In the Shadow of Shakespeare (16 page)

 “What
say you Kit?  Marry!  To France you’ll go!  I ha’ not seen the
likes of it. Ever. Verily, Sir Francis trusts ye.”

Christopher
shook his head.  “What of my studies?  It will be a hard place to be
Nick.”

 “Think
on ye of the money Kit.  Ye won’t go for wont of hunger now.”

 “Aye. 
But for wont of something else.  Ye heard Sir Francis, ‘the cobbler should
not judge above the sandal.’  I shalt always be a pawn to Sir Francis,
Nick, ne’er a man.”

They
walked in silence.  As they made their way through the narrow streets,
Christopher felt a building sense of apprehension.  He felt a presence, a
fear, as the city was filled with the approaching twilight, and the shadows
began to lengthen.

Chapter 21

Alice
sat nestled in the corner of the couch watching them.  She did not
particularly feel like conversing with anyone, although Albert seemed to be in
good spirits.  He had invited Selina and Bernie over for dinner, and now
he and Selina sat at the kitchen table discussing shop.  She heard the
words ‘manifest complex,’ and ‘narcissistic disorder,’ then faded out
again.  At one time she thought it interesting to understand how Albert
thought about these things, but now it seemed so long ago.  It eventually
became just a vocabulary.  A way of discussing complex ideas.  And
then the abstraction seemed to disassociate itself from reality.  It
seemed to her that Albert had become more interested in talking about the
theories then about actual people. 

What
happened to their common imagery?  Their common language they once shared
together?  Alice didn’t know.  She sat on the couch fingering her
wine glass, then swallowed the last of the chardonnay.

 “Anyone
care for pate?  I made it yesterday.   It’s onion.”  She
looked over at Selina and Albert.

 “Oh
yes, that sounds divine.”  Selina smiled, white teeth gleaming.

Alice
got up and went to the kitchen.  Bernie was staring out the window above
the sink.

 “What’s
up?”  Alice said.

 “Oh. 
Nothing much.  Lost in thought.” 

Alice
poured herself some wine.  “Join me in a drink?”

 “Sure.” 

Alice
opened the cupboard and got another wine glass.  “Chardonnay or merlot?”

He
frowned.  “What are we eating?”

 “Just
pick.  Who cares.”

He
gave her a weak smile.  “I suppose…chardonnay.”

Alice
sat in a kitchen table chair.  “You’re more of a party pooper than I am.”

 “Really? 
Do I appear to be? ”  He sat next to her. 

 “Well,
we might as well pair up seeing those two out there are interested in nothing
but shop.”

 “Yes.” 
He sighed.

 “What’s
wrong?” 

 “Oh,
nothing.”

 “C’mon
tell me.  It would be nice to talk to someone other than a shrink for a
change.” 

 “Yes,
we could talk about alternative realities.”

She
thought she caught a gleam in his eye.  “It’s a start.”

 “Then
move on to sex.”  He laughed.

 “Actually,
I
could mix the two.”  She took a sip of wine.

 “I
know,” He said, eyes twinkling, “I heard about Marlowe.”

 “Really? 
It doesn’t surprise me. “ she said.  “Let’s talk about you.” 

 “Funding
for my project has been cut.  Can’t go all the way with no funding.”

 “I’m
sorry to hear that Bernie.  I know you were really into this
project.  No wonder you’re depressed.”

 “Yeah.” 
He sighed, sipped his wine.  “It’s more important to them to have bombs,
than investigate the nature of reality.”

 “What
do you mean?”

 “The
defense industry bid us out.”

 “Shit.”

 “Yeah,
that’s what I say.  Shit.  Who cares about reality?  We can blow
it all up anyway.”  He took the stem of his wine glass between his
fingers, rolled it between his thumb and index finger.  “You know, the
nature of reality is imperative to our understanding.”

 “You
don’t need to tell me that.”

 “I
know.  But what a loss you know?  There’s only a few other of my
colleagues that are working on Bohm’s theories.  And my baby…how the past,
present, and future intermix – are one, essentially, in the implicate
order.  Now it’s shelved.”

Alice’s
ears picked up.  “So what is the implicate order?”

 “The
underlying nature of all reality.  What we see is the explicate
order.  All of the explicate order is folded within the implicate
order.  And the mean thing about this funding cut – I was getting so close
to it in my equations.”

 “But
what does it have to do with time?”

 “Time
and space are constructs of our mind.  They are illusions, just as the
sages of the past have been telling us for countless generations.  I know
it’s hard to understand being stuck in a body, living in this so called three
dimensional reality.”  He shrugged.

 “I
have been living in two realities.  What do you think about that?” 
Alice challenged him. 

He
got up from the table poured himself some more wine, sat back down again. 
“So tell me.”

She
took a deep and began talking.  She left nothing out, and as she recounted
everything that had happened over the past months she felt relieved, then
drained, as if storing up all the information had been a kind of sickness and
needed to be purged.    “And Albert is worried you’re losing your
marbles?”

 “Yes.”

 “So
Selina says.”

 “And
that’s another thing, look at those two – so cozy together, doesn’t it get to
you?”

 “No. 
They care about you, that’s all.  Believe me, I would be the first to know
if there was anything between the two analysts, analyzing everything.”  He
laughed.

 “Hmm.”

He
patted her hand.  “I’m sure these past months have been hard on you.”

 “Yes,
very much so.  But what do you think?  Is it possible?”

“Anything
is possible.  If you want to be a good scientist you have to have an open
mind.  As they say in Zen, have a beginners’s mind.  A mind that is
not full of what you think reality is like.”

 “But
is what I experienced encountered in your theories?”

 “Well,
I don’t study parapsychological phenomena, but yes, I believe that it is
possible to tap into some sort of other reality.  Rip the fabric of the
space time continuum, so to speak.   Maybe you have found a point
that’s not so continuous.”

Albert
walked into the kitchen.  He was smiling and jingling something in his
pocket.  Alice had the distinct feeling that he was going to say something
important.

 “Albert,”
Bernie said.  “Just commenting on the lack of judiciousness in our
scientific system.  But I’m sure Selina has filled you in?”

 “That
she has.  Sorry to here it.  Do you think you’ll be able to do
anything about it next year?”

 “I
don’t know.  It’s a sorry thing when the economy dictates what we need
scientifically.  Can you believe they want me to work on that missile project? 
I told them to forget about it – that it would be a sorry day in hell when I
was involved in developing weapons of mass destruction.  That’s what they
call these things these days.  Say, when is the revolution anyway?”

Albert
scratched his head.  “Haven’t you Yanks had enough of that?  After
World War II I think the entire world has had enough of that sort of thing.”

 “The
world has had enough, but what about the people in power?  Where are our
compassionate leaders?  We need another person like Gandhi here in the
states.”

Alice
laughed.  “To stand up to our oppressors – the capitalists?”

 “Substitute
the capitalists for the British.  Cheers, mate.”  Albert slapped him
on the back, sitting down next to him.

 “Laugh
if you like, but we need to do something.  The people are getting
apathetic.  Set in their ways, and content with their white bread and
cheap gas.” said Alice.

 “It
is quite cheap here.”  Albert said.

 “You
two are missing the point.”  Bernie said.

 “The
point,” said Alice, “is always being missed.  It’s fluid.”  She
swirled the wine in her glass, watching the liquid catch the light. 

 “Well,”
Bernie knocked on the table.  “I’ll see what Selina is up to.  Maybe
she has fallen asleep.” 

Albert
took Bernie’s seat.  He swallowed hard, and appeared to be trying to keep
his composure, as if he might start crying.

 “What
is it?’  said Alice. 

 “I
have been a complete ass.”  Albert said.  “I know I haven’t been
listening to you and your feelings.  I know this Marlowe thing has become
important to you.”

 “Did
Selina tell you to say that?  Why don’t you have an original thought of
your own Albert.  Just once.”

Albert
stared at her.  A tear slid down his cheek and traveled down the length of
his face and fell on the table.

 “Fluid.”
She whispered.

 “I
brought you these keys.”  He said. 

He
reached into his pocket and pulled out two keys.  They were tied with a
red ribbon.  She picked them up fingering the ribbon.  It was smooth
and satiny. 

 “Two
keys?  What are these?”

 “The
keys to my heart.  One unlocks mine, and the other, yours.”  He put
his face in his hands and began sobbing.

Uncomfortable,
Alice shifted in her seat.  “I’m sorry.” she said.  “I don’t know
what to say to you.”

 “Why
do you say you’re sorry? 
Are
you sorry?”

Alice
did not want to get into the particulars of what sorry meant.  Of course,
it was just simply something to say when you felt uncomfortable.  Everyone
knew that.  And yet, she felt that she owed him something more than sorry,
but she didn’t know what it was.  She had already given many years of her
life to this relationship.  They had had a child together.  She was
thirty one years old.  But what did any of that mean? 

Was
she sorry that times were bad for them now?  She looked towards the
door.  Escape was easy. 

 “What
are the keys for Albert?”

 “The
keys.”  He looked up at her with red eyes.  Putting his hand in his
pocket he rooted around, withdrawing a slip of paper.  He placed it on the
table.

Alice
picked it up.  “An address?”

He
tried to smile.  “You’ll recognize it when you see it.”

Chapter 22

She
got off the highway in an area that she hadn’t seen in a while.  It was in
Livingston County – farm country.  She recognized it as an area where they
had gone picnicking.   She bit her fingernail remembering.  The
trees were filled with misty sunshine and the smell of coolness and country was
gathered around the hedgerows. 

A
ring necked pheasant darted across the road and Alice slowed the car.  It
ran into the field and stood alert, craning its neck, aware that she was
watching. 

She
pulled over to the side and sat in the car watching the sun cross the horizon
and glow against the field.  She got out of the car and stood next to the
field.  It had recently been plowed. 

She
took a deep breath and the smell of the earth made her stagger.  The scent
was so rich and removed from the city that it was like a tonic to her
mind.  She felt her spine straighten and her senses heighten.  The
hedgerows seemed to speak to her.  She went towards them listening. 
It’s
only the hum of insects.

A
monarch butterfly fluttered around her head then gently wafted towards a cone
flower.  As Alice watched, she crept towards it, observing how it probed
with its dainty probiscus, looking for the sweet nectar. 

She
looked up from the flowers and away from the field.  The house stood on
the hill.  It was an old farm house.  Albert said it had been built
in the late eighteen hundreds.  The shutters had been painted a bright
pink, contrasting with the white of the house.  Alice thought of the Tudor
rose.  I will walk inside the rose, she thought. 

She
jangled the keys in her hand and pushed the key into the lock.  The door
swung open and she walked inside.  Alice smiled, noting where she would
hang the pictures and place the furniture. 

The
staircase was directly to her left with a curving banister.  She placed
her hand on it, looking up the stairs.  She mounted the first step and
felt her body tingle with an electricity settling itself at the base of her
spine.  The warmth radiated through her legs as she ascended the
steps. 

At
the top of the stairs she turned towards a bedroom.  Light spilled around
the door, and she entered the room and sat on the bed covered with a lace
crochet spread.   She lay down on the bed, drowsy with longing and
desire.