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CHAPTER XIX

They bundled Will in a thick gray blanket to protect him from the cold wind and opened the door of a big van for him. Inside the van he saw Bess, Diane, Sean and Howie, wrapped in blankets like his. It was warm inside when they shut the door. It felt good. There was no one else in the van to hear what they said.

"Is this . . . everybody?" Will asked.

"The others didn't come back with us," said Bess. "I guess they're lost in the fire."

Will could hear Howie sobbing.

"What did you think?" asked Sean. "Did you think we'd wake up like at the end of The Wizard of Oz, and find out it was all a dream?"

"I had hopes. My wounds went away."

No one said anything for a minute.

"What happened with you?" asked Diane.

Will explained about Randy's grand plan.

"So what?" asked Sean. "Is Hamlet destroyed now? I still remember it."

"No. Randy was wrong. Hamlet didn't need Randy to have his own universe. I saw him myself.

"Randy said it—a story is more powerful than almost anything there is. A little thing like Kyd's book couldn't destroy it."

"So what do they do there?" asked Sean. "Just do the play over and over again forever? Like the myth of Sisyphus or something?"

"I don't think so. I didn't get the impression anybody was bored with repetition. Just the opposite, in fact. I think it was what a theologian might call an 'eternal moment.' One event that's so large it fills a whole eternity. I think in a real sense I'm still there, with the players, and always will be." He smiled.

After a time a rescue worker got into the driver's seat and drove them to the hospital. They spent a couple hours being checked over, and then were taken to the police station, where they gave their reports. All the reports tallied. They'd agreed in the van what they should say.

It was after 4:00 a.m. when a deputy drove them back to the theater to get their cars and go home. As he approached his Cherokee in a borrowed parka, Will found Bess walking beside him.

"Where's the Kyd book now?" she asked.

"At my place. I'll destroy it if it's still there, but I'll bet it's not."

"Book-burning already? You're not wasting any time."

Will stopped and looked at her. "What does that mean?"

"You said you'd got Peter's religion."

"Well, yes I did."

"So I'm bitter. I get hurt when I lose a friend."

"I'm your friend."

"You've gone over to the other side. You're the enemy."

"I'm not your enemy. Neither was Peter. You never spoke badly of Peter."

"No. And I won't speak badly of you either. I respect you, and I'll go on casting you. But I choose my friends."

"I am your friend. I mean to be your friend."

"Don't knock yourself out." She walked away from him.

Will followed quickly. "You're not gonna pull this gay paranoia thing about how everyone who disagrees with you must hate you, are you? I thought you were bigger than that, Bess."

"Well, I'm not. Now just go to hell, will you?"

It was about 5:00 a.m. when Will got home. He let Abelard out (he went like a shot) and looked in the dresser drawer where he'd left the Kyd volume.

It was gone as if it had never been there.

Will nodded and made some instant cocoa. He'd take a personal day today. Soon it would be a reasonable hour to call people on the phone.

He looked up Ginnie's number. At worst he'd be able to ask forgiveness.

He was as afraid as he'd ever been, in any world.

Good.

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Framed

Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER XIX

They bundled Will in a thick gray blanket to protect him from the cold wind and opened the door of a big van for him. Inside the van he saw Bess, Diane, Sean and Howie, wrapped in blankets like his. It was warm inside when they shut the door. It felt good. There was no one else in the van to hear what they said.

"Is this . . . everybody?" Will asked.

"The others didn't come back with us," said Bess. "I guess they're lost in the fire."

Will could hear Howie sobbing.

"What did you think?" asked Sean. "Did you think we'd wake up like at the end of The Wizard of Oz, and find out it was all a dream?"

"I had hopes. My wounds went away."

No one said anything for a minute.

"What happened with you?" asked Diane.

Will explained about Randy's grand plan.

"So what?" asked Sean. "Is Hamlet destroyed now? I still remember it."

"No. Randy was wrong. Hamlet didn't need Randy to have his own universe. I saw him myself.

"Randy said it—a story is more powerful than almost anything there is. A little thing like Kyd's book couldn't destroy it."

"So what do they do there?" asked Sean. "Just do the play over and over again forever? Like the myth of Sisyphus or something?"

"I don't think so. I didn't get the impression anybody was bored with repetition. Just the opposite, in fact. I think it was what a theologian might call an 'eternal moment.' One event that's so large it fills a whole eternity. I think in a real sense I'm still there, with the players, and always will be." He smiled.

After a time a rescue worker got into the driver's seat and drove them to the hospital. They spent a couple hours being checked over, and then were taken to the police station, where they gave their reports. All the reports tallied. They'd agreed in the van what they should say.

It was after 4:00 a.m. when a deputy drove them back to the theater to get their cars and go home. As he approached his Cherokee in a borrowed parka, Will found Bess walking beside him.

"Where's the Kyd book now?" she asked.

"At my place. I'll destroy it if it's still there, but I'll bet it's not."

"Book-burning already? You're not wasting any time."

Will stopped and looked at her. "What does that mean?"

"You said you'd got Peter's religion."

"Well, yes I did."

"So I'm bitter. I get hurt when I lose a friend."

"I'm your friend."

"You've gone over to the other side. You're the enemy."

"I'm not your enemy. Neither was Peter. You never spoke badly of Peter."

"No. And I won't speak badly of you either. I respect you, and I'll go on casting you. But I choose my friends."

"I am your friend. I mean to be your friend."

"Don't knock yourself out." She walked away from him.

Will followed quickly. "You're not gonna pull this gay paranoia thing about how everyone who disagrees with you must hate you, are you? I thought you were bigger than that, Bess."

"Well, I'm not. Now just go to hell, will you?"

It was about 5:00 a.m. when Will got home. He let Abelard out (he went like a shot) and looked in the dresser drawer where he'd left the Kyd volume.

It was gone as if it had never been there.

Will nodded and made some instant cocoa. He'd take a personal day today. Soon it would be a reasonable hour to call people on the phone.

He looked up Ginnie's number. At worst he'd be able to ask forgiveness.

He was as afraid as he'd ever been, in any world.

Good.

Back | Next
Framed