The Second Circle

by J. Michael Keith

Part 1 and Part 2
appear in this issue.

conclusion

Her eyes narrow. “You have no right to deprecate her!”

I lean forward. “But that’s only the beginning, isn’t it Betty Jo? How the hell did you come back to Clifton with your stomach bulging out like that?”

“Thomas, you don’t understand!”

Uncontrollably, I stand up and shout. “I suppose you’re growing younger as well. I suppose you’ll look like Robin before long. And soon you will be a child and then an infant... and then you’ll crawl into a little... black- ”

My mouth shoots open, staring at her in disbelief. It suddenly dawns on me what must have happened to her. I look around, and the room is spinning. The chair is pushing me upward and I’m drowning in the memory of that awful, awful smell.

“Is that what happened in the spring?” I scream. “Goddamn you, Betty Jo, is that what happened to you?”

She’s crying. She’s all curled up on the bed and her hands are covering her face. But when I scream those last words, she sits up straight and takes in a deep breath.

I whisper, “So they shoved a dying baby up inside you?”

She swallows, wipes away the tears with the blanket. The faintest look of pride emerges and lights up her face. “Yes Thomas... that is how we die.”

* * *

I follow Charlie up the steep path of the mountain. The mountain, El Capitán.

Hiking is all I look forward to now. I’ve been dating Katie, Charlie’s sister, for almost three months and when he mentioned a trip south to Yosemite Valley, I was all over it. “Yeah I’ll go! Let’s go now. Let’s go yesterday!”

Why do I like hiking so much? It clears my head. It exhausts me completely. The irregular shapes of the mountains, the landscape — it’s sanctuary.

After I take a full roll of pictures, Charlie and I break out the food we cached in our backpacks. He squats down next to me as I gulp down some bottled water.

“So Thomas, what ever happened to you and Betty Jo? You were sort of married, right?”

I shake my head. “Too hard to explain.”

“So here I am, your best friend, and you keep that hidden?”

“Afraid so, bro.”

“Bastard!” Charlie starts laughing. Then he eyes me. “Thomas, look, about my sister.”

“Yeah?”

“It will never work.”

“Charlie, we’re both adults. We’ll make it work.”

“Nope. She’s not what you’re looking for. She’s too... normal.”

I shake my head, give him a hard stare. “Not true. Charlie, I’m very fond of your sister, really.”

“Then what about last night?”

“What?”

“Why did you say ‘Betty Jo’ a thousand times in your sleep?”

I just stare at him in disbelief.

The next morning, our last precious day in Yosemite, we walk up the Sentinel Dome. We leave in the early darkness using flashlights to reach the base of the steep, rocky ascent. Upon reaching the top, I turn myself around, taking in the complete 360 degrees of paradise. In every direction, something wonderful: a giant slab of rock, an elevated waterfall, a snow-covered mountain jumps out to reveal itself. Facing east, I sit down near the edge of the cliff and just stare in awe at the astounding sunrise that is slowly crawling over a forest.

I’m wondering why the unique contours, the endless diversity in the landscape, seem to always pull at me with such a tremendous power. Damn, it’s not like I ever had a choice in the matter. It’s not like I decided one day that mountains would be beautiful to me. They just are. It’s programmed in, hard-wired.

I thought about her then; about all the choices she never really had.

Charlie comes over beside me and sits down. I’m so entranced in the visual, I hardly noticed him slip a white envelope onto my lap.

“She asked me to give this to you personally.”

“You mean-”

“Yep, Betty Jo.”

“Why didn’t she just send it to me herself?”

“No clue.” Charlie munches on his sandwich, talking between bites. “Look, I didn’t ask questions. Before she mailed it, she called me on the phone from that island of hers. You know, from way out in the Pacific Ocean.”

“Oh?”

“But she sounded great, Thomas. My stupid jokes were making her laugh like a giggling girly. God, it was nice talking to her. You know something?”

My mind is already racing, picturing her smile, and hearing her voice again in my head. “No, what?” I say.

“I should have asked her out myself.” He rolls his eyes. “Instead of giving her your number.”

But I’m not listening. My hands shake as I quietly tear open the envelope. There’s a plane ticket in the letter. There’s also a smaller letter within.

I turn away from Charlie and open it.

Initially, I’m shocked at the familiar picture inside: a pocket-sized version of the same picture she had shown me back in Clifton. The picture is old; the colors are faded and blotchy. I don’t know why, but I stand up and step across the uneven rocky soil, farther away from Charlie.

Kneeling behind a boulder, I study the picture in detail. There’s an elderly lady sitting behind a cake, surrounded by a group of senior citizens at the table. Okay, I remember that much. But there’s also a woman behind her, covered in shadows. There are six candles on the cake, so maybe the lady in front was turning sixty. I grin. I remember how Betty Jo wanted me to think this women was so adorable. Yes, I suppose she does look handsome and even-

Wait a minute. My heart starts pounding and there are chills running through me. The knowing eyes of the old women; those little freckles on her nose, I know those features. And behind her, the adult women in the shadows — oh my god — it’s Robin. When I turn the picture over, the handwritten words on the back cause my entire world to flip upside down.

Betty Jo’s Sixth Year Birthday Party, 1974.

* * *

I clutch the handrail and step down the portable airplane staircase. It’s evening time in the Eversion Islands. There’s a strong breeze and the skies are almost dark, turning from blue to an esoteric shade of purple. I’m carrying my bags down the last few steps when I see the two of them waiting by the gate, the little one jumping up and down. Betty Jo starts to wave but stops when Rodney abruptly lets go of her hand and runs right up to me.

I pick him up. He seems smaller, and he’s talking a mile a minute and I’m only half listening because I’m eyeing Betty Jo as I hold her father in my arms. Rodney is telling me things like: “We knew you needed some time, Thomas.” And now he says, “Lizzy is almost walking, she has your jawbone and your hair and your... well, she looks a lot like you, you’ll see!” And then Rodney leans closer so his lips are almost touching my ear. “Betty Jo was sick without you, Thomas. What were thinking, leaving her like that?”

“Okay, you little old man,” I say laughing, putting Rodney down.

I pick up my bags and walk toward her, but she’s not coming my way. There’s no embrace. And she’s not giving me that look-into-my-heart look either.

She looks nervous.

“Hi Betty Jo,” I say.

“Hello Thomas. Did you see the water around the islands when you landed?” she asks.

“Uh yeah. It looked just like before. Green.”

She nods, then looks at Rodney who’s still giving me the eye. “How about we play tonight?” he asks. “I haven’t had a good game of chess since you left.”

Betty Jo puckers out her lower lip, perhaps in sympathy for Rodney. She steps over and whispers in my ear. “Robin beat him yesterday but he doesn’t even remember. He’s more than seventy now and starting to show signs... starting to have what you would call senior moments.”

When we get to the house, I meet her brother William and his wife Kim. They’re sitting with Robin, playing cards on the dinning room table. After a few minutes of pleasantries, however, I can’t hold still any longer. I excuse myself and take a quick walkabout, looking upstairs and then down in the kitchen and family room. I even look for a basement, but quickly remember the house is built on a slab. Obviously, I’m anxious. I walk through the kitchen, step down to the back porch and at last, find her.

“Lizzy?”

Except it’s not just Lizzy. There are three elderly figures in the room, and I’m flabbergasted because two of them are all too familiar. Jake and Sylvia are on their knees, playing with wooden Brio train set, attaching the little passenger cars to the engine and pushing across the tracks.

I turn to the other side of the room and see her.

Rodney was right. I see myself in her face. Her hair is silvery white and her cheeks are flushed with color, the juntas coloring in her skin is gone. Lizzy is on her knees, surrounded by an abundance of toys and coloring paper sprawled all over the floor. Like the other’s, she’s chirping away, babbling word after word of pure gibberish.

I can’t help but smile.

She keeps glancing back to me as she plays, and now, we just stare at each other. Like looking at one of those bizarre circus mirrors, the ones that stretch your face like it’s made of bubble gum. I sit down on the couch and Lizzy gets an idea, I think, because a grin pushes into her cheeks. On all fours, she crawls over to a stack of books, and retrieves a real big one. Then she climbs up next to me on the couch and puts the book in my lap.

She wants Dad to read.

* * *

The summer’s almost over and Betty Jo decides to have an evening picnic on the beach. Just the two of us. She says it’s like an anniversary.

Before we eat, we walk along the shore holding hands and the cool mist from the water brushes against my face. When she pulls at my hand to stop, though, she gives me that look.

She whispers, “No more secrets.”

I take a step back and cross my arms. “Betty Jo, I know you didn’t have a choice...”

But she’s already let go of my hand and resumed walking, farther down the shoreline. When I catch up to her, she says asks the question.

“Thomas, be honest, do you really feel better... about how different I am.”

“I feel better, Betty Jo.”

“So you know I’m not an alien?”

I chuckle. “No more than I am.”

“And you can live with the fact that I was born in the ground, like Lizzy.”

At this moment, I stop; my eyes are welling up. The water below us pulls back into the ocean, pulling hard at my legs, and causing our feet to sink into the sand.

“Betty Jo,” I say, blinking back the tears and releasing her hand, “ I have to be honest. It’s not your differences that bother me anymore.” I lift up my foot and kick the water. “It’s mine.”

With a puzzled stare, she leads me back into the dry sand and we crouch down to our knees. “Thomas, I’ve never had a problem with your differences.”

“But you should,” I take a shuddered breath, “because while you grow younger and more vibrant, I’ll be growing older and weaker and... well, let’s face it: far less appealing.”

“Is that what you think?” She shakes her head incredulously. “That growing older makes you what? Less of a person?”

“Well... I didn’t say that exactly.”

“Thomas, don’t you understand how lucky you are? The way you will change. We envy you so much.”

I swallow. “Okay, you’ve completely lost me. Why would you envy me?”

“Because aging is relative! To us, you grow young. You change each day, becoming younger, more refined, and of course more and more beautiful like Lizzy.” She leans closer to me now and speaks in a soft sexy voice. “It’s part of the attraction I have for you, Thomas.”

Stunned, I just let myself fall back into the sand and laugh wildly. I want to kick my legs with excitement, but she slides on top of me and rests her head in the cove of in my neck. I feel warm and aroused beneath her soft blanket of skin.

I clear my throat. “Uh, speaking of your attraction for me, do you think we could-”

“Later if you’re lucky,” she says, smirking at me. She pushes herself up and off me. “And by the way, that means you can’t run away again.”

With that, Betty Jo runs down toward the breaking waves, her feet stomping into the shallow water as she hunts for shells. The random ocean drifts dance with her long strands of hair, whipping them around her shoulders and face. As usual, my head follows her every movement like I’m in a trance.

Before I get up, I happen to clutch up the sand in my hands, slowly relaxing my grip so it streams downward like an hourglass. I wonder how much time we really have. Ten years? Maybe less. I feel a swelling in my throat, wondering what might happen.

A large wave breaks out farther, growling like thunder, and Betty Jo shrieks and runs back out to the drier sand. She eyes me as she roars with laughter the way she did at the skating rink when she shrieked every time she fell on the ice.

I lean back in the warm sand and just laugh.

Betty Jo strides up towards me. She’s panting and there are little beads of salt water on her legs and bare arms. “Hey you,” she says. “There’s something else I want you to see.”

I stand, brush the sand off my legs and arms, and the distinct aroma is upon me. I sense the remnant air particles from the ocean. It’s the same foreboding smell as before, when Lizzy rose out of the ground, but it doesn’t faze me now. I touch her hand, slide my fingers into hers. We walk further along the shoreline, letting the ocean’s waves push up and over our ankles. We trudge onwards until we reach the place where the beach ends.

There’s a mountain of gigantic rocks ahead and a gathering of birds. Flocks of seagulls and pelicans are flying up the rocky contour to the pillars of an immense bridge. The bridge sprawls across the water like a giant hand reaching out to the next island.

I imagine the bridge is Betty Jo reaching out to me... always reaching out to me.

I look at the two islands, back and forth, hearing the seagulls and the pelicans and the gentle breathing of the ocean. I’m thinking now that I could never leave this place. I’m not afraid. I want to stay here, learn about the islands and explore them like my mountains.

We stop for a moment, one of those long moments when everything stills to crystal.

I look at Betty Jo, at her two brilliant eyes, and remember again how we skated that night. I remember how we would join where the two circles met... and then push off in opposite directions, moving in circles that never end, and never begin.