All the Faithful Attendants
Dane collapsed the first two weeks of November.
He slept late, roused only when Liko brought him a cup of coffee in bed.
They went for hikes in the afternoon, enjoying the last of the foliage.
If he had the energy and motivation, Dane tidied up garden beds or raked leaves.
But usually he was napping at three o’clock and Liko usually came in with him.
They snoozed and shagged, or shagged and snoozed.
Got up, went out or stayed in as it suited them.
Thanksgiving was held at the Jensens. Dane and Liko spent the night and while it wasn’t a New Year’s Eve reenactment, they did discover the rail of the widow’s walk could support the weight of two men. They noted the observation and wisely vowed never to attempt the experiment again.
“One and done,” Dane said as they tiptoed back downstairs. “Too old for that shit.”
“Tell me about it,” Liko muttered, sucking the base of his index finger. “I got a fucking splinter…”
Dane was mildly pissy about the farmhouse not having a Christmas tree. He piled the kitchen mantel with pine branches and white lights, and cut snowflakes for the windows, because certain holiday décor mandates in the Danelaw were non-negotiable.
The postcard from Paderborn arrived. Ethan did an exquisite job with the arched majesty of the Drei-Hasen-Fenster. Dane settled it carefully in the pine boughs over the fireplace, then he and Liko opened a bottle of Grand Marnier—an early Christmas gift from Fred—to finish the chamber mystery.
“Damn, I’m feeling all thumpy,” Liko said, touching his chest.
“Raise your glass and lower your expectations,” Dane said. “Then take Saskia the Knife and cut the ceiling motif into thirds.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Liko felt all kinds of bittersweet as he glided the knife along the seams between the Three Hares.
Kyle, my man, I wish you were here. I wish you were here. I wish you could see…
The ceiling panels slid apart, taking the rest of the chamber with them, until the screen was filled with…
“I told you it was anti-climactic,” Dane says.
Liko gazed on a painting of Schoenfeld’s three worldly hares. They were in the Hare Ring, and yet everything from the Green Man Chamber was also present: all the objects and symbols and animals and flowers that made up the story of Ye Then Deign to Nomi.
The three lovers knelt in front of the granite block altar. Not the haphazardly carved one from reality but the game’s pedestal of perfection. A fire burned in its circular depression and next to it lay Saskia the Knife.
Dane and Nomi knelt facing each other, she clothed in wisteria flowers with her arms up around Dane’s neck. Her head adorned with the Dusk Tiara and her chin on Dane’s shoulder. Her eyes were shut but her open-mouthed expression could have been laughter, tears, or both.
Ethan was painted naked as birth, kneeling behind Nomi, his arms reaching around her to hold Dane’s face. Drawing his head close, close enough to kiss but forever paused in the magical moment before lips touched.
Dane was cloaked in his leather vest. His chest pressed tight to Nomi’s, the broken cages for their hearts made whole. He had one hand in Nomi’s hair, the other on Ethan’s face. Of the three, only his eyes were fully open. Only he looked as they all leaped.
Nestled in the grasses and wildflowers were all the faithful attendants: Parker, Maple, chickens, barn cats and ducklings.
The Green Man lounged against a tree in the foreground, watching the lovers, composing the story.
Ruta Skadi stood at his side, proud and pitiless, a hand on her cloud pine broom.
Opposite, shimmering silver and white, was Helen of Winter in her furs and snowflakes, her arms full of eggs.
At her feet was the Jade Rabbit, holding his mortar and pestle.
In the background, silhouetted hares sat still, bounded high, or got up on their hind legs to box.
And of course, across the face of the burgeoning moon, the motif of the Three Hares. Running, Liko noticed, counter-clockwise. The wrong way.
The most compassionate way.
“It’s beautiful.”
Dane smiled. “It’s beautiful to me. No one else will have an orgasm over it.”
“Where is this painting now?”
“It used to hang in the living room but Ethan took it when he left.”
“Ouch.”
“No, it would’ve hurt more seeing it on the wall every day.
If I ever miss it, I know how to find it in the game.
Weird how nobody knows this work by Ethan Hasen exists, yet anyone who downloads Three Hares has a copy.
” He ran a hand through his hair, brows furrowed. “We kind of belong to the world now.”
Liko was quiet a long time.
“Is this a letdown?” Dane asked.
“If I didn’t know the story behind it all, maybe.”
“It’s nothing that means anything to anyone but me.”
“It was made it for you. And Nomi.”
“I’d erase this game from existence if it would bring her back.”
“Yeah,” Liko said. “Fair. I’d do a lot of things to get Kyle back.”
“What would he have thought about all this?”
Again Liko was quiet.
Once upon a time, a grieving father was quiet.
And then he thought.
And then he thought some more.
Until finally he said “I don’t know. Kyle was never in love.”
“He will be.”
“You think?”
“I do. So do you. Kyle will come back. He’s already reborn. He’s a new spirit with an old soul and he’ll find you and Janelle. Same with Nomi. She’ll find me and Ethan and Saskia. We won’t know it, but she will.”
“Maybe… Never mind.”
“No, tell me.”
“Maybe Kyle and Nomi will meet.”
“Why not? Maybe you and I making love opens some kind of cross-reference portal for them. It’s a woo-woo theory but it sure fucking beats the alternative theory of everything being meaningless.”