Sense of Wonder

Originally written Wednesday, December 14, 2005

I soundboarded a few ideas off of Patrick. I decided I’d bring the charm with me to lunch and do my best to question Richard into a confession of some sort. To confess what, I have no idea. Even just a few hints would be nice at this point. If, now, he’s the person I need to be concerned about, then I’d have to run down everything he’s said to me that I’d interpreted as an indication that he was being watched, followed, and scrutinized the way Trudy and I have been. I should take into account everything he’s said about missing museum items. What’s he trying to do? What is he trying to make me believe? And what exactly is Moshe’s role in all of this? Has Richard been setting him up to be the fall guy? Or has he just been an unwitting spy? At the same time, I need to remember that the only real evidence against him is the inconsistency in his and the vampires' stories about last Thursday. So what I’ll really be doing is trying to rule him out. All I need is to know his alibi for the night of November 22.

As we finished up our meal, Patrick fished the charm back out of his backpack and returned it to me. My suspicion is that now that I know that some of its function is independent of its user’s desires, I might be able to consciously resist it. I also, out of concern for his own safety, didn’t want Patrick to hang onto it: anyone who might be interested in obtaining all three pieces could be very dangerous, and I’m considerably better equipped to face that than he is.

Before he handed it over, he held it in his palm as I had when I dug it out of the closet the other night. Doubtless, he was observing its change in temperature. With his other hand, he slid it up his wrist so that it rested against his pulse. He smiled with only his lips and only spoke a quiet, “Wow.” He examined it from all sides as if memorizing its dimensions. Finally, he handed it over. Instead of putting it back around my neck, I dropped it in my shoulder bag.

As we were heading out the door, he said, “So, Dennis and I’ll see you at the Crypt Friday night?”

I was facing him while we passed through the doorway, so I didn’t see the familiar face of the woman coming in at the same time. “Marya, hey!” a voice next to my ear hailed. I turned to see Jeanine and gave her a broad smile. Sometimes it’s nice and grounding to be pulled back into the world of normal people.

“Hey you, what’s up? This is Patrick. One of my students. Patrick, Jeanine.”

We engaged in some mindless chatter that probably included winter break plans and sighs of relief for being through with the term and most certainly did not include precisely what kind of student Patrick is to me. There was little of consequence in the exchange, so I’ll skip to the end. Patrick and I were about to exit for real, when she reminded us, “Did I overhear you saying before that you were going to the Crypt this weekend?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, you did.”

“Ya know, a friend of mine DJs there on Fridays. I’ve wanted to show up, show my support, say hi, but it’s so not my kind of scene that I think I’d feel weird there. But if you’re going… can I invite myself along? Is that OK?”

Despite all the complicated recent events, it actually did not seem like a problem to let someone outside of the inner circle tag along. The principal reason for going was to get Moshe used to legitimate sources of sustenance within a controlled environment; it could now be a lesson in discretion, as well. More than that, I was (and am) also happy—one might even say psyched, if one ordinarily uses that word—to be spending time with Jeanine. The casual plan quickly began to resemble a date, with a restaurant (Thai), driver (me), and time (8:00) agreed upon. (At some point in the midst of all this, Patrick tactfully took his leave of us.) I bounced home wondering if one ever gets too old for first date butterflies.