wagons" when under Indian attack and others stood boldly alone and defiant. What many had in common was that they were made of unpainted, graying planked wood and gave off the incorrect appearance of a log cabin when viewed from a distance. Eurydice's travels had not yet taken her to a place such as this and she was anxious to find out what it was all about.

Sheds and farm equipment were spread all over the place. Barnyards contained horses, pigs, goats and chickens. Kids were a common sight, doing chores or running after each other yelling out things like; "I'm gonna get you, big head!" A woman of about 40 and 200 pounds, wearing a faded yellow housedress decorated with red roses, was hanging clothes on a line drawn between two trees in front of her small cabin. She had her back to the road and Eurydice called out; "Hi, good morning."

The lady finished putting the clips on a pair of brown pants, turned toward Eurydice and said; "Hi. You're new around here, ain't you? I bet you're the new preacher's wife."

"Half right, half wrong. I'm very new around here, but I'm Eurydice, the preacher's daughter."

"I should tell you right away that I got no use for religion."

"Then we're friends, because I don't like organized religion either."

The lady took another pair of pants out of the water, hung them and wondered what distinction her new acquaintance was making. "My name is Lettie. My religion is what you see around you; the wind, the sky, the fields and everything else."

Hoping not to sound argumentative so soon, Eurydice's truthful streak overwhelmed her and she said; "See, you do believe in religion. It's just not of the organized variety in church."

A mature hundred pound German shepherd came running toward her as Eurydice stepped onto the property. Lettie yelled; "Mikey. Back off." He practically stopped in his tracks and sat on his haunches, looking at Lettie sideways. She lowered her voice a bit and added "Good boy." Directing her speech back to Eurydice, she said; "Come on over here. He won't bother you now."

When she passed near Mikey, Eurydice said; "Can I make friends with him?" She started to reach her right hand for the furry, black and brown head when Lettie said; "No, no, not yet."

Eurydice walked around the stationary shepherd, each craning their neck to keep an eye on the other. "Is he part of your religion, too?"

"I told you everything is; Mikey, my husband Malcolm, my kids Lincoln, Alexander, Naomi, Dolly and Washington." She paused a bit, then added; "Even you, Eurydice."

"So is anything not religion?"

"Sure, words of hypocrites for one thing. The devil for another. Church. Moonshine...."

"I think we've got the same foundation. It took me a trip to Europe to finalize my conclusions."

"What were you doing in Europe?"

"I spent the last year in a London college."

"What did you learn there?"

"What privilege is."

Lettie looked at her, wondering if Eurydice really knew that one, but it sounded to her as if her heart was in the right place.

Dolly, 10 and Washington, 8, came out of nowhere and ran past the two adults, Washington behind, yelling; "You better give it to me," apparently more than a little interested in something she held in her left hand.

Lettie raised her voice; "You two better cut it right now. I don't need any more broken stuff."

Washington said, "She's got my book, again."

Lettie said; "Dolly. Leave his book alone." She walked over to her now still daughter, took the book out of her hand and gave her a slap on the butt. She gave the book back to Washington saying; "You better find a place for it that she doesn't know about."

Washington nodded yes, a bit disgusted with himself, since he had already been told that at least three times. He was also embarrassed that his big sister was again able to read what he had written in the diary, his last birthday present.

Dolly said; "I ought to tell everybody what you wrote in there."

Washington chased her into the house saying; "You do and I'll...." The planked door slammed behind them.

Lettie said to Eurydice; "I ain't having any more. You know what I'm sayin'. You want children?"

"Sure. I think so. Doesn't everyone?"

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"When I was your age, I already had two, Lincoln and Alexander"

Eurydice queried; "Are they still living here?"

"No, they've been gone for years now. I'm not sure that they're living anywhere, especially that Lincoln. He wasn't the type to take any kind of shit and he'd fight with anyone who got in his face."

"What do they do for a living?"

"Whatever they can, you know. I just hope it's not something they can put you in jail for......Maybe I'll never know for sure."

Eurydice didn't know what to say, as she knew nothing of that kind of life. Her early years were spent at Christian schools wherever her father happened to be assigned and up until very recently she thought she would be spending another three years in a London university, trying to establish some sort of career for herself, most likely teaching or something creative in literature. Her tender years and sequestered life precluded her from the knowledge that the odds of the latter happening for a black woman were overwhelmingly short, as her parents never wanted to instill her with ideas that contained any concept of limitation.

Besides becoming disenchanted with the effete snobbery and cautiously preferential treatment she thought she detected at the school scene, she had gotten unnerved the last few months in London. She sensed that she was being watched or followed by something she never could quite fully perceive. She got fleeting glimpses of a stern looking white woman, dressed in black, who popped up in crowds and reflected in windows. She got brief visions in her room when she first roused many mornings. When she would look harder, the image would always vanish. Eurydice wasn't at all superstitious or religious in the traditional sense, by her own admission, but the frequency of the short sightings resulted in the very real fear that she was soon going to be killed. Eurydice was happy that she had not yet seen the figure in America. She hoped that what had flashed before her was part of the "Old World," and that she was now safely in the new one. She finally said; "I'm not against the school, mind you. A little education never hurt anyone."

"Lettie answered; "Somehow I knew that was what you felt. Let's go inside and see what my two little angels are doing now. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No, not really. My father said that he was going to arrange a marriage for me someday." She grimaced.

Lettie looked at the pot Eurydice placed on the kitchen table and said; "I see you've already come to meet Orpheus."

Eurydice was not completely comfortable with what she thought could have been an inference she didn't want to deal with. She said; "Yes, he was the first person I saw outside today. Even though the sun was behind him, he looked like a white boy to me."

Lettie said; "It doesn't matter. Everyone knows that Orpheus loves Eurydice. Everyone." She grinned at Eurydice, who felt her face flush and hoped it wasn't noticeable.

Orpheus said to his father; "So what do you want me to do?"

His father stopped his hammering and turned his five foot nine, 180 pound body toward his son and said; "Take a mallet and hammer down the nails on that table." He wiped the sweat from his forehead, brushed back his short dark brown hair and pointed where he had placed many nails as soon as they cooled off, which still required some smoothing out. Orpheus quietly did as he was told. Since the job took little concentration, he thought about his new acquaintance and his pot endeavors. Eurydice's ebony black skin contradicted her long black straight hair. He had seen many black girls in Boston and it seemed a general rule that the darker the skin, the curlier the hair. It probably was difficult to maintain, so they generally wore it short. Maybe Eurydice isn't entirely black. He got annoyed with himself for this line of thought. "Who cares?" He then pictured the Sudbury he knew and many of its people. "Everyone," he thought. "Everyone, except me, anyway." He pictured her healthy appearance; he correctly thought that she was probably around five foot eight and weighed about 150 delectable pounds. He recalled watching her walk away taking special note of her long, meaty black legs. Her loose white dress came down below the knee, but with the aid of a gentle, gusty southerly wind, he could regularly see a few inches higher. He had been more or less working for an hour when he said; "Dad, I'm going to take a little break and check on my pots."

"You get all those done?"

"No, not yet. I promise I will." Orpheus' voice raised a tone and he added; "I'll be back in ten minutes."

His father watched him wipe off his hands with a rag and walk out the door into the full light. Providence was with him today as when he got to the front of the house he saw Eurydice walking back down the road with her head serendipitously to the ground. She didn't look sad, but she was certainly pensive. He saw that her hands were empty and he yelled out; "Hey, where's your pot?"

She looked up, not entirely surprised to see him again, but somewhat embarrassed and said; "Oh, I must have left it at Lettie's."

"Who's Lettie?"

"Oh, I guess you don't know her. She lives just a little up the road from here. I think I made a friend. We were talking awhile."

"You know you made another friend, too," he said, cocking his head to the side and smiling. "Take another pot."

She remembered what Lettie said and she started to think that something strange might be going on here. It was an improvement over the apparitions of London. At least this strangeness was pleasant; so far. She took a long look at his face, liked its kind playfulness and focused on his lips. They were the thickest ones she had ever seen on a white guy. Maybe he's part black. She chastised herself for the thought. Who cares? Everybody. She was quiet so long and displayed such a sweet interested countenance, that he slowly approached. When he reached her contented face, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, taking her fingertips in his.

She broke away, looked up and down the road and with wide eyes said; "You're not supposed to do that here."

"Then where am I supposed to do it?"

She almost laughed, but was trying to make some serious point that escaped her at the moment, so she remained somewhat authoritarian and replied; "Don't do that again."

"In public you mean?"

She didn't want to discourage him, so chose not to answer, this time letting the laugh go, as she started walking toward the bridge.

Orpheus said; "Hey, how about the pot?"

Eurydice glanced back and playfully said; "I don't know if I want to be that beholden to you. At least not yet."

Orpheus raised his voice a bit and said; "Are you going to be at the Fourth of July festivities tonight?"

She smiled, turning her head back toward him and said; "Yes, unfortunately. My father always drags me to those kinds of things."

For the first time in a long while Orpheus was looking forward to a parade. He was glad she was a kindred spirit, forgot about his pot making and called out; "I'll see you there."

As she continued her track home Eurydice didn't notice the topography or the presence of people, again thinking about what a strange day it had been so far and that it wasn't yet even half over. She thought about her two new friends, but corrected herself. Her instincts told her that these two were not what one traditionally calls a friend. What was the right word? For Lettie, she really couldn't surmise. But for Orpheus the answer was a bit more obvious, with only two possibilities, lover or brother. Upon further reflection she couldn't picture him a brother.

Orpheus returned to the barn and silently started hammering. His mind was completely on her. He liked everything he saw and heard. He thought; "I think she likes me, too."

When Dad was near packing it in, he shut down the fire and said; "Or, you did a lot of nails today. Hope you're not too tired to pay our respects at the parade."

Rather than saying that he couldn't wait to get there, Orpheus merely deadpanned; "I'll get through it, just because I love you, dad."

### Chapter 2- Sweet Blindness

At twilight it was still hot with only an intermittent soft breeze. Molly was hitched up to the open buggy. His parents took the elevated planked seat and Orpheus sat on the wooden flatbed, his back up against the seat, with a view of what was being left behind. As they rode the path east and then south to town he watched his house fade into the distance. He watched the pink sunset over Eurydice's area, before Molly made a right turn at the intersection, pulling everyone into the darkness. They were a bit late as the parade was apparently over, but the town's streets were still milling with people eager to continue the festivities. They parked in front of a stable already full of fashionable carriages, the horses whinnying and turning their heads toward Molly, some snorting. The three walked to the end of the lamp lit block passing small houses now used for the sewing of clothing, the dispensing of fertilizer and wagon repair.

The three turned onto the main street, site of the parade. At their entrance spot participants were still excitedly talking to each other and passing the jugs. Each of the little family got a few swigs as they passed through people dressed as clowns, the founding fathers, frontiersmen, military men and one as Uncle Sam, trying his best to remain elevated on six foot stilts. They resisted numerous opportunities to purchase painted whirligigs. The makers were pulling their strings in an attempt to attract buyers by their forced "dance."

The next group they saw was a grove of elderly women, sweating in bulbous skirts which reached their shoes, topped with intricately designed blouses buttoned to the neck and elaborate hats held in place with thin leather straps under the chin. The banner, now lying on the dirt road, said "Daughters of the American Revolution." No jugs were being passed around, though a few of the women looked and acted as if they had access to a private source, perhaps hidden somewhere under their clothes.

High hatted gentlemen stood, as best they could, in small groups seemingly trying to impress their companions with their business or money acumen. Flasks were in open evidence, but not passed around, by the entrepreneurs, doctors, lawyers and Indian chiefs. At the far left of this group, Orpheus saw Eurydice, her mother and father standing by themselves. They were the first black attendants he noticed, Eurydice looking uneasy and annoyed in her sheer white dress. Her parents were silently, glumly staring at the high hats.

Orpheus said; "I know her. Let's go over and say hello."

His mother said; "That might not be a good idea."

He looked at his father, who was now stationary thirty feet from his curvy friend. He said; "I think your mother has a good point. Don't you see anyone else around you know? Maybe you sold someone a pot or two."

Orpheus said; "I'm not sure. Probably. It's hard to tell in the dim light. But, I'm sure I know her because she bought a pot today, that she proceeded to lose somewhere. Come on."

Orpheus took a few steps in Eurydice and her family's direction, but didn't succeed in starting another parade. Eurydice's father and mother ascertained the general drift of the conversation going on 30 feet north of them and didn't know what to do. They were eager to make some social contact, but also noticed that the Christophers were not attired as their neighbors, exhibiting a strong dose of "down homey" so they too stood still. Eurydice must have felt something in the air, as she broke her disinterested gaze away from the boots displayed in the still open "Leather Shoppe" and saw Orpheus, who was already midway between his parents and her.

She quickly walked over to him, hooking her left arm under his right and said; "Get me the hell out of here." She hurriedly led him down a side street heading due south. Both sets of parents remained still, glancing at their shoes, wanting to call out to their children, which was overridden by their mutual desires not to draw any more attention to what had happened. None of them considered that in a small town there are no secrets, only exaggerations of known "facts."

After getting thirty feet down the side street, Eurydice stopped and looked back. Nobody was following, so she slowed down and said; "Boy, am I glad to see you."

He released his right arm from her left and put it around her waist. He pulled her toward him and kissed her lips, keeping his thick lips on hers until she pushed him away, saying with a smile; "You don't have any manners at all, do you?"

He didn't know what to respond, so he took her hand and held it as they continued their now slow walk. After 30 seconds he said; "I guess I'm not a proper person. To me good manners are also good sense and kissing you makes perfect sense to me."

She looked at his interested moist brown eyes and put her arm around his waist and gave him a long lip kiss, using her tongue. Since he didn't break away their hands had ample time to explore parts of each other's bodies. She eventually stopped the kiss and put her arms around his shoulders, putting her face side to side with his. She said; "You're not a proper white boy at all. **Thank the lord!** My folks always encouraged me to speak, dress and act as the proper white people did and I was never all that impressed with the phony high class routine."

"Even if I knew how to act properly white and high class, believe me; that would be the furthest away from the way I'll perform with you." Realizing that what he had just said could be interpreted as being disrespectful, he added; "No offense intended." When she gave him a curious look, he squinted and mumbled; "You know what I mean?"

Eurydice closed one eye, made a small nod, smiled and said; "You sure you're all white? Those lips look like Jelly Face Watson from the south side. You know him?" She touched them with the fingertips of her left hand and he licked her until she pulled her hand away, enjoying the exotic taste and aroma. Eurydice looked at him in an evaluative manner and made the slightest of encouraging smiles. Disappointed with the termination of tactile stimulation, he commenced speaking and said; "Only in spirit. But, look at the rest of this face. It's as white as a cream pie."

They both laughed, swinging their clutched hands, as they continued their ambling walk into the un-illuminated black of night. They reached the path and continued straight on it, ignoring the possible left that led to each one's home. She said; "Do you come this way regularly?"

"I don't know if 'regularly' is the right word. If I stay on the path, I can go three different ways from my house. I probably come this way once every three walks."

"I was there for the first time today. I walked all over and I saw that there are really four Sudburys."

"At least. On the borders things are not very black and white."

She laughed and when he quickly realized what he had unwittingly said, so did he.

People must have been settled in their houses, or they were standing perfectly still in the dark night. No wind disturbed the perfect silence. When they got near Lettie's house she saw them and approached saying; "I told you, Eurydice. Come on in. I've been waiting."

Eurydice didn't want to answer directly, in front of Orpheus so she just said; "Hi, Lettie."

Orpheus didn't understand the entreaty, so dismissed it and followed Eurydice through the uncut grass to Lettie's door.

Eurydice said; "This is Orpheus. Say Hello to Lettie."

Orpheus looked at the 200 pound chocolate woman and noticed that she probably wasn't wearing anything under her tight house dress. "Hi. I don't think we've ever met before. I think I'd of remembered. But I live near here." He pointed northwest.

Lettie grinned and said; "I know. I've seen you walking by here before. I just wondered when you'd reach my door." She pushed it in and led the couple into the kitchen, waving toward the chairs at the table. There were six different varieties. Having been here before, Eurydice already had a favorite and sat on a yellow cushioned country version of a Queen Anne armchair, gracefully curved, comfortable, classic, simple and not ostentatious. Orpheus took the one closest to her, made of simple rabbited pine and slat backed, of no particular style other than home-made. It's most noticeable features were the dark blue paint just starting to peel revealing a dark brown stain and the fact that the seat was a few inches lower than Eurydice's, forcing him to look up at her. Lettie retrieved a pitcher of ice tea from the ice box, poured three glasses and sat at the trestle table on an ornately chip carved, dark stained, three legged, triangular chair and seemed to spill out of its seemingly miniscule confinement.

Orpheus looked at her well revealed black barefoot legs and Lettie said; "They tell me that it came from France." He looked at Eurydice, who just looked back and said nothing. He again turned to Lettie, first eyeing her grinning round face and working his way down again to her legs. Lettie added; "I'm talking about the chair. I'm as American as they come."

The two women laughed out loud and Orpheus nervously smiled, saying; "That's a great chair. I especially like the triangular shape."

The couple disposed of their beverages quickly, being dry from their long hot night's walk. When she saw that they were done, Lettie left her glass on the table and went through a closed door to her fifteen year old daughter's bedroom and said; "Naomi, quit what you're doing and get out here. We have very special company tonight."

In a few seconds, a light brown skinned girl, also in a tight old housedress, emerged. She looked at the couple, smiled and said; "Hi." Orpheus and Eurydice responded in kind, standing up.

Lettie directed them through the door and said; "You two will have to stay in here a while. I've got something private to talk to my daughter about." She closed the door behind her, leaving them in total darkness.

They moved around gingerly, discovering the unmade bed. They sat on it and reached for each other's hand. He said; "There's got to be a lamp in here somewhere."

"I don't see it. Do you?"

Their eyes were beginning to get acclimated to the lack of light and he saw a closed window. He got up and opened the bottom shutter, letting its leather straps support it. He could feel the cool night air in his face and saw stars all over the sky on this cloudless night. He said; "Take a look at this, Eurydice."

She walked over to the open window and stood next to him. They soon had their arms around each other's waist. In thirty seconds he let go, placing his persistent palate protuberance on the purple pastoral paragon peak. They couldn't see it, but they heard a sound probably coming from a not too distant house. Someone was chicken pickin' a banjo and a male voice was singing;

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do.

I'm half crazy, oh for the love of you.

It won't be a stylish marriage.

I can't afford a carriage.

But you'll look sweet

Upon the seat of a bicycle built for two.

### Chapter 3- Unsolicited "Wisdom"

After he walked Eurydice home, Orpheus turned back and went to his own. It was one AM and no candle light was in evidence. He hoped his parents were asleep as he was in too good spirits and too tired to deal with any kind of harangue. He first went to the kitchen using the moonlight to direct him to the pine corner cupboard. The open top displayed the family pewter collection, but the lower closed cabinet was his desired goal. He opened the latched door and retrieved and old half empty bottle of red wine, only used on special occasions. He poured himself half a glass and drank it slowly. Though his body was exhausted to the point of stumbling around with legs that weighed a ton, his mind was alive with thoughts of Eurydice, the great possibilities and the not entirely imagined difficulties likely in Sudbury. He grew up in a predominately white part of Boston and he remembered many of the comments he had heard about "negroes", their proper place, their easy ungodly sexual practices, their laziness and the resultant life of squalor. Even as a kid he wondered how they knew all these things without having had the experience of knowing any black people. His Catholic Church priests never addressed the subject. He concluded that the insight he apparently lacked must have been written in one of God's books that he had missed. The wine took quick effect and his circumspection turned to some kind of amusement, akin to laughing at mongoloids, but directed at people not handicapped, at least not on the surface. He found his way to his bed and collapsed into it thankful that to the best of his knowledge he wasn't retarded and moreover, even if he were, it didn't matter because he was in love.

He immediately slept, but not restfully. He was soon wide awake walking in a Boston Back Bay shopping district. The stores were either closed or empty and he knew he had to get something before he went back home, but he couldn't remember what that was. He hoped that he would know it when he saw it. It was utter futility, as he also realized that if he was lucky enough to see it, the only way to get it would be to break in. One store had a small clock held in a dark mahogany lyre case, with a gilded leaf ornament on top. Its center panel was painted and depicted a rural scene being traversed by six redcoats. It shattered the dark silence chiming once, indicating that it was 11:30PM. When he looked away from the clock he was startled to see that his cigarette smoking, sallow acquaintance was standing right next to him wearing a loud red ruffled shirt.

The painter of "F-A-N-T-A-S-Y" offered his hand and said; "Sorry I was in too much of a rush to introduce myself last time. I'm Aazaziel."

Orpheus didn't want to shake his hand, fearing that there would be something like a dead rat in it, so he stood there motionlessly and politely said; "I'm Orpheus."

Aazaziel said; "I know. Pity you. Listen, I'm in a bit of a hurry again. I've been working on mathematics lately. Look at what I've got and tell me what you think." He reached under his fancy shirt and pulled out a small canvas. On it was a white lined square, encompassed, touching and coinciding at the bottom with a yellow lined triangle, which in turn was encompassed and touched at its three points by a brown circle. Beneath it was a simple black lined square, divided further into smaller squares, eight across and eight down containing one and two digit numbers of different colors.

Orpheus said; "It looks like meaningless pretentiousness to me."

Aazaziel didn't seem offended. He put the canvas on the ground and leaned it against the store. He puffed on his cigarette as his other hand rubbed his chin and he affected a wrinkle browed, discerning look. He reached under his shirt again, this time finding a quilled pen loaded with black ink. He bent down and drew a circle inside the white lined square, but not touching it. He said; "Is that any better?"

Orpheus said; "It doesn't make any difference to me. It still looks like something a five year old could do."

Aazaziel put the canvas and pen back under his shirt and mock effacingly said; "It does need more work or something." He pulled out another lit cigarette from one of his pants pockets and puffed on it furiously, blowing smoke in Orpheus' face. His yellow face contorted as if he was doing his best to push out turds without success, then he maniacally screamed out; "Sylphs, driades and oneriads." He punched a hole in the store window and pulled out the clock with his bloody left hand. He smirked very derisively at Orpheus and said calmly; "Take it. It's yours."

Though he really didn't like it, Orpheus, out of fear, not wanting to offend a lunatic, embraced the clock with both hands. Aazaziel laughed in his face and blew more smoke, saying; "It is done." He then disappeared as quickly and quietly as he had appeared.

Orpheus looked back at the store. The clock was in its original place now displaying 11:35 and the window was again intact. But he could see a golden smudge on his right hand, while he noted that the clock's gilded leaf adornment looked duller than before.

Orpheus woke up disgusted. On the one night he really wanted to try to get some really good sleep, Aazaziel had to again show up unannounced. He thought; "Didn't he ever hear of the word "appointment?" Does he think he's so important that I'll be thrilled to see him whenever he deigns to make his presence known? From what I've seen of his artwork, I can live very well without the benefit of seeing any more. Why doesn't he go see someone who wants his company? I'm sure many would be willing to stand on line to get a personal audience with a lousy outcast." He realized that his last thought was intended sarcastically, but also had merit devoid of circuitousness.

His gaze went from the ceiling to the foot of the bed where he saw her. "Oh no," he bemoaned. "I just got away from one nut." Her thin red lips did not smile. He dejectedly said; "What do you want?

She said; "I love you and I want you to love me."

"Good lord."

"No, I'm not the Lord, stupid. I'm Death."

Orpheus couldn't help changing his mindset. He thought; "Yesterday was the best day of my life and today sounds like it has potential for being the absolute worst. If this 'Death' doll is a figment of my imagination, that's the best case scenario. Maybe keeping out of the wine bottle would solve the problem. But if this is the real deal I'm in the deep end of Molly's corral. I certainly didn't expect to meet or think about death until I was at least sixty. And Death loves me? Does that mean that she wants to take me soon?" He said; "I didn't expect to see you for some time."

"Silly expectation. A lot of people have died younger than you."

It was just what he didn't want to hear. He took as good a look at her as he could in light provided only by the full moon. She had long black hair, parted in the middle, hanging down her back and shoulders, very neat, as it was very close to her head, not the least bit unruly. Her pale face held pleasant physical features, but the look in her blue eyes and thin unsmiling lips suggested an adherence to some rule or set of rules that was dominant over him. She wore an open button up black leather coat which reached below the knee. Her blouse was a simple red one buttoned to the top. Her black skirt was a bit on the short side, showing a few inches of thigh. Not much flesh was visible as her high heeled black leather boot tops caressed her knees.

He said; "So, are you here to take me off to nirvana, heaven, hell, or whatever you call it?"

She visibly sighed and said; "You've asked a question I don't know enough to answer." She reflected on the world she knew, lost track of time and went into a dream-like state. She remembered the countless people she had visited, who were almost invariably afraid to see her, at least initially. After spending some time with them she left most with a sense of acceptance and relief. She visualized the nameless members of tribunals handing down orders they've somehow received, not knowing from who or where, but for some reason finding the dictates irresistible. There were dusty old rooms, inhabited by very old men, who were very surprised when found and would often say something seemingly nonsensical as they held one of the files filled with papers, some hanging out, some already on the floor. The room would be full of such files held in cases which traversed the entirety of the space between floor and ceiling. On her last visit to one of them, trying to find a record of Orpheus' birth date, she was greeted by an unkempt seventy year old man with long wild white hair covering most parts of his head. He was kneeling on the floor, looking at one of the files. He seemed to be making five stacks, ostensibly restoring some sort of order. He must have heard her heels on the brick floor, as he looked in her direction and flatly said; "What are you looking for?"

She opened her mouth to make a response, but before she got a word out he said; "It doesn't matter. You won't find it here." He cackled piercingly for a second and then methodically put his head back down and continued his chore. She felt uneasy and confused. He was so glum and calm she considered the possibility that he might all of a sudden spring at her like a snake. She took a quick look at the cabinets and saw no signs indicating any type of order, by letter or number. She pulled out one dripping file herself and viewed the contents while standing. The first page contained information concerning un-named chipmunk births in Old Chatham, New York in 1787. The second had partial information about medical doctors practicing in Rhode Island in 1800. She put the file back and walked out, taking a backward glance at the man on his knees. He did not spring, but she caught him looking at her, with a big smile on his face, which he quickly stopped, putting his face back in the file. She particularly remembered this visit because it was the first smile she could recall seeing there.

Orpheus saw her reverie and sensed uncertainty and confusion. He said; "I'd feel a little more comfortable if you knew what you were trying to do."

She wasn't yet sure of what she wanted to do. The tribunal put Orpheus Christopher on the list of jobs she was given to do in 1825. But, she fell in love with him and now was sad to see that he loved Eurydice. Yes, she should have surmised, but her normally crystal clear view was clouded. Since falling in love her ethereal existence had slowly and confusingly been turning into flesh, which part now seemed dominant. She didn't know what she wanted to do now and she further didn't know where the people on her lists went. She wasn't required to make the full trip, so she left them at a river, or on a mountain, or in a desert, or most anywhere, to finish their own journey.

She sternly said; "You human beings are full of questions. Will you ever learn to just shut up?" She disappeared.

Orpheus thought that he was glad to still be alive. The sun was just beginning to make its presence known and he went downstairs, hoping that his mother was up and could validate his existence. He descended the stairs and sat at the kitchen table, seeing his mother heating up water in a metal pot hung over the ample fire. "Good morning, Mom," he said.

He could see no reaction from the lady dressed in a flowing pale yellow and white floor length robe. Her head was adorned with a small white cap that looked more like a doily. How it remained on her long blonde hair was a mystery to him. More importantly, he wanted to have his presence noticed by the lady currently more interested in the pot's water.

He more loudly called out; "What's so interesting over there?"

He still obtained no reaction. His father entered the room already dressed in his work clothes; rough blue denim pants and a light tan button up heavy long sleeved shirt. He said; "I'm going out to the shed. I want to get as much done as I can, before it heats up."

Mom looked at him and said; "See you later, hon."

"It might be much later. I'm probably not getting any help today and I've got a lot of orders to fill." He kissed his wife's cheek and walked to the front door, glancing in Orpheus' direction, but didn't say anything. At least he didn't have a doily on his head, but Orpheus wished someone other than Death would speak to him, if only to tell him that he was horrible. He called out loudly "I'm sorry, Mom."

There was still no kind of response and Orpheus was worried that perhaps Death had taken him and that it was only his invisible spirit seeking attention. That would be a punishment he didn't think he deserved, especially since he had just gotten to know Eurydice. He couldn't stand the suspense and decided to get more overt. He walked over to his mother and grabbed her left arm with his right hand and gently pulled.

"Careful," she exclaimed. "You're going to make me scald myself with this hot water."

Relieved, Orpheus said; "Oh, great, Mom. I promise I'll always tell you when I'm going to be out wandering and when I'll be home." He meant that sincerely, but didn't yet realize the impossibility of keeping such a promise.

She said; "That's all we wanted to hear, son. Now, let me do this without setting myself on fire. I'll soon have a big breakfast for you. You're going to need it. Your father has a lot of work for you."

Eurydice's morning awakening was equivalently rude, but at least it wasn't prompted by weird strangers. She was shaken from her dreamless state by her father's hands rubbing her belly. He then pulled her up by the hands with his own.

He said; "Eurydice, we were worried about you."

"Thanks," she said, drowsily. "But as you can see I'm all right."

Her mood was a dreamy good one, until her father slapped her face and said; "Don't get impertinent with me."

She was shocked. He had never previously struck her and she hadn't always been an angel. She was also annoyed because she didn't think she was being the least bit impertinent. Her eyes must have given away her private thoughts, as her father continued his admonishment by saying; "You not only had to go traipsing off with a boy, but he had to be a white one, right in front of the whole town."

"The whole town, to which I think you're referring, is the rich white people who ignored us all last night."

"I'm sure they didn't ignore you and your new boyfriend."

"I don't really care if they did or didn't notice. If they're going to ignore us socially it's quite fine with me, but it's not fair if they then scrutinize and comment on behavior that's none of their business. If they want to ignore me, then ignore me completely."

Her father's face softened and he even made a little smile. He softly said; "I don't think it's the least bit fair either. But, you know damn well how it is. Right now I want to get this church and school started here. The people really need it and it's going to require the cooperation of the people you have no feeling for."

The construction of the church and school were now complete and finding customers was the order of the day. During the three year project, numerous people from most parts of town were employed and prosperity was on the rise in the east, west and south. Folks in the north saw no effect, as they were already prosperous and didn't work for anyone other than themselves. Jesus had indeed provided. The mixing of different types of people working together was found encouraging by most residents, "working" being the key word. "Together" became a word with unspoken limitations, previously being absolute. A new word, like "limited togetherness" or "semi-togetherness," was now necessary to have any hope of avoiding confusion and even then would require individual understandings and further clarification, suitable for essays.

Her face was always very expressive and he gathered that she was preparing to make some intricate philosophical comment. He didn't want to risk continuing a conversation he began contentiously and now had second thoughts about. Eurydice could always melt his anger. He well knew her temper and wanted to avoid her using it to purposely make the situation worse. He already had made the points he wanted to. Any more would be mere repetition or pointless tangents. He kissed the cheek he had slapped, held her by the shoulders, looked into her eyes and said; "I don't know, baby girl. If you had to get interested in a white boy, why couldn't you have picked one of the rich ones?"

They both laughed and she pushed him back. She jumped out of bed and said; "Oh, that's just like you, Daddy. Money makes everything all right." She expected some response and hoped for a funny one, but instead he just looked at her warmly and said nothing. He hoped that they both understood the degree of truth in her last statement and didn't want to resurrect a well-played-out discussion. He felt that he had chosen to recognize money's well entrenched place in the world and so far, she seemed to have a penchant for defying it. He actually liked that aspect of her because he could still remember when he entertained similar notions. He never told her of that for a few reasons; it could possibly strengthen her resolution; she might find it hard to believe; and, it would most likely lead to a conversation that sounded like; "When I was your age, little girl..................."

They walked downstairs and sat at the dining room table already occupied by the lady of the house. Mom said; "Hi, girl. You get a good night's sleep?"

Eurydice said; "Good morning, Mom. Sure did, at least until the dreary bell of rationality resounded with a dull thud."

The Chippendale grandfather's clock set off eight slightly discordant chimes and the three of them could no longer contain themselves. Betsy walked slowly in, balancing cups and plates on a silver tray. She quietly served. When she finished Eurydice's mom and dad said "Thank you, Betsy."

Betsy looked back at the silent Eurydice as she walked away. Eurydice caught the questioning look, laughed and said; "I'll tell you all about it later, Betsy."

Her parents then both gave Eurydice another questioning look, containing a hint of disapproval. She was not compelled to respond to the mute query.

By the time Eurydice was through with her morning rituals and spending an hour with Betsy, wherein, for once, she did most of the talking, the off-key clock had already chimed in its unadjusted opinion four more protracted times, hitting its high point at the last, with twelve.

As a result of commencing at the sun's peak, when her walk got her to Orpheus' house, her blue summer dress was clinging to her body looking almost as if she didn't use the bridge to cross the river.

Orpheus had put in a good morning's work and saw her through the open barn door. "Dad, I'm going to take a little break." His father's eyes followed him to the door and he saw the curvy impetus for that break standing by the pots in front, one strap on each shoulder, both pretending to be holding up what was already well-held below.

Orpheus ran over to her, threw his arms around her waist and gave her a big squeeze, which she happily returned. He kissed her lips sweetly, then her eyes and then the top of her nose. He started to lick the sweat from her bare neck, when she pulled away, saying; "Baby, the day's still young and your father is right there."

Orpheus didn't look back and said; "How was your morning?"

"Just a little bit difficult, but I think I handled it. How about you?"

"Same."

Orpheus' mother came out the front door and called out; "Come on in here. You both look like you could use some ice tea."

The couple held hands and walked to the house. Orpheus followed his mother and led Eurydice to the kitchen table. Introductions were made and Mom poured three glasses of ice tea and stocked them with lemon slices. The three sipped their ice cold beverages.

Eurydice felt the least bit strange, sitting in the kitchen, with the fireplace blazing, as she did with Betsy, to the consternation of her father. She briefly entertained the thought that because she was black she was being steered into the servant's domain. She dismissed the feeling when she recalled the diminutive size of the house, observed the fine quality of the Heppelwhite kitchen table and didn't see any household help. She laughed to herself when she thought; "Some white people actually do things for themselves! They even congregate in the kitchen like house slaves."

Mom said, "Eurydice. I'm not prone to beating around the bush, so please don't be offended when I ask you if you know that you're looking for trouble?"

Eurydice wanted a bit of clarification before answering. She said; "Please bear with me a bit. Do you mean that I'm looking for trouble from you and your husband? And you directed that question at me. If there is some sort of trouble, isn't Orpheus just as responsible?"

Mom touched the hand Eurydice had on the table and said; "There will never be any trouble generated by my husband or me. It's just the rest of the world that could be a problem. And secondly, I think Orpheus is as susceptible, but I also think that things could be much worse for you."

Eurydice squeezed Mom's fingers and said; "Mom, I know you bring this up because you care. I already talked about this to my father, using different words. My answer is that I suspect that something is coming. I don't know which rock it will crawl out from under, but it's bound to be at least one of them. The ugly little minds of the world will always try to put limits on the others. They want everyone to be just as miserable as they are. But, I'll tell you, I, for one am not going to be intimidated. Orpheus, have you got anything to say?"

"I can't add anything to what you say. I agree with it all."

Mom looked at both of them and said; "If you ever need any help you can count on me."

All three parties to this conversation would come to remember it very well.

A little later Mom said; "Now that we all understand each other so well, let me ask you another gauche question. How come a black girl has a better command of the English language than the Christophers?"

They made genuine but polite smiles and Eurydice said; "I have an advantage over you. I've actually lived in England."

Death entered the dimly lit corridor. Closed, darkly stained, heavy oak doors broke up the dirty gray walls. The large, elaborately carved, reddish brown stained cornices where the wall met the ceiling seemed a dichotomy. She passed by gold lettered signs on doors which said "Drugs and Medicines," "Law," "Property," "Weaponry" and "Money." At the end of the hall, right in front of her face was the one she was looking for; "Death, Taxes and Garbage." Her coat was buttoned to the neck and her gloved left hand knocked twice lightly and she entered.

The five men seated at the table did not look up, but rather continued their perusal of some important papers, which they held in their hands, hiding most of their faces. Only able to get a good view from the severely wrinkled foreheads up she guessed that they were very, very old. Rather than something commanding more reverence their desk was topped by three wide pine boards, stained dark brown, resembling a picnic table. The five carcasses were resting on a backless bench of similar color and constitution. She could see the long black robes, which mimicked that of a priest or judge, covering their legs and hanging on the floor.

She approached the bench and not noting any possible seat, stood and said; "Excuse me. I'm Death. I believe we have an appointment."

The ancient one in the middle looked up from his papers, exposing the rest of his pale white face. The deep lines and cracks on his checks, chin and lips made her think that he might start bleeding any minute when he croaked; "Sorry, yes, yes, you're Death, aren't you?"

Death was tempted to say; "Funny, I just thought I heard someone else say that." However, considering the seriousness of the occasion, she merely said; "Yes, I am."

The other four now looked up at her revealing that their exposed white flesh was in a similar condition as the middle man, but decorated with various red, blue and yellow makeups, in an apparent unsuccessful attempt to hide the cracks.

"Good, good," said the spokesman in the middle. "Why did you request this meeting?"

"I want to retire."

He paused a few seconds, no doubt surprised, fumbled for words and finally came up with; "You've been doing this for at least as long as we have records."

"I believe I created the position."

"Well, what's the problem now? We can provide you with an assistant if necessary."

She responded; "I just don't feel like doing it anymore," which was true as far as it goes. But, as soon as the words came out, she realized that she should have been better prepared. Feelings have no meaning here. She also, didn't want to say the truth, which was that, despite being ordered, she primarily didn't want to be tempted to bring Orpheus to the Pearly Gates, especially in anger over his temporary dalliance with Eurydice.

The middle man said what she expected; "You're experiencing feelings?"

She tried to skirt the issue and said; "I should have said that I have tired of the position."

"We can provide you with the best psychiatric help." He looked at her, as if to say that a better explanation is required.

She detected the meaning and thought for a while. "I certainly have no use for a psychiatrist. I can only reiterate my previously spoken replies and respectfully request your learned judgment."

"Thank you, but it's not my judgment that is required. I receive rules, just like you, from others, who, in turn, have received them from others; who, in turn, have received them from others; etc., etc., probably to infinity. Excuse me, one moment." He slowly got up from his seat and shuffled to the closed door of the back room, opened it, entered and shut the door behind him.

She looked at the concrete floor while she waited. She raised her eyes to see the four painted monsters staring at her silently. When she looked at them, they again covered up with their important papers. The spokesman for the group emerged from the back room with his left index finger inserted in a gigantic blue book. He placed it on the table, open to where his finger formerly resided and sat down. He said; "I may have the answer. Let me read it to you. It says that in the event of any demise or disability of Death, including, but not limited to poor performance, erratic behavior, disobeying instructions, or any other demonstration of individuality, she may be replaced by a Second Death. The "Death, Taxes and Garbage" five man tribunal shall be required to first, unanimously agree that Death's replacement is necessary. Secondly, the Tribunal shall monitor her performance on a daily basis and thirdly, shall institute a search, consuming at least sixty days, for a replacement Second Death. That candidate shall be approved unanimously by all Tribunal members and ancillary departments. Death, in turn, shall have the choice of oblivion, or becoming a mortal human being, as defined and be subject to the Second Death."

Death shook her head from side to side slowly and said; "Things were a lot simpler when I started this job."

"No doubt. Things were much simpler then. We have a lot of work to do. First, I'd like to run this by the Law Tribunal. I need clarification in certain areas and would like to get their written opinion that no other existing rule contradicts this one. Reference is specifically made to 'demise or disability.' This situation is really a 'request.'"

Death didn't worry about getting her needs met, anymore. She could see that the rule was written in such a way that she could, in actuality, dismiss herself from the job any time she wanted, merely by not doing it. The tribunal had the burden of working out the details. So, she decided that she preferred to keep the power and the immortality and would try to restrain herself from killing Orpheus the next time she saw him with sweaty, black Eurydice. She said; "May I change my request?"

"Certainly, please do."

"I'd like to keep my job, but request a fact finding project concerning the procedures entailed, if I did quit."

"Whew. Of course. Thank you. We'll get to work on that, immediately, but without the time pressure. Would you like to schedule another meeting in, say, ninety days, at which time we can tell you the progress we have made?"

She curtly said; "Yes." She left the room, thinking that if she keeps her powers and she gets angry enough, she can kill that damn Eurydice, though not on her list and not kill Orpheus, though he was on it. She could tell Orpheus that Eurydice was marked to die by the powers that be, whoever they are. How could he know better? What could the Tribunal and Orpheus do about it anyway? The Tribunal would get bogged down in unclear procedures and details. She could tell Orpheus it was an inevitability and how could he be sure of any argument that momentarily popped into his head? In a short time she could make him forget about Eurydice, doing what, more and more, seemed to be coming naturally for her.

### Chapter 4- Sunrise and Fantasy Realized

Orpheus woke up in his own bed the next day. He had recently learned to check the end of it and sure enough, there she was in all her dark splendor. If he had to have a visitor every morning, one of the female variety was preferable to Aazaziel. She was dressed in her usual outfit, the coat again open showing some fleshy thigh. He smiled and said; "Good morning, queen of my dreams."

Death didn't appreciate what she took for a degree of sarcasm and sternly said; "You were with her again yesterday, weren't you?"

Feeling playful, he responded; "That's a silly question. If you are who you say you are, you already know the answer."

"Don't get funny with me. I can take you out of here easier than someone brought you in."

"Is that how you talk to somebody you love?"

"You're really pushing your luck, buster."

"Okay, okay. Let's start over again freshly. We have to get new names to call each other. It's really weird for me to call you Death and I never really liked the name Orpheus. How about I call you 'D' and you call me 'O'."

She probably had her first smile of the day and she said; "I like it. 'D' and 'O'. If we go forward it's 'do' and if we go backward it's almost 'odd'."

"That's if you put your name first. If you put mine first, it's reversed."

"You have a way of ending my short good moods. Why do you have to be difficult?"

"I guess I have a lousy sense of humor. I was trying to make you laugh. Truth be told, I don't care which name goes first. Most of the time I don't know if I'm going backward or forward anyway."

"You look pretty forward to me, especially when you're around Eurydice."

"Not back to that again."

"How do you expect me to feel under the circumstances?"

"I understand all too well. But what do you want me to do? I love her."

"I wish I knew. I've never dealt with anything like this before."

"I wish I knew, too. For some strange reason I like you, but I have no control over the way I feel about Eurydice. She's beautiful, brave and independent. And probably most importantly she loves me. Even if she leaves me, I'll always love her."

"I'm just beginning to understand such things."

"Do you have any idea why you picked me?"

D spoke more firmly and seemed a bit annoyed. "None at all and I don't think I did the picking. It seems to me that if I could control it, I'd have picked someone a lot better looking, with a lot more money. Maybe it's those gigantic bulging lips of yours."

"That suggests that you're favoring your physical aspect."

"I'm as physical as you." Her left hand took hold of the seam of her skirt and lifted it. "Give me a kiss," she said, looking down at him. O wryly smiled and looked into her demanding face a moment. He then settled into a promising, prolonged proposition, proving propulsive.

Later that morning Death decided to pay a visit to another house. Eurydice was already up, sitting in the kitchen with Betsy. She had the audacity to be clad only in her bra and panties, the panoramic display of black flesh shining, thanks to the morning sun streaming through the open window. To make matters worse from D's viewpoint, she and Betsy were joking about various love games. Despite the day's rousing start, D was infuriated. She could have committed mayhem right there, but thought that if she did it at this particular moment Orpheus would know and never forgive her. Besides, why run the risk? O seemed to be coming around to her point of view nicely. She invisibly continued to occupy the kitchen, listening and using her ice cold blue eyes.

Eurydice twirled on the chair to follow Betsy's movement back to the fire. She excitedly said; "And his mother's nice and said she'd help us if necessary. She's funny, too."

Betsy said; "Was his father there?"

Eurydice paused a few seconds, surprised that she didn't even think about that. "No, he was out working in the barn." She paused again, then added; "He knew I was there. If he wanted me to leave he would have said so."

"People aren't always obvious. You say he knew you were there, right? If he had good manners, he would at least have come over and said 'hello'."

Eurydice laughed, saying; "I don't think any of the Christophers have good manners." She thought to herself that she might try to cultivate Dad's friendship, or at least try to get a feel for where he stands on things. It didn't seem to matter much, anyway, as he didn't appear to be a stumbling block. She didn't think that she would ever need anyone's help, but, if she did, she wouldn't mind having another place to go.

Eurydice asked; "Wasn't your husband always out working?"

"Yeah, girl. But he had no choice, he was a slave. I'll tell you that if he was free, he'd of been out somewhere, but I don't call that working." Betsy rolled her eyes and made a snorting laugh.

Eurydice got a laugh out of it, too, but at the same time wondered if her Orpheus could ever be like that. She decided that he couldn't.

His father had been working hard lately and was not yet up, so after coffee Orpheus went right out to the barn to get things started. Aazaziel was already there and had the fire going. This morning he sported a black coat with very padded shoulders and a turned up large collar. Today he had some black shiny material painted on his head. From a distance it gave the appearance of hair, but with a closer view the feel was more that of a skull cap. His dead eyes stared into the fire as he puffed his perennial cigarette.

Orpheus was in a very good mood, so he called out; "At least you're doing something useful today."

"Fire is arguably the most important thing on earth. Speaking of which, I have to tell you that you are getting yourself into one hell of a situation."

"You saw the morning show?"

"I see shows whenever I like."

Orpheus wasn't particularly fond of the thought, though didn't know any way to stop him and contentiously said; "Do you ever act in a show, or are you only a watcher?"

"I always take the easy job. By the way, was that supposed to be a comedy this morning?"

"Did you laugh?"

"Here and there."

"Then, I guess it was a comedy, here and there."

"You know that D is lying to you, don't you?"

"I can't say that I know that. But, with all the weird things going on here, including you, I don't think I know anything."

"Well, I'm telling you that she is. I've known her for years."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Why should you believe her?"

"None of your business. I don't have to explain to you."

Aazaziel blew smoke out his nose in resignation. He said; "She has known every man since the beginning of time. Are you enough of an egomaniac to think that you're the first one she loved? Look at you." He threw his cigarette into the flame in disgust. "I'm your real friend and you don't know it."

"Well, don't pull up your skirt. I'm not interested."

"Funny. Look, pal, tell me the simple truth. Have I ever lied to you?"

"I don't know. I don't really spend a lot of time thinking about you. If you haven't, great. If you have, I don't care."

He lit another cigarette in the fire. "You're impossible. I'm going to go see someone a lot more important than you, who's also a lot more intelligent."

"I wish you'd go see somebody." Orpheus laughed and added; "With that outfit, did you plan on flying around with the bats?"

"I already have. I was here long before you when it was still dark."

"What do you use to see?"

"My innate sense to avoid crashes. Little man, you know, if I felt like it I could set you on fire, but I'm not going to, because I'm your friend, like it or not."

"I really appreciate the favor, pal, but seriously, I don't trust you. You must want something from me."

Aazaziel looked at the dirt floor and then looked Orpheus square in the eye and said; "I'm going to try one more time today, only because I like you and think you need a lot of help. If you had any brains at all you would see that Death has already lied to you and that Eurydice eventually will."

"What I see is that when I look into their eyes I feel a heart rendezvous. When I'm unfortunate enough to be close to you, your eyes look like a dead, bottomless pit."

Aazaziel screeched loudly and flew out the open door, brushing by Orpheus.

A few seconds later Orpheus' dad entered the barn and said; "Who were you talking to?"

Orpheus attempted to be both truthful and nonsensical simultaneously and said; "Oh, the devil is bothering me again."

Dad somberly and somewhat humorously replied with no inflection; "Bastard is always around. Best thing to do is refuse to acknowledge his existence. Really bothers him."

"Easier said than done."

"I know, Or. I got a few years on you. But just remember one big thing. He's trickier than most people realize, otherwise he wouldn't be able to get away with all his crap."

"What's his best trick?"

"Well, you know that everybody says that the devil is a liar. Trick is that if he always lied, he'd be easy to deal with. You could just do or believe the opposite of what he says. The devil knows that, so he tells what seems true and helpful most of the time and then after he's gained your confidence, he lays the big lie on you, that ruins your life."

Orpheus questioned; "I guess you've beaten him at his own game?"

Dad smiled and said; "Thanks, son. But, quite honestly, I don't know for sure. I probably still have a lot of road to walk and I won't be able to say for sure until the end."

Orpheus was trying to absorb the new thoughts and didn't know what to say or ask next. Consequently he stared at his father's impassive face.

Dad read the question loud and clear. He added; "Just keep a good heart and you'll figure out the details when you need to." He still saw a somewhat perplexed look on his son's face, but thought it was a bit less so than a moment prior. He didn't have anything else to add at the moment. He could only think of specific circumstances he had experienced, but the stories needed prologues, contexts, guesses, nuances, relative moralities and generally, necessitated novel length explanations, to avoid possible misunderstandings. So, instead of unsuccessfully attempting to write an impromptu book, with no chance to edit it, he put his hand behind Orpheus neck, pulled him to his chest, pushed him away and said; "I'm really tired and I don't feel like making any nails today. I'll bet you've got other things on your mind, anyway."

Orpheus grinned and slightly nodded.

Dad said; "See, I know some things. You haven't even gotten your pots out front and if you don't feed Molly soon, she's going to eat the fence and attack somebody. So, take care of those two things and then do whatever you like all day. I'm going to get some more sleep." He turned toward the door, took a few steps, turned back and added; "Oh yeah, put out the fire too."

Orpheus giggled, sunk his head into his shoulders and, in a few moments said; "Okay."

Dad returned the giggle and said; "I know that's the hardest part." He waved his left hand and walked back to the house.

Orpheus hurriedly doused the flames and scurried with his pots and sign to the road. Molly watched him in disbelief and brayed as loudly as she could, as if to say; "You've got your priorities all wrong and I don't like it one little bit." Orpheus heard her loud and clear, put his right index finger in the air, which she had come to understand means; "Right away," ran to the barn and came back with two hay bales. He threw one over the fence and kept one near him, while he freshened up her water supply. Molly left her hay, went to the trough and gave Orpheus a nip on his neck. It didn't break skin, but he felt it and recoiled. He looked into the eyes on her gigantic head, sighed and smiled at her. He rubbed his left hand under her chin and used his right to furiously pet her snout. He said; "I miss you, too. I've been spending so much time making pots, nails, D and Eurydice that I haven't been spending enough time with you. Well, it's still early and I'm with you." He stood there and watched her refresh herself, ready to move if she decided on a playful bite. He threw the second bale over and rubbed her derriere. Molly showed no reaction and somehow the brown, meaty and furry flesh gave him thoughts of other delectable things.

Orpheus walked west with the sun at his back, a clear blue sky ahead and a pleasant, modest and intermittent zephyr all around. Arriving at Eurydice's house, through an open window, he saw Betsy and she having an animated jocular conversation, both sitting at the kitchen table. He knocked and Betsy met him at the door.

Orpheus grinned and said; "I hope I didn't come in the middle of anything."

Betsy, having never before seen Orpheus, but knowing it was him, eyed his thin, five foot nine body and recalled a young man she knew down in Alabama, many years ago, who was sold to another farm in Georgia. She said; "Lawdy, if it ain't Tuskegee Tom, after years in the bleach shop."

Orpheus thought he got the gist, but wasn't sure and cautiously ventured; "I don't think so."

Betsy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hallway. She said; "I don't think so either, but you're about as dumb as he was."

Eurydice heard the interchange, left her seat and entered the hallway. She said to Betsy; "Why you pickin' on my baby boy?"

Betsy said; "I ain't pickin' on Orpheus," and pushed him in Eurydice's direction.

He went into her open arms and said; "Protect me, mama."

She said; "Not only will I protect you, I'll feed you, too. Betsy and I have assembled a picnic basket, in expectation of your arrival." She put her left index finger to his lips and he gently bit it. They bid their au revoirs to Betsy and walked east, toward the river. Her somewhat dressy, light blue, short-sleeved dress contrasted his denim pants and rolled-up work shirt in all respects, excepting color.

Holding hands and walking side by side, they walked the slate path east toward the bridge, somewhat blinded by the sun directly in their eyes. She motioned with her head and they got off the path when they reached the crossover, heading north into an area of gentleman's farms. They found a thicket of willows, none yet weeping, ten feet from the steadily moving water, which sang an old mellow song. Nobody recalled the words, so rather than singing verbally, they simultaneously started to remove garments. Each eyed the other's progress and tried to keep an even pace, oblivious to anybody or anything that might be lurking in the proximity. Mission accomplished, they took hands and ran into the water, laughing. The initial shock of the new cold flow wore off almost instantaneously, while their minds became focused on trying to keep each other standing on the slippery and rocky river bed, as tons of force did its best to carry them downriver. Satisfied that they could withstand at least some of nature's fury, they held onto each other, returned to solid land and laid down, his right leg on top of her warm left one. Pulsating piglets promptly palpated, partaking pubescent patriotism, piercing primal proscriptions. As they moved around, alternating views and positions, in the distance they got glimpses of a couple in front of a grand Georgian house they could see on the northern shore, kiss the stars and stripes, then raise the Revolutionary flag, in defiance of the covert colonialists.

They ate and drank the contents of their basket, in what seemed like seconds to him. He looked into her now faraway eyes, which were currently attracted to the flowing water jumping over the rocks and any other obstacles in its path. He implored; "That went so quickly."

She diverted her attention back to him, rubbed his cheek and said; "Don't worry, baby. There will be a bigger, new basket tomorrow containing other delights."

Orpheus said; "Maybe we can keep this going forever."

Eurydice slightly raised her eyebrows and said; "Maybe."

### Chapter 5- Life in Nod

The rest of July proved to be a busy month for everybody. James and Ruth Paul made daily excursions into different parts of town, knocking on doors trying to drum up parishioners for his new church. They received some enthusiasm and success in the black neighborhoods, most likely because of also operating the school, which up to now was a privilege only available to the white population of Sudbury. The people themselves didn't warm to the Pauls on a personal basis, often feeling that the overdressed penguins were there to lord it over them. When they did come to the door the white people either told of their present religious affiliation or their complete disinterest in the subject.

The Sunday western trek of the new, exclusively black parishioners grew weekly, most staying after service to find out about the operation of the school, scheduled to open in September. The majority were dismayed at the cost of tuition and books. Reverend Paul spoke to the visiting head financial priest of the Archdiocese to no avail. He was told that the operation would have to be financially viable on its own and offered no subsidy.

The western Sudbury well-to-do burghers watched the initial pilgrimages with consternation. Never before did they have to endure the sight of so many black people in unison traversing their hallowed ground. Backyard fence conversations were guarded, no one wanting to appear upset or contemptuous of congregating Christians, though un-displayed inner sentiments belied the external postures. They watched from windows and didn't venture out until the migration crossed the bridge and returned to the eastern shore. After a few Sundays of orderly sojourns, most decided that they could tolerate the incursion one morning a week from the safety of their window seats.

Death made only every other day visits to Orpheus; morning awakenings, during which her pliable paramour percolated plentiful personal porridge. She had fallen well behind in her usual duties, as she spent maximum hours sitting on the precipice. People in pain were waiting to die all over the globe and she did her best to accommodate them mercifully. She considered using the assistant the tribunal had offered, but decided that she didn't need the constant company of a potential competitor. She did make a few short visits to Eurydice, initially to just watch her and wonder what the black beauty had that she didn't. She took solace in the fact that she saw her long-time associate, Aazaziel, was also spending time with the dark drop drawers. Throughout the eons of her experience with the chain smoker, she had never known him to do anyone any good. His interest in Eurydice would at the worst be neutral to her and at the best would help her place with Orpheus. She realized the contradiction in what she just thought. If Aazaziel was incapable of doing anyone any good, how could his schemes with Eurydice, even indirectly, do her any good? She was too busy to try to make any sense of what might be some insoluble eternal mystery and settled with the simple thought that maybe your enemy's enemy is really not your best friend. This worked for a few minutes, until she realized that at the very least one would have to correctly identify an enemy and define the term. This sounded like a trap for a tribunal to fall into. She had always had the belief that Death was the only thing of perfection in the universe, but now she wondered if the word was spelled with a capital or a small D. Had falling in love destroyed the logic of her existence? She forgot the whole thing and went off to kill a few people.

Orpheus' dad was both happy and tired. Even though he hadn't been in the area long, he got flooded with orders for nails. The fires were burning day and night, as the last thing he wanted was to tell a brand new customer that they would have to wait. He got a new pile of iron delivered, for which he had to pay cash, due to his lack of history in the area. Orpheus was working all day, but insisted on reserving his early evenings for Eurydice. Mrs. Christopher kept hearing that everything was going well, but had her doubts. She couldn't pay Joe McCready for his milk and sat through a few dialogues about how Joe needed the money to feed poor Pokey, while having to behold the huge black iron deposit in the side yard. She spent the rest of the days nervously over-cleaning the house and cooking.

Orpheus and Eurydice had regular early evening picnics on the wetlands near the Hoosatonic. For a while they regularly went to the southeast side, preferring the thick mature vegetation. When the river flooded it was always in this direction, prompting an abundance of willows, oaks and poplars. They could hide in the forest and cool off on a hot summer's night swimming in the river.

During the day Eurydice was making all the necessary arrangements for the school's opening set for September 15. As a consequence she was too tired to get very interested in the visits she was paid by Aazaziel. The first time he appeared in her room, she sensed a noise and opened one sleepy eye to see the short, sallow, smoking man looking through the drawers of the Queen Anne red mahogany highboy.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, yourself," he answered, not turning around, continuing to work his hands through her personal items.

"What do you want here?" she said forcefully.

"I want to talk to you."

"Did you ever hear about making appointments?"

"That's becoming something I'm hearing a lot lately." He closed the drawer he was peeping in with a bang, turned and walked quickly to the bed. She sat up and put her long black legs on the floor. He said; "Don't bother; I'm not the least bit interested."

"I beg your pardon."

"Beg someone else. I don't grant any pardons."

"I'm really starting to get annoyed with you. The first thing you're going to do is put out that damn cigarette."

He took another puff and blew it in her face.

"I'm going to scream and my father won't have any problem handling a little jerk like you."

"If you do, I'll just disappear before he gets here."

"Put out that cigarette," she said in a raised voice. He took another drag, popped the lit cigarette into his mouth and swallowed it.

"Bet you never saw that one before," he grinned, apparently very satisfied with his maneuver.

She drolly countered; "I've seen geeks and sword swallowers before, at the circus with the other clowns."

"Okay, this is getting tedious. Let me come right to the point. I like you and I'd like you to think of me as a friend."

She cut him off, saying; "Do you know how many times I've heard that garbage?"

Unflustered, he continued; "Nonetheless, do you know how many girlfriends Orpheus had before you?"

"No, but I suppose you're going to educate me."

"Precisely. I know of eighteen and he left all of them."

"So?" She recalled having had a few boyfriends before, herself.

"So, what do you think is the next thing he's going to do with you?"

She took the question in a different direction by answering; "None of your business, little man."

"He's just playing with you, stupid girl. He just wants to see what black is like."

"Maybe, I just want to see what white is like."

"You want me to tell him you said that?"

"I don't care. If he's stupid enough to believe anything you say, he's too stupid to keep my interest."

"Damn earth people are getting so smart these days." He moved his mouth around and made use of his tongue, producing the cigarette he had swallowed a few minutes prior, between his lips, took a drag, blew out the smoke through his nose, put his left forearm over his eyes and disappeared.

She was still tired, so she got back into bed to get more sleep. She thought; "Some devil could have been here, or I could have imagined him. Maybe I haven't yet woken up and this whole thing was just a dream." She slept easily, apparently nowhere near as scared of Aazaziel as she had been of the dark apparition she had not yet gotten a good look at.

Subsequent to Aazaziel's unannounced visit to Eurydice, for the next two days, there were constant rains, at times heavy, produced by the intrusion of slow moving dark gray clouds. The sun was almost blocked and at times, it was difficult to tell day from night. Everyone except the wildly in love couple spent maximum time indoors at their house, barn, church, or school. Orpheus and Eurydice didn't mind getting wet in the warm weather.

Toward the end of the second day a western wind cleared the evening sky, just as the sun made a reluctant descent, encircled by a light purple halo. Rainbows seemed to appear and disappear in places somewhere over the river. Orpheus broke from the long day's toil, cleaned up and walked west to Eurydice's house. The dirt road was muddy, making for slow going, but Orpheus prevailed. He thought; "I haven't seen an evening sun for two days. Looking at it again will only enhance my mood," as he walked carefully to avoid falling on the soft mucky surface. He didn't want to show up covered in mud.

The breeze encountered on the cool summer evening was a nice temporary break from the season's heat. This year was particularly tiring for him, since the incandescence seemed to be exacerbated by his regular proximity to fires of various sorts.

His legs went out from under him before he crossed the bridge, negating his efforts to stay clean in one big splash. He kept on and noticed that after crossing the bridge that on the Housatonic's northwest side the path became firmer, but of slippery slate. He again took his time walking, as a slip on the gray tiled surface could result in serious injury, not just mud. He thought that tonight might be the right time to picnic in the less foliated, dryer, northern region.

Roscoe Wadley popped out his east side two room shack, smoking the cigarette he had just rolled. He was very black, tiny and wrinkled, maybe sixty years old. No one knew for sure, including Roscoe, himself. He had shown up in Sudbury about thirty years prior. When directly asked, back then, where he came from, he would just smile and say; "Here and there."

He looked at the cleared sky with disappointment showing in his expression. He muttered; "Now they're going to be back here recruiting more church goers." He saw that as a threat to his economic well-being, as his Jamaican accent and unknown background led him easily into the position of local herbsman. His way of speaking, that often made no sense, even sometimes to Roscoe himself, gave him the status of a mystic and spiritual healer in the community. He had been accepting enough offerings for his medicines, which he referred to as sacraments, not to have to think about money for years. Now, it looked like he was going to be challenged and tested by Christian voodoo in very proper and efficient attire. It irked him that after all the "work" he had done over the past thirty years that at this age, when he had been expecting to be sitting on his rocking chair watching the world go by, "missionaries" of organized, corrupt religion would invade his territory. He cursed the sun, went back inside and looked through the cabinet which contained his tools of the trade, thinking "What God has united, me and my people, let no man or preacher of all things, put asunder."

He was still perturbed with things on Sunday. He was up early enough to watch the entirety of the parade. Wagons, horses and shoes beat the soft earth down. He saw his old friend Elvira in her best deep blue dress, with her three kids. He thought that their posture was bubbly and confident and that pushed his annoyance level into the red zone. He yelled out; "Elvira, what for you so damn happy?"

She stopped in her tracks, watched him walking over and said; "Still the same old minister of joy, I see, Roscoe."

"There's nothin' wrong wit me, girl. I just get sorry to see my old friends wasting their time."

She put her left hand on her hip and shifted a bit, drawing Roscoe's attention and said; "It's my time to waste, not yours."

Roscoe wasn't sure if it was out of intellectual exhaustion or being distracted, but for one of the few times in his life, he had nothing to say. He just stood still and watched Elvira continue her swaying journey. When she was about twenty feet away, she stamped her foot and turned around with both hands on her hips. She said; "You should know that I don't give a damn about the lousy church. But, I'll do whatever it takes to get these kids an education."

He slowly walked back to his shack, no longer annoyed. He didn't feel happy, either, so he went through his magic books to see if he could find something to do about it.

Orpheus cleaned himself up a bit. The mud he got on his face, hands and clothes dried enough that he could brush away the large chunks, only retaining brown smears. Eurydice was looking out her window and saw him coming. She greeted him at the open front door with, "What the hell happened to you?"

He stuck out his tongue and mumbled; "I fell in the mud, obviously."

She laughed, putting her hands on the flesh just above her knees and said; "Oh, I was afraid you were trying to darken your color."

"Don't most white people do exactly that?"

She laughed again; "Yes, especially the guys. So, I lighten my color and it really confuses them. It keeps me amused." She felt no need to explain to him that she was referring to attitude rather than physicality, as she correctly knew he would understand. "Hey, let's not waste our time here. I'll go throw some food and wine in a basket and let's go on our picnic." He waited at the door as she did precisely that, came back, took his right arm with her left and led him down the garden path, out to the road.

He said; "Let's do something different today."

"What?"

"It's very muddy on the other side of the bridge. Let's use this side for a change."

"Okay, I'll follow your lead. I don't know the area at all."

"I'm not so sure I know it all that well either. But, I'm pretty sure we'll get through all right. If we accidently trespass, we'll apologize and ask for directions."

Fifty year old Obadiah Armstrong was gazing out the kitchen window of his two story Federal colonial, probably built sometime around his birth. White clapboard and dark green shutters adorned the high styled nine room structure.

He said; "Helen, would you come look at this?"

His wife joined him at the "bullet glass" window and slowly said; "Oh, my God," when she saw Orpheus and Eurydice, holding hands, running through their field. It wasn't currently under cultivation, as the farmer, who used to lease and operate the corn operation, quit and retired two years ago. Two years' weed growth was in evidence.

"No sense in chasing them," he said, paused and added; "At the rate they're moving they'll be out of here before I get my pants on." He was wearing the fashionable bulky, white leggings sometimes called long johns. His blue outerwear hung in an upstairs bedroom Chippendale kas.

Helen said; "Well, I hope somebody tells them something."

They just continued to stare at the "odd" couple until they passed into the miniscule thicket of willows, which separated the Armstrongs from their northern neighbors whose property was meticulously maintained.

He shook his old, tired, white head and added; "For some reason I just know that someone will."

Orpheus and Eurydice kept going, trying to find a spot with a grove trees near the river, foolishly thinking of possible privacy. What they kept seeing was more barren farmland just like the Armstrongs'. What they didn't see were the four eyes peering out of each house. Their presence produced a slow shaking of countless heads.

The lovers settled on a spot. They found one where the land was five feet above the river and there was a thick congregation of willows, one weeping.

After they settled in Orpheus said; "What kind of weird conversation can we get going today?"

"I don't know. I don't think we ever plan them, they just happen naturally."

He opened the wine bottle and took a slug.

Elevating her voice, she said; "Use a glass."

"Okay, okay." He handed her the bottle which she furiously rubbed with her hand holding a white rag. He rolled his eyes, affected the posture of one who sees all and said; "I'm going to tell you what I see behind you." He looked at her face, with hair illuminated by the declining crimson sun at her rear. The radiance in his eyes precluded the clarity he feigned. He could only see shadows of her nose and lips, but he got a full view of her bright, contemplative brown eyes.

He jokingly started with; "Behind you is the colorful end of the day, maybe yours." She gave him a stern look. He continued; "It's a beautiful end and the blue skies mourn their retreat into darkness, wishing they could follow the sun. The crimson horizon is taking its last gasp." She broke into a smile and Orpheus said; "Look, one part is trying now." She turned around to see and he leaped on the giggling girl, who then spilled the wine. Prurient palaces pried and probed producing plentiful, puddling, pasty pap.

The following day, the owners of the prosperous northern gentleman's farms were busy holding impromptu meetings over their back and side fences. They agreed that some type of law and order had to be established. The children must be considered. Of course, their grown children had moved away years ago, but no one pointed that out. They decided that some kind of action had to be taken, so they hired an armed guard. They got an eighteen year old black man from across the river named Benedict Sebastian. He was glad to have the easy job. His instructions were to occupy the northern end of the river twelve hours a day, carrying a shotgun, intercept any trespassers and give them a lecture about the nature of private property, which was written for him on papers he would carry in his uniform shirt's pocket.

He felt important, as a trusted "friend" of the ruling class and started to feel more at home on the job, than he did at his own home. He was aware that the probable real purpose of this temporary job was to intimidate Orpheus and Eurydice. At least he was so informed by a number of his eastern section neighbors, when he appeared on his high horse. While he considered the comments to have been prompted by jealousy, he put enough credence in the possibility of his job ending if he scared the couple away, that he decided that if he did see Orpheus and Eurydice coming he would hide from them.

He really didn't like what he saw as the audacity of the couple. They at least should try not to be so conspicuous. The feeling was shared by many on both sides of the river, though when on the "job" he often daydreamed about finding a not so nice northern white girl to keep him company.

### Chapter 6- Futile Assuagement Offerings to the Lame and Flowers Forbidden

Both sets of parents became aware of the predominantly negative feelings residents had on both sides of Sudbury. Though they personally didn't voice any objections, they could have possibly been convinced that the liaison would, as most, quickly burn out. That would make things easy for all concerned, as together Orpheus and Eurydice were unwittingly becoming symbols of the festering racial tension, still in its infancy in Sudbury. Oddly, the pairing suggested to no one the possibility of getting along, but rather served as a picture of the problem. What no one considered was the possibility that, rather than a racial outrage, the sentiments of the burghers, might be a larger subliminal statement; the rejection of anything their limited and sequestered experience deemed unconventional or forbidden. The couple, oblivious to and disinterested in the mental failings of others, reveled in the exciting unconventional and forbidden and continued to have almost daily picnics on both sides of the Hoosatonic, probably picking up a few new critics every day. They were so engrossed in each other they were blind to everything else.

Periodically the parents re-iterated their warnings about their not likely having an easy life, which went in one ear and out the other, if it ever made it to the first deaf ear at all. Economic tides showed signs of turning, as the growing church enrollment flattened out and started to actually decline, while the nail business trickled as slowly as an inlet on the eastern shore.

It was September tenth, five days before the official opening of school, when a steady cold northern wind ushered in an early fall. Picnics now required the fortification of heavier clothes and jackets and endeavoring to keep somewhat in motion in a precious and elusive sunny spot. Leaves started to fall, leaving the lovers in better view of their disgruntled audience, which expanded. But watchdog Benedict always said he was elsewhere during the time the duo invaded the northern shoreline, when in actuality he hid and watched, entertaining thoughts too numerous and confused for him to get bored with his status job.

The Pauls and the Christophers both, independently, came up with the same idea. Business was suffering and Orpheus and Eurydice showed no signs of letting up. Maybe some miracle would happen if the salt and pepper couple were legally married. Maybe the world, or at least the world of Sudbury, would recognize the validity of an official, legal and church sanctioning of the messy affair. The frolicsome, deluded duo didn't have any particular feeling about obtaining legal documented status. If it would make their parents happy, it was all right with them.

Quick arrangements were made and though an open invitation was conveyed to the entire town, only those few with a direct, necessary interest in the matter converged on the church the morning of September 12. Reverend James Paul performed the ceremony. Orpheus' father acted as best man and Ruth gave away the bride. To initiate the outdoor ceremony, Orpheus and Eurydice walked down the garden path, an idea prompted in an effort to maximize the number of viewers, in hope of capturing the window watching set. Two-thirds of the hidden sky was covered with dark gray circular, bulbous and booming clouds, which at the very least threatened rain and seemed capable of producing hail and tornadoes. The red rose bushes which lined the path looked as if they could use a drink. Things went as expected. Orpheus felt odder than usual dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt and tie, while Eurydice evinced no dis-ease in a simple light blue dress.

The rest of the audience consisted only of Orpheus' mother, who sat on an old ladder back chair, next to the two witnesses, Hermes Jackson and Aphrodite Cornwall. The somber faced 40 year old black man from the east side held hands between the chairs, with the 45 year old northern white woman, whose face radiated, providing the best light of the morning. Orpheus and Eurydice stood with their backs to the diminutive audience, faced by her reverend father, who stood behind a wooden podium, which supported an open Bible. The two were distracted by the cannons rumbling and kept looking at the sky, trying to find its source, to no avail. Eurydice thought; "I really hope it doesn't rain. It's too cool a morning to get drenched."

The most memorable part of the event for Orpheus was when he had to parrot back the words; "Until death do us part." Taking more meaning than others from that phrase, he gave a concerned look to Eurydice, who, at that moment, was searching the sky for some unknown assailant.

Business done, papers were issued to the couple. The handwriting was that of "God's representative on earth," who remained at the podium, making duplicates, triplicates, quadruplicates and on for filing in the appropriate places.

As Orpheus and Eurydice left, walking back down the same path with their eyes on the turbulent sky, Hermes looked straight into their faces and stoically said; "Chains of leather, chains of gold." Aphrodite squeezed his hand, smiled at the duo and added; "Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue." The new husband and wife had their own thoughts at the moment, smiled and kept going. The angry, booming sky strongly suggested a day spent indoors, so they decided to pay a call on Lettie.

As they walked, their eyes alternated between the uneven ground and the insistent, coarse "heavens." When they got to Orpheus' house, he took her inside, wanting to change out of the suit which felt very bulky and unnatural to him. While he removed his costume they had a mid-morning brunch with juice, partaking of the perfect pageantry provided.

They left and after walking just the least bit, a downpour started soaking them. It became difficult to look up, so they watched their feet sink in the mud. They did not see anyone on the road and didn't notice any kind of activity near Lettie's house. She said; "I just realized something. I'm no longer Eurydice Paul. I'm Eurydice Christopher," the water streaming down her face.

No doubt having the perception without the attendant surprise, he nonchalantly said; "Yeah, so?"

She raised her voice a trifle; "So? So names are important and all of a sudden I've got a different one."

He teasingly said; "Maybe you've changed. Maybe you've evolved," as the water ran off his matted hair into his mouth, making him choke and laugh.

"I'm being serious. There could be implications here that neither of us ever considered. I was a Paul and now I'm a Christopher. Is that an evolution or a de-evolution?"

He saw her troubled, pensive face, put his arms around her waist, leaned forward and kissed it five times and then planted a long sixth on the lips. He continued to hold her and said; "You'll always be the same thing to me; perfection."

Lettie's property still showed no sign of life excepting the wooden rain barrel, which groaned and cracked open, the water finally pushing its way through its confines, producing a warm torrent. They laughed and ran to the door. They saw an eye in the peephole. The door opened slightly and a middle-aged black man's head with burning dark eyes looked at them.

Eurydice said; "Malcolm?"

With an air of annoyance the head said; "Yes, Malcolm. How do you know my name?"

Eurydice pertly answered; "Lettie told me, what do you think?"

Malcolm's head furrowed its brows and calmly said; "I think it best for you two to find another sanctuary." The couple stood there in the torrential rain, not really caring, as they couldn't possibly get any wetter and the water felt pleasant, being warmer than the air.

Orpheus disgustedly registered his opinion and said; "Look, grandpa, we didn't intend to have the pleasure of your company all day. Can we just say hello to Lettie?"

Malcolm glared at Orpheus a few seconds and then called out; "Lettie, you got company."

Momentarily Lettie's head replaced Malcolm's in the door slot. She was surprised to see them and said; "I thought you two were getting married today."

Eurydice said; "We already did that."

Lettie opened the door widely to show that her 200 pound chocolate body was covered only in a thin white robe, somewhat tied around her waist. She said; "Get in here, what in hell are you standing out there for?"

Malcolm moved his thin dark body with its attendant shorts to the bedroom door and said; "You got ten minutes." He closed the door behind him.

Lettie said; "Come on in. Come on in. Don't mind that cranky old man. He's never here and when he does decide to show up, he thinks he owns the place." They followed her wide berth to the kitchen table and the three sat down. Lettie said; "Congratulations." She paused, then added; "I guess. So, how does it feel to be married?"

Orpheus said; "I don't know. I don't think it has sunk in yet."

Eurydice said; "Weird. I'm trying to find some sense about changing my name."

Orpheus made a clucking sound with his tongue and said; "Oh, not that again."

Eurydice put her hand on his thigh and said; "It's okay, baby, it's just something new and I'm not yet settled with it." She turned to Lettie and said; "I used to be Eurydice Paul, EP. Now I'm Eurydice Christopher, EC. In fact, if you put Mrs. In front of it, I'm MEC."

Lettie said; "All you got to do is find a CA. You're on your way to Mecca, the way I see it."

Eurydice said; "Where do they keep CA's?"

Lettie said; "I don't know. Maybe somewhere on the west coast." They heard a thump. Malcolm might have knocked something down. The three looked in the direction of the door and Lettie said; "I better get in there before he leaves me with a week's worth of repairs. But, hear me. I like you both, so I want you to know this. Every once in a while forget about yourselves and look at the real situation." She pointed out the window at the sky and continued; "The rumblings are already turning into hard rain in the east, west, north and south on both sides of the river." She stood up, retying her loose robe and before joining Malcolm said; "You can stay here until it lets up."

Orpheus and Eurydice, now alone in the kitchen, listened to the droplets pound on the roof and run off of it in crashing waves. Eurydice said; "I feel funny sitting alone in somebody else's house."

Orpheus said; "Me, too. Let's go. We're already drenched, anyway, so let's go get another warm soaking."

They bravely re-entered the muddy fields and road. Slipping around in the deep mud, they took off their shoes, finding it easier to navigate in bare feet.

Benedict Sebastian got sent home from work early due to the weather. He walked down the road proudly displaying his shotgun and the snazzy new uniform his employers had bestowed upon him. He particularly loved the pleated red jacket covered with gold leafed buttons and medallions. It made him think of a well decorated founding father. The colors were so loud and bright that he knew he was noticed and respected everywhere.

Walking away from any possible mecca, Orpheus and Eurydice were going back to her father's house, church and school, when they spotted Ben coming toward them. The sly grin on his proud face backed up by the shotgun carried in his left hand, was intimidating. Orpheus got in front of her and they crisscrossed him in single file. Everyone's clothes were now soaked to the skin. The couple got back alongside each other and turned to look at the protector of the rich white man's domain, who also had turned back to look at them, or maybe he just wanted another look at the wet woman. He blew her a kiss, smirking with squinted eyes and continued on his way.

Orpheus said; "Doesn't that jerk know that he's getting paid peanuts to protect his master's prestige and property? He acts like it's his."

"Don't you ever see that situation in your own people?"

"What people is that?"

"The privileged whites."

"I guess I never noticed having the privileges some people think whites have. You have more in common with them than I do."

She stopped, got in front of him and took his hand. She looked warmly into his eyes and said; "You have no idea how special you are."

"As long as I'm special to you, that's enough for me." They kissed, but both felt the trepidation some others were trying to instill in them for a while now, it's first success generated by the armed protector of the rich white way. They reached her home. Instead of going into the fine house of her father, though belonging to the league of Christianity, dripping wet, they stopped in the empty church, got on their knees and prayed, neither of them knowing to who or what the thanks, praises and pleas would go. Probably to prosperous participants playing pugilistic plans on the paralytic. They knew that they had identical pumping red hearts. He whispered to her, "They're so smart; they can detect our skin colors. I guess it takes a god to see a heart rendezvous."

"You called," said Aazaziel, appearing in front of them. He bowed at the waist. "At your service."

They stood up to see his sallow face more yellow than heretofore noticed, excepting the parts where blotches of rouge still clung to the slimy=looking surface. His heavy black shirt and pants were covered with leather, gold and rusted dog chains. Eurydice grimaced and said; "Repella, get out of here."

Aazaziel dourly said; "The name is Aazaziel, my pretty lady." His beady eyes focused on her middle, fascinated by the view afforded by the wet dress pasted on her wide hips.

Orpheus squinted when he looked at Eurydice and said; "You know this jerk?"

Eurydice deadpanned; "Yeah, lucky me. You, too?"

Orpheus said; "I wouldn't use the word know. I've met him."

Eurydice said; "Better word. I stand corrected."

Aazaziel said; "Glad to see preliminaries are out of the way. Now, my good friends, make my day and let me be of service."

Orpheus sarcastically said; "Let me have one of your rusted chains. I'm trying to be fashionable, lately."

Eurydice chuckled and said; "Me, too."

Happy that they asked for something, but surprised at the desired objects, Aazaziel unfastened two rusted chains and handed them to the couple. They helped each other refasten them around their right wrists. They walked out of the church followed by the rattling one, to see that the rain had stopped and the sun was making its presence known. Orpheus grabbed the chain with his left hand and pulled. It broke and fell to the ground. Eurydice did the same, leaving two shattered articles of fashion half buried in the sunlit mud.

"Fashion statement?" queried Aazaziel.

Orpheus said; "Maybe not yours, but ours." He looked at Eurydice who was nodding yes and smiling at him.

Aazaziel shrugged his shoulders and said; "I can replace them. More are being made every day." He vanished.

Orpheus entered his bedroom later that evening, to behold a livid Death waiting for him. She occupied a light blue upholstered Queen Anne wing chair, her black skirt much higher than usual and her leather boots sat on the floor to the chair's left. She said; "O, you're really testing my patience. Let me remind you who I am and what I can do." She pointed a long finger out the open window and six sparrows dropped from the sky.

His eyes popped wide open and he implored; "What did I do? What did they do?"

"Don't act stupid with me. You had to go and marry her? It wasn't bad enough to be with her?"

"It wasn't my idea and it wasn't hers either. What difference does it make?"

"What difference?" she screamed. "Papers are now filed all over the place, documenting that you two are an item."

"It doesn't change anything, D. We're all still the same." His eyes started at her feet and slowly worked their way up.

"My world is ruled by papers and so is yours, if you'd pay any real attention to it." Her left hand rubbed the inside of her thigh.

He said; "I see things a lot more interesting than papers." Protestors prorated public priorities.

A few minutes after she left, D's anger resurfaced. She thought; "That damn Eurydice and her family are orchestrating this. But, why? What do they want? What will they do next?" She had no idea. When she pondered unknowns in the past she would resort to her standard analysis and gauge the economic benefits to the participants. Unfortunately, this time that approach also led her nowhere, as she failed to consider the institutionalized church as a profit hungry, image conscious enterprise. She further reflected; "If there was any possible benefit to anyone that would be Orpheus. Her family seemed to possess the bulk of the assets, but they were most likely the legal property of the church James worked for." She hated it, when her calculations led to no solution. She decided to visit the "ebony princess."

Eurydice was already asleep when Death arrived. She was writhing around slowly on the bed. She must have kicked off her covers and Death could see tons of curvy black flesh under Eurydice's short sheer nightgown. She was jealous and thought of her own more angular white body. She raised her hand and pointed a finger at the wingless sparrow. She stopped. She realized that she probably was acting with emotion, always a bad idea. She remembered that Orpheus might never forgive her. She wished she had a finer tuned power, but she was limited to black and white, able only, to turn the switch off, or to leave it on. She could turn the switch off for both Eurydice and Orpheus and take him as a slave, but that's not the way she wanted things.

Eurydice's pleasant dream of eternal sunlit picnics at the river with Orpheus segued into a vague sense of grey covered trepidation. She looked at him and he had the same wrinkled brow. They looked into each other's fearful eyes, while they were shadowed by four flocks of 100 swallows flying back and forth in seeming panic. They looked at the sky and saw slow circling hawks to the north, south, east and west. Eurydice felt herself pierce the sky and fly home alone. She went through the open second floor window to her bedroom. She lay down in bed and pulled the covers over her head. She felt them pulled down, revealing her dark curves to an intruder. Death's black outfit was half unbuttoned and she stared enviously at the woman in bed. Eurydice sat up and said; "Who are you? What do you want?" Death's ashen white face stared blankly. She opened her mouth and out came a six inch bright red curled tongue, reminiscent of a serpent's. Death chuckled; "I do have my lizard qualities, you know." She got on her hands and knees and crawled under the bed. Eurydice was afraid to get out of bed, fearing some sort of attack. So she stayed on the cushioned rest place. After a few minutes of silence she dangled over the edge, put her hands on the floor and lowered her head to the ground to look under the bed. A tongue licked softly and wetly all over her face, then disappeared as Eurydice's legs fell to the wooden planked floor.

### Chapter 7- Rumors of War and Passionate Conscription Avoidant Behavior

James and Ruth Paul anticipated the September 15 school opening day with both hope and fear. They had prepared and canvassed the town to the point of exhaustion. On opening Monday the greeting duo of Pauls and a now new duo of Orpheus and Eurydice Christophers stood in front of the wide cedar door. Mothers trudged down the rose lined path with youngsters in tow. Some of the children were agitated and jumped all over the place. Others were calm, silent and staring with wide eyes as they held their mothers' hands. Still others shuffled their feet as slowly as they possibly could, leaned back toward their homes and seemed to hope for a last minute reprieve.

Roscoe stood in front of the neighboring house to the east, ranting. "What for anybody want this ras klaat? You want the babies to learn what great men were Columbus, Morgan and Lafitte?" He whirled like a dervish passing in front of many in the procession.

The residents of the house he was in front of watched the whole scene with their own form of fear and anticipation. They were less than enthused to see the black caravan for the second consecutive day. They also wished that Roscoe would find another place to register his strong opinions. They didn't know exactly what he was saying, but it sounded as if he liked the school as much as they did. They quietly watched, very interested in future developments.

The parents, leading their children, through the chilly, forty degree morning, evinced either annoyance or boredom toward Roscoe, adamantly doing their best to whisk their kids around him. The kids were generally amused. Some pointed and watched his fervent and passionate dance, not knowing that he possibly had a stronger self-interest than a children-interest. Parents knew the score.

When he crossed in front of her, Elvira said loudly and sternly; "Roscoe, you so damn ignorant. These kids have to learn some things you don't know anything about, like how to read and write."

Roscoe planned for and was waiting for this interchange in front of an audience. He stopped his whirling, confronted Elvira and said loudly, to a now stationary audience; "You want the kids know the winner's version of history and religion?"

Elvira repeated her previous winning line calmly and confidently; "I want them to get a diploma they can take to Boston and make something of themselves."

Roscoe raised his voice a notch and said; "What you know about Boston, bush girl? Better they stay here and learn how to farm or fix tractors."

Elvira was embarrassed as she had been a country girl all her life, not even visiting any big city and consequently was silent.

Roscoe continued; "How much you pay them parasites to give the kids useless information and lies?"

He was on a roll and many of the mothers saw things his way and turned back, looking at Elvira as if she were some kind of fool.

The net result of this was that no one was happy. Roscoe wanted everyone to turn back and was disappointed. The Pauls shared the sorrow, having optimistically hoped for twice the actual attendance. The white west siders had grudgingly learned to tolerate the Sunday march of black feet and now saw that, at least to some degree, this would now be a daily event. They considered the constant invasion obviously conducive to commotion and potential riots.

The positions were solidified when a pair of wagons passed through town a week later, on their way from Boston to Julep, Mississippi. The carriages were of plain planked horizontal wood, interrupted only by the iron barred windows and the red tin roof. The drivers stopped at a west side inn to clean up and get some good food and drink. Three went in and one kept his seat holding a rifle, ready to shoot.

Inside, the three skinny, unshaved for weeks and consequently scraggly bearded, smelly and raucous men got to talking to the proprietors and patrons, whether they liked it or not. The Mississippians shook their heads in amazement after a few whiskey shots, when they heard about the black school and the "concerns" in this part of town.

Lemuel said; "We know how to treat our niggers down home, I'll tell you. Come on outside. I'll show you something."

Five hundred feet away, school had just let out. The kids and their parents were curious about the strangers and their cargo. The nervous homeowners were all watching out their windows as they saw the undesired procession on its way.

Lemuel called out; "Randy, get the irons off of Mary Lee."

Randy got up from his shotgun seat, did as he was told and unlocked the back door of the rear wagon.

Lemuel laughingly said; "Mary Lee. Come on out here, girl. You have a few gentlemen callers." Randy pushed her out the door and held her bound hands, guiding her down the three steps to the ground.

The naked light brown skinned beauty was embarrassed and twisted in different directions trying to cover up, to no avail.

Lemuel temporarily took his eyes off her ass and chastised; "That's no kind of dance, girl. You can do a whole lot better than that." When she hesitated, he took out a pistol and fired it into the ground six inches from her bare feet.

She started to bump and grind with her still bound hands held above her head. Lemuel entertained the crowd when he leered and said; "She's my favorite." His three partners laughed. He surveyed the multitude, grinned and said; "Any of you white boys interested?"

Some had more than a smattering of interest but didn't want to be the first to say so. As a consequence they just nervously looked at each other, with facial expressions they did their best to mute.

Lemuel smirked, put his hand on her ass and said; "Okay, Mary Lee, nice. Go back in and join your friends. I'll see you later." He then said to the crowd in general; "Anybody who wants to look at the others, feel free." He moved two boxes under the barred windows and the people got a view of sixteen nude chained and shackled slaves, sitting on the floor, leaning up against the wagon walls, eight male and eight female, all with their heads down.

It took at least an hour for Lemuel and company to get back on the road as every white person around chose to make lengthy observations, as did some of the curious black school children and their parents. It was quite a show in "free" Massachusetts.

The positions took stronger hold, but no changes of any substance took place during the ensuing month. The watchers watched the other watchers, all presently content to bemoan the current state of Sudbury. On October 15, some decisions were made. Up until now Orpheus and Eurydice maintained their separate residences and saw each other outside, for the most part. James Paul's active and desperate mind had been working.

Fall had completely set in and the outdoors was intolerably cold at times. The trees were now completely defoliated and the couple could feel eyes on them, whichever side of the river they occupied. They tried going south, to town, where the commercial enterprises and eateries afforded shelter from the elements at a price. While the business owners were accustomed to taking money from people, black or white, the mixture of the two was disturbing, though they said nothing and hoped that the bad feelings others had about the two wouldn't rub off on their cash registers. "Separate but equal" rules were assuaged when the couple used the black side, at least no one pointed out any violation. They were not met with any open antagonism, but took the hint, when they saw the pattern consistently and clearly. Whenever they engaged someone in conversation, they always picked a person who just had to go do some compelling chore that very moment, excusing themselves, some politely and some not. They weren't overly discouraged as the lack of other stimulation resulted in more time available to prospect prosperous paths perusing plentiful possibilities.

The town book store proved to be a haven, as it had little patronage and the owner, a French woman in her 50s, didn't mind the company. She managed a living by selling legal books to local lawyers and she hoped this would be the time for Americans to get interested in European literature, with little success to date. Orpheus and Eurydice had a particular interest in " _Jude the Obscure_." The book store owner told them that this was the fifth book of a successful author and his last. Everyone thought it was horrendous, much too bleak. Annoyed at the reaction, the author never wrote another. The couple was particularly surprised to learn that, as they did not find the insightful book any more upsetting then day to day life.

Eurydice said to the French owner; "I know a lot of black people who could have told this story," and didn't get any verbal reply, only a sigh, a mildly shaking head and a shrug.

After the delivery of the early cold it was one of those windless falls. The sky kept getting grayer as the chimney smoke wasn't being cleared out and just seemed to accumulate slowly, day by day. The lack of rain had some people concerned, as the dried out fallen leaves accumulated. All somebody needed was a hot match in the wrong place.

The status remained the quo for the residents of Sudbury. Everyone was somewhat uneasy, annoyed, worried and still. Aazaziel's nervous temperament couldn't tolerate it anymore. Something had to be done and he knew exactly what. He was livid that no human had yet taken action, so he went to see his old pal, Roscoe.

He showed up wearing black pants and white shirt. Sitting on a chair, which he had precariously leaned against the wall, Roscoe calmly said; "Where's the artwork today?"

"I've lost all my inspiration watching you guys sit around here. History is calling, dammit." He stopped speaking to take a few cigarette puffs.

Roscoe said; "I've been thinking about some things, but I don't want to get put in jail."

Aazaziel derisively replied; "You're not going to get put in jail, if you do what everybody wants done." When he again confirmed that Roscoe was not bright enough to pick up on the lie, he continued; "When church school lets out, send a few of your young non-school customers around for a short while."

Roscoe saw the brilliance of the plan, made no response, but made the necessary arrangements. Roscoe's young devotees were waiting when school let out and walked back east with the troop. They spoke loudly and used words the whites didn't want to hear. They carried sticks and smacked them on the fences, breaking a few rails. No one got the least bit hurt, at least not physically, but the story spread through the white part of town, increasing in severity with each telling, until the people distilled it into two words: "Race riot."

Orpheus and Eurydice enjoyed an encouraging period. They had a new French friend and with the attention of the multitudes centered on concerns for the children and property, their treatment improved from hostility, mild insults and vigorous avoidance to one of benign neglect. This short lived paradise was ended, unsurprisingly, by an official representative of God.

One dark evening Reverend Paul told Eurydice that he would like to have a serious talk with her after dinner. They retreated to the patrician sitting room. Over the burning fireplace hung an oil painting of a revolutionary soldier alone in the woods. They each chose their favorite Heppelwhite wing chair and faced each other. The dominating upholstery was a light blue and red flower pattern on a light green background in her case and a simple pale yellow, green and brown striped pattern in his.

He held up his hands in front of his chest and said; "Now, don't get upset until you hear the whole thing."

Now, expecting something worthy of advanced trepidation, she braced for news very serious and just solemnly nodded at him.

"I'm going to publically disown you and you'll have to move out of here."

Her eyes bulged and Eurydice said; "I'm definitely upset if that's the whole story."

James again held up his hands defensively and calmly said; "No, it's not. I won't really disown you and I'll continue to support you the best I can. Maybe you can move in with your husband, or is that too traditional to interest you?"

She just looked at him, trying to absorb all the changes and implications that such a move would require. Her mind raced between the mechanics, the subterfuge she loathed him for, the vagary of continued support and the value judgment concerning "norms." She was overwhelmed and failed to come up with any intelligent response, then decided that one was not necessary as this was presented to her as a fait accompli.

He continued; "I love you, baby. You'll always be my little girl. But the church and school are failing miserably and the financial head of the archdiocese visited and basically said that if things don't get a whole lot better quickly, it's the end of them."

She indignantly said; "So you think my being with a white guy is repugnant to many of your good church goers?"

He shrugged his shoulders and firmly said; "Look, baby. I'm not going to try to stand in the way of your happiness, but that same happiness may well be making this operation into a pariah."

Eurydice replied, showing her anger; "It always comes down to money, doesn't it? All your attention goes to it and it obviously doesn't do you any good as you can't even support yourself, never mind me."

"I could answer that a number of ways, but I'll tell you this once. I don't make the rules and I have no intention of going back to Boston to light candles and clean the altar."

She deadpanned, her eyes on the ceiling; "When do I have to be out of here?"

"Don't be like that. Take your time, but make it soon."

Eurydice said; "That makes as much sense as most of the things you say." She got up and in a bit of a daze, she walked to Orpheus' house, oblivious of her appearance and surroundings.

When she got there, Orpheus was putting his pots back in the barn. She could see that the selection was much wider and she supposed that sales hadn't been blockbuster for weeks.

He stood up, surprised to see her. He jokingly said; "Oh, it's you. I was hoping for a customer."

She said; "Some joke. Another asshole more concerned with money than me. I just got thrown out of my house and I need a place to stay." She started to cry.

He went to her and put his arms around her waist. He looked into her eyes and said; "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't know. That was a pitiful attempt at humor. You're everything to me." A vision of Death in a short skirt flashed in his mind. He added; "Thrown out? What Happened?"

Her tears subsided, replaced by anger and she said; "Well, kind of. I do have to make other arrangements. That hypocrite father of mine thinks that you and I are screwing up the financial well-being of his coin operated altar. She laughed, looked at him provocatively, caressed his pudenda and with feigned shyness, asked; "Would you mind having me all day, hubby?"

"When you put it that way, I've got no questions. Let's go in and talk to my mom." He kissed her cheek, took her hand and led her inside, where his mom was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking something out of a pewter mug.

Orpheus said; "Mom." She turned his way. "Eurydice is here." They took seats at the table.

Mom nodded and with no inflection said; "Hi."

Orpheus excitedly continued; "Can Eurydice stay here?"

Mom was startled and flatly said; "No, you've got to be kidding." She looked at Eurydice with soft eyes and gently added; "No offense. You know what's been going on."

Eurydice took the statement to have similar meaning as her father's and considered saying something similar to what she said to him, but remembered that it was a losing argument and that it should be Orpheus' job to deal with his family. So she just dismissively waved her hand across her stomach and replied; "Yeah, I know. It's crazier than ever." She looked at Orpheus.

He was surprised at the parental rejection, recovered and implored; "Mom! You don't understand. Eurydice has been thrown out of her house!"

Rather than repeating herself or saying anything of substance, Mom preferred to get off the main point onto a useless informational tangent. She turned to Eurydice and with a face dripping of pity and concern said; "Thrown out of your house? What happened? This can't be a permanent state of affairs. They'll change their minds."

Eurydice decided that continuing this tedious conversation would be of no use and flatly answered; "Yes. I was told to leave. Yes, it can. No, they won't."

Eurydice saw Mom's fluttering eyelashes and thought that her response may have been considered surly. In an attempt to correct this, she continued; "Their business is awful. So is yours, right?"

Mom said; "Worse than we could ever have imagined." She pointed at Orpheus and added; "His father is in the backyard taking another survey of the un-moving iron pile and his pots sit in the barn or at roadside attracting no buyers."

Eurydice shrugged and said; "That's basically why I'm here. Same garbage all over. It's perversely humorous to think that Orpheus and I are fouling up everyone's life."

Mom said; "Oh, don't ever think that. It's the church and school, themselves. It's the race riots. It's the attitudes of people, considering the situations they are not prepared for. You two are merely the crystallization of all of that, right in front of their eyes and burned into their brains."

Eurydice thought it was fruitless and unproductive to point out the contradiction of blaming other people, thereby exonerating one's self by implication and then acting the same way the others act, thinking they're fooling someone voicing platitudes. Maybe they need to fool themselves.

Orpheus had the lifelong experience of hearing this tap dance. Once his mother got into her modus operandi he knew it was useless to continue pursuit. To do so would only result in him being judged as rude. Still, Orpheus thought that his Mom was one of the best, so he learned to sigh and merely back off. The years had given him no clue whether her game was a willful subterfuge designed to avoid helping or a sincere concern coupled with a subliminal need to continue to see herself as a good person. He knew that people are often successful at fooling themselves.

Eurydice stood up and cordially said; "You are a good woman and you don't need any more troubles." She tweaked Orpheus' ear and said; "Come on. We've got to go get a place to live." He followed her out of the house, smiling and waving "Bye" to Mom. He turned back in Eurydice's direction and for the first time noticed that her light blue dress was stuck in a crevice, exposing strong black legs to the upper thigh. He soon forgot about the worries of the day and chose to walk behind her as long as possible.

"Come on up here, baby," she said, extending her hand. "We've got serious business to talk about."

He took her hand, stepped up alongside her and said; "If you want to be taken seriously, fix the back of your dress."

She looked behind her and got the general idea, laughed and said; "Fix it for me."

Orpheus gently did as he was told, pulling the hem down and taking his time to smooth out the wrinkles.

She said; "That's good enough." He kept smoothing, slowly feeling the curves beneath. She raised her voice; "Good enough. Pay attention for a minute. Do you have any kind of income or cash?"

"Almost nothing."

"Then somebody's going to have to get a job."

He had a feeling he was that somebody, but didn't really want the honor. He offered; "I think we'd be better off if I keep making these pots and ride out the temporary slump. People like them. Most people already have one or two in their houses."

"Maybe that's the problem."

"I'm getting better at it. I can now offer them a new improved version."

"Couldn't you do that part time?"

"I guess I could. But what kind of job can I get? The only other thing I know how to do is make nails and my father's not hiring."

She looked in his eyes and found them to be sincere. She said; "Okay, I can probably find some kind of job in town."

"No, don't. This can be our honeymoon."

She raised her voice, but smiled when she said; "Yeah, if we live outside and it's damn cold."

He had no solution for the weather, so he said; "Where are we going, anyway?"

She laughed, thinking of a number of possible funny answers, finally settling on; "The home of the freaks."

He looked at her curiously and she continued; "We're going to Lettie's. She knows everybody around here and maybe she knows a little house we can rent."

The sun was setting behind them and they became aware of their long thin shadows. They made odd movements and writhed around to see if they could do something the shadows couldn't follow, but the longer companions were well up to the challenge, often able to exaggerate the contortions of the little people.

There were no signs of life or lights at Lettie's. Even so they knocked at the door. No one answered, so they knocked again and heard Malcolm slur; "What the hell does anybody want from me?"

She said; "We want to see Lettie for a while."

Malcolm made a derisive laugh and said; "Me, too." After a few seconds of silence he opened the door widely, only wearing shorts. He looked the couple over and then rested his eyes somewhere in the middle of Eurydice's body and said; "If you put on a few pounds you could be a suitable replacement. Don't you know that black is better?"

Eurydice emphasized each word when she said; "Where is Lettie?"

"She took the kids to her sisters' in Vineland." He again looked her up and down and said; "The darker the berry, the sweeter the juice."

Orpheus put his left hand around Malcolm's neck and said; "One more answer like that and I'll knock all the juice, sweet or not, out of you."

Malcolm reeled away, obviously drunk, laughed and said; "Okay, okay. Let's start from the very beginning. What the hell does anybody want from me?"

Eurydice said; "Do you know of any houses for rent?"

"I know something for rent. I don't know if I'd call it a house. It's been empty a long time and people say it's haunted." He raised both hands over his head, wiggled his fingers, opened his eyes as wide as possible and broke into another laugh, this time bent over at the waist.

Neither was amused and Eurydice coldly said; "Where is it and who owns it?"

Malcolm said; "Don't you ever joke? Don't you ever play? Shit, you get right to business."

After a few more exchanges Malcolm considered playful, he must have felt assuaged and the couple learned the address and the owner's name. Orpheus closed the door as Malcolm attempted some kind of dance. Orpheus saw the last vestiges of sunlight disappearing below the horizon and said; "We're going to have to put this off until tomorrow. That address is in the east, but is well off the beaten path. We'll have to go through the woods to get there."

He walked her back to her house, kissed her lips and said; "We'll get through this, honeypot. You have my word."

She blinked her tired eyes at him, smiled and went inside. On the way back home, he tried to think of other ways and other areas in which he might sell his pots. He realized that he should have been thinking about this previously. He forgave himself for the lapse, when he pictured Eurydice in his mind. He didn't have any control over his obsession. Tonight was not the right time and both of them were tired. Still, in his head, he couldn't stop seeing what was beneath her clinging dress.

### Chapter 8- A Place of Their Own and Covert War Preparation

The next day's journey took Orpheus and Eurydice as far east as they had ever been in Sudbury. There were no trails and they just kept moving toward the morning's rising sun. They saw that it would soon pass behind some threatening dark gray clouds, hanging low, seemingly anxious to cast a pallor over everything. They realized that they should have prepared better, as something told them they were in a place where no one wants to be lost, sans a gun. As a minor consideration they realized that they should have brought hats and heavier jackets to potentially cover the identical blue jeans and short sleeved, white, button-up shirts they wore, devoid of additional support. It was simply too cool to be wet.

While they had been in and enjoyed the forest before, they were never in one quite like this. The tallest trees were only about twenty feet and the bark was peeling off most. Others lay flat and dead on the soft ground, their small root systems lifted out of the ground during previous high winds. The difficulty they had walking, coupled with not being sure of their destination and the decaying beauty, made them think that something was going to jump out at them any moment. Aazaziel came to both minds and Death entered his. Company was not desired. The sun worked its way west and hid behind the foreboding obstacles. A maniacal blackbird shrieked and flew closer to them than was comfortable. They jumped and looked at each other. He took her hand and started a song she recognized. Soon they were laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing and were singing; "Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go."

There were few houses in the area and those that did exist were sheltered behind stockade fences. They knew they were in the right general area when they passed a padlocked sturdy wooden gate, sporting a red lettered sign which said; "MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS."

Orpheus batted his lashes, opened his eyes wide and said; "My kind of people. I think I'll like living here."

Eurydice said; "Promising."

They came upon another fortress with a sun-bleached and weathered sign saying; "FOR RENT." When they opened the unlocked gate they were surprised to see that the grounds looked exactly like the outside; scraggly trees and lots of leaves. He thought to himself; "Great. Natural. No maintenance." As they approached the structure sitting in the middle of the lot, their first impression was that this two room shack looked like somebody, not very talented, built it himself. The intended white clapboard was turning green from mold and the planks were placed in a haphazard irregular pattern no professional builder would use. The two front windows were simple batten wooden shutters on leather hinges, one set wide open.

The similarly fashioned unstained front door withstood three hard knocks. When no answer came they looked in the open window and saw a white woman of about 50 with a medium length mixture of black and aggressive gray sitting on her head. Her ass was on the floor surrounded by newspapers and books.

Eurydice knocked on the shutter and said; "Excuse me." The thin woman turned her head to the sound. She lilted; "Oh great, company."

Eurydice said; "Is this place for rent?"

The old lady said; "Since creation, I think. I'm the owner, Sybil Norn. Meet me at the door."

The door opened and the couple saw a sparsely decorated kitchen, with a floor to ceiling brick cooking fireplace and walls lined with full bookcases. They seemed to have been constructed with unstained graying planks of walnut, rabbited together. Sybil led them to a round oak kitchen table which stood on four spindled thin legs. The three simultaneously sat on three armless wooden chairs painted a deep blue, each with two wide horizontal splats. Their only companion was a twin.

He said; "I'm Orpheus Christopher and this is Eurydice Paul -- I mean, Christopher."

Eurydice said; "It takes some getting used to. We just got married."

Sybil smiled and said; "You don't have to tell me your story. I already know it. The books you see all around you are classics; Greek and Roman mythology, philosophy, religion, love, war and whatever else comes between. I don't understand why anyone continues to write books. If they didn't hear it the first time through, they won't hear it the second, third, fourth, fifth or sixth time, either."

The duo looked at each other, neither sure of what they just heard or what to reply. Eurydice finally said; "We don't plan on writing any. We have too many other important things to attend to."

Orpheus said; "One of which is to find some place to live. I like what I've seen. Can we rent this or are you living here now?"

Sybil replied; "Sure, you can. I live in Boston and just come here when things get too crazy. The solitude, privacy and books restore me to some semblance of normality."

Eurydice said; "What's the rent?"

Sybil smiled and said; "You can have it for free. I'll be coming back a few times a year and you'll have to accommodate me when I do."

Eurydice said; "Sounds good to me."

Orpheus chimed in; "Me, too. Tell me, what were you reading when we got here?"

Sybil said; "I was looking at books on religion. I'm thinking of putting them in the fireplace. They all speak of a good God or Cosmos, its infinite wisdom and fair judgment. BULLSHIT! They must have been written by utopian hermit monks."

Eurydice misunderstood and thought of church operations when she said; "They fail to notice the hypocrisy, don't they?"

Sybil answered; "The hypocrisy is something provided by mankind. I just think that if there is a god, he, she, or both did a lousy job. I would not have created a world of hate, war, disease and death. I think he, she, or both should go back to the drawing board and not subject living things to a cruel experiment."

Eurydice laughed and said; "I think men invented hate and war themselves." Orpheus shot her a surprised look she didn't see, but expected. Her eyes were fixed on Sybil.

Sybil answered; "I grant that, though I would add that at times hands and feet are bound with invisible chains. I can't understand a good, all knowing entity resorting to death and disease though."

Orpheus found the thoughts mentally stimulating and wanted to enter the conversation, but didn't have any idea what to say. He felt safer asking a question than attempting to postulate anything and queried; "So what should he do about it now?"

Sybil said; "I see you used the word 'he', so I'll answer in your parlance. He should go back to the drawing board and work on the problem until he gets it right. In the meantime, since 'he' won't do it himself, men will do to the earth what I'm going to do with these stupid religion books." She got up, retrieved the books she had laying on the floor and threw them into the flames.

Orpheus thought that Sybil was a bit odd and gauchely said; "Were you ever married?"

Sybil, kindly regarded the comment as an innocent, uncouth faux pas, made a derisive laugh and said; "For a while, a long time ago."

Silence prevailed for a minute, broken by Sybil's voice uttering; "It's very private here. I can see just looking at you two that you're going to need all the privacy you can get."

With a lilt in his voice, which indicated his interest, rather than the sound of a probing question, he said; "How do you know so much?"

Sybil said; "Good books concerning mythology and solitude do wonders and I've already told you that I know your story. Do you think you are the first Orpheus and Eurydice?"

He shrugged and said; "They aren't names you hear every day. But, this isn't the first time we've heard something similar. What's the story?"

Sybil looked at Orpheus and casually said; "Same old story. Its better you don't know of the tragedy." She then turned to Eurydice, laughed and said; "You're going to have to teach this boy plenty."

Eurydice, again misunderstanding, though recalling what Lettie had said, made her commentary from another direction and said; "I've already started. He's a pretty good student."

Orpheus laughed and pinched Eurydice's thigh.

Sybil said; "Well, I'm going to be on my way now. It looks like you'll be fine. I've got to get back to Boston and pretend that what everyone tells me is new and interesting."

Eurydice said; "What do you do for a living?"

Sybil said; "I'm a nun."

They all had their best laugh of the day and Sybil walked out in her frilly white frock and closed the door behind her.

Orpheus got up and took a closer look at the volumes of information lining the walls. He remembered something of significance, opened the front door and saw Sybil walking slowly over the terrain strewn with dead tree branches. He called out; "Sybil, is this place haunted?"

She said; "Only by me," and continued her careful pace under a sky devoid of light, now filled wall to wall with cuddly dark gray tumors.

He rejoined Eurydice inside and they both perused the collection of ancient wisdom and/or pretentious nonsense. They focused on the drawings of symbols, geometric patterns, numbers and beastly heads. He found that when he leaned on one of the bookcases it swiveled on a hinge and opened into another room. It was dark and tiny, but it had one window, a chest of drawers with a mirror above and a bed. He said; "Guess what I found."

Eurydice said; "You do have certain natural talents. I knew you could do it."

He hadn't had anything to drink for some time, so he licked his lips and said; "Ready for one more exploration?" and moved into the tiny dark room. Penultimate penance pronounced primary pastime.

Later that day, she said; "We're going to have to get a horse, primarily for my daily trips to town."

"Daily?"

"Yes, silly. I'm going to be getting some sort of job."

"No, don't. The hell with that. We've got free rent."

Eurydice said; "I'd like to be with you, too, baby boy. But, despite the free rent, we'll still have to buy other things, like food."

"How about a part time job? I know my pots will start selling again soon."

"We'll see how it goes. Maybe I can taper off in a while." They both laughed and sang as they walked south to town in defiance of the overhead malignancies.

Aazaziel was still fidgety over the calmness in Sudbury. The "race riot" got plenty of talk but no action. Today was a perfect day for him to appear as the darker the day, the better he looked. He popped in on his old friend Judge John Caprice, who lived in a large stone house on ten acres in the north. He chose a dignified outfit for this visit, probably a bit over the top, but appropriate under the circumstances.

He donned a gray suit with long tails, over a pink ruffled shirt. His white powdered wig improved his appearance as he stood on the black and white checkered floor in the center hall, scrutinizing a painting which hung in an elaborate gilt frame.

Aazaziel waited for the Judge to come down the curved, carpeted, spindled staircase. When he thought he could be clearly heard, he said; "Whoever painted this one sure had things right." It was a hunting scene, depicting well-dressed white riders with long coats and ruffled shirts, waiting for a black servant further down the field to release the foxes. Barking dogs were restrained by white attendants near the horses.

The portly Judge was disinterested in or unable to discuss the merits of his long owned work of art and said; "Aazaziel, what can I do for you today?"

"Judge Caprice, with all due respect, it's more a question of what you can do for you. If you haven't noticed, the natives are restless." He puffed his cigar.

"So?"

"So, whether you know it or not, you're paid to keep the peace here. The pot is simmering. Get the point?"

Caprice laughed but also recognized the seriousness of the situation and half-jokingly said; "So how do I turn down the flame?"

"Finally, a good question. You turn it down by turning it up." Openly proud of himself, Aazaziel paused and waited for a reaction to his ironic brilliance. When none came, he continued; "I have a business associate in town named Roscoe, who is on the verge of burning down the church and school, anyway. If someone offers him money to do it, he's over the edge and it's a done deal."

Caprice was still pondering the seeming contradiction of "turning down" by "turning up" and eventually replied; "I don't understand what you're saying. Do you think I'm going to have any involvement with arson?"

Aazaziel derisively said; "I can see why you're a judge. Your lack of artistic capability is only exceeded by your fantastic grasp of what is made obvious." Caprice knew that Aazaziel intended to be insulting, but his commentary was taken as a compliment. After a short silence, Aazaziel continued; "Look, Ace, let me spell it out in a way even you can't misunderstand. The entirety of Sudbury's white population is extremely unhappy with the black church and more so the black school, in their part of town. The daily parade of black faces and the riot constantly remind them of the situation. And guess who they blame? Elected government officials. And, who is the next government official up for re-election?"

The judge made a weary nod, recalling his imminent, ridiculous requirement to suffer the ballot boxes.

Aazaziel continued his spiel; "So, my esteemed arbiter, it is in your interest to eradicate the problem. You'll be happy and so will white Sudbury. A nice state of affairs, no? I'm telling you this Roscoe voodoo man is on the verge of torching it anyway. He just needs a little more incentive." Aazaziel knew that Roscoe was a herbsman, not a voodoo man, but thought that Caprice would not be aware of the difference and that the latter term was more clearly an indication of Roscoe's craziness, which he wanted to imply.

The judge was impressed with the testimony and summation, so he got right to the point and said; "How do I get a hold of him?"

Aazaziel was successful in hiding his sigh of relief and calmly said; "I'll send him here. Be prepared, he's a bit opinionated, but he's a good, trustworthy guy. Sometimes he gets vexed and starts ranting some religious, mythological and philosophical stuff. If that happens, just let him talk himself out and then he'll calm back down. Oh, hey, if you haven't deduced it already, he's black."

Caprice said; "Perfect."

As Aazaziel left he thought; "I wish they were all that easy."

Just after sunrise the following day Roscoe coolly sauntered up to Caprice's door, his wrinkled thin body covered only by a dirty white tee shirt and black shorts. The judge saw him there, came outside, put his arm on Roscoe's shoulder and led him away from the house. This procedure was followed as just in case Roscoe got excited over something, it would not be in the house, with expensive things lying around. The judge was compelled to explain the need for an outdoor discussion by saying his wife was busy throwing a fit. Roscoe knew the game, didn't care and felt confident that Caprice needed him to do something he couldn't handle himself.

Negotiation was negligible, as, one might say there was a true meeting of the minds, mind, or lack thereof. Both parties were happy with the deal made on Caprice's lawn. When details were concluded Roscoe felt very powerful as he had gotten $400 for doing something he might have done for nothing, half now and half after the deed, He thought; "Thank you, Aazaziel, my good, good friend," and went back home.

### Chapter 9- Bucket Crabs and Disillusionment

The next day Eurydice met Orpheus at his parent's house early, carrying some clothes in a burlap bag. He was waiting at the door in anticipation, with his own satchel and came out when he saw her coming. She increased her speed, dropped her bag and threw out her arms. She said; "I've got the greatest news, baby." They shared the briefest kiss and she excitedly added; "I got a job at the bakery in town. I can start tomorrow."

He said; "Ooooh you. Do you have to be so good at everything?" He took her hand and added; "Well, let's go. We still have today." They felt the cool morning air, but were confident that the sun leisurely reclining in a cloudless sky would soon warm things up. In the meantime they walked quickly holding hands. The river straddling bridge was crossed and they followed the dirt path east as far as they possibly could, with the new sun in their faces. They had to continue on with no clear route other than the trampling of the currently invisible deer. The two aimed directly at the steadily rising sun, both hoping that they didn't have any nuns or ghosts waiting at their destination. They spent the day playing a preponderance of properly prescribed Pan-like pulsations, prolonging profligate pastiness.

After Eurydice left for work the next morning, D greeted the still reclining Orpheus, with a face that would stop the unwanted clock Aazaziel had given him in a possible dream. She said; "What the hell do you think you're doing?" as she showed him the three inch black nails on her right hand.

"Whoah, baby," he said, getting into a sitting position.

"This is too much. Now, you're going to be living with her. I suppose that next she can watch our morning visits, too."

"Sounds like kinky fun, but I don't think any of us are ready for that yet. Besides, there haven't been many of those morning brunches lately."

"I've been working my tail off. I'm behind." She smiled and added; "I suppose I should put my ass in there somewhere." She slapped her left hand on the butt covered by the shortest of tight black skirts.

He tiredly shrugged and said; "That's going to be a common refrain around here. Busy, busy, busy. Come on over here. She's going to be gone all day, six days a week anyway. Sometimes forces beyond your control take over. You know that."

Her face softened and she came to the head of the bed and he kissed her left hand, reminiscent of a knight on one knee with his queen. He said; "Just be careful with those nails." She playfully, purposefully and perilously placed petting producers of prestidigitation around his neck, laughing out loud.

When D recused herself, Orpheus said; "Oh, great. Now I'll have to make stupid pots all day."

She said; "Oh, you have to be a good boy. If you are I'll come back." She caressed her inner thighs, blew him a kiss and vanished.

After going about her usual routine for the next half hour, a foul mood started to make incursions into Death's head. After an hour it occupied the place.

Roscoe now had more money than he could remember having at one time, with another $200 due after the deed was done. He decided to wait for a dry Saturday; dry to enhance the burning and Saturday so that no people would be inside. He took a few trips there and surveyed the layout. His wizened face became an oddity and an attraction at the places of learning and religion. When kids started to point at him and watch him walk slowly around he knew it was time to end his surveillance. He got a good enough picture to see that there wouldn't be any resistance.

Elvira got a view of him walking home on Thursday afternoon and thought that he was probably returning from one of his sacramental deliveries and called out; "Who you blessing today, Roscoe?"

He looked toward her house and saw her standing in front of it, hands on hips and he called back; "Be happy it ain't you. You look like you have enough to do all day fixing your face."

"You one the rudest heathens I ever met." Referring to the lines the bald black man had on his face, she said; "And you could try to fix your face all day and night, too and you'll still have all those deep pits."

He never broke stride and cheerfully said; "See ya real soon, girl."

Eurydice spent the morning learning how to bake from her initial employer, Cornelius Jefferson, known as "June Boy." As he had been sampling his own wares for a few decades, he carried about three hundred pounds with him. He seemed a rather jolly guy and was one of the most successful black businessmen around. He was not married or involved with anyone in particular.

She was to bake early every morning and help June Boy behind the counter the rest of the day. They worked in a small area and she noticed that it was difficult not to make contact with the elephant which seemed to be familiarly brushing by her regularly. At first he said a smiling; "Excuse me," but soon settled into a grin, he probably thought inviting.

Business picked up right away, as many black women wanted to get a close up look at the notorious rich newcomer. Two non-church going black women with a self-serving convenient disdain for education named Cheryl and Corrine entered and wanted to have some fun with the outsider now at their disposal.

Eurydice politely said; "May I help you?"

Cheryl looked her up and down and said; "Aren't you the preacher's daughter?"

Eurydice made a slight shrug and simply said; "Yes."

Corrine's huge "jovial" body shook closer and her distended lips were able to articulate their attempted humor; "Well, I guess you're qualified to show me some of those buns over there." She, Cheryl and June Boy actually chuckled, not necessarily at the wit, but at the intended recipient.

Eurydice went near the items, again making contact with June Boy, who showed no interest in the potential transaction. She pointed and said; "These?"

Cheryl looked at Corrine and said; "She sure is a smart girl." She looked at Eurydice again and said; "Bring them over here. We don't have all day."

Eurydice carried the pan over to the two customers and slipped when she tried to navigate her way around June Boy. She managed not to drop the buns and placed them on the counter in front of Cheryl.

Cheryl touched one and in a mock discerning way said; "Are they fresh?"

Eurydice was now sure of their intent and flatly said; "I made them this morning."

Cheryl continued her "superior" posture and admonished; "A simple yes or no will do."

Eurydice hoped June Boy would see the bullshit going on and step in. She turned in his direction and saw his glazed eyes staring at her legs. She felt that she needed this job, so she merely responded; "Yes."

Corrine said; "Good girl." She sniffed at the buns, laughed and added; "Smells like you go heavy on the white flour." Corrine, Cheryl and June Boy smirked at the pointed observation.

Eurydice impassively said; "Would you like to try something else?"

Corrine pointed with a finger attached to one of her jello arms and loudly instructed; "Yeah, bring us that pie over there."

Eurydice did as she was told and brought over the indicated cream pie.

Cheryl looked at the pie disdainfully and said; "Did you touch it."

Eurydice's patience was exhausted, as she was certain of what was going on, but still decided to remain polite, as she needed the job. She wished useless June Boy would say something. She chose to reply in her protagonist's poorly veiled, headless entendre de duo style and disdainfully said; "A few times when I put the cream on top."

Not quite fathoming the commentary, Cheryl and Corrine looked at each other with disgust and Cheryl said; "Well, get it away from me then. Get me something with chocolate that you haven't gotten your hands all over."

Eurydice brought over some brownies to the apparent delight of the two.

Cheryl said; "I'll take six of these."

Corrine chimed in; "And four for me."

Eurydice grabbed a napkin, intending to bundle the goodies, but Cheryl said; "Wait there, girl. June Boy, will you wrap them for us? I don't want any white rubbing off on my brownies."

June Boy brushed by Eurydice, slipped a little and "accidentally" put his hand under her dress. He wrapped and gave the brownies to Cheryl and Corrine.

As they were exiting Cheryl said; "June Boy, you've got to teach this educated religious girl to keep her hands off the white stuff."

June Boy lasciviously put his hand on his pants, smiled and said; "I'm just the man for the job."

The rest of Eurydice's long day contained only a few other encounters as unpleasant as the first. When she was getting ready to leave, she said; "I'll see you early tomorrow, June Boy."

June Boy said; "You can see me right now. I'll teach you how to work with the dark stuff."

She just kept going. As she walked home she considered her options. She didn't envision many. Either she or Orpheus had to have an income. So, if it was to be her, she may as well try to tolerate this job, as any other would probably put her in the company of similar garbage. With the struggling local economic situation, she lacked a plethora of potential employers. Ideally, Orpheus will make money from his pots. She liked them and previously, everyone in town had use for one or two. But, at some point, he would have to get realistic and do something else if they didn't sell. If he worked in the bakery at least he wouldn't get touched all day by June Boy. She laughed when she thought that maybe he would and visualized the pathetic unsightly incident.

She got crankier as she headed east as the sun declined behind her. She thought; "I'm going to have to get that horse soon. The day is long enough, by itself. I don't want to cap it off with a protracted trek through no man's land." She couldn't help remembering the story she heard as a kid. She knew a guy with a dog who'd often go crabbing at the bay. He told her of a phenomenon he regularly witnessed. When there are two or more live crabs in a bucket, one will always climb up on the others and try to get out. What the others will invariably do is grab him by one of their big claws and pull him back down with them. He called it the "crab in the bucket syndrome" when he saw that the behavior was not unique to crabs.

When she was fully exhausted and disgusted she arrived home, passed by the front window and saw Orpheus in his knightly position in front of an older white woman who wore no skirt. She bolted to the door, flung it open and saw only Orpheus.

When D heard the door she said; "Dammit, what timing," and disappeared. Now, alone, she tried to compose herself but remained frustrated and mad as hell. As she got back into her job routine, her mindset didn't change and what she usually had done with mercy was carried out with a vengeance.

Eurydice forcefully said; "Where is she?"

Orpheus timidly and nervously said; "Who?"

Eurydice said; "Don't give me any crap. I think I've seen her before." She stomped through the small house taking inventory. She found nothing of interest and then looked out the windows.

She tersely said; "How many pots did you make today?"

"None."

"Then, what the hell have you been doing?"

He crawled over to where she was standing, put his hands behind her knees and said; "Thinking about your luscious chocolate fragrance."

Eurydice's tone remained stern when she said; "You have a couple of other senses, I hope." Orpheus felt relieved and rewarded. Prurient perturbed prominence persisted in a plebian procedure.

Later Death still remained absolutely livid. She decided that this was it. She'd been thinking about killing Eurydice long enough to have decided that there was really nothing Orpheus could do about it. He'd be inconsolable for a while, sure, but his only choices were either to be probably alone, or forgive her, by concluding that the passion of the moment was caused by uncontrollable love and all that stuff. Tomorrow morning, Saturday, Eurydice will have another unannounced visit when she leaves for work. In the meantime Death decided to see what progress the Tribunal had made in working out the details of under what conditions and how she might someday step down.

She returned to what she thought of as the "Bastion of Mindless Rules and Procedures," knocked twice and entered. The five decaying executives were sitting on their backless benches, this time appearing more like potentates than clowns. Their lined faces didn't sport any makeup and it looked as if they were sharing a joke, irregular and impossible as that might be. They didn't look her way. She walked straight to the middle man, last session's spokesman and said, "Excuse me for interrupting. Have you had a chance to look into my request?"

The middle man turned to her, smiled and said; "Oh, hi, Death. Don't you believe in making appointments? Just kidding, I'm glad to see you. We've been festive today. The matter was handled by the gentleman to my far left, so let me turn you over to Matthew." He gestured and she moved in front of her potential "liberator."

Matthew said; "Actually, we've had this wrapped up for a few weeks now. Law did an expeditious review and their interpretation was that after we pick your successor, which we've already accomplished, you're free to go, be completely mortal and subject to the Second Death."

"I request the right to perform three more executions, including my own. I guess that one is technically a killing or suicide, but whatever. And I do not find it acceptable to be under the whim of this Second Death."

Matthew shrugged his shoulders and said; "We can't do that. If you were not subject to the Second Death, you would be, in effect, granted both mortality and immortality. We don't have that kind of power."

Death thought for a brief moment. She didn't want to delay matters any more by requesting another ruling, so she ventured; "What if I agree to be subject to the Second Death, say, in one hundred years?"

Matthew squinted his eyes and said; "That sounds like a reasonable deal to me." He looked to his right and said; "Does anyone have any problems with that?"

He was greeted with the shakings of heads and the mutterings of "No."

He turned back to Death and said; "I guess we have an agreement. When do you want to retire?"

"One more thing. I want to be clear on this. I am the one still responsible for the deaths of Orpheus and Eurydice, which will be accomplished within one hundred years, before I become subject to the Second Death. There will be no early interventions by Number Two."

Matthew remained his affable self and said; "Sure, I thought that was understood." He again looked to his right and heard; "Fine.", "Sure.", "No problem." and "Yes."

Death said; "Thank you. I'd like to quit right now."

Matthew said; "Good, I'd like to wrap up matters, too. I'm going to bring in the Second Death and she'll follow you out."

Death had two thoughts. First, she was surprised that Death Two would be female. And, second, she had to stop referring to herself as Death. D would suffice until a better name was thought of.

Matthew brought in "Claire," and introduced the two. D scrutinized her. Her short bobbed hair was very blond and hid little of a round, pleasant face. She wore small earrings but no makeup save light lipstick. Her thirty year old body could be best described as average and was covered with an off-white dress, which hung below the knee. The strangest thing about her was her maniacal perennial smile. As they walked out of the room D said; "You're really going to like your new work, aren't you?" and got a quick and smiley "You betcha." While D considered her old job one of mercy, she understood Claire's reply to be indicative of a more brutal world and death to soon come. She momentarily considered changing her plans, but thought that the deal already struck was probably irreversible and more significantly, that she just didn't want to do it anymore. She had served her time and more and now had new feelings she wanted to explore. She realized the degree of selfishness involved, but justified it to herself with the thought; "Since time began I have done my unrequested job as well as I knew how and now it's up to others to do their part. I'm not god. Let him or her worry about it."

"I'm serious, Orpheus. Don't play." Eurydice had her back to him putting " _The Republic"_ back in its right place on the shelves. "I can't keep doing this type of work forever. You're going to have to kick in somewhere. I've been thinking. The only reason people pay a few cents more to buy your pots is because of those little drawings you do on them. The pots themselves are no different from anyone else's. So, why don't you just do little drawings and see if you can sell them? You can turn out a lot of them and if in six months' time they don't sell, it's off to the bakery, or some such place."

Orpheus grimaced at the thought of trudging off to a bakery daily and said; "That's a lot to think about."

Eurydice placed her hands on her hips and said; "I'm not kidding with you, honey lover. I have the right to feel supported."

Orpheus saw the opportunity to assuage her, considered six months a reasonable amount of time, as he remembered her originally saying and interjected; "You didn't let me finish. It's a lot to think about, but it sounds good right now. I love you, baby and in six months' time if I can't do anything else, I'll get a job at the livery, cleaning up after the horses, if need be, to take care of you."

They hugged. His mind wandered off and he said; "What other places, besides pots, should I draw and paint on?"

She just looked at him with knowing eyes. Partial to participation with his protagonist's pileous partition, the pantophagist pantingly pastured on his provider of plenty.

### Chapter 10- War, His Odyssey and the Big Lie

Eurydice left Orpheus sleeping in bed the following morning. She walked out into the cool pre-dawn moonlight. Though her destination was to be south, her attention was taken by a light coming from the west. Then she heard the wheels coming from her left. Much too late she tried to move out of the way, but D's horseless black carriage was only two feet away. For less than a second, she saw the driver and she looked vaguely familiar. She saw the whip in Death One's gloved left hand and then it was over.

The wooden wheels of the carriage were so loud in the otherwise morning calm that Orpheus woke up and went to the window. He saw the carriage going through the open gate and Eurydice face up on the ground. He ran to her. He tried to pull her arm to see if there was any sign of life. He waited a few seconds, on his knees with his left leg between hers, rubbing her stomach hoping that she was just knocked out. Then the thick bright red blood came out of the side of her mouth. He knew. He lay down, half on top of her with his arm around her stomach and licked the blood from her face. She disappeared. He remained face down on the ground, punching it with both hands above his head, crying; "Why, why, why, why, why, why?"

He heard; "Because, because, because, because, because, because."

The flames were now fifty feet above the treetops with the school and church totally engulfed by the time the fire wagons arrived. The drivers just stood there watching the preacher and his wife scurrying about, sweating in the cool morning. Since there was no breeze and there were no trees to burn near the structures, the firefighters felt that they didn't have any other choice than to watch it burn itself out. The buildings started to collapse; the school preceded by the church. Once the process started, it didn't take long to finish and then the firefighters wet down the perimeter. The chief yelled over the flames; "Was anybody inside?"

Ruth said; "No."

The chief followed up with; "Are you sure?"

Ruth stopped her scurrying and looked at him, finally saying; "No, how can I be sure?" wondering if the chief's job was to put out fires or to be an absurdly useless interrogator.

The Reverend was in no mood for nonsense and walked up to the chief and grabbed him by the shirt collar with both hands, temporarily lifting him off the ground and yelled in his face; "You come here to ask stupid questions? Take a look around yourself whenever you feel safe enough to."

Orpheus looked up to see Aazaziel. His sallow skin was covered with a white pancake makeup and what he had of hair was dyed red. His perennial cigarette was ensconced in a silver holder. "What do you think?" he said as he put forward a canvas he had behind his back. Orpheus stared. The book size painting had a light blue background, disturbed only by two horizontal parallel lines near the middle, which ended before the edge, the dark green over the black. Aazaziel looked at Orpheus' dazed face and speechless mouth and facetiously inquired; "Don't you like it? I'm into minimalism now. It's easy." Aazaziel again eyeballed the picture and said; "Oh, no wonder." He turned the painting around so that the horizontal lines became vertical. He said; "My apologies. There you go."

Orpheus stood up and said; "I ought to knock your teeth out."

"Relax, pal. I was just really excited about this one. Having a bad day, huh?"

Orpheus gasped.

Aazaziel said; "I know, I know. That's why I'm here. I can help you get her back."

Probably because of desperation, Orpheus paid attention. Aazaziel could see the interest in his prey's eyes and continued; "I know where she is being held. You're going to have to do your part, too, of course. It's up to you to get her out."

"Just show me where to go."

"See, I've been telling you all along, who's your buddy?"

"All right, all right. Thanks, thanks and thanks, buddy. Can we get going?" Orpheus still did not like or trust Aazaziel, but in his time of desperation no one else offered any help and even if they did, it probably wouldn't hold out the chance of getting his love back.

Aazaziel puffed away and calmly chided; "No need to rush. She's not going anywhere. She'll be there when you get there." He shook his head and snickered.

Orpheus was silent and agitated.

Aazaziel said; "Follow me." He led Orpheus out of the fenced property and into the woods. "Be quiet, now. I have to concentrate and watch for a certain spot." The sun had still not risen, making it difficult to see more than ten feet. The imitation mime stopped and stared at a thicket of trees that looked impassable. He said; "Let's try this one. There should be a drop off and then a path to what looks like a large one story ranch house. You'll know it when you see it. You'll have to enter at the east end and go through eight rooms. Eurydice is in the ninth. When you get there carry her out the same way you came."

They passed through thirty feet of thickly packed trees, zigzagging and tripping. Aazaziel said; "Okay, pal, this is as far as I go."

Orpheus looked at him silently and questioningly.

Aazaziel said; "Go through those two trees and you'll be there. I'm going to go see someone who knows a bit more about contemporary art." He disappeared.

Orpheus went through the opening and down a gradually dropping fifty foot hill. He found open land with a smattering of mature trees devoid of leaves. Orpheus followed the downward sloping dirt path into the unfenced valley with increasing ease as the sun appeared behind him and started to illuminate the area. The half-moon disappeared. He noticed that the grass was not mowed, extending two feet skyward.

Then he saw it. Aazaziel was right. This had to be the unmistakable "one story ranch." The structure was like none he had ever seen. The cut stone extended from top to bottom, giving it the appearance of being partially buried. The gently sloping red tile roof ran from front to back of the seemingly one room deep structure. He could see only two windows and they were in perpetual shadow because the roof was supported by reeded pillars stationed three feet away from the house, which resulted in a walkway around all sides. He climbed the steps of the stone porch, noting that at the top, piled uncut stone formed a formidable solid fence at his head's level. He considered hopping the six foot structure, knowing that he could, but he was also aware that he could be injured or surprise a sleeping lioness on the other side. He found a thin two foot tall opening near the center. He slowly put his head through it and seeing no lioness, crawled to the other side. On this, the eastern entrance, the roof was held up by five eight foot black and white marble statues of women he had not previously seen. Though each was different in appearance and age, the somber unsmiling face was a common feature, sitting on top of bodies covered only by a light sheer wrap around their stomachs, one long strand hanging to the floor, which covered the womb and part of one leg. He recalled that Aazaziel had told him to carry Eurydice out "the same way he came" and saw that this would be difficult, if not impossible through the small opening. He decided to worry about that later, as his first priority was to get to her.

The heavy dark, oddly five paneled door had a black iron decoration at eye level. It looked like an angry or hungry bird, with a curled tail twice as long as its body. Two overlapping circles covered the body, but the head and tail were free of restriction.

He tried the door and it opened inward, revealing a dark room illuminated only by a small skylight. The four plain wooden floor to ceiling square posts that supported the roof were anchored in a light gray concrete floor. In the middle was a three by four foot rectangular opening. Orpheus climbed the small step leading to the edge, peered in and saw nothing.

He heard; "I do that all the time." Orpheus looked up and saw a man sitting at a circular metal machine. As he turned the crank the wheel went around, producing paper money. He was surrounded by three foot stacks of hundred dollar bills. He said; "Come on over here. I'll show you something much more interesting." Orpheus didn't need two reasons to evacuate the opening to nowhere and slowly walked over to the seated sixty year old cheerful, well groomed caller.

Orpheus said; "You're right. I've seen nothing plenty of times already, but I've never seen so much money."

"I'm Victor Eshu and I can give you all you can carry out."

"That's very tempting, but I'm trying to get through here, not out."

"That's impressive. Most people turn back right here, Orpheus."

He wasn't surprised that his name was known, as he now expected surprises. Victor continued; "Do you have any idea of how much you can carry out of here? You could fill your pockets, hands and mouth."

Orpheus asked; "How long have you been here?"

"Since they invented the concept of money."

"That's a long time. Can't you take the money and leave?"

"Yes, I could. But I want more. Guys like you keep coming through and taking piles of it."

"Then why do you give it to them?"

"It's my job."

Orpheus reflected on the situation. Victor was imprisoned by his perennial need for "more" and it didn't look like much fun to be sitting here for eons turning a stupid wheel. So he said; "This isn't what I want. No matter how much I can take, I'll probably soon want more, much more and wind up cranking some stupid wheel for eternity. And if I die tomorrow, I can't take it with me."

The door on the far side swung open and slammed against the wall. Orpheus walked through it and saw a similar room, but with a window that was now shuttered. On the left side were ten totally naked women, ranging in age from fifteen to fifty and ranging in color from deep black to snow white, with graduations in between. They sat on deep purple upholstered sofas. One was a camel backed Chippendale version supported by four ball and claw foot legs in the front and four plain stands in the back. The cabriole knees exhibited sunburst carvings that looked nothing like what they imitated. The second was of the Sheraton school with a flat wood lined back rail and four thin reeded spindle legs. As thin as they appeared on top they gradually narrowed to the bottom, which ended in a gilded metal covering on wheels. It looked too delicate to be supporting the four seated women. Perhaps the plain, heavier back legs helped matters. The third was the popular style of the day; Empire. The arms were wooden scrolls first turning outward, then in and then out again. The back was capped with a carved severely curving piece of wood, one side coinciding with the scrolled arm. However, the back only covered two-thirds of the sofa, the open end culminating in a downward scroll. There were four sturdy legs styled as ending scrolls facing outward. Orpheus had a private chuckle as the current height of modern fashion looked like drawings he had seen in Sybil's books of Egyptian and Roman antiquities.

Regardless, what was even of more interest and amusement were the pieces of flesh currently touching the sofas. The variety was impressive and silent and watched him. He looked down the hole in the middle of the floor and thought he saw another hole beneath it. He walked toward the still quiet objects of pleasure. Natural feelings struck him, but then he remembered Eurydice.

He said; "Can any of you talk?"

A well-proportioned one hundred and eighty pound black woman sitting on the Chippendale couch, laughed and said; "The time for talk is over, baby." The other anti-sirens glanced at each other and started giggling.

He said; "I guess I'm old fashioned. I require at least a little conversation first."

The same woman made a sneering laugh and said; "What do you want to talk about with those big lips of yours?"

He took a long look at the unshaven spot between her legs. She saw his focus and spread out. It was tempting, but he thought of Eurydice. To keep conversation going until he found his way out of the room, he said; "I don't want to talk about anything. I want to talk to your hairy lips. Do I have to choose one or can I have all of you?"

"Whichever way you want it."

"Do you have any specialties?"

"If you can dream it, we can do it."

"Is ten all there is?"

The black woman got up, turned her back to him, put both knees back up on the couch and leaned forward, displaying the other side of the large untended garden. He briefly forgot about Eurydice and got down on his knees to get a better view of the jungle. She said; "Breakfast, lunch and dinner is served."

Maybe it was her blackness that reminded him of Eurydice. He stood back up and minimally varied his last question; "Is that all there is?"

She made a visible sigh, got her feet back on the floor and said; "Let's go, girls." They all got up and changed seats. When she got to her new position, on the left side of the empire couch, she changed into a thin, very young, shaven white girl. The others also went through their own transformations and it appeared that ten new people were in the room. She said; "And if I take the middle seat, I'll change again."

Orpheus asked; "Can I split into two and be with two of you at once?"

A fifty year old white woman, now sitting on the Sheraton couch, became the new spokeswoman, saying; "You can split into ten and have all of us at once if you like. Whatever you dream will be."

Orpheus assessed the situation and said; "Can I stay here for just a while and then leave?"

She said; "No. Once you start the fire you can't put it out."

He said; "I think you girls are great and I'd like to be with all of you, but I love Eurydice. So you're only reminders of what I truly desire. To me you're like mannequins. I'm after the real thing." The third door swung open and gently rested against the wall.

When he walked in, he took little notice of the room itself, as he saw ten guys sans clothing. Orpheus thought; "Finally, an easy one." The group was milling about, idly chatting and smiling at each other's jokes. Orpheus said; "I don't want to waste your time or mine. You guys should be content here with each other. I add nothing to your existence, just another useless number."

A sophisticated looking, thin white man, broke away from his talk group, appearing somewhat gracious, annoyed and flaccid. He said; "My, my, aren't you the presumptuous one. You're intruding on a very elite group."

Orpheus said; "I realize I'm in the wrong place, but someone put it in my path. I'm not looking for artifice. My destination is real art. If you can't understand that try this one; I'm interested in affection, not affectation." The fourth door slowly creaked open and as Orpheus walked toward it, Mr. Flaccid said; "Ciao."

He first noticed that this was the room with the second and last window. It was open to the light of the day, but without sun shining in. He stepped to the center pit and walked around the perimeter, to get a view from as many angles as possible. He thought; "There's got to be something down there. Maybe I've just missed it so far." Darkness was again the rule of the road, though he may have seen a light flash and then quickly vanish. He wasn't sure and he was still staring in an attempt to see it again, when he heard a female voice say; "Oh, please come over. We've been patiently waiting." She was about twenty-five years old, attractive, well groomed and made up impeccably. She was very well dressed, perhaps on her way to a ball. She put her arm under his and led him over to her companions.

The other four members of the group looked like they, too, were soon to be attendees at a regalia. Three men in tails, aged forty, forty-five and fifty, broke their conversation and smilingly looked in Orpheus' direction. The group was completed by a seventy year old proper looking white woman, whose movements could have been the result of being a bit tipsy or having a mild case of Parkinson's disease. Orpheus concluded that the former was the most likely case, when he saw the table held ten bottles of white wine and the half-full wineglasses held between the third and fourth fingers of each left hand.

The twenty-five year old woman unlocked arms and said; "Let me get you a drink, Orpheus. Do you have a favorite vintage?"

He looked at the table, disappointed at not seeing a red bottle and said; "Any 1776?"

She looked at each bottle and somewhat flustered she said; "Sorry, that's not in our repertoire. Let me choose for you."

A recalcitrant display of required bourgeois conviviality prompted Orpheus to affect a smile and say; "Fine, thank you."

She brought something back to him, which he also put between the third and fourth fingers of his left hand. Not accustomed to this digital dexterity, when Orpheus took his first sip he bowed his head to meet the glass. He immediately noticed ten eyes blinking and staring and five mouths partially open, momentarily gasping, at a loss for words.

Orpheus pretended not to notice and took a second sip, this time properly. The woman who got him the drink introduced herself as "Martha," and went on to point out; "Peter", "Cy", "Alan" and "Helen." Each raised their glasses to him and Orpheus returned the salutation.

Cy said; "We'd like to congratulate you."

Orpheus laughed and said; "Thanks, but for what?"

The five had their own small titter. Alan furrowed his brow and softly said; "Oh, come on now."

Orpheus responded; "Let me guess; for getting this far?" thinking in terms of his progress through the house.

Martha touched his hand and said; "Of course. We're your biggest fans."

Orpheus said; "I'd like you to know that it wasn't easy. The only breeze I had was number three."

The group thought that he was referring to some artistic progression or some money evolution.

Peter felt left out of the conversation, so intending to sound his calling card and also to get to the point before he got too drunk, he said; "We all truly love your work and think that we know how to better market the pots."

Alan said; "We can get it to a bigger distribution at better prices."

Orpheus now knew the game in this room, so mildly choosing to not play it, he spoke about where he had gotten inspiration, the evolving nature of his technique, what other pot makers he admired and then he was cut off.

Peter said; "That's all very interesting, but we have some other stops to make today. Permit me to be rude enough to get to the bottom line."

Orpheus said; "How menacingly blunt. But, please continue."

Peter did just that and without inflection said; "If you sign with us, we can guarantee you $500 up front."

Martha squeezed his hand. It got Orpheus' attention. When he looked at her she was smiling mischievously and said; "And you and I will have to work very closely together." She revolved the wineglass in her hand showing her own practiced digital dexterity and took another sip.

He realized the lie being perpetrated in this room was that their perception of him was based completely on his utility to them, a mere barter, intended to appeal to his stupid vanity. On a pragmatic basis he saw that he'd be soon become slave to a production schedule and though she looked fine to him, he also would be engaged in the "flattering" process of being encouraged by Martha. It seemed to him that she had more to gain by the temporary dalliance. Looking at it on a "worst case" basis this deal could result in an extremely short term relationship, ending when pot sales fizzle, in which case he'd probably wind up with an abundance of pots and an advance to repay. Additionally, encouraged by Eurydice, he wasn't sure that he should go on making them, preferring the idea of merely, somehow making the flowers. So he said; "I'm looking for reality, not the blessings of parasites."

The silent group appeared to be a combination of annoyed, hurt, surprised and disinterested, but the fifth door opened, however this time only the slightest bit. Perhaps, because of his recent consideration of pragmatism, Orpheus didn't swing it wide open. Rather, he peered through an ever widening crack to see five black, growling and salivating Dobermans, showing as many of their teeth as they could.

In the air two four foot black, white and yellow birds were circling in an agitated manner, maybe not accustomed to confinement or maybe hungry. The edges of their huge beaks glistened like razors. The three lions in the background scared him the most. They sat on their haunches perched on a foot high slab. When they roared it sounded as if it came from elsewhere, being so deep. Their long hairs' natural prettiness was of no interest to the kings of killers, as it lay on their heads matted and spiked.

Orpheus held the door six inches open and turned back to his would be benefactors, saying; "Pardon me if I overstay my welcome. This one looks like a place where only fools rush in."

The group was gathered around the table, looking at a map. It was of so much interest that they didn't even fully look up at him. Alan raised one hand in his direction absently waving and mumbling, "Fine, fine."

Orpheus took another peek into the room, trying to make sure he didn't miss anything the first time. He saw 100 inch long black and red ants crawling the floor, some fighting. Sitting on a tall black pedestal containing gold letters saying "CERBERUS", near the back door, was a three headed dog; a Chihuahua head on its right; a Dalmatian head on its left; and a German Shepherd head in the center. Orpheus guessed that this beast was the one in charge, as it did nothing, but calmly bark out commands.

The Chihuahua head said; "Take positions at the back door."

The Dalmatian head said; "Go to the front door and take him as soon as he comes in."

The German Shepherd head said; "Lions to the front; Dobermans to the back; everyone else in the center."

The beasts were confused, paid no attention to Orpheus, stopped in their tracks and looked at Cerberus for clarification.

It was now or never. Orpheus hoped he could take advantage of the disarray in the troops and make it twenty feet to the back door, praying like hell that he could push it open and that another group of killers wasn't waiting behind it. He didn't think the odds were greatly in his favor, but was consoled by recent events that death was not inevitably a permanent state of affairs and that, if necessary, D would probably come and save him.

He slammed the door open and bolted. He had taken three steps by the time anyone looked his way. They looked startled, excepting one Doberman, who apparently had not been paying attention to Cerberus. He got his teeth into Orpheus's leg just as Orpheus hit the back door, thanking the Lord that it opened. He wondered what to do with the very painful dog attached to his calf, but decided that the first priority was to shut the door behind him before anything else came through. When the door shut, the dog disappeared, but a fair amount of blood was flowing from a three inch bite. He looked around for his next nemesis.

Almost as disturbing as the dogs, he was sitting on a wooden pallet in the middle of the floor. It was an oriental man with long hair tied back, culminating in a pony tail that reached the floor. His beard was also uncut and reached his stomach. He was wearing a dirty blue outfit, matching shirt and pants, seemingly denim, had bare feet and was looking down at a large open book he held in his lap.

Orpheus nervously decided to venture a friendly opening and said; "Good book?"

Pony Tail impassively responded; "I've read better. The unknown author of this one seems to think that everything boils down to fate. He never uses the word, but there is a strong suggestion of predestination."

Considering the lack of control he had been experiencing recently, Orpheus thought that the book might have something going for it. He said; "You don't believe in predestination, I take it."

"I don't believe and I don't not believe. However, if predestination is the case, one doesn't have to write a six hundred page book about it, as it doesn't matter."

"Why?"

"If you have no effect on anything and no matter what you do, you get the same outcome; the logic suggests that you should do whatever you want all the time. What becomes of duty, honor, friendship, helping, love, achievement and all other aspects of life that the free-willers espouse?"

"Who are you and what do you know?"

"My name is Anansi and I know all the stories of life on earth."

"Do you know mine?"

"Up until now."

"Then you knew I'd get here!"

"Only when you did. You made a mistake in the last room, but it was relatively small and didn't do any harm. I can give you all the knowledge of the world. Stay here."

"What was my mistake?"

"Monsters are figments of your imagination. They only exist on the mental plane and therefore can only hurt you on the mental plane."

Orpheus said; "I guess you haven't gotten a good look at my leg." He picked up his pants leg to show a still bleeding bite wound.

Anansi had no response. Orpheus considered Anansi's worth and found nothing. He was already obviously wrong about the mental plane's power over physicality. Orpheus recalled reading one of Sybil Norn's books concerning two men with all the knowledge that existed. Unwashed and in tattered clothes, they sat on a garbage heap, saying profound things that the other did not understand. Orpheus also wondered how one could get knowledge from books alone. Experience must surely count for something. He saw the sign above the back door which said; "The road to hell is paved with best intentions." He said; "Anansi, how long were you out in the world?"

"I was born in this room and I will die here."

Orpheus put his right index finger to his wound and put it in Anansi's mouth and said; "Taste real blood." The seventh door swung open.

A long haired blonde girl of about ten was sitting on a swing holding on to the chains which supported it, which, at the other end were attached to ceiling. She was surrounded by a garden of blooming wildflowers. The room had a skylight and its rays hit some of them.

The little girl said; "I can give you eternal happiness."

Orpheus replied; "How can I possibly know happiness unless I also know sadness?" She silently continued to swing, as did the eighth door.

Orpheus saw a giant sitting on a red and gold throne, which straddled the abyss in the room's center. He had seven heads of different colors and seven iron horns emanating from the top of them. They looked a bit ridiculous, acting as a hat rack for seven crowns. As the crowns were larger than the horns, whenever a head moved, the crown rolled around making a silly rattling sound as it hit the iron. Orpheus was reminded of the game of "Horeshoes" and wondered if the crown moved enough, would it fall off. His body was that of a man, only much larger, making the seven heads appear comically small. When all seven mouths moved in unison, saying the same thing, it was like a resonating lion's voice.

It rumbled; "Come out now." A nude duplicate of Eurydice climbed out of the abyss and stood at the crowned seven's left hand. "I give you Eurydice, forever obedient to your every whim, forever sexually aroused." She looked at Orpheus provocatively, putting her left hand between her legs and her right in her mouth.

Orpheus was tired, bleeding and disinterested. He said; "A devil's creation cannot love. The creator cannot imbue the created with something he does not himself possess."

The multi-crowned seven roared like a wounded beast and the ninth door opened. Rather than swinging on a hinge, it split in the middle, the right half sliding to the right and the left half sliding to the left. The room had great visibility as a skylight covered the entire ceiling. Some clouds must have been gathering, because as good as it was the light was not perfect.

He saw Eurydice's black face and feet as they stood out. The rest of her was covered by a snow white shroud. She was motionlessly reclining on a three foot tall concrete slab. The floor was half covered with small pots, each containing one rose, of every possible color, including black and blue. Orpheus thought the prettiest ones were the reds and pinks at the base of the slab. He didn't see any opening in the floor, so when he walked slowly to her he only had to watch out for the pots and thorns on the flowers with five petals. She didn't move. He kissed her lips and picked her up, one arm in the middle of her back and the other under her thighs.

He could see straight through the house as all the doors were now open. He slightly limped from the supposedly nonexistent dog gouge in his left leg.

When he entered room eight, the seven headed giant, again in unison bellowed, "You'll be sorry. She will leave you." The giant laughed maniacally when Orpheus didn't look his way or comment.

In room seven the little blonde girl, gleefully gliding on the chained wooden slab, playfully asked; "Does she want to swing?"

Orpheus sarcastically replied; "Not right now. I'll ask her when she wakes up, but we all already know the answer."

In room six the oriental wise man on a pallet said; "Will she move?"

Orpheus thought a bit, not wanting to appear ignorant and finally said; "You say you know all the stories. Why ask me?"

In room five Cerberus was holding court, enjoying his follower's rapt attention. The three heads re-directed their prognostications to Orpheus. The Chihuahua head on the right said; "You can go. You just can't come." The Dalmatian head on the left said; "No, you can come, when you go as you please." The German Shepherd head in the center had a third take on the matter, saying; "No, no. You have already come and now you may go." Orpheus noted that none of them had any problem with his going and that's all he wanted to do. Any reply would only compound the confusion and waste his time. A voice out of nowhere echoed; "You can go now, but you will never leave."

Room four was vacated by the promoters, probably off to engage another person who may have created something. Orpheus was surprised to see that they had left some of their white wine behind. He was thirsty and needed a drink, so he put Eurydice on the table and poured himself a glass. He was glad to taste that it had turned to pure water and drank his fill. He again picked Eurydice up and entered room three.

One of the men turned away from the group conversation and in an apparent attempt to affect a look of disdain by furrowing his brows, succeeded only in completely closing one eye and derisively said; "Breeders." Refreshed, Orpheus chose to respond and said; "Nothing wrong with that unless we produce something like you."

The couple continued on into room two, where ten nude ladies were still sitting on the three couches. A voluptuous woman of about twenty, with long red hair stood up, put her right index finger on the top of her head and did a slow jiggling pirouette. She said; "Don't be stuck with one forever, baby." Orpheus stopped and looked. He then kissed Eurydice's belly and said; "She can be any of you any time she wants."

In room one, old Victor was too busy cranking the wheel to take any notice of him. Orpheus pulled open the heavy, dark, five paneled door to see the sun now in his face and beaming through a five foot high, two foot wide opening in the six foot stone fence. He continued with ease through the porch, down the steps and the two were covered with bright sunlight, as if it were a garment. There was no cooling breeze and he became overheated, in need of some refreshment. But, he thought; "I've come this far. I don't want to stop now." Limping more than before, he carried her uphill, through the field and found the opening in the trees. Turning slowly to navigate the thicket took time and his arms were getting weary, but he didn't want to put her down. When he successfully exited, he had a burst of mental energy, forgot his weariness and injury and took his love home.

When he got her there, he passed through the book lined main room and went into the smaller back room and placed her on the bed. He removed the shroud and she opened her eyes. They kissed.

"How sweet. My heart would be warm if I could find it. You've got to see this one." They both looked toward the door and saw Aazaziel, standing there in a black beret and clothes that looked like he'd been wearing them for weeks. He smiled, tilted his head to one side and took a two by three canvas from his pants. The heavily textured painting depicted a leafless tree standing on medium blue hilly land. The night sky was a deeper blue and contained fifteen yellow full moons, most stationary and two swirling, spilling their yellow into the blue.

Orpheus said; "Maybe I'm just in a good mood, but I like it. By the way, thanks for everything."

Eurydice smiled and nodded approval, pulling the shroud over her middle.

Aazaziel bowed from the waist and said; "I appreciate the review. This hat is pretty good, too. At the very least, it covers my balding head and makes me look younger."

Eurydice said; "Do you know who was driving that black carriage? She looked familiar to me." The question was directed to Aazaziel, but she looked at Orpheus, whose face went numb with unease.

Aazaziel saved him and said; "You should know. That was Death. She's very unpredictable. Before we get on too many tangents, I have something important to tell you." He paused and the two just looked at him. He continued; "Orpheus, you were in such a rush, that I never got a chance to give you the fine print on the deal. I apologize for not insisting at the time, but very few people manage to get through Hades and frankly, I didn't think you would."

Orpheus started to say something, but Aazaziel held up his left hand and cut him off, saying; "Please, let me finish. I also considered it irrelevant to tell you, because I know you'd have gone for Eurydice no matter what. Anyway, I'm really sorry, but if you look at Eurydice, she will disappear forever. You can take one more look now and that's it."

Both Orpheus and Eurydice opened their mouths to say something, but Aazaziel vaporized before any words came out.

Orpheus looked into Eurydice's eyes, which reflected back the helplessness of his own. She removed the blanket and he looked all over the beautiful blackness he loved so much. He looked at every part, trying to decide what he wanted his last vision to be. He touched her hand and then backed away a few feet, which enabled him to see the totality of her flesh. He turned away and retrieved a pink rag from the chest of drawers. He tied it around the top half of his head. He turned back to her and they discovered that he still had four of his senses when he reached out in the darkness. Personable passageways paused at penetrable places.

### Chapter 11- Adjustments

Later in the day his mind focused on serious matters and Orpheus said; "We're going to have to make some kind of plans. This is a huge problem and we probably will never be able to anticipate every possibility. At the very least, when you go to work tomorrow, get me a large black leather blindfold that can be put on very securely with at least three clasps. Secondly, whenever you are about to enter the house, yell out my name and don't open the door until I answer 'Mask on'."

Eurydice said; "I have another idea. Instead of you having to be masked whenever I'm around, I can have a hood with a veil added to this shroud and wear that, at least sometimes. You won't be looking at me; you'll be looking at my garments. You can't do your work with a blindfold on."

He considered that a while and said; "No, it's risky and I don't want to take ANY risk. Even if your clothes are not you, I might accidently see a hand or a foot, unless you wrapped up like a mummy, which is ridiculous."

"But, you still have to work, to make everything palatable for me. I don't plan on spending my whole life at that damn bakery. Six months is the most I can handle and I might not make that."

"I'll work whenever you're gone, maybe six months. Whenever you think you can't take it anymore, we'll try to formulate another plan."

"I might not last the week."

"Fine. Do your best. But, can we cross that bridge when we come to it? In the interim, things could change and more time will probably give us both more ideas." He held her.

"Okay, baby. I'll be yelling at the door, waiting for you to yell back."

"Don't worry about me. I've got some new avenues to pursue with my work and I've made a recent discovery. Touch may be more important than sight."

Eurydice said; "You look extremely silly with that pink rag on your head."

He extended his hands into the blackness. Participatory patronage prevailed placidly.

D was having a miserable day despite the auspicious pre-dawn beginning. She had to stop watching Orpheus and Eurydice and consider her options. A plethora of new ideas did not work their way into her head. Her only remaining source of sure power was her right to end her life and that of Orpheus, not exactly what she desired. She had already used her option of killing Eurydice and stupid Orpheus had to go and get her back. She might be able to do it a second time and even if she succeeded, Orpheus would no doubt do his act again and despise her even more than he did now. She realized that she may have inadvertently given the sweet black beauty immortality. Just great. How can a day that started with such hope turn to refuse, so quickly? If she couldn't kill Orpheus's love, the Tribunal had agreed that the Second Death \-- Claire, could not perform the act, at least not for another hundred years. This was all so confusing; she momentarily wished that she had kept her simple job. Is this something inherited by mortals?

She found what she thought was the key. Though Eurydice was the love of Orpheus's life, for reasons D would never understand, at least he was attracted to her white flesh and without a job D had all the time in the world to use it. If Eurydice forgave the dalliance in consideration of Orpheus's heroics, she could at least keep him from his pot making business and cause economic problems. She decided to pay him a visit tomorrow after Eurydice went to work. She contented herself the rest of the day and night absently gazing at the sky, seeing odd cloud formations and dissipations. Nothing lasted more than a few minutes.

Reverend and Ruth Paul sadly spent the rest of their day holding hands and also staring blankly. However, in their case it was at the charred remains of part of their dreams. They worried. The show was over and the audience had departed, leaving them in the absolute silence their god gave them as a birthright. They tried to think of what other gifts may have been imparted and drew at straws. The Reverend knew that the church financial powers couldn't be more delighted. The financially challenged enterprise's burning would completely solve their problems, as soon as the insurance check arrived. It seemed ironic that the clear winners did nothing to promote their largesse, merely sitting back, unaware of and unconcerned with the deeds of the day. He recalled his school days, studying Theology, when he read of the Sufis, who believe that the best thing one can do in this life is to sit under a tree writing poetry.

He was happy to have learned that no bodies were found in the ashes and he thought, ironically, that the absence of bodies in the church and school were precisely at the root cause of his worries, as if his church and school were a thriving financial enterprise, they would be rebuilt, instead of the authorities taking their money and running. For a few moments he thought that he was criticizing them for attitudes he shared, but he decided that he only shared them because he was well acquainted with the rules of the road, without having been invited to vote on their adoption. "What it is" is "what it is."

He, too, spent the night watching the sky, noting the random and continuous creation of clouds, the dark ones threatening rain. No water ever touched the ground and the clouds continuously passed out of existence, the space created making way to repeat the cycle. All the frenzied activity produced only momentary change, which quickly reverted to the old story. Something new was needed to break the "random sameness." He momentarily wondered if he should have ignored god's call to join the ministry, or maybe his mistake was that the call was for a different institution to minister. Or maybe he shouldn't have joined any institution, at all. Maybe Eurydice was the member of the family with the best brain and she chose to pay more attention to the call of the wild. He was yet unaware that his daughter's obsessions had taken a decidedly mercenary turn when she became responsible for running her own household.

Most significantly, what he was certain of, was that imminently he would be host to a financial Cardinal or Bishop and the best thing he could do was to be on his gracious, deferential best behavior and hope to salvage a decent new assignment.

The prevailing agent of discord, Roscoe, paid a triumphant midday call on Judge Caprice. His short-lived exuberance terminated when the front door opened and was greeted by another man pointing a rifle right at him. He heard the Judge's voice, emanating from the back of the entry hall, call out; "That's the one who's trying to shake me down."

Roscoe said; "Hey, hey, wait a minute." He pushed the gun barrel to the side and said; "Get that out of my face. I got business with the Judge."

The Judge replied; "You've got no legal business with me and if you keep bothering me, I'll have my boys take care of your business."

The rifle barrel was now in Roscoe's face and the holder said; "You trespassin', boy." His four similarly equipped associates found mild humor in the remark.

Roscoe saw that his military position was hopeless, so he tried a different tactic. He said; "Judge, I don't think you'd like it if a lot of people knew what kind of business you're really in."

The Judge said; "And you're going to be stupid enough to tell them, I suppose."

"Yeah, I just might be."

"Thereby admitting that you're an arsonist? You can do a lot of time for that. This is America, boy. You get hell for destroying property. And, I've got news for you, genius. If anyone believed your story, they'd consider me a hero and look the other way, right at you, an admitted black criminal. A lynch mob might have a night's fun."

Roscoe realized he had no position whatsoever and felt stupid for expecting justice. He contented himself with the fact that the up-front money he took was more than he would have asked to do the job. So, he turned to depart, but said; "Okay, Judge, you know I'm your boy, but you owe me one." The only sound he heard was the slam of the door as he left the property.

When he got back to his east side home, he lingered outside and listened to a number of conversations angrily saying, "You damn well know that the whites did this." He was surprised to see that blacks who wanted no part of the church or school were also angry, or at least playing the part.

The initial glee of the whites, happy to see an end to the daily black parade and riots in their neighborhood, quickly gave way to worry. They realized that the blacks would blame them for the deed and feared retribution. They, too, strongly thought that one of their own was responsible. Could they find a scapegoat and hope that would assuage the minority?

So, the day that started with a simmering, unsettled town, ended the same way, despite the grand schemes and heroics, though some of the players had switched roles. The winners played no part and spent their day and night without bothering to look at the sky. They had their answers right here on earth and were content to sit in their grand offices counting money.

### Chapter 12- The Devil's Day

Eurydice trudged off to the bakery the next morning and was greeted by a belligerent June Boy, unhappy with her taking "sick days" so early in her employment. She apologized and assuaged him as best she could and even verged on begging. She managed to conceal her distaste of the entire situation, concentrating on her hopefully short term need for her promised remuneration, at the same time hating it and him.

As she did all the baking, she was painfully aware of June Boy sitting in a corner staring at her legs. She knew she could change her circumstances by getting friendly, but decided against it as the circumstances likely to change would merely be her duties and result in noxious flesh contact. Becoming conscious of the continual eyeball onslaught she became nervous, annoyed and clumsy, at times dropping metal plates. She saw that June Boy's eyes got even brighter when she bent down to pick them up. This was a vicious cycle she had to break, so she tried to relax by thinking of Orpheus scantily clad, producing some new version of pot.

She survived the morning and moved its products to the counters in front and waited for customers with wary eyes. She cursed the powers of the universe for giving this cretin the ability to do exactly what Orpheus couldn't. This dumb, odious, fat slob knew how to run a business. She got the usual snide treatment from the first few customers, but already had a system with which to handle it. She didn't reply to any personal comments and only talked of the baked goods. This procedure had a degree of success and was similar to setting a clock to the most desired time and then stopping it. She thought of the time she would be with her un-businesslike savior, Orpheus.

The day's intrusive monotony was broken when Cheryl and Corrine entered the shop.

Cheryl smartly greeted her with; "How's your daddy, working girl?"

Eurydice stuck to her plan, but with an edge and drolly said; "What type of buns do you want to stick your face in today?"

Cheryl snickered, looked at Corrine and responded; "Dark ones, just like you."

Eurydice silently and unemotionally retrieved and placed on the counter those with the closest hue to her own.

Corrine said; "June Boy, can't you teach this girl any manners?"

June Boy shrugged.

Cheryl insisted on following her one train of thought and repeated; "I asked you; how's your daddy?"

Eurydice defiantly stared into Cheryl's eyes and calmly instructed; "Sniff my buns."

Corrine playfully stamped her feet and said; "Whew, I wouldn't take that from a white girl."

Cheryl had no "smart" response handy. She decided to take the issue to a higher power and said; "June Boy, if you can't teach this bitch to be polite, I'm taking my business elsewhere."

June Boy sternly said; "Eurydice. Answer the customer nicely."

Eurydice made one last effort to remain professional and uninvolved. She turned to June Boy and told him; "I didn't come here to discuss my family or anything else except baked goods."

June Boy sat still with his belly hanging over his abdomen, looking pregnant, obviously gazed at Eurydice's legs and ordered; "You came here to do what I tell you and I'm telling you to answer Cheryl."

Eurydice felt the day's first pangs of anger and came up with a way to follow the letter of the law, but not the spirit. She rolled her eyes, looking at Cheryl and said; "My daddy is fine. Have you found out who yours is yet?"

Corrine enjoyed the interchange and wanted to see more. She shook her head, looked at the floor and mouthed; "Whew, whew, whew." She laughed and said; "Cheryl, you got it down to ten possibilities last I heard."

Cheryl had to join the laughter herself and said; "Well, I'll tell you that if any of the ten had a fire yesterday, I'd be with them today. I guess educated bakery waitresses have different ideas about things."

Eurydice got the gist and changed her tone to a soft one; "What fire are you talking about?"

Cheryl detected another opportunity to insult Eurydice and said; "June Boy, don't she know nuthin? Didn't you tell her?"

June Boy extended his palms, again shrugged and said; "I thought she knew. Everybody else does."

Corrine flatly said; "This has got to be the dumbest girl who ever went to school."

Eurydice, nervously spoke to no one in particular; "My father had a fire?"

June Boy responded; "Yeah, some white guy torched the place."

Eurydice looked his way and asked; "Is everyone okay?"

June Boy said; "Yeah, I think so, but the church and school are gone."

Eurydice took off her apron and walked quickly to the door. June Boy called out; "Hey, you can't leave now."

Eurydice called back; "Give the job to Cheryl. Maybe she won't have an excuse to **** so many guys. One might be her daddy."

Heading northwest, she saw a lot of other black people on the path, going the same way, including Roscoe.

Roscoe was yelling; "Whitey did it. You know damn well. What do they think this is, Alabama?"

Calls of; "Let's get the *************" rang from many lips.

Eurydice worked her way through the crowd, speaking to no one and was relieved when she saw the house still standing untouched. James and Ruth Paul were sitting in the garden path with Betsy. Eurydice ran over, dropped to her knees, hugged her mother and started to cry.

Ruth said; "It's all right, baby. No one got hurt, at least not physically."

James said; "The damn tragedy is that in five minutes one idiot can destroy the work that thousands have taken years to accomplish."

Eurydice moved to her father, still crying and held him. "Don't get me all teary eyed," he said, not fully realizing that it was his commentary that prolonged and increased the raindrops.

Eurydice blubbered a bit more and chokingly told her father; "'New Testament' and all that 'turn the other cheek' crap aside, it ends with Revelation and some people would do all the others a favor if they were put out of their misery."

Betsy said; "If all the miserable ones were gone, there wouldn't be many left."

Eurydice completed her rounds and gave Betsy a hug. The bitter tears had dissipated and Eurydice said; "What are you going to do now?"

Betsy said; "Same old thing. I'll probably get a job with some rich family and be best friend to their little girl."

A crowd of black faces had congregated in front of and on the church property. The sight of the cold ashes inflamed them. Profanity, yelling, anger and tears were the order of the day. Roscoe remained in the group, but was no longer vocal. He thought that there was no further need to encourage the throng to do exactly what he wanted. He became a contented observer, but gave everyone the appearance that he was a wounded comrade.

Reverend Paul walked over to the angry mob and was greeted with a series of pats on the back and vows of solidarity. He climbed the charred remains of the statue of some now unrecognizable saint and said; "People, people. What you're doing now will do no good whatsoever. If anything, it just helps the forces of evil. So, I want you to go home. I want you to go home and pray."

A disconsolate Elvira was dissatisfied with the Reverend's instructions, thinking about her kids not having a chance at an education and she too sought a perch. She found what was left of the step, where people formerly kneeled to receive Communion. But instead of using her knees, she stood on it and said; "Pray to who? Someone who allows this to happen? And for what? He doesn't provide any justice. We have to get our own."

The Reverend understood her dilemma and made no reply, instead focusing his half shut eyes on the burned out, vacant cross. Elvira screamed; "The only way to fight fire is with fire." The invigorated crowd walked northwest, on toward the white school. Eurydice remained with her little family. The damage had already been done. Countless white eyes were witness to yet another "race riot".

D donned her most provocative outfit and popped in on Orpheus, now not wearing any blindfold. He was sitting by the library window in the sunlight, measuring and cutting three by three inch tin squares. At his side were ten small paint cans and two tiny brushes. He heard a chair leg scrape against the floor, turned and saw her sitting on it, shoes off and milky white legs open, covered only by a ten inch tight red skirt. The straps on her belly previously supported a matching blouse, but were now untied. Her eyes were made up to accentuate the roundness of the doe like baby blues. Her cruel thin lips appeared lush under the blood red lipstick.

He said; "You've got to be kidding."

She crossed her legs and fidgeted with her straps. She said; "You really know how to hurt a girl, don't you?"

Orpheus stood up, looked incredulously at her and loudly said; "You're a killer!"

She said; "You knew that from day one." She paused and then added; "I'm sorry. My love for you got the better of me. Besides, you brought her back. I promise I won't do it again."

Orpheus had to laugh at her last comment. His gaze softened as did his voice; "I don't know what to say. I'd like to kill you and I'd like to make you happy. Most of all I'd like you to go away and just let me experiment with my paints."

"Do you have any idea of what it's like to be feared and hated by everyone?"

He was really confused now. He felt for her, thinking of all the time she spent as a friendless outsider, but still wished that she would simplify his life and leave it. In a pleading tone, he said; "Why did you choose me?"

She sensed and welcomed the note of capitulation. She uncrossed her legs, looked up at him with big sad baby blues and plaintively said; "I don't know. I don't even think I had a real choice in the matter."

He thought he detected moisture in her right eye, was completely overcome, got on his knees and put his arms around her belly. Potent powers presided.

No painting experiments were carried out that day, at least not on tin. They spent the day laughing, caring, drinking and eating. D did masterwork with the utensils, numerous times, encouraging Orpheus to "have another slice of pie."

They lost track of time gorging themselves and were startled when they heard Eurydice at the door yelling; "Orpheus."

He mumbled; "Oh no," as he immediately thought that Eurydice might have seen D through the open window. He whispered; "Come on. Get out of here." D smiled, looked at the open window, pursed her red lips into a big kiss and vanished.

"Orpheus," Eurydice again yelled. "I know you're in there. What's going on?"

"I'm trying to find my mask. Hold on."

He found the pink rag and tied it around the top half of his head and yelled; "Mask on."

The door flew open and Eurydice briskly walked in and said; "What's going on in here?"

"I've been recuperating from yesterday. I ate a lot of pie and experimented with the paints."

She looked at the unopened cans and dry brushes on the floor and said; "I believe the pie part."

He looked away and she changed the subject, telling him about the fire and her complicated feelings for her father. While she thought that the last thing the world needed was another church, a new school fit her notion of progress. Maybe things come in package deals. Her father's preoccupation with money and rules was at least temporarily forgiven as she saw him as a good, kind and strong man whose years of work didn't deserve to be destroyed in one misbegotten dark morning. She felt sorry for him. While in the past a threatened cessation of his ministerial duties would have prompted her to respond; "Good, go get an honest job," now she didn't want to even think about the possibility that recent events would result in him having to suck up to bigger hypocrites.

Orpheus listened to her thoughts and concerns and paid perfect attention. He was interested and also sensed that he was on thin ice. He wished that he could again see her facial expressions, feeling that he was not getting the spirit of the message and was now confined to only words. He found her sorrow compelling. Though she spoke matter of factly about the whole thing, he was able to put himself in her place and saw that she was probably having the worst day of her life and felt guilty that, no doubt, his entry into her life was a major cause of it. Yet what could he do? He always believed that when people are in love that it was impossible for one to do something for the other without doing something for themselves at the same time, but now he was confronted with the reverse thought. Since he was innocently causing his love harm, would the best thing he could do for her be to leave? He didn't want to dwell on that thought and instead extended his arms, found her, held her and she gently sobbed. She was released from her stiff upper lip and the softness allowed the water to flow down.

When he could feel her body stop heaving, he said; "I guess you forgot all about my leather blindfold." She just looked at him and then realized that he couldn't see that, so she had to say something. She really was at a loss, feeling that any response she could think of would sound stupid. She finally said; "Tomorrow I'll get you a leather collection, all of my choice. Kiss my black feet." As he slowly dropped to the floor, he ran his hands all over the curves of the voluptuous body he loved so much, thinking about the mind he loved even more. Progressive patterns paid periodic perfumery.

That night Eurydice had a dream. She still was vaguely entertaining thoughts of the white woman she seemed unable to escape, possibly seeing her again today, but was too distraught about other things to have been paying full attention at the time. Now, in the tranquility of slumber she saw the white woman dressed in her provocative black leather uniform; a tube top and a short tight skirt bottom. Her face was rigid and un-smiling; her black hair tied straight back. She was looking down at a naked Orpheus, who had black leather chains on his hands and feet, which must have been attached to something she couldn't see, as he was squirming his hands and legs around to no avail. His grinning face betrayed his protestations and he articulated his hunger. Eurydice watched him beg for something to eat and then her point of view changed from six feet away at ground level to twenty feet in the air above the playful couple. She was shocked when the new view included her own naked black body in the same position as that of her lover and she was uttering the same words. The only difference between the two was in the way the black leather chains stood out against Orpheus' white body and their golden compatriots shone on her black skin. She woke up aroused. Princely prior pushing prevailed in perpetuity.

Elvira was fired up and moving quickly. The crowd had found a leader and followed her down the road northwest. People called out, "Revenge," "Never again," "Justice," "Equality," and some meaningless epithets that were known to be particularly offensive to white people.

They stopped on the grounds of the white school and immediately ran out of gas. While many thought that partial justice would be found in burning the now empty structure, no one wanted to be the one to start the flame.

As their calls quieted and they got still, each looking at the other to do something, Aazaziel watched with disgust and restlessness. He stopped working at his easel and smeared his face and head with the black paint. He opened the cabinet drawer where he kept his matches and winced when he saw there was only one left. He looked at the wall calendar and saw that he wouldn't be getting another delivery for three months. "Goddammit," he said out loud, as he didn't want to spend any time without part of his arsenal. He then laughed at his choice of words and sloppy impatience and thought; "Right, goddammit. If these mortals can't do anything themselves, I'll have to do it for them." He took his match and went to the school.

He materialized inside and was alone. He ignited a blaze in one room and nurtured it as it grew. The sight of a new fire always fascinated and excited him. He admired his artwork, even though others seemed to have their reservations. He was proud of his ability to work in different formats. Not many other supposedly "creative" people did. He reluctantly left when he saw it reach the roof. When the crowd saw it, they first cheered and then timidity quickly took over. First one, then two, then three, then everybody ran southeast toward home, each afraid of being shot or captured.

The horses pulling two fire wagons to the burning school reared up at the sight of the sprinting black throng covering the path and then pulled the wagons off the road and into ditches.

Later in the week Reverend Paul hosted his well anticipated visitors from headquarters in Boston. Their horse drawn carriage was reminiscent of the one his daughter saw fleetingly a week prior. This one, however, was drawn by two huge hooved, brown Clydesdales. The Reverend watched from the dining room front window, as the thin, scraggly, white driver turned the horses onto the church property. Blinds opened in the gilt inlayed black lacquered carriage and the dignitaries viewed the damage. As they got closer he could see that the driver's face was uneven, pushed to one side, as if someone had sat on it at birth, or used immense forceps to pull it out, when bones were still soft. It was impossible to tell if he was grinning or scowling. His deformed countenance seemed less than cordial. As the carriage slowly navigated the remains of the garden and its attendant path, the Reverend went to the front door to greet them. In his mind he was merely waiting for the second shoe to drop, but pragmatically, he conjured up enough energy to put on a good, optimistic show, full well knowing its irrelevance, as no doubt the decisions had already been made.

### Chapter 13- Holy Visitation and Down to Business

The horses were stopped right in front of the main door and the driver gave the Reverend what appeared to be a strange look, but might have been mundane normality, with a contorted smile or grimace and no cheery greeting. It was ignored as the Reverend knew no appropriate response to one possibly possessed. James was not trained in exorcisms, so the driver was easier to disregard and attribute the demonic appearance to merely the result of an unfortunate birth. The driver got down and opened the carriage door. Hands held by two helpers, a magisterial presence made its careful way down the steps to the ground. The Reverend saw an unexpected black face, with a gigantic reddish nose. He was tiny and that was made painfully obvious by the two foot tall red hat he wore. It bellied at its center and then tapered to the top, was decorated with golden borders and designs, culminating in a hard point aimed at the sky. The ridiculously loose, heavy and stiff scarlet robe ended just short of the ground. Pinned to it were gold figures, ostensibly of some religious significance and awards that the great one had accumulated over his sixty odd years. The two hand holders remained at the retractable steps, marching in place at attention, ready to perform their duties whenever required. They wore identical outfits, their garb and demeanor making one think of crested blue jays, hopping around chasing robins. The Reverend watched the little one approach holding onto his hat. He wondered if it was expected for him to kneel and kiss some ring. When the master got near the Reverend, he extended his right hand in a fist and James performed the required act.

Leaving his three subordinates outside, Tiny followed subordinate James into the living room and took a seat on an elaborate mahogany, blue upholstered Chippendale wing chair. James took the opposite side of the card table made in the court cupboard style and sat on a simpler walnut Queen Ann arm chair.

Reverend Paul was nervously a bit presumptuous and said; "It's a pleasant surprise to see a black face."

Tiny looked around to see if he was still within earshot of anyone else and then said; "Shh, in Rome they think I'm dark Italian." He paused a second, squirming around uncomfortably and tried to keep the monumental hat from falling off his head; "Can anyone see us in here?"

"No, not unless your people come to the side window."

"No, they're going to stay by the door and carriage." He stood up and removed the cumbersome paraphernalia, revealing a heavy light blue work shirt and black denim pants. He sat back down.

"Whew, that's a lot better. By the way, call me Sammy. It's short for Samedi. Do you have any cigars around?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Ah, well, let's get down to business. How is Ruth taking all of this?"

"Not well. She's upstairs sleeping. It's been quite a shock."

"I'll bet. You've got some really nice stuff in here. Is it American?"

"I'm not sure. It could be English. It's hard to tell the difference. If I might, I'm really curious about something. Please don't be offended, but how did you get this job?"

"Frankly, I think I was just in the right places at the right times, managed not to lose any money and never offended any of my bosses. Some people think that my size makes me appear innocuous, but I don't agree with that one. It probably makes me look more accessible than I really am and that helps. Are you sure you don't have a cigar? Maybe a parishioner left one somewhere."

"No, sorry, I'm certain. My wife hates the smell of those things and would have found it by now."

"God damn it. Sorry. All right, James. Here's the deal. You're going west, young man. I've got a crazy situation in the territories right now. Somebody made a stupid loan to a moonshiner. When he didn't pay, the Church acquired his property."

"Where?"

"Albuquerque, New Mexico. They tell me the weather is good. There aren't a whole lot of black people there, but this will be a low overhead operation. No school. No church. Just a big old adobe house built by some Spaniard in the 1600's. One of the eight large rooms was used as a place of worship, with a cross, a little altar and all that kind of crap."

James said; "Nice house, Sammy?" realizing that it was an irrelevant stupid question, but he wanted a little more time to think.

"That's what I'm told. It's very large for the area and I understand that adobes regularly need maintenance. The worst thing is that some design genius came up with the idea of a flat roof."

"Why?"

Sammy threw up his hands and said; "Don't ask me. It shouldn't be a huge problem. It doesn't rain much. Listen, I'm really pressed for time and desperately need to get a cigar somewhere. It's a lot better than cleaning the Church toilets in Boston. The way I figure it, if you could get as little as twenty parishioners tithing, you're in the black. I will honestly tell you that the place is full of Indians with no use for a church and Catholic Spaniards, who seem to think they are missionaries. But, I think you can do it, as you could run a small school out of the place, too. And, between you and me, we're kind of stuck with this thing and the powers that be have to be somewhat pleased that somebody is living there, taking care of it."

"Sammy, I asked you a couple of stupid questions. I can see very clearly why you're in the position you're in. You know what you're doing." Sammy stood up and extended his right hand.

James followed the lead and stood to accept the shake, saying; "Thanks, Sammy. Sincerely." The little one donned his heavy uniform and said "Ruth will like it there. Good luck, James." As he walked out of the room he said; "Isn't there a cigar store somewhere around this place?"

Business was still nonexistent for Orpheus' parents. His father's outlook improved when he stopped staring at his pile of iron and resumed making it into nails. The stupid nails started to pile up in place of the ugly blob of iron. All shapes and sizes congregated dreaming of a piece of wood, of any variety. Mr. Christopher missed his son and wondered what he was doing, but he didn't need any help in piling up more anxious slim pieces of black iron. Joe McCready resumed his former cheery facade when Mrs. Christopher offered to pay for the milk in nails. Sad Joe perked up when he was able to extract three times the value of his milk in forged iron. Presumably, his worries about the destitute condition of Pokey's food regimen were alleviated when he got him piles of nails to eat. It's hard to describe the degree of happiness in the typical day experienced by the Christophers when they resumed hearing Joe's effervescent "Good morning, how are you today's?"' as he made his well announced and thereby noticed deliveries.

So, the stereotypical recession in miniature produced the usual winners and losers. Mr. Christopher wondered why the fires did not occur in something that would be rebuilt expeditiously, such as a prison. Mrs. Christopher's demeanor was exemplary. While her goal was to expand their half cape to a full one, she decided that it was far from necessary and most likely the dream would merely be deferred. She never mentioned it to her husband, which had the effect of making him more aware of its importance. She, too, was curious about her son's doings and rather than expending any worry, she thought she might have an idea of why he was too busy to drop in and was pragmatically glad that he didn't, considering his possible effect on future nail business.

Despite her attitude of the previous day Eurydice left for the bakery the next morning to get her fair share of abuse and its attendant pieces of gold. She expected that June Boy would put up with a lot to look at her legs and cop a feel or two. D paid Orpheus her regular morning visit. She was more than mildly surprised, when she was greeted by an adamant Orpheus. She was a bit hurt, standing there in her red leather tube top and half skirt, when he looked at her disinterestedly and said; "Don't you ever change?"

She said; "Well,..... I guess you require more variety."

Orpheus looked away from her toward the tin and paints he still had on the floor and said; "Let's get a few things straight. I will not have you hanging around here all day and posing for Eurydice."

"I'm not POSING for Eurydice. Sometimes things just get carried away. You know."

"I don't care. You will leave here no later than 5 PM, eastern time, all right?"

She wasn't accustomed to taking orders and now her hurt feelings were accompanied by a probable decline in power. She said; "Maybe I just won't come at all."

"Don't play stupid with me. You know I'm not saying that and I think that outfit does wonders for you, but I have to get working on these damn pots and today, I'd like you to help me with that."

She was impressed with his devotion to Eurydice. It was one of the things that made her love him. But, it was difficult to get over not getting her way. She said; "You know I've been waiting since creation to find out all about the timeless mysteries."

"Well, join the club. But, first, today we have to try to come up with something I can sell."

They both laughed at his inadvertent erotic comment. She stepped out of her skirt and said; "Would it turn you on if I paid you?"

"After the last few days I don't think it's possible to get turned on now. I'm exhausted."

She walked over to his seat on the floor. His eyes were at the level of her belly button, but were looking nearby. He laughed and said; "Maybe I can handle once." Her power index rose from their early morning lows to its opening level. Permissive perpendicular prizes persisted.

When Eurydice returned after another long day of insults and sexual innuendo, her sight of a seemingly contented, relaxed Orpheus sitting on the floor added a kind of jealousy to her weary anger. She took some solace in not seeing any guests. Orpheus saw something move from the corner of his eye through the open window, kept his head down and scooted into the bedroom and put on his rag turban.

She got to the door and yelled; "Orpheus."

"Mask on."

She entered and he was annoyed, saying; "You know, I almost saw you through the open window."

"I wasn't the one who opened it. If you want it closed, keep it closed." She walked over to him, took his hand and put a black leather blindfold in it. She said; "Get that dirty rag off your head and put this on."

He carried it to the bedroom and obeyed, having some difficulty attaching all the clasps. He made his way slowly toward her, guided only by intuition and scent. He was getting somewhat accustomed to making his way around blind, but the transition still needed work.

Eurydice said; "Come on over here, boy."

Orpheus went at his own pace and when he re-entered the living area said; "Don't tell me. Real bad day at work."

"Yes, as a matter of fact I had a miserable day, but I also see that you did nothing all day."

"I was working on the concept."

She just looked at him. He heard the silence, so he continued; "Once I get the concept down, I can rattle them off like crazy. I just need one huge overall rule that works all the time."

She was going to use her indignant, hands on hips posture, but realized he wouldn't see it anyway, so she calmly said; "There is no such thing."

"Sure, there is."

"Tell me one."

This time Orpheus would have displayed the disdaining pose, but was half handicapped by not being able to show the wide eyed eyebrow raise. So, he just continued in her calm tone; "I'm not looking for the key to the universe. For instance, someone told me the best way to sell anything is to make it big and cheap."

She was intrigued. He always had that effect on her, even when she started out mad as hell. She asked; "I understand how you can easily make something cheap. But how do you handle the big part?"

Orpheus smiled and said; "That's what I've been working on. It would be easier if I could see you."

"You sure are a sweet, funny talker."

"But, I'm serious on one level. This is what I was thinking: I'm limited by the size of the pot. I started cutting up some tin pieces and then they looked so small to me. But, they're the largest I can use. The only way to make them bigger is to wrap them around the whole base and I think that would look stupid."

"I think you answered your own dilemma. They're as big as they can be, period. Now, what are you going to paint on them?"

"That's another concept I'm working on."

She tiptoed up to him and said; "Ooooh, you." She put her arms around his waist and followed with; "Just hold me and tell me everything's going to be all right."

He complied. Provocative phantoms propitiated proper prescriptions.

Somewhere Aazaziel was trying to burn off his nervous energy by trying to make the largest painting the world had ever known. He was generally pleased with the degree of discontent existing in his neck of the woods, but the fact that Orpheus and Eurydice were adjusting well to this mask business was like a fly constantly buzzing around his head. He kind of took for granted that they would have messed up already. Every other Orpheus and Eurydice he had known lasted less than a day. He didn't have any bright ideas, so he diligently worked on his new piece of art and swatted at flies.

### Chapter 14- Something New, Pure Art

D was in an unusual mood the next day. She thought that just maybe she was seeing things from her own viewpoint a bit too much. She considered what Orpheus probably felt about her. She decided that, know it or not, he loved her. How else could one possibly forgive someone who killed the love of their life?

So, she decided that she would love him back and help him get this painting business going. She probably could add a macabre element. She wished Alexander Pope had painted, as she couldn't imagine how anyone could depict his words otherwise.

On her next visit, she dressed conservatively, at least by her standards. She wore simple light blue pants and a long sleeved pink blouse and saw him sitting on the floor staring at the tins and paints. Her long black hair was parted in the middle and hung freely over her breasts and to the middle of her back. "No ideas?" she said.

"Too many ideas," he answered. "I have to get rid of some of them."

"You're confused."

"I guess you could say that. New outfit?"

"I've worn it before. It's a good one for fooling around with paints. What are you thinking about doing with them?"

"When I used to etch directly on the pot, I didn't have much time to think about what I was doing, so I'd just quickly put down the first thing that came into my head. But, now that I have unlimited time to paint on tin, I'm thinking about whether I should try to gauge the most common taste, be cutting edge, be over the line, be bold, be cute, be meaningless, on and on.

"Well, that's easy to fix. Give yourself a time limit for each painting and whatever comes out stays out."

"Let's try it." He opened all the paint cans and picked up a small brush.

She said; "You have one minute. Go."

He looked at the myriad of choices at his disposal and was initially overwhelmed. Thinking about the possibility of time running out, he reverted to painting the safe picture of a red rose, but gave it a long green stem accentuated with black thorns, each half the size of the petals.

"What do you think?" he said.

"It's all right. Do another. Go."

He painted a little white house with a black roof, surrounded by brown leafless trees.

She said; "I think I may have influenced you."

He laughed and said; "No doubt."

She said; "Okay, one more. Go."

Not wanting to duplicate himself, he painted a black night sky containing an orange moon and yellow stars.

She winced.

He saw that and said; "No good?"

"It stinks."

He looked at it for a few seconds and said; "You're right." He used the pink rag formerly used to wrap his head to wipe the tin clean. He added; "See, no problem on tin."

D said; "Come on. One more good one. Go."

He returned to the scene of his earlier success and painted another flower; this time a blue tulip with a short green stem, devoid of thorns, with a small yellow sun at it left.

"I like it," she said.

He looked at it, contemplated and said; "I like the flower, but the sun is weird."

"That's probably why I like it. It makes me wonder why it's so small."

"Maybe because I made a crappy picture."

She laughed and said; "Yes, but maybe, just maybe the artist is making some statement about the relative importance of the two, or maybe he's saying the sun is way off in the distance."

"I didn't have either of those thoughts."

"But, the one viewing the brush strokes doesn't know that. If it makes someone think it means they'll look at it longer and be more likely to buy it."

"What if someone asks me what it means?"

"Then you say that you can't recall. It had its time and place but that's gone now."

"That's kind of true anyway. This could be a fun job. Let's keep going. How about you try one?"

He handed her a clean brush and said; "One minute. Go."

She painted a poppy, on very long winding green stem, but with a purple, rather than white flower, sitting in a blue puddle with pink raindrops which exited a pink cloud. She looked at him softly, flipped her long black hair and said; "What do you think?"

"I like it. What does it mean?"

"Love is the drug." Partial petunia petals.

When Eurydice got home the sight of the hundreds of mini-paintings lying on the floor elevated her mood to merely cantankerous. She said; "Have you been painting those things blindfolded?"

Orpheus laughed and said; "Do you make your buns blindfolded?" He tried to find her sound, his arms stretched. She grabbed his right hand with both of hers and said; "Wait right there, Romeo. I don't want any more pawing today."

His lightheartedness gone, he realized what she was going through. This kind of day was her grand prize for loving him, commemorated with a trophy of nervous fatigue. He was at a loss for words and could merely wish that things were different for her. Why couldn't they go back to their fathers' houses and play like children?

She could feel the sadness in his covered eyes and put her arms around him. They silently held on to each other, grateful for the other's being there. She broke away first saying; "I'm really bushed. I need to lay down a while." She went to the bed in the other room and he followed, holding on to her hand. They laid down, she on her left side and him behind her with his right arm around her belly and his right leg over her left. They never felt any better. They dozed wishing the sleep could restore them to where they were such a short time ago.

Aazaziel contented his anti-heart with the monumental task of single handedly trying to complete a painting the size of two house walls. He didn't want to repeat something that appeared elsewhere, yet he thought it would be impossible to finish if every symbol had to be unique. He wasn't the one trained in making snowflakes.

He was the one trained in creating chaos, or merely pointing out its existence. He realized that he had become lazy, falling into a formula of about ten approaches which always worked. To finish his masterpiece without using some cheap concept like shadows, smoke and mirrors, he would have to come up with thoughts not previously in his repertoire. If he could use rituals or circles, like going to church, he could make a lot of progress, but dismissed the idea as just another form of repetition. He pondered the task of creating a huge depiction of evil. Was it even possible, if someone didn't first create a huge depiction of good? He felt weakened by the realization that he was entirely derivative, a mere anti thing. He decided to take a day off and just go strolling in Boston to see if he could find anything good that he had not yet damaged.

The cobblestone streets were modestly empty the night he arrived. He kind of felt at home under poor lighting. He looked in the shop windows seeing the usual stuff and some things for the Halloween soon to come. He got no ideas until he turned a corner and found a decaying once grand Grecian colonial house with a wooden sign at the curb, "Shelter for the Poor". He had his new direction. SHELTER. He thought; "I'll do anti-shelter." It was so simple he felt extremely stupid for not having thought of it previously. He was again chagrined, feeling completely derivative, but decided if that was all he was capable of, what could he do about it? What the hell? Most people aren't even capable of derivation. What is essential to human beings? Food, clothing and shelter.

He got right back to his studio and quickly proceeded to try to depict food, anti-food, clothing, anti-clothing, shelter and anti-shelter. This could go on forever. It was special fun to do the anti-clothing part. Best thing to do was to keep working hard.

### Chapter 15- Acts Abominable

Orpheus and Eurydice got up together and she made breakfast for the both of them. Orpheus was quiet for a change, sensing that this was precisely the time not to risk saying something stupid.

After a minute of egg cracking, she said; "You really should know this. I know I promised I'd try to keep this jackass job for six months and I meant it, but now that I've had the experience, I feel very differently about it."

Orpheus still wanted to say nothing, particularly about this subject, as it was at the center of things. He thought he was helped by the fact that he didn't have any bright answer and tried; "I understand."

Eurydice angrily said; "No, you can't possibly understand."

His initial instinct was woefully wrong. He didn't think anything bad could come of "I understand." It's a nice sentiment. So he again got quiet a while.

She said; "Well, do you have anything at all to say?"

"It's probably better if I don't say this, but let me try. I can't fully understand, but I understand enough to trust your judgment. If you can't handle it, you just can't handle it. We'll figure something out. If everything goes wrong, I think we can probably move in with my parents."

"They just told us that it was out of the question, right?"

"Yeah. But if it comes right down to it are they going to allow their only son to become homeless? There is no poverty shelter in Sudbury."

She laughed and said; "You're a devil."

"No, I'm not, at least not that way. I'll tell them that we can lay low and nobody else will know about it."

The eggs were quite warm and they soon sat down to breakfast.

After a while, she said; "I'm sorry. I'm just nervous about some things. You're not causing me any problem. I don't hate the world. I just wish it would stop hating me." She changed tone to a chirpier one and continued; "Hey, I gotta tell you about the dream I had last night."

"Good or bad?"

"I'm not sure. Shut up and listen. It's almost a dream within a dream. I'm a white china bird. Yeah, white of all things. Anyway, I'm sitting in this cabinet with my wings extended like I'm flying. My two black china bird friends are sitting with their wings at their sides. They sometimes tease me saying things like 'Where you going, girl? The cabinet is locked and you can't fly with those china wings anyway.' We're in a pleasant room, sparsely decorated with items mostly of the delicate Heppelwhite style. The door opens and the little flying faker, otherwise known as me, says; 'Oh, no. Not again.' My companions chuckled at the predicament. And as usual the properly dressed gentleman comes in and puts me through some kind of inspection. A key opens the case and he rudely grabs me and holds me up to the faces of his two friends. I yell out; 'At least be careful. I've already had a few chips, you know.' They act as if they just didn't hear me and continue handling me, passing me from one to the other. One of my two friends back in the safety of the, to date, unmolested cabinet with a glass front says; 'You know they always take the ones that think they are flyers.' Their china faces show no change or emotion."

Eurydice paused a few seconds and then said; "Well, what do you think of it?"

"I could say a lot of things, but the important one is what you said first. You ain't no white china bird. So, who you dreaming about?"

"I don't know." She paused. "Maybe you." She laughed and kissed Orpheus, saying; "Oh, look, I got to get going."

Aazaziel was so excited he toiled furiously, forgetting food and sleep. But, he still had half of the enormous canvas to finish and he was beginning to get footprints all over it. It wasn't what he intended, but the prints added a sense of movement to the big picture. He found it easy to depict anti-shelters and anti-clothes, basically using a collapsed roof or a flood coming out of a window scenario and naked body segments. He considered putting at least a few in flames, but had trouble making the fire look anything like what it did in real life. The anti-food, however, presented a difficulty all its own. As far as he could understand, the opposite of food was nothing to eat, so go try and paint nothing. He had to find something people would consider less than zero. Perhaps that concept had a physical counterpart. He gouged out parts of the canvas with a large heavy iron fork. He continued through the night, the loss of sunlight replaced by the flames of hurricane lamps.

As this was his initial foray into the world of compulsion, he was disappointed to see that flies were attracted to the lamps in the absence of moonlight. As a consequence, they inevitably flew close to the heat of the flame and died, some falling into the still wet painting and using it for an open grave. Removing them would result in the addition of footsteps to an already busy scene. He decided that the best option available was to leave the flies. At first he tried to launch small missiles of paint from his brush, hoping he'd be accurate enough to appropriately cover the dead. He had some success at the edge but was making a real mess toward the center. He thought about it a bit and decided to leave the carcasses alone, as eventually they would dry up and disintegrate anyway.

D made her usual morning call. Today she tried to push up her provocation level a bit and chose to wear a tight light blue pair of denim shorts that appeared to be sprayed on the very upper thighs. Her off-white loose blouse imitated that of eastern European peasants. Her long black hair had its complete freedom, only touched by a pink scarf tied around her temple, the remainder of which hung in two strands down her back, giving a softening effect to her black covering.

"Hey," she said when she saw Orpheus again on the floor with his tins and paints.

He turned slightly in her direction and said; "Hey, yourself."

She tried to sit on the floor next to him, but had difficulty getting her shorts to co-operate. After a few unsuccessful tries she forgot about sitting and just lay down on the floor, her head supported by her crooked left arm.

He looked at an unbalanced face which had heavy black mascara around the eyes, set off with pale orange lipstick. He said; "I like it. You look like a confused teenager."

She squirmed around trying to sit up, only able to get halfway there. She said; "I think you have to be a teenager to wear these things."

"I was looking at the paintings we did yesterday. I think the flowers are the best idea. It's going on a flower pot and all that. I noticed that when I paint a flower I generally use bright colors for the petals and you usually use dark."

"So, what are you saying?" she said as she revolved around like a turtle on its back.

"I'm saying I like the balance and it gave me an idea. Without having to duplicate anything we can paint every flower known to mankind in every color known to mankind. I can do the lights and you can do the darks. We can churn these things out like crazy without any thought necessary."

She was listening as she continued to go through contortions, in an attempt to get comfortable. So far the only position that afforded some solace was lying on the floor supported by a crooked hand, but that quickly made her elbows hurt. She said; "I like the idea a lot. But, I'd like to point out that the possibilities are huge, but definitely not infinite."

He didn't really want to think about so arcane a technicality when he was so excited and said; "When and if we run out of possibilities, we can make pairs, trios, or gatherings."

She was really half listening, paying primary attention to the constrictions of her poor pants choice, but heard enough to reply; "The pieces of tin aren't huge. I doubt if we can get more than a trio on one and that would be a push."

He wondered why she was trying to infest him with her own perceived limitations, but acquiesced and said; "Okay, three is the maximum number, but we can do other things to create the variety. Some of the flowers can be alive, some may be cut, some may be blooming and some may be crushed. We can do like pairs, unlike pairs, like and unlike trios and everywhere in between. And maybe the most fun of all, if and when we run out of possibilities, will be inventing new flowers, colors, arrangements and groupings."

She was still fidgeting and said; "I've had it with these pants," and took them off, with difficulty, laughing and grunting. Artwork flowed and they lost track of time and limitations. A potpourri of pot possibilities produced.

Eurydice was spending another morning under the watchful gaze of Cornelius Jefferson, known mercifully as June Boy. She tolerated the constant surveillance well, but started to see negative red when the clumsy large employer needed the use of some part of her body to regain his balance time and again.

When she didn't say anything, Corny picked a more interesting spot, with each stumble. With the fourth fall Mr. Jefferson somehow managed to need the support of the long black tightropes near her epicenter. He worked his way up, put his arm strongly behind her neck, pulled her to him and kissed her on the mouth, using his lips to lubricate what she thought was about half of her face.

She slipped down out of the vice grip and yelled; "That's it." He again moved toward her. She grabbed an empty metal pot and said; "You touch me again and this is going to be upside your fat head."

She went to the door, threw the pot at him and started to run home crying. She slowed down to a trot when she got near Lettie's house and was walking and sobbing when she got there. She didn't see anyone outside and was glad that she wasn't compelled to answer a lot of "What's wrong's?" She walked slowly home, trying to focus on Orpheus's kindhearted understanding of what she was going through. She got an even better feeling for it when she got to the again open window and saw Orpheus's paintbrush dipped in the pink can. She went to the door and screamed "Orpheus!"

D disappeared at the noise and Orpheus thought that he had at least two big problems. He decided to get the mask first and called back softly; "Mask on."

She burst in the door and said; "This time I saw her plain as day."

"Saw who?"

"The white bitch who is showing her true colors. Don't play with me." She walked into the bedroom and looked around a bit and continued; "She must be getting out of here through some underground tunnel and I'm not looking for it. I know what I know. She left her damn shorts, or are you going through changes?"

Orpheus went to her and said; "Oh, baby." He tried to put his arms around her.

She said; "Don't you dare touch me with hands that have been all over that white devil."

Aazaziel said; "At your service."

Eurydice answered; "I guess you think you got a promotion."

"When you see what I have, you'll no doubt agree that I deserve one."

Eurydice said; "The first thing you're going to show me is how to exit this house. You've got paint all over your sneakers." She pushed him to the front door by the shoulders, careful not to touch his baggy black denim pants which had paint smears, but not nearly as bad as his sneakers.

Aazaziel said; "Okay, okay. I'm going and what I have to show you is outside anyway." She got a bit ahead of him and opened the door, not wanting to touch anything with hands that might have been anywhere. She pushed him out, making note of the relatively clean heavy denim shirt he wore. It had two pockets, closable with buttoning flaps, but was now open. She was pleased with the improvement in his head. He covered it up with a pink and yellow scarf knotted in the back, the ties hanging to mid-back.

She was amazed at the enormity of it. Aazaziel walked to the painting and stood by it, ready to entertain questions about the finer points. It was about forty feet wide and fifteen feet high, comprised of two distinctly different halves. The right side was completely filled with splashes of paints, some in streaks like paths and some circular like a puddle. Every color of the rainbow was utilized, many overlapping each other. Further scrutiny evinced an overweighting of blues, pinks and whites. Footprints indicated a visitor who stayed only long enough to make the paths and puddles less clear. Their red and black color seemed to mar the painting in an irregular pattern, looking as if someone who knew no boundaries made a hasty escape.

The left side also had splashes of paint, but it was done more sparsely and heavily concentrated on browns, greens and blues. Houses of white, yellow and brown with collapsed roofs or blue water pouring out of the lower windows were arranged in rows over half the area. There were five gouges taken out of the canvas, inadequately covered over in bright red. Little stick people of all colors were standing around all over the place, perhaps waiting for something.

Aazaziel said; "Great, huh?"

Eurydice said; "There are dead flies all over it."

Aazaziel said; "Yeah, I know. It's a long story. Ignore the flies. They'll fade in time. What does it say to you?"

She said; "I only know one other thing that flies congregate in as much as this." She shook her head and had her first laugh of the short day.

Aazaziel said; "You have a fantastic grasp of the obvious. Let me get Orpheus out here."

He led the blindfolded one out, saying that he wanted his learned opinion, on his new creation. Orpheus was hesitant, as under no circumstances did he want to risk seeing Eurydice. They made arrangements whereby the still blindfolded underground traveler stood in front of the canvas with Eurydice right behind him. He used his left hand to touch her, making sure of where she stood and his right to briefly lift his black mask. He was nervous about something going wrong, so he looked for a second and quickly put the mask back in place.

Aazaziel was disappointed, feeling that his masterpiece deserved a better study. He said; "What did you see?"

Orpheus said somewhat questioningly; "A big flytrap?"

Eurydice lost it and started bending at the waist and knees, laughing uncontrollably, saying; "What it is, is what it is."

Aazaziel could not have been more insulted. He would have preferred being spat on. He said; "This I the best anyone can do. Come now, be serious."

Remembering the fly trap, hearing Aazaziel's pleading tone and enjoying the spasms of his wife, Orpheus just kept hold of her with his left hand and started laughing as she continued to.

Aazaziel looked coldly at the two and said; "You think you're so smart, but I'm the one who is in charge here. Try laughing at this. You two are the only humans who know of Eurydice's death and resurrection. I'm going to remove that memory from her mind."

The couple stopped laughing and stood still, Eurydice looking at the irate little one. Aazaziel focused his yellow eyes on her brown ones and said; "Eurydice, you're young and alive."

The two stood quietly, somewhat bewildered for ten seconds, Aazaziel now the laughing one. Eurydice broke the silence when she said; "Orpheus, take off that stupid mask."

### Chapter 16- The Split

Aazaziel made a grand exit, bringing his favorite life's work with him. He seemed to linger in a shadow, perhaps expecting applause. When he was greeted with silence, he shrugged and completely disappeared.

Orpheus tried to move away from Eurydice, fearing that she would attempt to remove his only way to be with his love. She forgot the temporary amusement created by the big flytrap and reverted to the mood she was in when she first got home.

She said; "I'm serious. Take that damn thing off. I don't like it."

Orpheus didn't have anything better to say than the truth, though he had monumental suspicions that it would only make matters worse. He said; "I can't take this off. If I look at you, you'll disappear and we'll never see each other again."

She just looked at him and then realized that he couldn't see her expression and said; "You've got to be putting me on, right?"

He emphatically said; "I've never lied to you and never will." When he heard no reply, he considered continuing, but also thought that she might retain an ear of disbelief, but concluded that he would try it anyway. "Death took you, Eurydice. You were dead. I brought you back from the underworld, but this 'not seeing you' business was dropped on me later. Don't misunderstand. If the deal was given to me up front, I would have taken it anyway."

"So, if I choose to believe that lame story, then I owe you my life."

"I wouldn't say it that way."

"Then how would you precisely articulate that one?"

"You know that you're really forcing me to make a very quick reaction to a very tricky situation."

"Yes, I'm forcing you." She raised her voice; "I deserve it."

"The best way I can think of saying it right now is that we owe each other our lives."

"So, it's equal."

"Yes, I love you, damn it."

She thought back to the recently established pattern; she comes home after a long unpleasant day. He charms her with words. They dance. Tomorrow morning her misery starts all over again. Maybe he does think that he loves me, but the net result of my being with him is prolonged unhappiness. If he really did love me, he wouldn't allow that. He did say that I could quit the job any time I wanted, but where would that leave us? Somebody would have to go out and get us something to eat and I know that somebody is going to be me. His rationale was quickly following the way of Aazaziel. There was no use to her in pursuing this line of argument, so she tried to keep it simple and of this earth, saying; "I saw you with that white girl today."

"Yes, you told me you did."

"So?"

"So, it's not what you think."

"Don't pretend you can read my mind. What is it?"

"That was Death. I call her D now. She was responsible for your death."

"So, I guess you were showing her your appreciation?"

At the risk of losing his mask, Orpheus moved in the direction of her voice, reached out for her and said; "Oh, baby."

She moved away from him, saying; "Don't give me that stuff. All I ever hear from you lately sounds like you think I'm a complete idiot." She screamed; "At least take off that stupid mask."

He moved back, putting his hands over his eyes to keep the blindfold in place and as a backup in case she tried to yank it off.

She said; "I'm not going for your mask. Right now I don't want to come anywhere near touching you. So, I'm going to ask you just once more. Will you please take off that ridiculous mask?"

When she got no response she said; "I don't want to be here anymore. As tired as I am, I'm going to walk to my father's house and stay there a while."

He heard her footsteps getting more distant in the brittle leaves lying on the ground. He called out; "I love you, Eurydice," and he cried, soaking his mask.

She moved quickly through the decaying woodland, found the main path, followed it to the "T" and went westward toward her father's house. She stopped momentarily at the river, looked back and collected her thoughts. Her life was not becoming anything like she ever imagined it would be. Orpheus was acting bizarrely. She was now certain that there was some other woman in his life and indeed, a white one who looked like she'd been around for some time. Her parents would no doubt be leaving Sudbury soon and if the three of them left together maybe the catalysts for the recent racial and economic strife would be gone. As far as she knew, Sudbury had been a peaceful place prior to the countless black feet trudging their way to school and church and prior to her open pairing with that philanderer. She was accustomed to things better than this. In London she was generally treated with respect and perhaps an overly solicitous curiosity. As annoying as it was at times, being made to feel like some sort of cultural freak, it was preferable to this. She would miss that thick lipped, charming white boy, but if she stayed here she would also miss her mom, dad and Betsy. She thought of turning back, but was already tired from so much walking and the troubling events of the still young day.

She was out of thoughts and lingered for another minute looking back in the direction of Orpheus's parents and Lettie's house, seeing neither. Her view was that of healthy nude fall trees, no doubt drawing perennially from the Hoosatonic, framed by a sky that was neither blue, white, nor gray, but rather a mixture of the three. The undefined clouds filtered out the sun, which appeared to be and was as useless as a generalized, huge, flat dirty mirror sitting in an unlit room. Her gaze turned once more in the direction of the house she shared with Orpheus and some mystery slut. She couldn't return under the circumstances. Tears filled her eyes and she whispered; "I'll find some way back."

She turned and briskly crossed the bridge. When she got to the charred ruins she saw two horses hitched to a small covered wood wagon. She walked down the decimated garden path to the door and opened it. She wasn't noticed as her parents and Betsy were scampering around trying to be sure that they had not left anything behind.

Eurydice called out; "Already?"

Reverend Paul heard her and replied; "Oh, hi, baby. You saved us a trip to the bakery. Yeah, we got our marching orders."

Ruth walked over and hugged her daughter. She started crying; "I'm gonna miss you, baby girl."

Eurydice frantically asked; "Where are you going?"

Ruth brushed back the short hair that crowned her slightly overweight, average sized body, shrugged and said; "Albuquerque."

Eurydice's eyes questioningly widened and she said; "Albuquerque? That's the other side of the world."

Ruth nodded somewhat dejectedly.

James interceded and said; "That's what I've heard, too. But I'm also told that there are some folks out there who might need what we were trying to do here, just on a smaller scale."

Eurydice was shocked at the suddenness of it all. She held her mother and joined her in the soggy eye department. Knowing that this was not the time for a counseling session she blurted out; "This is the worst day of my life, I might never see you again."

Ruth tried to think of something positive and came up with; "All little girls grow up and get married. Who knows, maybe we'll come back in a while and maybe you'll move out there."

Eurydice's emotions were understandably more than she could handle. She spouted out; "June Boy feels me up all day, the customers laugh at me and Orpheus has a girlfriend."

Reverend Paul furrowed his brow, looked right at his daughter and said; "What did you say?"

Eurydice actually managed a smirk and said; "I shouldn't have said girlfriend. This one hasn't been called anything with girl in it for at least twenty-five years."

Reverend Paul continued; "You've seen her?"

Eurydice nodded and said; "Yes, a few times."

Reverend Paul's face turned to steel and he angrily said; "Damn white **** started already? That's intolerable." The thought crossed his mind that Orpheus's involvement with his little girl might have more to do with curiosity than love. He certainly wasn't doing anything to support her properly. His temper flared further and he retrieved a clothes line from a drawer. He said; "Like it or not, you're coming with us."

When he tried to tie her hands Eurydice only resisted the slightest bit. By the time he got to her feet she was perfectly calm.

Eurydice implored; "Where is Betsy? Is she coming with us?"

Betsy was lingering in the adjoining room, listening, but not wanting to get overtly involved in family affairs.

James called out; "Betsy, come on out here."

Betsy entered, hugged the moist eyed girl and said; "No, baby. I can't go to no Albuquerque. All my friends are here." Eurydice lifted her tied hands, put them around her and said; "Except for a few."

Betsy lost it and burst into tears. She chokingly said; "You'll always be in my heart." She gave Eurydice one last squeeze, then slipped out of their embrace.

Eurydice said; "I'll miss you the most, Betsy. Can't you come?"

Betsy shook her head from side to side and said; "No, baby. I've got a new little girl I have to take care of here. You remember me, though and remember one other thing, too. There are millions of guys out there, but you've only got one daddy."

James picked up Eurydice and carried her to the back of the wagon, tying her to an overhead support beam. He said; "Now, I know we got everything. Let's go, Ruth."

James and Ruth climbed to the wagon seat and he gave the horses a gentle slap with the reins and they were on their way, Eurydice looked out the open back door at a waving Betsy. She wished she could do the same.

Eurydice stared until Betsy was out of sight and then looked at her traveling companions. She saw trunks filled with clothes, books and personal items. Apparently none of the Queen Anne, Chippendale or Heppelwhite furniture was making the trip. It seemed suiting that they stay with the house. Maybe all the bad things are left behind.

Despite Eurydice's presence, Reverend Paul decided to make a call at the bakery. After he threw all the goods on the floor, he punched June Boy in the face twice, knocking him to the ground, spit in his face and left.

As soon as the wagon was out of town, Eurydice had a change of heart and yelled out; "Daddy, let me out of here. I don't want to go."

Reverend Paul stopped the horses and went into the back where Eurydice was getting nowhere tugging at the ropes. He said; "I knew this would happen. That's why I kept you tied. Calm down and think about it. You're still so young, too young to be tied to a festering bowl of white squalor."

He again took the reins and started moving. Eurydice comforted herself, as much as possible, with the thought that whether she went, or whether she stayed, she would be leaving people she loved, maybe forever. And under the circumstances, if she decided sometime in the future that she didn't like the results; she could always blame her daddy. Wasn't that what fathers were for?

Orpheus walked back to the house sans mask, with his eyes on the ground. Upon entering, he saw D with her pants still off. He said; "Come on D, not now. I think my life got ruined today and I'm in no mood."

D said; "Sorry, I should have understood. I've been selfishly thinking of myself. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? It makes me crazy. I'm really not going to try to fit in those damn shorts again, though."

She disappeared and a few seconds later returned with a floor length green dress. She retained the off white peasant blouse, the black eyeliner and pale orange lipstick. She said; "Let's create lots of flowers today."

He said; "I think that today I'm going to change my specialty to the dark colors."

She made no retort, hoping that he didn't accidentally say something of importance.

He continued; "If I look at her, she's gone. If I don't look at her, she's gone. Is this the garbage life is made of?"

D said; "I know little of life. Up until very recently, you might recall, I was known as Death." They sat on the floor and she experimented with the light colors.

Darkness crept its unfeeling inevitable presence into Sudbury. As he lit the hurricane lamps, Orpheus was very worried about his estranged bride. Somehow he knew that she was not coming back that night, but perked himself up a bit when he decided that most likely she was spending the night with the Reverend. His guess was good, as far as it went. He said; "D, why don't we just cut it. I can't see well enough to paint any more anyway."

She said; "Maybe they'll come out better if we work blind."

He considered the thought. If he was having problems seeing the brush strokes, he would no doubt have even more trying to see words in books. He tried to think of an interesting topic for discussion, but his mood told him that anything said would be meaningless and stupid. This half-light, half-dark, twilight condition was only good for one thing he could think of. He looked at the long green dress D was wearing and considered the relief possible in hiding himself, by immersing his eyes in the completely dark area of nutrition. Painstaking preliminaries produced para-mutual partaking.

At daybreak the sun's slow sleepy ascent deposited its golden rays on the green dress, permeating every space in the fabric. The sight of his nighttime penchant made it an illuminated predilection. He got a casual, slow start on the day, not finishing breakfast until near noon in his languid state.

His proboscis permeated the plethora of plumage and plain perfumery, his practiced palate performed protractedly and preferentially on the perforation, pads of pulchritude and pronounced protrusion. His piety paid profusely and it poured powerless. Praise the Princess of Peace and her prodigious pie.

D gave him an exhausted smile, pulling him by the hair. He thanked her liberally for the coffee, bacon, ham and eggs and went off to track down Eurydice. As soon as he got out the door, he realized his stupidity. If he was successful in finding her, she would disappear. If he used D as his eyes, Eurydice might see her and that would only add fuel to the flames. He stood outside and again pondered the situation. It was the same old story; if he looked at her she'd be gone and if he didn't look at her she'd probably be gone. How could he look at her and not look at her at the same time, that's the real question of a lifetime. Could he look at her as if she were someone else? That doesn't sound like anything better than a technicality that wouldn't be decided in his favor. He hated to do this, but since D was in a good mood, he'd ask her to run an errand for him.

### Chapter 17- Taking Care of Business

He went back in the house and mock-sheepishly said; "D, can you do me a favor?"

She knowingly made an obligatory, short smile and a cheery; "Sure."

"Can you go find Eurydice for me?"

D was waiting for this one and responded quickly; "Sure and when I find her, I'll say that I'm Orpheus' girlfriend and he wants you to come home. He can't do it himself because he's wearing a blindfold."

"Good point. Maybe you can just find her and then bring me there."

"Don't you understand sarcasm? In no way am I going to try to find her. Come on. Don't you ever think of my feelings?"

He cuddled and kissed her and said; "You're right. I'm sorry I asked. I guess I feel desperate. Don't go. I'll just sit here and worry all day."

She said; "I know you're trying to tug on my heart strings." She paused and added; "And the god damn thing about it is that it works. But, don't you care that you're tugging?"

"I don't know what I'm doing or thinking. Everything is getting circular. Break your heart or break my own. Break her heart and break my own. Try to love her, break her heart. Try to love you and break yours. I can't do anybody any good and dammit, I'm trying my best. But, consider the pressures I've been under for the last year. Keep in mind I've had a fairly normal life. Then all of a sudden I meet the love of my life, a crazy lady who says she's Death and some little bald-head nut, who tries to act like an agent of the devil. Come on, now. Give me a break."

D laughed and said; "Oh yeah, I see your point. It's kind of funny when you think about it that way. It's a wicked game. The only possible happiness for us is if Eurydice does something to make you hate her."

"And then, I'll think that she did it falsely, to make things easier for me."

"And the only way for you and Eurydice to be happy is if I leave and you start making money from our paintings."

"Maybe we should all just be alone."

"It doesn't work. Take my word."

"Suicide?"

"We may be doomed to re-incarnation. I really don't know, but it sounds like one considering suicide must hurt all the time. We have our pleasurable diversions. Maybe more time should be devoted to them."

"Then, when it's over, it's back to the suffering."

"Who says it has to be over? I can go on virtually forever if I feel like it. Any female can. It's you who has a problem."

"So, you're saying women are eternal?"

"Sexually, they are. Men can be eternal, too, if they discover other sexual organs, that don't wear out. When you stop talking you seem to have some insights into the matter."

He said; "I just remembered something I have to take care of. I've got to peck on the prolific primeval pit." He got on his knees and cleaned out the fireplace.

Later in the day, D felt sorry for him and his worries about Eurydice. She would have him for eternity; maybe she could tolerate her for a lifetime. She decided to sacrifice herself and go looking for the black absentee.

D chose to walk, feeling more and more human. Why not get the whole experience. She followed the declining sun west. She also needed time to think everything over. It was all too complicated for her, like being trapped in a circle when you want to get back to the straight path that meets it on one spot. So, the plan is easy. Find that spot. Her old job was easier. Maybe it's not so great to be human. Anyway, she already had made her important choices. Might as well concentrate on what she was doing. What if she hits me? That's easy, run like hell. Who do I tell her I am? I'm D, a friend of Orpheus, who is worried about you. Why can't he come himself? Okay, he broke his leg with that stupid mask on. That ought to do it.

Mental masturbation proved to be merely amusing, as Eurydice was not at the house, nor the bakery. The house looked cleared out.

When she got back home she told Orpheus that "She was gone and that most likely she left with her folks."

He said; "She wouldn't do that."

D just looked at him and waved her hands and shrugged her shoulders.

He added; "Maybe somebody can confirm that." His tone dropped down to perfectly calm with no expectations. "Let's make a bunch of flowers no one has ever seen before."

Eurydice wasn't a happy camper either. When she got to the middle of New York, she was no longer the least bit pleased to be sitting on the floor of a wooden wagon going down bumpy dirt roads. At times she stood at the back door window and watched the place she was leaving. The next time the Reverend stopped to get the horses water she called out; "Dad, I can't sit in here anymore."

He said; "Are you going to run away?"

"No, I'm settled."

"All right. I'll trust you." He climbed in the back and untied the ropes.

"Thanks. Even if I wanted to I wouldn't want to try to make it all the way back alone and without food. Are we still in New York?"

"Yeah and we will be for a while more. This whole trip is going to last until July next year."

"If I can get myself a decent seat, I think I'll enjoy the trip. I want to see what's ahead before it attacks me."

"You sound like an old lady."

"I learn fast."

He sighed and held her a second. "Come on up on the seat with mom and me." She took the left side, her mother silently on the right.

Eurydice; "So, am I still disowned?"

Reverend; "No and you never were. I didn't file any papers. I just wanted everyone to believe that I did. Turns out, it didn't make a bit of difference. A waste. Sorry."

Eurydice; "Okay, you're forgiven. I understand. When are you going to let me take the reins?"

"I think you've already had them. Want to try again so quickly?"

"Sure."

D eventually found her way to Betsy, who apparently had told the news to half the town. She relayed this to Orpheus, who wasn't upset. As the days passed, each one made her permanent departure the most likely scenario. After the continual revolving of the thoughts, feelings and hopes, in a few weeks he settled into the inevitability of what was and loved D for helping him through. He took D's hand and softly said; "She sure fooled me."

D said; "Want some time alone?"

He said; "Yeah, thanks."

"I'll take a walk to the river."

It was beginning to feel like winter. The gray clouded sky threatened rain during the day and snow at night, establishing a dreary countryside. Northern winds prompted her to consider turning back. She kept walking thinking; "Now Orpheus will miss her forever and there's nothing I can do to change that."

When she got to the river she got a long view. The river, the trees, the sky, the houses, everything looked gray and it was impossible to discern where one thing ended and another started. She turned her head to a noise on the water. It was some kind of bird with a fish in his beak, using his wings to slowly swim to the riverside. He could have made a better choice, but he picked his land re-entry spot where it was three feet above the water. He kept trying to climb the vertical hill and falling back in the water. At this point she correctly concluded that this poor bird could not fly in the least. She got discouraged watching him time and again try and fail, so she turned away. When the revolving panorama of grays returned her eyes to the spot he was gone. She wished that she'd continued watching, as now she'd never be sure if he made it. She was certain no bird carcasses were floating in the water. She kept looking at the treed land hoping to get a glimpse of him somewhere. He may have succeeded in hiding from one whose sympathy and attention he had no use for, without ever realizing that he was admired for his abilities, not the lack of them.

Her reverie was rudely interrupted by a gunshot across the river, the northern sector. A lifeless bird body splashed in the water and a golden retriever did his job. The hunter took the limp black bird from its mouth, put it in a wooden box and looked in D's direction. She looked back unafraid and with a contempt he couldn't see. The absurd standoff continued and D wished that she had one extra execution left in her. The hunter called out; "Perfect shot, wasn't it?"

D called back; "It would have been if you reversed the barrel and the butt."

The hunter aggressively said; "What do you mean by that?"

"Just what I said, genius. Which of those big words do you not understand?" She saw him staring icily at her and realized that if he was a good enough shot to hit a flying bird, it probably wouldn't be difficult for him to hit her. She decided that she had all she could tolerate of the cold wind, turned and left. When she was again surrounded by trees she felt secure and wanted to give Orpheus more time alone. She kept moving to keep somewhat warm, but zigzagged around maximizing the distance traversed.

"What a place," she said to herself when she saw another man carrying a rifle, holding two dead rabbits by their ears. The elderly black man must have read the look on her face when he volunteered; "This is my dinner, lady." She didn't have any bright answer for him and he didn't care to hear one, anyway. She thought; "At least this one didn't tell me what a good shot he was."

She thought about her former means of employment. Sure, she had executed people, but they were just names given to her on lists. Many were suffering from something or other. Some were in constant physical pain. Some were alone and anguished. She had always considered herself merciful. She didn't understand or feel the least bit good about taking out otherwise healthy young men, young women in childbirth and kids. Hers was a world of blind rules dictated by someone no one knows, but defended and supervised by many would be executives. Often, at times when she was ordered to end the life of someone healthy, loved and needed by their families, she wondered what would happen if she just said; "No." Now she was getting an idea and this mortality gig seemed even more difficult and absurd. Maybe things will get better.

When she got back to the house, Orpheus was waiting by the door and put his arms around her and gave her a big hug and said; "I love you. I don't say that often enough."

She laughed; "I'm not sure you've ever said it. Maybe I ought to leave you alone more often."

"I got nervous when I heard gunshots."

"I saw two hunters. But, the hell with them. Let me tell you about the great bird that I saw at the river."

She recounted the story. He half-listened silently. When she finished he said he wanted to do some more flowers, but she said; "Those things are beginning to pile up. We've got to try to get rid of some."

He really didn't want to hear that, but knew she was right. "Yeah, I can make some pots and glue the tins to them. But, I've got a new problem. Where do I try to sell them? No one walks by here, like they did at my parents' house."

"I've already thought about that. We've got to get a place in town."

"I really don't want to move out of here."

"No, I mean just getting a little studio or something."

"Sounds fine. Can we afford it?"

"Yeah, probably, I have my ways. Why don't you get going on the pots and I'll see what I can arrange."

She changed into warmer clothes and covered them with a calf length black cape. He looked at her as he had not previously seen the outfit and was impressed.

He said; "That looks ominous."

"I was hoping it looked sophisticated and maybe French."

"Why French?"

"People respect them. They often complain about ones they've never met, but they'd all secretly like to switch places."

When she returned she was excited and burst into the house saying; "I got the best of both worlds. I got someone to stock them in their store and sell them for us. We don't have to pay any rent. See how well my French act works?"

"What store?"

"The general store, which is great, because it gets the most traffic. The economy, being what it is, leaves the owners with lots of empty space to fill."

For the next few days D painted and started using more bright colors. Orpheus did the pots and the gluing and they were a perfectly efficient team in business.

Aazaziel was unsettled and didn't understand why. At low points he viewed himself as being out of business, or on vacation and not enjoying it. At more optimistic moments he fancied himself the protagonist of the dis-ease being experienced by the good people of Sudbury. He had little doubt that he had done his work well and had recently been the cause of a good amount of discontent, meritorious of a well-deserved break, but he was artistically stymied. He spent his days staring at the blank canvas or looking out the window, hoping for inspiration and smoking a lot of cigarettes. Nature didn't tell him any story, at least not one he was capable of comprehending.

He considered getting some beer, but decided that would probably inspire him to paint a barbeque and it was a bit cold for that. "Damn it, this used to be so easy. What changed everything?" He didn't recognize any difference, but thought it was a good thing to think about from as many directions as possible. It was kind of central to everything.

After much cogitation, the brightest idea he got was that the season had changed. He had advanced. Now, the next questions were, "So what?" and "To what?"

### Chapter 18- An Uneasy Truce and Business Almost as Usual

Eurydice was enjoying her trip. By February the trio was in Indiana and she was regularly taking the reins. She continually glanced at the horses, amazed at their size, yet so easily guided. Raven and Hawk were similar in girth and somehow always managed to be in step. Raven seemed to have been simply and appropriately named. She was all black. Hawk, on the other hand, must have obtained his moniker from someone who didn't know him. Eurydice couldn't see anything hawk-like in his behavior or looks. Maybe it was some kind of wishful thinking generated by his first owner. Maybe it was the sense of humor that calls the big guy "Tiny." Who cares, anyway? Now she could name them anything she chose.

She would consider the words intrepid, graceful and beautiful. She was impressed how they handled the climate change without any complaint or change in attitudes. They just went on. Indiana winters are damn cold and snowy, but the couple showed no signs of noticing. Maybe they were built better than humans. Horses have been the subject of painting since men drew in caves. Various demeanors and stages of their lives have been represented.

Eurydice was in a daydream. Like the horses she disregarded the weather and she thought about sex. Orpheus should be here right now priming the primitive perceptor of the paranormal.

Her father noticed her far-away look and interrupted her reverie, by saying; "Eurydice, are you paying attention to what you're doing?"

Though jolted back to reality, she calmly said; "Kind of. I was thinking about the horses and I want to rename them."

Her father said; "Well, they're ours now. I suppose you can. But, watch the road a little bit."

"I'm doing that much. How about changing Raven to Dauntless and Hawk to Gallant?"

"Aren't they kind of the same thing?"

"In some ways yes, but I think of Dauntless something like 'nothing's going to stop me' and Gallant as having something to do with chivalry."

"All right. Let's use those names. I hope we don't confuse them."

"Maybe they know their right names and don't pay much attention to what we call them, anyway."

The journey continued to be a placid one, affording ample time for further reflection, necessary after the family's recent experiences. They saw other wagons going east on the wide dirt path and exchanged warnings about road hazards, like fallen trees, flooding and ice. The practical discussions were of little significance, since with or without warning; it was fairly easy to see the hazards plainly. The desirability of the conversation was probably only useful in their need to periodically make contact with other human beings.

The Christophers experienced an upsurge in their nail business and it proved to be the correct decision to have been made when Mr. Christopher bought the large quantity of iron as now prices were rising. In the aftermath of the Paul departure and maybe in particular in the absence of Eurydice, people again returned to a way of life they had always known with one exception. Fences and gates were growing all over the north and west. It was common knowledge that Orpheus didn't live with his parents any more, more appropriately finding a classy white woman to replace the forbidden black one. Perhaps they were able to forgive a youthful indiscretion, especially after the indiscrete ones were a thousand miles apart.

The fire at the white school was contained in one room. After the black crowd hurriedly passed them by, the horses settled down and were able to pull the fire wagons out of the ditches and continue the short distance to the site. Flames were doused expeditiously. Since the black school was church property, it was up to the insured church to repair it, but they had no interest in the money losing operation. White people never said it in company and perhaps were uncomfortable in saying it to themselves, but all were quite happy that the daily black procession through their neighborhoods was over. They no longer even had to tolerate a Sunday constitutional. The entire messy affair caused little disruption in the white learning process. The white school remained utilized while the small damaged part was being repaired. The fences springing up, resulted in an increased demand for labor and materials and caused some jubilation on both sides of the river, benefitting both labor and entrepreneurial interests.

Whites generally felt that the small fire was a reasonable price to be paid for the destruction of the black school, especially when they considered the other more dire possibilities of the time. They just assumed, without question, that a white person was responsible and, exhibiting an improvement over most prognostications, this time they were half right. They nervously hoped that this was the end and that no black radical decided to start his own guerilla war.

Blacks had a slightly different viewpoint on the surface tranquility, but confined it to sporadic terse rhetoric only. They weren't inclined to do anything except make disgruntled comments to each other. They feared the possibility of retribution in the current environment and most felt that, all in all, they were merely back in the same situation that existed before organized religion brought them "progress." A few missed the schooling opportunity for their kids, but were glad to see that post hole digging work had returned to the area, perhaps more than ever before. They were well accustomed to and had generations of experience in dealing with similar situations and hoped no white guerrilla warrior took matters into his own hands. They knew that he would operate with impunity. Same old shit. The white school is good as new and there are complications regarding the black one, resulting in its perennial existence in ashes. They also assumed a protected white person was responsible and they, too, enhanced their prior abilities to guess, as they were half right. Roscoe was as elated as was possible for a lifetime malcontent, as he joyously experienced an upsurge in his earthly sacramental business.

Joe McCready was able to get Pokey all the bales of hay he could eat and called out his early morning cheerful greetings. The good old days were almost back. Who was dumb enough to soy that; "You can never go home again."

The Christophers were hoping for a visit from their industrious son, but realized that he was busy getting a commercial operation going, with the help of a new woman friend they'd very much like to meet. They were proud that Orpheus and D's works were prominently displayed in the general store and even prouder that people were buying the new improved flower pots.

Around Christmas Sybil Norn paid a week-long visit to her escape property. Orpheus answered the door and saw the trim, fiftyish, graying owner of the property. He said; "Merry Christmas."

She returned the greeting and walked in, taking off her deep blue, hooded winter shroud, exposing a dignified simple black dress with a white collar. She saw D and said; "Don't I know you?"

D said; "I don't think so. My name is D. Pleased to meet you."

Sybil responded with a brief soft handshake, saying; "I'm Sybil. I could swear I've seen you somewhere."

Orpheus wanted to deflect that line of conversation and said; "Let's sit down," leading everyone to the kitchen table. "Can I get you something?"

Sybil said; "Tea would be very good."

As they sat at the table, sipping, Sybil said; "D, what is your last name?"

D didn't take the time to think of an appropriate response to the curious lady and said; "I don't have use for one." She immediately realized that she should have made up anything.

Sybil eyed her and after a lull D stood up and said; "I have to leave now. I'm Orpheus's business partner and confidante and I have some details to tend to."

D donned her own black winter cape and said; "Good day," and "Orpheus, I'll be in touch."

Sybil rose and said; "Good day." When the door shut, she looked at Orpheus and said; "Is Eurydice around?"

"No, she's nowhere near here. We had some problems and she left."

Sybil facetiously asked; "Is she among the living?"

He thought that was a very strange question, but remembered that Sybil had twice said that she knew their story. He said; "As far as I know. She and her family went west."

Sybil was surprised at the answer and said; "Weird."

"Very."

Sybil saw the painted tins and pots all over the kitchen floor and said; "I see you've been working hard."

"D and I both have."

"She paints, too?"

"Yes, very well, I think. She likes dark colors."

"So, she spends a lot of time here?"

"We both do." Recalling the arrangement they had previously agreed to regarding the property, Orpheus added; "I can stay with my parents a few days, if you'd like. Do you know how long you'll be here?"

She smiled at him and put one of her hands briefly over his and said; "Please, feel free to stay. I'll enjoy the company, as long as you're quiet." She went to a bookcase and retrieved " _The Magus"_ , a two volume book on occultism, written in 1801. She sat back down and perused it, while he painted.

Sybil took her time with the book, spending a good hour with the illustrations and names, finding nothing to give her any hints about D. She compared the dark flowers on tin to the book, to no avail. She broke the silence and said; "Orpheus, where did you meet D?"

He thought that the truthful answer was amusing, so he said; "She showed up in my bedroom."

"Did someone let her in?"

"No." He paused as Sybil looked curiously at him and then added; "At least not that I know of."

"And through your bedroom discussions she started painting with you?"

"Not only that. She made the business arrangements to sell them."

She went looking for a book about the devil when she heard; "Seasons greetings." It was Aazaziel dressed impeccably and dandyish in loose tan pants, a light blue dress shirt and a white knit scarf tied around his neck.

Sybil looked at Orpheus and disapprovingly questioned; "Another friend of yours?"

Orpheus audibly exhaled and said to Sybil: "No, I'm tired of this jerk. He just shows up whenever he feels like it."

Aazaziel play winced and sarcastically said; "Pity me. I've always depended on the hospitality of the good people. It's really so, so sad."

Orpheus tiredly said to Aazaziel: "So what blessing are you going to bestow on me today?"

Aazaziel responded with a short false smile and in an upbeat tone said; "Sorry to disturb your tête-à-tête with the nun, but I'm excited about something."

Sybil looked at the floor and said to Aazaziel: "And I suppose we're going to be the lucky ones to see and hear it."

Aazaziel: "I'm going to ignore that. I know it's just a jealous streak. Many great artists were not popular in their time. Their rejection and suffering produced things unique and their useless, disparaging heirs reaped the rewards."

Orpheus pointed out something he thought Aazaziel may have momentarily forgotten; "There were even more artists not popular in their time, who never became popular in any other." He appropriately smiled, making the commentary, which could be interpreted in differing ways almost suitable.

Continuing the polite disparagement Sybil told Aazaziel: "I've never known you to ignore commerciality."

Instead of continuing the playful banal observation charade Aazaziel went right at what he considered the truth; "Well, I can see everyone's in a vicious mood today. But, despite the poor manners, I'm going to let the two of you have the first viewing. I've been working on the concept that "less is more." He retrieved a canvas he had somewhere in his baggy pants and sat it on a chair.

Sybil observed the blank canvas and said; "Are you sure you brought the right masterpiece?"

Orpheus added; "I think I get it. You used invisible paint."

Aazaziel disgustedly said; "Neanderthals. It says nothing. How like a god."

Orpheus finished the thought with; "Also like a retard."

Sybil laughed and Aazaziel feigned looking crushed. He said; "No, retards make noise, just like you. Maybe next time I'll do an insipid poor imitation of a pretty flower. I'm going."

Sybil acted horrified and said; "You're not leaving that here, are you?"

Aazaziel her with; "Sure, I made duplicates."

Orpheus couldn't help but make one more comment and said; "Aren't you at least going to sign it? I wouldn't want to confuse it with the vision of a blind man."

Aazaziel directed his response mostly to Orpheus; "You're the blind man. In your own interest you really should encourage me. When I engage my artistic sensibilities, I don't think about improvements I can make in your life." He sarcastically smiled and vanished.

Sybil said; "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to join you in painting."

Orpheus smiled at her knowingly and said; "I wouldn't mind in the least."

She put the blank canvas on the floor and over the next few hours produced a primitive painting of a nude black man with a golden crown of thorns, nailed to a rainbow colored dollar sign.

She said; "What do you think?"

Orpheus replied; "I like it a lot. It may be good for hanging in a church, if you add a loincloth."

"Aah and only the first try."

Roscoe sat in front of his two room shack, feeling too well to be bothered plotting any revenge against Judge Caprice. Initially he considered a way to make the Judge's responsibility for the arson known surreptitiously. But after the demise of the church and school he was again busy being mystic and herbsman to his returned flock and liked the "lucrative" status quo.

Elvira walked by his house and saw him outside with a group of five teenaged boys. She yelled out; "You old heathen." Roscoe turned his back to her, lowered his pants, bent over and showed her his ass. The boys found that hysterical.

### Chapter 19- Western Nod

Eurydice's band had the good fortune to pass through the Chicago area in spring and the bad fortune to encounter summer while going south through Kansas and a little bit of Texas, before arriving in New Mexico in July. She was already accustomed to seeing Indians, Spanish people, white people in gigantic silly hats and flat roofed adobe houses, but was pleasantly surprised to see Albuquerque surrounded by mountains. She thought she had seen some before, but they were eastern hills. The Sangre de Cristo's and Manzano's rocky sides impressed her enough to give the reins back to her father, so that she could safely stare at the treeless rocks baking in the sun, fantasizing about climbing them. She looked for paths up and thought she saw some possibilities, but even if she was right, they appeared to result in dead ends.

It made no difference that the heat was dry, the ninety-five degree plus temperatures made it difficult to sit in the sun, so they reversed the modus operandi the last few days and slept away the bright hours, moving in the dark, Dauntless and Gallant earning their calling cards. They got to their destination at 3 AM and in the light of the full moon were impressed at the size and layout of their new eight-room home. While roughly average for a Massachusetts house, it was bigger than most of the ones they had seen in New Mexico, Reverend Paul immediately recognizing the potential of lording it over the surrounding countryside. It was "U" shaped if U's chose to flatten out their curve, the single story structure having four railroad rooms facing three railroad rooms connected at one end by another. In the center were brick walkways, forgotten gardens, benches and dry water fountains.

They worked until sunrise unloading their transported possessions into the already furnished house, deciding who would sleep where. It was too dark and they were too tired to take more than a glancing look at their new temporary property, but could not ignore that one room was set up as a place of worship, with a small altar and a large crucifix. They thought that this must have had something to do with the church ownership and it may have, but they later learned that this was not the least bit unusual in their new surroundings. Reverend James and Ruth Paul took a room right next to his new place of power. There were four rooms in their chosen wing; so Eurydice crossed the browned out gardens and took her place in her very own little wing.

Morning light came through the one window of the small brick floored room. She saw that she had a simple single bed whose only decoration was a square spindled headboard bearing a light, faded tan stain. It rested under a rug hanging on the white stuccoed wall comprised of stripes of varying sizes and browning colors. Round beams supported a ceiling of planks, also primarily tan, but marked with deep brown streaks, evidencing, what she hoped were prior leaks. Behind the headboard was a simple hinged box, busy with faded paint, the prominent motif being two white birds sitting on opposing sides of a yellow chalice. The birds looked confused, with their heads turned around and away from each other, trying to see something that was not in the black background. The central piece was a small trastero, the seemingly obligatory tan; with two three paneled doors, the upper two panels affording a view of the upper shelved contents through spindles. She would later learn that this was usually indicative of a kitchen based trastero, used for holding food. One small wooden chair devoid of design, with no arms and two rectangular slats attached to plain rails for a back completed the transitory floor decor. One corner possessed a small rounded kiva fireplace, but with a flat top holding painted wooden religious figurines, as did a niche on one wall. There was a small painting dominated by huge yellow streamers on the border, leaving a tiny human figure of indeterminate sex at the center. His or her arms reached out and up to the sky, perhaps dwarfed and blinded by the light.

She liked the room and would like it even better when she could transport the religious paraphernalia elsewhere. She was not yet certain if the painting qualified. One entire room devoted to religious worship was quite enough for her tastes, the redundancy overbearing a room home to interests associated with this earth, exemplified best by the tiny trastero.

The rest of the house was not very different in overall feel; that of old Spanish design probably executed by someone who didn't make a living as a cabinet maker, incorporating some Indian details. She learned over the next few days that the house's initial appearance of enormity was a false one, as the hallway took their toll on living areas. They ran the length of the house, ostensibly so that one wouldn't have to go through one room to get to another. She considered this a waste of space as the same thing could be accomplished using the outside brick walkways, without putting one side unnecessarily and perennially in the dark.

She met her parents in the kitchen, using the circuitous hallway rather than cutting across the garden to get there. She said; "Well, how do you like it?"

Ruth sighed a bit; "It's not exactly Boston."

James laughed; "It's not even Sudbury."

Ruth said; "Where did this furniture come from, somebody's barn?"

Eurydice said in mocking falsetto; "Ooh, just imagine if the Sudbury elite could see me devoid of maid and Chippendale."

Ruth playfully went at her daughter, raised one arm, threatening a head slap, but, stopped short and laughed, saying; "It's going to take some getting used to."

James didn't say anything, but found his wife more than a little silly, as when they met, his wife would not have known Chippendale from early cheap hotel. He seriously wished that this would not become a constant refrain. He hoped she would laugh when he said; "Oh, Ruth, you're just going to have to develop an appreciation for folk art."

She didn't. She said; "Okay, I see you're both going to gang up on me."

Eurydice tried to end the conversation with; "Everything is so different and new......"

Ruth cut her off; "Ain't nothing here new."

Eurydice smiled and finished her thought; "Give it at least a week before you dismiss it as garbage."

In time the Reverend took to the place, maybe because he was able to find forty lost souls looking for spiritual guidance, his flock being multi-racial, predominantly middle aged women, with enough money to adequately support the church. Ruth learned to tolerate the décor, maybe even got to like the casual "I don't give a damn" feel. She occasionally fretted about her husband's consuming interest in his parishioners' priority private problems, which necessitated special counseling at their homes.

Eurydice took long walks in the woods by the Rio Grande in warm weather and the sandy foothills of the Sangre de Cristo's in the long winters. Snow rarely covered the paths and when it did, it was only an inch deep, removed entirely by the afternoon sun. She met numerous guys around her own age, who seemed to coincidently pop out whenever she arrived. Conversations were uninteresting. When they were told that she had finished high school and attended college in Europe, they got even quieter than they were by nature. In an effort to say nothing stupid they said nothing at all and made it sound like some virtue. They pointed out the temperatures, the winds and the many points of local interest like the boulder which sat on top of another half its size.

She eventually decided to change her usual verbose speaking pattern, as the brilliant conversationalists just looked at her as if she had just said something completely asinine, which was distinctly possible, or acted as if the commentary was obvious common knowledge and need not be said, or said "What's the point. I don't get it." That was their most revealing insight. She started to talk only as much as they did and concentrated on the wonderful weather. This seemed to disturb many, having gotten used to the entertainment formerly provided and missing the ability to play uninformed critic, with no material of their own. She started to vary her walking times, hoping that she wouldn't have to see and share the same old boring near silence. If there was to be absolute quiet, she didn't need to suffer anyone's commentary to obtain it. They adjusted to her. They still managed to be there just when she was and regularly got on her particular path, to inform her that they were extremely busy and had to go. She thought that their degree of busyness was obvious, but relished their having to go. She wished they just went without having to tell her about it. She spent warm afternoons establishing a garden at home, between the two wings, where one existed years ago. It was a lot of work, but it filled her time. She changed her mind often after seeing the mature results of what she incorrectly visualized when she planted the seeds. Watering was a time consuming project in itself. She considered establishing a ditch watering system as she had seen in larger scale on Albuquerque farms, but considered it ugly, the straight lines reminding her of some math problem of years past.

She started to have dreams of death, her own. Sometimes she was lying in a coffin unable to move or speak. She dismissed these as mere poetic representations of her life, or the lack thereof in her new quarters. In others she was being eaten alive by wild animals she encountered at the river and foothills. This, too, was not particularly disturbing, as she could make varying interpretations to keep her mind occupied. When she got the one about being in an open box, six feet under, with grinning white men shoveling dirt on her, she started to get tired of the entire channel.

She commenced thinking about Massachusetts before retiring; the green hills, the trees, the abundance of rivers, lakes and streams, the old clapboard and stone houses and the flowers that grew of their own volition, without the aid of a watering system, because it rained more than eight inches a year.

The more temperate climate attracted her and she inevitably thought of Orpheus. She wondered if he was having a good time there with the white witch. While she couldn't firmly say that she was sorry for leaving him, she was near saying that she was sorry for where she had gone; a place of the dead, many still walking. She started to dream of the east, sometimes cemeteries, but she took solace in the fact that at least the dead were buried. She soon settled into a disturbing recurrent one. While she's alone in the woods, she is run over by a black horseless carriage, driven by a white woman dressed in black, grinning as she holds a whip for the non-existent horses.

One day her father wanted to have a serious conversation with her. He started by saying; "Eurydice, soon you'll be twenty-three."

"I'm aware of that."

"So, what are you doing with your life?"

"Gardening.... walking...."

He cut her off; "A lot of nothing."

She nodded agreement; "A lot of nothing."

"There aren't many options open to an unmarried older woman."

"Older? I'm still only twenty-two."

"Most girls your age are married with children, or enter training to be a nun."

She laughed and said; "I'll opt for married with children. But, I can't imagine hooking up with any of the guys I've met here."

"You still think you can afford to be picky?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm telling you that you can't."

"Then let me go back to school in Europe."

"We can't afford that anymore." He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes, adding; "But, I've got a guy for you."

"Who?"

"He's the son of another Albuquerque minister. His father thinks it's time he married."

"Whoa, whoa. Married?"

"Yes."

"Is he religious?"

"Yes and I told his father that you were, too."

She rolled her eyes; "Is he black?"

"Yes and that's all for the questions. You'll be meeting him here Friday night. His name is Isaiah Tamersly."

"What if I say no? I can live or do something like it right here, can't I."

He looked at her sternly, but also lovingly. Again taking her by the shoulders he said; "There is no way that I'm going to sit here and watch my beautiful little girl turn into an old maid."

Eurydice reluctantly accepted what seemed inevitable. She spent the next two days sitting by her garden, but not touching or watering it. She saw the wildflowers creeping their way into the domesticated varieties and was amazed at their ability to adapt and thrive in soils not designed for their benefit. Without killing off their delicate brethren they filled in the empty spaces, seemingly without much thought or planning. When they encountered each other they competed for the sunlight by trying to rise above their neighbor, touching each other at the base. Eurydice wondered what would happen to the cultured quiet loners when and if they were forced to make it in perennial shade. The reverie was only a very temporary escape as thoughts of a religious Isaiah and what sounded like a near betrothal quickly returned to dominate her mind.

The big day came and Ruth helped Eurydice pick out proper attire, settling on a simple light blue dress ending midway between the ankle and knee. The top had huge black buttons to the neck. Her usually free long straight black hair was pulled back and held in place by a pink beret, deviating the normal path and necessitating a pinned bun in the back. Eurydice didn't like it at all, but didn't care enough to put up any argument. She looked in the mirror and saw a face she considered too big, round and tortured. She thought; "Perfect for the occasion."

Isaiah arrived with his mother and father wearing a tight light yellow shirt which covered an underlying white shirt, exposed from the shoulder, ending in ruffles. His matching pants cut off just below the knee revealing the white leggings below. Upon introduction he kissed Eurydice's right hand and presented her with a grouping of five cut and slightly wilting blue flowers with long stems. She thanked him and put them in a vase adding water.

Dinner was appropriate and polite with the men making idle chatter about church operations in Albuquerque, which they pretended was quite amusing. The women were quiet and when Eurydice looked at Isaiah she saw a contented, assured light brown skinned man of twenty-five with a well maintained mustache and short beard. When he looked up, meeting her gaze, she would look away. He would sneak peeks at her, probably assessing and analyzing. When their eyes met she would properly re-focus on her plate. They orthodoxly ate dinner with careful attention paid to the appropriate utensils and topped it off with glasses of wine, Eurydice the only participant to pick a prime parcel of the only available white hue.

James surveyed the table and stood when he saw that everyone had finished, the others following suit. He ceremoniously ushered everyone into the adjoining room. He looked at Eurydice and Isaiah, saying; "You two probably have a lot to talk about." She held back her laugh and James led them to the garden door, guided them out and closed it behind him. She felt trapped.

She sat on a wooden bench. Isaiah first tested it with a wet forefinger and decided to remain standing. He said; "How long have you been in Albuquerque?"

"A few years now."

"I was born here. How do you like our quiet enclave?"

She bristled a bit at the word "our," and rather than giving him her assessment, merely responded with; "It grows on you," thinking "like a vaginal infection."

"You're from the East Coast?"

"The east, yes, but not the coast."

"I've never seen the ocean. People here say that it would be perfection if the Pacific would come to our door."

She was incredulous. She never entertained such a thought and couldn't understand anyone else conjuring up anything like it. She, sheepishly, just smiled or grimaced, not sure which was perceived and said; "Let me show you my garden. I've been working on it for years." She stood up and pointed out some of the things she considered finer points. She noticed his discerning eyes, topped by a wrinkled brow. Despite the expected answer she wanted to ask the question anyway. After he quietly surveyed for a minute, not changing his expression, she said; "How do you like it?"

He thought that she was showing complete disregard for his cultured tastes by first showing and then asking him to like something that to him, looked as if it were dying from lack of attention. He blinked his eyes a few times and said in an incredulous tone; "The wildflowers have taken over the entirety of the garden." He looked at her with wide, questioning, insulted eyes.

She wasn't the least bit surprised at the response. It gave her the final definitive answer to what she had previously expected and the rest of the disjointed, pointless conversation proceeded to test the bounds of tedium and disinterest. It could be seen by both that the rest of the party was about to converge on them and in a final attempt to salvage something from this rendezvous, he had one more statement that he was compelled to make. He intended it to sound egalitarian, indulgent and merciful, though it arose from surprise and desperation. He touchingly said; "Eurydice. I can have any black girl around here that I want. Quite frankly most guys aren't interested in you because you're 'used merchandise.' I want you to know that doesn't bother me."

She looked straight at him and from the look on his face, it appeared to her that the statement had emanated from something he considered kindness. He wasn't sure if she wanted to thank him for nothing, laugh, or tell him where to go. Fortunately, she was saved the dilemma when the rest of the party entered the garden and her father called out; "I hope we're not interrupting anything, or maybe I should say I hope we are." Polite chuckles were in order, but the two central figures were not participants.

Eurydice sought to break away from an overdose of "reality" and viewed the dusk sky. Small, friendly, cumulous clouds appeared, taking only a small share of it. Their pink hue was caused by the brilliance of the declining sun, now invisible to her, behind a mountain range. Two of the clouds were shaped as thin, straight lines and at first seemed to be parallel to each other. Eurydice focused on them and saw that they were not parallel at all. If they extended themselves, just a bit, they would shortly meet.

After the guests left, Reverend James asked his daughter; "How did it go?"

"It was a mistake. I think we're from different planets."

"Oh, no. It can't be that bad. Come on."

"No, we don't get along at all. He even started quoting the bible at me."

"What did he say?"

"Oh, some crap about wild grapes."

The Reverend had to smile at that, but continued; "It probably had more to do with sour grapes. You know, Eurydice, I love you, this is the real world and you don't have a lot of good choices. You can't sit back and wait for perfection to come to you."

Her eyes and sigh acknowledged the truth of that statement. "I'd just like to go to my room."

He said; "I understand, but this discourse is going to be continued."

She got to her room, took off her dress and untied her long hair. She collapsed into the single bed, sobbing and thinking about Orpheus.

Ruth was doing some post-party straightening up and when she passed her daughter's closed door, she heard Eurydice's cries. She knew what it was all about and felt a sad emptiness. Her daughter had never been one to ask her advice. Her daughter had never been one to ask anyone's advice and the few times she listened to anything, it had been the voice of her father. Fully expecting to be dismissed and accomplish nothing, Ruth had to see her daughter right now, or it would be never.

Ruth made three gentle raps on Eurydice's door and softly called her name.

Eurydice was still in the middle of a good cry, didn't want to interrupt it and also didn't want to be seen in such a sorry state. She stifled her tears enough to say; "Mom, it's been a long night and I need some sleep."

Ruth replied; "Well, obviously you're not asleep yet, so let me keep you up another five minutes." She opened the door and saw Eurydice sitting at the edge of the bed, her head bent and her eyes on the floor. Ruth sat to Eurydice's right and enclosed her daughter's right hand in her left.

Eurydice was now composed on the surface, but still wanted to get back to her cry and snappily said; "What kind of advice are you going to give me now? You never had anything to say before."

Ruth squeezed her hand, sighed, smiled and replied; "No advice. Somebody's got to be the quiet one in this house and I seem to have been elected that a long time ago."

Eurydice's countenance softened. She pulled her hand away from her mother, took a huge handkerchief from her pocket, used both hands to wipe at her eyes and then blew her nose, with the sound of a duck quacking. She made a small laugh and eyed her mother's warm, concerned smile. She placed her right hand back on her mother's left, half laughed and half cried; "Why are men so god damn stupid?"

Ruth thought a moment and said; "I don't know, girl. There seems to be some kind of way that they're different from us, but I don't have any words to put on it. You can hear it when they talk, though." She paused, laughed and added; "That's probably why some of them play the strong silent type. Keep your mouth shut and appear the fool, open your mouth and remove all doubt."

Eurydice smiled and asked; "Was Dad the strong silent type."

Ruth jokingly and furiously shook her head from side to side; "No, no, no. Baby girl, you should have seen him in those days; always having something to say about whatever was going on."

Eurydice smiled and said; "I didn't have to see him in the old days. He's still that way now."

"Yeah, he just had the sense to find himself a job that paid you to run your mouth. There aren't a lot of those. But, I mean physically, too. He had a full head of hair then and strutted around the place like he owned it. Lots of girls liked him. You know we girls got a special place in our hearts for guys who are confidently good with their mouths."

Eurydice's head bobbed as she looked at her mother looking at her. She said; "What made you fall in love with him?"

"That's so easy; I'm surprised a bright girl like you had to ask. It was obvious to see that he had a good, kind heart." She paused again, then added; "Lots of guys don't. The real question is why he fell in love with me. He didn't have many problems in hooking up with girls and I figured what kind of a chance would pitiful, little me have, so initially I didn't pay him a lot of attention." Ruth looked at the floor and paused again. She then said; "Maybe that's what he liked. At some point guys don't make any sense to me. You'd have to ask him and I'll bet he wouldn't be able to explain it either."

"How did you learn to tolerate the religion stuff?"

"Gee, we should have talked before. When he was young, James didn't have one use for anybody's religion. You hear me? Like I said, I just think at some point he discovered that he could make a living doing what he liked best; running his mouth."

Eurydice wrinkled her brow and asked; "So he is not a believer?"

Ruth shrugged her shoulders, thought a second and answered; "Like most of us, sometimes he believes and sometimes he doesn't. I'll tell you one thing he never believed is that "Lilies of the Field" story. That's just a prescription for hunger and poverty, at least as its most commonly interpreted. That's why the school was more important to him than the church. Things just seem to come as a package deal in this day and age. I know when it burned down it broke his heart, but he'll never show it. Guys are really weird."

Eurydice's tears uncontrollably returned and through them she cried; "Sure are. Orpheus has a good heart and I think that he does love me, but that doesn't stop him from being open to other female attention, damn him."

Mom considered things a moment and then said; "Don't you dare ever tell your father I said this. I told you that he's got a good heart, but this seems to be some kind of by-product: When he ministers to the female members of his parish and hears their troubles, his good heart goes out to them. Problem is step two, when something else goes out to them. I should tell you this. When I first started to have feelings, I couldn't wait to get started. You know what I'm saying?"

Eurydice understood well enough, but couldn't or didn't want to think of her mother that way. She plaintively said; "Mom."

"Mom, nothing. We're all alike in some ways, men AND women. When I was fifteen I met a boy the same age, who I liked and thought that he liked me, too. We carried on one evening and you know what that little asshole did?" She didn't wait for a reply and continued; "Jerk told his father and his friends all about it. Next thing I knew the little boys would show me their thingies whenever I was near them and his father tried to rape me."

Eurydice winced.

Mom said; "Not to worry. I could always take care of myself. Point is, though, some men's hearts are blacker than the two of us put together. It was unpleasant for a while, but my Mom, somehow figured out what was going on and got my father to move to a different neighborhood in Boston. I learned to be more judicious. Problem is men don't wear their hearts on their sleeves. You have to guess. When I got to know your father better I was pretty sure that he had a good one and for my money, when you find one like that, stick with him. You can never be one hundred percent sure, but your instincts tell you that Orpheus is one of the good ones, don't they?"

Eurydice laughed; "Yeah. I guess that there are some things men will never be able to explain to women and vice-versa. Maybe that's the attraction."

"Maybe, but don't tell your father what I told you. He probably suspects that I know about him and feels guilty about it. I want him to stay that way, in the hope that it will decrease the frequency."

Eurydice was confused and asked; "So, what do we do with these good hearted cavemen?"

Ruth sighed and said; "Love them the same way they love us. What does that mean, you correctly ask? I don't really know, but I can tell you this: The god damn thing about life is that if you wait until you know how to do it, the time to do it has long passed. Our brains still have very severe limitations. Follow your heart."

Ruth saw Eurydice looking into her eyes with a combination of surprise, respect and a desire to hear more. She let go of her daughter's hand, put her arms around her, kissed her cheek and stood up. She laughed and said; "One preacher in this house is more than enough. I'm going to leave, because now I've told you everything I know. You've got some thinking to do. Good luck. I love you, little girl." She left, shutting the door quietly behind her, without looking back.

Eurydice called out; "I love you, too, Mom," not certain if she was heard. She lay back down on the bed, her face nestled against her pillow. As she closed her eyes, hoping to sleep, she thought; "Speak to me, heart."

She dreamed of a fenced summer field with foot high, extremely green grass. A long-haired, black, mixed breed female dog of about one hundred pounds came out of somewhere and lay in the middle of it. A group of five painfully thin and hungry coyotes came down the road, stopped at the fence and called sweetly to her. She wanted the company, but something unexplainable told her that there was danger. She looked at them and they again called her softly. She wanted to hide, but all the entire field contained was tall grass that would leave her somewhat exposed, no matter where she sat. She got very anxious, wished they would go away and wondered if they could get through the planked wooden fence. She frantically craned her neck around, searching for some type of escape and saw another dog come running. He was much like her, but white. He went to the fence and snarled at the coyotes, saliva dripping from his exposed fangs. The coyotes weren't particularly afraid of him, but they decided that they were better off trying to find easier prey elsewhere and ambled off the scene, occasionally glancing back. Each time they did Whitey barked and spit. After the coyotes were out of sight, he slowly walked to her, with his head to the ground, laid down a foot away and kept his eyes trained in the direction of the coyote departure. She watched his vigilance a few minutes and then moved next to him, laid down with her back cuddling against his left side and closed her eyes, confident that she was now safe.

### Chapter 20- Pleasant Days, Promotion and Her Test

Orpheus and D were busy counting their large cents. They started to accumulate as the tins formerly did, ten for one. It seemed that everyone in town had to add to their collection of flower pots. He liked to think that they appreciated the artwork that he and D were churning out. But, he also knew that they could just be reacting to the departure of Eurydice, or, most likely, they just wanted more flowers around.

Things were good. D didn't have to do any more business type of work. The biggest impediment to their luxurious day was when he had to truck a new load of pots over to the general store and pick up the money, interrupting their painting, playing and prophetic promises. He kept contentedly busy and would only get depressed thinking of Eurydice one day a week, always prompted by a dream. He loved D and told her so regularly. Still, he knew it was unfair to her to have these morose episodes regularly, as he thought she easily, but silently detected them. He wished he could forget Eurydice or get over her completely, to no avail.

It was ridiculous and annoying after years had gone by. He had gone through the entirety of the process six times, so he knew the pattern and after six times of reaching a point of no feeling for Eurydice but wishing her well, he would get attacked by another circuitous line of thinking, starting with; "But I miss her." It took until the fourth time around to recognize the pattern. He continually missed the escape point of the circle in which he was trapped and he'd have to go all the way around again. How could he find the particular puncture if he didn't know where it was or what it looked like? How could he be sure that it even existed?

D could, in fact, very easily detect his moods and had a few of her own. One of them was encapsulated in the phrase; "Why did I pick this one? I was Death. I could have had anyone I wanted. People will do anything to appease death." And eventually she would circle back to; "I didn't pick him. He was picked for me. Somebody is doing their best to make me miserable. Why? Irrelevant."

To help alleviate their mental machinations, the circus came to town for the first time in July. This was a very big thing for Sudburians, as now their town was considered an area of note; long green ones at any rate. After a parade through town the circus set up shop in the north, leasing land from an idle farmer. Orpheus and D took the half circular walk, first following the setting sun and then turning their backs to it. The show had already started by the time they got there. After watching some clowns, horse riders, fire eaters and a high wire family, they thought they saw people pointing at them from the other side of the arena. They looked back intently and sure enough, the people across the way were very interested in something very near them, if not them. He hoped that now they weren't after him for being an adulterer. D just shook her head in disgust and nervousness.

They were relieved when the attention ended and went back to applauding the catcher in the swing.

Orpheus felt a tap on his shoulder and heard; "Excuse me." He slowly turned to see a smiling short round man in black and white checkered pants, wide yellow suspenders and a shirt of deep green with a few circular designs in red, white and blue. His apprehension was somewhat alleviated seeing what he thought could have been a clown in his street garb.

The clown, playfully bowed and in a somewhat silly, high pitch, said; "Are you Orpheus Christopher?"

His apprehension made a quick comeback and he cautiously nodded, trying to make it seem somewhere between a yes and a no. D stared at him, motionless and unnerved. Both felt trouble or even arrest was a distinct possibility, until the man introduced himself. "I'm Trader Jackson. I own this place...... well, sort of. You're the couple who makes the pots, correct?"

D cautiously said; "We plead guilty."

T.J. looked skyward and enthusiastically said; "Great, I'm here to offer you the deal of a lifetime."

Orpheus stared blankly and warily, deciding to let D handle as much as possible of the ensuing conversation, in regard for her demonstrated business acumen.

D smiled politely and said; "What can you do for me; or to me, I'm not sure which."

T.J. said; "Though I run this circus, what I really am is a promoter. I guess I just like being around the festivity and the clowns......"

D interrupted to deadpan; "I know what you mean."

Orpheus gave her a mock insulted look and pinched her thigh.

T.J. continued; "I'm glad you two get along. When we went through town I saw that most every house has a few of your pots outside or in their windows. So, I made the brilliant deduction that people obviously like them, but there's a severe limit on how many can be sold in Sudbury." He paused to see reactions of grudging agreement and bobbling heads. He then continued; "We travel all over and I'd like to sell them elsewhere."

D got to the point quickly and said; "Do you pay cash up front?

T.J. somehow managed to still sound ebullient when he replied; "I wish I could."

D and O simultaneously groaned.

T.J. said; "It's not that bad. I'm really not interested in the pots. I can have them made anywhere. I just want the painted tins."

D widened her eyes a bit and said; "That's an interesting idea."

T.J. sensed possibility and said; "Yeah, I can have them attached to pots made wherever I am, or I might find other things to attach them to."

D again, diligently did the job she had won by default and said; "When do we get paid?"

T.J. was prepared after years of similar negotiations and confidently responded; "As soon as I do. Think about it a second. The tins don't cost much anything. Little paint is used and it doesn't take a lot of your time."

D looked at Orpheus: "I like it, unless you have any objections."

Orpheus asked T.J.; "How many do you want to take with you?"

T.J. plainly said; "As many as I can. They're easy to carry. When I need more, I'll send someone to pick them up with your money from the previous batch."

Orpheus and D had the same thought. They had about five hundred of them at the house. In two days of hard work, they could re-generate their inventory at minimal cost and this deal opened the possibility of a huge market. The couple nodded at each other with raised eyebrows as if to say "Why not?"

Orpheus shrugged and said to both people present; "No objections. Let's do it."

Arrangements were made. Trader Jackson said he would meet them at their house after the show and departed. They looked around and saw that they had become the center of attention in the immediate vicinity. People were smiling at them and Orpheus thought; "Everyone just watched us make a deal with a man we've never previously seen, dressed in checkered pants supported by yellow suspenders and we came away with no money........Ah, I don't care. I can always say that she was supposed to be the business expert." D saw the direction of his eyes and correctly surmised his thoughts. It wasn't hard for her as she had been around a long time and had probably seen most everything. They looked at each other, stuck out their lascivious tongues as far as they would go and simultaneously said; "So ******* what?"

In the ring a white faced clown with thick bright red lips, a bulbous pink nose and large eyes lined in black indicating tears jumped on the back of a performing horse in motion. He waved triumphantly to the crowd as he was quickly carried into a huge tent, to a standing ovation. They wondered who the clown was.

Later that night, the couple got very enthusiastic about the possible future. They might be able to do precisely what they want and not ever have to worry about money. How many can honestly say that? Orpheus attributed this to D. He did love her and if he had known her prior to meeting Eurydice, he probably would have considered the black princess nothing more than another pot customer. She left without even telling him or saying good-bye. Having to work for six months was such a burden for the privileged malcontent. Let her father or some other sucker put up with her moods. He wished he could retain this often experienced mindset for more than a couple of days. No matter the consistency or lack thereof, he promised himself that he would always have D's feelings foremost in his mind and would find some way to not advertise any depressed days to her. Now that he was paying full attention to the problem, the solution might be quite easy. Mix the blue with the red and revel in the purple.

In Massachusetts, the mature summer trees towered over the land, so densely packed that walking at a normal pace was impossible. The canopies blocked out any direct sunlight, but still, it was not dark. It was isolation and warmth at its best. There was no path to follow. Likely, few, if any, were here before. The syrupy yellow-green mildew on the trunks seemed more of an attractive decoration than any kind of blight. When she approached a clearing she saw Orpheus with a vaguely familiar white woman. She wasn't surprised as she really didn't expect that he would live his life alone just because she had left him. She stopped, not wanting to make her presence known and watched the lovers play, fantasizing that she was a part of the game.

Eurydice awoke from her new recurrent dream in the sparsely treed desert under the merciless beating of the angry sun. She had learned to call the place home and was now able to do it without having to simultaneously stifle tears. She wished she could again be with Orpheus. The feeling got stronger whenever her father arranged dates with religious fanatics, each thinking that they were the recipients of the correct laws directly from the source and worse, seeing that their life's mission was to impart this brilliance on those less enlightened; namely Eurydice Paul Christopher. They were just so, so good and by implication she was so in need of correction. She often thought to herself; "Bullshit. I know what they're really interested in. Cut the shit and just say it. I'm no different. Oh, **** all the hypocrites. I want Orpheus." Her father always acknowledged the absurdity to a certain degree and would then end the conversation with a consistent admonishment and what he must have considered practicality. She was getting older and it was high time to establish a normal life, under the protection and dictate of some guy with an economic future. She knew that she could appease everyone and appear to play the role and secretly look for what she desired elsewhere, but she simply didn't want to live a farce.

Every night she hugged her pillow, wishing it was Orpheus and when it set in solidly, that it wasn't, it got drenched. She thought of going back east, but that presented a number of practical problems. She didn't feel at all safe, especially as a female, to go two thousand miles alone and even if she could do it, Orpheus probably had established a new life for himself and didn't want her to be any part of it. Still, she would at least be out of this savage sun, even if she had to work at the bakery. With no good solution available, she thought more and more of suicide. There was only one thing she had control of and that was her ability to say a permanent "no" to everything she had no respect for. She spent an increasing amount of her days in this frame of mind, as she stopped walking around surrounded by "friendly interesting" people and stopped tending her garden. Though she always liked the wildflowers equally to the cultivated varieties, ever since Isaiah registered his disdain for them, she loved them with a passion. Her neglect allowed them to kill off the majority of the properly nurtured and trained ones. She pulled out the few hardy ones. Wildness reigned big, beautiful and supreme, at least in her garden. Every color of the rainbow, just add water, whenever the sky was so inclined.

As she watched the wildflowers, she didn't sense that she was being watched herself. Despite having grown accustomed to the regular surveillance performed in the fishbowl that is called Albuquerque, she foolishly thought that being in the center of a three-sided structure, which was solidly fenced on the fourth, that she euphemistically called home, afforded her some privacy.

She felt eyes on her. Her first thought was that it was her mother or father, but when she looked behind her she saw a very pale white woman wearing a thin opaque wrap tied over one shoulder. She was about twenty-five and exhibited very long curly red hair which flowed down her back to her buttocks. Her unique face was unadorned, her lips pursed and her blue eyes somewhat sad. After a quick once over, further inspection indicated that her most distinctive feature was her wide, meaty hips.

Eurydice said; "Who in hell are you?"

The woman politely said; "People call me various things. To you I'm the Spirit of the Forest, or Sofia. And as a small point of order; you probably have spent more time in hell than I have."

"What do you think of my garden?"

"Perfection."

"You're just being dismissive."

"No, I mean it. I've been watching its progress for some time."

"Thanks and thanks a lot. You're telling me that I've got another person watching me."

"I'll have to admit to that, sorry, but one small correction. 'Person' is not the right word."

"What is?"

"Sofia, I guess. But then that leads to more explanation. The word 'another' no longer applies, but that's getting very arcane." She laughed, putting her delicate right hand over her mouth and said; "Excuse me. That's my sense of humor. Nobody understands it. Never mind."

"So what do you want from my pitiful black ass?"

"I don't want anything. I'm here because you keep calling me in your dreams. I want to help."

"How do I know you're not the devil?"

"You can't know, but you have my word that I'm not. Believe me, I've heard your call and sympathize, but quite frankly, I'd like to get on with things and get back east. You do have a huge fault. You expect people to meet your standards of perfection, but you don't endeavor to meet theirs."

"Rightly so. I'm perfectly natural."

"That's the trap."

Eurydice thought about that a bit, saw its truth, envisioned the lengthy discussion it would necessitate and simply said; "All right. I'm glad you're here. How can you help me?"

"I know a way back east."

Eurydice recalled her vow of years prior when she said to herself; "I'll find a way back." She said; "Show me, I'll take it."

Sofia said; "Well, it's a little more difficult than that. You've been something less than an exemplary woman."

"I beg your pardon. You told me your name was Sofia, not Judge Caprice."

"I'm really not judging. The only ones engaged in judging, are by definition, too stupid to be qualified for the job. What I am saying, though, is that you've treated Orpheus terribly and you know it yourself. So you have to pass a little test. If you do, you're back in Sudbury."

Eurydice said; "You know that he wasn't exactly exemplary with me either."

"Yes, I know. But, he too, is human and I'm here with you now. Do you want the test or not?"

"What happens if I fail? Will I die?"

"There's no risk of physical death. But, you may see something in yourself that you can't live with. You might remain on the suicide track."

"So, no risk. Give me the test."

"All right. I'm going to offer you a number of precious things. You can either take one and remain here, or refuse all and be back in Sudbury with the chance that Orpheus may or may not want to see you."

Eurydice still thought that there was nothing to lose in trying the test, as she became certain that Orpheus would take her back, so nodded "Yes" slowly. Sofia picked up a small book that was previously unnoticed lying on the dirt under the wildflowers and opened it.

Sofia said; "You can have a good looking, wealthy husband who meets all of your specifications."

"That's a slave. I want a free man."

"You can be the prettiest woman in the world, desired by all men."

"I'm pretty enough. Prettiest is a value judgment and I'm already desired by all men. The only ones who don't desire me desire each other or themselves."

"You can have equality for all women."

"Your boss created them equal. Inequality comes from human treachery. Are you saying that you can change the free will of the many?"

"No. You can have any kind of sex you desire."

"I've already done that with Orpheus and if I get him back, I'll continue to."

"I will fulfill any wish you want."

"I know the trick. It's the fallacy of magic. I can get anything I want, but I never would be able to define what that is without specifying every detail ad nauseum. I could ask for one million dollars and get it at a time after inflation made anything below ten million poverty. I could ask to meet the man of my dreams and he could be the one to give me last rites. I could ask to meet the man of my dreams, now and he could die in two seconds. I could ask to meet the man of my dreams now and that he live to be one hundred. He could get leprosy in two seconds. It goes on and on. The only way to get your wishes is to live your life the way you want and try your best."

"Last offer, girl. I'm proud of you. That last one trips up most everyone. You can have eternal life."

Eurydice said; "That's the easiest rejection of all. I don't need it from you. I already have it from my mother and father."

Sofia smiled warmly looking into her eyes.

### Chapter 21- A New House

Eurydice was back in a summery Sudbury, in front of the house she used to live in, which was now empty. She tried the six paneled wainscotted front door and it easily opened. It was shocking. Someone had removed all the furniture, paintings and rugs. As she walked the wide pine floor, the sound of her steps was deafening, magnified a hundred times in the absolute silence and seeming increase in space. The absence of people was unsettling, especially since her memories of the place included constant laughing, arguing, eating and every other activity imaginable. She remembered her mother and father and was sorry that she didn't tell them that she was leaving Albuquerque, but everything had happened so quickly. She entered the kitchen and was happy to see that the floor to ceiling brick cooking fireplace and all its utensils was still intact.

She didn't explore the rest of the house, preferring to leave on a good note. She traversed the broken garden path which would have to be renamed, as no semblance of any garden remained; the once fertilized dirt now pushed up wild rosebushes. The plants were ninety percent stem; packed with razor thorns, topped with a few small white flowers. When their height exceeded two feet, they became top heavy and bent to the ground, bringing their razors with them, covering the walkway. The ashes of the school and church were washed away by the rains, leaving a grassy field of young three foot trees competing for sunlight, the ground still host to bricks and broken pieces of glass.

The humid, hot mid-morning was probably caused by the ominous dark, cottony clouds that covered much of the sky, an almost invisible sun straining to break free from where someone had hidden it. She went east down the main path heading for the dim orb. She saw a few people going about their daily business; clipping bushes, painting houses, feeding their horses; the usual display of the tranquil side of Sudbury. She thought; "I wonder if my presence will change all that?" She didn't know any of them and they all seemed too busy to take any notice of her. Either that or they made their presences known, merely in order to snub the black pariah, at the same time getting a good peek out of the corners of their jaundice colored eyes. Or, maybe she was not recognized and it has been some time since they had seen something black and forbidden on this side of town.

Whatever, the place exuded a calmer atmosphere than the one she left. She hoped that would stay that way. She didn't want to unintentionally bring back the excitement and chaos. She stopped at the river and watched it to discern that it was still flowing. It seemed higher and louder than she recalled it. She surmised that the storm clouds could have been here for some time doing their job, as she saw that the formerly boggy land on the east side was now under two or three feet of flowing water. She crossed the bridge and saw that it didn't match anymore. Many of the old boards had recently been replaced by fresh ones, their orange yellow lack of color standing out in contrast to their graying older neighbors.

She considered stopping at Lettie's to say "Hello" and primarily because Lettie always had a way of making her feel more confident. She could use all the confidence she could muster, as now that she was again here in Sudbury, ready to have the event of her life, she lost the certainty she had two thousand miles away and she knew that there was a good possibility that after all this time Orpheus might not want to see her. Persuasion could very well be the order of the day and she practiced swinging her hips. When she didn't see Lettie outside her house she decided not to stop and knock, not wanting to risk finding Malcolm instead.

She followed the path left and east at the "T" and entered the decaying woodland, which seemed no different than it was on her last visit. When the path turned right she continued straight, as always, establishing her own right of way.

Trader Jackson's representatives had been making regular weekly visits to the Orpheus and D residence, dropping off money and taking as many tins as were available. The two were extremely busy as they struggled to keep up with the messages received asking for increasing amounts. D's bleary eyes necessitated a break this overcast morning, so she went outside and sat on the ground, her back against the small house. Through the open gate she saw a figure approaching, a long haired black girl wearing a loose light blue summer dress. Eurydice! Everything was going so well, no change was desired. Time was of the essence, so she made a quick decision. She went back inside and looked out the window. She would tell Orpheus that someone was coming and when he looked at her she would vanish forever. She would say that she had no idea who it was and act sorry for a few days.

D said; "Somebody's coming."

Orpheus answered; "Oh no. I hope it's not another of Jackson's people. Somebody was just here the day before yesterday and we don't have that many tins." He joined D at the window and saw the figure approach. He could see that it was a long haired black girl, but he didn't recognize her as Eurydice. Maybe her gait had changed or maybe she had added a few pounds.

D didn't know what to think. She was almost certain that it was Eurydice, but if so, why wasn't she disappearing with Orpheus's eyes focused on her?

He walked outside to greet the traveler. When she came closer he recognized her, but too, wondered why she was still there sheepishly smiling at him. He concluded that since she didn't disappear and that he didn't want to risk resurrecting any old bones of contention, he wouldn't say anything about it to her. In his excitement he wanted to run to her.

But, he quickly thought. D had been very good to him and he loved her, fully accepting that he would never see Eurydice again and that was fine. But, here she was in the flesh and he couldn't stop his feelings from overtaking his logic and desire to be fair to D.

D could see the look in his face and reassessed, seeing the inevitable coming. She loved him and wanted him to be happy. If this made him happy, so be it. She had an eternity with him and the worst thing she could do was something that would cause him to stop loving her. In some lucky instances, feelings and logic go on the same path. She took a deep breath and walked outside.

By this time the couple were embracing and crying. D stood next to them and joined in. The trio shared lengthy physical contact; broke away and curiously looked at each other.

D thought; "She doesn't feel that bad and what the hell."

Eurydice thought; "I'm so glad to be back. I knew that there would be some changes and this woman, seems like she wants to be a friend. Not bad."

Orpheus had no idea of what was going through their minds and thought; "I hope they don't start smacking me."

He played the predominant, pilose, pulsating, pepper, periwinkle, palace portage for posterity, a prisoner of the precious, perspiring, powerful putaway, portentously pleading for plenty of propulsive precipitation.

He performed a pirouette, his persistent preferred path the pulpous, pale piazza, the picnicker possessing the potent princess present with a proficiency producing porridge, pelting the pituitous pot, permanently permeated.

After they gorged themselves and had seconds D carried the basket of meats and hirsute trimmings back to the house. Orpheus and Eurydice followed, holding hands and smiling, everyone at a loss for words.

The verbiage was quickly re-introduced, when a sallow faced, cheesy Aazaziel materialized in a grand explosion. His fluffy white undergarments were substantially covered by a snug red cape with yellow borders. His sparse hair was covered by a matching skullcap. He proudly said; "I may not yet be a very good artist, but I'm the greatest liar. Gotcha, suckers!" He made a sneering laugh and went back wherever he came from.

D said; "Let the lying little bastard think that he's won. It might keep him away."

Orpheus smiled and said; "Once I was blind, but now I see."

Eurydice wasn't certain of what they were talking about, but some vague memories started to materialize. The occasion was too festive to risk saying something stupid or analytical, so she just smiled and remained silent.

The two room house proved to be a bit tight for the trio, but didn't bother them when they were producing pieces of pot prettifications. Eurydice tried her hand at painting and took well to it, portraying flowers at night, utilizing a black background.

The next time one of Trader Jackson's people visited to deliver money and pick up tins, he was happy to see that production had increased. Time would show that the night flowers proved popular and as they were new to customers, they bought more. Whereas, previously many people would buy one, now most people needed two, one dark and one light.

Eurydice was able to get a message to her parents through the couriers. She wrote; "Mom and Dad. I love and miss you both. I'm fine and I hope you are. I'm back in Sudbury with Orpheus and things are going well. You told me that I have to find a place in this world. This is mine. I paint now. Love, Eurydice."

The large cents kept rolling in and they decided to buy the adjoining ten acre parcel of land and build a new house. While the property was densely wooded, they found a placement where no clearing was required. They jointly decided on a seven room two story house with a basement, three rooms including a huge kitchen downstairs and four more rooms up. They thought it suiting to have irregular stone walls and a black slate roof, not very different from a traditional colonial. Brick fireplaces provided heat in each room and a floor to ceiling cooking fireplace took one entire wall of the kitchen. The interior doors and wood working evoked "country farmhouse" simplicity and was stained lightly in a strange mixture of orange and light brown. It was furnished functionally with the necessary chests and cabinets of orthodox Queen Anne simplicity. The most curious feature was the trio's unexplained penchant for a plethora of plushy, fringed, multi-colored cushions on the floor of each room, each of plentiful proportion. Eurydice had one very non-standard demand. She wanted the exterior of the six paneled main entry door painted a bright red; the interior golden. At first the others merely deferred to her wishes, but grew to love it.

Shortly after they were able to move into the new house during an unusually warm April, one of Trader Jackson's couriers paid the expected visit, but advised them that a few others were now painting flowers on tin and that the Trader was worried. They didn't have any answers to give the man, but discussed the problem among themselves.

D said; "We really should have anticipated this. We've all probably been having too good a time to pay proper attention to business."

Orpheus said; "True, but we'll be all right. We own a new house outright, have good money left over and it's still coming."

Eurydice said; "You two can decide what to do. I've been thinking about money all my life. I just want to continue painting pretty pictures as long as I can."

D and Orpheus decided that they would try to differentiate their product from the copiers by putting a small trademark on the bottom left of each painting. They chose to use a gold paint, as it would show up well no matter the background color. Each new tin would exhibit the letters "DOE" in a circle.

The little family was on a roll. Their biggest concern was that they might inspire the wrath of those jealous of happy endings. They had certainly paid their dues, but that's irrelevant to the boring busybody brigade. Anticipating the likely barrage of smiling vicious people they imitated their eastern Sudbury neighbors and had an eight foot fence erected on the perimeters of their property. But, rather than the common wood construction, their fence was made of stone and they added barbed wire on the top. The fifteen foot wooden gate was kept closed. Eurydice didn't ever feel like leaving, perhaps because it took her so long to get there. D and Orpheus thought that was convenient, as the last time the burghers observed her in the proximity of Orpheus, a chain of events happened to coincide, that the three didn't want to relive. Let the bourgeois bags find some other form of entertainment to dwell on and criticize. Hopefully the wet weather would suffice.

The three loved each other and grew so close as time went by that on some days they seemed to merge. Each had done something that the other two could have taken issue with. They were insightful enough not to get engaged in a lifelong harangue that would not produce anything good. They never used the word "justice" seeing that it was merely a trick word that ensured perpetual warfare. They forgave without saying so, not wanting to create the impression of moral superiority.

Three horses had the run of the land and got shelter in a small red barn built right next to the house. D needed them to minimize the time spent venturing into the land of Nod for supplies and delivering pots to the general store, which she did only once every two months. Though it was no longer necessary, Orpheus made enough pots to keep the locals well supplied. D always looked severe in her black outfit, boots and whip. She politely and efficiently went about her business, doing her best to terminate "friendly" probing conversations firmly yet graciously. No doubt her appearance prevented pushy people from overstepping their bounds.

The horses were carefully chosen. "Pot" was a smooth white, gentle stallion with black markings prone to occasional temper tantrums. "Pie" was a furry black mare, who periodically displayed a stubborn streak. "Penelope" was a light gray mare who seemed subtly in charge, very knowledgeable in using her big bushy rear end to create space.

The "DOE" logo they established must have had some success as the money kept accumulating. Of course, in their cloistered existence they didn't spend much.

### Chapter 22- Sunset

Sometime in her late twenties Eurydice got the urge to be a mother. She said; "It's now or never." Orpheus and D had no objections, in fact liking the idea of having a little one around to watch and take care of.

Patti Christopher emerged with brown skin, lots of blond hair and the blue eyes of D. She was a crying baby, possibly because whenever she wailed one of the three would run over, pick her up and cuddle her. They considered the possibility that they may be unconsciously training her to cry, but couldn't resist Patti's tears. She called everyone "Mamma," though Orpheus looked forward to the day he could expand her vocabulary. In the meantime he managed a pained smile when called that name by a giggling Eurydice or D.

The little one kept the three bigger ones busier than they had become accustomed to being. They really didn't mind, even when one was running and exclaiming; "Patti, no, no, no, no, no," as at the bottom line of what was going on, was that their time with Patti equaled how much less time they spent painting tins. They could catch up with that whenever they chose, but Patti was only going to be a joyful baby once.

Patti had a fascination with the open paint cans left on the floor and would often crawl over to them and smear them on herself. At first the trio tried to stop and admonish her, but after a while they let her do as she wished, primarily because she seemed to like it so much. When she smeared herself with a dark color, Eurydice would say; "Are you trying to look more like mommy?" and when she chose a light color, D or O would get close to her and say; "Are you trying to look more like daddy?" Patti would just giggle at all of them and keep smearing the paint.

By the time she was three Patti was drawing flowers competently. She was given her own tins and she liked depicting the things her mind conjured up, no doubt resulting in the invention of countless new forms. The group considered her work good and sold it as they did their own, only saving her first, which depicted a bright red rose with three petals and a short green thorn-less stem, half in a yellow sunny background and half in the shade. In fairness to her, they thought her name should be included in their golden logo. "DOE" became "DOPE".

When Patti was 18, Eurydice started experiencing severe abdominal pains. She first hoped they would disappear, but after she had suffered with them for a month, the trio took a horse ride, each on their own steed, to the doctor's office in the western part of town where Eurydice had once shortly resided.

They took little note of any changes in Sudbury, the sky, the trees, or anything else for that matter. Orpheus and D kept their eyes on Eurydice, who grimaced regularly. This was completely evil and unfair. She was only 46 and they feared for her life. Orpheus recalled when he first met her, their early happiness, marriage, her death, his trip through Hades to get her back, Aazaziel's tricks, her leaving, coming back and the wonderful few decades since. It couldn't be over. No kind of good god would allow this. D was thinking about the past, too and hoping this was not the end, but knew a bit more of the inner workings of the eternal machine and fully accepted that as cruel as it may be, the powers that be don't really care. She could never think of them in terms of good or bad. They were beyond that, capricious and dominated by rules given by something no one had ever seen. D knew that for the next 54 years only she had the ability to end Eurydice's life, but she had never before considered the possibility of protracting a severely painful illness.

The doctor detected growths in her abdomen and frankly said that "It's only a matter of months." The group quietly rode back east. After ten minutes Orpheus said; "How bad is it?"

Eurydice said; "Bad."

Orpheus said; "Constantly?"

Eurydice nodded and grimaced; "Constantly."

Orpheus and D watched Eurydice bump along, closing her eyes in pain. Eurydice said; "I can't take this anymore."

D said; "I can't either. I know a way."

Orpheus said; "There's no way this time."

D said; "You two don't know that when I quit being death, I retained the right to still be the grim reaper for the three of us."

Eurydice said; "Then do it for me. I'm begging you. I have no more life."

Orpheus said; "I'm not staying here without you."

Eurydice said; "Don't be stupid. You two can have a great life together for decades."

The exact words simultaneously came out of Orpheus' and D's mouths; "I don't care."

Orpheus continued; "We belong together, wherever that is."

Eurydice stopped Pie and dismounted. D and Orpheus followed suit with Penelope and Pot.

Eurydice said; "Maybe it will hurt less, if I don't get bumped around." She took Pie's reins and slowly walked ahead of her. In deep thought, they all walked silently a few minutes, oblivious to their surroundings, Eurydice looking at the ground, Orpheus and D looking at her.

When they got to the bridge, Eurydice stopped to watch it's never ending flow and the birds flying over it, perhaps bringing the sustenance they found there to somewhere no one else could see. She said; "What about Patti? We all shouldn't leave her at the same time."

After some thought Orpheus responded with; "We probably shouldn't. We're being selfish."

D said; "It's inevitable that we all will die. Maybe it's better for her to have the experience of loss once, instead of three times."

Eurydice said; "She's been so sheltered. She knows nothing of the world."

D said; "Who does?"

They walked on, their minds deep in their own thoughts and feelings, trying as best they could to think and feel as the other three. Whatever the imagined solution it seemed unfair to at least one of the group. They didn't need Aazaziel's lies to produce a conundrum. Disease had taken his job.

Eurydice screamed and fell to the ground, holding her stomach.

Orpheus said; "That's it. We're going." He picked her up as he had once before, this time with D's assistance. He kissed Eurydice and said; "I love you so much. I learned to almost live without you once. That won't work again. I'm going with you."

When they got back to the house, Patti was on the kitchen floor painting. She flipped her long black hair around, hearing their entrance and saw Eurydice in the arms of Orpheus and D. Patti was aware of her mother's month long suffering, but tried not to think about it, hoping that if she ignored it, it would go away. Orpheus and D put Eurydice down on a dark cushion.

Patti said; "What's going on?" fearing the answer she expected.

Orpheus said; "Your mother is dying a horrible death."

Patti went to her mother in shock, kneeled by the cushion and said; "Tell me no."

Eurydice said; "I can't." She pulled Patti's head to her bosom and held her and deeply sighed. Four eyes moistened the immediate area.

Orpheus and D watched, holding hands. Orpheus said to Patti; "D and I are going with her."

Patti looked up with pained wide wet eyes.

Orpheus said; "We can't live without her. Do you want to have two morbid crying fossils around all the time?"

Patti tried to see things from their viewpoint and understood, but the suddenness of the events made her focus on herself and she said; "What about me?"

D saw everyone else's position. She felt it and decided to be the sacrifice, saying; "I'll stay."

With everyone else displaying open mouthed surprise, D seized the moment and said; "Patti, you stay here. I promise I'll be back. You two come with me and I'll do what I became an expert at."

Eurydice and Patti got up and the whole group started exchanging hugs, kisses, tears, "I love you's," "I'll miss you's," and goodbyes. D took charge, not wanting to wait for any complications and said; "Let's go."

She led the couple out of the house. She stood in the middle and took their hands. The full moon and stars lit the cloudless night sky. They walked out the gate they had left open, closing it behind them. They slowly strolled a few minutes through the old woods; the light breeze rustling the leaves was the only sound. They came to a rusted black iron gate and stopped.

D said; "This is it."

Orpheus said; "What's on the other side?"

D said; "I don't know. This is as far as I've ever gone."

They again hugged, kissed and expressed their love for each other. Eurydice said; "I can't leave without you."

D said; "I'll catch up some day. I still have work to do. Now, Orpheus, open the damn thing."

Orpheus pushed the gate open. He and Eurydice held hands and stepped through it. They looked back in hopes of seeing D one more time, but she was gone. They climbed the grassy hill noticing only a few very old huge willows. Eurydice no longer felt any pain. They immediately saw images which got their complete and enthusiastic attention. The northern sky displayed streams and plumes of every imaginable color. The images would last only a few seconds and disappear, to be replaced by others, one making the shape of an orange and brown baby's head, something undeniably new. They looked at each other and smiled gently with wide curious eyes.

They turned their heads back to try to get one more glimpse of D, but instead they saw the southern sky display quick moving streams and plumes of Reds! Blues! Greens! Yellows! Mixtures! Northern lights ahead and Southern lights behind. The couple kissed, sighed, held hands and again faced the north, slowly walking, looking straight forward at a seemingly endless stream of brightly colored plumes in the dark sky. They made no more backward glances and wondered what they would see when they got to the top of the hill.

Orpheus woke up in bed with Eurydice and D, who were also just rousing. They looked at each other curiously and made faint smiles. The smiles widened and they pointed fingers at each other. All started to speak at the same time, saying; "Did you.......?" Eurydice looked at the crib across the room and was relieved to see a one year old Patti still asleep on her back.

The unfettered morning sun shed its brilliance on the trio. Wide open windows allowed the golden rays to stream into the room. Orpheus wondered if he had remembered to close the gate the previous evening. He quickly decided that the answer was irrelevant, didn't care one way or the other and put the question out of his mind.

His pharyngeal phallus patiently played and portrayed the prominent, parted, Parisian, pulpous, panda-like panaceas persistently and perfectly from practice, a protracted process pointedly providing his paramours prolonged pleasure. Puck public perjurers popular personal politics permanently. Paradise re-possessed perpetually. **This art work would never be sold**.

### Over, Until Lunch
