The Most Compassionate Way
The Most
Compassionate Way
One morning, as they were about to solve the next clue in Three Hares, Liko got a call from Janelle’s sister, Angie.
This was Kyle’s favorite aunt and the in-law Liko had gotten along with best. But divorce always drew tough lines, and he’d had little to no contact with Angie the past two years, the last time at the memorial service in April.
He’d entirely forgotten her number was still in his phone.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said, “but I’m really worried. I can’t find Janelle.”
“Can’t find her?”
“She’s not answering calls or texts. We’ve always shared our locations but I don’t know where she is. I mean, the beacon shows her at home, but I’m here and she’s not.”
“You’re inside?”
“I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Do you see her phone?”
“No.”
“What about her car?”
“That’s gone. Lee, I’m really worried,” Angie said again. “She got fired two weeks ago.”
“Oh shit.” Liko stood up, a hand to his forehead. “What happened?”
“It’s been bad, she’s just been spiraling.
She gave up on therapy and I think she stopped taking the meds.
I’ve been trying to get her to check herself into Four Winds Hospital for a two-week program.
She needs professional help. I’m sorry, I know it’s not your concern anymore, I’m just rambling out loud because I’m not sure what to do. ”
“No, no, I’m glad you called,” Liko said, bringing up Janelle in his contacts. They’d turned off location sharing years ago but he tried anyway, only to be directed to turn the feature on in settings.
“God, something set her off,” Angie was saying. “I don’t know what.”
“Back to school,” Liko said. “I’m almost sure of it. I saw kids getting on a bus the other day and broke down.”
“Fuck. All right. I’m going to wait here at the house and I’ll keep calling and texting. It has to be twenty-four hours missing before I can call the police, right?”
“I think so. I’ll try texting her too. Keep me posted, all right?”
Dane tactfully shut the laptop as Liko brought him up to speed. The morning turned heavy and ominous, filling Liko with a dozen conflicting emotions.
It’s not your concern.
“But it is,” he said. “In context, she is my concern.”
“Of course,” Dane said. “The soul portal you told me about? You and Janelle keep it open together. She’s your concern because she’s necessary. Try texting her.”
Liko sent a couple, but read didn’t appear under them. Dane stayed calm and reassuring. “Let’s take Salma on a walk before it gets too hot. Just a quick one to the Hare Ring and back. You’ll still be in cell range if Angie calls, and it’ll feel like doing something.”
So they did. They sat with their backs against the carved granite block and watched Salma flush out rabbits.
“Thanks for being understanding,” Liko said.
“I’ve been kicking an idea around my head a few days,” Dane said. “Basically, you and I are a pair, but each of us has one ghost—Kyle and Nomi—and one loose end—Janelle and Ethan.”
“Wow,” Liko said. “Go on.”
“This next part I can’t quite pin down. We’re two hares with an open space for a third.
Not literally. Not polyamorously. It’s like the ceiling motif in the Green Man Chamber, before you figure out how to put the third hare into it.
You and I are going round and round, but at any given time, Kyle, Nomi, Ethan or Janelle is joining the chase. ”
Liko stared, the concept turning in his mind. “Maybe,” he said, “when they join, it turns the triskele the other way. Not the wrong way but the most compassionate way.”
“Exactly,” Dane said. “One day soon, Ethan’s going to email or call me.
I really don’t know what it’ll be like, but he’ll be running with us a bit.
He’ll chase me while I’m chasing you, and you’ll chase him because you have my back.
” He got up and brushed off his butt. “Something like that anyway. Point is, when one of our ghosts or loose ends is turning us the other way, we’re understanding about it. ”
“It’s a great theory. I like it.” Liko got up too.
Dane took his hand. “I don’t know, man. Maybe we all operate in threes, even if we’re not aware of it.”
The day passed, sober and silent, with no updates from Angie. In the late afternoon, Dane and Liko resumed the game, returning to the gigantic cornucopia of produce and the letter tiles hovering over it, reading Naomi Misteria.
“The anagram of Naomi Misteria is O Mister Anima I,” Dane said, arranging Scrabble tiles on the coffee table.
“Anima is Carl Jung—the inner feminine side of man. Mister is one of the many names Nomi suffered in middle and high school. It was so like Ethan to pull out of your name something that caused you so much pain, and see the profound, beautiful thing in the letters left behind.”
Liko moved the letter tiles into place beneath the cornucopia. The tiles turned a bright, springtime green. Then they lengthened and grew skinnier. The tips further elongated into points.
“Asparagus?” Liko said carefully.
“Yeah,” Dane said, smiling as the stalks gathered together in a pretty clump, ready for display at a grocery store or produce stand. “Nomi got all teary at this part. It’s a really sweet story. You’ll know because I use my nice voice to tell it.”
“The voice that forgets to be mad at Ethan.”