That night lying in bed, a rush of emotions swept over the girl. Seeing Schuler’s face again brought back memories of her parents and scraped old heartaches anew. Granted, she had only known this man a couple of years before her parents’ passing, introduced to the family through one of her father’s clients. Nevertheless, he had been with her through the very worst of it, offering his unending support. Patience had been ready to meet her future with a fresh face underneath the protection of Anax, now her past had risen from the depths to pull her back once more.
“I really can’t believe he’s back …” mumbled the girl. “I mean, I knew his tour would end at some point, but he came back to Keaton …”
“He did say he got an apartment just to be between work and you. Maybe he still wishes to be with you.”
“Maybe … or he feels sorry for me and wants to be close in case I need him for some odd job around the house.” Patience let the thought sink in and stilled. She groaned, pulling the covers tightly over her chest. At this moment, the girl only wished to be whisked away to the land of her dreams and not worry about reality for several hours.
The next day offered clear skies and moderate temperatures. It certainly was more serene and optimistic than Patience’s broiling mind. With Schuler’s return, he was all she could think about. The girl nursed a cup of tea at the kitchen table, her glazed eyes gazing out the window at the morning serenity. She wanted to hear about his time out West. They had nearly four years to catch up on, but she also dreaded a visit. She feared sitting down to talk with him would not be the same as it once was. She feared that he could have changed. Perhaps he would be less open with her. Perhaps he even had someone in his life now. A thousand possibilities swarmed her head.
“You’re getting anxious again,” Anax remarked.
“It’s … nothing,” said Patience. Seeking distraction, the girl realized Anax would be suitable for the time being. She ventured to pry a little more about him. “How long do you live in this state?”
“So long as the center core of my skull, that nodule above your nose, remains intact, I can always accept a life-donor.”
“You could live for hundreds of years then!”
“It’s possible. It’s a rough life in our homeland, though. The oldest first-born I knew was eighty-six winters. And most second-borns only last a little longer than their first lives.”
Patience brought a hand up to stroke Anax’s jaw. An urge to protect his skull passed over her. For once, the girl felt the ability to extend someone’s life was within her control. “How old were you when your first life ended?”
“Thirty-five winters or so,” he replied. “No idea how long I was inert before you received me.”
“Do you miss your original body?”
“Not really. I can become so much more this way. I can take on the shape of my donor’s species, any species, any thing. I’m free to be as I please.”
“What did you look like before?”
“Do you wish to see?”
“Yes. If I can.”
“To the mirror.”
Patience took them down the hallway to the tall mirror, heart drumming in anticipation. Her footfalls halted at the silver glass. Reflected on its surface was a young woman, a dark skull obfuscating her face.
“Ready?” asked Anax. She nodded.
The white mist flowed out of the back of the skull. It twisted and amassed into an enormous hunched shape behind the human. Spikes rose to manifest a peaked carapace. Long, thick, jagged arms sprouted away from its plated chest. A taut torso gave way to solid segmented legs with an insectoid abdomen in between. Inside the skull’s mouth, a second set of jaws fully packed with teeth appeared. Anax’s orb condensed and dulled slightly to reveal a slitted iris. Set within the wide left socket of his skull was a ghostly, scarred hollow that once held an eye. Patience gasped in awe. Fully formed, Anax allowed Patience to turn from side to side, he along with her, to let her view him from various angles.
“Are you not pleased?” his ghostly inner jaws clacked, moving independently of the tangible skull.
“I—I don’t know what to say. I suppose I’m thankful you usually take on a more human shape. But why?”
“To get to know you strange creatures better.” He pawed at her with his right hand, the two main claws jutting from it resembled the arms of a praying mantis. The tiny spines raked her skin. “To know you better.”
Patience’s gaze dropped. Embarrassed to ask, but curiosity getting the better of her, she spoke, “Wh-what does your penis look like?”
With a low chuckle, Anax’s insect abdomen crunched forward between his and Patience’s legs. Two rigid structures emerged from the tip, flanking a long, knotted tube that extended past their knees and nearly touched the mirror.
“I’m really thankful you usually take on a human shape,” Patience gulped.
He morphed into his normal form. Relieved to see the familiar sight, Patience smiled. She admired his current body in the silvery surface, even if it looked a tad silly crouching to accommodate her height. It was not unlike a very well-muscled man. But like a dog, his legs crooked in at his ankles. Spurs stuck out the back above the flat of the foot, and he resolved to rest on clawed toes. Why he did not form human legs stumped Patience. For all she knew, he wanted to retain some monstrous features. As much as he could ever try, even if he wished, Anax would never be human.
Patience sighed as her mind returned to more pressing thoughts. She would have to face Schuler sooner or later. It was probably for the best to not distance herself from the last human she was close with. She had lived the past four years in relative solitude and now had a monster for a partner. Schuler would be the thread to reel her back from being a complete outcast. The girl vowed to visit him the next day.
A soft wash of peach bled into the morning sky when the sun reared its weary head over the horizon. Still feeling quite shaken, Patience only managed to gulp down a fried egg and a biscuit for breakfast. Her stomach ached, but it was not out of hunger. The girl could not endure any longer, she had to speak with him again.
“W-would you mind if I took you off while I go visit Schuler?” whispered Patience, drying her plate.
“Visiting him means visiting town.”
“Yes. But I want to speak to him alone,” said the girl. “I’ll keep you on until I reach his apartment.” She patted the skull’s jaw. “And then I’ll make it up to you. I can put you on afterwards and we’ll explore town a bit more.”
Anax grumbled.
“You can play with me too when we come back.”
“Very well,” he mumbled.
A spark of joy flashed in her heart. Patience dashed to her room to dress, picking out the least worn clothes. Before she left, she applied a light spray of her newly purchased perfume.
As the girl traveled into town, her footsteps fell to the rhythm of her thumping heart. The path into Keaton was still littered with remnants of the spring festival. Paper shreds scattered by the wind rested alongside withered petals on the ground. Orphaned pieces of food were smashed into foot and wheel tracks on the road. The houses on the outskirts sat eerily quiet, their occupants sleeping in after a full twenty-four hours of revelry followed by a day of cleaning. Only birdsong and the light rustling of a breeze through spring foliage kept complete silence at bay. At the moment, the world belonged to nature alone.
Burgeoning signs of life finally greeted Patience by the time she came into Keaton-proper. Shopkeepers sleepily unlocked their doors to the public, extending their welcome to the sun as they drew their curtains open. Neighbors idly greeted one another before slowly beginning to pick up the final pieces left by festivities. Divets in the ground were all that marked where festival stalls had been erected. Patience passed by the park, the lawn trampled and kicked to an unsightly state. A bit twisted that a festival celebrating the beauty of the season would leave behind such a mess.
The address Schuler gave her was easy enough to find; Keaton was only so large. Patience entered the kept apartment lobby, listening to her boot heels click against the tiled floor. With one foot tentatively on the first step of the open staircase, Patience took Anax off her head. She then ascended the steps as her heart beat steadily faster. Spiraling upwards, the winding motion seemed to focus her thoughts. Her vision tunneled until a bronze number nine came before her, shining on Schuler’s door. Gripping Anax between her hands, she peered down fondly at the skull. His simple presence reassured the girl. She held her breath as she knocked on the apartment door.
There was a muffled clatter of dishes before the more audible turning of the lock. The door swung open to reveal a grinning Schuler. “Patience! You came!” he said, sweeping his hair away from his face.
“Sorry I’m here unannounced so early, but we have so much to catch up on,” Patience said, nerves staggering her voice.
“Please! Your visits are always welcomed. Come on in.” He waved his hand, ushering her inside.
As the girl entered the apartment, tall windows bathed her in golden morning light. To the right was a small kitchen, Patience glimpsed the dirty dishes in the sink through the open doorway. A sizable sitting area took up the main part of the space with a backdrop of town views exposed through the curtains. At the far end were two closed doors. Patience suspected them to lead to a bathroom and bedroom. A few of the pieces of furniture around her were still wrapped, but everything that could offer a seat was available to service them.
Schuler stepped over to the sofa and fluffed a couple of pillows, inviting her to sit down. She obliged, choosing a spot warmed by a shaft of sunlight. She set Anax down on the cushion next to her.
“Brought your friend to visit too?” Schuler chuckled as he poured the girl a cup of tea he had brewed just before she arrived.
“Oh. It’s something of a good luck charm,” said Patience. Now was not the time to disclose Anax’s true nature. Not yet.
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“Biggest good luck charm I ever seen,” laughed Schuler.
He set down the tea kettle atop a doily on the table at their feet. The man made himself comfortable in the armchair adjacent to Patience. As he settled before her, all the worries washed away with his lax smile. He was as she remembered. Patience scolded herself for all her doubting.
“Let’s get right to it,” said the girl, “Let me hear about your tour and everything you did out West!”
“I forgot how much you liked stories.”
“Then you’ve been away too long,” she tutted.
“All right, all right. Lemme make sure I got enough tea. Don’t wanna get parched,” the musician snickered, making a grand show of looking into his cup.
“I can refill it for you as you go, just start already!”
With a throat-clearing cough, Schuler began to tell his sweeping tales of his time in the western half of the country. It was a lot of country to cover. It was a lot of time to cover. He gave a very thorough account of his experiences in each state and city, refusing to gloss over any detail of his band’s many exploits, including the outstanding meals they had. In another life, the man might have written ballads to be beloved by the whole nation. Patience listened attentively, hanging onto his every word.
It was amazing the things that could happen to a vaudeville band: getting lost in the desert and ending up on a reservation, accidentally starting a stampede of police horses, disguising a family of immigrants to sneak them across the southern border, having the president attend a show held right before an earthquake. All of it could fill a novel three times over. By the time he wrapped up the tales from their final stop, the sunbeam had navigated across the parlor rug.
“Oh! Before I forget, here’s something I picked up in Yerba Buena just for you.” Schuler reached over to a side table and grabbed a small carton, he opened it to reveal something glinting in a nest of cotton. “It’s a snuff bottle imported from Cathay.” The man presented to her a small porcelain vessel decorated with an enameled floral motif. “Empty of course. But I thought it’d look nice on that dresser of yours.”
Patience’s eyes shone. “Thank you so much, Schuler! This is beautiful! I love it!” She cradled the tiny thing in her palms, drinking in each minute detail.
“Looks like we’re out of tea,” said Schuler shaking the kettle in his hand.
“A shame.” Patience tucked the bottle back into the carton, and set it under Anax’s crown so as not to forget it.
“It’s about time for lunch.” The man stood up from his seat. “Shall we? There’s a restaurant just down the street.” Patience felt her stomach clamor for food. Her paltry breakfast had long been digested. Meeting Schuler’s gaze, she nodded.
On their way to the door, the girl shot a quick glance back at Anax still resting on the pillow. She narrowed her eyes, but followed Schuler out into the hallway despite her worry. The man locked the door behind them.
It was a short walk to the restaurant. Patience had not remembered this place being here when she visited this street last. She really had been holed up in her cottage for a long time. The restaurant was beautiful in its simplicity. Wooden wall panels reached high to the tin-tiled ceiling, basic iron chandeliers suspended between the plates. In its humility, the restaurant welcomed Keaton’s middle-class.
The hostess seated the pair in the middle of the wide dining hall at the remaining empty table, and quickly took their order. The noise from the packed establishment nearly snuffed out Schuler’s additional asides. Patience had to slide her chair closer to his as they sat waiting.
“So you heard all that I did these past few years. What about you?” he asked, leaning closely by Patience’s shoulder.
“I … really didn’t do much,” the girl replied. She sipped her glass of water. “I stayed home. Well, I’d come to town for anything I needed, but I never lingered long.”
“I knew you stopped attending festivals ever since …” began Schuler.
Patience dipped her head.
He cleared his throat and continued, “I didn’t know you stopped going out altogether …”
The girl’s voice wavered, “I didn’t have much reason to leave the house. It was just a bit hard going about day to day, knowing you were thousands of miles away.”
“I couldn’t help the tour schedule … “ Schuler glanced off to the side, catching a glimpse of a couple seated at a nearby table. They were lost in their own little world, completely shut away from the lively crowd. He sniffed, redirecting his attention back to his own tableau. “It was the opportunity of a lifetime. And it’s not like I’m tied down to anything here,” he said, bitterness on his tongue.
Patience shifted her gaze.
“I go where the wind takes me, or wherever my bandmates go.”
“What’s a few letters between friends?”
“Sorry. I thought the birthday telegrams were enough. Honestly, I didn’t know you cared.”
The girl shot a hurt look into his eyes. “Of course I cared!”
At that very moment, their food arrived. Patience cleared her throat and scrunched up the napkin held in her hands. Thankful for the interruption, her mouth relaxed. The continued exercise in forming words tired her, and she eagerly anticipated the mindless chewing to come. Patience dug into her pork chop, venting her frustration through knife cuts.
After several mouthfuls of food, the girl’s thoughts eased a bit. Schuler glanced at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak on her own terms. Patience noticed this. A shadow of a smile passed over her lips.
From the moment he stepped onto their property, Schuler had always been patient with her. He had arrived one spring day to patch a few spots on their roof. Shying from the presence of a stranger, Patience milled about indoors. It was not until the afternoon that curiosity got the better of her, and she ventured outside to get to know the man. He answered all of her questions, even the ones about his task at hand, no matter how obvious or mundane. More favorable yet, during their whole conversation, he never once stared at her burn. He also never obviously avoided staring at it. Sometimes that was even more awkward to endure.
Patience began to feel increasingly comfortable around him. He could potentially be a new friend, something Patience had not gained in a long time. Pushing the boundaries even further, she requested to join him on the roof. Once confident Mr. and Mrs. Firmin were still inside the house, he allowed the girl up on the section with the gentlest incline.
It was the first time Patience had ever seen her home from a new perspective. She was awestruck. After several minutes of breathless wonderment, Schuler invited her to sit, taking a break from work. They shared his sandwich and watched a nest of birds in the white pine. However, their period of peace abruptly ceased when Mrs. Firmin noisily exited the house with a load of laundry. Patience bade a quiet farewell and snuck back down the ladder before her mother rounded the corner.
Patience shook herself free from past memories and noticed a family walk into the restaurant, the hostess leading them past her. Hot stares pricked her burn. The two children began to whimper and cling to their parents. For two decades the people of Keaton have grown accustomed to seeing Patience around town. But as new faces appear or pass through, they would often shove Patience back into that uncomfortable cage, labeling her an oddity. The children squealed louder, drowning the admonishing hushes of their parents. She shrank into her shoulders.
How ironic that Patience wished desperately to have the skull of a monster over her head to hide her own grotesqueness. Under Anax’s crown, she had power. She was mysterious. People could only guess her capabilities. Even if she commanded double the stares with Anax, he was her choice. He was her diversion from her true inescapable ugliness. Stripped of her armor, Patience was exposed to the world for what she really was: a simple, plain, deformed girl. She shifted in her seat, mumbling her regret over leaving Anax on the sofa.
Sensing her distress, Schuler rubbed her back. The family had been seated, but the commotion led to the entire dining hall softening their previously boisterous noise. Patience hunched over her meal, dabbing a forkful of pork into a pool of sauce on the plate.
“Y-you’ve never paid much attention to my burn …” said the girl, eyes downcast.
Schuler swallowed a bit of sausage before turning his head to her. “Why would I?”
“Appearances are so important to women. I look awful. Young men turn away from me. Children stare at me in fear. I’m a monster to them.”
“Patience … I grew up with maimed and disfigured war veterans all around me. If I learned anything from them, it’s that appearances do not a monster make.”
Patience smiled and pulled away from her plate to meet Schuler’s gaze. If only more people were like him. The pair finished their meals as they exchanged snide remarks about the family in low tones. It was a petty but satisfying remedy. Plates cleared and bill paid, they rose to leave. Patience’s head flipped over to see the couple still seated nearby. They gently stroked each other’s hands, eyes locked together, lost in a dream, food far from being finished. Patience raised an eyebrow as a thought wormed into her mind.
Nervous hands wrung together as the girl trailed behind Schuler on their walk back to his apartment. It would be immodest to ask; he might think less of her if she spilled such a question from her lips. However, curiosity was a vile disease and consumed her whole being at the very nibble of a thought.
Once in the privacy of the apartment, Patience sat in her previous spot. Her back was straight as a board, hands tensely folded in her lap. Taking notice, Schuler slowed to a halt on his way to the kitchen, before he could boil more water.
“What’s the matter, Patience? Still upset about that family?”
The girl shook her head. She swallowed. “I wanted to ask you something. It may be a bit improper …”
“Go on. I don’t mind,” reassured the man.
“Did you … have company? At any time during your tour?”
Schuler mildly choked on his own saliva before meeting her gaze. Unable to lie to her, he replied, “A brief affair with one of the chorus, but she ended up with Celeste’s manager.”
A sigh escaped the girl’s lips as a weight lifted off her chest. They were familiar. They were close. No question seemed too personal. While any other person might have gasped and moved away from the discussion incensed or shut her down completely, Schuler took it in stride. That was something she had always admired about him.
With the affirmation, the girl glanced upward, taking in the full visage of the man. A fabricated image of him nude with a woman briefly flashed through her mind. Never before had she entertained the idea of him being intimate with anyone. But he was a man with urges like so many others. It was slightly foolish for her to hold on to such a pure and innocent idea of Schuler. Patience smirked, drawing the man’s focus.
“Pardon my impudence, but did you? Have company?” he asked.
She remained silent.
“You did! With whom?”
“I’m not going to say,” said Patience, looking away. She could not resist letting a coy smile bend her lip.
“Well that’s just not fair,” Schuler whined with a smirk.
In each other’s presence, they had a gift of turning conversations to more lighter destinations. Patience appreciated how casual they could be together. Perhaps it was to their detriment, never laying out their feelings thoroughly, but neither of them minded in the here and now. Time passed in idle conversation, another pot of tea emptied. Patience glanced outside the window and noticed the sun beginning to recline into the horizon.
“I should start heading home before it gets dark,” Patience sighed, shifting onto her feet.
“Oh! Before you go, want to hear a song Celeste is working into her routine?”
She smiled as she settled back into the sofa. “Of course. I always love to hear you play.”
“Great!” said Schuler, rushing to his bedroom for his guitar. The girl could not help but laugh to herself. Schuler had the alacrity of a schoolboy whenever it came to showing off new songs. Cradling his honey instrument in his arms as one would a babe, he pulled over a stool from the corner and sat opposite of Patience.
Schuler cleared his throat despite never singing anything and needlessly rolled his shoulders to limber up. Patience stifled a giggle. Striking the first chord, he then unleashed a flurry of notes. His fingers danced across the strings and fretboard like a scuttling spider. She knew not why hearing Schuler play his guitar sent her cheeks flushing. Indeed the man was talented, but his skill was not unequaled. Perhaps it was the fact he was so zealous to share his gift with her, and she did not feel deserving.
In spite of the music, a quiet serenity overtook the pair. Swaying with his strumming, Schuler coaxed Patience into a trance. She hardly paid attention to the lively melody, getting lost in Schuler’s effortless hands instead. Every strum, pick, and light knock on the guitar’s body came to him intuitively. Schuler seemed to have his eyes closed half of the time. It was not until the man trailed off the melody, plucking the strings softer and softer, that Patience came to her senses again. Schuler leaned back in the stool, letting his hands rest on the maple body. His mouth curled into a half smile.
“So, your thoughts?”
Patience beamed giddily and shrugged. “Everything you do is wonderful. What else can I say?”
Satisfied with that answer, Schuler chuckled and got up. He reached out a hand to Patience, escorting her to the door. “I had a great day with you.”
“I’ll say the same,” said Patience. She hefted Anax’s skull under one arm and tucked the snuff bottle into her corset.
“Do come again.”
“I will. Soon!”
She waved. Her feet tapped lightly to the landing. Schuler tipped his head and watched her descend the stairs. Before her head disappeared below the floor, she peered back at the musician, gifting him one last smile for the day.