Strange Girl (17 page)

“Why has it taken me so long to take you out on a real date?” I said.

“You were just waiting until I could pay.”

“Was that a joke? I didn’t think the Big Person cracked jokes.”

“I might be developing some Little Person.”

“You think?” I teased her.

Aja hesitated, although her eyes were bright as she looked at me. “Yes. And I think you’re the cause,” she said.

“Well, at least I’m good for something.” The menus came and we opened them. “What are you in the mood for?”

“At home I ate a lot of fish,” she said. It was the first time I’d heard her refer to Selva as home.

“What kind of fish?”

“Whatever I caught in the river.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Here, tonight, we’re in a fancy restaurant. Here they cook the fish and serve it on a clean plate. You won’t have to get your hands wet, or bloody. Hey, look, they have swordfish. I love swordfish. Would you like that?”

“That would be good.”

Dinner was lazy, fun, delicious, and wonderful. If other people in the restaurant were gossiping about us I didn’t care. Aja got me talking about my music and, again, I suppose, I monopolized the conversation, which was easy to do around her. I didn’t bring up all the chatter about her “healings” and frankly I was glad that she appeared to have no interest in discussing the matter. The time flew by and at some point I realized we’d missed our movie. I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was stare into Aja’s eyes and hear her voice. I can’t remember ever having so much fun.

During dessert, we were interrupted. A thin, Japanese woman in an exotic red dress and a Japanese man in an Armani tux came up to our table. The woman led the charge; the man appeared reluctant to approach us. At the same time, the woman seemed nervous.

“I’m sorry but I need to speak to you,” the woman said to Aja. “I know who you are. I’ve read about you. It’s about my daughter. She’s very ill, she has leukemia. She’s had three courses of chemo but it keeps coming back. The doctors say there’s nothing else they can do. Her name is Keko.” She fumbled to open a tiny, red purse. “I was wondering if I could show you her picture.”

I stood. “I don’t know what you’ve heard or read but my friend can’t help you. Please, if you could just leave us alone. I don’t mean to be rude. Truly, I am sorry about your daughter.”

The woman persisted. “You don’t understand, Keko is dying! The doctors have given her only two months to live. She needs help.” The woman shook as she stared at Aja. “She needs you.”

Aja went to speak but seemed to think better of it and remained silent. I appealed to the husband. “There’s nothing my friend can do for Keko. I’m telling you the truth.”

The man reached for his wife’s arm. “This was a mistake. My apologies.”

His wife shook him off and pulled a photograph from her purse. “For God’s sake, look at her!” she cried, slamming the picture down on the table. Aja picked it up and stared at it for several seconds.

“Her body is very tired,” she said, before handing the picture back to the woman. “It will be okay.”

The woman trembled with excitement. “Keko’s going to live?”

“No,” Aja said.

The woman’s face fell. Grabbing her daughter’s photo, she slapped Aja hard in the jaw. I saw it coming but was too slow to block the blow. Blood flew from Aja’s mouth onto the tablecloth. The husband wrapped both his arms around his wife and tried pulling her away. She fought him.

“You’re a witch!” the woman screamed at Aja. “Satan’s witch!”

The restaurant erupted in noise; people jumped to their feet. Blood continued to drip from Aja’s mouth onto the table. She grabbed a napkin and tried to stanch the flow. I hurried to the other side of the table and put my arm around her.

“How are you? Did she break anything?”

Aja stretched her jaw and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

The manager of the restaurant scurried over, looking worried. He was probably envisioning a lawsuit. “Are you okay?” he asked Aja. “Should I call 911?”

“I’m fine,” Aja repeated.

“Your lip’s swelling.” The manager turned to a waiter. “Fetch ice from the kitchen. Ice is the best thing.”

“Don’t bother, we’re leaving,” I said, helping Aja to her feet. She was not totally fine. The blow had hit the sweet spot on the jaw. The woman had poured all her anger into it. Aja’s legs wobbled as I helped her up.

“I’m so sorry about this,” the manager gushed. “The Takasus—they often dine here. They’re usually so polite. I know their daughter is ill but this type of behavior is inexcusable. They’ll be hearing from me this very night, and from the owner.”

Aja touched the man’s arm. “That’s not necessary. Let the woman grieve in peace.”

The manager seemed struck. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, she’s sure,” I said. “Now we’re leaving. Good-bye.”

“I understand, of course. There’ll be no charge for the meal.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” I muttered.

Aja needed help getting to the car but once there she seemed to rally. She still had the napkin from the restaurant and continued to hold it to her lips. The bleeding had stopped.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. I love their swordfish.”

Just like Aja. She cared more about the fish than the fact a complete stranger had slapped her in the mouth. I burst out laughing. “The fish was fantastic. We should come here again.”

“Maybe we could eat in the kitchen with the staff,” Aja said.

“Before we do we’d better make sure none of the cooks have any sick relatives. They might demand you do a healing at knifepoint.”

Aja smiled, although her lip was already swelling. “It doesn’t matter. Let them carve away. This body is just a body.”

“The hell it is. I love your body.”

“You do? Why? It’s no different from Aunt Clara’s body. Soon it will be nothing but ashes.”

“I hope not too soon.” I finally began to calm down. “That was my fault in there. I saw her draw back her hand but didn’t move fast enough to block it.”

“You like to blame yourself, Fred. It’s not necessary.”

I saw she was serious. She was staring at me again.

“Why do you say that? I’m not a martyr,” I said.

“Maybe a little one? Maybe? Yes?”

She had me. “All right. I admit it, I’m always trying to fix things. But people expect me to do it, I don’t know why. Like in the band, if there’s an argument, everyone looks to me to settle it.”

“You’ve been playing that role since you were young.”

I wasn’t sure if she was asking a question or making a statement.

“That’s true,” I said. “It probably started when I was six. My parents were going through a rough time and it looked like they might get a divorce. My dad moved out of the house, although he didn’t go far. He got an apartment around the block. Anyway, I remember going to see him every evening after he came home from work. He would tell me things to say to my mother and then she would tell me stuff to say to him. There I was, in first grade, playing the role of a marriage counselor. But the weird thing is my parents
expected
me to fix their problems. And that was all right with me—I wanted to help them.”

“And you were happy when they got back together.”

“Sure,” I said. “What kid isn’t terrified of the thought of their parents divorcing?”

Aja nodded but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she was agreeing with me. I didn’t take it personally. The last thing I wanted to do was to get into a major psychological discussion. I changed the subject.

“What do you want to do next?” I asked. “We’ve already missed the movie. I could take you home, if you want, or we could, I don’t know, do something else.”

“Let’s get a hotel room,” Aja said.

It was the last thing I expected her to say.

I came oh so close to having a heart attack.

“Huh?” I gasped.

Aja spoke casually. “This body’s never had sex. I’ve often wondered what it would feel like, especially since meeting you. I think tonight would be a good night to experience it.” She paused. “If that’s okay with you?”

I nodded. I nodded again. And again.

“Sure,” I said.

We stopped at an all-night drugstore on the way to the hotel. I ran in, bought a packet of condoms, and ran out. Aja wanted to see what I had bought. I obliged her, and she opened one.

“Oh,” she said, and she smiled.

• • •

The room had a huge Jacuzzi bathtub. I’d never been in one before but Aja was interested. Maybe it reminded her of skinny-dipping in the lake behind her house, or in the streams of Selva. I remember turning on the hot water and slowly watching it fill. Aja silently came up from behind me and hugged me. She rested her head on my back, listening to my breathing instead of my heart. Both were pounding fast.

There were bath salts for good health and bubble mixes for fun. We threw the whole lot in and took off our clothes and jumped in the steaming water. Well, I slowly climbed in. Aja, she was the one who jumped. And here she was supposed to be the quiet one, the shy one, and I was supposed to be the rock star. But the truth was I was just as much a virgin as she was and far more nervous.

She had me hypnotized. Her big, brown eyes never left my face. Sliding toward me through the gushing hot water, the swirling steam, and the swelling bubbles, she sat naked on my lap and wrapped her thin but surprisingly strong legs around my waist. God, I felt I was about to have my own near-death experience. Then again, it would have been just fine if I had died right then. Why? Because I’d never been so happy in my life. I’d reached my ceiling, I thought. No, the top of my skull had burst through it. Everything that came after in my life would be anticlimactic.

But I felt that would be okay as well. I’d have this memory, I’d have this night. When we began to kiss—I kissed her very lightly—to touch each other, the feel of her skin gave me so much pleasure I felt as if my body was no longer bound to the earth. Holding her naked in my arms transported me to another world.

Honestly, I felt she was an angel.

My angel. Aja . . .

Later, lying together on a Hilton king-sized mattress, a single sheet covering our bare bodies, I stared at the ceiling and thought I saw stars. I saw them through the roof of the hotel room. Was it so impossible? We were on the top floor of an eight-story building, and with Aja resting in my arms, the stars did not seem so far away.

Her breathing became soft and regular, like it had in the hospital when she had dozed off while Mike was in surgery. I assumed she’d fallen asleep and began to drift off myself. But then I felt her palm reach up and rest over my heart, which was now beating slow and lightly, almost sighing with a newfound rhythm it had found. I almost pitied it. My heart wasn’t used to such joy.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” I replied, drowsy.

“I told you it would be okay.”

“When?”

“Many times.”

I smiled. I felt many miles away, still floating, and yet, at the same time, I’d never felt so close to anyone in my life. It was pleasant to drift along beside Aja, through the moments, the seconds, the instants . . .

“I guess you were right,” I heard myself say.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel the Big Person?”

“I feel you. Are you the Big Person?”

“Yes.”

“Am I?”

Her next words sounded like a child’s lullaby in my ears, so sweet, so innocent, and yet, ironically, so wise. My drifting sensation slowly picked up speed. Now I felt like I was going somewhere, somewhere nice.

“There’s only one Big Person. He’s the same in everyone. But you don’t often feel him. Your Little Person gets in the way.”

“Who’s the Little Person?” I asked.

Her palm slipped from my heart to my forehead. “He’s up here. His name is Fred. He thinks a lot, he worries a lot. He thinks he’s a body. He thinks he’s his mind. But he’s neither.”

“Who is he then?”

“He’s everywhere and in all things. He never grows old, he can never die. And he’s never sad. He’s always happy and at peace.”

“Like I am right now?”

“Yes. Right now you’re getting a glimpse of the Big Person.”

I could hardly think, nor did I want to. I felt it disturbed the joy I was feeling and it seemed much easier just to let my thoughts run down. To turn them off with a switch that suddenly seemed close at hand. Intuitively, part of me knew she was helping me find this switch by using the touch of her fingers to steer me from my head down to my heart where my mind belonged. To what felt like an endless space suffused with peace and happiness.

“Do you always feel this way?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“So this is the real you?”

A million light-years away I felt her kiss my cheek.

“Yes. Now go to sleep and remember.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE NEXT DAY I only remembered having sex with Aja. In my defense the sex had been absolutely incredible and what had followed had been very abstract. Even though I’d felt the memory of being with her would sustain me for the rest of my life, I wanted to be with her again as soon as possible. It was the lover’s eternal paradox. One night was enough but a thousand nights would never satisfy me.

I felt I was in love.

Honestly, I only vaguely recalled what she’d said as we fell asleep. But I’d had such amazing dreams. I felt I’d spent the whole night flying.

We slept in and ordered room service: breakfast. We ordered half the menu. Aja begged me to let her use Aunt Clara’s credit card and I gave in. She continued to show no grief over the woman’s passing. With anyone else I would have been concerned but with Aja it all seemed so natural.

We didn’t start back to Elder until one o’clock. There were clouds in the sky. The first sign of summer coming to an end. Knowing South Dakota, I thought, the weather would skip autumn and head straight into winter. It occurred to me that Aja had probably never seen snow before. I asked and she said that was true.

“You’re in for a treat. Sort of,” I said.

“This body has never been cold before.”

I smiled. “You like to say ‘this body’ rather than ‘I.’ I know you’d say it all the time if Bart hadn’t lectured you about it. Why do you do that?”