STARCHILD SERIAL: 1.1 “How Long I’ve Been Searching”
Angel City Starchild
1.1 “How Long I’ve Been Searching”
I’m not a fanciful man. But there’s something special about dusk– hell, maybe even something magical–that can cause a man to rethink his entire life.
Even this evening, of all evenings, I find myself thinking about leaving. Just following this road as far as it goes, until it turns into 98, past Milton Junction, and then either driving straight off old Winter’s Bluff, or following the winding road all the way to the west coast.
I doubt Angie would even miss me. A month ago, maybe she would have. But I’ve been so absent these last few weeks, that even when I am home, she treats me like nothing more than a pesky housefly. She swats at me and curses me, tells me I can sleep on the couch, thank you very much. As far as she sees, there’s no reason for me to even come home anymore, and why don’t I just sleep on the sawdust in my goddamn garage.
It’s been ugly. But when all this blows over, I’m sure we’ll patch things up. It’s not like I don’t understand where she’s coming from. No one likes being neglected. I know that.
I ease off the gas and let the monster cruise easily down County D. The road’s been freshly paved- they haven’t even bothered to paint the little lines down the center yet- and in this robust but fading light, the deep black road looks almost invisible, like I was floating down an expansive, narrow abyss.
I had a dream last night that I could float at will. I would just jump up in the air and slowly drift back down to the earth. Some folks- people I knew in the dream- came walking down the train tracks and called out, “Cornelius, you be careful. You can’t just jump up in the air and expect your underpants will turn into a parachute.” In the context of the dream, this was a scathing remark indicating that I wasn’t able to just float around whenever I liked.
But sure enough, after they’d passed, I jumped up in the air and started flapping my arms, slowly and gracefully, and I could feel my body catching onto different currents of wind, climbing them higher and higher, falling slightly, catching the next eddy, and riding it back up, and up, till I could see all of Humber County. The funny thing is- I wasn’t even worried about how the hell I was gonna get back down. The way I saw it, even if I crashed down and broke my neck, the view was worth it. If just for the experience.
A car shoots past me on my left. I realize that, off in my little twilight daydream, I’ve let the car slow down to some twenty miles an hour. I check my mirror, but there’s no one behind me, so I take it up to 25, then 30, and I just ride it there. I’m in no hurry.
I look out at that big orange star descending behind George Rickett’s cornfield. I feel empty. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t who I was. I wish I wasn’t the sort of person who had to see things through to the end. But I am. I started this, and I’m gonna finish it.
In the near distance, I see a shadowy figure moping through the corn stalks. I slow the car down and peer into the setting sun. I can see the face of the silhouette drooping inexplicably, the hunched back bobbing up and down as the figure labors through the stalks of corn.
“Well I’ll be damned,” I say, jerking the wheel to the right. I come to a halt on the gravel shoulder and hop out of the car. “Lenny!” I yell out. The figure’s maybe ten yards away. “Lenny!” Before I know what I’m doing, I’m running into the field, thwacking away the cornstalks as I sprint towards the silhouette of Lenny Spencer.
Lenny stops moving and just stands there. I get to him and, shielding my eyes from the disappearing sun, I look into his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Lenny. Where have you been?”
Lenny motions behind me with his head. “What you driving?”
I look back at my sky-blue Cadillac, sitting alone on the side of the road. “It’s a Cadillac, Lenny.”
He nods. “Caddy-lack. My old man had a Cadillac.”
“I remember.”
“Rita’s talking about buying herself one of them Hyundai’s. They say it’s the Cadillac of shitty cars.”
“Where the hell have you been, Lenny?”
“Oh, I’ve been around.”
“Like hell you have. I’ve been tearing this town apart looking for you.”
The silhouette nods. “Kicking up lots of dust too, I hear.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“I hear things.”
I look around. A breeze catches the corn and all the stalks sway slightly, in unison. I think back to my dream, but only for a moment. “What are you doing out here?”
“Taking a walk.”
Something occurs to me and I squint at him. “You been avoiding me?”
“I been avoiding everybody.”
“I’m calling an emergency town meeting tomorrow.”
“I heard.”
“I was going to just go up there and wing it, but I think I’ll take at least a few note cards up to the podium with me. Just in case I draw a blank or something.” I pause, looking down at the green stalks of corn, not quite yet mature. I sigh and look back up. “I’d like you to be there.”
Lenny clicks his tongue. “I don’t know about that, Cornelius. I was gonna take Rita for a drive out to her mother’s grave. We haven’t been there in a whiles.”
I nod, then gulp. “Rita says she hasn’t seen you in weeks.”
“Maybe she has, maybe she hasn’t. It’s none of your business either way.”
“Why are you acting like this, Lenny? If you had…” I pause, almost panting. I’m practically out of breath. I inhale deeply. “If you had any idea how hard I’ve been looking for you-”
“Why?” Lenny snaps. There’s an edge in his voice that I’ve never heard before, in all the years I’ve known him.
“Why what? You know why.”
“No,” he says bitterly. “I don’t.”
“Well, because- I mean, come on Lenny. You were always telling me those stories. Didn’t you think I’d get curious?”
“I told you those stories to keep myself amused. You weren’t supposed to believe a goddamn word of it.”
I find myself yelling a little bit now. “Well I did. And now I’m up to my mustache in shit, and I’m going to tell the whole goddamn world what I know. Or at least everyone at that meeting tomorrow.”
Lenny shakes his head. “Tell them what? What do you know? You clueless son of a bitch.”
“Now listen here-”
“No, you listen. I used to think like you. But I was wrong. I was approaching the whole thing wrong, cause I didn’t know the whole story. Granted, I knew more than you, but I still didn’t really know anything. And I realized I was wrong before it was too late, before I did something rash. Something stupid.”
The sun has almost completely set behind Lenny, and the sky is a faint pink. I can just make out his face. It’s bitter and tired.
“It’s a cover up, don’t you get that?” I plead. “It’s all a cover up, between Sam Goldwell and city hall… Jesus, Lenny. These people have had the wool pulled over their eyes long enough!”
“They like it that way. Sam Goldwell isn’t some evil tycoon. He’s just doing his job- and if he wasn’t doing it, someone else would.”
“But we owe it to the people to at least-”
“We don’t owe them shit.”
“Lenny, these people have been lied to, outright.”
“It’s better that way.”
“How can you say that? The Sam Goldwells of this world-”
“The Sam Goldwells of this world are following orders.”
“Orders?” I scream incredulously. “From who?”
“Who do you think?” Lenny pauses, his rigid demeanor loosening, his voice softening. “They don’t want us to know about them, Cornelius. Surely you can see that. If they did, they would make themselves known. Easily. They started the cover up, long before Sam Goldwell ever came into the picture. Before city hall. Before Fairweather.”
“Fairweather? What does Fairweather have to do with it?”
“Nothing. That’s what I’m saying. They did it. And you can’t change that. You want to open people’s eyes? They don’t want to see. It’s a mutual, unspoken agreement that no one remembers making. But we made it for a reason. It’s better this way.”
“I don’t think it is.”
“What do you think you’re going to achieve? This ain’t about opening people’s eyes. This is about you. Admit it.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is, Cornelius. You’re making a big mistake. Nothing good’s gonna come out of this. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna finish my walk.”
Lenny starts walking away, leaving me behind without so much as a nod. “But Lenny-”
“But nothing,” I think I hear him say, nearly disappearing as he steps into the next row, continuing on his way. A slight breeze picks up and the cornfield, one big shadow now, starts doing its little dance in the wind, and part of me wishes I could just forget all this, let it go, and do the dance too. But I was put on this earth to do a different dance. I truly believe that. And I’m going to do it, by God.
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