Free Antiphony by Chris Katsaropoulos

satellite television the night before. But he has not shown up today. Perhaps this is Theodore’s first true indication that things have changed in the aftermath of his speech. Pradeep is the supplicant, who comes to Theodore’s office for their daily talks, seeking wisdom from an older and wiser man. The seekers of wisdom always journey to the oracle; the oracle never travels to them. But today, Theodore cannot wait for Pradeep to appear. He must know what the reaction is to what he has said and done—he decides to get up and go to Pradeep’s office, two doors down.
    Theodore has been mentally bracing for this moment to such an extent that the sight of Pradeep sitting at his desk catches him off guard. “What is it, Pradeep—what’s wrong?” He cannot be sure, but Pradeep’s eyes have the blurred look that suggests he may have been crying.
    â€œAh, it is a… an unfortunate thing has happened. My brother,” he says, looking away towards the faint winter sunlight in the quad. “His wife is in the hospital, and he needs me to come to Pennsylvania, to help him look after the kids while he tends to her.” Pradeep cannot look at Theodore, so it is hard to tell whether he is upset about having to leave town, or something more. “She had pain, sharp pain, in the lower back. And when he took her in yesterday, they found a large tumor. They are operating now.” His dark eyes shift to look at Theodore directly,the whites of them glimmering, wet. “They will know later this morning, whether they caught it too late.”
    The way he has expressed this is typical of Pradeep—minimal, yet precise. The full meaning is there in a handful of words.
    â€œHow old are his kids?” Already, they have become his brother’s kids alone; perhaps they will not have a mother soon. Theodore asks this question as a way of shifting the topic incrementally away from the chief concern, ratcheting back one notch towards practical matters and the effect this will have on Pradeep. “Maybe Julie can go.” Julie is Pradeep’s wife. In stating this, he lets Pradeep know that he understands Pradeep is torn by the idea of having to leave town at a critical time, on the eve of the Board Meeting.
    â€œI have to go. My brother asked me.” Saying this, Pradeep brings his eyes back to peer at Theodore, slowly, deliberately judging his reaction, and, what Theodore can’t help but think, given the situation the two of them are enduring this week, sizing him up, his competitor, his adversary. An opponent brusquely shaking hands at the middle of a playing field before the silver coin is tossed in the air and the contest begins. Then, Theodore sees that something else is enfolded within the numb, forthright expectancy of Pradeep’s glaring eyes.
    â€œOne night, when I was a boy, fifteen years old, my father died.” The words are flat, toneless, recited as if Pradeep were reading them from a teleprompter. “Because I was the oldest son, I had to be the chief mourner, the one who was responsible for preparing his body for cremation.” He sucks in a breath, so more words can come out. “I did what they told me to do,placed him on the floor with his head pointing south, lit the oil lamp and placed it next to him. I touched him only enough to move him, into the proper position, as the ritual requires; facing south, the direction of the dead.” He blinks once and keeps his eyes closed for a moment, either shutting out a vision or shielding it from expression, so it will not come out as words.
    â€œI had to walk to the center of the village, where the well was, to fetch two buckets of water so that I could bathe his body. When I got to the well, the whole village was silent. It was pitch dark, after midnight. The kind of darkness we never have here, in the city. When I looked into the well, the water black and still, there were two brilliant stars