The Spaces Between (A Drunkard's Journey) by Martin Gibbs Read Free Book Online Page A

wanted to be by Fa. At the end maybe he could see me. I did not want to leave. But I did not want to be alone with Ma. She cried too much. I could follow Fa.
    I—thank you. Thank you. For now you must get out to the field where the stone slab is. That is where they are going. Observe, but do not be seen! See if you can find a way into the Tunnels.
    “Tunnels?”
    Yes, that man who visited you. He did come through the stone. It leads to the Tunnels of Woe that lead far under the ground. To faraway places. They are safe. See, your father and you will be safe—but somehow you must get in. But you can’t go with them and they will shut the gate behind them. Find a way. There must be.
    “Find a way.”
    And Bimb?
    “Yes?” Eight-ten-twelve-fifteen . That was a high note to play. I had another sutan cut to play high notes. High notes were fun.
    I will have to try to visit you when you don’t play.
    “I don’t understand.” Seventeen…very hard to play. I stretched and made the note. I could not get back to the chord. Start over.
    Right now you can talk to me when you play, but soon you will not be able to play for a while, at least not all the time, in order for you to help me.
    “I can’t play?”
    Later. Later. You will play, but later. Can you let me in without playing?
    “I can try.”
    It had better work.
    I played a high chord. Then I moved to the low one. It worked.
    He left.
    I did not want Fa to leave. I did not want Lyn to visit. I had to have Lyn visit. He said I had to. If I wanted to see Fa. I could not talk to Fa. I would miss Fa. I loved Fa. I loved the sutan. Would he come without the notes? He did not come without the notes.
    I was scared. I wanted the spicy drink.
    I played more chords.
     
    * * *
     
    After a long time, Fa came back. My song was almost done. The last chords did not sound right. I changed them. I had to tune it a little. It was hard to keep ten strings sounding nice.
    “Son?” Fa sounded sad.
    I played. Three-eight-five, four-nine-six .
    “Son?”
    “What Fa?” I did not look at him. I knew he was leaving. I was sad. He cannot know that you know!
    “Son, please put that down for a moment.”
    I looked up. He looked sad. “Why are you sad, Fa?”
    “I’m—I have to go away for a little while. With these men. Something is broken and needs to be fixed.”
    “Broken like the wagon?”
    “What wagon?” Something was wet in his eyes.
    “The wagon you picked up.”
    He smiled at me. “Yes, son, like that. Only this is a much bigger wagon I need to pick up. These men cannot do it alone. I need to help them. I hope I won’t be gone too long.”
    “Is it far away?”
    “Yes, very far. But they tell me the trip goes faster…with them.”
    “How far?”
    “Many miles.”
    “How many? Fifty? One hundred? Three hundred and twenty-six and a fifth?”
    Fa laughed. I liked his laugh. He laughed when I said big numbers. He was not making fun. Fa loved me and thought I was smart to know big numbers. I smiled. “More than that.”
    More than that? I was sad.
    “Will you ever come home?” My eyes were wet.
    Fa’s eyes were wet, too, more wet now. “Yes, son I will. You need to be strong and take care of Ma. See she gets her powders and her rest. You can be a strong man, right? I have wood stacked for the winter, but I hope to be home before it is over.”
    Winter would be cold without Fa. “Why do you have to go?”
    “Son, sometimes we have to do things that are bigger than ourselves. We have to help others when they are in trouble. Living here, I have always known I might have to help people like this. Now it is time.”
    “Even Ugly Nose?”
    “Ugly…Nose?”
    “The old man. Ugly Nose.”
    Fa laughed softly. “Yes, even him. He is a nice man, Bimb, there is no need to be afraid of him.”
    “I don’t like him.”
    “That is all right, son, that is all right. He won’t hurt us or anyone.” He looked at me a long time. I looked at my sutan. I was sad. “Be strong,