Here, In This Place: An Origin Tale

 S  I  X

THE

JOURNAL

OF DANIEL RAWLINSON

 

PART ONE

“I believe in destiny.”

-Kruinh Kertesz

The first time Dan Rawlinson saw the house, he was feeling lonely. It was Halloween. He was fifteen and he and his friends had driven down to Glencastle in Will Bonney’s dad’s car. They left from the south end of Lassador, traveling about forty five minutes southwest, a tang in the blue air, when they rolled down the windows, and now they were on a street lined in flame colored October trees.

The house with its turrets and large diamond shaped windows, its wrap around porch and the great cupola looking down on him was deep purple and green, shuttered, and no one else seemed to notice it. He and all his friends leapt out of the car with their bags and their half assed costumes, and Jack said, “This rich old neighborhood is the best candy in town.”

“And we’re not really even in town,” Will Bonney said.

“Divide and conquer and beat up kids if you have to,” Jack said. “See you guys in… synchronize watches… two hours.”

As they split up, Jack suddenly turned around and said, “I was joking about the whole beating up kids thing. You know that… right?”

They just looked at him, plastic bags hanging from their hands, and then they all split up to see how much of the candy of Glencastle, Ohio they could make their own. The looks on peoples’ faces often implied, “Aren’t you kind of old to be trick or treating?” and one Black woman simply said it, but she gave Dan candy anyway. They were right of course. It would have actually been ten times easier to go to the store, buy candy and just eat it. So it must not have been about the candy. It must have been about something else. The sky was going that strange bruised color that only happened in October, and Dan was standing at the top of a hill. Seeing the river, wide and silver blue threading through the trees that were losing their leaves, and from this point he looked down on the block they had come to and saw that house.

`   “That’s what I’m looking for. That’s the different thing I’m looking for.”

He made his way to the street where the car was. Dan noticed that, among the old Victorians there were a few houses where kids did not go. And why didn’t they go? But he would go. He would go to that very house he had first seen. There was no gate, and he just went up the brick path and to the great wrap around  porch, and he came to the large wooden door with lights shining through the cut glass window and the lace curtains, and he knocked.

It was opened by a Black woman, and Dan hoped she wouldn’t say something withering like the woman he’d seen before. But any sort of hope didn’t matter because she was so beautiful, and so strange. Her eyes were blue as her skin was dark, and black hair fell down her back like, he felt stupid for thinking it, an Indian princess. She was exactly as tall as he was, and would always be that way, and he wondered if she wasn’t in a costume, for she stood in a red dress with a great dark blue shawl around her shoulders.

And she was still looking at him.

“Trick or treat!” he said.

“Who is it?” a voice came from down the hall.

The woman opened the door, turned around and called, “Trick or treaters! One,” she modified, “Trick or treater.”

There was silence, and then laughter, and then the voice said, “Well, then you have to bring him in.”

The woman nodded and did so, closing the door behind Dan.

The foyer was of paneled and polished wood, and he could see a large old timey living room off to his right. Dan sniffed the air. “Is that coffee?”

“We’re just getting up,” the woman said. “Would you like a cup?”

“I…” Dan looked at his watch.

“You will not be late to meet your friends again,” she said, gently. “Come. I am Tanitha.”

“I’m Dan.”

“We’ve been waiting for you,”

“Really?”

She threw back her head, laughing, and Dan was convinced that she was not only the most beautiful woman in the world, but the lightest and happiest woman he’d ever seen.

“Of course not! Sit, I’ll cut the coffee cake.”

 

Soon a man came down the stairs, and he was dressed well and looked like he could have been Tanitha’s brother except that he did not have the blue eyes. They were dark, but Dan could not tell if they were brown or black because that would have entailed staring. The man well dressed, and everytime Dan tried to look at him closely he took in vest, good trousers, tie, a ring with a green stone on a long brown finger. But his eye was almost compelled to slide away before looking too long.

“We have a guest,” the man said, and his voice was elegant, but again, Dan could not say how, could not place the accent. It wasn’t foreign, but it wasn’t exactly American. As the man smiled broadly at him, Dan gave up trying to figure these things out. He knew it would be rude to ask.

“Happy Halloween,” the man said. “I guess that’s why you came by?”

“Yes,” Dan said. As he spoke he was surprised by the disappearance of teenage haltings, the “ums” and the “likes”. In the presence of these strangers, even as Tanitha cut the warm coffee cake and handed him a slice. He was possessed of a maturity, and evenness of voice he’d never known.

“Thank you,” Dan said, and the man poured him coffee and said, “It’s never been a big night for us. Cream is over there. I suppose it’s a big night for witches, though, but not for us.”

Dan gave a half laugh because he was only half sure this man was joking, and he spooned a great deal of sugar into his coffee.

“I am Kruinh by the way,” the man said, extending his hand. It was a long hand, but Kruinh was not a large man, as tall as Tanitha, and as tall as Dan. Dan looked around this kitchen with its hanging herbs and copper pans looking so peaceful and old timey and not old timey, but…

Out of time.

He said, “Are you married?”

Kruinh laughed and Tanitha shook his head.

“Kruinh is my father,” Tanitha said.

Dan looked quickly at Kruinh and tried to assess how that could be possible. There were, to be sure, well preserved adults, and everyone had heard the phrase “Black don’t crack.” But this man was visibly young, not youthful or youngish, but young, and his daughter was a full grown woman.

“I think,” Kruinh said, sipping his coffee, “that you have questions.”

“None of them are really polite,” Dan said.

“Daniel Rawlinson, you are a very polite young man,” Kruinh said.

Dan nodded, and then even as something came to his mind, Kruinh continued, “And of course, at this moment you are wondering how I knew your name, and so I will tell you mine. I am Kruinh Kertesz and this is my daughter Tanitha. Sometimes she is Kertesz, but sometimes she is Tzepesh. You are welcome into our home anytime you can find it. I am a great believer in fate, in things being…. Meant. I believe in destiny.”

And Dan found himself asking, found himself because it seemed like he had been meant to ask it, and he wanted to resist this, “Why is that?”

Kruinh said, cheerily, “You would never have found this house otherwise.”

Dan blinked at him.

“No one else did,” Kruinh said. “Did you see anyone running to this door asking for candy? Did any of your friends even see it? No. You were meant to find us.”

“Are you witches?”

“Well, you already know we aren’t,” Tanitha said.

“Then…” Dan felt at a loss, “what are you?”

“You are the one who came here and knocked on our door with that lame line,” Tanitha said, “knowing full well there’d be no candy here tonight. And yet you came, so the better question is who are you? And what did you come here for?”

“I…” Dan started. “I… Came to find… I dunno.”

“You do know,” Kruinh said, softly.

“Something more,” Dan said. “I came to find something more.”

Kruinh nodded.

“That is what we are,” he said. “We are that something more. Or part of it.”

Dan did not say anything else because he didn’t know what else to say. He had a strong feeling that whatever came out of his mouth might be foolish, and there was a consciousness in him that had never been present before, and it was saying Enjoy this moment. Enjoy these people, this cake, this coffee. This is one of the only times you’ve had coffee. This is one of the only times you have been…

There was no worry about meeting his friends on time. He knew that he would. He knew that in this moment he was in an alright place, that he would never have been here if he wasn’t supposed to be.

This is one of the only times you have been…

“This is a good… dinner,” Dan started.

“You know it isn’t that,” Kruinh said without raising his eyes.

“Laurie brought a frittata,” Tanitha noted. “We could have that.”

“Um,” Kruinh began, swilling coffee, “I thought you’d made it.”

“You most certainly did not,” Tanitha said.

“Tanitha does not have,” Kruinh began, “should we say, cooking skills.”

“That’s what the servants are for,” Tanitha said, grandly, and though she laughed, Dan thought she was only half joking.

“This is breakfast for you?” Dan said.

“That it is,” Tanitha answered, “and you should be glad that we woke up early tonight. I don’t know,” she turned to her father, “Maybe there is something about this night. For all of us. I can feel it.”

This is one of the only times you have been… Yourself.

Tanitha rose to take the frittata out of the oven, and Kruinh, taking out a silver case and pulling up a cheroot, lit it. As the sweet smoke drifted to Dan’s nostrils, Kruinh said, “And tell us about Dan Rawlinson.”

“There isn’t much to tell.”

“No?”

“Maybe,” Tanitha said, setting the frittata on the table, “there isn’t much to tell… yet.”

“I hope there is,” Dan said. “One day. Eventually. Me and my friends are trying to start a band. It never comes together.”

“Maybe you should get better friends,” Kruinh suggested.

The frittata was delicious, and Dan said so. He said, “You all can’t… predict the future or anything?”

“Not anything like that,” Kruinh said. “We are distinctly unmagical.”

“Then why does this night feel magical?” Dan said.

Tanitha said, “A witch would say the whole world is magical.”

“But—” Dan began.

“I am no witch,” Kruinh said. “And rarely have I met one.”

“A meeting with their kind is rare,” Tanitha said, and then she looked at Dan’s empty plate and looked to the clock.

“It’s time. Your friends must be on their way back to the car.”

She rose, pulling on the shawl that had fallen from her shoulder and Dan, after shaking Kruinh’s hand, left with Tanitha through the great living room that was filled with old sofas and fat chairs looking from the yard onto the street, homely tables and a great lamp with an old stainglass shade. There, on the other side of the hedge and past the trees was Will’s Dad’s car with Will leaning against it, tapping his foot, and here were Jack and Riley coming up from the right with plastic bags swinging.

“Thank you so much,” Dan said. He did not say her name. It seemed too forward.    

“Be safe, Daniel Rawlinson,” Kruinh called as Tanitha led him to the door.

At the heavy door, suddenly Tanitha took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead.

“That’s a protection,” she said. “And in the end, it will guide you back.”

“Wha?” Dan began, but Tanitha opened the door and shoved him out saying, “Go, before they leave you.”

Dan ran off the porch steps. At the bottom he stopped and memorized the metal numbers 4848. 4848 Brummel Street. Well, then. And he ran down the walk and onto the sidewalk, and Will looked up and said, “Where were you?”

When Dan opened his mouth, Will said, “Never mind. We need to be heading back.”

The moon was fat and white, and the street was lit by few lamps. When he hopped in the backseat and took one last look at the house of Tanitha and Kruinh, he could not tell which one it was. Was it that one, or the one next to it? But hadn’t there been a cupola? Ah, but there was no time to look. He would look again. He would return, but for now they were headed back to town.