ever was,” whatever that meant.
He talked and talked and the more he talked, it seemed as if I’d never been away. Not once did he ask about my sudden appearance or the reason for it. I wondered how much Carolina, or even Owen Bramley, had told him. His sense of arrivals and departures, and the trivialities attending them, reminded me of Zeru-Meq.
After coming to a screeching halt in front of the carriage house, Carolina announced that “business” was closed for the evening. The big feast was on and everyone in the house was invited. I asked her if my presence needed explaining and she said it was not my presence she was worried about, it was my absence that needed explaining.
She immediately began taking charge of the preparations and suggested Solomon take me on the grand tour. I asked him if he would prefer a short nap and he said, “Nonsense.”
He took me through the big house and introduced me to all the “ladies” who lived and worked in Carolina’s home. There were five who lived there normally, but the youngest one, Lily, was visiting her ailing brother in New Orleans. They were gracious, bright, and obviously all in love with Solomon. I wasn’t sure of their ages, but none looked younger than eighteen or older than thirty. Solomon’s simple introduction to each one was the same, “Zis is Zianno.”
He led me through all the rooms and salons, which were elegant and immaculate, comfortable with every nuance of taste and decoration, and definitely giving the impression of someone’s home rather than someone’s whorehouse.
We ended up in his room and Solomon eased himself into a beautiful burl walnut rocker set close to the window and facing west. I turned and looked around the room. It was a good room, a warm room. I’d never known him to keep photographs, but he had two of them, framed and displayed on his dresser. One was a formal portrait of Mrs. Bennings, which I’d never seen before, and the other was a blurry shot of Star trying to keep still in the grass of the “Honeycircle.”
I asked him how he liked living in one place for such a long time. He looked through the window first, then rose out of the rocker and walked to the dresser. He picked up the photograph of Star.
“It is zis one, Zianno. Zis child has stolen my heart.”
I looked at the picture with him. He was right. Her eyes were as bright and full of promise as a sunrise.
“She is lovely,” I said.
“Yes. yes, she is,” he said, almost under his breath. Then he smiled and said, “Do you remember your Plato, Z?”
I laughed. “I’m not sure, what do you mean?”
“Basically, Plato said all we really needed to do in zis life was to cultivate reason, honor, and passion. But zis one”—and he pointed at Star’s photograph—“zis one has taught me that the first two can go poof! All we need is the last — passion — and we must rediscover zis passion every day. Star does zis without effort, as every child can, I know, but I tell you, Z, every day I watch in wonder. It is such a simple thing. I think Yahweh must have meant for us to go full circle. I see zis world more and more as Star does than as Solomon.”
He carefully placed the photograph back on the dresser, then made his way to the other side of the room and disappeared into a walk-in closet. I heard some rustling and grumbling and he tossed the tuxedo to the floor. A few minutes later, he walked out in slippers, long, loose trousers, and a black velvet smoking jacket, tied at the waist. I didn’t say a word, but smiled to myself, remembering that scarecrow I’d seen years ago in Colorado.
“Come, Zianno,” he said. “You must eat if you want to grow up big and strong.”
He put his arm around my shoulders and we both laughed all the way down the stairs.
Dinner was a feast in every sense of the word. The food was delicious, the women were beautiful, the spirits were high, and the tales were tall. Much of the conversation concerned the Fair and the life around it. The women talked at length about the international fashion they’d seen and, at the same time, the lack of it. Carolina brought me up-to-date on professional baseball a little, telling of the exploits of a few players and recounting the World Series, the first one ever, the year before. Star bounced back and forth between Solomon and Li and I could see that each was jealous of Star’s affection for the other. Solomon told stories about China and held the women mesmerized. As he was in the middle of one particular tale in which he was pulling the wool over the eyes of a Chinese man, I glanced at Li, who was sitting as silent as stone in the corner and shaking his head from side to side, as if poor Solomon would never get it right.
The whole evening was loud and lusty, and as it began to wind down, the table thinned out. The women left one by one and Star fell asleep in Solomon’s lap, with Solomon himself nodding off soon after. Li picked up Star to take her to bed and Carolina assisted a grumbling Solomon upstairs to his room.
I walked outside through the kitchen and, without thinking about it, wandered in the darkness back to the “Honeycircle.” I took a few steps in, but stopped short of entering. I could see nothing except a faint light from above, inside the carriage house. The heavy, sweet scent of honeysuckle was overpowering. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, and as my lungs were nearly empty, I heard in the darkness someone else breathing in. I closed my eyes and opened them again, trying to see a form. I stood silent, waiting. Then, ahead of me, inside the darkness, I thought I saw a shape, a silhouette, something. I took a few steps forward, toward it. Something was familiar, something particular was forming and coming toward me. This couldn’t be, I thought, but I could almost see them. I could see the lips, her lips, coming toward me. They were parted and trembling. Suddenly, from behind me, I heard footsteps, real ones. I turned and it was Carolina, carefully making her way through the opening.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She took my arm and led me up the stairs to the carriage house. She showed me the room I was to stay in, and as she was fluffing up pillows and turning the bed down, I walked out to the balcony and looked down on the “Honeycircle.” I don’t know how many minutes passed, but I was lost, somewhere inside and far away. Without my knowing, at some point Carolina had slipped in behind me and was looking over my shoulder.
“What is her name, Z?” she asked.
“Opari,” I said, after pausing only a moment.
“That is a beautiful name.”
I turned and looked at Carolina. She was standing with the light behind her and her eyes were in shadow.
“Did you leave her to come to me?”
“Yes and no.”
“If I have caused you pain in any way, I couldn’t—”
“You have not,” I interrupted. I took her hand in mine and moved to where I could see her eyes. There was a single tear sliding down her cheek over her freckles.
“Will you tell me more about her?” she asked.
“Yes, I promise.”
“Good,” she said. “Let’s get some rest.”
After a long overdue and dreamless sleep, I was awakened to Star’s birthday by Star herself. She was leaning on my bed, shaking my knee, and saying, “ZeeZee, wake up! ZeeZee, come on! ZeeZee, we ride the Fierce Whale, we ride the Fierce Whale.”
It took me a minute to figure out she meant “Ferris Wheel, Ferris Wheel,” and then I remembered our plans for the World’s Fair.
Everything moved quickly. We had a hearty breakfast in the kitchen of the big house, then all gathered under the stone arch at the top of the driveway. At first, we debated whether to walk to the Fair or not, thinking of Solomon, but he would have none of that, and away we went. There were six in our party: Solomon and I took up the rear; Li and Carolina walked in front of us, and leading the whole pack were Star and Ciela, the second youngest of Carolina’s “ladies” and the most trusted. She was of Cuban descent and still had a trace of an accent. Star seemed to treat her like a sister and she was along to celebrate, as well as babysit, if Star got tired or sleepy.
Carolina and Ciela both carried parasols, and by the time we approached the main entrance near De Baliviere and Lindell, both were unfurled. The sun was already high in the sky and the day was hot and getting
