Sunday, January 19, 2020

Sia, Part Three

We moved the table aside and spread into a circle. Sia brought out the candle. And the goblet.
            She spun around on bare feet. “It’s time.”
            The sun was down. Shadows clung to the walls.
            “Tonight?” Sia looked across the group. “Got to take turns fairly. Carlos? Adam?” She called out more names. Finally, Dawne. They joined hands, and then Sia knelt to light the candle.
            In a moment the six were all naked, sipping from the goblet.
            Then they rose into the air.
            Oh wow. 
            “Yes!” Dawne shouted. She collided with Adam. “Sorry. This is so wonderful!”
            A short guy just hovered at the tallest point of the ceiling, his eyes closed, his bare feet twitching.
            Sia circled them, humming softly to herself. Carlos hung next to the wall, as if uncertain, but his eyes were wide as he stared down to the hardwood floor. 
            Around me the others gazed up, enviously. Maybe tomorrow, a woman muttered behind me. Our turn.
Then someone or something rustled behind me. I looked over my shoulder.
A man pushed through. He wore a black leather jacket and boots. 
And he carried a handgun.
He darted forward, skidding across the floor on his knees. He kicked the candle over and grabbed the goblet. Jumping up, he waved his weapon toward the ceiling. “This is mine!”
Screams erupted as the group around me flung themselves back, ducking down. The flyers above struggled to stay aloft. 
I crouched, covering my head. Oh god, oh no, oh no, oh no . . .
            Yeah, I’m a coward. Especially when it comes to handguns. 
            “Minas!” Sia’s voice trembled. “Go away!”
            “I will. Bitch!” His handgun roared.
            I rolled to one side, risking a look upward. I tried to find Dawne first, but all I could see was Sia. Rocking back and forth in the air. The others sank down slowly, bending their knees until they hit the floor. Sia stayed up, gasping.
            Minas—whoever he was—ran, pushing his way to the front door. He kicked a woman, knocked a man’s head with the butt of his weapon, and staggered outside into the darkness.
            I forced myself to stand up. Follow him? Hell no. Not until I knew what was going on.
            The nude flyers settled on the floor, shaking, looking for their clothes. Sia floated down slowly, landing on her bare feet, her body trembling.
            I raced to Dawne. “Are you okay?”
            “I—I—I . . .” She curled up, coughing. “I think I’m fine . . .”
            I patted her shoulder. “Good. Get dressed. We’re getting out of here.”
            Then I went to Sia. 
            She staggered and almost fell, until I grabbed her shoulders. “Sia! Bridget? What just happened? Who was that?”
            Sia gripped my arms. “Just wait.” 

Everyone calmed down. Eventually.
            Sia offered another prayer, and slowly everyone’s heartbeats retuned to normal. Except mine. But there were questions:
            “Who was that?” someone shouted. “There was a gun? Are you all right? When can we fly again?”
            Sia waved her arms. “No one’s hurt! That was Minas, he’s—an old—not exactly a friend anymore.” She glanced at me. “Not like Tom. He’s a good friend. Right?” She reached for my hand.
            “Maybe.” I squeezed. Hard. “We have to talk.”
            “Give me a minute.” She pulled away. “Let’s sit down, everyone. Remember why we’re here.”
            I knew why I was here. Not to get involved in some conflict between an old girlfriend and a boyfriend with a pistol. But I kept my mouth shut.
            Eventually the people stood up moved out, murmuring to each other. Maybe tomorrow . . . not sure I can stay here . . . where are you sleeping tonight?
The cabin, seemingly bigger on the inside than it looked, held lots of bedrooms. I saw Dawne slide in behind two women, and then I heard the lock click.
I turned around, trying not to shake on my legs. “Okay, Bridget. Sorry, Sia. What’s going on?”
She waved a hand. “In here.”
In the kitchen she pulled open a refrigerator door, yanked out a big jug of cider, and poured two tall glasses. “This is only for Sundays. And emergencies.” 
I took a sip and swallowed. Nice and cold, with a kick. “Okay. What’s the deal?”
“Minas is—was—my boyfriend for a while.” She gulped. “A year ago. But he was crazy. Abusive. I had to leave. I already started setting up my farm here, but he didn’t know about it. I was always afraid he might find me. I guess tonight he did.”
I pulled up a stool. “Where did it start?”
“Oh, what do you think?” Sia looked ready to slap me—which for a moment reminded me of Rachel. “I quit college, I spent a long time trying to figure things out. A lot of drugs, a lot of books, meditation, yoga—finally I came out of it. Right after my parents died. They owned all this land up here. And the house, but I made it bigger. More bedrooms. I started building the garden. Drawing people in. People who understood that we could have a better place out here—”
“Oh, come on, Bridget!” I slammed my glass down, spilling cider on the table. “You guys can fly! A man with a handgun came in here to steal that cup! Look, I’m just here for Dawne. Sorry.”
Sia leaned forward. “Won’t you help me, Tom? Please?”
“M-maybe.” I turned my face toward her. “What do you want?”
“Find Minas. Please?” She kissed my cheek.
I managed not to flinch. Or respond with a kiss of my own.
Bridget hadn’t been my first girlfriend—or lover—but she was one of the most serious and intense. At least until Rachel. (My ex-wife? Not the time to go into that.)        
            I squeezed her hand. “One condition?”
            She carefully pulled away. “Maybe.”
            “Ask Dawne to come back to Chicago with me. Wait!” I held up a hand. “She doesn’t have to stay. But her parents really want to see her.”
            Sia stared at me. For a moment I was afraid she’d kick me out. Then she nodded reluctantly. “I’ll go talk to her.”
            “I’ll try to find Minas, then. What’s his real name?”
            She leaned back in her chair, as if she didn’t want to remember. “Branden. Branden Morris. I can send you whatever I remember.”
            I finished my cider. “Okay. Thanks.”

In the car, after midnight.
            Dawne dozed beside me, her seatbelt tight. She hadn’t argued about going home, even though she insisted she’d be back in a day or so. Not my problem.
            She sat up abruptly and grabbed a bottle of water from the cupholder next to her. “How much longer?”
            “About an hour.” I’d stopped for coffee at a gas station. I hoped it would keep me awake until we both got home.
            “It’ll be good to see mom and dad.” She gazed out the window into the lights buzzing by us on the interstate. “Dad had a stroke. Mom’s taking care of him.”
            “Mm-hmm.” I tapped the brakes as a motorcycle veered around us. “What’s it like? Flying?”
            “Oh.” She leaned back, a smile on her face. “It’s like being high, except you’re not high. Except—” She giggled. “You are. And when Sia chooses you, it’s like you’re the best. I mean, she tries to be fair, to let everyone have their turn. I think she might have picked me tonight because you were there.”
            “What’s in the cup? Some kind of potion?”
            “Just water. I think it’s the goblet that does it, not what’s inside.”
            That made sense. I finished my coffee. “Do you know anything about that guy? Minas?”
            Dawne shook her head. “Sia’s focused on the now. Not the past.”
            “What about the future?”
            She shrugged. “Who knows?”

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