Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Bizzy (Elizabeth)
Even with the demands of my five classes, I’ve spent my evenings at D’Ornay’s for the past two weeks.
Not only do I get to surround myself with creativity, but I’ve grown attached to JJ.
I love the way his accent gets stronger when he’s tired or upset, listening to his rants about his frenemy, Hart, and watching him geek out over drawings by his favorite artist, E.B.
Houseman. He keeps stacks of them stowed away in an old green hatbox.
I’ve avoided speaking to Siler, sticking to texting instead. I’m afraid I’ll slip up and tell him what I did with the bracelet he gave me.
My parents have left a couple of messages asking how I’ve been feeling. They deserve more than a vague text back, but they feel so removed from my life, like strangers.
My appointment with Dr. Fraine is tomorrow morning, but I’ve been tempted to cancel it. Since I’ve been here, I’ve only had a couple of instances of being short of breath.
Well, if I don’t count the memories that have cropped up.
“...Place that leaning against the desk. It’s too big to hang.” JJ points as he turns back to repairing the loose handle on the door.
A local artist loaned their work to the gallery for an event tomorrow night.
This picture shows Commons Hall at Rock Am painted in the fall.
I wonder if I’ll see it tomorrow when I’m on the campus.
The mystery surrounding the place gives me some anxiety.
Unlike Cornell, which is open to the general public, Rock Am is gated, and admittance is granted through the Regents Office.
It would be easier if Dr. Fraine’s office wasn’t on the Rockefeller Amherst campus, but nothing about my medical mystery has ever been simple, so why should this be any different?
JJ shoulder shimmies to the upbeat music filling the gallery while I sneak a quick peek at him. Sometimes I worry he’ll catch me staring and out my growing crush.
“Are there more paintings to set out for tomorrow?” I call out over the music.
“In the back, by the tapestry rack.”
The smell of the back room has become a soothing favorite. Old, preserved fabrics, paint, even the fresh scent from the humidity controller. I move the green hatbox of drawings JJ keeps aside to pick up the box containing more artwork, but in my haste, the hatbox tips over.
“...That’s mine,” the mystery boy says playfully. “This one is mine.” He plucks the drawing out of my hands, then quickly kisses my temple. The smell of his aftershave makes me suck in a deep breath.
I turn to watch him admire the picture.
The scrape of the wooden chair against the floor is loud as I lunge at him with a laugh. “Hey, it’s not done…”
He backs away from me, tucking it into his pants pocket. “Biz, it’s perfect the way it is. Just like you.”
An alarmed voice shakes me out of the memory. I’m lying on the back room floor, clutching a stack of drawings, blood from my nose covering my upper lip. JJ stares down at me. “What happened?”
Damn it. I want to tell him everything. The memories, the problems I’ve had for months. I want to unload it all, but I can’t do it.
Alone. I can handle all of this alone. Don’t scare away the only friend you’ve managed to make here.
He gives me a hand to help me sit up. I cover my bloody nose with a cupped hand as I cough, scanning the room for a tissue or towel.
My voice muffled, I reply, “I tripped, no big deal.”
“You sure, darlin’?”
He watches me closely as I turn slightly, wiping my upper lip and nose with the inside of my sweater sleeve. Gross move, but I don’t need the scrutiny a bloody nose could bring.
My mood is subdued as we finish up preparations. The longing these memories bring settles heavily in my chest. All I can do is nod at JJ while he talks about the pieces we’re placing.
“...The play of colors on this one is exceptional. See how the blend here looks like…” He stops when he looks at me. Frowning, he continues, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”
Not in the slightest.
Wiping my hands down my legs, I respond, “Do you have a favorite piece?” I decide to go with a nonanswer, since lying to Josh is getting harder.
He's been nothing but incredibly sweet to me.
Bringing me my favorite apple cinnamon muffins from the bakery across the street, walking me to campus, getting me this job…
I won’t say he’s replaced Siler, but he’s the only friend I’ve made in Ithaca. I’ve been tempted to text Mya once or twice, but all I need to do is remember her dismissiveness to stop me.
He moves closer, his dazzling smile spreading across his face. “I do. It’s a painting from J.D. Rockefeller’s personal collection that hangs in the Regents’ Great Hall at Rock Am, called The Divines. I’ll have to show it to you sometime. Breathtaking.”
“Tell me about it… an angel and demon thing?” Good. We’ve moved past my issues. Besides, JJ loves to talk and tell me stories.
“Hard truths are usually shrouded in secrets.” Leaning against the desk, his eyes search mine, the intensity making me break eye contact.
I know all about keeping secrets.
He goes on, “Legend says that during Creation, God made the Divine Light, a feminine energy, and Divine Strength, a masculine energy. You’ve heard the Bible story about Adam and Eve?”
“Yes. They’re the Divines?”
His smile falls slightly. “Not exactly. They're based on them, but they are meant as balancing energies in the world. Divine Light is love, compassion, and nurturing, and Divine Strength is fidelity, justice, and protection. God created these energies before any physical form existed.”
Maybe this isn’t new to me. As I nod along, it feels familiar. After taking several Art History classes, I’m not surprised. “It’s not mentioned in the Bible, though?”
JJ crosses his ankles as he stares off. “It is… just not overtly. Remember, human beings wrote the Bible and all other religious texts. They may not have had words for it, but they inspired Adam and Eve’s story, and through time countless other love stories.”
“Even today?” I tease.
He doesn’t smile or look at me before continuing. “Those energies exist at every point in time, forced to repeat life cycles until they fulfill their destiny.”
“Sounds… complicated?”
He scratches his cheek before looking at me. “It gets heavier because there is a third energy involved, represented by the snake in the Garden of Eden. Evil. A dark energy that wants destruction, disaster, and chaos. The sole purpose is to keep the Divines apart.”
My skin prickles with unease. JJ’s demeanor takes on a seriousness I haven’t seen from him yet. “You believe this legend?”
With a nod, he clears his throat. “I do. Each life cycle, the Divines are drawn to one another, no matter where in the world they are. But the closer they get, the more disaster the world sees…Wars, devastation, genocides, accidents on epic scales. The key is to find a way for the Divines to be together without Evil lashing out. But that might be impossible.”
It’s clear he thinks this is real by the way he’s talking, but how can energy be blamed for the world's problems? “I don’t get it… why would God make the dark energy to begin with?”
Grimacing, JJ purses his lips. “He didn’t. But God gave human beings free will. Their freedom of choice turned into a dark energy… hate, jealousy, violence…”
“So human beings went all Frankenstein’s monster on him?” I crack, trying to get goofy JJ back - the one not creeping me out with an ominous sounding story.
He chuckles, but it sounds forced. “Mmm…maybe? Throughout time, there are secrets about the Divine kept by the most powerful and trusted in society. Some people say J.D. Rockefeller knew those secrets.”
“You should really consider doing a podcast about all your conspiracy theories and ideas. You’re a gifted storyteller.” I wink at him, then lightly slap his arm. Moving away to double-check that the closed sign is flipped and the door is locked, JJ stays motionless behind me.
Light and Strength kept separated by Evil.
But if they come together, causing bad events, why not keep them apart? What happens if they resist the pull?
Not bothering to question him further takes some effort. I’m finding myself uncharacteristically curious about what JJ is interested in.
I can see why it intrigues him, though, it really does seem like the oldest story ever told. But making it responsible for bad events feels like an overreach.
JJ reminds me that I don’t need to work tomorrow evening during the event.
The owner hired a catering service. Part of me is relieved because it sounded highbrow which makes me feel inadequate and painfully Midwestern.
I don’t exactly rub elbows with the jet-setting crowd.
“Yeah, I know. This is for some leadership group at Rock Am?”
“No. It’s a birthday party… long story.”
The ride share driver turns to look at me, “Do you want me to wait?”
I look out the window at the impressive golden gates with the University’s insignia on it and the two-story brick gate house, my heart thrumming at an alarming rate.
“If not… word of advice: don’t dilly-dally about your business here, or you’ll get banned. My nephew picked up his girlfriend. She works at one of the cafes on campus, but he didn’t stay in the designated area and can't come back for life.”
I tell him I’m okay, even if my knees don’t get the message, wobbling dangerously as I climb out of his hatchback.
Making my way up the five steps to the double doors, I input the code given to me on the phone to enter the gatehouse, my entire being throwing up red flags.
The entryway has a second set of doors with a window on either side.
One is labeled Visitors and the other Deliveries.
A stern-looking man in a dark uniform asks for my name and checks my ID.
By the time the second set of double doors click open, I’m wondering if Rockefeller Amherst doubles as a prison.
The security is no joke.