“Now, Marty, don’t mouth off at me. I hate it when a woman has a foul mouth. I thought you were so sweet and helpless when you first came to me, but then you talked filth. You opened your pretty mouth and filth spewed out. And your poor husband. No wonder he drinks-anything to escape that horrible language. And you put him down, you tell the world how horrible he is just because he was unlucky enough to marry you.”
“I might spew out bad words, but at least I’m not a fucking psycho like you. What do you want, Marlin? What is this string bit?”
His voice was now a soft singsong, a gentle monotone, as if he were seeing himself as an omniscient god and she as a child gone astray, to be led back. Led back to hell. “I’ll tell you everything when you find the center of the maze, Marty. I build props just like you do only I’m better because I’ve done it more. I want you to come in now, Marty. You’ll win when you find the center of the maze. Even though you say bad things, you’ll still win if you find the center. I’ll be timing you, Marty. Time’s always important. You can’t forget about the time. Come along, now, you’ve got to come in or else I’ll have to punish you right now. Find the center, Marty, or you won’t like what I’ll do to you.”
“How much time do I have to get to the center of the maze so you won’t punish me?”
The gentle monotone was now tinged with impatience. “You ask too many questions, Marty.”
“I’ll find the center if you’ll tell me why the string bit.”
“How else am I supposed to get you to come here? I didn’t want to paint signs. That would have been too obvious. FOLLOW THE ARROWS. That’s tacky. The string is neat. It’s tantalizing. Now my patience is running out, Marty. Come into the maze.”
There was sudden anger now, cold and hard. “Marty? What are you doing?”
“My sneaker was untied. I was just tying it. I don’t want to trip over myself.”
“It didn’t look to me like you were tying your sneaker. Come on now or I’ll have to do something you won’t like at all.”
“I’m coming.” She walked through the narrow entrance into a narrow corridor of six-foot-high sheets of plywood, painted green to simulate yew bushes. She came to an intersection. Four choices. She took the far-left turn. It led her to a dead end.
He laughed. “Wrong choice, Marty. Just maybe if you didn’t curse so much, God would have let you find the right way to go. Maybe if you weren’t so mean to your poor husband, God wouldn’t have brought you to me. Try again. I’m getting impatient.”
But he wasn’t at all impatient; she realized it in that instant. He was relishing every moment. The longer it took her to get to the center, the more he enjoyed himself.
“You’re slow, Marty. You’d best hurry. Don’t forget about the time. I told you that time was important.”
She could hear the excitement in his voice, unleashed now, feel the stirring of his excitement in the air around her. It nauseated her. She couldn’t wait to see him.
She backtracked and took another turn. This one also led to a dead end. On the third try, she picked the right path. There was only a small pool of light around her, never varying, never growing brighter or dimmer. She hit another dead end off a wrong turn. She heard his breathing quicken; his excitement was peaking. She was close to the center of the maze now.
She stopped and called out, “Why a maze, Marlin? Why do you want me to find the center of a maze?”
His voice trembled, he was so excited. No one had asked him this before. He was bursting to tell her. “It’s like finding your way to your own soul, Marty. There are lots of wrong turns and dead ends, but if you’re good enough, if you try hard enough, you’ll eventually come to the center of your soul and then you’ll know the truth of who and what you are.”