A DARKNESS PALE

OTHERWISE

…Irie now working in Portland, Oregon, living the simple life of an administrator and feeling some peace…

Otherwise

Irie sat with her bad leg up on the desk blotter, watching the snow silently fall outside her office window. The big Christmas storm now three weeks later, and the snow still showed no sign of ceasing. Apparently it was snowing everywhere. Toula told Irie that out in places like Nebraska they’d given up trying to pack the snow down and were digging tunnels. Toula kept telling her the climate experts maintained the snow could be a last hurray before a greater stabilization. Stabilization meant chemical and mineral imbalances could be properly addressed. Infrastructure and satellites could be rebuilt, paving the way for the return of cell phones and the internet.

She’d believe it when she saw it. Also, she wasn’t even sure she wanted cell phones again. Same for the internet. Her view was tech made life different, not better or worse. Right now she was about as low tech as a person could get, and she had everything she needed.

She could hear Roddy Tot whistling while he cleaned the dorm. She’d explained to him about how there was a cleaning service and Roddy explained back, in that frank way of his she enjoyed, that the cleaning service was for shit and, as he put it, he had no truck lying idle. Her other two mediators, like her, had no trouble at all being idle. Oscar and Val were off in the field somewhere, supposedly doing community prevention work. They were a couple and were also in a band together, and Irie was sure whatever they were actually up to this afternoon was connected with their music. She didn’t care as long as they weren’t fucking up or trying to get her to sign off on letting them use the truck .

Roddy’s partner, the other new hire, still hadn’t shown up. The head office swore this person existed and was on their way. Irie wasn’t holding her breath.

It was almost time to clock out. She’d take the trolly to Movie Madness and pick out something fun. Go home and have dinner with Toula. Snow blow around the perimeter of the their house and spray a new coat of neutralizer on the outer walls. Haul in the water drum and purify it. Do the dishes. Accompany Toula to whatever group or collation or committee was happening that night and finally end things on the couch with the movie. Toula would fall asleep, cuddled up in her armpit. Irie would always carry her to bed.

Her phone rang.

“Irie. I need you…  To come to me.” Toula’s voice sounded strained.

“Everything okay?”

The stretch of silence on the other end spelled out a loud no. Toula gave her an address in China Town. It ended up being a therapist’s office, or more accurately, a departure counselor’s office. Irie wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. Cancer, or drifting was what she imagined, feeling dread as she rang the bell.

Toula and the counselor sat together on a little sofa. Irie was offered a padded rocking chair. 

The counselor’s skin was shiny. She gave Irie the insider look black women sometimes gave her. After the introductions she clasped her hands together. “Irie,” she said. “Thank you for coming. Thank you. Toula has something she needs to tell you.”

Irie gulped, her guts grinding. She said to Toula, “What’s going on?”

Toula said, “I’m drifting. Irie.”

There it is, Irie thought.

Tears welled up in Toula’s big eyes. A sob destroyed whatever she was trying to say next.

The counselor said, “Toula started seeing me several weeks ago. First to confirm that she had begun drifting, and then to process it so she could bring it to you and have some resolution before the conclusion. However, as happens sometimes, Toula took a jump forward. Drifting is very unpredictable. It can be slow and then suddenly move fast. Toula is no longer articulating. She’s moved past that.”

“So wait – what do you mean? What about her job – like did this just happen today?”

Irie only understood the basics of drifting, the distancing, the end of communication, the leaving and coming back, and then leaving for good to go die in nature. She thought about how Toula had been behaving recently. Maybe she hadn’t been as chatty the last couple of weeks. Had she been more distant?

“Toula won’t be able to continue doing her job, no. They know. Also, Toula and I have been keeping a journal, from which I can be her voice.” She picked up a single subject spiral notebook and opened it. Toula pointed to a passage.

“Yes,” the counselor said. She began to read. “I am worried about you, Irie. You are afraid. You are afraid to make decisions for yourself because you don’t know who you are. You’ve always relied on others. I’ve always seen a purity in you that’s so strong, but I know you won’t let yourself see it. I know you are who you are and I love you so much. When I’m gone I want you to be brave and find yourself.”

The counselor stopped and looked at Toula who nodded. The counselor said, “Ideally we had wanted to gradually explore all that with you, but with drifting you play the cards as they’re delt.”

Fake exotic plants attempted to soften otherwise austere corners, rising out of the sort of pots Kenyen women might have once balanced on their heads. There were colorful blankets hanging on the walls instead of paintings. All of the blankets were either wrinkled or warped. Toula was still crying.

“Toula would like to know what you’re feeling.”

Irie wasn’t sure what she was feeling. She was sure whatever it was it was probably wrong. She was a shitty and selfish subhuman. Toula understood this but for some reason loved her anyway. Or used to. Starting now it was all officially past tense with Toula. “I don’t know what to say,” Irie said. She leaned forward and took Toula’s hands in hers. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t understand what you want me to do, but I’ll do it. I won’t let you down.”

…Toula drifts. Irie falls apart and in so doing discovers the Source Orchard…