Chapter Twelve #2
He showed Todd to his room, returned to the kitchen to prepare his dinner, and murmured a noncommittal acknowledgment as Meredith passed by and announced that he was going for a walk.
It was only some time later, after the sun had set and Bianca whined at the back door, that David realized he’d never returned.
“Didn’t even bother taking you with him, did he?” David stepped outside after her. “All right, Bianca, you tell me. Where’s your adoptive father gone?”
Surely Meredith had the good sense to stay out of the Midnight Wood after his luck had run out the night before.
#80: He has nothing of the sort.
David started off in the direction of the Wood, but paused just before the tree line. He’d gone into the Wood far more often than he liked of late, and wasn’t keen to do it again if he could help it.
“Meredith?” he called, but received no answer.
Steeling himself for whatever horrors were in store for him this time, David stepped between two birches and into the darkness. He had to admit, it was not much darker inside the Wood than out, not now that it was really nighttime and the moon had risen.
He hadn’t gone far when his guess was proven correct.
From the distance, carried on the cool night breeze, came Meredith’s voice, deep and dark and melancholy as he sang:
“Ich wei? nicht, was soll es bedeuten,
Da? ich so traurig bin.”
If he was singing, he was fine, David told himself firmly.
There was no need for him to proceed any farther into the lurking dangers of the Midnight Wood—treacherous tree roots in the path, branches at just the right height to knock his head into, bloodthirsty creatures waiting just out of sight for the first opportunity to attack.
“Ein M?rchen aus alten Zeiten,
Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.”
David had meant to return to the house after ascertaining that Meredith hadn’t wandered off into too much danger—possibly he might admit to just a touch of nerves after the night before—but found himself drawn in by the song.
Though he didn’t understand the meaning of the words, the sound of it opened up a quiet, aching sadness in him, an unfamiliar emptiness that made the thought of returning to sit alone in his room unbearable.
“Die Luft ist kühl, und es dunkelt,
Und ruhig flie?t der Rhein.”
There was a chill in the air, perhaps from the nearby brook that David could hear but not locate in the darkness.
It occurred to him that if he turned back now, he’d be quite on his own when it came to finding his way back out of the Wood.
(On his own aside from Bianca and that sinister shadowy figure that he hoped he’d only imagined and God knew what else that made its home in the Midnight Wood.)
In fact, David didn’t have the least idea where he was now.
(Was that the sound of footsteps in the underbrush mirroring his own, or the rattle of dry leaves in the wind?
Catching sight of something from the corner of his eye, David whirled—no, of course it was nothing, only the fog rising among the gray willows on the banks of a distant pool.)
“Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt
Im Abendsonnenschein.”
Nothing appeared familiar, panic threatened to set in—and then he recognized the ring of pines they’d come to before.
He’d been sure this spot was much deeper in the Wood, but it sounded as though Meredith were just on the other side of the trees, and David wouldn’t complain about the shifting topography if it meant he hadn’t gotten himself lost in the Wood after all.
Bianca raced ahead, and David followed more slowly into the moonlit glade, picking up his pace only to avoid lingering too long by the towering black alder flanked by those vicious hawthorns.
“Die schonste Jungfrau—”
Meredith fell silent at David’s approach. He didn’t move from where he lay atop the flat stone at the edge of the clearing, arms folded beneath his head, staring up at the soft glow of the moon in the night sky.
In the continuing silence, David took a seat upon the rock at his side, while Bianca wandered a little distance away among the high grass.
“Working out how to get some moon cheese, are you?”
“Everybody knows the moon’s made of meringue, honestly, David. How else do you think it stays afloat?”
“Oh, of course.”
Meredith turned over and propped himself up on one elbow. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Er—well—” David floundered. “Bianca missed you.”
Traitorously, the Chihuahua continued her explorations without so much as a glance in their direction.
“I’m sorry, precious,” Meredith called to her. “I suppose I did lose track of time. Speaking of,” he told David, lighting up with excitement, “I’ve come up with this wicked recipe to make for Kinley’s party.”
“Language,” chided David.
#81: He collects regionalisms in the same way he collects shiny trinkets.
Every time the two artists spent time together, Kinley’s Boston accent seeped into Meredith’s speech the way all accents seemed to, and traces of it persisted for hours afterward. Apparently, the mere mention of his name was enough to induce the effect.
“Yeah, all right,” said Meredith, “only I’m going to make a butter cake, right, with false prophet’s balm and tincture of shrinking violet. You want to be sparing with that, of course—only a drop or two to open up your third eye just a bit, that’s what Mrs. J says.”
“Does she.”
“You ought to try some,” said Meredith. “It’d do you some good to relax.”
David scowled. “You know exactly what happened the last time—and the only time, might I add—that you talked me into smoking prophet’s balm with you.”
Meredith giggled. “Yeah, you had a proper freak-out, didn’t you?”
“It’s not funny,” said David. “It wasn’t then, either. Not that it stopped you laughing at me.”
Meredith’s face fell. “I’m sorry, David.
” He reached out and brushed a stray lock of dark hair from David’s eyes.
(The unthinking, casual intimacy of the gesture brought back the same feeling provoked by the song, a feeling that threatened to careen out of control if left unchecked.
David turned his face away, and made a mental note to have his hair cut soon.) “You’re right, that was a dick move.
Stoned Meri is a bit of an idiot. Well, so’s the regular one, really,” he admitted.
“Schwarzy—” David began with a frown.
“ ’S all right,” said Meredith, reclining onto the rock once more. “I’m not smart, I know that.”
“Look,” said David, trying to get things back on track. He’d give it one last shot, and that was it. “I just thought you might want to talk about, er, whatever’s bothering you.”
Meredith held both hands above his face, turning his outspread fingers to watch his rings catch the moonlight, silver and jade and obsidian.
No, this was pointless. David started to stand, but was arrested by Meredith finally speaking. “Well, it’s like I told Bednarek, isn’t it? Everybody I know is getting married—”
“I’m not,” interjected David. (Perhaps that fact did worry him, just a bit, if he allowed himself to dwell on it.)
“—and here’s me, still single, and thirty-one this winter.”
David choked. “Thirty-one?”
“Not yet,” said Meredith. “I will be.”
“You—but—you can’t—how?”
#82: He neither looks nor acts his age.
“Bit sad, isn’t it?” agreed Meredith, clearly misreading the reason for David’s astonishment.
“But that’s nonsense,” protested David. “You know as well as I do, you can have nearly anybody. I’ve seen what happens every time we go out.” Perhaps he ought to feel a hint of jealousy at that, but David had personally never found much appeal in the idea of going to bed with a stranger.
Meredith shook his head. “That’s not the sort of thing I’m talking about. I mean, it’s nice to be wanted like that, only it’s not—well, not much chance of going anywhere, is it?” He looked up imploringly at David. “Not when I’m already in love with someone else.”
For a second, David was almost taken in; then he laughed.
Meredith didn’t.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” Meredith insisted. “Don’t laugh. I’m sharing my deepest secret.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true, I’ve been in love with somebody for ages, but they’d never give me the time of day.”
David remained skeptical. “You can’t keep a secret to save your life, and now you’re telling me you’ve been carrying a torch for somebody for, what, months? Without having breathed a word of it?”
“Years,” said Meredith, and that fragile fog-soft quality had returned to his voice. “Only I don’t think I quite realized it myself at first.”
He really meant it. David had never imagined Meredith as the pining sort, not that he’d ever devoted much thought to the question, or wished to continue doing so now.
He cast his mind back to the last person he could recall Meredith actually dating, a girlfriend of no more than a month, three years prior.
“Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on Serafina? ”
“Serafina?” Meredith laughed, then grew serious again. “No. I suppose I did fall for her a bit, but then she went and left us for Gerald Fuentes.”
“Ah, yes, the encyclopedia salesman.”
“Salesfrog,” corrected Meredith.
“Salesfrog,” echoed David. “Right.” At the time, Meredith had moped around for a bit, but had bounced back within the week, and soon after had come the first appearance of the cautionary speech.
“Who, then? Anyone I know?”
“Course not.”
#83: On the rare occasion that he does attempt to lie, he is hopeless at it.
David had no desire to involve himself in his housemate’s love life, no matter how indirectly, but he did have to admit to a certain curiosity. “Not Mrs. Jupiter?” he hazarded.
“Nah, me and Liz are just good friends.” At David’s look, Meredith admitted, “All right, maybe especially good friends after the other night, but it’s not like that. She says we mustn’t do that again, and she wouldn’t’ve done in the first place if she’d known I was unavailable.”
“Schwarzy, you’re available to anyone who spares you a second glance.” As the words left his mouth, David worried that in the present circumstances, this might cross the line from banter into mean-spiritedness, but Meredith only grinned.
“Yeah, I know, only she means, like, emotionally.”
David ran through the short list of other possibilities. Bednarek, of course, was right out. Steve Corner, while a repulsive possibility, had made his interest all too clear. Then the answer hit David like a thunderbolt, stunningly obvious. He couldn’t believe he’d never suspected before.
“You’re in love with Kinley.”
Meredith laughed himself near to choking at that, until he was forced to sit up and catch his breath. “David! You can’t be serious. Me, in love with Kinley?”
That was not at all the reaction David had anticipated, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit offended. It had been a perfectly logical conclusion to draw from the available facts. “Why not? You help him with all his petitions, you go around together holding hands, you spend all your time with him—”
“What are you talking about, I spend all my time with you,” said Meredith, then went into another fit of giggles. “Me and Kinley! David, he’s like a brother to me. And he’s straight.”
In any case, David acknowledged grudgingly, it seemed to have cheered up Meredith to no end. “Yes, well, if you’re quite finished laughing at me, I’ll be going.”
“Hang on, wait for me.” Meredith climbed down from the rock, and Bianca bounded out of the grass to join him. Growing more sober, he said, “I’m not actually sure why I went telling you all that—I know you don’t care, really—but thanks for listening.”
“That’s all right,” said David magnanimously. He, too, was unsure what had prompted the unexpected confession, but at least the awkwardness of the morning had faded. “Besides, it’s just as you said the other day, isn’t it? We tell each other all our secrets.”
“Yeah,” agreed Meredith with only the slightest hesitation, and added, “Nearly.”
As they started out of the clearing, David ignored the sick feeling in his stomach and tried not to think about Leonard Flood and the house with the ugly wood paneling. “Are you sure this is the right way back?”
“What are you talking about, David, of course it is. It’s the simplest thing, really, I don’t know how you always go getting yourself—” Meredith broke off. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” David hadn’t heard anything at all, aside from Meredith’s assessment of his apparently deficient navigational abilities.
Meredith shook his head. “Could’ve sworn I heard somebody calling my name just now.
Oh, well, I suppose—you see, there it is again!
Oh, you must hear it, all whispery and faraway.
” His step slowed, and he gazed off into the dense forest, which now seemed impossibly darker in spite of the moon above. “Perhaps I ought to just go and see—”
“It’s the wind,” said David firmly, and not least because he had no intention of allowing Meredith to wander off and leave him on his own again.
“Yeah,” said Meredith with a soft laugh that might have been the tiniest bit forced. “Course it is. Who’d come calling for me, really, when you’re already right here?”
“Perhaps Todd,” suggested David weakly, notwithstanding the fact that he certainly did not yet know Meredith’s first name. “We have been gone for some time, you know. And we ought to be getting back,” he added. “It’s bad enough in here without you imagining disembodied voices.”
At the crack of a branch, David flinched. He was suddenly very aware of the darkness pressing in on all sides, of how little chance the two of them had if it turned out they weren’t alone in the Wood.
David flinched again, this time at the unexpected touch of a hand coming to rest at his elbow, and turned to find Meredith studying him with an unnervingly perceptive look. Just for an instant, before he offered an apologetic half smile and took hold of David’s arm. “It is quite cold out tonight.”
It wasn’t, but David couldn’t bring himself to complain about Meredith clinging to him as they made their way through the last stretch of wood back toward Midnight Cottage, and if he happened, in fact, to be a bit glad of it, he had no intention of admitting any such thing.