by C. W. Trisef
Meanwhile, the pyrotechnic display had not gone unnoticed. Ret’s three companions saw the unintentional smoke signals and came running. Lionel was first at the scene, followed by Coy and Ishmael. They dared not say a word, too enthralled by the show. Though his body was nearly engulfed in smoke, the fizzing fire and sputtering sparks lit up Ret’s glowing face.
Soon, the charring ceased and smoke dispersed. The rectangular rock having completely disintegrated, Ret found himself gripping what appeared to be a pair of shoes affixed to the top of the Intihuatana Stone. Though made of rock, they were apparently unresponsive to Ret’s touch. They constituted a pair of very unique footwear, consisting of an unenclosed sole with nothing but a cupped toe to keep it from slipping off. Combined with a set of sturdy spikes underneath, they were a cross between a flip-flop and a cleat.
“I wonder if they come in my size,” Mr. Coy whispered hopefully to Ishmael.
“What happened here?” Lionel asked urgently.
“The stone,” Ret began to explain, blowing ash from his face. “It cast a shadow that looked just like my scar, so I started fiddling with it. Turns out, it was the same kind of stone you two have.” He singled out Mr. Coy and Lionel. “So when I touched it, it started to burn, and this time I didn’t let go.”
Lionel, upon realizing at least some of his allegorical advice was making a difference, beamed at Ret who, soot-faced, grinned back.
“So what are the shoes for?” Ishmael inquired.
“Wearing, of course,” Mr. Coy said mockingly, leaping onto the granite slab. “Although, my impeccable sense of fashion tells me these are so Stone Age.” Despite his critique, Mr. Coy attempted to slip his foot into one of the shoes, only to find it wasn’t his fit. Finding all eyes on him, he blushed and pulled away. “Come and take a look at these, Ish,” Coy said, calling him onto the stone. “Something from your country, perhaps?”
Ishmael joined Ret and Coy on the rock for his requested examination. “They’re nothing I’ve seen in all my years,” Ishmael confessed. “Then again, I’m an apothecary, not a podiatrist.”
“Yes,” said Coy, “but you do make a mean cherry cobbler.”
“Mr. Coy is right,” Lionel interrupted, not wishing to be left out of the impromptu council meeting.
“I am?”
“Yes,” said Lionel, lunging onto the sacred stone. “These shoes are obviously meant to be worn.” Then, urging Ret toward them, he added, “Worn by Ret.”
Mr. Coy quickly shot Ishmael a look that demanded reassurance. Ishmael gave an imperceptible nod, and Mr. Coy’s concerned face melted.
“Of course they are,” Mr. Coy said confidently. “Go ahead, Ret. Give them a try.”
Despite the oddity of Mr. Coy and Lionel actually agreeing on something, Ret didn’t have to think twice about their suggestion. There wasn’t a sound in all the Andes as Ret slipped his right foot into the right shoe, then his other foot into the one that was left. All four men held their breath, bracing for the unknown. None of them—not even Ret—could feign a foothold on what would happen next.
Chapter 10
Unexpected Connections
Pauline was grateful they had arrived at the airport with time to spare since it took longer than anticipated to check Ana’s slew of luggage, which came at a price that was as hefty as the bags themselves. Fortunately (and to Pauline’s great relief), Miss Carmen graciously footed the bill, which also included a nice meal at an overpriced restaurant near the international terminal plus some last-minute snacks in preparation for the long flights ahead of them.
“I’ve flown this route enough times to know that some peanuts and a couple swigs of soda aren’t exactly enough to satisfy an appetite,” Miss Carmen told them, deriding the scanty in-flight service as her fellow travelers covered the concession stand’s checkout counter with a bounty of goodies.
As it was the first time they had spent any real quality time together, Pauline was finding Miss Carmen to be a surprisingly pleasant woman. She was kind and generous, certainly interesting to talk to, not to mention her stunning beauty, which the vain tend to repel out of covetousness but the homely befriend from flattery. What pleased Pauline most, however, was Miss Carmen’s increasing interest in Ana, and though obviously reciprocated by Ana herself, it came at the expense of Paige. Of course, the daughter of Mr. Coy didn’t make a fuss about being shoved to the side. She was more or less content to walk alongside Pauline, pulling her friend’s extra carryon bag behind her, both silently overhearing the more important conversation strutting in front of them. It was long ago when Paige first learned the sad truth that, for some unfortunate reason, there’s room for only two peas in a pod because three’s a crowd.
Contrary to their expectations, the plane they boarded was not very large. About three dozen rows were divided by a narrow aisle with a pair of seats on each side. Miss Carmen led her guests toward the back of the cabin, where she and Ana sat next to each other on one side of the aisle with Pauline and Paige doing likewise on the other. With the volleyball stars chatting away, Pauline lost herself within the pages of a thick cookbook while Paige stared longingly out the small window. Once the thrill of takeoff had ended and the aerial views had been swallowed by thick layers of clouds, Paige’s mind turned to Ret and stayed there for a long time.
“What’s on your mind, Paige?” Pauline asked, closing her book and shaking Paige out of her trance-like pondering. Paige had been so enveloped in her thoughts that she wasn’t aware that over an hour had transpired since their departure.
“Oh, nothing,” she fibbed. “Just mesmerized by the view, I guess.” Paige glanced out the window to find the unsearchable sky black with night. She smiled hopefully at Pauline, who couldn’t be fooled.
“You should get some sleep, dear,” Pauline suggested, proffering a plastic-bagged pillow.
“No thanks,” said Paige politely. “I’ve never been able to sleep much on planes—even when I was little.”
“Did you travel a lot when you were a kid?” asked Pauline, who hadn’t done much flying in her adult life, let alone her childhood.
“Tons,” Paige replied. “Mom and Dad were always going somewhere.”
At the mention of Paige’s mother, Pauline was suddenly extremely interested in the conversation, which enthusiasm she tried to downplay. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever met your mother,” she said. “What is she like?”
“Oh, she’s wonderful,” said Paige with eager fondness. “Everyone loves her. She makes friends wherever she goes. She’s super intelligent and very pretty. People compliment her all the time on her long, blond hair—curly, which is where I get it, I suppose.” Paige patted her hair with pride. “She’s always happy and loves to cook—oh, you’d love her, Mrs. Cooper.”
“Without a doubt,” Pauline agreed. “She sounds delightful. I’d love to meet her.”
“Well, that’s not really possible,” said Paige.
“Those are the exact words your father said to me,” Pauline recalled, a little perturbed, “and I’d really like to know why—”
“She’s dead.”
Pauline instantly fell mute, as if some force had just tightly grabbed her lungs. For several breathless seconds, she was thrown into a kaleidoscope of emotions. Finally, she thought to say, “She’s…she’s what?”
“She passed away about ten years ago,” Paige said, her emotions stable.
“Oh, Paige,” Pauline said consolingly, “I’m…I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Cooper; you didn’t know.”
Pauline utilized the next few moments to contemplate the best way to continue extracting information on such a delicate subject. “If I may ask,” she gently pressed, “why do you speak about your mother as though she’s still…you know…still alive?”
“Because she is,” Paige admitted quite candidly. “Well, don’t get me wrong; I know she’s gone: I remember laying a flower on her casket. I just don’t know where she’s gone.
She went somewhere—somewhere I can’t follow until I die, too. It’s kind of like when the sun sets: even though you and I can’t see it anymore, another part of the world is saying ‘good morning.’ So I keep my memories of her alive to remind me that she’s not dead forever—sort of like you and Jaret.” Pauline cringed at the unexpected reference to her husband. “Deep inside, I know I’ll see Mom again—somewhere, somehow. Death can’t kill a love like ours. That’s what I feel, anyway.”
Pauline was completely beside herself. The revelation of Mrs. Coy’s death was one thing, but the apparent insensitivity with which Paige had relayed it was quite another. Had Pauline been Paige’s deceased mother, she would have been insulted, for here was her daughter talking about death as though it was just a natural part of mortal life. Where were her tears? Where was her sorrow? Why was there neither grief in her tone nor mourning in her attitude?
“It must be on account of her age,” Pauline thought within her mind, the one territory where no one could say she was wrong. “I mean, to lose your mother so early in life is tragic, of course, but certainly not without its advantages: their relationship still being developed, the depth of their love not fully realized, the innocence of childhood, the lofty hopes of youth, the forgetfulness awarded by the passage of time.” The voice in her head spoke even more quickly than that of her throat. “Yes, the cheeky girl is simply too young and inexperienced to know what true love is and how crushing it is to lose it. One day, she’ll have to wake up and face reality.”
The truth, though unacknowledged by herself, was that Paige’s confident composure had quite the unsettling effect on Pauline because it clashed with the way she preferred to handle her similar situation. If anything, Paige’s burden was harder to bear since her loved one’s demise was confirmed, and, yet, instead of sorrow, there was strength—prudence in place of passion, faith in the face of fear. And although it worried Pauline—troubled and taunted her with the threat of demolishing her remorseful retreat—there was something attractive, contagious even, about Paige’s earned equilibrium, so much so, in fact, that the more rational part of Pauline, as small as it was, wanted in on it.
“So, Paige, dear,” said Mrs. Cooper, trying to extend herself beyond her comfort zone, “how…uh…how exactly did your mother…you know…die—er, pass away?” In her nervousness, she was subconsciously tracing never-ending circles with her finger along the slight indentation on the tray table where a cup is meant to sit.
Paige did not rush to reply as she had previously done. Instead, she leaned forward and looked around in every direction. The travelers in her immediate vicinity were either napping or tuned into media via earphones, and both Ana and Miss Carmen were sound asleep, the one leaning on the other for support. Finding the area free of possible eavesdroppers, Paige proceeded.
“Well, it might help if I give you a little background first,” she said in hushed but willing tones. “I was pretty young at the time—five years old when Mom died—so some of the details are a little fuzzy.” (“Just as I thought,” Pauline’s psyche echoed within.) “I can remember a few things about Mom, but most of what I know I’ve learned from the staff at the Manor since Dad never talks about her and forbids us from doing so—” then, smiling, “—at least in his presence.”
“I learned that the hard way,” Pauline mumbled, rolling her eyes in recollection of her ill-fated attempt to strike up conversation with Mr. Coy about his wife that day not too long ago on the yacht.
“Before Mom got sick,” Paige continued, “it seemed like we were always on the move, always going somewhere. I only remember scenes: Mom trying to occupy me in airplanes, Dad cradling me on nauseating trips at sea, a scary-looking military general with a mustache who tried to get me to smile but just made me cry, fancy dinners where I always spilled things, men in white coats letting me hold one of their lab rats, riding a bumpy camel in the desert (which I think is why I have a phobia of getting sand in my hair)…lots of random snapshots like that, almost like pictures in a photo album. At the time, I was just along for the ride, thinking I lived a normal life.”
“But the maids at the Manor have helped fill in the gaps,” Paige said. “As it turns out, my parents were both pretty famous people. Dad was one of the top dogs in the government or the military—or both; we’re not really sure—and his love of math and engineering led him to invent lots of things. Mom was a world-renowned scientist who had won awards for her research and earned all kinds of recognition for her philanthropic work. She helped discover vaccines, relieve suffering, and improve societies all over the globe.”
“Wow,” Pauline commented, “impressive.”
“And that’s just the beginning,” Paige stated with admiration in her eyes. “When Mom and Dad met and got married, they became an unstoppable team. They were the perfect match, both incredibly brilliant, both endowed with a love for helping others. One of the maids told me Mom and Dad were pressured not to have any children because a family would impede their work, but they obviously disagreed.” Paige beamed. “And when I came into the picture, they didn’t slow down a bit. In fact, my birth opened even more doors and softened even more hearts.”
“It must have been the curls,” Pauline said playfully.
“I just remember life being so good,” Paige reminisced fondly. “We were so happy—all three of us, all the time. I still don’t know where our home was, we traveled so much. But it didn’t matter because we were together—always together. In every photograph I have, we’re together, smiling. They could have left me at home, called a sitter, hired a traveling nanny. But they didn’t. There’s a picture from when we met the Prime Minister of India, and Mom’s shaking hands with him while holding me in her arms. There’s another one from when we met a tribal leader in the jungles of Africa, and Dad’s carrying me on his shoulders, and I’m holding his machete.”
“I may not have known where we were going or what we were doing,” said Paige, “but I always knew my parents loved me. There was never any doubt in my mind. I could feel it. They treated me like a princess (and they met quite a few real ones over the years). And I loved them back, knowing their love for me stemmed from their love for each other. I was young then, just a kid really, but the example of my parents’ love has stayed with me all these years—true love, the kind where you care more about the other’s happiness and well-being than your own. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”
It was in this moment when Pauline began to take back the hasty judgments she had mentally made of Paige just moments earlier. She had always known Paige to be a lovely young woman, and now she was learning something of her exquisite beauty—not so much the visible attractiveness of her appearance as her far fairer and richer inner beauty.
“And then, all of a sudden,” Paige continued her narrative, “Mom got sick one day. We had just taken a trip to an exotic island, I think—a really weird-looking place where Mom and Dad had found some new thing that they were anxious to research. But she became very ill, and no one could figure out what was wrong with her, not even this special doctor we went to—Cross, I think was his name. Anyway, they tried everything, but she only got worse. And then she died.”
Paige looked down, but Pauline still could not detect any tears.
“And that’s when life stopped being so good and happy,” said Paige gloomily. “Dad changed overnight. He went from fun to weird to weirder. I never saw him smile again; in fact, I almost never saw him again. Tons of people started coming into our lives: maids and nurses, butlers and chauffeurs. They took care of me while Dad did…well, did other things. It was like he didn’t want to see me, didn’t want to be around me, didn’t want to be my dad anymore. At night, I would cry for Mom, scream for Dad, but the only ones who came to my rescue were strangers. I felt so alone.”
“Oh, Paige,” Pauline wept, pulling the poor girl into her shoulder with love.
“That’s why I’m so glad I met Ana,” Paige carried on optimistically. “Yeah, she
can be a little rough around the edges,” they both glanced at Ana lovingly, still snoozing across the aisle with her mouth wide open, “but she has such a big heart. She’s such a good friend.”
“And you’ve been a truly outstanding friend for her, Paige,” Pauline informed. “I mean it; whether she realizes it or not, Ana adores you. And so does Ret.”
“He does?” Paige exclaimed with astonished glee.
“Well, maybe not in quite the same way,” Pauline reasoned, “but he certainly does care for you, I’m sure. Please be patient with Ret. He’s been putting himself under a lot of pressure because of this Oracle business. You do realize he was only staring at Miss Carmen at the end of your championship game because of the mark on her back, don’t you?”
“I know, I know,” Paige confessed in a manner that could have knocked Ret over with a feather. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to get him to notice me for such a long time, and then some hot momma comes along and earns his immediate attention.” Paige peered over Pauline to make sure Miss Carmen was still asleep. “Hopefully Ret’s noticed that I’ve been ignoring him.”
“There’s no doubt about that,” Pauline told her. “I’d say your silent treatment is having its intended effect.”
“Well, it’s not that I’m trying to be difficult,” Paige explained. “It’s more that I’m learning to control my feelings and remind myself that I can’t force someone to love me. Life’s taught me not to be a very passionate person; if there’s something I really want but can’t have, then I need to change what I want.”
“Well, I hope Ret comes to his senses soon,” said Pauline tenderly, shifting in her seat to get comfortable, “before he misses what’s right in front of him. There aren’t too many girls as special as Paige Coy.” She embraced Paige again and handed her a pillow. “We’ll kindle a fire inside of that boy yet; just you wait and see.”
“I sure hope you’re right, Mrs. Cooper,” Paige grinned, and they both closed their eyes to rest.
