It is night. A full moon rises over Manhattan. It casts the skyscrapers in silhouettes such that I expect to hear Ralph and Alice and Norton and Trixie. Behind us is the North River. Across that, New Jersey. We are watching the city slide under Umbra from the docking beds between Bloomfield and Gansevoor streets. I think of all the women in my life and ache for Medea or perhaps some androgynous Morpheus to hold me.
Beriah’s eyes look straight up. He doesn’t need to tilt his head back or lean backwards. “You seldom see the stars here.”
Cetaf does tilt his head back. It’s like watching the top floor of a skyscraper about to fall. “Is it like this everywhere on your world, Ben?”
“No. There are places where you can see all the stars in the sky, I’m told. In the high mountains and in the deserts. Middle of the ocean. At the poles. Some islands, no doubt. I saw lots more up in the woods. They’re tough to see here because of the lights and the buildings.”
Jenreel stares at me, not at the sky. “Are you sure they’re there?”
I wonder if some quiz is coming. “Well, yeah. Pretty sure. I mean, I can’t see them, but I saw them once. Lots more when I was a kid, so I believe they’re there.”
He reaches over his head and stretches. I hear things pop and crack in his arms and back as if some galactic chiropractor is at work in him.
I glance at Cetaf and Beriah. “Is he okay?”
Cetaf looks at Jenreel for a moment as if checking his alignment. “Jenreel, are you okay?”
Jenreel’s arms come down. “I’m fine. I appreciate your concern.” He looks at the sky then at me. “It must be difficult to know where you are and what you are if you can’t see the stars. You could look to the oceans, but they wouldn’t tell.”
I point down. “But we’re here.” I wave my arms around us. “In New York,” I point west, “just east of New Jersey.” I stamp my foot. “Planet Earth.” Tap the pavement. “North America. Terra.” I point to where the sun will rise in the morning. “Sol.” I want to add, “You know all that” but realize I’m not really sure anymore. Especially about that last part. Or any of it, really.
I mean, I’m wandering Manhattan with three creatures who walked in over a non-existent desert, right?
We went over all this before, didn’t we?
Or aren’t you paying attention?
Jenreel shakes his head and shrugs. “You find your place by finding what is around you.”
“Of course. How do you do it?”
“By remembering I am the center of the process. By believing I’m the most important part of the process.”
Previous entries in The Book of the Wounded Healers (A Study in Perception) series
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