Mr. Pacifaker’s House
“So I asked him about the room, and he told me to mind my own goddamned business, and I asked him about fairy heaven, and he said what did I care, I was never gonna get there. And I was about to walk out, and he told me to wait, and he chewed over his words, and then he said, ‘Garnet Manon, there’s bliss. There’s bliss you can’t even guess at. It’s something you give yourself, something you carry around with you, and nobody can take it away unless you let them. You let them boys deflower you. You let them take away your bliss. And that’s what I been warning you against all these years. And if you weren’t so goddamned literal-minded, you’d have figured that out years ago.’
“’So what do I do now?’ I said.
“’Take back your bliss,’ he said, ‘and keep it safe to your heart. You died in that room, Garnet Manon. You died, and you came back whole and free. Not many people get that chance. Don’t let it go to waste.’
“And then he went all cranky on me again, and said, “I’d advise you to sell the house to them Pissbyterians. Make ‘em give you twice what they offered this afternoon. Part out the truck. Then take that horse and go. This town had nothing for me, and it’s got nothing for you, either.’
“’But your house! Your room!’
“He waved his hand and snorted. ‘I don’t need that no more, Garnet Manon. I got a better place now.’”
“And then what?” asked Sarcastic Talking Horse, when she had been silent for nearly two minutes.
“And then he just disappeared.”
When she came out of the house again, it was dawn. The horse’s chestnut coat shone purple in the light. Its ribs seemed to have softened and melted beneath new flesh, sleek pelt.
It had also chewed through its tether, and walked gracefully to meet her.
“How lovely you are,” said Garnet Manon.
“What took you so long?” said Sarcastic Talking Horse.
“Mr. Pacifaker’s House” was originally published in Asimov’s (July 1995).
Copyright © 1995 by Holly Wade Matter.
