OK, so I'm finally done. It's a little on the long side compared to my other entries, but don't let that deter you!
Gren hated the pomp and pageantry of formal balls; he was, and always had been, middle class and rubbing elbows with the social elite was not his ideal weekend. However, because his wife had been cordially invited through some distant friend he was pretty much forced to go. There were silver linings though; Talia promised to wear her little black dress and put her hair up. And when Gren first saw her as she came out of the bathroom he realized he could make due for a night. She walked beside him as he stood in front of the mirror and rested her head on his shoulder.
“You look very handsome, dear” she said, with a hint of something in her voice.
“Why thank you, my unbiased wife. You look very elegant yourself.”
Talia opened one of the dresser drawers and began sorting through her small collection of necklaces when the distinct wail of her son’s crying came through the door. With only a slight hesitation she went back to her search.
“Honey, can you get that for me?”
“Sorry, I kind of have my hands full at the moment.”
Talia looked into the mirror and saw her husband was still trying in vain to get his bow tie straight. Gren couldn’t help but wait until she was past the doorway before smiling.
“Well, could you at least bring me my necklace and earrings then?” she said as she walked down the hallway .
“Which ones?”
“Whichever ones look the best.”
Talia didn’t have much jewelry, but the pieces that she had made up for whatever lack of quantity. Gren dug through her drawer and immediately found a pair of long diamond earrings that he thought looked nice. He started looking for a complementing necklace when he found a small jewelry box in the far back of the drawer. It was a dull black and didn’t give much attention to itself, but if you looked closely you could see and feel very small, intricate etchings all over its surface. With a quick pull Gren snapped open the box. Inside he found a white strung necklace with an ivory colored sea shell that seemed a faint blue around the edges. With a quick mumble of satisfaction he picked up the necklace and earrings and headed into the hallway which had, in the meantime, become quiet.
When he reached the doorway he saw Talia holding their three year old son on her knee. He started to walk in before she motioned him to be quiet or else he would wake the child up. Gren stopped where he was and held up the earrings in one hand and the necklace in the other while Talia focused her attention back on Vincent.
“I picked out the…” The words escaped him for a moment. “Diamond earrings that look like wind chimes and the sea shell necklace”.
Talia immediately turned her head around and saw the necklace her husband chose in his right hand.
“The shell looks nice, although I’ve never seen you wear it before. What exactly is it anyway?”
And for a moment Talia stared at the necklace with a look of fear and conflict, but only for a moment. With a sigh she looked back at Vincent, now asleep on her knee.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow; just go and pick another one.”
Gren shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, I liked it.”
He walked back to his bedroom and put the necklace back in the jewelry drawer and picked
out another one. Talia followed him shortly afterwards and grabbed her purse and shawl.
“Did you call Lindsey yet?”
“I was going to go knock on her door.”
“Well, I’ll meet you in the car”.
Gren buttoned up his white dinner jacket and moseyed over to the neighbor’s house to tell the baby sitter that they were leaving. Lindsey was a good girl and Gren liked her. He also liked the smile she gave him when he told her Vincent was already asleep.
By the time he reached the driveway Talia was waiting for him beside their car.
“Are you going to be warm enough? Those breezes can get pretty chilly at night.”
Talia wrapped the shawl about her arms and smiled.
“I’ll be fine.”
And with that they left.
Within thirty minutes Gren found himself the only man at a table filled with ten women he had never met before in his life. Talia had tried to tell him all of their names when they first sat down, but once the third Jessica was introduced he stopped trying.
It didn’t take long before the conversation around the table turned into gossip. Gren was partly surprised to find his wife leaning forward with interest, but then again women tend to act differently in the company of other women. He tried to follow the conversation, but with so many names being tossed around that he didn’t know, including one or two more Jessica’s, he excused himself from the table and decided to walk around for a few minutes. The hall, which was probably one of the most decorated rooms Gren had ever seen, was fairly large and eventually he found a table with six or seven guys whom he imagined were in the same predicament as he was.
“Do you gentlemen mind if I sit down and take a break from the wife’s table?”
They all laughed and Gren sat down to their conversation of the good old college days and the like. One of the gentlemen, a Navy Lieutenant Colonel, had just finished telling a story about his younger brother: Back when he was in elementary school, the Lieutenant’s parents noticed their youngest son’s grades were slipping. A few days later, his teacher called them and said she found the reason why; he was cheating off the mentally handicapped kid sitting next to him. Gren nearly coughed up the water he was drinking when a familiar hand landed on his shoulder.
“Excuse me gentlemen, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my husband back.”
Gren looked over his shoulder and saw his wife smiling down at him. She had always told him that she was South African by descent, but could only have guessed what that entailed because he had seen some Asian and European in her before.With a defeated dip of his head he got up out of his seat and pushed the chair back under the table.
“Well, it seems I do not have the best of luck.”
One of the men at the table tipped his wine glass at Talia and wished he had Gren’s luck.
Talia grabbed Gren by the arm and the two started to walk back across the ballroom.
“So,” said Gren, “What are we planning to do now?”
“I don’t know; you didn’t seem too fond of the conversation at the women’s table…”
“You read me like a book.”
Talia smiled at her husband and squeezed his arm.
“Well, why don’t we dance?”
“I believe that can be arranged.”
For the rest of the night they slowly waltzed around the ballroom and by the time the orchestra stopped and they got back home their feet were more than sore. Talia went upstairs to undress while Gren paid Lindsey; he gave her a little extra, even though she told him that Vincent just slept the whole time. After she left he started untying his tie as he walked up the stairs. When he reached the doorway he remembered the story the Lieutenant told him and started cackling to himself as he stood in front of the dresser mirror. As he began to undress, it took him a while to realize that his wife was sitting on the bed with a look of anxiety knit on her brow.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
Talia looked out the bedroom window and gave a little sigh.
“I was just thinking about something.”
Gren turned around and kissed her forehead.
“Whatever it is, don’t worry and get some sleep”.
The next day, Gren woke up earlier than normal and decided to cook some eggs and toast for his family. Vincent came running down the stairs no more than two minutes later while Talia took her time in her bath robe. After breakfast, Talia told Gren that she was planning on taking Vincent and some of his friends to the park. As much as he wanted to go he had to decline; he knew since Friday that he was going to have to stop in on work for most of Sunday afternoon. Chances were he just had to check over the final draft of some story they were publishing Monday.
Much to Gren’s dismay he was right, and spent most of that Sunday afternoon rereading and double checking extraordinarily mediocre stories. Once six o’clock rolled around the stories weren’t getting any better he packed up and left. There was absolutely no traffic for a Sunday afternoon and when he arrived back home he found Talia’s car in the garage and a note on the door:
“Meet me at Watcher’s Field, eight o’clock.
Love, Tal”
“I wonder what this is all about.”
Gren took down the note and walked into the kitchen to get a snack. His wife loved star gazing and would often go to a nearby field and stay up all night looking at them with her telescope. Gren put a chicken pot pie in the oven while he watched the news and wondered, in the back of his mind, what his wife had in store.
Once the clock reached half past seven Gren decided to put on his jacket and head out. At first he planned on driving, but it was a particularly beautiful night and the field was only a mile or so away. So he walked and mumbled of sycamore trees.
When he reached Watcher’s field he found his wife standing in the middle waiting for him. The sight was both wonderful but strange; there was his wife with fair skin and black hair, the lone soul beneath a canopy of stars. Gren could not put away the feeling that he was in a room plastered with the sky; that he need only reach out and pull off a star for his amusement. He walked up to his wife and gently grabbed her shoulders with his hands.
“Well, here I am Tal. Now what exactly did you have planned out here??”
Talia gave him a look that seemed anxious, but at the same time wary of what she was about to say.
“Do you remember before we married? When we promised we wouldn’t keep any secrets from each other, if the other asked?”
“Of course I do.”
For a second Gren became a little panicked at the tone of his wife’s voice. Talia brought her head down slightly as a stiff breeze hit them.
“Well, I remember. And I also remember praying that this day wouldn’t come.”
Talia lifted her chin back up and shifted her weight.
“I want to tell you something…Close your eyes”.
Gren chuckled.
“Why would I close my eyes if you are going to tell me something?”
“Honey, please.”
Gren obliged the sincerity in her voice and jokingly covered his eyes with his hands like he did when he was in elementary school. And for several seconds he waited and listened and heard absolutely nothing.
“Open your eyes”
Gren brought down his hands and did not understand what he saw:
In front of him stood the woman who was his wife, adorned in flowing robes of white, blue, and gold. About her waist was thick band of cloth etched with familiar silver linings. Companion to her side was a dark blue sheath and a sword with a tongue as its hilt. Her dark hair fell straight into the whisper of the wind and around her neck was the white seashell he had found the night before. Her face was stern and her eyes spoke of things that he did not know or comprehend. She stepped towards him, leaving a thin veil a blue behind her to fall upon the clovers. And as she did, Gren was struck with awe and he shuddered as he stepped back. And as he did, he saw the veil around her head disappear and the sternness in her eyes turn to sincerity.
“Please…”
Something inside of Gren told him he should stop. With great trepidation, he listened. He stood in Watcher’s field and felt completely lost
“Who…who are you?” he managed to say through his delirium.
The woman across from him lithely took a step forward, but Gren backed away as she did. She stopped with a breath and spoke.
“I am your wife, as I always have been, but I am also more.”
As she finished her sentence, the cool light around her began to brighten, yet all of the grass nearby remained unlit. And with her chin tilted into the air and a voice that was the tranquility of his mind she said:
“I am Geheim; Unknown of Queens. Listen to my words, and remember.”
Gren’s legs began to fail him. He started to stagger back towards the tree line, but as much as he was scared, the fear fomented great awe in him.
“Are…are you a god?”
His wife looked on him and spoke.
“I am no god. I am no great, divine spirit. I am what creates me. I am the leaf on the wind. I am the whisper through the trees. I am an essence come to life. I am Secrets. ”
And as she spoke her tone became enamored, but some how it held a greater harshness.
“And, my husband, like the best of secrets, I am only kept between one. Do not tell another soul what I have told you or only the giver will remember what he gave, and the listener will fall upon silence.”
As quickly as she appeared, she was gone. Before Gren’s eyes stood his wife, still fair and dark haired, in the same white shirt and beige pants she was wearing that morning. And with the grace of a doe she walked up to him, her eyes on the verge of tearing, and hugged him.
“I’m...I’m sorry I had to tell you, but I had to.”
Gren was staring vacantly off into the horizon and gently gave her a pat on the back.
“I hope it…wasn’t too much.”
“No…no…It was fine”. His eyes never moved.
“Well, I guess we should go home.”
“You go on ahead…I need some time.”
Talia understood, and slowly began walking back along the row of ever greens. Gren remained in the Watchers Field for several minutes and with a troublesome sigh, did the same.
The next morning, Gren could not help but feel awkward as he watched his wife pack her suitcase for her early morning flight. She was going to South Africa, to visit old family for two weeks. When he dropped her off at the airport their good byes were brief, consisting only of a kiss and an “I love you.” He decided to wait and watch her plane take off before he got back in his car and headed home.
While he was driving, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with a phone number on it. It took a couple rings for it to pick up.
“Hello, this is Dr. Coleridge.”
“Yes, Dr. Coleridge. My name is Gren Eckener and I was hoping to schedule an appointment with you some time this week…whatever time would be most suitable for you.”
“Well, I have a few sliding appointments already scheduled, but the actual progression is based more on the seriousness of the situation. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is the problem?”
Gren hesitated for a second as he articulated his answer in his head.
“I believe my wife is…becoming delirious, not in a threatening way, but....”
“Could you give me an example?”. Dr. Coleridge’s voice actually seemed interested, whether it be through virtue or curiosity.
“She thinks that she is some one named Geheim…”
And then he stopped.
“Could you quickly elaborate on that for me, Mr. Eckener?”
Gren didn’t know what to say.
“Could I tell you later, I’m in a bit of a hurry right now.”
“That’s fine,” said Dr. Coleridge, though his words still hinted at his curiosity. “We can schedule an appointment for Friday at three fifteen, if that’s alright with you?”
“It is.”
“Good, then I will see you on Friday.”
And with that Gren hung up and began to wonder if he had done the right thing. The rest of his day he spent at work, finishing some corrections on the final collection they were sending out. None of the work could have been considered difficult; a few needed a minor correction here or there and most were already fine. So after a full day of nothing, he left and picked up Vincent at the Montessori school on his way home. When he pulled into the driveway, Vincent, just as Talia said, ran across the yard and crawled in through the doggie door. Gren couldn’t help but smile at his little miscreant as he walked to the mailbox. Inside there was only one letter, still crisp and, curiously enough, without a stamp. He flipped it around in his hand to see if anything was on the back before opening it:
“Honey, please, don’t tell any one else. Love, Talia”
For a moment Gren stood at the curb with his hand on his chin, equally puzzled at how his wife knew he called Dr. Coleridge and how she sent the letter. Willing to dwell on it later, he tucked the letter under his arm as he walked inside, pretended he didn’t know how Vincent was already inside much to the amusement of his son.
By noon that day Gren had already decided that he was having stir fry for dinner and turned on the local news channel before going to the kitchen. As he was getting out the ingredients for the wok, he stopped at the sound of the young newscaster’s voice.
“…and in more tragic news, Dr. Arthur Coleridge, a well respected local psychologist who had several outstanding awards in the development of his field, was found dead in his suburban home…”
Gren quickly stood up and stared at the screen with a look of utter disbelief.
“…His wife, Lorraine, has decided to keep the means of death private at the time…”
As he walked in front of the television and sat down on the couch, Gren didn’t know what to think. He picked up the opened envelope from the mail he set on the coffee table and read it a few more times even though he could barely harness his thoughts. And then, an epiphany; his wife was telling the truth. In the circles of his mind he remembered the confidence in her voice when she told him she would be the first to know if he cheated on her. He remembered how she smiled when he said he would never lie to her. And he remembered how she cried, for no reason, the morning Lindsey’s mother shot herself. It had swept over him so violently, but he knew it was true; everything she told him was true.
As he realized this, a wave of guilt pulsed through his chest and made him lean back in his chair. He tried to reason through it. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t his fault. How could he have believed her? How could any one have believed her? Gren nervously shook his head like a distraught child and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know if he was at fault, if he was exonerated or guilty. The only thing he knew was that he told her secret to the doctor and…
Gren stopped and realized what he had discovered. He did not eat dinner that night. He didn’t sleep either.
The next morning, a very tired and red eyed Gren dropped Vincent off at school and went into work like normal. He made his way through the standard greetings and salutations of his coworkers on his way to his desk, where he sat down and without delay, pulled out an envelope and a piece of stationery, along with a small sheet of paper with an address on it. The letter he wrote was very short, just one line, and with a stamp and an address it was sent off. The rest of his day didn’t attempt to stray from the ordinary and by five forty five he was already at home with his son. It wasn’t until Thursday morning while he was reading an article in the local paper that he learned his letter got through.
“Joshua Thurmond, a convicted child rapist and serial killer serving life at Cromwell State Prison, was found dead in his maximum security cell Wednesday night. The police have not released a Cause of Death and have begun an investigation of the prison.”
With a smile, the rest of Gren’s day passed quickly. After work he hit heavy traffic on the freeway but he really didn’t care. He picked up his son from school and by seven o’clock they had already eaten dinner and watched some TV. By eight, Gren had just tucked Vincent into bed before he headed to his own bedroom.
When he opened the door he saw streaks of blood laid down like needles across the floor and his wife, Talia, bent over at the waist on the side of the bed. Panic engulfed Gren.
“Oh God! What happened?”
He took a step towards Talia when she stood up, clad in fine robes of gold and white that he had some how looked past. In her right hand was her sword, with dried blood finely stroked up and down the blade. Gren froze and stared at the sword before he knew he must look at her face.
“Close the door.”
He had to.
He turned around and swiftly shut the door. By the time he turned back he was underneath
the stars of Watcher’s Field, gazing at his wife. Her presence permeated through him and he could feel something different in it. As Gren asked himself what it could be he saw Talia’s eyes begin to water. Her breath still commanded authority, but it was wrought and trembled with emotion.
“I am a killer.”
She twisted the sword in her hand, the blood not holding the reflection of her veil. Gren looked at the sword and then back at his wife. He wanted to speak, but her words cast them back into his mind.
“I killed two men. I killed a good man. I killed a doctor who wanted to help me even though I was a stranger. I killed him. I cut him in half, and I cried because he was a good man. I killed a wicked man. I killed a murderer and rapist who slept in lust and violence. I killed him. I cleaved him from his shoulder to his hip, and I cried because you wanted to kill him. I do not want to kill any one. I do not want to kill the innocent or those that deserve it. I have kept my secret for so many years and nothing could have made me let go. But I met you, the only truly honest man I have ever known and I loved you and promised to return your honesty. And now I ask you, my Love, to tell me, with the truth that earned my love, will you tell any one else?”
He tried to look his wife in the eyes, but found them cowering on the ground like a dog.
“I believe you already know.”
Talia’s stare did not change with his answer. Gren spoke up with all the strength he could muster.
“He is a horrible man. I have known him since I was young. He…”
“I do not care who he is… I do not want to kill him.” It was at this point that Gren realized his wife could no longer hide her crying.
“You do not know what it is like, Gren. You don’t know. I love you, but please, I beg of you, do not tell this man.”
Gren’s eyes where pushed further and further into the ground at his feet.
“I am sorry, but I cannot.”
And at these words, Talia, face stained with tears, lifted up her chin and looked down at everything he was.
“You are the most honest man I have ever known.”
Before Gren could pull up his head, he was back in his bedroom. The bloodstains were still on the floor and they would still be there the next morning. Quietly, he laid down his bed and very slowly, went to sleep.
Gren had already dropped Vincent off at school when he called in to work to use a sick day. With his day now free, he half-heartedly made himself some scrambled eggs and got dressed. By noon, he was waiting around in the living room when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Gren. This is David. I got your message. My schedule kind of picked up in the last few minutes, but I’m sure I could clear some room at around ten tonight? Is that fine with you?”
“That’s fine.”
“Oh, and before I cut you off, one quick question: are you still a teetotaler?”
“…No, not exactly…”
“That’s what I ****in’ wanted to hear! I’ll see you around ten.”
Gren hung up the phone. He looked at the Felix the Cat clock hanging on the wall; it was only twelve oh seven. He didn’t need to have skipped work, but there was no way he was going in now. So instead he sat down on the couch and said the same thing in his head, over and over.
“I am doing the right thing. I am doing the right thing.”
And in many ways he really believed he was. He knew David as well as any and better than most. And it was because of this that he knew the accusations were true and the judge’s gavel was bought.
But as distracted as his mind was, once the clock hit five he remembered it was time to pick Vincent up from school and left. Vincent, as always, was sitting on the curb in the school’s pick up lane with his painted hands on his knees. When Gren pulled up, the little boy jumped into the car ecstatically handed his father a little piece of paper with crayon markings all over it. Gren turned it over in his hands and saw written, very crudely, the word “kangaroo”.
“Did you write this? All by yourself?”
Vincent nodded and beamed proudly at his father.
“Well that is remarkable, absolutely remarkable!” Gren couldn’t remember exactly when he learned to spell, but he definitely didn’t start with words like “kangaroo”.
Once they got home, Vincent asked his dad if he could take him swimming in the neighbor’s pool.
“I think I can make that happen.”
Over the phone, Lindsey said it was perfectly fine and to just come on over and use the pool whenever they wanted to. So for the next two hours, Gren watched as his son floated and floundered all over the pool and didn’t once think about ten o’clock.
But after two hours of swimming, little Vincent had completely used up the boundless energy that is so generously given to young children. Once he was done, Gren had to dry him off and lead him by the hand as they walked through the backyard fence. The second Gren laid him down on his bed, Vincent was asleep among his dreams, lost in places he would miss when he grew older. Gren quietly walked out of his son’s room and fixed himself some dinner downstairs. And before Gren realized it, the clock told him it was time.
David lived downtown in a very large sky rise apartment on the river front. When Gren stepped into his apartment he was both impressed and disgusted by the flaunting of wealth that covered every inch of his home; the very wealthy tended to do that.
“Gren, you old *******. I haven’t seen you in, what, five years? You know that you’re the first old guy to stop by and give a little ‘Hello’”.
David looked almost exactly the same as he remembered, although he could tell that beneath his skin he was more worn than most men can imagine.
Gren took off his coat and hung it up on the rack near the door.
“Well, you haven’t kept yourself in the best of lights.”
David cackled to himself and shrugged his shoulders.
“True, but then again…”
After he finished speaking he handed Gren the drink he already had in his left hand as the two sat down in the living room.
“So what may I say this visit is for? I mean, let’s be honest, you have lived here as long as I have and never wanted to see my face before. That and was I kind of under the impression you hated after..."
Gren took a sip of his gin and felt it burn down his throat.
“I wanted to tell you something.”
“Well, out with it.”
Gren stared at David and then looked back at his drink
“In due time.”
Gren took another sip. And with that David took the initiative in the conversation. He was amazingly frank in what he had to say, especially for a man with such ill repute in his situation. He still had the same selfish and apathetic look in his eyes and halfway through his story Gren knew that experience was just water off his back. But as the conversation wore on and Gren continued drinking, he found himself slowly losing attention despite his best interests.
“**** Gren, that’s only your third drink and you’re almost off the ****ing deep end.”
Gren didn’t realize he was shrugging his shoulders.
“Well, it’s a special occasion.”
“And what would that be?”
Gren tipped his glass towards David.
“This is the last time I’ll have to see your face in a long time.”
David cocked his head back in laughter and quickly filled Gren’s glass in the same stroke.
The next thing Gren remembered was that he jolted himself awake in the nice leather chair David was sitting in earlier. He gave a dull, painful grunt as he shook his head and put his half empty glass, which was some how still in his hand, on the coffee table. He looked at the grandfather clock on the other side of the couch; it was three twenty five in the morning.
“Are you back in action there, Gren?”
Gren looked to his left and saw David looking at him as he tried to find something in his kitchen cabinet. Gren tried to pull himself up in the chair but stopped when he realized he didn’t care.
“Oh God, my head hurts.”
“That’s because you handle your liquor like a woman.”
David sat down across from Gren with a new drink in his hand.
“Although I must admit, you are a rather entertaining drunk.”
“Wait…what?”
David chuckled to himself for a second.
“Well, for starters you’re the only man I’ve ever met whose vocabulary expands as he gets drunk. And secondly, you make up the most ridiculously ****ed up stories.”
Gren now wanted to pull himself up in his seat.
“Wait, what stories?”
“Well, first you told me, in the most eloquent of speeches, that your wife’s name was really Geheim, or Geheem, or something like that, and that she was the ‘Essence of Secrets’ and carried around a sword with a tongue on it or something of the like…”
And as Gren heard this his heart stopped; he had completely forgotten. He did not know, and David had told him.
“Oh God.”
“I know. That is some far out **** right there.”
Gren quickly pulled himself up onto his feet.
“No. No. I have to go.”
David stood up opposite Gren and laughed as he talked.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Gren wasn’t even paying attention. He reached for his jacket and tried to put it on as he opened up the door and quickly turned around to close it before David could stop him.
But when he turned back around, he found himself back in a familiar place beneath the night and the sycamore trees. He stood in the empty field and stared up at the stars as he tried to keep his balance. But that only lasted for a few moments and soon he came crashing to his knees. And as he knelt there amid the dirt and clovers, words began to pour out of him that he could not control.
“Oh God, I am a fool. I am wretched fool.”
He could feel, far away, a breeze began to pick up.
“I am sorry. I am sorry I made you do this, all of this. I am sorry that I did not listen. I am sorry that I chose myself over you. I am sorry…”
Talia stood behind him, sword drawn.
“Please…do not tell Vincent…”
And Gren fell upon silence, beneath distant stars and tears.
Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to ask questions or comment.
Gren hated the pomp and pageantry of formal balls; he was, and always had been, middle class and rubbing elbows with the social elite was not his ideal weekend. However, because his wife had been cordially invited through some distant friend he was pretty much forced to go. There were silver linings though; Talia promised to wear her little black dress and put her hair up. And when Gren first saw her as she came out of the bathroom he realized he could make due for a night. She walked beside him as he stood in front of the mirror and rested her head on his shoulder.
“You look very handsome, dear” she said, with a hint of something in her voice.
“Why thank you, my unbiased wife. You look very elegant yourself.”
Talia opened one of the dresser drawers and began sorting through her small collection of necklaces when the distinct wail of her son’s crying came through the door. With only a slight hesitation she went back to her search.
“Honey, can you get that for me?”
“Sorry, I kind of have my hands full at the moment.”
Talia looked into the mirror and saw her husband was still trying in vain to get his bow tie straight. Gren couldn’t help but wait until she was past the doorway before smiling.
“Well, could you at least bring me my necklace and earrings then?” she said as she walked down the hallway .
“Which ones?”
“Whichever ones look the best.”
Talia didn’t have much jewelry, but the pieces that she had made up for whatever lack of quantity. Gren dug through her drawer and immediately found a pair of long diamond earrings that he thought looked nice. He started looking for a complementing necklace when he found a small jewelry box in the far back of the drawer. It was a dull black and didn’t give much attention to itself, but if you looked closely you could see and feel very small, intricate etchings all over its surface. With a quick pull Gren snapped open the box. Inside he found a white strung necklace with an ivory colored sea shell that seemed a faint blue around the edges. With a quick mumble of satisfaction he picked up the necklace and earrings and headed into the hallway which had, in the meantime, become quiet.
When he reached the doorway he saw Talia holding their three year old son on her knee. He started to walk in before she motioned him to be quiet or else he would wake the child up. Gren stopped where he was and held up the earrings in one hand and the necklace in the other while Talia focused her attention back on Vincent.
“I picked out the…” The words escaped him for a moment. “Diamond earrings that look like wind chimes and the sea shell necklace”.
Talia immediately turned her head around and saw the necklace her husband chose in his right hand.
“The shell looks nice, although I’ve never seen you wear it before. What exactly is it anyway?”
And for a moment Talia stared at the necklace with a look of fear and conflict, but only for a moment. With a sigh she looked back at Vincent, now asleep on her knee.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow; just go and pick another one.”
Gren shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, I liked it.”
He walked back to his bedroom and put the necklace back in the jewelry drawer and picked
out another one. Talia followed him shortly afterwards and grabbed her purse and shawl.
“Did you call Lindsey yet?”
“I was going to go knock on her door.”
“Well, I’ll meet you in the car”.
Gren buttoned up his white dinner jacket and moseyed over to the neighbor’s house to tell the baby sitter that they were leaving. Lindsey was a good girl and Gren liked her. He also liked the smile she gave him when he told her Vincent was already asleep.
By the time he reached the driveway Talia was waiting for him beside their car.
“Are you going to be warm enough? Those breezes can get pretty chilly at night.”
Talia wrapped the shawl about her arms and smiled.
“I’ll be fine.”
And with that they left.
Within thirty minutes Gren found himself the only man at a table filled with ten women he had never met before in his life. Talia had tried to tell him all of their names when they first sat down, but once the third Jessica was introduced he stopped trying.
It didn’t take long before the conversation around the table turned into gossip. Gren was partly surprised to find his wife leaning forward with interest, but then again women tend to act differently in the company of other women. He tried to follow the conversation, but with so many names being tossed around that he didn’t know, including one or two more Jessica’s, he excused himself from the table and decided to walk around for a few minutes. The hall, which was probably one of the most decorated rooms Gren had ever seen, was fairly large and eventually he found a table with six or seven guys whom he imagined were in the same predicament as he was.
“Do you gentlemen mind if I sit down and take a break from the wife’s table?”
They all laughed and Gren sat down to their conversation of the good old college days and the like. One of the gentlemen, a Navy Lieutenant Colonel, had just finished telling a story about his younger brother: Back when he was in elementary school, the Lieutenant’s parents noticed their youngest son’s grades were slipping. A few days later, his teacher called them and said she found the reason why; he was cheating off the mentally handicapped kid sitting next to him. Gren nearly coughed up the water he was drinking when a familiar hand landed on his shoulder.
“Excuse me gentlemen, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my husband back.”
Gren looked over his shoulder and saw his wife smiling down at him. She had always told him that she was South African by descent, but could only have guessed what that entailed because he had seen some Asian and European in her before.With a defeated dip of his head he got up out of his seat and pushed the chair back under the table.
“Well, it seems I do not have the best of luck.”
One of the men at the table tipped his wine glass at Talia and wished he had Gren’s luck.
Talia grabbed Gren by the arm and the two started to walk back across the ballroom.
“So,” said Gren, “What are we planning to do now?”
“I don’t know; you didn’t seem too fond of the conversation at the women’s table…”
“You read me like a book.”
Talia smiled at her husband and squeezed his arm.
“Well, why don’t we dance?”
“I believe that can be arranged.”
For the rest of the night they slowly waltzed around the ballroom and by the time the orchestra stopped and they got back home their feet were more than sore. Talia went upstairs to undress while Gren paid Lindsey; he gave her a little extra, even though she told him that Vincent just slept the whole time. After she left he started untying his tie as he walked up the stairs. When he reached the doorway he remembered the story the Lieutenant told him and started cackling to himself as he stood in front of the dresser mirror. As he began to undress, it took him a while to realize that his wife was sitting on the bed with a look of anxiety knit on her brow.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
Talia looked out the bedroom window and gave a little sigh.
“I was just thinking about something.”
Gren turned around and kissed her forehead.
“Whatever it is, don’t worry and get some sleep”.
The next day, Gren woke up earlier than normal and decided to cook some eggs and toast for his family. Vincent came running down the stairs no more than two minutes later while Talia took her time in her bath robe. After breakfast, Talia told Gren that she was planning on taking Vincent and some of his friends to the park. As much as he wanted to go he had to decline; he knew since Friday that he was going to have to stop in on work for most of Sunday afternoon. Chances were he just had to check over the final draft of some story they were publishing Monday.
Much to Gren’s dismay he was right, and spent most of that Sunday afternoon rereading and double checking extraordinarily mediocre stories. Once six o’clock rolled around the stories weren’t getting any better he packed up and left. There was absolutely no traffic for a Sunday afternoon and when he arrived back home he found Talia’s car in the garage and a note on the door:
“Meet me at Watcher’s Field, eight o’clock.
Love, Tal”
“I wonder what this is all about.”
Gren took down the note and walked into the kitchen to get a snack. His wife loved star gazing and would often go to a nearby field and stay up all night looking at them with her telescope. Gren put a chicken pot pie in the oven while he watched the news and wondered, in the back of his mind, what his wife had in store.
Once the clock reached half past seven Gren decided to put on his jacket and head out. At first he planned on driving, but it was a particularly beautiful night and the field was only a mile or so away. So he walked and mumbled of sycamore trees.
When he reached Watcher’s field he found his wife standing in the middle waiting for him. The sight was both wonderful but strange; there was his wife with fair skin and black hair, the lone soul beneath a canopy of stars. Gren could not put away the feeling that he was in a room plastered with the sky; that he need only reach out and pull off a star for his amusement. He walked up to his wife and gently grabbed her shoulders with his hands.
“Well, here I am Tal. Now what exactly did you have planned out here??”
Talia gave him a look that seemed anxious, but at the same time wary of what she was about to say.
“Do you remember before we married? When we promised we wouldn’t keep any secrets from each other, if the other asked?”
“Of course I do.”
For a second Gren became a little panicked at the tone of his wife’s voice. Talia brought her head down slightly as a stiff breeze hit them.
“Well, I remember. And I also remember praying that this day wouldn’t come.”
Talia lifted her chin back up and shifted her weight.
“I want to tell you something…Close your eyes”.
Gren chuckled.
“Why would I close my eyes if you are going to tell me something?”
“Honey, please.”
Gren obliged the sincerity in her voice and jokingly covered his eyes with his hands like he did when he was in elementary school. And for several seconds he waited and listened and heard absolutely nothing.
“Open your eyes”
Gren brought down his hands and did not understand what he saw:
In front of him stood the woman who was his wife, adorned in flowing robes of white, blue, and gold. About her waist was thick band of cloth etched with familiar silver linings. Companion to her side was a dark blue sheath and a sword with a tongue as its hilt. Her dark hair fell straight into the whisper of the wind and around her neck was the white seashell he had found the night before. Her face was stern and her eyes spoke of things that he did not know or comprehend. She stepped towards him, leaving a thin veil a blue behind her to fall upon the clovers. And as she did, Gren was struck with awe and he shuddered as he stepped back. And as he did, he saw the veil around her head disappear and the sternness in her eyes turn to sincerity.
“Please…”
Something inside of Gren told him he should stop. With great trepidation, he listened. He stood in Watcher’s field and felt completely lost
“Who…who are you?” he managed to say through his delirium.
The woman across from him lithely took a step forward, but Gren backed away as she did. She stopped with a breath and spoke.
“I am your wife, as I always have been, but I am also more.”
As she finished her sentence, the cool light around her began to brighten, yet all of the grass nearby remained unlit. And with her chin tilted into the air and a voice that was the tranquility of his mind she said:
“I am Geheim; Unknown of Queens. Listen to my words, and remember.”
Gren’s legs began to fail him. He started to stagger back towards the tree line, but as much as he was scared, the fear fomented great awe in him.
“Are…are you a god?”
His wife looked on him and spoke.
“I am no god. I am no great, divine spirit. I am what creates me. I am the leaf on the wind. I am the whisper through the trees. I am an essence come to life. I am Secrets. ”
And as she spoke her tone became enamored, but some how it held a greater harshness.
“And, my husband, like the best of secrets, I am only kept between one. Do not tell another soul what I have told you or only the giver will remember what he gave, and the listener will fall upon silence.”
As quickly as she appeared, she was gone. Before Gren’s eyes stood his wife, still fair and dark haired, in the same white shirt and beige pants she was wearing that morning. And with the grace of a doe she walked up to him, her eyes on the verge of tearing, and hugged him.
“I’m...I’m sorry I had to tell you, but I had to.”
Gren was staring vacantly off into the horizon and gently gave her a pat on the back.
“I hope it…wasn’t too much.”
“No…no…It was fine”. His eyes never moved.
“Well, I guess we should go home.”
“You go on ahead…I need some time.”
Talia understood, and slowly began walking back along the row of ever greens. Gren remained in the Watchers Field for several minutes and with a troublesome sigh, did the same.
The next morning, Gren could not help but feel awkward as he watched his wife pack her suitcase for her early morning flight. She was going to South Africa, to visit old family for two weeks. When he dropped her off at the airport their good byes were brief, consisting only of a kiss and an “I love you.” He decided to wait and watch her plane take off before he got back in his car and headed home.
While he was driving, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with a phone number on it. It took a couple rings for it to pick up.
“Hello, this is Dr. Coleridge.”
“Yes, Dr. Coleridge. My name is Gren Eckener and I was hoping to schedule an appointment with you some time this week…whatever time would be most suitable for you.”
“Well, I have a few sliding appointments already scheduled, but the actual progression is based more on the seriousness of the situation. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is the problem?”
Gren hesitated for a second as he articulated his answer in his head.
“I believe my wife is…becoming delirious, not in a threatening way, but....”
“Could you give me an example?”. Dr. Coleridge’s voice actually seemed interested, whether it be through virtue or curiosity.
“She thinks that she is some one named Geheim…”
And then he stopped.
“Could you quickly elaborate on that for me, Mr. Eckener?”
Gren didn’t know what to say.
“Could I tell you later, I’m in a bit of a hurry right now.”
“That’s fine,” said Dr. Coleridge, though his words still hinted at his curiosity. “We can schedule an appointment for Friday at three fifteen, if that’s alright with you?”
“It is.”
“Good, then I will see you on Friday.”
And with that Gren hung up and began to wonder if he had done the right thing. The rest of his day he spent at work, finishing some corrections on the final collection they were sending out. None of the work could have been considered difficult; a few needed a minor correction here or there and most were already fine. So after a full day of nothing, he left and picked up Vincent at the Montessori school on his way home. When he pulled into the driveway, Vincent, just as Talia said, ran across the yard and crawled in through the doggie door. Gren couldn’t help but smile at his little miscreant as he walked to the mailbox. Inside there was only one letter, still crisp and, curiously enough, without a stamp. He flipped it around in his hand to see if anything was on the back before opening it:
“Honey, please, don’t tell any one else. Love, Talia”
For a moment Gren stood at the curb with his hand on his chin, equally puzzled at how his wife knew he called Dr. Coleridge and how she sent the letter. Willing to dwell on it later, he tucked the letter under his arm as he walked inside, pretended he didn’t know how Vincent was already inside much to the amusement of his son.
By noon that day Gren had already decided that he was having stir fry for dinner and turned on the local news channel before going to the kitchen. As he was getting out the ingredients for the wok, he stopped at the sound of the young newscaster’s voice.
“…and in more tragic news, Dr. Arthur Coleridge, a well respected local psychologist who had several outstanding awards in the development of his field, was found dead in his suburban home…”
Gren quickly stood up and stared at the screen with a look of utter disbelief.
“…His wife, Lorraine, has decided to keep the means of death private at the time…”
As he walked in front of the television and sat down on the couch, Gren didn’t know what to think. He picked up the opened envelope from the mail he set on the coffee table and read it a few more times even though he could barely harness his thoughts. And then, an epiphany; his wife was telling the truth. In the circles of his mind he remembered the confidence in her voice when she told him she would be the first to know if he cheated on her. He remembered how she smiled when he said he would never lie to her. And he remembered how she cried, for no reason, the morning Lindsey’s mother shot herself. It had swept over him so violently, but he knew it was true; everything she told him was true.
As he realized this, a wave of guilt pulsed through his chest and made him lean back in his chair. He tried to reason through it. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t his fault. How could he have believed her? How could any one have believed her? Gren nervously shook his head like a distraught child and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know if he was at fault, if he was exonerated or guilty. The only thing he knew was that he told her secret to the doctor and…
Gren stopped and realized what he had discovered. He did not eat dinner that night. He didn’t sleep either.
The next morning, a very tired and red eyed Gren dropped Vincent off at school and went into work like normal. He made his way through the standard greetings and salutations of his coworkers on his way to his desk, where he sat down and without delay, pulled out an envelope and a piece of stationery, along with a small sheet of paper with an address on it. The letter he wrote was very short, just one line, and with a stamp and an address it was sent off. The rest of his day didn’t attempt to stray from the ordinary and by five forty five he was already at home with his son. It wasn’t until Thursday morning while he was reading an article in the local paper that he learned his letter got through.
“Joshua Thurmond, a convicted child rapist and serial killer serving life at Cromwell State Prison, was found dead in his maximum security cell Wednesday night. The police have not released a Cause of Death and have begun an investigation of the prison.”
With a smile, the rest of Gren’s day passed quickly. After work he hit heavy traffic on the freeway but he really didn’t care. He picked up his son from school and by seven o’clock they had already eaten dinner and watched some TV. By eight, Gren had just tucked Vincent into bed before he headed to his own bedroom.
When he opened the door he saw streaks of blood laid down like needles across the floor and his wife, Talia, bent over at the waist on the side of the bed. Panic engulfed Gren.
“Oh God! What happened?”
He took a step towards Talia when she stood up, clad in fine robes of gold and white that he had some how looked past. In her right hand was her sword, with dried blood finely stroked up and down the blade. Gren froze and stared at the sword before he knew he must look at her face.
“Close the door.”
He had to.
He turned around and swiftly shut the door. By the time he turned back he was underneath
the stars of Watcher’s Field, gazing at his wife. Her presence permeated through him and he could feel something different in it. As Gren asked himself what it could be he saw Talia’s eyes begin to water. Her breath still commanded authority, but it was wrought and trembled with emotion.
“I am a killer.”
She twisted the sword in her hand, the blood not holding the reflection of her veil. Gren looked at the sword and then back at his wife. He wanted to speak, but her words cast them back into his mind.
“I killed two men. I killed a good man. I killed a doctor who wanted to help me even though I was a stranger. I killed him. I cut him in half, and I cried because he was a good man. I killed a wicked man. I killed a murderer and rapist who slept in lust and violence. I killed him. I cleaved him from his shoulder to his hip, and I cried because you wanted to kill him. I do not want to kill any one. I do not want to kill the innocent or those that deserve it. I have kept my secret for so many years and nothing could have made me let go. But I met you, the only truly honest man I have ever known and I loved you and promised to return your honesty. And now I ask you, my Love, to tell me, with the truth that earned my love, will you tell any one else?”
He tried to look his wife in the eyes, but found them cowering on the ground like a dog.
“I believe you already know.”
Talia’s stare did not change with his answer. Gren spoke up with all the strength he could muster.
“He is a horrible man. I have known him since I was young. He…”
“I do not care who he is… I do not want to kill him.” It was at this point that Gren realized his wife could no longer hide her crying.
“You do not know what it is like, Gren. You don’t know. I love you, but please, I beg of you, do not tell this man.”
Gren’s eyes where pushed further and further into the ground at his feet.
“I am sorry, but I cannot.”
And at these words, Talia, face stained with tears, lifted up her chin and looked down at everything he was.
“You are the most honest man I have ever known.”
Before Gren could pull up his head, he was back in his bedroom. The bloodstains were still on the floor and they would still be there the next morning. Quietly, he laid down his bed and very slowly, went to sleep.
Gren had already dropped Vincent off at school when he called in to work to use a sick day. With his day now free, he half-heartedly made himself some scrambled eggs and got dressed. By noon, he was waiting around in the living room when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Gren. This is David. I got your message. My schedule kind of picked up in the last few minutes, but I’m sure I could clear some room at around ten tonight? Is that fine with you?”
“That’s fine.”
“Oh, and before I cut you off, one quick question: are you still a teetotaler?”
“…No, not exactly…”
“That’s what I ****in’ wanted to hear! I’ll see you around ten.”
Gren hung up the phone. He looked at the Felix the Cat clock hanging on the wall; it was only twelve oh seven. He didn’t need to have skipped work, but there was no way he was going in now. So instead he sat down on the couch and said the same thing in his head, over and over.
“I am doing the right thing. I am doing the right thing.”
And in many ways he really believed he was. He knew David as well as any and better than most. And it was because of this that he knew the accusations were true and the judge’s gavel was bought.
But as distracted as his mind was, once the clock hit five he remembered it was time to pick Vincent up from school and left. Vincent, as always, was sitting on the curb in the school’s pick up lane with his painted hands on his knees. When Gren pulled up, the little boy jumped into the car ecstatically handed his father a little piece of paper with crayon markings all over it. Gren turned it over in his hands and saw written, very crudely, the word “kangaroo”.
“Did you write this? All by yourself?”
Vincent nodded and beamed proudly at his father.
“Well that is remarkable, absolutely remarkable!” Gren couldn’t remember exactly when he learned to spell, but he definitely didn’t start with words like “kangaroo”.
Once they got home, Vincent asked his dad if he could take him swimming in the neighbor’s pool.
“I think I can make that happen.”
Over the phone, Lindsey said it was perfectly fine and to just come on over and use the pool whenever they wanted to. So for the next two hours, Gren watched as his son floated and floundered all over the pool and didn’t once think about ten o’clock.
But after two hours of swimming, little Vincent had completely used up the boundless energy that is so generously given to young children. Once he was done, Gren had to dry him off and lead him by the hand as they walked through the backyard fence. The second Gren laid him down on his bed, Vincent was asleep among his dreams, lost in places he would miss when he grew older. Gren quietly walked out of his son’s room and fixed himself some dinner downstairs. And before Gren realized it, the clock told him it was time.
David lived downtown in a very large sky rise apartment on the river front. When Gren stepped into his apartment he was both impressed and disgusted by the flaunting of wealth that covered every inch of his home; the very wealthy tended to do that.
“Gren, you old *******. I haven’t seen you in, what, five years? You know that you’re the first old guy to stop by and give a little ‘Hello’”.
David looked almost exactly the same as he remembered, although he could tell that beneath his skin he was more worn than most men can imagine.
Gren took off his coat and hung it up on the rack near the door.
“Well, you haven’t kept yourself in the best of lights.”
David cackled to himself and shrugged his shoulders.
“True, but then again…”
After he finished speaking he handed Gren the drink he already had in his left hand as the two sat down in the living room.
“So what may I say this visit is for? I mean, let’s be honest, you have lived here as long as I have and never wanted to see my face before. That and was I kind of under the impression you hated after..."
Gren took a sip of his gin and felt it burn down his throat.
“I wanted to tell you something.”
“Well, out with it.”
Gren stared at David and then looked back at his drink
“In due time.”
Gren took another sip. And with that David took the initiative in the conversation. He was amazingly frank in what he had to say, especially for a man with such ill repute in his situation. He still had the same selfish and apathetic look in his eyes and halfway through his story Gren knew that experience was just water off his back. But as the conversation wore on and Gren continued drinking, he found himself slowly losing attention despite his best interests.
“**** Gren, that’s only your third drink and you’re almost off the ****ing deep end.”
Gren didn’t realize he was shrugging his shoulders.
“Well, it’s a special occasion.”
“And what would that be?”
Gren tipped his glass towards David.
“This is the last time I’ll have to see your face in a long time.”
David cocked his head back in laughter and quickly filled Gren’s glass in the same stroke.
The next thing Gren remembered was that he jolted himself awake in the nice leather chair David was sitting in earlier. He gave a dull, painful grunt as he shook his head and put his half empty glass, which was some how still in his hand, on the coffee table. He looked at the grandfather clock on the other side of the couch; it was three twenty five in the morning.
“Are you back in action there, Gren?”
Gren looked to his left and saw David looking at him as he tried to find something in his kitchen cabinet. Gren tried to pull himself up in the chair but stopped when he realized he didn’t care.
“Oh God, my head hurts.”
“That’s because you handle your liquor like a woman.”
David sat down across from Gren with a new drink in his hand.
“Although I must admit, you are a rather entertaining drunk.”
“Wait…what?”
David chuckled to himself for a second.
“Well, for starters you’re the only man I’ve ever met whose vocabulary expands as he gets drunk. And secondly, you make up the most ridiculously ****ed up stories.”
Gren now wanted to pull himself up in his seat.
“Wait, what stories?”
“Well, first you told me, in the most eloquent of speeches, that your wife’s name was really Geheim, or Geheem, or something like that, and that she was the ‘Essence of Secrets’ and carried around a sword with a tongue on it or something of the like…”
And as Gren heard this his heart stopped; he had completely forgotten. He did not know, and David had told him.
“Oh God.”
“I know. That is some far out **** right there.”
Gren quickly pulled himself up onto his feet.
“No. No. I have to go.”
David stood up opposite Gren and laughed as he talked.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Gren wasn’t even paying attention. He reached for his jacket and tried to put it on as he opened up the door and quickly turned around to close it before David could stop him.
But when he turned back around, he found himself back in a familiar place beneath the night and the sycamore trees. He stood in the empty field and stared up at the stars as he tried to keep his balance. But that only lasted for a few moments and soon he came crashing to his knees. And as he knelt there amid the dirt and clovers, words began to pour out of him that he could not control.
“Oh God, I am a fool. I am wretched fool.”
He could feel, far away, a breeze began to pick up.
“I am sorry. I am sorry I made you do this, all of this. I am sorry that I did not listen. I am sorry that I chose myself over you. I am sorry…”
Talia stood behind him, sword drawn.
“Please…do not tell Vincent…”
And Gren fell upon silence, beneath distant stars and tears.
Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to ask questions or comment.