That Clarity Surely Be Chapter One

“What are you doing here?”

Alec Ventura looked up and smiled.  “Stevie’s folks were getting a bit too much to bear. They aren’t saying anything, but they keep looking at me as if they were already attending our wedding,” He blew some smoke from her nostrils. “It freaked me out, so I thought I’d find a place to have a quick smoke.”

Panopeus Asker grunted as she pushed the window open the rest of the way. “So you chose the roof?” She said.

“Like I’d smoke on the porch at let all those judgmental mothers at the block party silently judge me.” He watched as Pan struggled her way out the window. “Careful,” He said. “You’re not doing anyone any favors by dying.”

She laughed. “How are you not slipping? That slope looks pretty intense.”

“I put my feet against the gutters,” She took too big of a drag from her cigarette and coughed into her arm. “I mean, it’ll probably work better for you, what with the heels and all.”

It took Pan a few moments to maneuver into a lounging position similar to Alec’s. Once she did, she crossed her arms and laughed. She carefully raised her hand and motioned towards the colorful tables and tents on the street below.

“Look at those kids,” She said. “Remember when the saddest thing in the world was losing your balloon?”

Alec hummed. “Still is for me. Right next to my hard drive getting fried.”

A group of kids chased after each other with balloon swords. Some of them held bloated, drooping sticks of cotton candy. A magician in a white tuxedo with a long gray beard entranced a few children with a set of rings that he made connect and disconnect. It was raining that morning, but the cloud had since parted and the sky was a glassy shade of blue.

“You should cut Bill and Em’ some slack.”

Alec scoffed. “Bill and Em’? Is that what we’re calling them now?”

“They care a lot about Stephen, and are just admittedly nervous about the two weirdos he’s been letting live in the house they bought him.”

“It’s a giant house! It’s a giant, piece of shit house! We’ve known Stephen for long enough-and we’re certainly not weird.”

Pan put her hands behind her head and stared up at the sky. “They’re old-timey folks. It’s not their fault they weren’t raised in an environment as progressive as ours. They don’t mean to do it. I mean, I bet, when they look at you, they still see that little girl in pigtails that they adored so much.”

“And what about when they see you?” Alec said.

“They probably see the fumbling teenager with the pantsuits and nervous grin that they tolerated. You’re lucky, Al, you don’t need to try to be on their good side.”

Alec huffed. “You know what Stephen said this morning?”

“What?”

“He asked me if I could let them call me Eileen. He said sitting them down and explaining who I am wouldn’t do anything but keep them here longer.”

Pan winced. “Yikes,” She said.

“I bet he wouldn’t care if you brought your girlfriend over.”

“First I’d have to get a girlfriend,” Pan laughed politely at her own joke. “Well, he’s not being himself right now. The peak of his crazy has always been when relatives visit or when finals happen. And, god help the poor sap, both of those things have fallen on the same week.”

That managed to draw a short chuckle from Alec. From below them, The Magician rubbed two copper rings together and connected them. The children surrounding him clapped their hands and smiled. He nodded, rubbed his hands down his long beard, and took an exaggerated bow. He stared up at the sky and shielded his eyes from the light. He caught site of the two on the roof, and his eyes widened. He dropped the first ring. It clattered against the asphalt, and the second one followed soon after.

“Hey you!” He shouted. “Hey!”

Alec giggled nervously. “It’s okay, man-sir, I mean,” He said. “We live here.”

Pan sat up. “Is he talking to us?”

“You are close to the point of revelation,” The Magician yelled at them. “But you must jump to the light!”

“Oh my god,” Alec looked over at Pan. “Is this guy crazy, or what?”

“What,” Pan cleared her throat and raised her voice, “What do you mean?”

The Magician’s eyes shifted to her, and he began to laugh. “Yes!” He said.  

“What?”

“You! You must jump! You must jump now-quick, before he notices you!”

Alec furrowed his brow, the humor that comes from an unexpected situation long since faded. “Why the hell aren’t the parents doing anything?” He said.

But Pan didn’t hear him. She leaned forward. “Who will notice me?” She yelled.

“Come on Pan, let’s go inside.”

“Who will notice me?!”

“The Programmer! The man with the moving lips! If he reads what he knows, he will find you and destroy you!”

Alec carefully moved beside her and crawled through the window. He jumped back inside the house, turned around, and held out an arm for Pan. “Come on, Panope,” He said.

Pan grabbed his arm without turning to face him. She worked herself up to a crouch.

“No!” The Magician screamed, his voice hoarse. “Don’t shy back into the darkness! You can’t turn your back on the light, Pan!”

She stopped. Alec sighed shakily.

“Jesus,” He said. “How..?”

Pan let go of his hand and stood up on the sloped roof.

“Is this what you want?” She said.

Alec gripped the windowsill with one white knuckle. He extended his other arm as far as he could, trying to

grasp for Pan in a way that wouldn’t affect her balance. ‘

“No, Pan,” He struggled to keep his voice calm. “No, Pan.”

The Magician’s face fell blank of all emotion. He stepped back and pulled a white mask out from his coat. He put it on and held his arms out wide.

“Eimaste to telos,” He said. “Eimaste to telos! Remember that! Say it with me!”

Pan took a step forward and stumbled briefly. The heel of her left shoe broke off. “Eimaste to telos,” She said.

“Louder.”

Alec jerked his head from side to side. “Stephen!” He screamed. “Get up here, Stephen!”

Pan looked up and closed her eyes. “Eimaste to telos!” She yelled.

“For the love of God, Pan!”

She jumped.

Her eyes opened. The concrete was plush and smelled vaguely of floral carpet cleaner. The blood that should’ve been leaking from her crushed head was instead an opened textbook.

She was in Alec’s bedroom. The paneled wood walls were littered with pages from scripts and flyers found from their monthly excursions to San Francisco. The small television next to Pan was on. It was some sort of medical drama, the type that plays on a perpetual marathon on Sundays like tonight. She glanced at the alarm clock above it and realized that Sunday ended a few hours ago.

She sat up by his elbows and looked over at Stephen. He was passed out on the keyboard of his bulky laptop, one hand still lightly gripping the pen he was using to scribble on a yellow lined notebook.

Alec was lying on his bed, staring dully at the television. Her hair was still in precise ringlets. His dark eye shadow had been crudely smeared in an effort to wipe it off. He had taken off his black cocktail dress, the only one he owned, and threw it over her desk in the corner. Now he wore a white tank top and boxers.

He didn’t need to look at Pan to know she was awake. “Morning,” He said. His voice was bitter and a bit too loud.

Pan blinked heavily. She carefully went back to the floor and let her arms sprawl out lifelessly. She stared intently at the dull blades of the ceiling fan. Her lips were slightly ajar.

“Did I kill myself?” She said slowly.

“We all do eventually,” Alec’s arm hung off the side of the bed. He gave Pan’s hair a lazy ruffle. “Go back to sleep.”

She turned her head to the television and watched as her view of the brooding doctor’s surprise surgery got progressively blurrier.

When she regained focus, the large panel of glass in the ceiling filled the room with a pleasant morning light. Alec was digging through his drawers for something to wear. He sang a song under her breath, one of the French children melodies he knew. His eyes quickly glanced to and from Pan, and he smiled coolly.

“Hello, princess.”

“You look good,” Pan sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I never asked you how your audition went,” She said.

Alec stopped. He closed the top drawer. His shoulders sagged.

“I’m tired of being stuck going for female roles,” His voice had a particular strained quality to it. “It’s ridiculous-every time I try to audition for a men’s role they treat it as a sort of joke,” He opens the tip drawer, remembered he already went through it, and slammed it shut. “I mean, if my agent tries to push me towards some prepubescent bigot of a director who only wants to use me to be some comic relief tranny, I-I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

Pan stood up and walked towards him. She stopped, sighed, and set a hand on his shoulder. Alec looked away.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Alec said. “I’m overreacting.”

“No you aren’t,” Pan said. “I keep telling you to come to that group therapy with me.”

Alec brushed her hand off. “I don’t need therapy. Why would I want to sit around with a bunch of whiny children? ‘Oh it’s so hard not to be straight’. They’re not willing to actually do something to change anyone’s perspective.”

“That’s not true. You know that’s not true.”

Alec looked down at the piece of clothing he pulled out sometime during his rant. It was an orange floral blouse, a Christmas present from her aunt that he had gotten that year. He crumpled it in his hands and let it drop to the floor. Tears stung his eyes. He lowered his head.

“God dammit,” He muttered.

Stephen was in the kitchen, sitting at the table and staring into nothingness. He idly stirred a bowl of Cairo Cornflakes with one hand and felt the material of the knitted placemat under it with the other. There were definite bags under his eyes, and an even more definite scowl on his lips.

“Hey,” Pan said.

He jerked his head to the side. “What? Oh, hi.”

“Don’t you have Tech Prog at seven?”

“I did.”

Pan leaned against the counter. “This is the second time you’ve skipped this week. Eventually Professor Cambridge is going to grow less blindly accepting of your I-swear-I-am-on-the-verge-of-something excuse and ask to see-“

“Is Al okay?”

“What?”

Stephen put down his spoon and pushed the bowl away. “I really messed up, didn’t I?”

She looked out the window next to him and into the small strip of ocean in the distance.

“I keep undermining my friends emotions in an effort to please people who think me riding a bike to work is just a silly phase,” He put his head in his hands. “And to think my sister thought being so close to you all would make me more open minded.”

Pan walked forward and sat next to Stephen. “He’s not mad,” She said, “He’s going through a lot of

harshness in his life right now. He’s only stressed. We all are.”

Stephen looked up at her and managed a smile.

“Spring Break’s next week. If we can all live for a few more days, I’ll spend my latest paycheck on giving is all the hippest, most bohemian vacation ever.”

“There’s that weird town by Highway One we drove through once. I think I saw a bed and breakfast or two.”

“That’s more like it,” Pan stood up and snapped her fingers. “Now dump out that generic mush-meal and I’ll make the three of us a grotesque Viking’s breakfast.”