Uncle Arber's Hat, Part II

Part Two

When he arrived home, David intended to fix himself something to eat and prep for Monday’s meeting with the VP of Engineering.  Unfortunately, he made the mistake of carting the boxes up to his apartment.  I’ll just check out a few things, he told himself.  

Three hours later, shaky with hunger, his mind was spinning.  He surveyed the various piles that filled the living room of his apartment.  The whole thing was, Garth’s pejorative notwithstanding, weird.  It felt like an elaborate joke, but why?  And to what purpose?  The papers, the journals and letters.  The strange, obviously handmade tools.  All of it had lain in that garage for twenty years.  Who was the joke intended for?  Only the puzzles were what they seemed.  

Even the hat…  He’d been wearing it all evening.  Besides reminding him of his great uncle, the hat felt oddly familiar.  Like an old friend.  But how could that be?

He rummaged in his kitchen for something quick that’d get his blood sugar out of the basement, settling at last on a spoonful of peanut butter.  He needed another set of eyes to look this over.  Ideally, someone with a clear head to go with those eyes.  And an open mind.

David scrolled through his contacts.  Paul Reynolds would be good.  Paul worked for a contemporary news magazine.  He covered the arts, mostly, with emphasis on performing arts, but Paul was first and foremost a journalist, with a journalist’s sensibilities.  David thumbed the number. 

“Paul Reynolds.”

“Paul.  David Dellarosa here.  You have a minute?”

“Yeah, just about that much time.  I’ve got a deadline.”

“Oh… Okay, sorry.  Maybe I should call back.  Or try somebody else.”

“What’s wrong?  You sound strange.”

“Long story.  Short version is I’ve gotten ahold of a bunch of stuff — journals and letters, mostly, but there are some other things too.  It all belonged to an elderly relative.  A great uncle.”

“Hmmm...  And?”

“Well.  I don’t know how to say this, exactly, but the written materials are… well..”

“Spit it out, David.”

“Well, you’re going to think I’m crazy, but.  Oh, hell.  Man, the stuff is weird.  Seriously weird.”

“That’s pretty vague.  Weird how?  Was the guy a nutcase?”

“No.  Anything but.”

“Well, how old was he?  Sometimes people get…”

“Huh-uh.  He always seemed completely lucid.  Mysterious, maybe, but not like that.”

“Give me something to work with, David.”

“Crap.  Okay.  The stuff seems, well… occult?  Sort of like magic, I guess.”

There was a long silence.  When Reynolds spoke again, his voice sounded remote.  Chilly, even.  “That’s not my thing.  Not my thing at all.  Listen.  I really have to get back to work.  I’ll talk to you soon.  We’ll get together over beers or something.”

The call ended.  David stared at his phone.  “That went well,” he muttered.

His second try was Corey Turner, a musician buddy.  Corey was a good guy, but David had some anxiety about relying on him.  Corey was frequently on the road.  He lived a hard life, and he smoked a fair amount of weed.  When he was clear-headed, he was smart and funny, but sometimes…  David’s call rang into voicemail.  He started to leave a message but decided he’d better look elsewhere.  Who else?

He almost called his ex-girlfriend, Margaret Applegate, but decided against it.  While their break-up had been relatively cordial, she was prone to read things into their subsequent interactions.  He didn’t feel up to a stroll through an eggshell-laden landscape.  More to the point, Margaret detested anything mysterious.  And in her mind, “mysterious” covered a lot of territory.  Their relationship troubles had begun when she found out he’d studied advanced math.  Chances are she’d react similarly to Paul Reynolds only more so.

And the effects of that spoonful of peanut butter were fading fast.  He needed to eat something real.  David was looking for his keys when his phone rang.  He stared at the name.  Faye O’Connor.  Wow!  Of all his friends, Faye was the right person to call.  He should have thought of her first.

He thumbed the accept icon.  “Hey, Faye,” he said.  “Funny you should call.  I—”

“Are you okay?”

What a strange question.  “Um, yeah.  Sure.  But listen, it’s been a long day, and I’m starved.  Would you and Josie like to meet for dinner?”

“Don’t go anywhere, David.  Josie’s already ordered pizza.  We’ll pick it up on our way over.  Sound good?”

“Well, sure.  Thanks, but the place is sort of a mess.  That’s what I wanted to talk—”

“Really.  Just hold the fort.  Try to relax.  Grab a beer if you have any.  We’ll bring some Bass.  That’s one of your faves, right?”

“Um, yeah.  Thanks, but—”  

“Great.  Talk to you soon, buddy.  Stay put.  Don’t go anywhere.”

She ended the call.  Puzzled, David peered at his phone.  What had that been about?  After a minute he went into the bathroom, set the hat on the back of the toilet tank and splashed cold water on his face.  It helped a little, but he still felt muzzy and wiped out.  He headed for the living room, but then he remembered the hat, so he retraced his steps.  Again, the hat settled into place like it belonged there.  After some hesitation, he took Faye’s suggestion and opened a beer.

Faye O’Connor was an engineering manager, one of David’s peers at a previous company.  She was razor sharp, and they’d collaborated on a couple of big projects, jointly-managing their combined teams.  Despite the minefields inherent in such situations, they’d worked well together, and the projects had been a success.  

They’d both moved on to other companies, but they got together socially fairly often.  Nothing romantic, Faye’s preferences in that department disqualified David.  And anyway, she was in a relationship.  But they liked each other.  

Her girlfriend, Josie, had a great sense of humor, and all three of them had similar tastes.  Most importantly, David trusted her… trusted them both, actually.  If anyone would take an openminded look at what David had found — or thought he’d found — it’d be Faye O’Connor and Josie Chiang.

David paced back and forth.  He straightened the piles of papers and did his best to put the journals in chronological order.  It turned out that some of them contained wild stories rather than real events.  Had his great uncle been a writer?  He set those volumes to one side.

Even though he’d barely touched the beer, his empty stomach coupled with the alcohol and the odd events made him light-headed.  He plopped onto the couch and slumped down.

The back of the couch pushed Uncle Arber’s hat forward.  David took it off and cradled the hat, turning it over in his hands.  He sat up straighter and slipped it back in place.  Just as before, the hat settled comfortably, like he’d worn it for years.

He must’ve dozed off, because when the doorbell rang he jerked awake.  For a moment, he didn’t know where he was.  Wild, dreamlike images persisted: a vast plain, armies wielding primitive weapons.  Lances of fire and light.  David tried to focus on the images, to remember them, but they wriggled away, fading into his subconscious.  The doorbell rang again, this time accompanied by loud knocking.

“David!” someone called.  Faye.  “Are you okay, David?  Can you let us in?”

Why did he feel so tired?  His head throbbed and eyes wouldn’t focus.  No.  That wasn’t right.  His apartment was filled with fog!  What the hell?  

“Hang on,” he mumbled.  He lurched to his feet.  The pain in his head made him gasp, but he made his way to the door.

“Glad you’re here,” he said as he opened the door.  “I’m not feeling so—”

Josie, encumbered by two large pizza boxes, did a huge double take.  Her eyes went wide.  “OH. MY. GOD,” she said.  “The hat!  He’s wearing—”

“Shush,” hissed Faye.  “Get the door, J.”  

In one, graceful movement, Faye dropped her suitcase, knelt, and placed a six-pack of Bass on the floor.  She grabbed David’s arm and half supported, half dragged him into the apartment.  Josie darted inside just long enough to deposit the pizza on the kitchen table before running back for the beer and the suitcase.

“What’s going on?” David asked, as Faye helped him onto the couch.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.  “We’ll get you sorted out, David.  I promise.  We should’ve asked you about the hat.  If you’d found it.”

“Uncle Arber’s hat?”

“Yes.  Can you take it off?”

He grabbed the brim of the old brown fedora.  The hat seemed to settle more firmly in place.  “Come on,” he muttered and tugged.  The hat popped loose.  The fog evaporated, taking his blazing headache with it.

“Now that’s seriously weird,” he said.  “How’d you know about my great uncle’s hat?  How’s that possible?  Here.”  He held the hat out to Faye.  

She shrank back.  “Oh, no.  I don’t dare touch it.  Are you okay?”

“Well, yeah.  I think so.  I had a headache and my eyes were all foggy.”

“That last bit’s because you invoked a huge fog bank.  I’m impressed… and sort of amazed you’re still alive.”

“Invoked?  As in ‘Conjured up?’  But that’s…”  David let his voice trail off.  Crazy?  Yeah.  Ten kinds of crazy.  But it was also the sort of thing that had driven him to seek advice in the first place.  The sort of thing he’d found in Great Uncle Arber’s journals.

Josie walked out of the kitchen bearing plates full of pizza.  The aroma drove everything but the emptiness in his stomach from David’s head.

“Here you go,” Josie said.  “This’ll help.”

“Thanks!”  David took a huge bite, leaned back, and closed his eyes.  He worked his way through his first slice.  He leaned over and plucked his beer from the coaster on the end table.  He took a few sips and the weirdness retreated further.

“Better?” Josie asked.

“Yeah.  That’s great.  But how did you guys know about…” he waved his pizza slice at the papers.  At the journals and at Uncle Arber’s fedora.

“Settle in,” Faye said.  “It’s going to be a long night.”

*     *     *

At midnight, they’d switched from pizza and beer to coffee.  It was 2 a.m. now.  Eyes burning with fatigue, David cradled the hot cup in his hands.  The coffee smelled good, but it’d been a long, emotional day, and exhaustion was fighting the caffeine.  He felt jittery but very slow and stupid.

“So… you’re saying that my great uncle… was some kind of sorcerer, and he drafted me to be his successor when I was like eight years old?” he asked.

Josie nodded.  Her eyes looked droopy and bloodshot, but she smiled and took a sip of her coffee.  “An alert went out when you tried on the hat this afternoon, but we’d already noticed something about you.”

“I picked up on it when we worked together at KDN,” Faye said.

David rubbed his eyes.  “No way.  How?”

“Subtle stuff.  A lot of it had to do with your work, the way you approached technical problems.”

“Sheesh.  And all this time I thought you liked hanging around with me because I’m such a sweet, easygoing guy.”

“That too, David.  But this afternoon you only wore it long enough to cause a few ripples.”

“But then when I got home…”  

“Right.  When you got home, you wore the hat for a couple of hours.  We knew for sure then.  And we contacted the Home Office.”

“The Home Office?”

She waved her hand.  “There’s an organization—”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Josie laughed.  “There’s only about a dozen of us.”

“Yeah.  We try to help each other out.”

Josie’s expression switched from its typical lightheartedness to serious.  She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees and stared hard into David’s eyes.  “All those years ago… When Arber had you wear his hat.  I think he somehow tuned it to you.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to touch it?”

Faye matched Josie’s serious expression and gestured at the old fedora.  “Yeah.  His hat might have hurt you if Arber hadn’t introduced you to it himself.”

“Or at least knocked you on your butt,” Josie added.  

“Um… listen, guys.  I’m trying to be openminded here, I really am.  But magic?”

Faye rested her hand on his forearm.  “We know, David.  It took us a long time to believe it too.  And there’s just so much that’s been lost.” 

“Most of the things in those notebooks and letters are just wacky,” he said.  “And the diagrams of those weird machines make no sense.”

“Once the sun comes up, we’ll anchor some wards around your apartment, then it’ll be safe to—”

“Safer, anyway,” Josie said.  “Safer to show you a few things.”

Faye’s lips pinched together a little and she frowned.  “J’s right; it’s never 100% safe.  But the really awful stuff—”

“The things you really don’t want sniffing around…”

“Go to ground in the daylight hours.  Mostly.”

“So we’re talking about… about creatures?  This is right out of 1930’s pulp magazines.”

“Welcome to our world,” Josie said.

“It’s his world too, J,” Faye said.  “He’s just didn’t know how to look for it.  Didn’t know about the… the…”

Josie made her voice deep.  She opened her eyes super-wide and bent her fingers like claws.  “The things.  That go bump.  In the night.”

Faye laughed a little.  “That’s you, Sweetie, when you’ve had a few too many.” 

Their effort to lighten the mood fell flat for David.  “You’d think he might’ve said something about it.  My great uncle, I mean.”

“Who would he tell?” Faye said.  “Your childhood self?  Your parents?”

David winced at the thought and shook his head.  “What about my grandmother?  Or one of her sisters?”

“We checked as best we could.  Arber left no record of talking to his family about his decision,” Josie said.  She and Faye shared a quick look.  

David wondered, briefly, what passed between them, but he was too tired to push it. “Do you think they even knew about it?  About him?” he asked.

Again the shared look.  “We doubt it.  Arber was… unconventional.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

Josie’s eyebrows shot up.  “The Chief Sorcerer of the Western Realm?  I wish.  We’re pretty new on the scene.”

“He was really nice to me.  The nicest of anyone in my family.”

Faye spoke slowly.  Carefully.  “Listen, David.  J and I talked about this on the way over.  Our guess — and it’s really only that — is that Arber Nikolia saw something in you.  He knew he wouldn’t live long enough to… to take you under his wing…”

Josie picked up the thread.  “So he wrapped a cocoon of spells around you, to keep you safe ’til you grew up.”

“But we should bag this for now,” Faye said.  “Let’s all try to get a little rest.  We’ll pick it up first thing in the morning.”

“And…  Don’t take this wrong, David,” Josie added, “but you probably noticed our suitcase.  We think it’d be better if we stayed here tonight—”

Faye smiled.  “Just to keep an eye on things.”

Josie leaned over and poked him in the ribs.  “On you, actually.  Until you learn enough to stay out of trouble.”

“Really?  I mean, I’ve managed to survive for thirty-two years without—”

“Everything’s different now,” Faye said.  “Leaving you alone would be bad news.”

David smiled at his friends.  “To be honest, I’m glad… happy to have you,” he said.  “It’s been a long day, and Uncle Arber’s stuff is the best part of it… Well, except for having two of my favorite people stay over.”  

It got quiet in the apartment.  David hoped he hadn’t made things weird by letting his feelings show.  The scene with Garth and the estate had left him more desolate than he’d admit to anyone.  It’d be nice to wake up to something other than an empty apartment.

Josie squinted at him.  “Boy, we need to find you a girlfriend.”  She turned to Faye.  “He does like women, right?”

“Enough, J.  You’re not making things better.”

“But, does—”

“Yes, Josie.  I like women.  For a while I thought it’d work out with Margaret and me, but…”  He shrugged.  “Anyway,  I’m glad you guys are here.  “You take my bed.  I’ll crash on the sofa.  It’s—”

“No way, kiddo,” Faye said.  “That’s not right.”

“Come on.  Let me pretend like I’m an actual host.  Anyway, I’ve slept on the couch enough times just nodding off while I was working on a project.”

“But…”

“You won’t get cooties.  I changed the sheets yesterday.”

Faye’s cheeks flushed.  “That’s not what I meant, David.”

“Good.  It’s settled then.  There are clean towels in the hall closet.  Let me grab a pillow and use the facilities for a few minutes.  I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

The household quieted.  Though still buzzed from the strangeness, to say nothing of the late-night coffee intake, David felt pretty good.  Exhaustion and estrangement with his brother notwithstanding, he had friends, two of whom were in the next room. 

He lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, snuggled under an old Afghan.  Connections, family connections and connections of friendship and work, swirled in his head.  An oblique thought bubbled up: his Grandma Violet, who had been Great Uncle Arber’s youngest sister, had crocheted this Afghan.  She’d given it to David when he completed his bachelor’s degree — the only family member to acknowledge that milestone.  He wished Uncle Arber had lived long enough to be there…

****End of Part II***
Please return next week for another installment!

Copyright © 2021, Michael C. Glaviano.  All rights reserved.