The Anthvoke

By Steve Berman

Dearest Clay,

You're going to be sad reading this, I know. Jess and I took off for the Fallen Area. I can hear that groan --or are you cursing? But I had to. Ever since she first heard of the Fallen, Jess has been obsessing about running away and becoming part of the strangeness. There were nights she never slept, just lay next to me, and I knew she was wondering what was beyond the concrete walls and barbed wire quarantining parts of the city.

I told her she's special and different from everyone else, but that didn't seem to satisfy her. I think she needs to prove it.

Thanks for letting us stay the last few days with you. I hope everything works out with you and that film student.

So indebted to you it hurts,

Marie

The two had spent the past few hours on the streets of the Fallen Area. Along the way their hands often met, not just to help each other along but for that reassuring interweaving of fingers. Overhead, clouds streaked across an angry red sky. Marie, winded from their fast pace, looked up at Jess for strength. Her lover's dark curls had become matted with sweat, but those almost-black eyes shimmered with expectation. Marie had considered stopping to catch her breath many times but always pressed on. But now, so close to their goal, she needed to rest. Her legs and sides burned. She stopped, heaving in gulps of air. Jess seemed surprised that they weren't moving anymore. She looked over at Marie. "I'm glad you're here with me." That was Jess's way of saying "I love you," to use different words that were easier to admit. Marie was slightly bent over, hands on her knees, but she still nodded. "This isn't the kind of place I want us to be."

Jess glanced down the street they found themselves on. To Marie, it looked abandoned, with shattered storefronts and debris piled alongside the pavement.

"Can't you find someone else to learn from?" Marie said. Jess made that face, the one that mixed scolding and pleading. "Hon, we've talked about this before. Anyone other than an anthvoke would want something from me in return. Anthvokes aren't interested in flesh." She tugged at the front of her sweat-stained tank top, briefly revealing the butterfly tattoo over her petite breasts. "Do you really want to share me with someone else?" Her hand reached out and caressed Marie's smooth round face.

Marie answered by taking Jess's hand in her own. Together they cautiously explored what once had been Antiques Row. "Which one is it?" Jess was silent. She seemed focused on each entrance, the ones that were nothing more than gaping holes framed with jagged glass, the ones boarded up and marred with graffiti, the ones that were choked by boxes filled with trash. She finally stopped a few feet in front of one shop. The remains of a rolltop desk, thick-limbed mahogany chairs, and a battered samovar that had turned a sick green from the elements were all partly protected by a twisted and rusted grate. The gate's smaller brother blocked most of the open doorway.

"Guests." The voice barely escaped from the darkness inside the shop. Jess slipped a sweaty hand from Marie's grasp and moved closer, pulling at the metal grate to widen the gap. One of the sharp ends caught and tore the fabric of her batik dress. Marie inwardly shuddered and worried about tetanus. "I've come to learn," Jess shouted. "You have to teach me!" Marie found herself clutching the brick wall of the shop. This was not her place; she did not feel a guest, not even welcome here. She nearly leapt and climbed the wall when the front of the desk suddenly rolled back on its own. "Students," came the voice, stronger and deeper than before, "are the best guests." The sound of glass being crunched underfoot followed the words. An unkempt man appeared in the storefront window. Greasy hair hung down into his face. He wore the faded scraps of an old smoking jacket. Fresh blood from the debris he was walking through covered his scarred feet. Without a word, or an expression on his unshaven face, he sat down on the only upright chair and stared at the women there on the sidewalk.

Jess reached out towards the man, one of her fingers reverently touching the tattered hem of the jacket. The sight turned Marie's stomach. She wanted to drag Jess back and run that hand under hot water to wash away the traces of the man and this dump. Then they could slip under clean covers and fall asleep safe together.

But she remained still. Jess wanted this.

Clay,

You'll never see this letter, but I need to write you anyway. I have no one else to talk to, and I need to talk so badly. I hope you never see where we're living. I'll call it an apartment but it's actually the third floor of an office building. It's close enough to the anthvoke for Jess to walk but gives me the distance I need to feel comfortable. I leave the lights on all the time because row after row of empty cubicles/empty desks in the dark would give me nightmares.

That's a lie. I still have nightmares. I wake up on a sleeping bag on the industrial-strength carpet and I'm scared to close my eyes again. Everything we heard about the Fallen Area on the Outside was pretty much true. But we never heard about the atmosphere. Everything is either abandoned or run down and yet there are people living here! Some streets aren't safe to walk down. I always feel on edge, worried. As for Jess, well, ever hear of an anthvoke? Prob not. They're Talented with a capital T which just means they can do weird things. Anthvokes somehow tap and awaken the spirit of antiques and old junk. At least, that's how Jess explains it. Nothing makes sense. I think the world has gone a little crazy around here. Or am I the only one, since I doubt everything? No, that's not true. I don't have doubts. I hate everything here.

Ugh, that anthvoke. Jess doesn't know how much he bothers me. They wouldn't let me stay and watch her first night of training cause I'm normal, so I waited half the night on an empty street. Nothing to do but try and stay awake. You do not want to fall asleep outside here.

I'm hoping she comes home soon. I'm tired of photocopying my hand. I've taped pages of me flipping the finger on every door as a warning for others to stay out. Are film students any easier than Jess?

Missing you,

Marie

"They have pawnshops here?" Marie adjusted the nylon fanny pack around her waist. It lay like a swollen lump against her stomach, stuffed with pepper spray, the cellophane-wrapped caramels that Jess loved, tissues, a Swiss army knife, and, hidden away in the secret zipper compartment, some cash. She felt more confident wearing the pack, as if it were a comic book heroine's trusted utility belt, proof against all the dangers around them. Jess said it made her look fat.

"Uh-huh," Jess nodded absently, as they walked down the stairs to the office building's lobby.

"So is this like homework?"

Jess looked over her shoulder at Marie as she pushed open the glass door to the street and laughed. That laugh, once so common that Marie heard it every day, seemed a stranger's. "I guess you could say that. He told me I need some old things in the apartment to create the right emanations." Marie bit back her remarks about their "apartment." Bad-mouthing the office had become a habit over the past two weeks --though by now she almost slept through the nights, and her days spent roaming the vast floor, peering into desk drawers for forgotten bits of clerical treasure, were almost calming. Last night she'd awarded an hours-late Jess with a necklace of rainbow-colored paper clips. Why the anthvoke just didn't lend Jess junk from his shop was beyond Marie. The warm weather drew others to the street. Marie envied Jess's ability to simply walk along staring straight ahead, undistracted. Marie could not stop herself from staring at every person passing by. She had the urge to judge, to brand each of them. Those over there seemed normal. Were they stressed and forlorn like herself? She needed a beer. Did desperate people crave beer? She wiped away the dampness of sweat from her upper lip. She struggled to keep her gaze someplace safe, on Jess's back, admiring Jess's wing-like shoulder blade as it moved beneath her pale skin. If she worried about the others around them, she risked breaking down, becoming a wreck.

The pawnshop was thankfully not that far. Past the door was a room with a counter and then a long area behind that filled with boxes and crates that she doubted held anything more interesting than warped record albums and old men's magazines. Marie glanced at the faded pictures of cheap and greasy Chinese food dishes above the counter and her stomach gurgled. What a pity, she thought, to give up shredded chicken with garlic sauce for a shop worse than a second-rate flea market.

The proprietor wore a short-sleeve dress shirt stained along the collar and under the arms from sweat. He looked up from tinkering with an old rotary phone. His glasses enlarged his beady eyes.

"It's not ready yet." He tapped the metal dial of the telephone with the screwdriver he held.

Jess shook her head. "That's not what I need. Or is it?" She tilted her head in thought, and then frowned. "No, not now." She pointed over the proprietor's shoulder on the right. "There, on the third shelf from the top." The man nervously looked behind him, and then nodded several times, his head bobbing on a thin neck. He stretched out his arms and took down a slightly tarnished silver dome resting on a rosewood base. He carefully placed it on the counter in front of Jess.

"What is it?" Marie took a step closer, actually curious. Jess took the knob at the top of the dome in her fingers and lifted, revealing a thick layer of metal honeycombed with small round holes. "A vintage cigarette holder. 1943. Made in Trenton, New Jersey."

"How did you know all that?"

"Let me guess," said the store owner, pushing up his glasses over his nose for a moment before they drooped back down again. "You're an anthvoke."

"Nearly," Jess said with a half-smile.

"Ugh, don't start smoking." Marie detested the scent of cigarette smoke.

"I'll take it." Jess lowered the dome back into place. "How much is it, anyway?"

"Trade or cash?"

"Cash." Marie unzipped the fanny pack and took out the money. He thought for a moment, biting at his lip and looking disappointed that there would be no trade. "Then it's thirty."

"What about that tea cup?"

Twenty minutes later, they left the store with two bags full of treasure. Jess grinned. Marie allowed her lover's happiness to infect her a little.

"I'm surprised you didn't buy that music box."

"It was a reproduction. Made in Taiwan last year."

"Oh."

Clay,

Well, we've nearly run out of money. Jess doesn't seem worried, even at the thought of no food in the little fridge. Of course, she barely eats anyway. I'm always stuffing my face. Ugh, I think I've gained twenty pounds since we came here. What else am I supposed to do? There's nothing here for me, nothing but Jess, and I'm not so sure she even cares I'm around. We've stopped, well, being intimate. She comes home near morning, wakes me up, and lets me put my arm around her and then she's asleep and I'm left hoping.

Jess promises that as soon as she's mastered her talents, everything will be different and we'll be wanting for nothing. Doesn't she even see that's a lie? I mean, her teacher is this hermit huddled away from the rest of the world with his relics. She brings home all this old crap, staring at it, touching it. Ugh. I try to talk with her, tell her I'm worried, sometimes even scared. But I can tell she's not really listening. She's slowly closing me off.

I miss television. And cheesecake, especially covered with choc sauce. And walking by the river just before dark. I miss you and even those annoying yapping lap dogs of yours. How does your film student stand them?

But neither of us can go back.

Marie

One of Marie's most relaxing pastimes had always been watching Jess dress. On the Outside, Marie would have been lying on her stomach on their bed while her lover riffled through the closet they shared. Now, in their office apartment, she had to make do with reclining on a sleeping bag and staring up as Jess lifted clothes from a desktop. Her lover chose something she'd bought the other day at a thrift store. Jess let out a giggle as she pulled the old outfit over her head and down her torso. Marie doubted the frayed straps would hold.

"See how it shimmers when I move."

Marie stayed quiet. The fabric had lost most of its gold sequins; the dress had barely survived the ages since a flapper had last worn it. If there was any shimmer left, it was only a last-ditch attempt at glamour. But it did no good to say anything. All the clothes that Jess had brought with her to the Fallen Area were now in the alleyway beside the building, thrown one by one out the window as she brought home vintage things to wear. Marie had managed to hold her tongue when that soft mocha-colored dress she had bought Jess in New Hope on their last anniversary had been consigned to the rats below. Clay,

Okay, I finally found something here for me. After so many days staying inside, boredom was driving me crazy, so I started exploring the neighborhood. A few blocks away there's a shelter. They offer beds and whatever food people have scavenged. The people that run it were thrilled when I mentioned I was a nurse and wanted me to run a first aid station in the back corner. Yesterday I started helping out. It felt soooo good.

You'd probably cringe if you saw the place. Basically it's some old storefront that they converted. Let's not even mention the word sterile. I have boxes of bandages and tape, iodine and rubbing alcohol, and there's a locked drawer if I ever get any real medicine. Once a week this young guy brings in new supplies that he must somehow get from the Outside. Maybe he sneaks it past the National Guard. Since I started helping people there I've had a few propositions! At least that made me laugh, something I worried I'd left behind outside the concrete walls surrounding us. Jess took out all her piercings. Even the tongue bar. She said they were too modern and interfered with her studies. She looks a little plainer, but I wouldn't say that to her face. I think she traded the bar. Ugh. Who would want that and why?

Take care. I wish I was there.

Marie

Marie adjusted the white drapes along the metal rods she had spent the past hour installing in the shelter walls. She had told the others at the shelter they were necessary for patients' privacy, but that was only a half-truth. She needed them too, to hide behind in those moments when she felt lost and alone. Then she would fight back tears by distracting herself with a routine: wiping down the furniture or doing yet another mental checklist of supplies. Only when everything was in order and there was no one needing help could she come out from behind the curtains and chat with the rest of the shelter workers. She was in the midst of deciding the label for a half-full bottle of vodka when she heard the latest uproar out front. She ignored the shouts and wrote the words Hydrogen Peroxide with a fat marker on surgical tape. Marie was ready to affix the label when she heard her name called.

The flimsy curtains were suddenly pulled aside and a young man staggered towards her. The ripped black T-shirt showed a bloody wound at the shoulder. Small scratches and cuts marred the pale skin on his neck and lower arm. His black jeans were ripped at the knees. His face looked familiar, and as he took another step, Marie recognized him as the guy who delivered supplies to the shelter.

Behind him, the other workers seemed ready to engulf him, as each sought to be the one to help him. He lifted his one fit arm and waved them back. Marie moved to assist but the look on his face stopped her, until his eyes lost their focus and he seemed ready to fall. She let him lean against her on his good side, and guided him over to sit atop the metal-topped desk she used as an exam table.

"Close the curtain. I can't --close it so they don't stare." His voice sounded low and tired.

They were all standing right outside, and she gave them a shrug as she pulled the drapes shut.

"They all want a piece of me." He looked drawn, almost stark white, with unruly black hair and dark eyes.

Marie opened a drawer and took out the scissors. "Why?" As she cut away the tattered remains of the blood-soaked sleeve, she could feel him looking at her. "Because they think I can do anything they want."

"Can you?"

He sucked in a breath as she slowly peeled away the shirt. "So what do you want?"

"You to sit still."

Imbedded in his flesh were slivers of glass, ranging in size from as large as her finger down to small glistening points. "What happened to you?"

"Stained rain." The young man winced as she took a tweezers and started to remove the largest pieces. He saw Marie's confused look. "You haven't been Inside long." He bit his lip a moment. "Stained glass windows are trouble in the Fallen. Tend to shatter whenever a living thing gets near. I was careless around this one temple. As soon as it exploded down on me, I moved."

"Not fast enough." The shards chimed happily as they fell into the metal bowl. Each piece reflected the overhead light like a wet, red jewel. She spent what felt like hours trying to get all the glass out of him. Towards the end, she had her face only a few inches from his shoulder, muttering that she'd kill for a magnifying glass, as her hand began to cramp trying to lightly tease out every last sliver she could find. Only once did he cry out, when she had to dig the tips of the tweezers down deep. Blood-soaked towels lay at her feet, and she could feel the trails sweat had left down her sides and back.

"I think that's all of them." She reached for the nearby stack of paper napkins and unscrewed the bottle of recently christened peroxide. "This is going to hurt worse than anything."

"Are you always this honest?"

She had to smile at his attitude. Her younger brother had always favored sarcasm as the best form of expression.

Her patient's eyes closed before she began daubing away the blood. His face went another shade paler and his clenched lips trembled. When the wounds were clean, she wrapped them in gauze and tape.

She glanced at the curtains and saw the shadows of the shelter workers gathered behind the cloth. She cursed under her breath and went over to the curtains and pulled them back a few inches.

"Make yourselves useful and find me a clean shirt for him." Their mad rush as they scattered throughout the shelter to hunt surprised her. Only moments later a little man, no taller than her waist, stumbled over with a worn dress shirt clutched in his hands. He passed it to her as if it were a precious thing, his cramped hands twitching. "Tell Caleb it was me," he said. Shaking her head, she quickly pulled the curtain closed. Did she even know the little man's name?

"Caleb?"

The young man nodded. "You never told me what you wanted." Marie felt his hand lightly grip her arm. Instinct wanted her to shake her head and answer him with a muttered "Nothing." But suddenly she was thinking; unbidden, her mind turned back through the last few weeks. The sadness and loneliness, the pain of missing the Jess she had fallen in love with so many months ago, washed over her. Emotions she had fought down and kept at bay in the clinic threatened once more. As the memories went by she realized she was talking, softly, but she couldn't follow what she was saying. It felt like she had woken with the remnants of a dream still drifting about her head. Caleb let go and frowned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Habit." Marie didn't understand why he was apologizing. Wasn't she the teary-eyed one who had to turn away a moment and take a few deep breaths to compose herself? She wiped her face with her hands. "You should stay here, at least for tonight."

Caleb shook his head. "That would be wrong for so many reasons." He glanced at the curtain separating them from the rest of the shelter.

"Do you have someplace to go?" She almost offered her place and that unnerved her. How had he managed to bypass her walls?

"Yeah. I'll be back soon so you can give me a second opinion." She laughed. He tried and winced.

"I don't have anything for pain."

"Don't worry, I'll bring enough for both of us."

Part 2 of 2

Clay,

This is the third time I've tried to write this letter. Why were the others so much easier?

I think it's because I don't know how to begin it.

With Jess? Guess I have to, really. Otherwise, if I talk about myself and what's been happening, well, doesn't that really mean I'm not thinking about Jess as much anymore, that she's secondary? I remember when she was all I ever thought about. When I would call her three times during the day just so I could hear her voice. Now we barely talk. I barely even see her! What to do? Damn, why can't I pick up one of these phones (they're everywhere in the office!) and just call you?

As for me, I'm crying now. Here, I'll wet this with a teardrop on my finger for you to see. Not good. Let's change the subject.

Been spending so much time at the shelter. Last night I even fell asleep there. I woke up later but the workers there wouldn't let me walk home at that hour, so I ended up lying on a cot until the Percocet I took kicked in.

Which brings me to what I almost started this letter with. Caleb. Oh, you would like this boy so much! Remember what you were like in college, the "asshole with a heart"?

That's him too. I think he's as lonely as you were then. Anyway, he's the one that always brings supplies to the shelter, and a few days ago he came in all bloody. Don't ask from what, it would only sound crazy. Like everything else here does. So I patched him up and, weirdly, we connected. Yesterday, while I was helping this little girl who had hair like spun glass (I swear! It chimed when she moved), he came into the shelter holding a shopping bag filled with things just for me. Including the painkillers.

He's Talented. I've talked with the others at the shelter and they tell wild stories about him, not all of them good. Even though he brings plenty of supplies, they think he should do more.

Aren't you bored with the film student yet?

Love,

Marie

"So how long have you been here?"

As he walked beside her, Caleb ran his hand along the brick walls of the buildings they passed. "Inside?" He thought for a moment. "Maybe since reality Fell away here. I don't even remember what it's like out there beyond the walls." He sounded wistful to Marie, and she wondered if even the notorious get lonely. Up ahead she saw the steps to her building. "Are you sure you don't want to come up for dinner?"

Caleb shook his head. "Thanks, but I have some rounds to make." He squeezed her arm good-bye.

Marie watched him walk off, then went inside. She shifted the bag of leftovers from that evening's meal at the shelter to her other hand and was about to open the door to their apartment when she heard the voices: a conversation, coming from behind the thin wood of the office door. The voices were not clear enough to understood the words, and she pressed her ear against the door, feeling immediately silly.

Who was inside? Jess home early from a lesson? Had she brought her teacher back with her? Marie inwardly groaned at the thought of that revolting man in their home. She opened the door, preparing herself for the sight of the anthvoke, but Jess was alone and cradling a moth-worn teddy bear. Marie stumbled a little and her mouth fell open. Which was worse, the fact that Jess wore rags that once were a little girl's sundress, or that the stuffed animal's mouth opened and closed rhythmically, miming every word Jess spoke in a child's falsetto?

Marie couldn't stop herself from shouting. Jess's name, maybe some curses, she wasn't sure exactly what she yelled. The leftovers fell with a soggy thump onto the floor. Jess didn't turn around, didn't drop the bear. She seemed lost in chatter about what kind of ice cream the sky was made out of. Marie should have been frightened, but a perverse jealousy at seeing how Jess cradled the bear in her arms pushed her onward. A swift grab tore the toy from Jess. Marie was repulsed by the look of the thing, all ratty with one eye, like a corpse of a toy. It even smelled musty. Where had Jess gotten it? The dumpster?

Her lover began to shriek insanely, arms up and clawing at Marie, wanting the bear back. Marie went to the window, the same one all of Jess's new clothes had been tossed from; she opened it and let the bear go. Jess let out one long wail, then collapsed, crying. Marie dared to go to her, to put her arms around her and try and rock whatever hurt her away. At first Jess fought against her, but soon the struggles quieted and with them most of the tears.

"Why can't you let me have this?"

"It's wrong, so wrong. Can't you see?"

Jess pushed away from Marie and wouldn't look at her. "What's wrong with being different?"

"I don't want you to be different. I love the old Jess."

"I didn't. I hate her." As if to prove it, she made a fist and struck her own thigh.

"Would you rather have the new Jess over me?" Marie asked.

"Do I need to choose?" Jess wiped at the tears on her face. Marie could not answer her. There seemed nothing left for her to say, so she got up and picked up the leftovers and took them towards the little cubicle in the office that had the refrigerator and the microwave and warmed her dinner. She barely had an appetite.

Clay,

Jess is asleep in the other room. I think it's after midnight. Even though she's just lying a few feet away she's truly gone. Today I found her . . . damn, how can I say this? I don't know if she's fucked up her lessons or if all anthvokes are lost in the past, but somehow she's not "here" anymore. Before she collapsed into a deep sleep, I think she called me Holly. Probably a friend from kindergarten.

I don't know what to do. I feel torn up with guilt for letting her do this to herself. I can't compete, especially if this is her heart's desire. There was a time I thought I was. Marie

Though she had been awake ever since the sunlight found its way through the blinds to shine on her face, Marie stayed next to Jess in the sleeping bag. If she kept her eyes closed and her right arm draped over Jess's chest, then it felt like they still lived together in Philly, off of Lombard Street, and by twelve they'd be heading off to Sisters for that awesome Sunday brunch. But the illusion was not perfect. She could feel the hard floor beneath the sleeping bag, not the pillow top of their mattress. And her fingers were slightly stroking not the soft cotton sleepwear Jess had once favored, but the filmy rags from last night. The two girls that had fallen asleep together nearly every night with one last kiss were long gone.

She knew there was no real point in lying there next to Jess except to torture herself. With a groan, she sat up. She walked down the dimly lit hall to the bathrooms. The electricity didn't work inside --she was never sure where it would work, in the Fallen. Just as well, though. She didn't really want to see her swollen eyes in the mirror. She splashed cold water on her face and then turned the hot faucet. She washed up as best as she could; they had a working shower at the shelter she'd use later on.

Her face still seemed wet after she dried off, and when a salty trickle met her mouth, she realized she had been silently crying without thinking. She wandered about the office to decide what to take with, but nothing was really hers. All of it belonged to Jess or had been bought for Jess. Except for the letters she had written to Clay, kept on a desk by the dead fax machine. When had she let her life become subsumed in another's? She wiped at her eyes. She could leave a note, but Jess probably wouldn't even notice it. On the quiet walk to the shelter she barely looked up from the street. At the glass door, she stopped only because someone stepped in front of her.

"I've been waiting for you."

She blinked and saw Caleb standing there. He wore a smirk along with a tight red-ribbed T-shirt and what had to be the same black jeans as the other day.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded and lightly touched his shoulder. "Better than you, I think." He looked down the street. "Let's take a walk."

Marie followed him.

"I owe you for fixing me up the other day."

She was about to speak, but he held up a hand to quiet her. "No, listen first, then you can tell me what you think." He stopped and looked around some more, acting secretive.

He even whispered, though no one else was around. "Would you like me to get you out of here?"

"What?"

"Shhh. I can get you past the walls. It won't be easy, but you seem miserable here because of Jess. So I'm offering you an out."

She stepped back, felt the hard brick wall against her. Lots of the people who came to the shelter griped about being trapped in the Fallen Area. Most truly were. The ones changed by the Fall, the Afflicted and those that had developed their Talents, couldn't survive long Outside. The rest --well, once you decided to enter through the barbed wire and immense walls surrounding the city, the guards at the gate would prevent your return. Still, the thought of returning home was intoxicating.

But she found herself saying "No."

Caleb looked at her, but his reaction was unreadable.

"I can't leave her." She looked back in the direction of the office they shared. How could she have thought about deserting Jess? She felt on fire, angry with herself, terribly ashamed. "I need to go back."

"Let me come with you, then. I may be able to help with Jess."

"How do you know her?" Suspicion suddenly ran through her. They all said Caleb was Talented. Was he a friend of the anthvoke's?

"Relax. I only found out about her through you." Marie rubbed at her face. "I told you?" She began to remember that moment at the shelter with Caleb when she had mumbled things to him. He nodded. "Sort of. Anyway, maybe together we can reach her." He took hold of her hand and squeezed. "I think she'd come around if she realized what she's losing."

Together they headed back, stopping at the shelter door. Through the glass she saw the usual crowd of misfits, refugees, and normals within.

"It's this way." Marie pointed down the block.

"My way is quicker." He took hold of the door handle. When he opened it, she saw not the shelter's interior but the office. Across the room, Jess still lay sleeping.

"How?" She leaned on the doorjamb, feeling lost. Caleb grinned. "Not everyone in the Fallen will hurt you, Marie." She remembered that he was Talented. But all her hesitation began to fall away

--if there was any chance Jess could be returned to her. . . . She followed Caleb in.

"There are two things I can do. I can open her eyes to your feelings and make her more aware of them. Hopefully she'll realize she's hurting you and come back to you."

"And the second choice?"

Caleb looked away from her. "It's cruel. I open her heart to you. Metaphysically. Forces her to fall in love with you, to ache for you." He shook his head slowly.

"But I doubt it's really true love."

The thought horrified Marie. "No, not that way." If opening Jess's eyes failed, it might well mean that she never had really loved Marie, at least not enough to matter.

"Wake her up."

Marie knelt down beside the slumbering figure and lightly kissed her ear. The faint scents of sweat and body odor drifted from Jess, and Marie wondered when she'd last taken a shower. Jess had once seemed to Marie an "incorruptible," always giving off a sweet smell.

"Jess." She gently shook her by the arm.

The sleeper began to stir, first moving her lips a little, and then opening her delicate eyelashes.

"Marie?" Jess looked surprised to see her there. Had her dreams somehow picked up on Marie's decision to abandon her only an hour or so ago?

"Hey, sweetheart." Marie pointed at Caleb, who had sat down next to them.

"This is a friend. He's going to help us."

"Help us what? Are we missing something?" Jess yawned, a single strand of silvery saliva breaking apart on her lips.

"Yes. We are." And it all became so clear and yet more complicated. They both were missing each other, had gone astray. Not just Jess. When had Marie stopped understanding, stopped knowing what Jess was thinking? Maybe months ago, before they even set foot inside the Fallen Area. Marie turned to Caleb. "You have to do us both."

"What?"

"Open my eyes, too." She took Jess's hand in her own, weaving together their fingers in a welcome and familiar pattern. "I need to know why she wanted to come here. I need to know her again, as much as I want her to see me." Caleb's brow creased, and for a moment it made him look years older. Marie had to wonder what his real age was.

Jess seemed to notice him for the first time, her eyes narrowing. "Wait a sec, you're Talen--"

Caleb made a hushing sound and lifted both his hands, fingers spread wide apart. He waved his hands once before their faces, and that was all it took. Marie felt her head jerk slightly, her neck stiffen, as if unseen hands held her rigid. Her eyes widened to the verge of pain, but she saw nothing but blackness. For a moment

. . .

. . . their old apartment. Not cozy anymore, but stifling, with walls that were taller than she had ever noticed. Each one seemed so close. And everything seemed dull; the colors long since faded, with no shine whatsoever. She looked at the wall clock, which had a face so distorted she had to stare to read it. The twelve and the six were swollen out of proportion, leaving the other numbers almost unseen.

Where was she? Her hand lifted the television remote and she noticed that her lavender nail polish had started to chip. Once that would have sent her scurrying to the bedroom and to that drawer filled with bottles of every shade imaginable. But now she could only stare at the flawed edge and wonder if it even mattered how she looked. Her finger tapped the button on the remote and the television came to life. But she didn't bother to watch, could not hear anything. Why bother? Her gaze went back to the clock, waiting for the hands to reach six o'clock, when Marie would come back to her.

. . . the round table too small to seat three. A fat candle burned. On her right sat her lover. Marie seemed distracted, reading the autographs on the black and white photographs on the restaurant wall.

The other woman next to them shuffled a deck of cards. The backs of the tarot cards were decorated with Egyptian pyramids and a scraggly-looking camel. The first cards were laid down and though the woman's mouth moved, she couldn't hear a single word. No matter. The cards held her interest, not what was said. The urge to reach out and feel them, to touch the woman who struggled with an armful of swords, was nearly overwhelming. She glanced back at Marie, who smiled at her --a patient smile, she knew, but it had the same effect as all her different smiles: a sense of calm, of reassurance, came over her. Even though Marie did not believe in tarot or crystals or psychic hotlines, she believed in her. Soon cards covered the tabletop, arranged in an odd pattern that she wished she understood. They teased her with their pictures and exotic names. When was the last time anyone used the word Hierophant? Why didn't she know what it meant?

. . . the chamber was cramped, every space filled with things. So many wonderful old things. She wanted to explore the shop and all its treasures inch by inch but it was time for her lesson to begin.

She carefully made her way through to the back, which had been cleared for her studies. Darkness. That had been the first test, a few days ago, to evoke light. Now reaching out, not with her hands --that wouldn't have worked, as most of the lamps were broken --but with something within her. To find the lava lamps spaced around the room and bring them back to life was simple, and yet felt just as thrilling as the first time she had set them aglow. The light revealed a new challenge on the floor.

An old telephone, black Bakelite handle, cloth-covered cord broken and frayed at the end. She knelt down in front of it, hesitated, and gave herself a moment to breathe deeply. A broken fingernail tapped the metal rotary dial. With her other hand she lifted the receiver. It felt heavy to her touch, different from all the cheap plastic phones she had held in the past. Different but somehow right. She brought it to her face and mouthed the word "Hello" again and again. She closed her eyes and envisioned a spread of warmth flowing from her chest, up her throat, past her lips into the receiver. Her teeth began to ache, but then came the reward of a dial tone. Her eyes flew open and she gasped in pleasure. Who to call? Who to share this joy, this sense of magic with? Her first thought, as it often was, was Marie. The dial began to move, turning of its own accord, and she heard the line ring. An automatic voice answered, the name of some realty company. The office. The empty office. She slowly put the phone down. Marie wasn't there, not there to share with her. . . .

Her eyes suddenly felt raw and dry, and she blinked with relief at finally being able to close her heavy lids. When she could see clearly again, her first sight was Jess crying, soft sobs that lightly shook her. Caleb let out a breath and collapsed backwards to the floor, his lips parted as he gasped for small breaths. There was a tug on her hand, and she remembered that Jess and she were still holding onto each other. Jess brought their hands to her face and rubbed them over her wet eyes then down to her mouth and lips. She whispered words, and Marie moved closer to hear them. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Then they were kissing, and, for a moment, breathless.

She found Caleb standing by the front door. He looked tired. She wanted to speak, to offer the perfect "thank you" and let him know how much it meant to have her love back. But even calm, she would never be able to express everything in words, and so she just wrapped her arms around him and put her head on his lean chest. She felt him return the hug with a squeeze.

"I'll tell the shelter that you won't be coming in today." She let him go and watched as he opened the door. Beyond she saw the street three floors below them. He nodded good-bye and left them alone.

Clay,

We're together! We're together! Part of me wants to sing and another part to cry. Happy tears, though. I can't tell you know how it happened, I need to think, let it all sink in. All I know is that months ago Jess and I had been growing apart. She was miserable, feeling lost, alone, and worthless. She needed to feel special, not from me but from within. That's why she came to the Fallen, to be something. Not to leave me behind. I know now she has always thought of me, loved me.

Last night she went with me to the shelter and helped out. It was amazing. They have this old coffeepot in the back, and thanks to Jess it works now. Unlimited free java! She basked in their thanks. I think she finally realizes that to feel special she had to start from within. We came home and made love for hours, and fell asleep entwined. We're going to take a morning walk, but I wanted to write you that everything's turned around. I'd forgotten what hope felt like. I would put this letter with the others, 'cept I don't know where they disappeared to. Maybe this office is haunted. If so, well, the ghosts got an eyeful last night!

Love. . . yes, I'm in love.

Marie

Marie stepped outside into the warm sunlight and found Caleb sitting on the sidewalk outside the office building. He smiled up at her and held up a chocolate bar. "I brought gifts."

Marie practically purred and sat down beside him. "Jess and I were hoping to see you tonight." She took the offered candy and quickly tore away the foil wrapping. She could resist the smell for only a few seconds, but she held back to just a nibble. Like a drug, the seductive taste of rich chocolate evoked emotions: happiness at having something sweet melting in her mouth, followed quickly by a little guilt --she didn't really need all the calories. She looked at the candy and sighed. Why did she always become so attached to things that were bad for her?

"That's supposed to make you happy."

"It does." But she couldn't sound enthusiastic. "Maybe you could make me see how wrong it is to eat this."

He laughed. "Maybe."

She took another bite, bringing a sweet shrouded almond into her mouth and sucking away the chocolate surrounding it. "By the way, I've been curious."

"Yes?"

"Remember plan B, opening the heart? Have you ever done that? Made someone love you?"

Caleb softly muttered, "A few times." He looked down at his worn sneakers and slumped his body forward a little.

She instantly felt bad that she'd brought the subject up. "You said gifts. What else did you bring?"

"Yeah." Caleb reached into the pocket of his jeans and brought out a piece of folded stationery.

Marie opened it along the first crease, careful not to smudge it with melted chocolate, and saw the familiar blue ink and Clay's unmistakable long cursive script.

"You took the letters!"

He nodded. "I think he was surprised that you bothered to write them." Her heart skipped in her chest. This boy had returned everything to her --the love of her friend, the love of her partner --he truly could do anything. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a little sugary imprint on the pale skin.

"We've been thinking about you." Both looked up to see Jess standing just outside the lobby door. She smoothed out the waist of the brown velveteen dress she wore, and then slowly walked down the steps. She leaned down and kissed the top of Marie's head. "We've been thinking of a way to reward you." Marie nodded. "Wasn't easy deciding what to get."

"Wait a sec, you don't have to--"

"Shhh, too late." Jess reached into the small purse at her side and pulled out something small with curving metal lines. Marie took hold of Caleb's hands, cupping them together so that Jess could set the antique spectacles on his palms. The metal ends of the frames curled up like the legs of some spindly insect, and the glass lenses caught the warm reflection of the afternoon sun.

"Since you opened our eyes," Marie said, "we thought this was sort of fitting." Jess moved closer against Marie, slipping her arm around her shoulder. "They're British. From 1910." Almost as if it were a side thought, she added, "Clay likes men in glasses."

Dearest Marie,

What to say? Here I have been thinking you were lost forever, and these letters show up through my mail slot.

I read every word you wrote. The words reached deep within me, and after each letter I found myself wishing I could be there by your side. Of course, this whole Fallen business sounds dreadful, so perhaps it is best that I was a comfort in spirit. I am left with, what to say? I am relieved and thrilled that Jess is yours once more. If only my dalliance with the film student had lasted as long your time of trial. I envy the love you two share, and will hold it in mind on my next romantic encounter. Fate willing (or should I make that Fallen willing?), I will hear from you again. I trust that the same agent that brought me your letters will convey mine to you. Your dearest friend indeed,

Clayton

Copyright © 2001 Steve Berman