Waking Rose: A Fairy Tale Retold (11 page)

“At home? Are you sure?”

“Bear and I are looking into it. Because of my medical history, I might not be able to. But we’ll see,” Blanche said. “Say a prayer for me, okay?”

“Okay. Blanche, I am so, so, so excited.”

“Same here. And Bear sends his love, as usual.”

H
IS

Fish found himself thinking again about the “Eve of St. Agnes” as he drove to Meyerstown and Mercy College for the medieval festival. Funny how the Middle Ages continued to inspire people. Keats tried to recreate it in the early 1800’s. And here was a Catholic college doing the same thing today. Almost a fundamental human impulse in the modern age. Why was that?

As Fish walked down the sidewalk at Mercy College to the Student Commons where the medieval festival was being held, he noticed several passersby in costume—one dressed as a jester and strumming a guitar, several gowned ladies, and a nun in brown sackcloth with a full flowing veil. After he passed the last one, he found himself wondering if it was a costume or real religious garb. Mercy College was a Catholic school, after all.

When he reached the Commons, he found a throng of students, professors, and children all dressed in colorful medieval clothing. He felt a bit drab and out of place in his black pants and dark shirt. He wandered around aimlessly when suddenly he caught sight of Rose. She was carrying her violin and wearing a gypsy outfit, with a full red skirt, white shirt and multi-colored headscarf. As she ran over to him he noticed she had bare feet—in October!—and jingle bells on her ankles.

“Fish!” she exclaimed. “There you are! You missed our songs—I was playing violin with some other students who had a gypsy band and we just finished our last set. But I’m so glad you could make it.”

“It was a nice drive out,” Fish said, putting his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “Sorry I missed your violin playing. I always enjoy it. Nice costume.”

“Thanks. I hope you don’t feel out of place. Why don’t you come over and meet the gypsy band? We could loan you a cape.”

“Uh, no thanks.”

“Well, they seem to have scattered already—There’s Kateri! Hi roomie!”  Rose waved excitedly. “Come over here!” To Fish she asked, “Do you remember Kateri from the wedding?”

“I don’t know,” Fish was saying, as a girl in a long shining satin green gown and flower wreath bustled over to them, holding up her skirts to come faster. Her feet were also bare. (What was it with girls and bare feet?)   She had long, thick black hair and thin braids wrapped in gaily colored thread, and Asian eyes with a round tan face.

He put out his hand. “Benedict Denniston.”

She shook it, giving him a hard handshake, but her keen black eyes were laughing. “Kateri Kovach,” she said. “But I’ve met you before, Fish. I was a bridesmaid at Blanche’s wedding.”

“Oh,” he was confused. “You were?” He didn’t remember anyone with long thread-wrapped braids at the wedding.

“I had my hair up,” she said, guessing his thoughts and shaking her mane. “People always say they don’t recognize me when I dress up. Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Fish paused. “By any chance, you wouldn’t happen to be leading any protests around here?”

Her eyes sparked. “My reputation precedes me,” she said, folding her arms. “Yes, I do a bit of that. Sort of in the family tradition.”

He shook his head at her. “I’d be careful, if I were you.” He told her about meeting Dr. Prosser and the conversation at the French restaurant.

“Wow,” said Rose. “They did a background check on you, Kateri.” She seemed impressed.

Kateri shrugged. “I should have expected that. They did the same with my brothers and sister. It goes with the territory, being an outlaw.” She grinned at Fish mischievously. “My older brothers held sit-ins at abortion clinics and spent a couple of years in jail. I’ve barely done anything at that level. All I do is go downtown with a few signs and a few friends, and tell the truth. Not much to that.”  She jostled him. “You should come down with us some time. Rose here would go but she always has play practice.”

“I did go once,” Rose said loyally.

“What exactly is going on down there?” Fish asked.

“They do abortions, even partial-birth and full-term abortions, when the baby could be born with no problem,” Kateri said, crossing her arms and looking serious for the first time. “They’ll encourage women to abort their babies if there’s a chance the baby might be handicapped. I’ve even heard reports that they euthanize homeless people who are taken to their emergency room. They seem to have no respect for human life—it’s merely a commodity.”

 “Are you sure that’s true, about the euthanasia?” Fish asked dubiously.

Kateri nodded. “Sure as I can be. I’ve talked to former workers there, but none of them want to go on the record. This Prosser lady is the director. I’ve had a run-in or two with her before. A very cold fish, sorry for the pun.”

“I hope you’re not planning on bombing the hospital or anything,” Fish said. “They certainly seem to think you will.”

Kateri frowned. “They’re fantasizing because we make them scared. They have to give themselves something material to be afraid of. But what they’re afraid of is the truth. No, I’m never going to give them the satisfaction of returning their violence with violence. That’s not our way.”  She looked at Fish seriously. “You can’t stop this kind of evil with guns and bombs. What we do is public, nonviolent protest to keep speaking the truth.”  She tossed her hair back with her hands, and Fish noticed it took both her hands to do it. “Like I said, come down and see sometime.”

“Maybe,” he admitted.

She stretched. “I’m going to go do some folk dancing. Rose, you going to come?”

“In a minute,” Rose said, quickly glancing at Fish, who tried to make himself look like the sort of person who didn’t do folk dancing.

Kateri waved and strode off, her green dress glinting in the October sunlight. Some flowers were falling out of her wreath and the petals blew away as she walked, scattered to the wind.

“So that’s Kateri,” he said. “I guess I didn’t remember her from the wedding.”

“I don’t see how you could have. All the Kovachs were there. She’s number ten of eleven. They’re a really wild family. I dearly love them all. Her brother Adam was my hero for the longest time. I thought I was going to marry him when I grew up, but he’s already married, with about three kids.” She sighed. “The Kovachs are fascinating. Do you know who I think they really are?”

“Who?” Fish asked, half-smiling. He knew Rose was going to tell him.

“Outlaws, in the grand tradition of Robin Hood. For one thing, they have almost no money, but you’d never know it. And they hunt, and trap, and raise chickens, and make almost everything they need, or they grow it. And it’s true that her older brothers used to lead protests and get arrested when they were at Mercy College. Only back then it was abortion clinics—they’ve been shut down now. The Kovachs are all tremendous readers and thinkers, and really sharp about politics and issues and things like that. Kateri has more courage than any other girl I know. She’s been my best friend and Blanche’s for as long as I can remember. We used to live down the street from them when we had our farm in New Jersey. And that’s one big reason I decided to come to Mercy College, because this is where the Kovachs all went. But most of them didn’t finish school. They ran out of money, or they got married, or spent too much time in jail. Kateri will probably end up that way too. She just has too much energy and fire to stay at school.”

“Hmm,” Fish said. “I hope she’s careful.”

“Oh, she is. She’s a Kovach. No one can outwit a Kovach. They’re all foxes,” Rose said confidently. “Let me go and stash my violin and then I’ll show you around.”

They walked around the Commons together, looking at the different sights. Music of drums and pipes played in the background. Professors in medieval garb—some wearing their academic robes—sat around tables with students drinking ale and talking. Children with cardboard shields and wooden swords and capes dashed around shouting playfully. Some girls in gowns with wreaths on their heads danced in a big circle.

Fish noticed several guys in black doing sword work in the soccer field. Rose glanced at him and noticed where his attention was. “Oh, I
have
to introduce you to the Cor guys. They’re like the campus knights.”

“How about we get some food?” he said, a bit stiffly.

“Okay,” she glanced at him, surprised. He couldn’t really explain his reaction to himself, let alone to her.

They had some food, and watched the living chess match. As the game ended, the music struck up again and the players and audience began spontaneously dancing a kind of modified Virginia reel. Fish saw Kateri dancing with a boy in a monk’s costume.

Rose touched his arm and he glanced at her.

“Would you dance with me?” she asked timidly, looking up at him.

She was always asking for something from him. He looked at her. Her grey-green eyes were a bit wistful. Funny how her eyes changed colors, almost with her moods. When he had first seen her about an hour ago, he could have sworn her eyes were blue.

“For old time’s sake?” she asked.

“All right,” he said.

He took her hands and twirled her slowly to the music. She turned back to face him, and took his hands with a serious expression that made him smile. He led her into a promenade with the other dancers.

“How’s the play going?” he asked by way of making conversation.

“Fine,” she said, but her face was worried. Gray eyes.

“Do you like the part?” he queried.

“I do, and the director is great, but I’m not getting along so well with some of the other cast members,” she confessed, speaking quietly. He noticed she glanced around as she spoke. He supposed that perhaps some of them were nearby in the costumed crowd.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I have a hard time connecting with the guy who plays Lear. He’s not that great, not at this point. Plus, well, I think he likes me, and that’s distracting. He’s nice, but I don’t like him, if you know what I mean.”  She looked up at him as he twirled her again and her red skirt flared out around her.

“That must be difficult,” he said.

“It is. But the worst part is Goneril and Regan—the girls who play them, I mean. The one girl, Donna, just doesn’t like me. Oh, sometimes she’s very nice, and I try to be nice back, but it’s sort of a sugar-coated meanness. Same with Tara, her friend, who’s playing Regan.  And, well, I just want to do the play. I’m not trying to antagonize them, but the director chose
me
to play Cordelia. It’s just difficult.”

“Sounds like it,” he was concerned. “You mean this is the same Donna who wanted the part of Cordelia?”

“Yes, that’s her. She’s Goneril. She does a wonderful job. I keep telling her that whenever I get a chance, but she just stares coldly at me.”

“Is she around here?” Fish asked, noticing that Rose kept glancing over her shoulder.

“As a matter of fact, she was—she and Tara—wait, they’re over there.”  Rose indicated with a nod of her head a corner of the courtyard. Fish saw two girls dressed in medieval gowns that had a bit of a lower cut than most of the other girls. One was a tall striking blond. The other was shorter, heavy-set, and was smoking. The blond looked in their direction, and Fish didn’t care for her expression.

“Strange lady,” he said as he turned away from them.

“I think she’s had a rough life,” Rose confided. “So it’s not all her fault.”  Her gaze brightened and her eyes were green again. “Look! There’s Dr. Dawson! He’s one of my favorite professors. Do you mind meeting him?”

“No, not at all,” he said, trying to be affable.

Dr. Dawson was a thin man with glasses and gray hair and a courtly grace. He shook Fish’s hand warmly and was most interested to hear he was doing his doctorate work at the university.

“That’s where I did my masters,” he said. “Do you know Dr. Anschlung?”

“She’s my boss. I’m her assistant.”

“Wonderful woman. Very, very brilliant. She was my director. You couldn’t do better. Why don’t you and Rose join us at our table? This is my wife Gianna and our children.”

Fish found himself introduced to a smiling blond woman and an assortment of children. The Dawsons had brought a picnic lunch and were happy to share. It was clear from Rose’s talking with the children that she was a familiar figure with the family. Fish found out she had babysat for the Dawson children on a few occasions.

“Rose tells the best stories,” one little boy with tousled black hair informed him.

They spent the rest of the time with the Dawson family, and Fish noticed other professors and their families sharing their meals with the students as well. The head of the school, a priest, Father Corrigan, got up and gave a spirited address in medieval style about the day and about the school. Everyone cheered and booed at the appropriate places. Fish, observing from his place beside Rose, sensed a markedly different atmosphere from the anonymous collegiality one found at his university. Certainly not all the students were “into” the festival—he saw some of the students on the outskirts standing aloof and bored as any world-weary teenager. But most of them seemed to be joining in the fun with alacrity.  Rose certainly was.

Driving home, he reflected that the day had been relaxing and fairly uneventful. Aside from wanting to dance with him, Rose had treated him with the most platonic attitude possible, and he was mildly surprised that she seemed to be taking his advice about going on with her life.
I shouldn’t be so suspicious of her motives,
he chastised himself. He had told Rose that he would continue to be friends with her. She was showing him that she was capable of it. He supposed he should return the favor.

6
…but before the third of the wise women could speak her gift, there was a clamor and another came in…