«Even that makes sense. Stop looking at me like that, Cullen! You took literature courses in college, didn't you? Well, quest stories are always like that. Big armies go out to fight, but in the end it always boils down to just one against one. King Arthur, Beowulf and Grendel, even _Lord of the Rings_ . . . they're all the same. There's a final, _final_ pitched battle that decides everything and it's only between the hero and maybe, at most, one or two of his Musketeer buddies. In your case, it's Pepsi and you against Jack Chili, alias Axe Boy Williams.»
I got up and walked from here to there and back again. It did no good.
«There's something else too.»
«What?»
«Eliot, you've never once told me the names of any of your lovers, have you?»
«No. Is it important? Do you want to know?»
«You don't have to tell me. Wyatt Leonard. Andre Romig. Shaw Ballard.»
«Jesus, how do you know that? Did you have me tailed?»
«I didn't have to. Eliot, I just _know_. I suddenly know all of these things that I don't _want_ to know. Listen to me. Danny's mother is going to get better, but the day after tomorrow they'll have a big scare with her at the hospital because of her operation and Danny will have to stay down there another ten days.»
«What else?»
«What else? Things, Eliot. Little _hors d'oeuvres_ of the future, things now. Your lovers' names, things like that. Remember you said you thought I had powers? That that's how I knocked down Weber? Well, you're right. I have them. I can do things I don't want to do. I guess I really did zap Weber. Then I took the zap off him with a magic word. Then there was the gypsy woman in Milan. How's this – your friend Wyatt Leonard is going to be fired in a month. But he thinks he's going to get a raise.»
«Shit!»
«That's right, Eliot. Shit.»
«Do you see anything bad, Cullen? Is anyone going to die or anything?»
«I don't know; that's not there. Or maybe it is, but I haven't seen it yet. I don't have any control over this – it all comes like a big wind and blows me over. I saw a man in the street today who is about to inherit a thousand dollars from an uncle he hated. I knew that, but I didn't even know what the guy's name was. There are always gaps in whatever comes to me, I never see the whole picture of anything.»
«What about the stock market?»
«Don't be stupid, Eliot.»
«I'm not. Do you know how many people with the kind of powers you're talking about have lived? Lots! They had them and they got used to them. They had to, it was as simple as that.»
«Bullshit, Eliot! It's not simple, and you _don't_ get used to them. You don't shoot purple beams of killer light out of your hand. . . . You don't dream about a Rondua night after night and get used to it.»
«You do! You're going to have to, Cullen; whether your powers and Rondua are linked or not. Like it or not, it's all you, honey, and you can't pull those things out of you like bad teeth.»
«I know. I want to show you something else. Have you got a cigarette?»
I lit up and let it burn down partway before I began. «Watch this.» Taking a big drag, I rounded my lips to blow a smoke ring. Puff. The ring came rolling out, a smoky-gray doughnut. Five inches from my mouth, it came together and formed a perfect little car which drove across the room at eye level until it disappeared in the air.
«What would you like next, Eliot? A truck? A snail? Any requests? How about a pug dog like Zampano?»
It was easy. My copy of Eliot's dog came out and ran across the air after the car.
«Hey there, Foxy Lady. How'd you like to fuck a champion?»
I looked at the man and gave him my angriest scowl. «Go away. will you?»
My arms were full of groceries and I was half a block from home. Mae was in the apartment listening to Beatles records with Eliot while he finished a review for his newspaper.
«Hey, you think I got herpes? No way, beautiful! Come on, I'll show you moves your husband doesn't know. Listen, I'm a sex instructor. First lesson free.»
«Leave me alone. Drift. _Die_. Okay? Just leave me alone.» I should have kept my mouth shut and just kept walking straight ahead.
Moving alongside me, the creep put his hand on my elbow and squeezed it like it was a melon on sale at the market. «Don't go so fast, sweetie. You and me gotta talk. You're a super fox, you know that? I think you dialed my number.»
I stopped and looked at him. A black beret, dirty «Stanford University» sweatshirt, dirty black sweatpants, dirty green sneakers with pink laces.
«What's your name, Scuzzball?»
«Hey, now we're talking. I knew you was cool. My name ain't Scuzzball; it's Swift. All my good friends call me Swift, little lady. What's yours?»
«Look at your hand, Swift. Watch it carefully.»
The fingers quickly undid their crabbed grip on my elbow and started leaping around in the air. It looked as if they were trying to play an invisible piano. One down, the next up, next down. I blinked my eyes and made them go faster. _Faster_.
«What's this shit? He tried to move away.
«Stand still, Swift.»
I made his arm rise high above his head. His hand, the fingers still playing, went round and round in quick wild circles. I made him do that too.
«Cut it out, man! Fuck off! Lemme go!»
I was so calm. «Now look at your other hand, Swiftie.» Up it went. «Now, keep them right there. Right where they are. I'll see you later, okay?»
He screamed at me as I walked away. When I got to our building, I let him go.
«Eliot, I liked it. I _liked_ being able to do that to him!»
«So what? I would too, Cullen. Don't sound so guilty. The little scum deserved it and we both know it. 'Wanna fuck a champion.' God, what dreck! I've been trying to tell you all along it can work to your benefit. You should be thankful you have it.»
We were in a cab going downtown – Mae too. A splashy new restaurant called «The Future of Lightning» had opened on Third Avenue in the sixties and was the talk of all the glossy magazines. Danny had called earlier and, as predicted, said his mother had had a setback; he would have to stay a little longer in North Carolina. Our conversation was to the point and entirely too brief. The sound of my husband's quiet, solid voice reminded me once again how much I liked to chat with him. Schmoozing was a favorite hobby of ours, and when we hadn't had a good gab for a while, life wasn't as much fun. This was the first time we had been separated for any length of time since we'd been together, and I was really taken aback to find how hollow parts of my day were without Dan around.
Just before we hung up, he suggested that since he couldn't be there to take me, why didn't I invite Eliot out to dinner somewhere. I said I would and both of us waited for the other to hang up after we'd said good-bye.
Conversations with Danny were a long wander through familiar greatly loved countryside. Talking with Eliot, on the other hand, was like an evening spent in a curbside chair at a hopping Italian restaurant. His words and ideas buzzed in and out like kids on orange scooters – in a hurry everywhere. Gusts of noise, color, honking, crazy combinations that often left you gaga. Little of it ever slowed down enough for you to really focus on, but the happy frenzy did your heart good.
«Cullen, stop looking at me so damned skeptically! Do you think I have a green head? Mae, your mother has _several_ levels to go before she reaches enlightenment.»
«I'm not skeptical, Eliot, I'm just worried. What if these powers or whatever get stronger? Do you know what I've been thinking about all day? Remember _The Sorcerer's Apprentice_, the Walt Disney cartoon? The sorcerer goes out for a while and leaves his magic wand lying around; his apprentice picks it up and – '