The hum of air conditioners buzzed all round them. The streets were filled with Puerto Rican barbeques and ex-squeegee men selling iced cold bottled water to people stuck in traffic. Ashley and Chelsea crossed Third Avenue in Brooklyn and winded their way through the Sunset Park streets up to Fifth Avenue and Twenty Fifth Street. The immense green foliage was a balm to the urban eye. As they passed through the huge wrought iron gates and approached the mammoth gothic arches Ashley turned and said, “This is Green-wood.”
“The mausoleums on the hill gave it away.” Chelsea said chuckling.
In the manicured field to the right of the large driveway and entrance to the historic cemetery were newly interred Federal Civil War soldiers unearthed from their places down south and laid to rest closer to home. Green-wood had been established in 1838 and was the second oldest cemetery in the country. It is a city of the dead and a living museum with rolling hills and lush vegetation aesthetically planted and landscaped specifically for the deceased and their loved ones. Olmstead studied Green-wood thoroughly and the effect the landscape had on human emotions. Every urban park built since then owes their design and tranquility to Green-wood a model of Victorian reverence for the dearly departed.
They wandered up through the immense gates past the offices and up battle hill. Chelsea stopped and stood still.
“What is it?” Ashley asked.
“Silence.” Chelsea marveled. “We’re in the busiest city in the world and I can’t hear anything but the wind. It’s amazing.”
“I want to show you one of my favorite places.” Ashley whispered and she held out her hand. Chelsea took it and a cool breeze rustled the abundant leaves on the trees as they made their way up the hill. She felt that inexplicable tingle whenever their fingers intertwined. The simplest touch seemed to have a profound effect on her. The first and most impressive monument was the one dedicated to the Civil War. Four different life-sized zinc statues flanked the four corners of an immense column representing the four parts of the military: Infantry, Cavalry, Artillery and Engineers. Its modest yet impressive design gave Chelsea pause. She could feel the weight that it represented on an etheric level. A century and a half had passed and yet the glory and sadness of such a momentous event that took literally one fifth of the American population at that time was still palpable. She could feel it in the very core of her bones. There were many untold stories and lives that had slipped into obscurity with no witness to pass along the bravery and at times altruism that nameless soldiers had mustered.
“It’s over here.” Ashley said as they wound their way through the mausoleums and over to a bronze statue.
“This is Minerva. She’s standing in the highest point in Brooklyn.” Ashley explained. As Chelsea moved around the stone rectangular base the inscription revealed that Minerva was the goddess of war and wisdom. The monument sculpted in remembrance of the American Revolution and the patriot dead who lost their lives while gaining freedom. Chelsea moved close to Ashley who stood just beside the statue and gazed out over the harbor.
“She’s waving to the Statue of Liberty.” Ashley whispered. The summer sun reflected off the waters of New York Harbor and the midday air had a slight haze. Water taxis, tugboats and barges moved to and fro and yet the only sounds that could be heard was the wind and the women as they breathed.
“I think you might like London.” Chelsea said breaking the serenity. Ashley did not answer but held her gaze. She loved New York and its colorful history. They sat down on a park bench and took in the view.
“I’m not so sure.” Ashley replied. “I know that you want me to have a good experience and I appreciate that.” Then she was silent for a moment and she was lost in her thoughts. “Down south it seems like there are two seasons summer and rain. The winter there is rainy. Once in a blue moon we might get snow but usually it’s rain…for days. And even though it doesn’t get terribly cold, coupled with dampness it makes your bones hurt. Can’t get warm no matter how hard you try. There aren’t enough blankets.”
As Chelsea listened she felt as though she had heard this soliloquy before. It was incredibly familiar even though this was the first time Ashley spoke of her beginnings.
“At least here in New York there are four seasons and real weather. The winter here is cold, yes. But it’s dry. Makes my hair look like crap but I can get warm when it’s dry.” She laughed.
Chelsea wasn’t sure what this had to do with their trip to London but she kept quiet and knew that there would be a thread.
“My mom and I have a saying when it rains for days. ‘ Hide the ropes and knives’.” Ashley added.
“That’s a bit severe.” Chelsea replied quietly.
“Those were the years of my teenage angst.” Ashley laughed but there was something real under it all and a heaviness washed over Chelsea. She wondered if she could make a difference or if she had made a mistake.
“Hurricanes…tornadoes…ice storms…” Ashley mused for a moment replaying the harsher memories in her mind. “Anytime the wind blows down there in Appalachia we lose power. Mama and my sister would play gin rummy by firelight.”
“And your dad?” Chelsea asked sweetly.
“Ha. My dad would drink.” Ashley replied and the answer was sharp and pointed.
“I didn’t mean to bring up---“
“Oh, that’s okay. He doesn’t do that anymore.” Ashley said cheerfully. But the weight of it was still visible.
“One time we had a bad ice storm and we were without power for two weeks. It doesn’t sound like much but when you don’t have the things that you’re used to it feels hard. We cooked over an open fire and slept under mounds of blankets. At one point it was colder inside our house than it was outside…We were down to half a loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter…It wasn’t the first time I felt real hunger.”
“Nothing in the house?” Chelsea wondered. Ashley shook her head ‘no’.
“What we had the church brought over from the congregation’s pantry…” Ashley explained. Facets of her friend were emerging and revealing. Chelsea knew that hardships could sometimes forge extraordinary people. The petals were slowly unfurling.
“My best friend’s dad had a heart attack from the cold.” Ashley said in a far off voice. “He died. It was really sad. He was only forty-two…I secretly wished it had been mine.”
“I’m sorry.” Chelsea said softly.
“Oh, don’t be. It made me who I am. I’m just…afraid…London will bring up all that stuff I’ve worked so hard to forget.” Ashley explained then she turned and gazed at Chelsea. She was taking in every nuance and facet, gleaning information and forging something permanent with the raw materials. “I’ll consider it a myth-busting adventure!” Then she jumped up and took a fighter’s stance. It made Chelsea laugh.
“I am not my past!” Ashley said loudly and shadow boxed herself against a mausoleum. “Take that! And That! And that! Haha!” She exclaimed.
“You’re a lot stronger and resilient than you give yourself credit.” Chelsea said as she caught Ashley’s wrists in her hands and her soothing touch quieted the excitement within. A wisp of Chelsea’s hair caught the wind and it took Ashley’s breath away. She was gazing at Victoria and Chelsea and everyone else that they had been to each other all converging as one in that moment in time.
Chelsea looked down at Ashley’s hands and for a moment they were strong and masculine and she could feel the power emanating outward. She knew how those hands felt against her body and the sensual desires that they engendered. Richard. She could feel Richard before her and simultaneously she could feel Ashley, the softer side of Richard. And that sensation of spiraling up and outward began at the base of her spine and every place along the way tingled and spun and their was and electric buzz that came from deep inside, a kind of harmonic that heralded the coming of something magical and great.
“They must have an archive or database back in the office.” Chelsea said and her eyes were on fire as if she were onto something.
“Sure.” Ashley replied and she was instantly transported to the present.
“Let’s go and see if Mr. Rhys and Victoria are here.” Chelsea said and the words were so telling that it made Ashley shiver for a moment. Victoria and Richard were standing right there with them on that grassy knoll at the highest point in Brooklyn. At times invisible but definitely tactile. As sure as she breathed Ashley was quite aware of the presence of something otherworldly and the simultaneity of time.
Richard was still sitting at the Vechte Cortelyu house just across the Gowanus canal. He was weak and feverish and thirsty. The Dutch boy had fetched him some water.
“The gentleman that was sitting here.” Richard began.
“Ya?” The boy replied.
“Where is he? He seemed to vanish.” Richard asked.
“Dat man? Here?” The boy looked around bewildered. “He must have been a traveler like yourself.”
“I’m not a ‘traveler’ as you call it. I’m alive.” Richard exclaimed.
“Ya, ya. You can travel while alive…or not.” The boy explained as he poured the spring water into a cup. Richard gulped at it never expecting to be sated.
He noticed the boy’s attention had been interrupted and he gazed off into the distance and then nodded. Richard thought it quite strange and then the boy turned back to him suddenly.
“I’ll show you where he is, but…” He began.
“What is it?” Richard countered and he tried to see what the boy was seeing.
“There’s an Indian.” He said slightly alarmed.
“Where?” Richard asked.
“There.” And the boy pointed. Through the wavy glass of the window Richard could make out a lone figure at the edge of the field near the canal. The Dutch farmers seemed on edge by the Indian’s presence and they methodically began to gather arms.
“No. No. I do not think this aboriginal will harm anyone.” Richard said getting up. He knew it must be the Indian he had encountered in the woods on the way to the farm. It must be Tamanend. The Dutchmen shook their heads and prepared themselves. They did not want violence but they would not tolerate an attack either.
“I will speak to him.” Richard said getting up with a bit of difficulty. They Dutchmen threw open their window sashes and positioned their weapons. The boy grabbed hold of Richards’s arm stopping him momentarily.
“You must say, ‘Thank you, Ansa.’” He instructed nearly out of breath. It was a weird request, but he nodded in agreement and stepped toward his destiny.
“You must say, ‘Thank you, Ansa, Please.’” The boy implored.
“Yes, yes. Thank you Ansa, please.” Richard repeated and he pulled his arm from the boy’s grasp.
It felt as if the land stretched farther and farther with each step Richard took. The closer he thought he was getting to the figure the further away it actually was. He surmised he might spend the entire day trying to cross the field. People on the road seemed further away than the perspective he encountered as he entered the farm. Once they noticed the figure they moved exponentially farther out of the way than necessary. Richard thought it disquieting and their fears completely out of proportion to the illusory threat. With each step the figure came into clearer focus. At times he was not sure if he were greeting a woman or a man. The androgynous appearance emanated great physical strength and frightening power. He stopped for a moment and wondered if perhaps he might be moving closer to an angel or other kind of disincarnated spirit. The apparition was solid, though, and dense with finite dimensions. Perhaps the being was a medicine man, he thought. As he approached he noticed that it was not Tamanend. The entity had stark white hair and almond shaped eyes. As he drew near he realized that it changed its outward form to be smaller and more serene. It was, indeed, a woman. She was young. And although she was dressed in the robes and skins of an Indian her countenance had an oriental shape to it. When he was within a few yards of her she smiled warmly and stretched out her hands. He noticed that she wore an exquisite buffalo robe. It was the same bison hide that had saved his life during his trek through the storm. It was the skin that kept he and Victoria warm through the frigid nights and the sensual fur that they had made love to each other on while the world was covered in snow. As he greeted her and their palms touched a jolt of pure white light flooded through him. Suddenly he could breathe and the fatigue that plagued him was gone. He was shining and new. He was no longer hungry, tired and sick, but rather virile, satiated and the epitome of health and power.
“Thank you, Ansa, please.” He whispered. And the women’s eyes filled with tears of joy as she pulled him close.
“The time is fast approaching.” She said joyfully. “When all that you wish for shall be granted. But you must hold fast.”
“Hold fast?” He repeated unsure what she meant.
“To all the parts of you scattered about the earth. A covenant has been made. I am one of those parts.” She said and as she gazed at him Richard could see down into the depths of her brown eyes and he knew that he had been her. He recognized himself and the power and knowledge that he once had. The industrialized world and its harsh reality made him forget. Through her hands came the long forgotten mysteries that he had once mastered. The natural world functions in cycles and defies the linear invention of time.
“But now is the time. Now is the place for everything to be set right.” She said gleefully. “Be ever grateful for the hard tasks as well as the life-affirming. The debts are paid and the wheel rotates indefinitely. We are entering the place of evolution where immortality waits. Go to her.”
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