A Heap of Broken Images (Summer, Part Three) What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. - T.S. Eliot.
Chapter Five: The Cover-Up
“Mom?” called out his sister’s voice, and Joe didn’t have time to think. He grabbed the journal, whatever it was, and, for lack of better options, shoved it behind a cookbook just as Julian, suddenly sounding terrified, cried out “Mom! Daddy!” and then burst into the kitchen.
Between her tone and her pallor, Joe assumed she had noticed that their living room looked like a murder scene. Her eyes were wide already, but went wider as she looked back and forth between Joe and Joanie, seemingly confused; her eyes flicked downward toward the floor and Joe knew she had seen Rafe. Her hand rose to her chest.
“What’s going on?” she asked in a whisper.
Joe tried to bluff. Maybe she hadn’t noticed Rafe yet. Maybe he could keep her talking, get her out of this room…Maybe Julian wasn’t as bright as he thought she was. “It’s okay,” he said, stepping forward quickly to put his hands on his sister’s shoulders. Joanie helpfully edged over to block the view of her unconscious friend on the floor a little better. When had Joanie made the transition from being his prisoner to being his accomplice? Why had he just had to have a moment of temporary insanity that had made trying to kiss her seem like a good idea the one moment she was in a position for him to make such an attempt? “There was just…John and Joanie got mugged on their way back from the movies,” he said, telling the truth as much as possible. “John’s in the hospital now, but he’ll be fine – “
“Not by the looks of our living room!” exclaimed Julian. “And why – why is she here, then? And why is there a guy tied up on our floor?” Joe could not think of a response to that. Julian looked between him and Joanie and suddenly her face went even whiter. “They know, don’t they?” she asked breathlessly.
“Yeah,” said Joanie, before Joe had to. “I do, anyway.”
Julian glared at her. “Then why aren’t you there with him?” demanded Julian, pointing at Rafe.
“Because I didn’t freak out,” said Joanie.
Joe realized there was no way to save the situation at this point. “Julian, she knows,” he said bluntly.
“That’s what we’re….” began Julian, but then she realized that Joe was not in the mood to just state the obvious for no reason. She stared at him. “She…you mean she knows-knows?” she asked disbelievingly.
“I do,” agreed Joanie – foolishly, Joe thought.
Julian opened and closed her mouth several times, clearly struggling. Joe sympathized. Finally, though, she put her face in her hands. “John,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Joe.
“I don't know what to do,” said Julian, her head still in her hands. “This is - I don't know what to do. I - I need to go tell William – “
“We're not calling William,” said Joe flatly. Joanie had her hand on her chest, but did not actually look that alarmed, just…wary. “Not yet, anyway."
“It’s going to get back to him anyway,” argued Julian. “It’s his department, and it’s not like we can cover this up – “
“We’ve got to cover some of it up,” argued Joe. “Do you not understand what we’re dealing with here, Julian? If we tell the whole truth, John’s going to go to jail - and maybe me and Mom with him now.”
Julian went pale again. “No – we can’t do that,” she said.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” said Joanie firmly, stepping up to them and ignoring Julian’s incredulous look at the Muggle in the room, the girl Joe and Julian could do almost literally anything to without her having a chance of stopping them, acting as though she were the one in charge. “I’m going to go home. Julian, you’re going to get your boyfriend – and – and you’re going to leave me out of it. Rafe’s going to be the only one who saw anything.” For a moment, Joanie looked extremely stressed, no doubt at selling Rafe out, but she recovered quickly. “There’s your pound of flesh. Then you’re going to go to the hospital so your mom knows what’s going on and doesn’t say anything to contradict us.”
“If she already hasn’t,” observed Julian. “And that’s such a convenient plan for you, isn’t it, Joanie?” she added contemptuously. “You get to leave on your own and run wherever you want, tell whatever you want – “
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Julian,” snapped Joanie, just as contemptuously. “I’ve kept your damn secret for nearly ten years, I’m not going to spill it now. Why would I? All I’m trying to do is help my friend.”
Julian flushed. “Do not act like you care more about my brother than I do,” she said in a dangerous voice, but Joanie was undaunted.
“Then don’t act like I do,” said Joanie. “If I was only doing what was best for me, I’d have let him die right there in the street and run away and no-one ever would have known I was there, but I didn’t – “
“But you thought about it,” said Julian, and Joanie stepped closer to Julian in a way that made Joe think violence was imminent. He caught Joanie’s arm before it could get to that point.
“Hey, hey, hey!” he said sharply. “This isn’t helping.” He looked desperately at his sister. “Julian, I don’t like this, either, but unless I go with Joanie and leave Rafe here alone, I don’t see that we have better options.”
* * * * * * * *
For an hour, according to the clock on the wall across from her, Alison had been trying to pray. For an hour, she had, for the first troubled time in her life that she could remember, been failing. All she could manage was Please, please, and that was not, she thought, enough.
“Mrs. Umland?”
Alison started, then rose rapidly to her feet. “Yes?” she asked.
“First the good news,” said the Healer, and Alison thanked God they had at least drawn someone kind enough to use the words good news up front in this situation. Perhaps this man had a son of his own, or a daughter; perhaps he could imagine how she felt. “We were able to stabilize your son's condition.”
Alison sighed in relief and made the sign of the cross. “So John will be all right?” she asked.
“With any luck, yes.”
“With luck,” repeated Alison.
“We don’t have anyone on staff who’s familiar with this type of injury, so we’re reaching out to colleagues….”
Alison decided this was not important, at least not right now. “Where is my son?” she asked. “I want to see him now.” The Healer hesitated and terror rose to meet her again. “What is it?” she asked. “Where is my son?”
“It’s not possible for you to see your son right now.”
“Why not?”
The Healer looked acutely uncomfortable. “The nature of his injury was obviously non-magical,” said the Healer. “We’re required to report such incidents to the authorities...”
Alison swayed on her feet as the implications of this struck her. John was injured, alone, and being interrogated. Alone. Her baby, her special child – reason, for one of the very few times in her life, abandoned her. She could not let them take away her boy. “I have to see my son,” she exclaimed, and tried to push past the Healer, who grabbed her, blocking her way. “Let me go, I have to see my son - !”
“Mrs. Umland, Mrs. Umland, please – “
“What is going on here?”
Alison and the Healer both turned at the same moment toward William Welles, who was looking at them both with astonishment. Alison only stared back for a moment, though, before she jerked her arm away from the Healer and hurried toward her future son-in-law.
“William,” she said. “It’s John, he’s – “
William held up a hand. “I know,” he said, almost curtly. “Julian told me.” Alison stared at him in surprise, wondering how – and, for that matter, what exactly - Julian had found out. Suddenly, she was even more afraid. What had Julian done? William, however, was not paying her any attention now. “Sir, I am William Welles, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and this lady is my mother-in-law,” he said. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of things from here.”
Mother-in-law. A relational term, and one that wasn’t technically true yet, so William had no reason to use it if he expected a relationship to Alison’s family to soon become very embarrassing to him. Maybe he didn’t know what Alison now strongly suspected. She thanked him repeatedly as he led her out of the waiting room.
“It’s all right, Alison,” said William, rubbing her back soothingly. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“Julian,” said Alison.
“I’m here,” said Julian, standing just outside the door. “Oh, Mom – “
They embraced. Alison stroked Julian’s hair and remembered it was her role to say something to reassure Julian, which was why it was a surprise that as she said, “It’s all right,” Julian leaned very close to her ear and mumbled, far too low for anyone else to hear, “don’t mention her.”
Alison pulled back to look at her daughter. Julian wiped her right eye with her fingers and then fidgeted with her hair. Yesterday, it had been unnaturally curly. Today, it was unnaturally straight, with the fringe pulled back in a barrette. “I’m sorry I’m only getting here now,” said Julian. “I got home and Joe told me what had happened – why there was blood everywhere and one – “ there was just the slightest hint of emphasis on that word – “of our neighbors tied up in our kitchen – and I realized we needed William – “
“You did the right thing,” said Alison, praying that this was so.
Julian nodded. “Do you – do you know anything about John?” she asked, sounding as though it took a great effort to form the question.
“Only that he’s alive,” said Alison.
Julian bit her lip. “I don’t know what to do,” she said in a low voice. “I want to stay with you, but I want to go to Joe, too, if I go home, he won’t be alone with Rafe…”
Again just the hint of emphasis. Alison nodded. “You should go home,” she said.
Julian looked grimly at her fiancé. “You’ll take care of them?” she asked. Her tone did rise slightly at the end of the sentence, making it technically a question, but everything else about the delivery and her posture did not fit with it really being a request. It was an order, softly-given but still given in a tone which suggested Julian did not even question that compliance would follow. Alison stared at her daughter.
“Of course, darling,” said William, putting an arm around her and kissing her temple. “You don’t need to worry about a thing.” He looked at Alison. “I was telling Julian earlier that the – trouble – from this will be minimal,” he explained. “Perhaps you and John both stretched a few legal niceties, from what she’s put together, but the codes exist to protect wizards and you both seem to have handled yourself admirably under the circumstances. I doubt you’d have anything to fear even if you did not know me and I did not know my great-uncle, but since you do – “ he shrugged, the dismissive gesture of one born to privileges that made ‘legal niceties’ vanish. Alison recognized the attitude; it was not so far from the world she had been born into in many ways.
“Thank you, William,” she said.
“Yes,” echoed Julian, resting her head on her fiancé’s shoulder for a moment before stepping forward to hug her mother again. “You’ll tell me as soon as you know anything?” she asked them both, and this time it was a question.
Alison nodded. “Of course,” she said.
* * * * * * * *
Running had, of course, occurred to Joanie as an option. Joe kissing her had been a shock at the time, and she didn’t know what would have happened if Julian had not turned up at that moment, but since things had played out the way they had, she’d had time to realize this was something she could turn to her advantage. She was used to thinking of Joe as John’s baby brother, too young to notice girls, but he was, she thought, nearly fifteen now, and apparently not like his brother. Between his attraction to her and her helping him in the argument with Julian, she thought she could persuade him to drop his guard, disable him, and run for it before he could recover enough to catch up with her. Unfortunately, though, that wouldn’t solve her problems even if everything went exactly according to plan. She had nowhere to go. They knew where she lived, anyone on the street could be a wizard out to get her, she had very limited resources, and if she broke faith with Julian, Julian was sure to break faith with her.
We’re all going to Hell.
John had never offered any context for that statement, and now he might never get the chance to do so. Joanie knew it was probably just part of shock and trauma and all the other disagreeable things she was going through on some level she didn’t quite notice, but she wanted to know what he had meant. How had this all begun? What had driven him to call her and say that?
“Did anything – happen today?” asked Joanie, looking at Joe. He looked back at her incredulously, and she qualified that statement. “Before – all this, I mean.”
Joe shrugged. “Why?” he asked.
“John was really freaked out about something when we met up,” she said.
Joe pinched the bridge of his nose in yet another gesture which reminded her of John. Clinically, she wondered if they always had the same gestures and she just hadn’t noticed, if they were really common gestures and she was just over-analyzing them at the moment, or if Joe was really mirroring John more than usual tonight. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean – I know something happened, but I don’t know what. Last night, he didn’t come home after Julian’s engagement party, and today, Julian kept – one minute she said it was her fault if anything happened to him, the next minute she couldn’t think of anything bad enough to say about him – and then he came in and turned around and left again saying he had to go to church. And I don’t know what happened before or after that.”
Joanie tried to imagine, but nothing that went through her head seemed at all realistic. “I don’t know, either,” she said. She rubbed her arms and tried to gather her nerve. “I should go,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Joe, to her relief. “I guess – that’s best. Joanie – “
“Yeah?” asked Joanie when he paused.
“I’m – sorry,” he said. “About – you know – “
Joanie half smiled. “Don’t worry about it,” she said.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” repeated Joanie. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” said Joe. “Tomorrow.”
* * * * * * * *
Chapter Six: A Crossroads
Julian had not been in a hospital since she was a small child, and she thought that visit had been very brief. She did not know quite what to do, which, she told herself, was ridiculous – it was no different, really, than visiting someone’s house, or even sitting around with her own family at night. If the whole family had come in and someone brought a chess table, she thought they could have almost pulled off the illusion of normalcy. Instead, she brought her mother a thermos of tea and an armload of books.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” she said by way of explanation when Mom stared at the disorganized heap.
Mom made a weak effort to smile. “You’re sweet,” she said.
Julian sat down beside her. “Everything’s been taken care of now,” she said quietly. “Rafe and Joanie are at their houses, as far as I know, no-one knows about her, and Dad and the other boys are at home with Joe now.” She twisted her engagement ring on her finger. “Paul wanted to come here, but I told him to stay with Joe until you left, that he was all shaken up.”
Her mother nodded, but didn’t say anything. John also said nothing; according to William, he was high as a kite and had been mumbling nonsense when William attempted to assure him the interrogators were gone, so it was probably for the best that he seemed to have passed out again. John babbling nonsense would have upset Mom even more, and that was one of the last things they needed.
“Did you know?” asked Julian.
“Know what?” asked Mom.
“Know what John had done.”
Mom shook her head. “No,” she said.
“I think I did,” said Julian.
“What?” asked Mom, sitting up straighter and removing her head from her hand as she looked incredulously at Julian.
“I think I knew,” repeated Julian. “That year, after that year with the Satori at school – I told him to stay away from Joanie, that if people thought he had a Muggle girlfriend, they might think it was him. But I think I knew. I just didn’t want to admit it.” Silence fell between them again for a moment. “I don’t think I could have just – fallen into covering it all up so easily if I didn’t already sort of know it,” added Julian.
“I’m sorry you had to do that,” said Mom.
Julian shook her head. “I didn’t have to,” said Julian. “I decided to.”
Her mother chose to read Aquinas. Julian picked up a Brontë novel, but stared through the pages, too lost in thoughts that evaporated as soon as she tried to examine them to read. After a while, she heard a flutter of pages, and reached out and caught her mother’s book just before it hit the floor. Mom had fallen asleep.
Julian put her own book away, feeling at loose ends again. She considered going home and switching places with one of the others, or else going to sleep herself, but both thoughts seemed repulsive as soon as they formed. She sighed, smoothed back her hair, and picked up a battered, illustrated Sir Gawain and the Green Knight before moving her chair over by the bed.
There is a certain subtle twilight mood, when two hearts meet in a dim solitude, that thrills the soul e’en to the fingertips, and brings the heart’s dear secrets to the lips.
She had told her secrets for love, she supposed – love of two parties. Not just for one. John had kept his as long as possible. Why?
And Gawain, though in valor next to none, wished that her heart had been a tenderer one. His sword was out for any foe on earth, and yet to face death for a lady’s mirth seemed scarce worthwhile.
Indeed it was not worth the while, and particularly not if the lady was Joanie Murphy. Julian had never seen what was so great about the other girl even on a basic level, never mind anything about her that warranted committing something close to treason. Ten years, Joanie had said. They had been children. It couldn’t have been sex then, could it? Not even if it were someone other than John, who was quite vocal about viewing sex purely as something necessary for the continuation of the species and seemed to regard it as a low sort of desire, something animalistic and at least a bit repulsive.
If you want a muse to take your part, you must be solely hers with all your heart; and I have mingled since my earliest youth my smiles and tears, my fictions and my truth.
Maybe it wasn’t so surprising. They were all liars by necessity, loyal to two worlds and so loyal to none. Their loyalties had been divided for them when they were too small to make up their own minds about anything. They’d never had a chance to be honest.
How long, O mortal man, wilt thou give heed To the world's phantom voices? The hours speed, And fame and fortune yield to moth and rust, And good and evil crumble into dust. Even now the sands are running in the glass; Set not your heart upon vain things that pass; Ambitions, honors, toils, are but the snare Where lurks for aye the blind old world's despair.
Why, though? What had John hoped to accomplish by betraying his own people, his own family…?
Love? What is love? Not the wild feverish thrill, When heart to heart the thronging pulses fill, And lips that close in parching kisses find No speech but those;--the best remains behind. The tranquil spirit--the divine assurance That this life's seemings have a high endurance--
She heard a small noise and looked up sharply. John seemed to be looking at her, and she realized that she had been reading part of the conclusion of the poem, when Gawain met the knight, quietly but audibly.
“I made the red blood spirt,” muttered John, “for…you played me false.”
For some reason, Julian felt her eyes filling with tears. She sniffled and then blinked them away. “Your fault was small,” she recited unsteadily, “for all men hold life dear.”
“But it’s Wrong,” replied John. “Blind idols…It was all wrong. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry….”
Julian let the book fall to the floor as she leaned forward to press her brother’s hand between hers. “It’s all right,” she said quickly. “Just be quiet, rest…”
“I thought I was doing it right,” said John. “But I was wrong.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” said Julian.
“Pride goes before disaster. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mother….”
Mother.
Julian put her hands back in her lap and sat back in the chair. Mother. Sometimes she had been teased by all her brothers for being motherly toward John and Joe, but he wouldn’t call her ‘Mother’ except in jest, and he did not sound as though all the drugs he had been given had put him into a joking mood.
He wasn’t speaking to her.
* * * * * * * *
So many potions had been poured down John’s throat in the…relatively recent past, he thought…that he was no longer sure how many there had been, much less which one was responsible for turning his blood to fire. When that had begun, he had briefly believed he was actually in Hell, but then he had realized why the pain kept waxing and waning at extremely short intervals: he had a pulse, and it was the operation of his circulatory system which caused the throbbing. This had led him to conclude he was still alive.
If he was in Hell, he had reasoned, he was dead, and if he was dead, his body was decaying on Earth and did not have a pulse. There were a tiny number of circumstances which could somehow involve him going to Hell while in possession of a body, but they were all unlikely enough to have occurred at the exact moment he’d briefly (probably briefly, anyway; he had lost all track of space and time, but if it had been long, surely he would not hurt so much anymore) lost consciousness that he thought it was safest to assume he was still alive.
It was not an altogether reassuring assumption. Not only did being alive mean he was in pain, it also meant there was an off chance that some of the things he could see around him were real. His vision kept becoming obscured by dark banks of inexplicable fog (was he outside? He thought he remembered going inside), but sometimes, he blurrily made out a white room and people around him: Theodore Wolseithcrafte reading a magazine, Lenore and Burhan arranging yellow roses in a vase, Aislinn walking around talking about favorite equations, Julian walking around silently in a long golden dress, Miss Breaman walking around singing to herself, and two people in suits who kept asking questions, questions apparently meant for John. John would have answered, but when he had shouted at Miss Breaman to go away, someone had made him drink another potion. It had tasted vile, so he had decided to just ignore them all and let the real ones and the not real ones sort themselves out.
If only they would all be quiet!
New noises joined the din as he dozed, not quite awake and not quite unconscious, either. Lots of feet. John shivered as a breeze moved across him, then regretted it as even that movement made him hurt worse. A clear voice suddenly cut through the mumbles; John couldn’t quite understand the words, somehow, but he knew the voice. What was Billy Boy doing here?
Suddenly the suits were gone and William was leaning over him, a bright golden blur. John put his hand up to ward the older wizard off, but William caught his wrist and started talking. John had understood words – ‘all right’, ‘self-defense,’ ‘taking care of it,’ ‘your mother…’
Those words had terrified him for a moment, before he was completely distracted by a new input: the smell of lavender. Lavender tasted vile, but as a fragrance, it was perfectly acceptable, because his mother often wore it. Mom’s voice, too, had appeared, and said things about ‘all right’, and he had relaxed a little, enough to fall asleep again until he heard a voice – not Mom’s – reading.
“My friend, we bear each other no ill will.”
John had managed to open his eyes a little and make out a shape next to him. Long dark hair, pale dress, a sharp gleam of gold –
So he was dying, then – but he had not yet confessed. The Lady assured him with more of the knight’s words, but he knew he had to confess. He wanted to explain, but realized as he began that he should not. It did not matter why he had thought he was doing all he had done; the fact was that he had done it wrong. He had been arrogant, assuming he was special, assuming he knew what was best, and now he was paying for his pride. He was most in need of mercy. He had to confess, and apologize.
“Pride goes before disaster,” he recited, acknowledging his fault. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mother….”
* * * * * * * *
It took a lot of effort, but at last, Julian convinced her mother to go home, at least long enough to change her clothes and have a decent cup of tea before bringing Paul along. Julian trusted Joe to do the rest of the job of convincing their mother she should have a bath and a calming draught and go to bed. She remained behind, only leaving long enough to get herself a cup of tea, much inferior to what she could get at home, from the hospital cafeteria. Tea would help her stay awake and soothe the painful knot in her chest, let her compose herself so she didn’t cry in front of any of the others when they arrived to back her up.
He hadn’t been speaking to her.
She had lied to her fiancé for him. She had endangered her own security, not to mention Mom’s and Joe’s, now, for him. She had compromised and given and given and given all these years, gone to every possible length, and now she had protected him even though that meant admitting she didn’t trust her own fiancé enough to assume he would help her do so. She had, in a very real sense, betrayed William as much tonight as John had evidently betrayed them all ten years ago. She had assumed the law would mean more to William than family did, just as some crack-brained notion of God knew what had meant more to John than family did….
The worst thing was that in that moment when she’d thought he’d been apologizing to her, that had been enough. She was that weak, she thought, that an apology had seemed like it could make all of that worth it, but he hadn’t even been able to give that much to her. He couldn’t make the smallest gesture of respect for her, give the smallest indication that he knew he had wronged her.
I grew up in Calgary Northwest. I love you. But that's not all there is anymore.
OOC Citation: Massey, John. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Illustrated). Corundum Classics. Kindle Edition.