“As, of course, will I,” Forthill said. “The church is not what it once was, but we are not wholly blind to the world, yet. Sir Waldo, I’ll send whatever word I receive to you through Rabbi Aaronson.”
Butters looked around at us and said, brightly, “I’m just happy to be here.”
That got a round of muted chuckles and smiles.
“What else?” I said. “What else can we get out of this? I don’t want to get caught out again.”
Down in the great hall, I could hear raised voices. Matias had begun playing his guitar. People were singing. And I could smell food being prepared. My stomach growled, and I suddenly realized how ravenous I felt. The residents of the castle had been terrified tonight—and now they were going to do something about it.
Celebrate life.
Bear stepped up to me and said, “Hey,seidrmadr. I’ve been in a lot of war councils. This was a productive one. What you do now is take the W. Go see your daughter. Play with your dog. Eat. Have a few beers. Sing a little. Yeah, there’s going to be another fight tomorrow. But the day is yours. Act like it. You’ve done what you can to get your head ready. Now make sure your heart is, too, huh?”
Butters brightened at that. “Hell, yeah!” he said. Then immediately said, “Sorry, Father.”
“Don’t be,” Forthill said, very seriously. “That’s a hell of a good idea.”
—
The rest of April was cool and rainy, but May came and went beautifully. We replaced the gates to the castle. Lara and I had a couple of date nights, which is what we decided to call it when we went out to dinner and then back to my place for a ritual transfer of energy.
We were both careful about keeping things cordial and convivial and calm. As if we were going to a yoga class together.
Very, very careful.
The castle was subjected to a government HBGB inspection a couple of weeks later. I toyed with the idea of having Toot and his people and the gargoyles reveal themselves to the team of inspectors, who would then, presumably, have to be worried about exposure to the imaginary toxin themselves, while I wondered aloud if they were all right. But they were only functionaries, dutifully moving around with their chemical strips and sample containers, which couldn’t find something that didn’t exist—so I just walked them to each floor of the castle and let them do their thing, then bade them farewell.
Didn’t mean there wouldn’t be trouble with the government down the road—but those particular folks weren’t the ones who would bring the trouble. No sense in being mean to them.
Then June came.
The city finally got electricity working on my block again, to the celebration of all. There were nighttime block parties for a solid week, as folks turned on every light they could, played music on their radios, put TVs out in their front yards for movie parties, and generally danced about in happiness at returning to the modern world. More and more cars would go by on the street as parts to fix them finally came in, or new ones replaced old ones. Slowly, the bustle and noise of Chicago began to return.
It did my heart good to see it.
Then came midsummer.
The anniversary of the Battle of Chicago.
And I woke up in the dark place again.
It was like nothing had changed in a year. Nothing at all. My heart felt bleak. My head refused to go anywhere that wasn’t horrible. I fumbled my clothing trying to get dressed. Dropped my brush three times before I could get my hair straightened out. Cut myself several times shaving and had to fight off blinding rage.
I thought about Murphy’s ritual shrine, which I’d packed away intostorage boxes in my small room in the basement. I thought about getting it out. Spending time drinking and playing board games until the storm in my head faded to black.
But instead, I went up to the roof, and sat in the sun and breathed, and after a while, I felt less horrible. Then I went and made myself exercise with Fitz, and by the time I was done with that I felt almost not bad.
And when I got done with that, Michael had come to visit, and he and Maggie, under Mouse’s careful observation, had made pancakes, which were waiting for me when I came downstairs.
And that wasn’t bad at all.
Pain is a fire. And twelve months isn’t long enough to heal from life’s most severe burns.
But, if you’re willing to work at it, it’s enough time to make a damned good start.
Michael and Fitz were on the roof with me and Maggie while we ate ice cream and I taught Fitz how to capture sunlight in a handkerchief. Mouse had lolled out to expose his belly to the sun and fallen asleep. He was snoring gently. Most of the resident families had moved out, but I’d hired Matias on with my dwindling funds to be the castle’s caretaker, and he’d brought up planters to the roof, and vegetables were growing everywhere in the abundant sunshine.
“Lay it out over both hands, palms up, to start,” I said.
