The Trinity Game

exchanged a double-handshake, making crossroads with their forearms. The other women did the same, and then swayed with the drums as the old man took two handfuls of cornmeal from the altar and used the cornmeal to “paint” a veve on the ground. He leaned forward and kissed the veve three times.

Priestess Ory reached into the wicker basket as the group sang, “Damballah Wedo, Damballah Wedo, Damballah Wedo…” She lifted a young boa constrictor, about four feet in length, from the basket, held it above her head, and danced backwards around the center pole, pausing so each participant could touch the snake. Ory sang, “Damballah Wedo…Nous sommes les sevite…Ti Ginen.” She returned the snake gently to the basket and closed the lid, then danced with a beaded gourd in her hands as the intensity of the drumming climbed ever higher, growing into a hypnotic polyrhythm.

Ory chanted…

Odu Legba, Papa Legba,

Open the door, your children are waiting.

Papa Legba, open the door,

Your children await.

Ago! Legba! Ago-e!

And the congregation responded…

Ayibobo!

The old man lit a corncob pipe and made the sign of the crossroads in the air with its smoke, then lifted the plates of food offerings for Legba and passed them through the center, inviting Papa Legba to take possession, reciting in French: “Legba, qui guarde la porte. Mystere des carrefours, source de communication entre le visible et l’invisible. Acceptez nos offrandes. Entrez dans nos bras, dans nos jambes, dans nos coeurs. Entrez ici.”

Ory took a swig of rum straight from the bottle and sprayed it from her mouth, soaking Legba’s cornmeal veve. She then whirled around the pole, shaking the gourd over each initiate, and they joined the whirling dance, around and around, intentionally scattering Legba’s veve with their feet as they passed. Ory picked up a handful of the rum-soaked cornmeal, daubing it on the forehead of each, except for the old man, who she touched on the back of the neck.

The old man closed his eyes and stood stock still for a few seconds, jerked spasmodically, threw his head back, and laughed very loud. He snatched a bottle from the altar, took a large swig, then poured the rest of the rum over his head, over his face, and even into his open eyes with no sign of discomfort. He then grabbed a carved walking stick and the smoldering corncob pipe and danced around the pole, twirling the stick and puffing madly on the pipe, sending up clouds of cherry-flavored smoke, dancing faster still as the drummers jacked up the tempo and the initiates sang praises to Papa Legba.

Priestess Ory came over and took up Daniel and Trinity’s mugs. “Papa Legba has opened the crossroads to us,” she explained. “We drink once more to his honor, and then I will paint Shango’s veve and invite him to take possession of my body. If he speaks directly to you, don’t be alarmed. His voice may come from my mouth or it may manifest in your mind’s ear, so listen for it.”

But there was something wrong about the way she said it. Daniel had seen a lot of religious grifters over the years, had grown up with one of the best, and until a minute ago Ory had seemed completely sincere. But that last line, about Shango speaking directly to Trinity…she seemed to be selling it.

He stole a glance at his uncle as Ory took their mugs to the altar. Trinity was moving with the drumbeat, a serene smile on his face, like everything was right with the world.

And now there was something wrong about the way Ory refilled their mugs at the altar, the way she turned her back to them…like she was purposely blocking their view.

Daniel shifted to his left in order to see.

The rum bottle was in her right hand…but something else was concealed in her left, hovering over Trinity’s mug.

An eyedropper.

Daniel’s heart filled with despair. Had he really seen that? Was she really spiking Trinity’s drink with something?

Damn. He really had, and she really was.

Priestess Ory returned with the mugs and handed them over. She raised her own mug. “To Legba!” She drank.

Daniel slapped the mug out of Trinity’s hand just before it reached his mouth.

The drumming followed from the backyard as Daniel stormed through the gate and toward the car, digging the keys from his pocket.

“I don’t know what you’re so riled over,” said Tim Trinity from behind. “It wasn’t poison, she put it in her own drink as well.”

Daniel stopped in the middle of the front lawn and spun around. “You knew?”

“Hey, remember who you’re talkin’ to, son. I’ve seen all the moves.” Trinity smiled. “I may play a yokel on TV, but very little gets by me.”

“But you were gonna drink it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a con, that’s why. Because the woman is just another grifter.”

Angelica Ory stepped out from behind Trinity. “Watch your mouth, boy. Grifter? Did I ever once ask you for money? Did I even mention money?”

“Mama Anne, let me apologize for my nephew,” said Trinity.

“Excuse me?” said Daniel. “I didn’t slip drugs in your drink, I have nothing to apologize for.”

“Before you make an even bigger ass of yourself,” said Priestess Ory, handing him a small tincture bottle. “Extracts of passionflower, mugwort, kava-kava, and wormwood. All natural ingredients used by indigenous root doctors for thousands of years.”

“And hallucinogenic,” he said.

“Sure, if you drink about a cup of the stuff. We use about twenty drops. At most, it enhances your sense of connectedness to the world, boosts your awareness of your own mental imagery, and causes a slight numbing of the tongue.”

“Loa-in-a-bottle,” said Daniel, handing it back to her. “Very clever.”

“It is an aid to spiritual insight. It does not render that insight false.” She sighed deeply. “We agreed that the goal was for Tim to receive what I provide. You may not like it, but this is it.”

“Exactly right,” said Trinity. “You can wait in the car. I’m going back in for my date with Mr. Shango.”

Ory shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tim. You left the peristyle in the middle of a possession. You walked out on Papa Legba. The crossroads are no longer open to you tonight…and I don’t think he’ll open them again to you any time soon, after such disrespect.”

Daniel could not detect any insincerity in her at all. He didn’t know what to think. He said, “So you actually believe that old man in there is possessed by Legba?”

“What does it matter? He believes it, and I believe he gets something of value from it. Daniel, you’re looking for absolute knowledge about the ultimate reality of the universe. I don’t have that knowledge. Nobody does. What I have is faith. And what I do know is, people have an inborn need to believe in the spirit, and ritual helps sustain that belief. And that is what I provide.”

Daniel gestured toward the sound of the drums. “So all this is just a ritual to sustain belief in something we can’t understand. That seems pretty hollow to me.”

“Not hollow at all,” said Priestess Ory. “It’s healing, and it’s very human. Listen, I didn’t come up in Voodoo, I was raised a good Catholic girl, but I always knew I wanted to be a healer of some kind. I tried the conventional route, got a PhD in clinical psychology at Loyola, spent fifteen years as a therapist. Fifteen years of frustration…