Close Work

Daedalia: Chapter 23

Daedalia is a serialized novel, with a new chapter released every Monday morning. The story is designed to unfold slowly, the days in between, a space for it to settle into your imagination. Each chapter is a 10–15 minute read/listen. Check out the Table of Contents if you want to jump to a specific chapter. Want something to binge while you wait? Three novels, complete with audio narration are ready for you to dive in.

Previously…

Marabelle returned from North Carolina to find Kelly frayed and overcompensating. Lefty shouted little Marabelle out of the shed before she could see what was on a new canvas Kelly had painted. A brief pocket of closeness followed at Disneyland, but it ended abruptly when Kelly learned that Fiodor had died in his cell. Marabelle never learned what was on the canvas.

The following transcript is an excerpt from an interview with Lefty Moody on August 4, 2034.

LM: Are you recording all these?

MM: Yeah, because I want to get it right. What, why are you smiling?

LM: Nothing, sweetheart. I think it’s a noble pursuit to get things right, but you’re interviewing the wrong person for that.

MM: Maybe, but you’re all I’ve got now.

LM: You’ll get it right because whatever goes into the story will have to go through your beautiful brain first.

MM: Do you think I’m like her?

LM: No, thank God. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean to say your mom was haunted most every day of her life. That’s why she had to run away sometimes. I don’t think you have that.

MM: What did you do when she disappeared the second time?

LM: I don’t know exactly. She was always disappearing and I never got used to it.

MM: I think there’s a reason for that. It was kind of in the contract the two of you made for her to be gone. I’m sorry. That sounded harsh, but isn’t it a little bit true?

LM: I suppose it is, but you’re kind of an asshole for stating it so plainly.

MM: I can accept that, but you agreed to all this. What was it she said just before she died? “No more secrets.”

LM: That’s right. Why do I get the feeling this is going to be an interrogation? I can see there’s something you want to ask me, so just spit it out.

MM: Greta. She started showing up a lot when I was ten. You were with her, weren’t you? She wasn’t just a business associate.

LM: Why do you need to ask a question you already know the answer to?

MM: I need to hear you say it. I need to understand.

LM: It didn’t start out that way. In the beginning Greta was just someone who showed me the ropes of the art world. But when your mom left that second time, something kind of broke. I really wasn’t sure she would come back. I was pissed at her and I was lonely. You remember it was just me and you for months, right?

MM: Yeah, I remember. Did Kelly not say where she was going?

LM: No, she didn’t say. These things were never debates or even conversations. When she reached that point, I understood she was drowning and there was nothing I could do except give her space.

MM: It was more than a year, right? She missed my tenth birthday. I remember her gift showing up in the mail and I didn’t want to open it.

LM: I’m not sure it was that long, but you’re right about your birthday. The gift sat on the floor of your room for months. You wanted me to give it to Maria’s niece.

MM: So, Greta?

LM: Greta was my escape. Your mom had hers and I had mine. Jesus, this is kind of horrible to dredge up. Were you really just ten? You always seemed so much older. You just took everything in stride. I’m sorry.

MM: It’s fine. Ancient history now. Please tell me about that time period. I want to understand what you were both going through.

LM: I can tell you the facts, but I’m not going to go into details about my affair with Greta. You’re a grown person. Use your imagination. I’ve read your books. I’m sure whatever you write will end up better than what it really was.

MM: What was it really?

LM: A poor substitute for what I really wanted. When you make a life with someone who’s always having a conversation in her head with someone else, you get tired of being a third wheel. Heh, I guess that’s not really a thing, is it?

MM: No, a third wheel keeps things from tipping over.

LM: Well, I guess that’s a good way to describe me then. But I did get tired of being the support.

MM: What did she get tired of?

LM: You should read that for yourself.

MM: What do you mean?

LM: I’ve been holding onto something for a while out of respect for your mother because I’m not sure what she would have wanted. I know the two of you talked a lot in her final days. Did she ever mention her journals?

MM: She never offered them. I know she kept them secret, like so much else.

LM: I have them all and I think she would have wanted you to see them. It’s a lot, but you’ve taken on this project and you’ve said you want to get it right. I’m worried you can’t do that unless you read them.

MM: Okay. I’m a little scared. Just thinking about what’s in there scares me.

LM: What scares you more, that you will learn that she was human or that she was more than that?

MM: Both. She really believed she had some magical power. That’s crazy. You know that, right? After all these years, you know that. She didn’t kill Fiodor Barkowski because she made a painting in her shed.

LM: I’m old enough now to accept there’s a lot I don’t understand, and will never be able to see because my eyes aren’t equipped. Octopuses have a brain in each tentacle. This crazy little shrimp, the mantis shrimp, can see millions of colors or something crazy. Birds and butterflies know how to migrate to places on the other side of the world. We call things crazy that we don’t understand.

MM: Okay, it’s clear you’ve been watching too much National Geographic. But I know what you mean. Did some part of you envy her ability?

LM: Of course. The only thing I ever did in my life that came close to what she could do was throw a ball really fast. But that’s not really the same, is it?

MM: Did you ever study her when she was working, try to figure out what she was doing?

LM: Sure I did. There was even a time when she tried to teach me.

MM: How did that work?

LM: How do you think? She was a terrible teacher, but I didn’t give her much to work with. Looking back, I wish that I had filmed her, you know like these kids do today with time-lapse photography. I can see her in my mind, the way she held her pen. There were times when I would sit in the studio and just watch her work. She would forget I was there. Her hand would be moving so fast with such purpose and certainty, making tens of thousands of choices in an hour with each tiny stroke of her pen. It’s like she was that octopus I talked about earlier with a separate brain in her hand. You realize she started to draw with her left hand because her right would cramp too much? You know how hard that is?

I saw a video the other day at one of those machines. What are they called? They have a little nib that shoots out plastic and they can make these incredibly complex objects.

MM: You mean a 3D printer.

LM: Yeah, that’s it. That’s what it was like watching her work. Most artists work for a while and then step back from the canvas to get the full perspective. I’m sure she must have too, but I don’t remember that being part of her process. How do you explain that? How do you explain what she was able to create without at least stepping back to see the whole thing once in a while?

MM: I don’t know. It’s one of many things I want to understand about her. When I read about all these people who are scholars of her work, I get jealous, like they knew her better than me. Isn’t that ridiculous?

LM: They didn’t know your mother, sweetie. They study her work and see what they want to see. She was hard to know. I’m not sure if she really even knew herself. I know how much she loved you, even if she didn’t always know how to show it. I’m gonna give you the trunk of her journals. Maybe they’ll help.

MM: Have you read them?

LM: I’ve tried, but it’s just too painful for me now.

MM: You don’t think she would mind me having them?

LM: I don’t think so. I think she wanted to be known, don’t you? It’s what we all want, to be known, especially by the people we love.

MM: It’s funny, the whole thing. I mean, there’s probably very few people on the planet who haven’t seen her work at this point and literally none of them knew who she was even though they think they did. You created this placeholder for her and people could just fill in the blank.

LM: Yeah, I guess that’s something people need more than I ever anticipated they would.

MM: Why do you think that is?

LM: I don’t know. Maybe the same reason we need God or Santa Claus.

MM: You’re talking about belief, about faith. You believed in her.

LM: I did, but I also knew the real person, just like you did. She wasn’t an idea. She wasn’t a witch. She was my partner, my wife, your mother. What? What did I say?

MM: Nothing, Dad. I just… I don’t know. I’m just so sad because I feel like I always missed her, like she was more an idea than anything else to me. I wanted more. I know that’s not fair. But I wanted more time. And now… now she’s really gone and I’ll never get that time.

LM: I know sweetie. I’m sorry. But you were always there with her. She carried you with her, wherever she went. Read her journals.

« Previous | Table of Contents | Next »

Did this chapter take you in? Leave a ❤️ below to help fellow travelers find it. Speaking of fellow travelers, a lot of friendships have started in the comments of my serials.