Rachel Cantor - A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World

Sarita is his wife for the [ clap ] first six months! Sagrirta is his wife for the second!

Kafsephony is the king of the [ clap ] bottom ether! And Mehetzabel is his wife!

Who is the king of [ clap ] all the demons?

Samael is the king of [ clap ] all the demons! And great Lilith is his wife!

Oh, yes, Samael is the king of [ clap ] all the demons. Samael is king of them all!

That man was a lunatic, Carol said, returning to her meat. I should never have let you near him.

The singing and dancing left Leonard shaky. It was as if they’d opened a hole in the universe, and through it poured everything he had felt when his grandfather died — sorrow, and loneliness dry as a desert, and regret for the things he’d said during his grandfather’s last days. And memories — of the old man’s old-man smell, the chewing tobacco that stuck in his beard, the incomprehensible jokes he told about herring — and with them, all the stories his grandfather had ever told him, whole.

Mountains of salt

For several nights, Mill continued to describe his unfollowable itinerary from west to east, though his enthusiasm began to wane on the road to Cathay. Where he used to delight in describing corn markets and boiled wine, he now omitted detail and spoke as if by rote.

When Leonard inquired, Mill said he’d lost some of his native optimism. Lords and ladies continued to crowd his cell. They clamored for stories of his adventures, but Mill now found them irksome. Tell us about men with tails, they begged, tell us about men with earrings! Did you meet Prester John? Was the khan very manly? Is it true he had six dozen wives, some of them Carmelite nuns?

Those fops and coquettes didn’t share Mill’s fascination with Custom and Commerce — imagine! They brought their friends, they whispered and pointed as if Mill were a unicorn or porcupine. He no longer believed their promises: how would they amuse themselves if he were free?

In the evenings, he found himself alone with his fellows; they despised him for his special treatment, the obligation they felt when his guests arrived to remove their ragged, stinking selves to the edges of the cell. It was only because he shared his spoils, his cheeses and dried meats, that they didn’t violate him at night. He slept little in any case, for the sounds of their shitting, their resentful snores and creaks and cries, were louder and more noisome than anything he’d experienced at sea.

So Mill sighed and fell into deep silences, sometimes in the middle of a story. Leonard had to use all of his Listening skills to keep Mill going. He might hear Mill speak of the smell of the sea mingling with that of my saltwater tears and say, Where were we? You were describing the idolaters who buy beautiful wives …

The fat idolaters with small noses? Mill would ask.

Those exactly! Leonard would exclaim.

Yes, Mill would say, and he’d continue awhile longer, speaking without passion about dried melons, bandits, and lions; horned horses descended from Bucephalus. Idolaters who change the weather and cause statues to speak. Plains, mountains, and gorges; orchards, vineyards, and jeweled mountains; kings, counts, and khans.

Interesting! Leonard would say, and it was, mostly, compared with his White Room, which seemed whiter to him now, and more quiet than ever.

Really? Mill asked. I find none of it so interesting these days as that ship out there, or that bird flying up above.

You’ll be out soon, Leonard said, but he was doubtful — and in fact, he wasn’t sure Mill should be released. What would he do out in the world? Become one of those dirty men who travel in packs, stealing food from municipal compost heaps and begging at NP security windows? If he became troublesome they might brand him and force him outside the city walls. Mill might be crazy, but he didn’t deserve that.

Yes, my friend, Mill said, I will be outside soon — as will you, I am sure. But to what end? I have taken that desert, the name of which I dare not speak, inside me. I am sere, do you understand?

Maybe, Leonard said. I think so.

I fear I shall ever be. In prison or without, it shall always be the same. I am become the desert, dear Leonard.

Lonely, Leonard said.

Yes, Mill replied.

And lost, Leonard said. No Hello! lamps on Everything’s-Okay poles to show the way.

What a way you have with words! Mill replied. Oh, I long for the consolation of a woman! Do you ever feel this way?

Sometimes, Leonard said. Well, yes, all the time.

This shall be my first task after I am released: to find a wife. Have you a wife, dear Leonard? Perhaps some suckling babes?

I am only twenty-four, Leonard reminded him.

It is not too late! Mill said. Have you ever been with a European woman? A free European woman?

No, Leonard had to confess.

I neither, Mill said, and sighed. Just port prostitutes and slaves, and the women I spoke of earlier. Why did you never marry?

I am not so good with women, Leonard said.

Yes, yes, you have said this. But what skill do you lack? I am told that women are simple: they care only for wealth, position, and pretty compliments.

I’ll remember that, Leonard said, miserable.

Except Kokachin, Mill said thoughtfully. Kokachin was different.

Different?

She cared only that I listen.

I can do that! Leonard said. I can listen!

Hers was not a happy life, Mill added.

No?

I must go, Mill said, his voice shaking.

Time for bannocks

When Leonard went down to the house after his shift, he was surprised not to find Carol. She should have been flattening steep pants or making nourishment for Felix. He checked the stoveroom, the gameroom, Carol’s room. Though the latter was in its customary state of tumbled chaos — no knowing whether she’d slept there that night, or was there still, under a pile of crumpled leisure garb. He poked at the pile. She was not there.

He found Felix standing by the window in his bedroom, still wearing his ivy-green sleeping togs.

Where’s your mother? he asked, putting his arm on the boy’s shoulder.

I don’t know, Felix said. She didn’t come back from her book group.

You’ve been waiting all night?

I was worried.

You should have come to me.

I didn’t want you to worry.

It’s my job to worry, I’m a grown-up.

You are?

Of course I am.

Probably she was out with her book club and missed curfew, Felix said.

Probably, Leonard said. Did you sleep at all?

Not so much, Felix said.

Have you moved from the window since she left?

Not really, Felix said.

It was dark, you couldn’t see anything, Leonard said.

I could see, said Felix.

Stay home today, said Leonard. That way when your mother gets back, you’ll know she’s safe. And you can nap.

With Medusa?

If she’s willing. It’s hard to tell a cat what to do.

I tell her what to do.

She does what you say?

Unless I tell her to do something like fly, then she just gives me a look.

Time for bannocks, Leonard said.

What are you doing in my house?

When Carol finally returned it was several hours past dawn. Felix was sleeping in his room with Medusa, whom Leonard had lured into the house with haggis. Leonard was sitting in Felix’s swirly chair, ready for sleep himself, but he’d promised to stay awake so Felix wouldn’t have to.

He heard Carol’s tiptoeing; she herself, with her whisper-quiet sailing shoes, was silent but her house had a problem with creaking, especially in the morning. Leonard tiptoed out to meet her. She was wearing her black climbing suit and dust cap, but her face was sooted black and she smelled like … burnt hair?