133. Sophonisba
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Lou’s fondue party started at Daisy’s suggestion, as an interesting way to meet and discuss community business. None of the Fauxmont Guild members could make it on such short notice, but they put it on anyway.
It is dark by five, and we have had our fill by seven. Every minute or so, we see another light floating in the bare trees beyond Lou’s back porch. They start high in the top of the window, blinking on and off irregularly and slowly descend in a diagonal across the rectangle. Lou breaks a long silence in the conversation.
“You see those lights?”
“Can’t be lighting bugs. It’s too cold out there.”
Daisy Briscoe leans forward in her armchair
“Fred, they must be enchanted lanterns!”
“What?”
“Well, will-o’-the-wisp, then.”
“Willow what?”
“No, not the tree. Don’t you know the story?”
“No idea.”
“They represent the soul of an unbaptized person trying to lead travelers to water in the hope of being baptized.”
“They seem to be coming in procession. I mean why are all these unfortunate souls floating through my trees?”
“Lou, it is cold dark wet nights like this that bring out all kinds of things.”
“This is February, not Haloween!”
“It does tend to enliven the imagination though Fred.”
“Kind of misty too. See how fuzzy your neighbor’s yellow porch light is?”
“Yeah, I am glad they used a bug light. Reduces light pollution too.
“Who are your neighbors?”
“Ah, I forget, Fred. They are new. Moved in last week.”
“They didn’t build a McMansion!”
“No, just put on an addition and restored the place.”
“So, haven’t you met anyone yet?”
“Well, come to think of it, Diddlie told me her name is Sophonisba.”
“She should know.”
“How’s that Daisy?”
“She makes it her business to welcome all newcomers with a bouquet of goldenrod.”
Lou laughs, leans back on the couch, takes off his gold-rimmed specs. and rubs his eyes.
“That’s been going on for years!”
“I don’t remember getting a bouquet of any kind.”
“Oh, Fred I know, but I hear you two got pretty close pretty fast!”
“Daisy, you mustn’t believe everything you hear.”
“Aha, okay — Lou, you have a mannerist painter living next door!”
“She is a psychic according to Diddlie, you know.”
Daisy extends her long arms in a stretch above her head. Her gold and silver bracelets decorate the black sleeves of her turtleneck.
“Right! I have seen her sign at the Cremona Building on Route One”
“No wonder you have spooky lights in your trees!”
“You mean she is summoning the spirits, Fred?”
“I don’t know. Could be. They just want to check out Sophonisba’s new pad.”
“We are looking at landing lights of incoming flights to Calvin Coolidge National Airport.”
“So much for ‘silent Cal.’!”
“No, Lou, that is way too prosaic.”
“Yeah, Fred! but kind of likely don’t you think?”
“Let’s open the door and listen for the jets.”
Daisy holds up her empty fondue fork. The last bite has gone.
“No way! You might let something in.”
“Yes, the noise.”
“You won’t hear a spirit.”
The sound of the door chimes silences us all.
“Oh no? There’s one at the front door!”
“Lou, you know perfectly well who that is.
Lark Bunlush appears in the hall, covered in a dripping black slicker with a green reflective vest over the top.
“Sorry, I am so late!”
“Okay Lark, glad to see you. Fondue’s gone. You want some punch?”
“Sure Lou, what’s in it?”
“Oh, fruit juice with something to give you a lift!”
Daisy shouts across the room looking over the back of her armchair.
“Lark, what do you know about our new neighbor?
“Ah, which one?”
“You mean there’s more than one?”
“Sure, there’s that huge new seven-bedroom place on Maxwell Ave. and the place next door, right here.”
Lark pulls her arm out of a wet sleeve as Steve holds up the collar from the back to let her step away from both slicker and vest.
“Maxwell Ave. is more like a hotel, not a house.”
Lou removes Lark’s slicker and vest to drip in the powder room.
“I don’t think anyone has bought it, Lou.”
Lark takes to the loveseat facing the front of the house and ladles some dark fruity punch from the bowl on the coffee table into a tall cylindrical glass.
“Anyway, to answer your question; Sophie, next door, is Osiris Tarantula’s partner and Augie used to know her too.”
“Isn’t Augie coming?”
“No.”
“Ah, okay Lark.”
“I don’t want to go there. Sophonisba goes by Sophie?”
“Daisy, no one is going to say her full name, here in the States!”
“Wait a minute, Osiris lives in New York.”
“So, Fred?”
“Oh, you mean business partners?”
“Ah, I think there’s more to it than that!”
Lou stands looking out at the back porch, talking to the window.
“Yeah, okay, but partners usually live together.”
“You’ll be seeing Osiris around.”
“This is getting even spookier!”
“I suppose we will be seeing Boris too, huh?”
“From what I hear, Boris and Sophie don’t get along.”
Lark stands up and walks over to the front window.
“Look at those weird lights!”
“We have been looking at them out back, all evening.”
Daisy pokes around the dish with her short-prong fork at the end of her long arm.
“This fondue party is turning into something else!”
“A gathering of specters!”
“Lights, specters, wraiths, it’s too much punch, Fred.”
“Where, are you looking Lark?”
“The street Lou, out front, they seem to be floating in the air.”
Daisy gets up too.
“Yeah, greenish, yellow and look!”
Lark is pointing at colored lights moving slowly along the street and others, stationary.
“There’s some red ones.”
“You think the spirits are having a house-warming for Sophie?”
“Lou, this Sophie is bringing you lots of apparitions!”
“So far, all I see are lights.”
“We are rediscovering the supernatural Lou!”
“Oh, come on!”
“No Lou, I mean I was talking about it with bel Vionnet.”
“I think we are done with superstition like that.”
“It’s not what you think Fred.”
“Lark, I can’t believe bel would be into that.”
“Where are bel and Steve anyway?”
Lou scratches his brow and sits down again.
“Steve called yesterday, to say they won’t make it.”
“Why not?”
“He says bel has a new foundling Persian cat to take care of.”
Daisy sits down on the love seat.
“Yeah, that’s right. It’s called Xerxes and he is grumpy, too.”
“Steve dropped off the punch this afternoon.”
“Bel is talking about some guy called, Jung.”
“Yes, the Psychoanalyst, but he is on about dreams.”
“That’s it, Fred.”
“Okay, dreams, Jung, and shrinks, I know bel is reading a lot of that stuff.”
“Okay, so the thing is, that dreams are supernatural.”
“But they are not Daisy. Dreams are products of mind and brain, not gods and ghosts.”
“That is the point of rediscovery. It is all in our heads!”
“I can buy that!”
“So, what has been rediscovered?”
“Well, Fred, dreams and imaginings don’t obey the laws of physics.”
“Of course, it’s all fantastic.”
“So, what are you talking about?”
“Bel calls it getting out of out of our dominant myth.”
“And what is that?”
A brilliant sweep of green light passes across the room.
The wind comes up. A jet passes low overhead with the roar of its hot wind. Something hits the roof, shaking the house.
“Oh my God!”
“Daisy, that was a Mammoth’s ghost!”
“Oh, sure!”
“No, they are coming back, you know.”
“Right Lou, I saw one dating an elephant at the perpetual red-light on route one.”
“No, seriously, there is work being done with their DNA.”
“You think I am batty, but you will see.”
She squeezes her damp napkin into a ball and throws it at Lou.
