"Psst," I heard above the weird crowd of the renaissance festival.
"Psst," there it was again.
"Psst, young man," I turned around, as if my name was Psst.
"Yes you. Come here," A gypsy woman urged, waving me towards her velvet fort.
I made my approach and slowly peeked my head inside. Dad had been spotted, so he'd be busy signing autographs for at least ten minutes and I didn't care to be a part of it.
"Uh hi," I announced myself and looked around the dark, blood red room. I had to take off my bizarre shades in order to see anything. There wasn't much, a small, round, cloth covered table sat in the center, with two folding chairs tucked under it. There was a tall candle stand where a single, fat, black candle burned calmly. Behind that, closer to the velvet wall, I saw a cardboard box with a bunch of stuff hanging over the edges like she had been searching for something that was at the bottom.
"Please, sit down. I won't bite," she smiled, awkwardly. She had a strange accent; it was kind of formal Latino. It was also very broken up, like Benny's Native American grandmother. "I'm glad you could make it Elias, I was getting worried," she continued. "What I have for you is very important." Next thing I knew I was sitting across from her. I had to concentrate to see her features because the only useful light was the filtered sun through the top of the thick, velvet material. She was a bit round; a thick-bodied pixie if there is such thing. So short, her long, dark and bushy hair seemed to be too much for her to manage. She kept talking while she pulled a small leather pouch from the top of her white, ruffled blouse. "You worry too much about your family. And your home, this beautiful city deserves a chance. Why are you here?" She asked this as if I had barged in uninvited.
I was beginning to ask myself the same thing; why was I there -- not there in the world, I knew that wasn't easily answered -- but there, with this abnormality. She spoke with zero emotion like a bad news reporter.
Out from the pouch she poured a rainbow of seven little masks and a long leather string. I figured from the leather tie, it was some sort of necklace, when I noticed its small loop on one end and the spiral curl on the other. The masks must slide on, I thought. Her small fingers flowed like chalky white paint; pushing the masks out across the purple star-speckled tablecloth so they faced me. I squirmed in the chair. Her understanding of me was kind of spooky. But, as I watched her talk, my anxiety faded. I slipped into a zombie-trance. I stared at her totally clear blue eyes -- there was something very disturbing yet also comfortably familiar about them. I swear I could see every eyeball particle ripple through her personal, blue Jello® pools. I noticed her necklace too; the pendant was a silver metal disc. It was about the size of a half dollar; on it was a wolf howling to the sky. Weird thing was, it wasn't howling at a moon like normal, it was howling at the sun -- complete with rays shooting all around the edges and a smile on it's face. The disc was tied tight with a thick, black ribbon around her neck; maybe that was why she sounded so funny. I looked at her hands; one of her rings flashed a tiny light. My eyes darted back to hers. That was it. Her big blue eyes had this white star-like highlight in them that I'd seen before. It was just like Mom's blue, star sapphire ring that Dad and I bought her for Christmas a few years before. The really eerie thing about this lady's eyes was that the white was all there was in the center of each eye, there was no black pupil like you and me have. The only thing that comforted me was that I knew enough about movie making to realize they must have been contact lenses.
Then I was able to focus on what she said. "It is possible to let your defenses interfere too much so that you don't know what you really want and what you could be. But it's okay, look here." She went on, "These masks will give you all the strength you can handle for any situation. You will recognize who you are and why you are here by one of these; each color embodies a power of emotion or strength of character. Red is for love and compassion. Yellow equals funny, happy, like sunshine and Bart Simpson. The green is temperamental, an extremely powerful energy that can be anger and jealousy or strength and courage; it depends on you. This deep blue is calm and cool, like the ocean. The rusty orange helps with knowledge, history and memory.
"Oh, I have a memory box," I blurted.
"Even a well organized storage unit, gathers dust," she was, disturbed by my interruption. "The purple is spiritual power, magic and honesty. Finally, the pearly white is a wild mask. It can make any of the others stronger, maybe good, maybe bad, it depends on the intention of your heart. It also reflects your intuition. These are only for you. No telling what will happen if someone other than you uses them. Even you should only use as needed. The answer you seek is in you. Do not ignore the calling. You will always be restless and your life will be boring and empty if you do." Before she stood, she scooped up the masks and the leather string into the pouch, handing it to me, "One last thing; never wear the green and white together, you are not yet strong enough to handle this unpredictable combination. Oh, and watch your backs, particularly when it seems too hard." then she parted the velvet walls to create an exit.
"Awesome!" I shouted so loud, I scared myself. I jumped like I just woke up. The bright sun blinded my eyes after the darkness of the blood night room. Tripping and almost falling on my face, somehow I caught myself. I put on my bizarre glasses and when I walked towards Dad, I couldn’t feel my feet touch the ground -- not in a mustard fudge, good floatie way either -- more of a heart attack, sleep-walkie way.
"You okay Son?" he asked, putting his arm around me.
I had to have been gone at least twenty minutes, but Dad had just finished signing the same lady's autograph, so it couldn't have been more than twenty seconds. Then it occurred to me. How did that gypsy know my name? Maybe Dad had to give it for the tickets? I don't know if it was the power in the pouch, the heat of the day, or my soccer injury coming back to haunt me but I felt an increasing desire to puke as hot beads of sweat formed under my bangs. I needed a vacation, but I thought of a diversion.
"Can we find a bathroom?" I asked.
Latching the porta-potty door happened without me feeling it. Good thing I was numb because the modern day outhouse was pungently putrid and steamy. It was a smell that made me wish for a million boogers. I could taste the threatening puke trying rise in my throat. I took a deep breath and for the second time in as many days I thought I was going to pass out.
The pouch.
I pulled it from my pocket and fished around for the blue mask. I snagged it between two fingers, instantly I began to feel better. The vomit retreated. After carefully threading the spiral end of the leather through a small hook built into the back of the mask -- all while holding my breath -- I popped the string's curly end through the open loop on it's other end. A major concentrated effort, broken only by a brief notice of a raised swirly symbol by the hook. Pulling my new necklace over my head, I put the pouch back in my pocket. Miraculously, the sweat was gone faster than it formed. The sold-out concert that had been going on inside of my body fell silent. My heart stopped pounding like a rapper's car speakers, my ears weren't like sledgehammers beating down concrete and my skull was no longer the container for a blender blade. For the first time since that fan asked Dad for his autograph I felt normal. Even though it still stunk like a sauna in a full dumpster, I left the porta-potty like Superman leaving a phone booth.
"Sorry about the autograph," Dad said. "I know how much it irritates you when we're trying to do something."
"I'm cool with it Dad. Really." I answered as if an adult inhabited my body.
We walked back to the main stage of the festival, I breathed in the wild sights. From the top of the trees where red and yellow crested flags melted in the hot air, down to the dusty, sun-cooked ground where Spanish knights on horseback mixed with souvenir booths and tee-peed storytellers, everywhere I looked I was transported to an unreal time and place.
Everything smelled old; a combination of leather, horse manure, and thick summer air mixed with occasional wafts of smoke and medieval cooking. The food vendors were equally strange. Some of the stuff I'd never heard of; potato balls stuffed with meat which I could only describe as grey, quail breast sandwiches -- they looked like chicken, egg custard crème puffs and the totally unbelievable, deep fried ice cream. My senses were spazzing out, and then as we found a place in the crowd, my head rattled once more. The velvet fort was gone. My shaky hand reached around my neck. I felt the blue mask for assurance that I wasn't still sleeping in my fluff filled bed, imagining the whole day.
"Where did you get that?" Dad noticed.
My flesh smoothed, "I picked it out while you were signing. Neat huh?" My answer came very calm and easy.
"Really? I didn't think you left my side."
"Hmm, did you have another triple J experience?" I tried to make a joke.
"It is pretty cool," he added. "It looks like something from Sundance. He went to reach for the blue mask and I quickly dug the pouch out of my pocket, stopping him short.
"Look," I started, "it comes with seven masks total. The saleslady said they're for different moods." I was relieved from saying anymore because drums started beating along with some sort of trumpets screaming at everyone to look at the stage.
"You know, maybe they can help you in your routine," Dad explained. "In Greek theatre, all actors were men, so they had to use masks to show the change in character or
mood. You can try and put one on for each character you pretend to be. I like that purple one, try that." Mini-lesson over, he turned his attention to the jester hollering on stage.
Cool and in control, I thought why not? The magic of the purple might fit in this environment. I tried to slide the leather string through its molded hook but it snagged on a hook gone bad. Even with that snag, as I slid it onto the leather string I was tingly all over; like a charge of electricity was crawling on my skin. I thought I'd just been pixel dusted. But my head was amazingly clear. I had been sure to pull off the blue one first, so I knew it was all due to the purple power magic.
Dad's focus stayed fixed on the jester opening the show; "He's pretty funny. You might learn something."
The jester wore the flashiest costume I'd seen so far; everything matched, hat, shirt, pants, and shoes were each split in two, half electric yellow the other neon-bright purple. He made the bells on his hat and shoes jingle by bouncing through the crowd. At the same time he waved equally blinding colored scarves over people and harassed them. With my coolness in the pouch, I got nervous as he moved closer.
"My what have we here?" the jester teased and flashed a fire red scarf in my face.
"We have someone with more magical powers than you!" I shot back. I surprised myself because I didn't know if I had any powers for real. Then, I remembered, the purple mask brought honesty too. I grabbed for my sunglasses but they fell to the dust. I wished I had kept the blue mask on.
The crowd laughed at my bravado.
"You learn fast," Dad whispered.
The jester stared me up and down like a bully sizing up his victim. Then, he saw the purple mask. His cold dark eyes narrowed, looking like two muddy mouths chomping down, "Give me that and I'll forgive your foolish attempt to show me up," he snapped.
Before I could react, he was trying to lift the mask from my chest… POOF… he vanished! Everyone, including Dad, thought it was part of the act. Afraid to open my mouth for what would come out, I just stood there firing anxious glances. The crowd roared with cheers. I stumbled backwards through them and the settling dirt. I couldn't even stop to avoid crushing the glasses that protected me so many times. I had to get this necklace off immediately.
"Hey Eli!" Dad hollered after me, "What's the matter? You're acting like you saw a ghost."
"I guess he did scare me," I answered, searching for words that weren't coming.
"Come on, he was just the opening act, the main show has started."
During the walk back my breath slowed from its stuttering bursts, I pulled the leather string off over my head. When we sat down I started to put it and the purple mask back into the pouch. Opening it up I noticed the yellow mask sitting on top of the others all sunny and happy, just like its promise. It's clear eyes showed through to the white mask underneath. I imagined them saying 'go ahead, you deserve to be happy.' So, I took out the yellow mask and thread it onto the leather string. Not a second later and my head hummed. Dizzy with silliness, giggles came from my mouth like a foreign language. Dad caught the giggle bug before long and we laughed our butts off the rest of the afternoon while exploring the fairgrounds. At one point Dad joined in a group of characters that were arguing in song! I was uncomfortable with that. Sure enough -- click. Someone started taking pictures. He was a magnet to the center of attention even when we were supposed to be observers.
"Hey Dad, let's go get some of that deep fried ice cream," I suggested. Aside from the occasional cigarette, eating and charming women were the only irresistible habits he had left.
"Find us a table E, I'm going to run to the porta john then I'll be back with the cream of ice dripping in french-fry grease."
"Hold your nose!" I wandered off on my mission laughing to myself, he can be such a goof ball; sometimes I forget he's my Dad.
I had noticed a couple of empty picnic tables back behind the Gargoyle Mimes. I wanted to watch those guys closer anyway, it was so cool the way they could sit there looking rock solid and then when an unsuspecting soul stopped to admire them as statues, their speckled grey stone bodies would scare the crap out of them by moving. That was some funny performing I thought I could handle.
I sat, twiddled the yellow mask between my fingers, they robotically picked at a raised bump by the hook. The whole motion was an automatic gesture, like I'd had this necklace and habit, forever. I was indeed happy, and pretty relaxed, I wondered to myself if this was what the gypsy meant when she said, 'I would know who I was by one of these.' Content, I watched the gargoyle closest to me -- I tried to guess who he'd pick next to spook. Then a blink of color way far in the distance caught my eye.
Beyond the food booths and souvenir stands, to the right of the jousting field and under a black fabric overhang I saw the gypsy woman that gave me the masks. Her fort wasn't in a new location. In fact I still didn't see it anywhere. She was stomping her feet and waving her arms. I strained my eyes to try and make out what she was up to. When from out of the shadow of the black fabric I saw a man step out. He was in a white tee shirt with his shoulder length hair all messed-up. He didn't seem to want to listen to her. It brought a glimpse of an ugly vision to the screen inside my forehead. It was one of Mom and Dad's really bad fights, I quickly shooed it away like a nasty fly, and kept my focus on the gypsy far, far away. It wasn't until the man she was arguing with walked into the sunlight that I noticed his electric purple and yellow pants and matching shoes. The gypsy was yelling at the jester still half in his costume. I didn't know what to make of this scene, but at least I knew she was real and I hadn't killed him.
"Good seats," Dad said, plopping the frozen fried concoctions down.
"Huh, oh yeah," I answered, coming back to reality. "I hope this is good, I'm starving."
"Have you had enough excitement for today?"
"Yeah, let's just watch a movie tonight or something." I was ready to put the wacko-world we were visiting behind me and let someone else's story take over for a while.
We got back to Dad's to find six messages on his answering machine, all surprising.
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