You are the Words and I am the Tune

In the elevator, Vanessa felt surges of an excitement she had never felt as the uncertainty and fear of the unknown spread through her body. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Quest. The electricity seemed to flow between them. He hummed a few bars of a song she had never heard. Was she dreaming, was this really happening, could she really be doing this? She wondered if she had the nerve to pinch herself and continued to debate it as Quest sang:

                “You are the sun, I am the moon, you are the words- I am the tune. Play me.”

She turned to him in surprise but then the doors of the elevator opened and Quest stopped singing.  Then they were walking out into the sunlight and into a long black sedan. She hardly noticed the driver as Quest spoke some words to him and the car pulled away from the curb.

                Quest took her hand and held it as they rode in silence then Quest sang another song, but she knew it was the same song as before. He sang:

                “Eíste o í̱lios , eímai to fengári , pou eínai oi léxeis kai eímai o tónos . Paíxte me.”

                “What is that- you are singing.” She asked feeling the heat in their clasped hands.

                “An ancient incantation I once taught to a singer.” Quest looked over at her and smiled slyly “Or a song by this guy Neil Diamond. I just sang it in Greek- almost Akadian- my native tongue.”

                “Play me?”

                “It was a worthy incantation from the creator. Something worth remembering when things become dark and you find you need me- remember that you are the words and that I am the tune.”

                “Right.”

                “When the time comes you will know what I mean.” He said and gently squeezed her hand a bit tighter and then she knew something she had always known.

                “The way my mother knew when the time had come?”

                “Yes. I loved your mother and when she asked I answered her. It is the way things with us.”

                “Us?”

                “Us.” Quest looked old then, too old to fit in those clothes, this car, too old to be the handsome man that sat beside her. “The Asserrii have always been the guardians of things. I am Asserrii and I am a “iroas kataskevastis.”

                “A Iro is what?”

                “A hero maker.” Quest said. “It’s Akaddian for the English word hero-maker.”

                “Oh. I guess I am the hero then.”

                “You are the words, I am the tune.”

                “Fitting.” Vanessa said and knew that she was blushing, but she didn’t care she was with him whatever he was. Sometimes it is enough to ride the wind she thought and wondered if it were another song. She glanced at Quest half expecting him to start sing the song but he just winked at her.

chapter 3 or 4

Chapter 3

                Vanessa found herself back in front of the picture window looking out at the water of the bay. The drive home was better than she had expected, she had listened to Kenny Rogers on an old cassette that her father used to play when she was a girl. He would sing the songs from that tape over and over as he took her and her brothers back and forth to school. “Love will turn you around” played it guitar riffs and a soft peace settled on her as she drove.

                When would the ship come? Would it be the same boat that Uncle had folded up and put in his pocket? She smiled at the misty memory, hugging herself as she remembered the warmth of his embrace as he had carried her out of the boat and up the shore to the… standing stones? The memory flashed into her mind and suddenly she could feel the ocean breeze tickling the hair at the nape of her neck. She shivered at the thought as she reached up for his hand.

                Vanessa froze with her hand pressed against the window pane and the whistling wind was gone. She looked out into the night at the stars reflecting off the water. The stones faded away into the clouds crossing the sky and the reflection of her face looking back at her.  She blinked a few times and wondered if this was going to happen often. She pulled her arm down to her side, arched her back like a cat and yawned.

                She dressed for bed but then sat on the bed spread in the semi darkness wondering about what was going to happen next. How much time would she have before the ship would come to take her away? Did she have enough time to settle her affairs? Where would she store her stuff?

                Your stuff? Vanessa? Really, are you kidding me? She chided herself. She would need to sell it or give it away but to who? She shook herself not liking the thought of losing all she had gained for herself, the furniture, the pictures, the prints of Salvador and Elmore, her LCD TV…. She laughed. My stuff.

                Was Quest her Tyler Durden? Was she like the Fight Club guy, so attached to the things that had no meaning beyond the IKEA catalogs? Where she was going would there be any such need for a snap together couch or one of those nightmare book shelves of pressboard from Wal-Mart?

                If that was so, what could she expect to take with her? Would there be electricity? Oh god, would her cell phone get a signal? The giggle bubbled up from wherever the laugh had come from.

                Who am I kidding? Cell phone signal? Really, Vanessa get a grip! Am I so fickle? What do you want? Am I ready? Well what did she really want?

                I want to go home.

                She curled up in the sheets her mother had given her for Christmas in her bed from Rooms to go and tried to sleep in a condo that she now realized had never been her home. Sleep came finally but rest did not come for what seemed like an eternity.

Vanessa takes a breath

Vanessa took a deep breath. 

“It’s just I found I had a question- an important question and-“she trailed off as she tried to find the words to ask it one more time. She held up a hand to forestall another interruption.  “I realized that asking the question over the phone was not appropriate or the right thing to do, but the feeling had gotten out of hand and I got mad at myself and well, you know the rest. I am so sorry about hanging up on you but I was trying not to lose my cool and failing miserably so I knew I had to do it in person… I am sorry that I upset you Mom…Dad.”

“Apology accepted.” Her mother said looking relieved. The moment had passed and she was calm almost serene. “Now, what was the question?”

“Well.” Vanessa started then stopped not sure how to proceed. “Was I a-“the word would not come out right, it sounded to foreign, almost obscene?

“Yes?”

Why couldn’t she just ask? Why did she feel like she was somehow betraying all she had known? The same frustration threatened to engulf her as she sat there twisting her bangs. Yes, she had reached up and was nervously twisting her bangs like a teenager!

“Were you what, dear?” Her mother leaned forward as if to stand.

“This man came to my office today.” She pulled her hands down to her lap with sheer force of will. “This man came to my office today and he told me…. (dammit all over again) I was- am I adopted?”

There, now, was that so hard she chided herself. Vanessa nodded in satisfaction that she had managed to ask finally. She straightened the towel then realized she wasn’t looking at her parents, she had only asked the question by looking down at the floor, fervently hoping the answer would be no. She made herself look at them, her mother and father. When she did, she was struck by the mortality that she saw in them. She realized then she had never thought of them as mortal and fragile beings but now she could see that the question was a hard one. Her father’s eyes were wide in his face, she could see wrinkle lines on the edges of his face, his widow’s peak was more pronounced and the gray hair seemed to be announcing itself to the world.

Oh daddy, I am so sorry, she wanted to say and have him pick her up and toss her into the air as if she were five again. She didn’t, but she made herself look at her mother. Her mother had not changed so much as her father, but her mouth working up and down was less like sputtering as much as it was like an old cow chewing cud- no sound came from it so the bovine metaphor stuck and grew eerie as she waited for them to say something, anything.

“What man?” her father managed to say after a lifetime had passed and his eyes had narrowed again.

“I am not sure who he was, but I felt-like, like I might have known him once or rather like I should have known him a long time ago before. Before I came here.”

“Where is this coming from Van? Her mother interrupted

“Is it true?” She heard a small girl ask softly.

“Van.” Her mother said, dripping with practicality and correction, “some strange man comes in out of the blue and strolls into your office and suddenly you have doubts about who you are – what you are?”

“Is it true?” she asked again, but she already knew the answer, there had been no mistake, she felt a sudden pressure in her chest, but she had to hear them say it.

“Does it matter?” her father spoke into the silence “After all this time, does it matter?”

“Yes. She almost whispered. “It matters.”

“Well, you can hardly expect us to-“her mother began again.

But Vanessa knew as well as if they both had broadcasted it over the TV. She knew the truth of it even as the tears began to slide down her cheeks. This woman who sat across from her filled with indignation and outrage was not her mother. Even though she had comforted her and held her when her brothers- not the boys who she had thought-believed to be her brothers had hurt her feelings.  This woman was suddenly as strange as the man, Quest had seemed.

“Is it true!” She said and thought she had screamed it because her mother stopped mid sentence and gaped at her.

“Yes.” Her father, not the man she had thought was her father said. The look in his eyes told her that it had cost him his entire parenthood to say it. She wondered if she had just sacrificed the only father she had ever known for the answer.

“Now.” He said with finality. “Who was this man?”

“I don’t know.” She began but something tickled the base of her memory “he said he had known me- well rather that I had known him when I was four.”

“Four?” Her mother- Margaret repeated.

Then the memory came.

Mom speaks

The tee shirt was one she hadn’t worn in years, it was to her chagrin a little tight as she pulled it over her head, and she had abandoned her shirt and bra at the stairs, her father busying himself with shutting down the sprinkler system. She walked to the den door and paused to collect her thoughts, remind herself of the interminable patience required when dealing with her mother when she was upset and had to smile that while she had mastered it, mostly, Anne had always failed miserably. She inwardly winced at this since Anne lived across the street and this may explain why her mother was marginally crazy after years of dealing with Anne’s melodrama.

Her mother had taken up the habit of retreating into the sunken den whenever she became upset; this was initially caused by her children’s problems after most of them had grown up. Even her father did not intrude without prior notice given or something really pressing.  Over the last few years the den had become not only her mother’s sanctuary when life got too much for her but also her audience chamber where the penitent (her children) went to seek her wisdom and forgiveness.

Vanessa paused at the door then cautiously peeked in to find her mother in her usual spot- the couch. She stepped inside but waited by the door silently until her mother would notice her and permit entry. Her mother sat in the center of a baize couch that face the door, a coffee table sat in front of her strewn with the remains of used tissues from what Vanessa gathered were in fact only a small part her own offenses. This must have been a bad week for children where her mother was concerned.

Nervously, Vanessa cleared her throat. Her mother gave a small start and looked up at her, misery painted on her small face. Vanessa felt the pangs of guilt race into her gut as she surveyed the streaks in her mother’s makeup and swollen puffy eyes.  Vanessa opened her mouth to begin her litany but then stopped at her mother’s look of puzzlement.

“Mom?”

“Why are you wet?” her mother’s answer cut her off, “it’s not supposed to rain. Is it raining?”

“Dad turned on the sprinklers…”

“What does your father…” but she trailed off as if the realization of what her husband had just done finally dawned on her. “-have to do with- oh, okay…I see.”

“Mom.” Vanessa said as she carefully laid the towel down on the couch- where she would eventually sit. “I am sorry about upsetting you but;”

“Well you should be!” her mother interrupted again, here we go again, Vanessa thought resignedly.  “Never in all my years have you ever…EVER… talked to me in such an insolent fashion! Your own mother!”

“Mom.”

“I think after all I have done for you. Sacrificed for you.” Her mother bit off each phrase with expertly timed outrage. In short, Vanessa knew that her mother intended to pick up right where she had left off during the last infraction they had had three years ago. It was funny how one person could store up resentment over the smallest thing and run on it for years.

“Mom.”

“What have I done wrong, so wrong that you would hang up on me, not once but twice in the same day?”

“Nothing, it’s just that;”

“That’s right, nothing, I have done nothing of the kind and, and, and…” her mother wrung her hands as she tried to catch up with her point. “But be caring, compassionate, attentive, supportive, friendly, forgiving, loving, open-minded.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect, gracious, thoughtful, polite-“her mother was holding up fingers to count her virtues.

“Overbearing.”

“Overbear-“She finally stopped, maybe because she had run out of things to list or that she had realized that her daughter was interjecting words.

“Mom.”

“I am not finished!” She held out one commanding finger then sat back to take a breath and perhaps began again at the beginning of her rant.

“Margaret.”

Her mother froze her mouth open but no words came out.

“Margaret.” It was her father.

“What?”  Her mother asked, but she did not lower her hands

“Why don’t you give Van a chance to explain herself?” her father said from behind her.

Her Mother opened and closed her mouth a few more times, then closed it, nodded and sat back on her couch. Her father touched Vanessa on her shoulder softly as he walked past. He crossed the room and sat down next to her mother. Vanessa cleared her throat.

“Mom, first let me say I am sorry about the swearing;”

“Cussing. It was cussing.” Her mother interjected.

“Margaret, please.” Her father said as he mother was about to continue, he took both of her hands in his own lowering them to her lap as he looked into her eyes for a time.

“Cussing.” Vanessa conceded.

“It wasn’t at you or about you, it was just- well it was just the whole situation.”

Okay, Van, stop avoiding reality and get going – to face certain execution from your parents for cussing and hanging up on both of them. She made it halfway across the lawn before the sprinklers came on all around her. She yelped then sprinted through the deluge to the front door. She was soaked through with her shirt clinging to her skin by the time she made the top step. Her father stood at the door with a satisfied look on his face.

“Feel better?” She spluttered as she stood there glaring at her father.

“Immensely.”

“Look Dad, I-“

“It’s your mother you should be apologizing to.” He held out a towel. “She’s been in tears since you hung up on her.”

“Oh.”  And she stood there towel hanging loosely as her eyes fell to the patio floor as shame crept across her gooseflesh, pole axed.

“This isn’t like you, Van.” Her father reached out and touched his daughter, gently pushing on her chin until she raised her head. She looked at him; suddenly the 8 year old girl lost and bruised who had stood on that same porch all those years ago after losing a water gun fight with her brothers. Her father had dried her off and wiped away her tears.

“I Know.” She used the towel to wipe her own tears away and dry her face. At least her hair had escaped the sprinkler, she thought adjust the ball cap.

“I would expect something like this out of Anne>” Who had a long history of hanging up the phone on her mother and most of the rest of her family to boot.

“I know that Dad.”

“Or Tom or Kevin.” He continued.

“Kevin?” Kevin- The favorite son. He who could do no wrong.

“Last Christmas.” He shrugged, looking exasperated.

“Oh? What happened?” She asked as she began trying to towel off.

“Well! He went on a tear-“her father stopped and shook his head, then shook his finger at her.

“You should know- you were there. No you do know- you were standing next to him when he blew.”

“I know Dad, but-“

“You just tried to distract me, deflection 101- get one past the old man.” At least he was smiling.

“I was taught by the best.” She grinned up at him.

“Uh-huh, well since you are not going to get one by your old Dad, I would suggest you wander by the stairs and grab a fresh shirt and make your way into the den,” he gestured through the open doorway. “You mother awaits your apology in there.”

“What about you?”

“I will be in shortly.”

Introduction

Every book or almost every book really needs an introduction, something that attempts to pull you into the story which only officially begins in chapter One. Not every book gets an introduction and this I see as the author's arrogance to think that he or she is so good that you will read his or her book because you really want to and don't need to be persuaded. Here I am writing this in hopes that you will come back to see my novel unfold page by page, chapter by chapter until we both find that we in fact have written a book.
                                                                             yep, that's it, from me, the author and all those commas too.

we begin then.

  There a certain truths in the universe or universe depending on whose eyes your looking through or for that matter how many eyes the lucky soul whose eyes you look through. This is one truth, it is undeniable and holds a secret to a universe. A universe that I choose to not only live in but will invite you the viewer to see. My story is not necessarily what this story is about. My story is involved with this story but it really is her story.. Her story really begins with the beginning of all things and the creation of time- well our time, not in fact time itself, but most of that is quite boring. Instead I will begin her story with a song. In my eyes all stories begin with a song.
 What song you may ask? The song. The song the creator sang when hesheit created all things and not things that surround and fill us. Aos- that's what we call himherit, anyway Aos opened the Source and from it came the Song. The song has seven words - which will not be repeated her since I need this world to hold together a little while longer. Just take it from me that the Song is the most powerful force in our universe other than Aos the creator, although I guess one could say that Aos is the Song but I digress. All you really need or probably want to know is that it all began with a song.
What song you may ask again if you are quite bold and i daresay you are young fool?
That Song is what we call the Song of Making, Seven words that made all things in the Universe or -yes that's correct universes.

Her song began many eons later in a kingdom on a world far from the Source with her birth, but her story begins now on another world all together with another song and that my dear viewer is all you need to know right now....