Chapter Eleven

The Book Left in the Cupboard

Salinger

At first, I didn't know what was going on. I was standing in the middle of a long corridor and there were finely dressed people walking ahead of me and nicking me with their elbows.

One person said, “The show starts soon.”

The next one said, “We'll have to see if she went in already. Maybe she's already in her seat.”

I felt hopelessly out of place until I saw I was wearing a suit. No problem there. I checked my pocket. I had a ticket. It was an opera ticket. They were showing Tosca. I had never seen it. I rubbed the ticket between my fingers to see if there were two tickets and I was supposed to meet someone. The paper was solitary. I was alone.

I glanced over my shoulder to see where I had come from. There were doors, but they were thronged with ticket holders moving forward. I recognized that I was one of them and I had to move forward also. I walked with steadiness until the hallway broke open to an atrium. Outside the theater doors, was the coat check, the ticket counters, and a candy stand. I did a double-take. One side sold candy like we were about to enter a carnival and the other sold tall goblets with sparkling liquids. 

Checking my pocket again, I found that I had no wallet and no money.

I put myself in que to turn in my ticket and see the show. Despite all the people coming in behind me, I somehow managed to be the last in line. The lobby was emptying.

Then, I saw her.

At first, I didn't think the woman before me could be the girl I knew in real life. How could she be the same? This girl wore a dress the color of raspberry wine. The skirt was made up of hundreds of ruffles and the bodice was a mass of wondrous stitchery. It was her. The hair was the same. That same hair that was always enchanted in real life was still enchanted while a story unfurled around her. I wondered again who the author was and how did they know Veda to write about her with such detail?

She wasn't in line. She was coming out of a door marked, 'Staff Only.' I wondered for a moment if she was going to be performing that night. After all, in a book, she might very well have the part of Tosca herself. Instead of going back through the door, she weaved through the line of ticket holders next to me and then behind me, moving out of my grasp but leaving her scent behind her. It made my head swim.

I ditched my place in line and followed her.

She disappeared behind another door, and when I finally caught up to her, she was already at the end of the hallway. The area looked like the offices of the people who ran the theater. She tried three doorways before one of them gave way to her and she disappeared inside.

I went for it, too, but by the time I got there, the room behind the door was empty. There were doors everywhere. When I tried them, all of them were locked. No amount of banging on them did anything.

In the end, I returned to the lobby.

The lines were gone and when I went to speak to the ticket master, I saw that he was not a real person at all, but a robot made of aluminum. He had black camera lenses for eyes and only one leg that made him the right height for the people he collected tickets from.

“So sorry, sir,” the robot said, opening his shining jaw once to show speech but not moving it up and down to match his words. His accent was cultured, like a search engine. “The opera is closed for the evening. The performance is over and all the guests have gone.”

I stared at the machine. There had to be a malfunction. “How is that possible? I'm only two minutes late.” I looked at my watch. It said ten o'clock. I looked at my ticket. It said seven.

“So sorry, sir. The opera is closed for the evening.” The machine's camera lenses closed and his head slumped to the side. He looked like a zero instead of a one.

I knocked him on the side of the head with my knuckles, but nothing happened. Glancing around, the place was as deserted as a horror movie. I stood there stupidly for a few minutes trying to figure out what to do. Finally, I decided to check the robot in front of me for a power switch. I got in the booth with him and lifted the back of his coat to find the button. That was when Veda returned to the lobby.

She swept up to the concession and bought herself an enormous ball of cotton candy on a stick. I abandoned the mechanical ticketmaster and joined her. Unlike me, she had money in a little black sequined purse.

I had been about to say, 'Hi Veda,' when I checked myself. Whatever book I was reading, I bet my character would not have much success addressing her like that. I opted for a classy, “Good evening,” and brushed her bare elbow with my fingertips. Unobtrusive, but still physical contact. Smooth.

Her eyes were enormous with curiosity when she turned to face me. “Good evening to you, Mr.?” She paused to let me fill in the blank. She didn't know me in this world.

There was a moment where I struggled to know what I ought to say to her. It was a fake world so technically, I could answer, 'Bond,' and her character would call me Mr. Bond for the rest of the book, but my mind revolted against the idea. Her beautiful red lips were parted, waiting for my response. Why on earth would I want her to say a name that wasn't mine?

“I'm Salinger Meriwa. Don't you remember me?”

She blushed mildly and looked at the floor. “You're confused if you think you've met me before. This isn't exactly my normal hangout.”

“Why are you here tonight instead of where you usually play?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Big plans. Have you seen a girl wearing a green dress?”

I scoffed. “I haven't seen anyone, but you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Stop it. I'm talking about a real girl. She has green eyes and a green dress. I came with her tonight. Have you seen her? Her name is Vanya. I’m trying to set her up with the owner. His name is Darnell Wickmore.”

I stared at her. For some reason, that did not strike me as a hobby of the Veda I knew. She was not the kind of girl who would indulge in a figurative tug-of-war, but for her to take on the role of matchmaker struck me as one hundred percent weird. “Why?” I asked her, my voice surprisingly loud.

“What do you mean?” she giggled.

Veda was giggling. It was so uncharacteristic of her that it seemed like something undeniably bad was about to happen. Then she touched my elbow. I almost jumped.

“My friend Vanya is a very good person. She has wonderful taste in books and I have never seen her watch a stupid movie. She is careful with her money and her grades in university make grown women weep. She deserves a good man, but she doesn't exactly have the confidence to date on her own.”

“Why?”

“I'm not sure,” she said absently, tearing the cotton candy. “I never really thought about it.”

“And why do you think this man, Darnell, is the best match for her?”

She shrugged her beautiful shoulders. “There aren't that many men to choose from who have reasonable credentials. For instance, did you know this theater is not a public place? This is his own house. We're in the north wing. His house is supposed to have all kinds of amusements for the winter months, so he has a house with a theater for opera or ballet. He also has a ballroom and--”

I cut her off. “I get it. He's rich.”

“It's not just that he's rich,” she retorted quickly. “I don't know that many men, but I know even fewer who are long time friends of the family.”

It started to make sense to me. This was exactly who Veda was and I just hadn't seen it before. At that moment, I realized that Pearl and Antony was not something that just happened. It happened because Veda made it happen. I started to wonder if Darnell was Antony.

She suddenly dropped her cotton candy in a garbage can like it hadn't interested her in the first place. A squat door spontaneously opened and an enormous automated stuffed animal rolled through it. Veda stepped aside and held the door open for its long body to emerge. It was brown and rough like a sack of potatoes. It took a second for me to figure out what it was supposed to be. It was a sea cow. It was on its stomach. As it came out of the room, I saw its fan-like tail sweeping up behind it.

Veda did not seem alarmed or surprised, even though the thing came up to her waist. When there was enough room for her to pass by, she bent and slipped in the door behind it. It was a kitchen and the little candy counter was a small extension of it. I saw deep frying vats and rows of waffle irons. There were clusters of burners so twenty chefs could all work at the same time. And, of course, there were many other doors.

Veda didn't seem to know which one to choose and she stood examining them with her fingers on her chin.

I went to open one when she pulled me back.

“Salinger, wait. I'm pretty sure one of these doors opens the door to the main dining room and the other opens the door to the indoor pool. We can't choose the pool. There is no reason for us to be in the pool area, though we would be able to explain the dining room.”

“Why can't we just open them both up and then pick the right one?”

“I'm not sure. I just know that if we choose wrong, we'll get hopelessly lost. The next thing you know, we'll be on an island owned by scientists with tubes in our arms.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Why would that happen? I thought you said this guy, Darnell, was a good guy.”

“I did not say he was a good guy. If anything, I said he was better than the other men I know. That does not make him a good person. Besides, why are you thinking about that now? I'm busy. I have to figure out which of these two doors has more wear and tear on it. Which one do you think? The left?”

I glanced at her. “You don't have a very high opinion of men in general, do you?”

She looked at me like I was incredibly stupid. “Why are you making me reconsider setting my friend up with him? I was planning on introducing him to Vanya tonight, but since I don't know him very well, I guess it's better to meet him myself before I make up my mind.” She tapped her foot impatiently. She was waiting for me to answer her first question.

“I also think it's the left.”