ON THE PHONE WITH VELMA #4

JUSTIN: Hello.

VELMA: Sweetheart! It’s Velma.

J: Hey Velma! What’s up?

V: I hear you’ve been gettin’ cozy with my Nicky.

J: Yeah, well if you call two emails, cozy.

V: He hates it when I call him Nicky. He’s all work. No fun. But I guess that’s good in an assistant, huh?

J: Sounds like it would be. I wouldn’t know. I don’t have one.

V: Real smart kid though.

J: He seems it.

V: Anyway, he’s been printing me out some of the entries. What a gas to read them in print. I still think I sounded like a square, but whatta ya gonna do. Hey, everyone thinks they’re important when they’re 19, right?

J: God knows, I did.

V: Right, wait till you start hitting the stuff in the 50’s. I thought I was freakin’ Virginia Woolf. It’s tough to hold onto. All thoughts, none of the depression.

J: Great, it should only take me about 5 years to get there.

V: Tell me about it. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll be dead by time you finish ’31.

J: Ha, ha. Not unless you plan on dying by the end of the month.

V: Sweetheart, it could be by the end of the day.

J: Oh stop.

V: The reason why I’m calling, if you can believe there’s a reason, is for you to come and get these letters.

J: Yes, I’d be happy to do it.

V: I just feel nervous putting these things in the mail since they were hand-delivered to me.

J: Not a problem.

V: What days are good for you?

J: I’m usually off Fridays.

V: That’s a nice racket.

J: Yeah it is. It’s the only time I really get to work on the blog.

V: I see.

J: Also, next Tuesday I’m in Washington Heights so I could drop by then.

V: Why don’t you come up on Friday? Meet me at the Peace Fountain at one o'clock. That’s where I eat my lunch.

J: Even in February?

V: Especially in February. Do you want me to bring some lunch for you? Strike that! I am. Don’t eat before you come.

J: Really, don’t worry—

V: Clamp it! I make a mean tuna fish. Bring Courtney if you want.

J: She probably has to work, but I’ll ask her.

V: Good, she can sketch me. I’d love to cause a scene in public.

J: I bet.

V: Alright kiddo, gotta run. See you on Friday.

J: Yup. Have a good one.

V: Bye now.

J: Bye.

November 18, 1931

Yesterday's surprise was a trip to the top of the Empire State Building. Dottie and Sarah both decided to pool their resources for the outing. We traveled down to 34th street on the IRT. I had no clue as to our destination. When we stepped off the train, I immediately noticed the grandness of the building not thinking it had anything to do with the surprise. Walking down the street I couldn't help but be in awe of the structure looming over the entire neighborhood. Then to see it so close in front of me made me dizzy. It was Biblical in scope.

When we stopped right in front of the entrance Dottie shouted: "Surprise, we got you a building for your birthday. I know it's a bit big, but who couldn't use the space nowadays, right?"

I laughed. Sarah took me by the hand. "No such luck sweetheart. We found it a bit pricey. You'll have to settle for a trip to the top and dinner."

"You Jews are such downers," Dottie said.

"You Italians are such liars," Sarah retorted.

"We're dreamers," She snarled.

Being a Protest of Anglican heritage I had little to offer.

Admission to the observation deck was a dollar a piece, which I thought steep, but Sarah and Dottie both insisted they pay. Rumor has it that, because of the Depression, most of the building's offices are vacant and the only income is from tourists going to the observation deck.

The lobby was extremely modern. Very bold and metallic; clean and rigid. After paying the admission we were shuffled into a large elevator with about eight other people. The speed at which the elevator traveled to the 86th floor was dizzying. I'm not sure I've ever been on anything that went so fast. Sarah thought she was going to vomit and Dottie said it felt like a night out without the night out.

The observation deck was on the 86th floor. There was another deck on the 102nd floor but it was reserved for air traffic only. Apparently dirigibles will be able to dock and unload passengers up there.

When walked outside not one of us could speak. Our mouths dropped wide open at what we saw. It seemed like the entire planet was below us. My first thought was being on Olympus looking down on Earth. Both Sarah and Dottie immediately looked south to find their homes. I looked out as far as I could to the ocean.

"I can see Bay Ridge! I wonder if ma could hear me?" Dottie said laughing.

"Most of the world has never been this high off the ground before. Can you imagine?" Sarah said. "If only I had my damn camera."

I saw the Brooklyn Bridge and I thought of Rudy. I looked beyond it to the speck that was the Statue of Liberty and then the open water.

We stood in awe for some time before Dottie interjected, "I'm freezing and I have to piss. Time to go."

After riding down to ground level. We saw to it that Dottie was relieved and then ate supper at a diner around the corner. I had a hamburger and a chocolate egg cream from the fountain. Both Dottie and Sarah swear by them. I was dumbfounded to learn that it wasn't made with eggs or cream.

November 17, 1931

My 19th birthday today. I've been told there's a surprise outing planned by Sarah and Dottie. Strangely enough I heard it from Abby after one of our literature classes. I think she was intent on ruining the surprise, but I walked away before she could say anything more. Thus, I'm to know nothing about the location till I arrive.

A package arrived first thing this morning by post from Saratoga sent by mother and dad. In it was a new dress, blue, and a box of my favorite mint tea. There was a note of well-wishes from the whole family, which I found touching. Even Henry said he missed me around the house.

Not all that much to report about yesterday's delivery. I did take a cab down to the site of #1 Wall Street. The building is near completion and will be 50 storeys when completed. It is extremely modern, yet almost cathedral-like in appearance. It stands directly across the street from Trinity Church, which I did not take the time to walk into, unfortunately.

There was a fairly tall man in his, I would say, early 50's waiting for me in the entry-way. He said nothing to me. Only motioned for me to come closer to him. He displayed a small box wrapped in brown paper. I simply handed him the envelope of presumed money. He winked. I looked to the ground. He said simply, "Tell the Professor, there's more if he wants to take a look." His voice was deep and rough.

"I will," I said quietly among the sound of drills and hammers.

"You must be the new messenger?"

"I am." I said wanting to offer up nothing more.

"They are making quite a fuss over you." He looked me over in a way that made me very uncomfortable. "I can see why." He smiled.

I quickly placed the package in my satchel, "Good day," I said and ran to Broadway.

No matter now. I need to get ready for my surprise jaunt.

Me and Mr. Fish

You might remember an email exchange between myself and Velma's assistant, Nick Fish. In his email he promised Velma's completed profile and letters from the Tulip family. To date I have received neither. I decided to gently remind him. He was quick to respond.

My email:

Nick,

Hey, it's Justin the "blogger." Hope all is well with you. Just wondering what happened to Velma's profile and the Tulip family letters. Please let me know if there is any way I can help to expedite the delivery process. If the mailing hasn't occurred, I am frequently in Upper Manhattan and would be happy to come by Velma's office to pick the materials up.

Let me know and have a good one.

Best,
Justin


Nick's response (which came 22 minutes later):

Justin,

My sincerest apologies for not contacting you sooner about the letters. When I last spoke to Velma about the mailing, she seemed hesitant to put the fragile documents in the mail. They were hand-delivered by a member of the family as to avoid damage. The letters begin in the 1930's so the paper is disintegrating. Velma asked me to contact you on the matter two weeks ago, but seeing as we've been swamped here with various other obligations, it honestly slipped my mind.

It might be best for you to come and pick up the letters in person. I think Velma will feel more comfortable with that arrangement. Plus, I'm sure she would love to see you. Let me speak to her on the matter and get back to you with a time and place.

Again, I apologize. Enjoy your weekend.

Sincerely,

Nick Fish

November 15, 1931

Dream:

I could vividly feel the same blue feather that I was holding from my dream a few weeks prior. I was walking down a city street and came upon, what looked to be, a huge stone temple from ancient times. For some reason I was drawn into this place. When I entered it was completely dark. I had no sense of direction. I felt as though I was walking into a void and then the girl came. The one with the tattered bonnet, who gave me the feather. She grabbed my hand and we went tumbling through the dark.

I am recording this as I have just woken. The seeming reality of these dreams are beginning to frighten me. The image of this pale girl is disturbing. Not sure how to proceed.

I am off to Loockersmans's office this morning. Harold dropped a note in my campus letter box saying there is a delivery to be made.



Late Morning

Have returned from Loockersmans's with a thick, soft envelope to be delivered to a man named Harry Basset. He will be waiting for me at the construction site of 1 Wall Street. I am also supposed to receive something. By the feel of it, I would say I am carrying money to this man.

This does not sit well with me.

November 8, 1931

Received a letter from mother today. She said that fall in Saratoga has gone by slowly and has been especially cold. She has taken on additional time at the spa to bring in more money for the upcoming holiday, but the customers have been fewer and fewer. There was also a note saying that my father is proud of me for taking on a side job even with my studies. He has always been my biggest champion. If only he knew the people I were working for. If only I knew the people I were working for. Each one has seemed nice enough, but that speech from Mr. Rapalje seemed like nonsense talk. Perhaps these Lightkeepers have an inflated sense of purpose. Perhaps they’re a cult.

Mother also mentioned that she saw my good friend Darla Lowe at the grocery the other day and she mentioned her engagement to our classmate Douglas Bradley. The opportunity was taken by mother to remind me that a woman of my age should be concerned with finding a husband and raising a family. In my return letter, I will respond to her comment with only a note of congratulations to Darla. I doubt mother and I will ever see eye-to-eye as women.

After starting this job, I have been dreaming again. I am having trouble remembering whole dreams, but I know images have been racing about in my head. Perhaps I shouldn’t read so much before I sleep. Dottie says she never remembers her dreams. Of course, she never remembers most of her waking hours past 8 PM.

November 5, 1931

We drove down a street called Henry which was lined with tall trees and admirable townhouses all different in their architecture. Behind the houses I could see the entire southern tip of Manhattan. We stopped at a large house set on the corner of Henry and another street who's name I found strange: Joralemon. There were two giant gas lamps on either side of the door both lit even though it was 2 in the afternoon.

When we pulled up Rudy said, "That's Mr. Jack's house." He pulled over got out of the car and opened the door for me.

"Thank you," I said.

"Anytime for such a pretty young lady." His cigar was still smoking. "Just knock on da door. I gotta park the car over in da garage around da corna."

"Ok, Thank you, Rudy." I walked over to the large door and saw a gold eagle's head in the center with a ring in its beak. I used it to knock and almost immediately a man as tall as myself answered. There was a large smoking pipe in his mouth, large circular tortoise-shell glasses over his eyes and a perfectly cut head of silver hair. His eyes were a captivating blue and his smile was immediately warm.

"Ms. Graydon?"

"Yes, I am here to see-"

"Me. You're here to see me. Jack Rapalje. Welcome. Come in." He motioned his hand inside. I walked through with my satchel in hand. The first thing I noticed was the smell of coffee lingering under the cherry of his pipe. It was delightful. "Is this your first time in Brooklyn?"

"Yes, sir."

"What do you think so far?"

"Nothing like I expected. It's breathtaking, really."

"Well this is only the start of it. There's much more further south of us. Come, follow me." He walked in front of me. We passed into a long hallway lined with large portraits of women and men from a bygone age. At the end long hall was the only open door. It led into a large, bright room. The ceilings were impossibly high and the large windows looked out onto New York Harbor and the south of Manhattan. It was a view much like the one from the Brooklyn Bridge. One that was distractingly beautiful. "Please Ms. Graydon, have a seat." He motioned to one of two chairs opposite his desk. On the top of his desk was another old looking lantern, similar to the one in Loockersmans office, but this one was larger.

"Thank you, Mr. Rapalje."

"Enough of that," he said. "Call me Jack. You'd never think it by my surroundings or the company I keep, but I despise formality." He looked at me as I opened my satchel and delivered the document to him. "Thank you. You may not realize it, but this was extremely important." He opened the envelope and looked at the document. "Welcome aboard, Ms. Graydon."

"Thank you sir. I'm not exactly sure what I'm aboard at the moment."

"Right, and I suppose that's my job."

"So I was told."

He smiled. "Would you like some coffee? I'm sure Caroline sat and drank tea with you like a real lady."

"We did, yes."

"Well here you get coffee. Of course I have tea if you want it."

"No, no, coffee is fine."

"Great." He smiled. "RUDY!"

"YEAH," I heard Rudy's voice from down the hall. "Two cups of coffee, bring some cream and sugar for Ms. Velma. He calls you Ms. Velma right?"

I chuckled. "Yes."

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all," I said.

"You may notice the aching absence of a wife here."

"I hadn't actually."

"There isn't one. There was mother, then the war, then mother until she died. I never had the time to find one and now look at me, old. Of course you don't need to know all this." There was a pause because I awkwardly said nothing. "Ok, so this is how it goes around here. This document you delivered was an approval of your employment. You have officially been approved by the top three members of a society as old as the Dutch settlement of this fair city. We call ourselves the Lightkeepers, for reasons too involved to get into at the moment. You, Ms. Graydon, have been earmarked in a process also too involved to get into at the moment, as someone gifted not only in the art of languages, but also in the art of perception. Is this true?"

I was dumbfounded. "Well, I don't know if that's--"

"Right! You don't realize your gifts yet. That's fine. It's all part of the process."

I knew I was blushing at the thought of me being gifted in anything.

"You speak, French, Spanish, Latin, and ancient Greek. You are learning Dutch, I've heard at an accelerated speed."

"I do hope so."

"RUDY, THE COFFEE!" He yelled behind him.

"I'M MAKING A FRESH POT, MR. JACK,"

"Ms. Graydon, we need you. Not so much the you now, but the you you will become."

I froze with fear. I was hoping this man would unravel the mystery of the past few months, but he seemed to be shrouding it even further. "I honestly, don't understand all this."

"Of course you don't. I can't rightfully explain it to you and I won't have to. All you need to know is, there is a time coming upon us that will be dark and dangerous. It will threaten not only the balance of this city, but the entire world." He pointed to the lantern on his desk. "We are holding the light that can get us through it safely." Then he pointed at me. "You, Ms. Graydon, are the spark."

Rudy plowed into the office. "I got your coffee here."

"Finally," Jack said.

"Hey, next time don't give Rosey da day off. I'm not a good homemaker."

"How do you take your coffee, Ms. Graydon?" Jack asked.

"Mr. Jack, she looks green."

Jack chuckled. "I just told her she has to help us save the world."

"Ah, all in a day's work around here, Ms. Velma," Rudy said slamming the coffee on the desk.

I wanted to pass out.