Megan Lindholm - Wizard of the Pigeons

She had his hand. He looked down in some surprise, wondering why he hadn’t noticed her touch before. Her hands were white in contrast to his. His were browned and bony with little gristly scars on his knuckles. The comparison made him feel strong. She squeezed his hand gently, and the touch was good.

“You haven’t told me a thing about yourself. And I’ve talked and talked about me, and I suddenly realize that I just bought dinner for a man, I don’t even know his name. So what’s your name?”

The simple question stopped him cold. He had not realized how much he had relaxed in her company until the iciness of her querying tightened his muscles. He searched her face for signs of treachery. Her blue eyes went wider at his grim expression and her smile lost its confidence. He took a deep breath to spill out some sort of an answer, but it came out as a racking cough. It didn’t stop. It tortured him, driving the air from his lungs, reddening his face and making tears roll from the comers of his eyes- He pushed against Lynda and then staggered to his feet, his hands on his knees as he bent to try and take in air. Other customers were looking up in dismay, and one man rose to ask her if her friend were choking. Wizard shook his head in an emphatic no. “Air,” he gasped. “Cold air.”

He shook Lynda’s grip from his sleeve and staggered out the door of City Picnics. In the hallway he headed for the stairs and clambered up them, still wheezing and hacking. The circle of his vision was narrowing, darkness closing in from the periphery. He got the door open and staggered out onto the sidewalk, to lean up against the building. His chest did not feel so compressed here. He began to take small, short breaths and men longer, deeper ones. His face was stilt cooling when Lynda dashed out the door, her head swiveling in all directions.

“There you are!” she exclaimed. She dropped her shopping bag and shrugged into her raincoat, gripping her purse strap with her teeth.“Are you all right?” she demanded as soon as her mouth was empty. “That was just awful! Everyone was so worried, but I said it was just a bronchial attack and grabbed my stuff and followed you. I could tell you didn’t want everyone making a big fuss over you. Now, are you okay?”

Wizard nodded slowly. He straightened from leaning on the building, and she instantly had his arm. She was strong, taking part of his weight whether he wanted her to or not. She began to steer him slowly down the sidewalk, talking all the while.

That was one good tiling about her. She talked so much that he had to say almost nothing at all. Now, why was that good? he wondered. He tuned into her monologue. “… Hot buttered rum. Or a hot toddy or Irish coffee- Something hot. I bet I know a good place for that It’ll cut that junk in your throat and make you feel better. Warm you up inside. Come on, it’s only a few blocks from here.”

Wizard found himself nodding as he leaned against her support. She fit neatly under his arm- A hooker walked past them, headed in the opposite direction. Her heels tacked clearly against the pavement as she strode along, heading for more heavily traveled streets. He had a brief impression of her short bright dress, the elegantly casual coiling of her hair upon her shoulders that was her only wrap against the cold November night, and her parted lips shining in the lamplight. Then her black empty eyes hit him with a bolt of sadness that staggered him back against the wall of the building. She turned her head as she passed, tearing him with the hooks of her smile. Her agony raced through him. For a second he felt sure that, had he been alone, she would have said something to him, and he would have Known something to tell her. But he wasn’t alone, and he didn’t Know, and she kept clipping along, her footsteps fading swiftly from his hearing. He rubbed his forehead and pushed the hair back from his face. Lynda was staring at him.

He had almost forgotten her.

“What was that?” she demanded, little lights dancing angrily in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” he managed. Then more words pushed up out of him, words he hadn’t consciously planned to say. “Lynda.

I have to go home now. Thank you for treating me so kindly. But.“

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She gripped his arm firmly and hauled him up beside her. “Some chippie walks past and gives you the eye, and you decide to drop me and give chase, huh?”‘

“No. No, not that way at all!”

“I know!” Her tone changed, and he stared at her, astonished. She had been joking with him. he realized giddily. Joking. “No, I knew you weren’t going after her- But I also know where you were going. What are you worried about? That they’ll run out of cots at the shelter? Forget that tonight. You’re with me now, and I plan to take good care of you. We’re going to take care of that cough and get you all straightened around.

You just wait and see. And trust me. I mean it now- Trust me. Come on.“

She dragged at him like a riptide. There was no resistance left in him. He pushed away his worries as she wrapped his arm around her. They walked, he paying no attention to where they were going.

Second Avenue South. It took a while for him to recognize it, lit up for the evening trade. Neon signs and streetlights and the headlights of passing cars gave more light to the barren streets than they got by day. The brightness of a beer advertisement in the night dazzled his eyes. But the place she chose for them was neither bright nor inviting. She trundled him past the Silver Dollar, Bogart’s, and the Columbus Tavern to draw him into a place whose name he didn’t notice.

The door was heavy, but she dragged him inside. Most of the interior space was devoted to pool tables with low, shaded lights dangling over the green felt. The men playing were working men. Regulars. It was obvious from a glance that he had entered their territory and they looked up from their games to stare at Wizard for longer than was polite. There was a long bar to the right, and to this Lynda steered him.

She hitched her tidy hips neatly onto a seat, but Wizard mounted the backless stool as if it were a strange animal. A confusion of odors assaulted him. He left his eyes rove over the back shelves of tall bottles. “Teddy!” Lynda called out. She was in command here, and enjoying it. “Let us have a couple of Irish coffees. In mugs; I hate those phony glass things. Seems quiet in here tonight.”

It seemed anything but quiet to Wizard. There was the clack and rumble of the pool games and a large-pored man on television was excitedly relating the events of a ball game, backed by a chorus of male voices laughing and swearing and muttering. Above it all was the high-pitched whisper of the television tube, harmonizing with the special pitch of the fluorescent lights over the pool tables. Like tiny twin drills the high sounds bored into Wizard’s ears and temples. And there was a third type of sound, for his ears only. Danger was screaming in here, pressing in all around him like a million tiny needles trying to pierce his flesh with their warnings’ Danger and trap and an exposed back and an idiot on point and a coward on drag, they all screamed, all demanding his attention at once. His eyes roamed the room, trying to find the source of his uneasiness, but found nothing. Only people, the same sort of people he moved among every day. Teddy was setting mugs before them then.

“So where’s Booth these days?” Teddy asked Lynda in a genially teasing voice.

“Not here, thank God!” she replied emphatically. Something whizzed past Wizard’s mind, some very important clue. He went-groping after it, but just as he nearly had it, Lynda shook his arm. “Come on, I want you to drink this. It’ll do you good.

Clear your chest so you can breathe. Try it, baby.“ She set an example, sipping from her mug as her eyes darted around the room. He wondered what she was watching for.