A Clumsily Romantic Frond, with Haiku

 This awkward urban romance appears in the middle of my short story collection, "Fronds". The title keeps with Andre's fluster by being a groaner of a pun, but the truth is I didn't invent this title. I entered a contest to write something based on the electronica album "Wayward and Upward" by Spinoza Gambit, and "Prodigal Moon" was the title of one of the songs. Unfortunately the story was disqualified because I'd written about all of the songs: Andre's haiku near the beginning states the name of the album and the artist; Kim's haiku contain the names of all of the songs in order.

Note: this is set in a mythical Seattle. As far as I know, there is no Emerald Biotech (or Emerald Street, for that matter), Skyward Park, or Max Coffee and Espresso. At least in the real Seattle.

Prodigal Moon 

Star Welcomes You Home

The air was bright with morning when the lone rental sports coup drove along the highway to the city park. Reaching a widened spot on the road, the car pulled over and stopped. A thirtyish man in a blue puffy ski jacket climbed out. He scanned the horizon. He reached back in the car and pulled out binoculars and a map, and stared at the map for a minute or two. This should be the place. He gazed through the binoculars, pointing them vaguely southwest. The city skyline was visible as an outline against clouds. He turned the binoculars slightly east of it. Yes, there across a valley, was the cliff he was looking for. And yes, there were the rocks. The illusion would be even more pronounced in the evening, when the light would be different. He made a quick mental assessment of his surroundings, got back into the car, and drove away. Electrosymphonic music issued from the car.

On the city streets at the bottom of the hill, the car parked in the lot by the modernist high-tech glass and steel monolith that was 401 Emerald Street; home of Emerald Biotech and the only five-story building in this vintage and low-slung neighborhood. The lone occupant climbed out again; crossed the avenue to a street-level bookstore and lurked among its shelves for an hour or two, then ate a turkey sandwich next door at Max Coffee and Espresso. He wandered the streets for another hour, glancing at his watch like a nervous twitch. He scanned the shop windows, wandered into a grocery store for a few minutes and bought a chocolate bar which he promptly ate.

Back in his car with the electrosymphony wafting jazzy colors of piano sound and unexpected synthesizer splashes, he waited. He glanced at the stereo display: the song “Prodigal Moon”; the album “Wayward and Upward” by Spinoza Gambit. Unbidden, his old haiku came to mind:

 

Take the Spinoza gambit:

God is, or is in, the all?

Wayward and Upward.

 

It wasn’t really that good of a haiku, he thought; he’d composed it in his college Philosophy 101 class, too many years ago; wondering whether or not Spinoza’s pseudo-pantheism had anything to do with reality. Back then he’d called it a gambit, a game; today he would play another game, and may the result be a win for two people. In that sense it wasn’t a game at all. He would not prove or disprove the nature of God, but he would at least attempt to proceed upward. He had already gone wayward.

An hour passed. It was four o-clock now, and the CD had restarted with the first song. People were leaving from the building; those in uncomfortable-looking corporate executive suits, and those scruffier denizens who were probably scientists. And then, there she was, in her inimitable style of slacks mismatched with an oversized pink sweater.

He got out of the car and stood next to it, “Hi, Kim.”

She glanced his direction, “Andre!” She gave a wide grin and the laser-like intensity of her eyes caught him by surprise. He almost flinched. Then that light faded; her mouth assumed an unreadable expression and she cast her eyes downward. She approached him, not looking, her soft voice intoning her own haiku.

 

Shy prodigal moon

Absent from dark autumn skies

A star welcomes you.

 

Andre had always enjoyed that in her; her ability to express her thoughts by poetry she made up on the spot, and her haiku were definitely better than his. He chuckled; she’d referred to his reappearance and to the music still wafting from the car.

His mouth began to spew words, quicker than he wished. “I came back from Japan. I got an email from Tony. He told me… I went AWOL, as they say in the army. Absent without leave. Not that I was in the army in Japan. I wasn’t. Anyway, like the moon in your poem, I just disappeared. No, that’s not really true; I told the other teacher that I’d be gone for a week. I’ve been back in Seattle since yesterday. Tokuyama is really beautiful; you should see it sometime. It’s right on the Inland Sea…”

She placed her finger over his lips, “Shhh.” She gave him a stiff hug and withdrew her arms from him. Then,

 

Beneath law and town

The Underground United

Seeks unfolding truth.

 

He gave a puzzled sigh. That one was difficult to interpret. Was the Underground some organization? Did she belong to it? Did he, without knowing? What truth were they looking for?

Kim laughed. Her eyes met his for a second, then she stared at his car. She admired the painted flames on the trim, then frowned.

“I rented it,” he commented, “Because I have something to show you.” His mouth started streaming again. “Yes, it’s a rental. I don’t know much about sports cars and I didn’t even know if this one is worth the price, though they cut the price because it’s what they happened to have at the time. I decided that anything is probably worth the price anyway. We should go because like I said I have to show you something. What time do you have to get home? Is Howie with you now? I don’t want to keep you from him, or have my presence look suspicious.”

Their eyes met for a brief interval as she motioned for him to be quiet again. This time he turned away. There was too much expression there. Kim stared at him longer, then opened the passenger door and ducked into the low-slung car. One of Andre’s eyebrows arched; he had thought that he’d have to persuade her to take the drive with him. He smiled.

As Andre turned the key in the ignition and the engine revved, Kim did not look at him; she merely fastened her seatbelt as she tapped her foot to the music and ran her hand across the smooth leather seat. Her voice harmonized with the music:

 

Art and artifice

Not tree or ocean or sky

Minerva revealed.

 

Andre drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they exited the parking lot. Minerva? Kim had never made mythological references before. Goddess of strategic warfare, justice, law, victory, and the sponsor of arts and strategy; all the products of humans, but Kim was fonder of nature than of manmade ephemera (though she’d always liked music). He turned and glanced at her. Again, she avoided his eyes. Was she protesting the car? Probably, he decided, and it would be his fault; she had never been a fan of anything upgraded or fancy.

“It was a rental, and they didn’t have anything else,” he repeated, “But I see your point. It is a bit overdone.” Kim sat back in her seat, seeming to relax. The music transitioned to the next song.

Andre said, “We’re going to Skyward Park. Have you been there? It’s up on the hill above Emerald Biotech. Not many know about it, I don’t think; I only found it when I happened to click on the satellite views of this part of town while I was in Tokuyama. And I had to show it to you.”

Andre asked a question as a stoplight changed to green and he accelerated, “Who are the Underground United?”

Kim’s eyes clouded over. She pointed to him, and then to herself. She gave one-half of a smile; one corner of her lips turning up (no lipstick, Andre now realized) and the other still downturned. Then she stifled a laugh, and tapped on the stereo display with her finger (no nail polish). The song was “Underground United.”

The stoplight turned green and Andre resumed driving. Kim was silent for a couple of minutes, then abruptly:

 

Bring it on, those words:

Boulders careening downhill

Grass poking through stone.

 

Andre squinted his eyes at her. Then his jaw loosened as he began to understand, “Ah, you’re speaking only in haiku and riddles today... I get it now. You want me to speak plainly, myself. I haven’t done so, before.”

She nodded, her eyes now fixed on him.

“Well, then, I have to spill my guts.” He saw a parking lot by a small grocery store, and pulled over. “I disappeared from my work — took an unplanned vacation — because of that email from Tony. He told me about you and Howie. I couldn’t bear to stay there knowing that. I couldn’t just email you. How long has it been? We’ve known each other since we were kids. I introduced you to Tony’s sci-fi game and we played that every Monday, sophomore year in college. Oh, I’m being stupid; you know all that and I’m just mansplaining. But then, there was that one night, that cursed night! We drifted apart after arguing in that food court. Do you even remember what the fight was about?”

Kim continued to stare at him. Her expression was unreadable, though there seemed to be a little moisture under both of her eyes.

 

Shakedown in Uptown

Boom and crash of guns and bombs

Silence between us.

 

The songs form the CD were becoming more upbeat and aggressive; metal-ish guitar had drifted by followed by roaring synthesizer. Andre ignored them and focused on Kim’s poems. “Yeah, the argument was a lot of noise, and then there was a lot of noise those couple of years while I lived in that nasty apartment with those three other guys. I partied a lot with them, used up all my money. I was too young and hadn’t earned much then. Too much noise. Too much drinking. Too many police sirens outside. …But I didn’t see you. Things had moved on. And then I got that job teaching in Japan. I thought it was a great opportunity. Oh, I’m talking too much about things you already know. I met Emiko and we had a good time in Tokuyama. Then Tony emailed me about you and Howie. I should tell you; I will not stand in your way. If you’re engaged to Howie Finkbeiner, then, that is your choice. But I had to come back to see you one more time.”

Kim turned away, stared out the window. Andre continued thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel, adding a counter-beat to a looping filigree of synthesizer notes. The song was “Shakedown in Uptown”. He sped back onto the road. There were fewer cars now, on the ascent toward the hilltop park. Here, it was mostly old houses that lined the street, perhaps once grand but now oversized shacks of dingy paint and cracked siding. Then the road curved abruptly upward and climbed toward the ridge. In another minute or two, the houses were left behind, and trees displayed their autumn oranges and reds on either side.

Kim was humming along to the music. Her face showed concentration; she had turned inward. In a small voice, she almost whimpered.

 

Four-zero-one rush

Middle finger at the sky

Em’rald street tower.

 

Andre shot her a frown, “I thought you liked working at Emerald,” he commented. “I know what you’re all working on in there; I looked it up. Antibodies engineered to attack cancer cells. I would think that’s a worthy project. Of course, you’re still working on your PhD so you’re not actually…”

His words trailed off. The road had levelled. The wide spot was on the left. He pulled over, “We’re here.” He shut off the engine.

Kim opened the door, stepped out of the car without speaking. Andre followed, standing about six feet away from her with his arms stiff at his sides. Both stared out across the valley. The air was cold but not uncomfortable, with a fall scent of pine and maple. The nearby trees trembled slightly in an unfelt breeze, their vibrant orange in contrast to the sharp green of fir and cedar. Farther away, similar trees lined the hill downward; at the bottom of the hill there were a few scattered lights from houses. Kim gazed to the west where the city skyline stuck up like a ridge of jagged, irregular teeth against the carrot-orange light of the setting sun. One of the nearer and shorter towers down there housed Emerald Biotech, but that was not particularly important now. Andre handed Kim his binoculars.

He debated for a second whether to tell her which direction to look. It should be obvious, once she spotted it, but not until then.

Kim was scanning the horizon, pointing the binoculars at the skyline at first, though not near the sun; then she turned southward to the valley itself. She gave a sudden whoop and her mouth dropped open. She pointed the binoculars back to the skyline, then again to the valley. She had perceived it for sure. Andre smiled, “It’s been there all along, but we’ve never seen it,” he commented.

Now he gazed at it himself. He could just make it out without the binoculars. The skyline formed a rectilinear abstract pattern against the sky, and there, made of rocks and boulders on a cliff rearing up from the far side of the valley, framed by two tall fir trees and seemingly just above the farthest house, was the exact same pattern of rectangles. The orange rays of the sun further accented its outline, casting bright lines that almost seemed to glow with neon intensity, or with the same light that Andre would swear he had seen in Kim’s eyes. This was nothing artificial; it was not made by some artist trying to copy the skyline with a monumental sculpture; it was merely rocks on the cliff face (no one would ever build anything up there) but the resemblance was uncanny. Kim said:

 

Bright neon skyline

Echoed in sunset and stone

Twins: nature and art.

 

“And two things alike have been there all along,” Andre repeated, almost to himself, “Though we’ve never noticed them.”

Kim returned the binoculars to him. She faced him, her eyes wet (losing some of their laser-like concentration), her face drawn into a loose frown. She mumbled as she ducked back into the car, another haiku.

 

Truth was there to see

But now is too late: we are

Waywardly mobile.

 

Andre stood there for another minute, his gaze fixed on the cliff face, but his thoughts elsewhere. Kim had understood the implications of his statement, and her reaction was to be expected. But in which direction? He inhaled the autumn scents, held his breath for a few seconds, and let it go. He got back into the car himself and turned on the engine. The electronic music sounded again, and he turned down the volume a little.

“So this is it, then?” he asked as he drove away, beginning the descent back down the hill. Her eyes remained on him through the return journey, seemingly watching his every expression and movement. A tear streaked on of her cheeks.

His mouth began spewing words again. “So you saw it. I thought you would. I don’t know how many people have noticed it. I never have, but I should have. I should have long ago. It’s art, of course. Nature’s art expresses more than human art. Those rocks will be there longer than the skyline, I suppose, unless someone deliberately removes them. They’ll be there as you go your way, waywardly mobile as you say, to meet with Howie Finkbeiner, maybe tonight, and I return to Japan; I have my ticket for the day after tomorrow if they’ll hire me back after I left so abruptly…”

She placed her finger over her mouth, again, the signal for him to be quiet. Her moist eyes managed a momentary light, and her lips a slight smile. Then both expressions were gone as her thoughts turned private again.

They drove along the highway, back to the house-lined street, and then to the towers and monoliths of the corporate parts of town. Emerald Street was there, and then, 401 Emerald Street: Emerald Biotech. He parked in the lot next to an old beige Volkswagen utility Beetle.

She did not get out of the car. She remained in her seat, almost as if she had become part of the car herself, immobile, her face blank but for streaks of moisture.

 

Tonight will be sad

We will walk on other roads

Even as night lifts.

 

Andre pounded his fists on the steering wheel, “Oh, I can’t stand this anymore! We both know why I’m here! We both know it wasn’t just to show you those stupid rocks!” He turned to face her, and their eyes locked. Her face showed expectation now, and a sadness borne of loss, and a resolution about whatever was in store.

“Marry me, Kim.” Andre uttered the words. His eyes continued to bore into her as she looked away. The last song on the album intoned a sad melody as no words flowed between them for at least a minute.

Andre looked away, “Yeah, I know. You’re engaged to Howie Finkbeiner. That’s how it is. And here is where we part. I will return to Japan. I don’t know after that. May your life here be happy. I wish you all the best. That sounds like a cliché, like a platitude, but it’s not. I mean it. I hope Howie can love you as deeply…”

She put her finger to her lips for the last time, then near his. Her eyes met his for one more instant, and then she was out of the car and standing beside it in the fading light. She turned to walk away, intoning three more, almost inaudible lines.

 

Sad, this departure

shapes twinned but paths diverging.

I choose the unknown way.

 

She opened the door of Andre’s rental car and leaned in, “You went wayward. Let’s both go upward. My answer is yes, Andre.” They embraced, their motions fluid as their bodies finally touched.

 

Kim and Andre appear in another story in "Fronds", and also in my experimental novel "Ussers and the Echo of Nothing."