Julia and Ben did the tourist-y things they often did when in the city. They went to the Met and walked in Central Park. They stopped frequently to rest Julia's ankle, but it wasn't bothering her too much. At Ben's insistence, they went to the Empire State Building, though Julia thought it was a waste of time. It seemed to her that Ben was even more loquacious than he'd been before. Walking in Central Park, she realized how disquieting his stream of stories was. She found herself thinking fondly of walks they had shared along these same paths, walks that had been taken in silence, walks where they had spoken only to determine direction. There was one time she remembered when they hadn't spoken at all, only nodding this way or that or squeezing each other's hands. In the end, these silences had been part of why they hadn't stayed together. It hadn't suited Ben's personality and Julia had always worried it made him resentful. It was not without surprise, then, that she found herself reminiscing quietly and fondly over those hushed moments. Her reverie was broken by a bark of laughter from Ben, the kind of laugh she knew meant he was trying not to laugh at his own story. She shook herself internally and tried to be grateful for his idle talk. She'd rather have him talking than not. Wouldn't she? Eventually, she forgot her unease. She let herself be carried along like some buoy, undone and floating away.
Ben talked of many things. He talked about the various routines The Act had been working on, one of which was a reinterpretation of King Kong. "It's really a fascinating story," he said. "I don't know why it hasn't been re-done more, although there was that scene in Jurassic Park II where the T-Rex comes to San Diego of all places, or that Godzilla remake that was pretty terrible." He went on to talk about the differences between King Kong and Godzilla, the phenomenology and sensationalism of it all. Then he brought Tarzan into the conversation. Ben had always been a big Tarzan enthusiast. The thing about his talk was that it was widely and freely ranging, but all the subjects seemed connected or at least strung on to the last thing he'd said. Usually Julia had fun derailing him with sarcastic comments or a roll of the eyes, and then he would focus on teasing her for awhile, but she was uncertain about doing so now. It was almost as if he was focusing particularly hard on not getting derailed, as if he was holding on to something tenuously, as if he was intent on not focusing on Julia as much as possible. Julia knew that might become problematic at some point, but she wasn't so intent on herself either at the moment. It was so much easier to just let him guide her, them, along. Meandering through ideas and stories familiarly, skating across a brittle, icy surface and pretending it wasn't brittle at all.
Ben talked about working on a Chinese folk tale routine with The Act. Or something that sounded like a Chinese folk tale. "Ambitious," Julia commented. "Ukrainian. Chinese. What's next? Australian?" "Good idea!" She rolled her eyes though not in his direction. Looking away, she followed a pair of runners in small, loose shorts. She missed running. Sometimes it felt like her only outlet. She watched the sweat fall from one and then the other, catching the light and glistening like little insects skating across the surface of a quiet pool.
That night they ate again with Julia's grandma and Barry. Julia helped with the dishes. Afterwards, they played a few games of scrabble and Julia got very invested in the games. She thrilled at the challenge of studying the board, figuring out the perfect place to put letters, finding clever intersections of seemingly un-connecting words. Competitive juices were good. Julia wished life could be like that, with scoring clearly the goal and clear-cut victories and losses. Outcomes were still based somewhat on chance, since you couldn't choose the tiles or cards you were dealt. But if you played the game correctly, if you were perceptive and quick-witted, you could always increase your odds at winning. Julia wished this but knew it was unrealistic. Sure some people played life like that, like everything was cut clearly and fairly evenly. But Julia could never be like that. The aspirations and outcomes in real life were just too complex and variegated. Julia often had to remind herself to make decisions, as she would get lost in exploring implications, ramifications, and forget that the outcome was what mattered in the end, what propelled one forward in life.Putting away the game, Julia felt oddly domestic. Since reuniting with Ben, everything had slipped into place. It felt too easy, like these patterns were more well established than they had any right to be. Was this how life was, if it wasn't like how it had been in Boston? Wasn't there some medium that wasn't so contentedly happy but wasn't sad and lonely either?
Thinking these thoughts, Julia was further upset at finding Ben in her bed, sprawled out and grinning. "Get out," Julia said. "Jules, I was just kidding around." "No. Oh, sorry Ben. I didn't mean...I'm just tired. My ankle." She trailed off, not looking at him. "Okay. Sorry, Jules. See you in the morning. We're going to see your grandpa, right? Hell of a game you played." She looked up to see his parting smile, knowing any traces of hurt would be by then wiped from his face. She gave him a weak smile. "See you in the morning, Ben."
She slept like a rock that night. She may have even snored a bit. When she woke up, Ben was busying himself, "getting the day off to a productive start." He had packed them a picnic basket with Alice's help. "C'mon Jules, it'll be fun!" She sighed and shook her head. It was like standing on the banks of a quickly moving stream. All it took was a small jump and she was picked up by the current and carried along.
She jumped and found herself rushed off to a quaint hole-in-the-wall restaurant that served fried rice and spam. "The Brothers swear by this place!" Ben said. He was overly enthusiastic, compensatory. Julia hunkered down into her silence resolutely. Letting him dig himself into holes and then dig his way out. If he continued, there would be no ground left to cover, and the water would pour in and be everywhere, like a flood after the fact. It would rise to shin level and never waver until someone somewhere found the plug. Julia wondered where he was putting all the earth he was uprooting. The food was not bad. She ate a whole plate. But on the drive to her grandfather's convalescent home she felt limp and oily.
She wasn't sure when Ben had ceased to talk, but without realizing it she had come to stand before her grandfather. He was sleeping. Ben was not in the room, and she looked over her shoulder at him. He smiled and waved her on, turning to stand against the near wall and opening a battered looking book. Julia turned back to her grandfather. She didn't want to wake him. She hadn't seen him much since the Alzheimer's got really bad. In her memory, he was still the suprisingly spry old man who threw her into the air and caught her and sang her happy songs when she was already happy. She didn't want to let go of that. When he had moved into the home, she'd visited with the rest of her family. All the action and change had kept him cognizant, and his conversation had been sharp as ever. He had asked Julia what she was going to major in at Amerherst. She told him Biology, and he said, "Biology? You're not doing anything with that degree." She had replied, "I'm not doing anything with any degree, grandpa," at which he had cackled and coughed.
As if summoned by her thoughts, he crackled into life, hacking and groaning quietly. "Hi, Grandpa." It took him a moment to focus. "Juju-bean! What a pleasant surprise. How long has it been?" "A couple months, Grandpa." "Oh good, good. It's good to see you, Juju-bean. Good to read. I've been reading a lot, Julia." There were no books in the room, but that didn't mean anything. "I've been reading the sheets and the curtains. I read the pillow sometimes. Or I read the light." "You read the labels, Grandpa?" "When they take us outside, it's nice. I read the trees. Or the water. They gave me a peach last week, and I read the juice. Sometimes I read with Charles. He's my friend down the hall. He makes beautiful words when he moves. Kind of jerky, but beautiful." "Grandpa?" "Have you read the book I gave you? The one with the animals?" "Which book? I don't remember." "The book! With all the animals! And the oni." His eyes shrank to slits and he glared straight ahead. Julia followed his gaze, but there was only a lightswitch before him. From the corner of her eye, Julia saw Ben in the hall, talking to a woman in white.
"Grandpa. Uh, Grandpa. What kind of animals, Grandpa?"
"What kind of animals? All kinds of animals. The rat that crawls. The toad. The road-runner or mongoose--do you remember, it's a road-runner or mongoose?--that eats the snake. It dangles from winged teeth. And there is a rabbit! Oh, how the rabbit runs. There's a dog, and a pheasant, and a boar. A wild boar with tusks like ice and a laugh like rain. Oysters. There are oysters in this book. And birds. So many birds! And there is a bear. How it howls! And the cat! The cat, the cat, the cat. Do not trust its smile. You are not one of us. Oh, the cat. You must run when you meet him, but you will not know it is he, and he will not possess the smile of a cat. His smile will taste like honey and will cascade down your throat like a butterfly. He is the king of the animals! Do not be deceived! Do not fall prey to the butterfly's song. You are stronger than that, Julia. Better. You are more than this. You must know that. You must hold on. You must. You must do something. Have you? Have you done anything? Have you at least read the first page? Have you met Elijah? Has he warned you? Do not go to him! Don't let him touch you! Don't let him touch your ears, your lovely ears, or your eyes, your wondrous, wondering eyes. Don't buy his lies! Don't buy anything he gives you! Don't!"
Julia was silent for a minute. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had no purchase, nothing to swallow. She gulped for air like a fish suffocating in the air. Her eyes shot to the hall, the way out, Ben, but someone had closed the door. There was a glass of water by her grandfather's bed. She took it, wondering if it was clean, looking into the water and at her grandfather's fingers. He had been leaning towards her, breathing heavily and spitting, but now he was sitting placidly, his eyes slowly picking at the specks of food under his fingernails. Julia gulped down the water quickly, as if not letting it rest in her mouth or throat would prevent it from being anything but water. She swallowed. Her lips parted as if testing the air. They touched and then parted again.
"Grandpa. Who?" He hummed at her, not turning his gaze, his eyes. "Who should I not go to? Elijah? Who is Elijah?" Her grandpa was humming higher and higher. He sang in a high, giddy voice, "We're watching you. Don't worry your little head off, we're watching you!"
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