The Last Story (14 page)

Clearly he felt terrible for having walked in on us.

Sitting beside him, I put my arm around his shoulder.

"That's all right, Jacob," I said. "You didn't disturb us. Don't be upset."

He moaned, his head down. "I'm so sorry."

I forced a laugh. "No. You have no reason to be sorry. Hey, how was the pool? Pretty cool, huh?"

He looked up, or at least, raised his head. "I liked it. I've never been in a pool before."

"Really? Did you go in the sauna?"

"Yeah. Boy, it was hot in there. I couldn't stop sweating."

I giggled nervously. "That's what you're supposed to do, silly. Hey, can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure."

"A Coke? Three Cokes?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Could I have two, please?"

I jumped up. "You got it. How was the yogi today?"

"Wonderful. He gave me a flower and taught me to meditate."

I opened the refrigerator. "Did you like it?"

"Yes. I got so relaxed I almost went to sleep. But he said that was OK." He paused, frowning in the direction of the bedroom. "Is Peter mad at me?"

"No. I told you, no one's mad. Would you like your Coke in a can or a glass?"

"I like it in a can. How come Peter hasn't come out of the room?"

"He's tired." So far Roger was wisely staying put.

"He's resting."

"What time is it?"

"I don't know. Around ten. Maybe a little later."

"It's that late?"

"Yes," I lied.

"I didn't think Peter would be home. He said he was going to the yogi's evening meeting.

That's what he told me when he dropped me off."

"Really? I think he did go." I returned to Jacob with the Cokes, both opened. "He just got home a few minutes ago."

"If he's not asleep yet, could I speak to him? I want to tell him I'm sorry."

I giggled again. Boy, I sounded guilty. "You don't have to tell him anything. It's better to drop it.

Trust me on this. He won't want to talk about it." I lowered my voice, speaking confidentially. "It would just embarrass him."

Jacob was uncertain. "OK, I won't say anything.

As long as he doesn't want to kick me out."

I gave Jacob a quick squeeze. "No one's going to kick you out. I told you last night, you can stay as long as you want. Now drink your Cokes and stop worrying. Oh, maybe you should change out of

your swimming trunks first. You don't want to get the couch all wet."

Jacob felt his trunks. "They're dry from the sauna."

"Yeah, but you should probably still change.

Here, let me help you into the bathroom. I got your sweats here. You can change and be all ready for bed." I helped him up.

"Do I have to go to bed now? Can't I watch TV?"

Jacob enjoyed several shows, and knew many TV

characters well, even though he had trouble following action scenes. "Sure," I said. "You can watch whatever you want. I just think you should get ready for bed."

"OK."

The moment I had the bathroom door closed, I gestured to Roger. He was no fool. He was already dressed and ready to go. We had driven to the apartment in our own cars. He kissed me quickly as he headed out the door.

"Do I get a rain check?" he whispered.

"We'll see."

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes! Now go! Shoo!"

Roger grinned, enjoying my discomfort. "Do you love me?"

"Do you love me?" I asked.

He snorted. "I love what you do for me."

I pushed him away. "Get out of here!"

Jacob came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. He had changed and used the bathroom and brushed his teeth. With a dread bordering on nausea, I tried to think what he would say when Peter came rolling through the front door in a couple of hours. I could only hope Jacob was sound asleep by then. But even if he was, surely he would wake when his hero came home. Hey, Peter, I thought you were asleep in the bedroom. I could just see it now. What was I going to do?

"Hey, Jacob," I said. "Are you tired?"

"A little. Do I have to go to bed?"

"No. In fact, I was just thinking we should go to Disneyland."

"Disneyland? Right now?"

"Yes. Have you ever been to Disneyland?"

"No."

"It's great."

"But you want to go now?"

"Yes. What's wrong with now?"

"I thought you wanted me to get ready for bed?"

"Yeah, but you said you're not tired. So we should go to Disneyland."

"Is it open at this time?"

"Yeah. It's only nine o'clock."

"I thought you said it was ten o'clock?"

"I was wrong. I think, in the summer, Disneyland stays open late." I patted Jacob on the back.

"Come on, you'll love it."

Jacob finally smiled. "Let's go."

Of course, I wanted to keep Jacob out long enough so Peter would be asleep when we came home. By tomorrow morning, I hoped, Jacob would have forgotten all about walking in on us.

Disneyland was crowded. It was a weekend night

in the summer, and a warm evening to boot. The line for Space Mountain was the longest but we went on it three times because the fun of it wasn't affected by whether you could see or not. In fact, each time I rode it, I kept my eyes clenched shut.

Jacob howled; he was having the time of his life. We also went on the train ride because Jacob liked trains, and Thunder Mountain, which was another roller coaster-like ride. Jacob ate four hot dogs and two bags of popcorn and one slice of pizza. No stomach problems with this guy.

We got home at two in the morning and Peter was still up.

He glowed, I swear. I was jealous. Like the two preceding nights, he sat under the lamp in the corner reading. I had left him a note saying that I was taking Jacob to Disneyland, and that he shouldn't wait up for us. He smiled happily as we came through the door. Kriya and meditation obviously agreed with him.

"How was it?" he asked.

Jacob was still shaking with excitement. "Awesome!

We went on every ride!"

I hadn't explained to Jacob that there was only one Space Mountain. I just gave it a new name each time. Leaning over to give Peter a kiss, I said, "It was a blast. How's the course going? Or do I need to ask?"

Peter nodded. "It's everything we hoped for.

First we did some simple breathing exercises, then he taught us the kriya. During it you repeat certain set rhythms of breathing. Each rhythm is supposed to correspond to a different level: one to the body, one to the mind, another to the soul.

The kriya integrates the different levels. I know that sounds abstract, but what it all boils down to is that after you do it, you feel incredible. You go really deep inside and when you come out it's like everything is brand-new. All your stress is gone and you feel like a little kid. You just want to play and have fun and enjoy life. It's amazing, you have to do it."

"I want to do it," I said honestly. I could have used a little less stress in my life.

Especially when Jacob spoke next.

"Hey, Pete," he said. "I thought you were tired. I thought you went to bed early."

Peter was confused. "No. I went to the yogi's evening meeting. I told you I was going there when I dropped you off. Remember?"

"Yeah," Jacob said, "but when you came home you went to bed."

"Well," I broke in. "We don't know how long he's been home. It doesn't matter. Let's all go to bed.

We all have to get up early tomorrow. Jacob, let me get your sweats for you. Here, I'll lead you to the bathroom. Peter, do you need anything?"

He still seemed a little puzzled. "No. I'm fine."

We were in bed ten minutes—Peter was already beginning to doze—when I spoke. There was no way I could sleep if I didn't. And I knew there would be no easy rest for me after I did, but that was the consequence of the choice I had made.

"Peter," I said softly.

"Huh?" he mumbled, his back to me.

"Roger was here this evening."

"What?"

"Roger was here this evening."

Peter rolled over and looked at me. "What are you talking about?"

I continued to stare at the ceiling, wishing I could leave my body, and soar through the roof and come once again to a place where there was no pain. I cleared my throat.

"Roger was here this evening."

"I heard you the first time. Why was he here?"

I swallowed. "I don't know."

"Shari?"

Tears formed in my eyes. "He was here with me.

He was here when Jacob walked in. He was here and we were— We were here together, in this bed."

There was a long painful silence. Peter's voice came out like a croak.

"Why?"

I sat up and bent over, feeling as if I would vomit.

Burying my face in my knees, I started to shake.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"Shari?"

"Yes."

His voice cracked. "Did you sleep with him?"

"Peter."

"Did you sleep with him?"

I sat up and looked over. His face was a burnt-out star.

"Almost," I said.

He died then, a little. I believe we both did.

Certainly I felt like a murderer. He couldn't speak,

he could scarcely breathe. I wanted to touch him, to comfort him. I tried, but he shook my hand off and I quickly withdrew it, knowing how my touch must feel to him. Like the skin of a rattler pulled across his skin. I turned away and put my feet on the floor, wondering if I had the strength to stand.

"I'm sorry," I told the wall.

He didn't speak. He only wept.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked.

He didn't answer. His tears said it all.

I stood, swaying. "I think I should leave."

I dressed and packed an overnight bag and grabbed my notebook computer, slipping the floppy disk from my other computer into the notebook.

Peter sat hugging his lifeless legs the whole time, forcing air into his lungs, awash in tears that burned both our souls. There were a million things I could have said to him. I was a writer and a genius at inventing lines of dialogue. Yet there was nothing to say now that would make things better. There comes a time, I suppose, when words fail. Love knows no reason, the yogi said. If that was true, I thought, then pain knew no answer. My pain was like a cancer, a disease I had freely chosen to share.

How much I hated myself then was matched only by how little I understood myself.

Above all else, I wished I had never been reborn.

I stepped to the bedroom door. On the living room couch, Jacob continued to sleep peacefully.

Turning, I looked back at Peter, my dearest love.

"Goodbye," I said.

He didn't look up. "Goodbye."

/ love you. More than anything in the whole creation, I love you.

"Take care of yourself, Peter," I whispered.

Then I was gone, into the night, where everything was and always would be black.

CHAPTER

XIII

A. HE LOBBY OF THE Beverly Hills Hotel was plush.

For a thousand bucks a night, it should have been.

The guy at the desk took one look at me and was obviously inclined to point me in the direction of Motel 6. Without a spot of makeup and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, I was no sight for sore eyes. But when I pulled out my platinum American Express card his expression changed.

The card had no limit. I didn't ask him for the room number of Roger Teller, or even if he could ring him for me. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't in the mood for sex and didn't even know why I had chosen to stay at that particular hotel.

My room was lovely. There were flowers on the coffee table and champagne on ice. The bathroom was as large as the egos of most people who probably stayed in the suite. I sampled the expensive Swiss chocolates that had been laid out for me, finding them tasteless. The champagne also tasted like vinegar. I spat it out after the first sip.

"Jesus," I whispered.

I got ready for bed. Turned out the lights. It didn't help. Sleep was not on good terms with broken hearts. It would have nothing to do with them. Thirty minutes later I was back up and turning on my notebook computer. If I couldn't rest, I decided, I'd work. Telling stories, lies, was the only thing I was good for.

THE STARLIGHT CRYSTAL

An hour after disabling the Orion vessel and deciding to flee—sixty minutes before Sarteen's starship would be in position to jump into hyperspace—the alien ship began to accelerate in their direction again. Pareen gave Sarteen the bad news.

"Captain," he said anxiously. "They're coming."

"Will they get to us before we jump?" she asked, sitting in her command chair on the bridge.

"It will be very close, one way or the other. But if I were to guess— Yes, they will just catch us."

Sarteen nodded to herself. She had erred. She should have fired the disrupters when she had the chance.

Captain Ewort was probably laughing at her now. The extent of her mistake weighed heavily on her.

"Do we have any nanoeggs left?" she asked.

"I released our entire stock." Pareen shrugged. "I thought it was our last chance."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "I understand. I wouid have released them all as well.

Now, what do we do? We must assume they'll catch up to us. They are damaged, and perhaps their shields aren't working. Can we defeat them in a direct fight?"

Pareen shook his head. "Doubtful. They only need to hit us once with their energy beams.

I cannot believe we destroyed all their weaponry."

"By your best estimate, how close will we come to having sufficient velocity to jump into hyperspace?" she asked.

"We will have ninety-eight percent of required velocity."

"What if we implode our engines? Just as they come within firing range?"

Pareen was aghast. "That will permanently destroy our engines. When we come out of hyperspace on the other side we won't be able to slow."

"We can decelerate using our retro rockets."

"That'll take years."

"Will we be in a hurry? We have already spent a thousand years aboard this ship. What are a few more?

If we implode the engines that will give us the last shove we need to jump into hyperspace."