Swish, Swish . . . The repetitive motion of the windshield wipers flicks the tapping droplets to the side. The fog flushes out everything as if someone poured the foam from a soda over San Francisco. Only the tops of the Golden Gate’s 746-foot towers protrude out of the milky sky. Going over the bridge, I see a man. The man is barely visible through the misty window and the thick fog, but visible enough to see him slip on the concrete glazed by the shimmering water. * * * There he was. The radio was on. President Roosevelt was talking to the nation. He loved fireside chats and therefore paid close attention. It was our lunch break, and we were all sitting on one of the big icy-cold beams. The loudspeaker was perched above us. He stopped eating and concentrated on the fuzzy radio transmission. Once Roosevelt said “the New Deal,” he kept eating. Our boss blew the horn and said, “Lunch is over.” We packed up our lunches and put back on our helmets. My brother and I picked up our tool belts, strapped them around our waists, and went back to work. His gentle face didn’t fit the ominous structure looming above us. With one hand he grasped the metal ladder and started to ascend the structure that would one day span from San Francisco to Marin. His weary posture struggled to climb toward the cries of seagulls above. After listening to “The Shadow” all night, his tired body could barely make it. However, he maintained his high spirits and flashed me a smile. His weary posture struggled to climb toward the cries of seagulls above As I looked down, I was thankful to see the safety nets protecting us from the darkened water below. The criss-crossing ropes had saved many of my friends, so I knew I had little to fear. But as my courageous brother reached for a dangling cable, his foot slipped on the steady hold, and he fell forward into those loving nets. I gasped as I saw my brother fall through the chilled wind, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight to follow. After he hit the net, he began to struggle to his feet. But before he could stand upright, a snap echoed through the hills, and I saw my brother plunge into the murderous blue below. My eyes clung to the spot where he had landed on the concrete waters, until the fog swallowed the ripples of my heart. * * * As I finish crossing the bridge, I notice a strip of sunlight piercing through the rainy sky. I look back through my misty windshield and the man is gone. Was he the key to my buried memory? Now the stranger is gone too. Or was he just a reminder? I focus on something, but only the gray looks back. Max Strebel, 13San Francisco, California
November/December 2003
Swaying in the Breeze
In many ways Aubin Tupper was a lonely child, with no children nearby he thought of as friends. Living out in the country with his parents and little brother, he had homeschooled since grade two—it hadn’t taken him long to find out that the public school nearest wasn’t for him. He didn’t hate learning, more the opposite of that, but so many noisy children and frustrated teachers got tiring after a while. He was a quiet, timid, scared little mouse that recoiled whenever someone approached. Aubin had had a love of nature and animals since he was born and a tendency to take refuge in make-believe worlds. He learned to read quickly and was soon consuming thick novels at a teenager’s level. He had a vivid, active imagination and often slipped into it, forgetting everything except the goings-on inside his head. It took Aubin’s breath away, the most beautiful sight he had ever set eyes on Since Mr. Tupper was a truck driver and away much of the time, the homeschooling rested in his wife’s hands. She did a good job, and soon Aubin and his brother, Forrest, were academically ahead of most kids their age. When Aubin was ten and Forrest was five, their family moved to a different acreage, this one bigger, beside a lake. In the midst of a scattered farming community, there was a school within walking distance, which the boys would hopefully attend and make friends at. To any stranger meeting Aubin he would appear mysterious, different and would probably provoke their curiosity. It was impossible to forget his appearance—wavy, red-gold hair tossed about by the wind; wide, thoughtful, clear, blue eyes and a fine-boned, small, yet strong and healthy figure, which resembled a deer when he sprinted across open fields. His physical being hid his personality; which surfaced only when he was alone, in nature. Aubin was rarely seen without Forrest, a mischievous little boy always running off and needing to be found. He was the best friend Aubin had. That is, the best human friend. When the Tuppers moved to their new home they brought with them the rest of the family: Annie (Mrs. Tupper’s horse), Jake (Forrest’s pony) and Guthrie (Aubin’s beloved black gelding); Whiskers—his companion of a gerbil—and Dan and Baily, two sleek, gray housecats. And of course Fifi, the family’s frisky border collie. Without those animals, Aubin would have felt as if without friends. His wanting for human friends was very small, as he didn’t want to risk anything. Because he was shy, and afraid, he thought other boys would make fun of him. * * * As he and Forrest stepped out of the van that bright day in August, one when you can just smell summer on the air, his first impression was that he’d love it there. He’d loved their old place as well, and missed it after three hours of driving, but this new home looked captivating. Raspberry bushes drooped heavily over the walk, their berries full and ripe, all the way up to a large green farmhouse. The paint on the house was peeling but Mr. Tupper had said they’d give it a new coat once they moved in, and other than that it appeared well taken care of It even looked as though people were already living in it; Aubin’s parents had moved everything in the past week-even a flower pot on the steps sprayed cheer across the yard. The yard itself was quite simple; a few shrubs had been planted here and there and a rickety; old toolshed overlooked a garden, bare except for a few overgrown perennials. Behind that a forest sprung up, which Aubin knew was hiding a stable with the horses already settled in, and a pasture beyond that. To the left patches of rippling blue water through the trees caught his eyes-the lake. Right away, he knew it was home. “Why don’t you two munchkins go and explore?” suggested Mr. Tupper, as his sons stared around, wide-eyed. “The stable is just down that path to the right of that shed.” Eagerly, Aubin nodded and grabbed his brother’s hand. Together they raced off, Aubin’s thick auburn and Forrest’s wheat-colored blond hair blowing in the breeze, their feet thudding in a steady rhythm before slowing as they entered the trees. Aubin was glad to see that the stable was in good repair and was more or less the right size for three horses; he cared deeply about the well-being of animals. Unbolting the door he stepped inside, Forrest close behind him. Three roomy stalls faced him, a horse in each. “Guthrie,” sighed Aubin contentedly, stepping toward his horse. Guthrie snorted softly as Aubin stroked his velvety black muzzle. “Good to see you again, boy. Those folks took good care of you.” He spoke with ease, and kindly, his gift with animals apparent. He loved all three horses so well-tall, high-spirited Annie with the fine chestnut coat, short and round little Jake with the sweetest temperament possible, and of course his own adored Guthrie, black as night, free as the wind. As he leaned against his horse, Aubin prayed inwardly that none of their new neighbors would take interest in the Tuppers, that the world would just leave them alone. That his life would remain separate from everyone else’s. * * * After eating lunch in their new, bright kitchen, Aubin wanted to go for a ride right away. “I was planning to go swimming, in the lake,” said his father. “You could come.” “No, thank you.” Aubin’s heart was set on Guthrie. “I wanna go!” exclaimed Forrest. “Sounds good,” smiled Mrs. Tupper, a horse-lover herself. “I’m too busy today to ride Annie, but you can take Forrest, Aubin. I’ve checked the trails and they seem fine.” Later, as they groomed their horses, Forrest begged to ride Guthrie with Aubin. “Jake’s puny,” he complained. Aubin smiled a little. “OK, but promise me you’ll ride him tomorrow.” “I will,” sighed Forrest. “But
The Pharaoh’s Daughter
Walking into my father’s mud-brick palace, I saw my brother standing in the middle of a plaza. Not stopping to think why he was surrounded by guards, I ran toward him. “Rudiju!” I said. Rudiju was my favorite person in the palace because he always used to play games with me when we were little. He and I would spend hours playing hide-and-seek, or we would play Senet together. Sometimes he would let me win, but Rudiju was always much better at it than I was. He has a good mind for strategy games. Rudiju’s squinty eyes swung toward me. A worry line creased his forehead. This was surprising; my brother is usually carefree. I walked toward his open arms. We have always been very close, and show our affection openly. Because of this, no one will accuse me of being jealous about my brother being the Pharaoh’s first heir or suspect me of an assassination plot. When I was three feet from my brother, a guard stopped me by taking my arm. Bowing, the guard said, “You are not to speak to him.” “What?” “The prince Rudiju is to be held on trial. No one is to speak to him,” the guard explained. Then, embarrassed at addressing a princess, he resumed his position at the door. I was baffled. What could Rudiju, my beloved brother and future Pharaoh of the Land of Egypt, have done? I could not think of anything that might connect him with a crime. Rudiju would sooner sell himself into slavery than break the law. Jumping to my feet, I saw a glimmer of light, a woman with a bird’s head Still pondering what might have happened, I turned a corridor and entered into the women’s lounge on my right. It was empty and silent, and I was thankful. I was a young girl, and not allowed in the lounge if older women were present, though I had been in it before because I was a princess. As I sank into a chair, a deep feminine voice behind me asked, “Do you always sit in the presence of gods?” Jumping to my feet, I saw a glimmer of light, a woman with a bird’s head. “Isis,” I breathed, bowing. “I am sorry, I did not see you.” “It is wise to be watchful, young princess.” I looked at my feet with embarrassment. A crocodile walked past them. With a little scream, I jumped backwards, landing on the chair with my legs beneath me. “You did not see me, either,” the croc said. “Sobek?” I asked. The large croc nodded, his reptilian eyes strangely wise. “I am honored,” I said, finally remembering my manners. “It is a great privilege to be visited by gods.” “You may get used to being visited by us,” Isis said. “You are important to the future of Egypt.” I bowed my head. “I beg your pardon, great lady,” I said, “but I do not see how. My brother Rudiju is my father’s heir, and he is ready to become a great king.” “I believe Rudiju is ready,” agreed Isis. “But being ready does not mean he will get his chance.” All this time, my attention had been focused on Isis, but now Sobek spoke. “We must take our leave now. Remember us, because we shall be prominent in your life. We are, after all, gods.” With a wink and a grin from Sobek, and a nod from Isis, they disappeared. I sank into the chair for the second time, my thoughts back on Rudiju. What could my brother have done? Then, my meeting with the two gods sank in. I was left thinking, what did Isis mean, “being ready does not mean he will get his chance”? * * * Rudiju’s was held two days later. It took place in a giant plaza on which a stage had been erected. The vizier, my father’s right-hand man, ran the trial. Because it was an important trial, Father was there to make the final judgment about the accused. I was present, as were all the nobles and some of the peasants of the capital of our dearly loved Egypt. Before the trial, I learned that my brother was in trouble because he was caught with a wounded cat. This was a great sin in Egypt, because cats are sacred to the goddess Bastet, whom we worship. Since my brother was trying to enter the palace with a wounded cat and had not made any move to heal it or at least make it more comfortable, Rudiju was breaking the most sacred law in the city. His excuse was that he had wanted to bring the cat to me as a gift and had not known that it was hurt. I believed him, but my father thought that if his son wasn’t punished for breaking the law, Rudiju would not be a trusted Pharaoh. Since he thought that Rudiju was useless once he couldn’t be a Pharaoh, my father sentenced the normal punishment for abusing a cat. Rudiju’s execution date was to be exactly a week from the trial. He chose to commit suicide rather then go through the embarrassment of an execution. I think this was partly Father’s judgment, too. Rudiju, my beloved brother, was dead within three days. For weeks after Rudiju’s death, I wandered the palace aimlessly, remembering Rudiju. How he would talk to me when our parents were busy, how he would play games with me. Now he was dead, because of me. I had killed my brother. If he had not tried to get a cat for me, he would be alive to laugh at my jokes, or to sit in his favorite chair and think, or to learn to write … My thoughts went in circles, and I was often in tears. One day I had another visit from Sobek. I had been crying softly for about an hour on my bed when I saw a crocodile’s
