Waking the Moon

search of Baby Joe.

Dusk was already falling, barren trees throwing long shadows beneath the street-lamps. In Baby Joe’s room a light was on. I was afraid to go to the front door, so I threw pebbles at his window until he peered out. He mimed surprise and relief, raising his hands and shaking his head, then motioned for me to go around to the back of the building. I crept through a hedge of overgrown box trees until I saw Baby Joe leaning against the dorm’s ivy-covered wall, holding open a fire door with one hand. In the other he held my battered knapsack.

“Hey, hija. I was starting to worry when I found this in your room but no Sweeney. You in trouble?”

“Something like that.”

I followed him to his room. He shut and locked the door, and I groaned with relief. Baby Joe hugged me awkwardly, his stolid face creased with concern.

“What happened, hija? Me and Hasel went looking for you, but you were gone.”

I perched myself on the edge of his bed. Except for the fine layer of ash over everything, Baby Joe’s room was disturbingly neat. A Royal Upright typewriter sat on the old wooden desk, surrounded by carefully arranged stacks of paper and textbooks. Issues of Punk Magazine and New York Rocker and The Paris Review were lined up against one wall, and I knew if I opened one of his bureau drawers I’d see his tired white T-shirts and black nylon socks stored with just as much solicitude. It all made me feel incredibly disgusting.

Baby Joe didn’t notice or didn’t care. He cracked open the window, reached out onto the sill, and withdrew two bottles of Old Bohemian. “Here, hija. Where the hell’d you go?”

I told him everything that had happened since we fled back to the Orphic Lodge. Baby Joe leaned against his desk, giggling softly in disbelief and laughing out loud when I told him about the Benandanti’s portal.

“No shit? One of their puertas? You got cojones, Sweeney!”

But when I mentioned Francis Connelly he shook his head.

“Francis X. Connelly. Someday I’m gonna take him out—” He pointed a finger at me and cocked his thumb. “Bang. I’d do it now, but they might revoke my scholarship.”

I told him about watching Magda Kurtz being shoved through the door in Garvey Hall, about Angelica’s crescent-shaped necklace and how I wasn’t sure if she was working with Balthazar Warnick and the Benandanti or against them.

“Probably against them. Angie, you know Angie is smart but not that kind of smart,” said Baby Joe. “These student brujos, they get kind of cocky. I’ve seen it with my brother’s friends; they think because they’re tapped for the Benandanti they can do anything. Fly, walk on water, kill a big cow with a charm bracelet. But Warnick? I wouldn’t fuck with Warnick, I tell you that.”

At last I finished. My beer was still half-full, but all of a sudden I couldn’t stomach any more. I buried my face in my hands, and started to cry.

“Hey. It’s okay—” Baby Joe sat on the bed next to me and patted my back. “You can stay here tonight, you can move all your stuff here if you want, hija, it’s okay—”

“It’s not okay! They’re kicking me out, my parents are gonna kill me, and Christ, Baby Joe, what is going on here? Where’s Angelica? Where’s Oliver? What—”

I swallowed, my voice fading to a whisper. “What we saw in the field—what the hell was that?”

Baby Joe shrugged. “You tell me,” he said softly. “But these Benandanti, they do a lot of crazy shit—”

“But that didn’t have anything to do with the Benandanti. That was something else. Angelica’s gotten all hyped up about some weird goddess cult; she’s been reading all these books and talking about the second coming of Kali or Ishtar, or—”

I punched the mattress furiously. “It’s fucking nuts.”

“Ishtar, huh?” Baby Joe reached for my beer, drank it thoughtfully. “Well, at least she fits the job description.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Who’s laughing?” He finished the beer and leaned back on the bed. “But man, you are right, this is some crazy shit Barbie-girl has gotten herself into. And you don’t know where she is?”

“I don’t think anyone knows where she is. She must have taken off into the woods. And unless she wants to end up with Magda Kurtz, she better stay there.”

For a few minutes we sat in silence. Outside, the Shrine bells tolled five-thirty. It was already full dark. All around us, people would be getting ready for the start of another week. I took a deep breath, then asked the question I’d been waiting to ask.

“What happened to Oliver?”

“Oliver?” Baby Joe regarded me through slitted black eyes. “Oliver’s here.”

“Here?” I looked around quickly, but Baby Joe went on, “Not here in my room—I mean he’s back here in D.C. They brought him to the ER in West Virginia last night, but I guess he was okay ‘cause they just looked him over and discharged him. He came back with Warnick this morning. Hasel heard them talking, they were supposed to take him to Providence for observation—”

“Providence Hospital?”

He nodded. “To the psychiatric wing.”

“Don’t they have to get the family’s permission before they do that?”

“Hija, Warnick is his family. All the Benandanti—they come first, they take care of their own—”

“But Oliver’s not crazy.”

“Normal people don’t try to cut their dicks off with a Swiss Army knife.”

“Okay, okay.”

He lit a cigarette and smoked pensively for a moment before saying, “You know, that’s what they used to do.”

“Who? The Benandanti?”

“No. Your goddess-worshipers. In Iran or someplace. Turkey, maybe. The priests would go into some kind of ecstatic frenzy and castrate themselves.” He gave a wheezing laugh. “We read about it in Warnick’s class. You can see how church attendance might drop off after a while.”

“But—why would Oliver do that? I mean, how would he even know about it. He hasn’t been to Warnick’s class in two months.”

Baby Joe shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a big secret. It’s history, man, anyone can read about it. Maybe he and Angie, you know—she’s playing Ishtar, he’s gonna be Adonis. Talagang sirang ulo.”

I got to my feet. “I know, I know: crazy fucking bitch.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “God, I just wish I could have a decent meal and a bath and sleep for a week—”

Baby Joe put a hand on my shoulder. “Stay here, Sweeney. Really—you can have the bed, I’ll crash on the floor—”

“Oh, Baby Joe—thanks, really, thanks a lot. But I can’t. I think—I think I better go see Oliver. How far is Providence?”

“Maybe five, ten minutes on the bus.”

“Okay. Do me a favor, then. Will you call Annie and tell her where I am, and find out if she’s heard from Angelica? She’s got to come back, she can’t be out there running around the woods without her clothes—”

Baby Joe grinned. “Nice for the trees, though, huh? Yeah, I’ll call Annie.”

“Thanks.”

He followed me to the door. “You too, you know. You’re a fucking crazy bitch too, but you’re not nuts.”

He drew circles in the air beside his temple, then cocked his finger at me. “Be careful, hija. It’s the 84 bus, stops at North Cap and goes right to Providence. Five