Darkness

Rosy

Poor Gregor. He’s stuck up in our room for another couple of days, then in our house for a couple more. He’s already trying to take care of business without being seen by anybody. Ben has gone Under-the-Hill to relay a message I gave him from Gregor that any black people on his crew need to be careful not to be seen reading. Since the slave patrol is apparently on the lookout for that, I agree. Gregor can’t be running around town getting whipped for everybody each time one of them is caught with a list or a book.

Thank goodness Gregor doesn’t have to be afraid to read. He keeps thinking of other books that he’d like me to find in the parlor or study and bring them upstairs to him. He has been alternating between restlessly leafing through them, sighing, staring out the window, and flopping on the bed. Tiger is pacing around with him, probably wondering what his strange human is doing, but trying to keep him company and help him get through whatever it is.

But even with his adoring dog, and most of the books in the house, he is already going completely stir-crazy and it is only the first day.

By the time that I have brought his tray of food up for supper and told Nadine that she can go home for the night, I am formulating a plan. He needs some kind of entertainment, and I suspect that he has healed enough for what I have in mind.

I realize that I have a way to check that. I wouldn’t put it past Gregor to lie to me about it if I ask him directly, even if he isn’t actually ready yet. “Wolk,” I think as I am changing Vernon’s diaper in the nursery, “I don’t want you to say anything to Gregor about this. I just want you to answer yes or no to a question when I get back in there, and tell Gregor that it is the answer to a question I had for my own Guardian.” I pause for a moment to make sure that he heard me, then go on. “Gregor is going crazy stuck in our room, I’m sure you have noticed. What I want to know is, has he healed enough for sex yet?” I don’t feel shy talking to Wolk about sex. He’s apparently been staring at us doing it for a year and a half now. I obviously don’t have any secrets, so there’s no point in being bashful.

When I get back into our room, I hand the baby to Gregor, who accepts him happily, sitting down on a chair and holding him on his knees. They coo at each other quite adorably. At least Vernon is diverting, but he’ll be settling down for the night soon.

Suddenly Gregor looks up at me, an amused look on his face. “Um, Wolk says the answer to your question is ‘yes’,” he says, then lifts his eyebrows. “Are you chatting with your Guardian? How nice!”

That’s the answer I wanted, but I feel bad that I am deceiving him this way. Also, I suppose I feel bad to be using my Guardian as an excuse, when I didn’t really ask them anything. I think part of the reason it is easier to talk to Gregor’s Guardian is that I know his name. So maybe I should…

“What is my Guardian’s name?” I ask him, not exactly answering his question. It would be easier to direct questions to someone whose name I at least know.

“Guardians don’t really have names,” he tells me. “They don’t need them, since nobody ever talks to them. I named mine. I could call him anything, I suppose. I don’t think it really matters to him.”

He looks to the side and smiles. “Wolk says that I’m wrong, that he has been using the name Wolk for so long that he wouldn’t want me to call him anything else.” He chuckles. “I admit that I also call him rude names sometimes.”

I giggle a little. “Really? Like what?”

He grins. “Some are pretty impolite.” He thinks for a moment, probably trying to find one that isn’t vulgar to share with me, as though he has forgotten where I came from. As if there are any words that could possibly shock me. He goes on, “Sometimes I call him ‘Hound’ if I want to be a little snide.” He looks back over to the side and laughs. “Wolk points out that he only calls me loving names.”

Really? “He calls you names? Like what?”

He gets a mischievous look on his face. “Far nicer names than I deserve. He’s always calling me things like ‘Beloved’ and ‘Darling’ and ‘My Dear’.”

“Awwww!” I say. “Wolk, you are very sweet.”

Gregor laughs. “He says thank you. Careful, or else he’ll start liking you more than he likes me!” Then he guffaws. “He says that might have already happened!”

It is nice to see him laughing.

“So,” I say, getting back to my original question, “my Guardian really doesn’t have a name? What should I call them?”

“Anything you like,” he says. “I am pretty sure that your Guardian would be extremely excited to have you assign a name. I think Ayola’s Guardian was thrilled.”

Oh! “Ayola named her Guardian? What?”

He smiles. “She calls her Misty. It’s because she saw some mist on the river last year while she and Dalila were staying here, and asked me what it was called. When I told her, she decided that was what her Guardian was named, because she looks like that.”

Now I have more questions. “Her? Ayola’s Guardian is a girl?” I guess I hadn’t thought of that, since Gregor always refers to Wolk as male. “So, do females get female Guardians? That makes sense.”

“Well, no,” he replies, covering and uncovering his eyes as he plays peek-a-boo with Vernon who smiles back up at him each time, “they don’t have genders either.”

“Excuse me?”

“They aren’t real, not physically. They don’t have bodies. They can look like anything they wish, so they can look male or female, whatever they want.”

I just stare at him. “Sooooo… Ayola’s looks like mist?” That’s even stranger than Gregor’s looking like a wolf.

He stops playing around with Vernon and looks at me, a serious expression on his face. “It is to protect Ayola. Her Guardian decided as soon as she was born not to form an appearance, because she didn’t want Ayola staring at her too much, for fear that her owners would find it disturbing. She didn’t want Ayola attracting negative attention, and being sold or harmed as a result.”

“Ohhh,” I breathe. Sometimes I can almost forget that Ayola is a slave, and how risky that can be. He’s right, of course. No owner would want to keep a creepy slave child who stares at unseen spirits. It is a dark thought.

“But her Guardian … Misty… is female?”

“She apparently uses a voice that sounds like Dalila’s, so I guess that she has decided to appear as a female for Ayola.”

This is all so strange. Gregor seems so matter-of-fact about it, but it is truly bizarre. “Well,” I fret, “I can’t see mine, or hear mine. How on earth could I know what to call them? I wouldn’t even know whether to use a man’s name or a woman’s name.” This seems very complicated.

I can tell that Gregor is listening to Wolk for a minute. Then he looks at me, and says, “If it will help, Wolk says that your Guardian has assumed a vague form roughly like a woman. Apparently Guardians often choose an appearance to match the gender of their human, just to be able to relate to them better.”

Oh.

Um.

Well, that does rule out half the names. I watch Vernon with Gregor, still laying across his lap, with Tiger gently poking his nose at the baby. I start flipping through names in my head, of girls I have known, and none of them feel right. Not my mother or sister’s names, of course. Ann? No. Margaret? No. Genevive? No. Samantha? No. Nadine? No. Beverly? Definitely not!

Gregor looks up at me, and gently says, “It isn’t an assignment, darling. You aren’t required to think of a name. Why don’t you just let the idea rest. If one comes to you that feels right, you’ll know it.”

I nod, and say, “Well, it’s about time for me to feed Vernon and put him down for the night. Say goodnight to Dada, Vernon.”

Gregor lifts him up and snuggles him for a moment then hands him to me. Once his arms are empty again his shoulders slump, and he looks forlornly around the bedroom like it is a jail cell.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Gregor, cheer up,” I tell him, about to head into the nursery. “It’s not that bad in here.”

He sighs. “I know.” He’s slouching in his chair, his hand absently rubbing Tiger’s fur.

“I tell you what,” I suggest, “why don’t you take Tiger downstairs and get him settled on his bed in the study. Jake won’t tattle on you. You should have him take the dog outside to do his business, since you shouldn’t be seen out there, but you can at least spend a few minutes in your study. Just put a shirt on so that Jake can’t see your back.”

His eyes light up like he has been granted a pardon from a prison sentence. It makes me smile. Just wait until he sees what else I have planned for tonight.