I can’t exactly see what the object is. It’s small enough for Olga to cup within her hands, and from here it looks dark brown and hard, like a piece of wood or a stone carving.
She rolls it back and forth between her palms for a little while, keeping her eyes closed the whole time. Sometimes she tilts her head this way or that, like she’s trying to see something or listen to something a little more clearly.
Then finally she speaks.
“It’s a girl,” Olga says. “Seven years old. Brown hair, brown skin.”
She has a slight accent—maybe Czech or Polish or something like that.
The technician adjusts some controls. In a space over to our left, a cloud of colors starts to take form.
“She is barefoot,” Olga says. “Long tan dress. No belt. A red band around her wrist. No, not a band—markings. Into her skin, showing ownership. She is a slave.”
The cloud to our left molds itself into the girl. With all the features Olga is describing.
“She is . . . Persian,” Olga says, squinting her closed eyes. “Blue edging on the top of her dress. She is carrying a bag of something . . .”
Olga is silent, her head tilted to the side as she listens or watches or however she’s doing it.
But meanwhile the cloud is working on its own, becoming clearer and better-defined at every moment. Now we can see the bag. A marketplace. Other people.
“Yes, dead at seven,” Olga says. “Buried with her mistress. Mistress is Scythian, not Persian. Died of lungs—bad lungs. Girl is named Nefiri. She is taking the bag to her mistress. It is herbs, they will not work, the woman dies.”
The cloud focuses on the girl, walking in the middle of this busy marketplace, surrounded by merchants’ stalls. There are other children, too, about her same age, but we can’t see their faces—they look fuzzed out. Just vague outlines of other people around her, with Nefiri the clearest image of all.
“She knows her mistress is sick,” Olga says. “She knows if the mistress dies, she will die, too.”
I study the girl’s expression: is she sad? Scared? Worried? She just looks . . . busy. Like she’s working. Like it’s just a typical errand.
“Go to the burial,” Francie tells her. “How are they laid out?”
The cloud swirls again, resets. Now the background is dark. No more people or color around her. Just Nefiri, lying on her back, eyes open, looking around.
“Hands bound,” Olga says. “Tied together, then tied to one of her mistress’s wrists.”
Sam whispers something to his wife. Francie asks Olga, “What is the mistress wearing? And age?”
Olga tilts her head and squints. “Twenty, twenty-one. Tall, but small feet. Pale skin, hair grayish-white. Like ash.”
We all watch the cloud as it forms itself into the ash-haired woman.
“Dress?” Francie asks.
“Brick red. Dusty. Dirty. Oh, yes, I see.” Olga is nodding to herself. “All in ash. Her hair has been painted with it, the clothes dusted with it. Her face, too. Ash base, stripes wiped away in a pattern. Like this.”
Olga demonstrates by wiping two fingers down one of her cheeks. “Both sides,” she says. “And here.” She passes a finger under her eye. “Just on the left side.”
The dead woman takes on exactly those markings. It’s like I’m watching someone’s dream come into life.
I reach over and take Daniel’s hand. I can’t help it. This is the most extraordinary thing I’ve seen, and I’ve seen a lot by now. He gives my hand a single squeeze, then lets go.
“Anything else?” Francie asks. “Jewelry, pottery—any artifacts?”
Olga waits and scans whatever’s behind her eyes. “No,” she says, “nothing.”
“The feeling?” Francie asks. “Of the little girl?”
“Fear,” Olga says. “Resignation. Sadness. Nefiri has a little brother she loves. She is not sure what will happen to him now. She helped take care of him.”
I see the young girl’s face take on exactly the expression described. I wouldn’t have known how to break it down into those three elements—fear, resignation, sadness—but seeing the girl’s face now, I know that’s exactly what she feels.
And now I understand what’s going on: The girl is alive. Her mistress is dead, and the slave girl is about to be buried alive beside her.
“Open or covered?” Francie asks.
“Open,” Olga says.
“Dirt?”
“Dirt and ash,” Olga says.
The cloud now shows both the girl and her mistress together. With heaps of dirt and ash beginning to bury them.
Nefiri is brave about it, lying perfectly still, right up until the first pile covers her face. It must be a natural physical reaction to turn your head to the side, to try to spit the dirt out, to try to keep on breathing. But soon there’s too much, it’s too heavy, and though the girl struggles, now she’s buried too deep to ever pull herself out.
I start to cry out, and quickly cover my mouth.
“Year?” Francie asks.
“Three eighty-six,” Olga says. “B.C.”
The cloud starts breaking up again, losing its form.
I look away. I feel sick inside. That poor, poor girl.
I hear Olga say, “Oh, this is a foot?” I look up and see her gazing at the object in her hand.
“Yes,” Francie says. “That’s right. Petrified. Turned into stone.”
“Poor girl,” Olga says, as if she read my thoughts. “Nothing she could do.” She gazes at the foot for a moment more, then closes it again between her cupped hands, like she’s protecting it, or keeping it warm.
“Thank you, Olga,” Francie says. “That was lovely.”
Olga smiles and starts to get up from her chair. “See you Thursday.”
“Wait,” Francie says, looking over at me. She motions for me to come forward. “We have a friend in here, Olga. We’d like you to meet her.”
I’m suddenly very, very nervous. Like sweaty, and a little faint. Now that I’ve seen what Olga can do, I’m not sure at all that I still want to go through with this.
But Daniel gives me a nudge. Makes me move up into the center of the room where Olga can see me better.
“Hello,” she says.
“Hello,” I say back.
“This is our friend Halli Markham,” Francie says. “Perhaps you’ve heard of her.”
Olga considers for a moment. “No, sorry.”
“She’d like to meet you,” Francie says.
“All right,” Olga answers pleasantly. “Send her in.”
Now it’s Francie’s turn to nudge me in the back, to send me toward the door in the side of the control room. I’m sweating so much now I can feel it pooling underneath my armpits. For all I know I’m dripping onto the floor.
My voice is shaking. “I can’t,” I tell Francie. “I’m too afraid.”
“Audie,” she says gently, “after everything you’ve been through, I can’t believe you’re afraid of anything anymore.”
“Believe it,” I say. My teeth are chattering. I’m cold and shaking from the sweat.
Francie looks over at her son. Daniel steps up close to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll go in with you.”
All this time Olga has been sitting there, patiently waiting for this strange girl who’s freaking out over having to meet her. Maybe she’s used to that. Maybe people have treated her that way her whole life.
Daniel guides me out of the control room, and then to the next door over, leading into the recording booth. As we walk in Olga gets up from her chair, takes a few steps toward me, and reaches out for my hand. I can’t lift my own. Daniel has to lift it for me.
And as soon as my hand is in Olga’s, her expression immediately changes. First a complete blankness that lasts a couple of seconds, and then a slowly-growing smile.
She closes her eyes and keeps hold of my hand.
“You have given me a puzzle,” she says t
o me. “How exciting. Thank you.”
She keeps a tight grip on me. I stand there, shaking, as Daniel lets go of me to go help Olga sit down again. The three of us move together. Olga’s eyes are still closed. Mine are freakishly wide open.
“A double puzzle,” Olga says. “One layer over another. This girl—” She tilts her head to the side, and even though her eyes are closed, it seems like she’s staring right at me. “—and another. Halli? You are not Halli.”
I think I’m going to throw up.
“This . . .” She lifts my hand up and down a few times. “This is Halli.”
Olga opens her eyes. And she presses her finger right into my chest.
“This,” she says, “is not.”
44
“I . . . I think I need to sit down,” I say to Daniel, but my legs are already giving way. He gets to me quickly, scoops me up, stands me back on my feet.
I see him gesture toward the control room, but his father is already racing through the door, carrying a chair. They both help lower me into it. I’m sweating and shaking, and yet Olga still hasn’t let go of my hand.
Sam motions for Daniel to follow him back to the other room.
“No,” I say, “please.” I reach out my free hand, and Daniel takes it. Right now he’s the only thing keeping me anchored in this room. I feel like I could disappear into a puddle of sweat, and just evaporate out through the ceiling. I need to feel solid. I need to feel real. Right now I feel like a ghost.
Sam closes the three of us back in and returns to the control room. Olga is still sitting placidly unconcerned, just holding onto my hand and watching whatever she’s seeing behind her eyelids.
“You are in the mountains,” she says. “Him,” she points blindly toward Daniel, “you,” she points to me, “and another you. And other people.” Olga waves her hand, as if they’re unimportant right now. “Cold,” she says. “Snowing. A dog.”
Red is in the control room with Daniel’s parents, being very good right now. Maybe it’s because he can still see me. He doesn’t feel abandoned.
“And then . . .” Olga keeps a hold of me with one hand, and raises her other to the side of her forehead. She massages her thumb into her temple. She looks troubled.
I’m not saying a word. I’m not asking her anything, I’m not giving her any hints, I’m just sitting here trying not to pass out. My head is buzzing. I see little colored spots in front of my eyes. Daniel’s hand is dry and warm against mine. He must think mine feels clammy and disgusting.
“I do not understand,” she mutters to herself. Her eyes pop open. “Do you understand?” she asks me.
I shake my head no. This whole thing is a nightmare.
Olga closes her eyes once more. The room is so silent right now I don’t know if any of us are breathing.
Then suddenly Olga squeezes my hand hard. “Yes! I see! Both of you! There you are!”
She swoops her free hand through the air. “One this way, the other that way. This one . . .”
And then she falls silent again. We were on such a roll! And now she’s blocked again?
I have to use my voice. It sounds mechanical and far away. “This one . . . what, Olga? Please?”
She smiles and hums to herself, and swings my hand lightly back and forth. She’s bonkers. She’s lost it. Whatever she saw has obviously blown a circuit in her brain, and now she’s just going to hum and speak gibberish for the rest of her life.
I’ve ruined her. I broke her.
“Alive,” she says. “Alive!” She points her finger in front of her, at something over my shoulder. “Alive! She is there! I can see her!”
“Alive?” I say. “Now? She’s alive now?”
“Yes!” Olga shouts. “Go to her!”
“Go to her?” I shout back. “Where?”
“There! There!” Olga keeps pointing. I look over my shoulder, but I can’t see it.
But I do see Sam and Julius and Francie all waving to me frantically from the other room. They’re smiling and shouting and pointing to where I know the cloud is inside that room.
“Thank you,” I tell Olga. I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you—you don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”
Then I pry my hand loose and shout, “Come on!” to Daniel, and race into the other room.
45
The cloud is nothing. Just a swirling gray. My heart sinks into my stomach.
“Just wait,” Francie tells me, seeing my face. “We’ll play it back. Julius, hurry! This girl is about to explode!”
Julius pokes and prods his control screen, and I just keep staring at the cloud. It’s taking forever. I look over at Daniel. He smiles at me—a real, genuine smile. I’ve been waiting a long time for that, too.
Then finally the cloud takes shape again. And plays the movie that was inside Olga’s head.
Starting with Daniel and me kissing.
Yeah, that’s comfortable for Daniel and me to watch together right now, especially with his parents in the room.
I steal a glance sideways at him, but he actually seems fine. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest and he’s just watching. Like he’s curious what happens next.
I know what happens next. I recognize the moment. It’s our last kiss before Daniel has to leave me. The rest of the group is there—Halli, Sarah, Martin—and the snow is just starting to come down. Red has a thin dusting of it on his back. We’re all saying goodbye.
Sarah and Martin head off first, leaving Daniel and Halli and me for a few moments alone. I know what we’re talking about: Halli is telling Daniel to take care of his injured ankle and be cautious hiking out. Daniel is telling us he hopes he’ll see us again in a few weeks at his father’s birthday party. Halli says she isn’t sure because she has some business to attend to first—business I now know was that board meeting with her parents.
Daniel looks at me and he doesn’t even need to say it—I can read it in his eyes. He’s saying, “Try.”
And I see it on my face, too: How much I want to. How sorry I am to see him go.
“Wow,” I say, as much to myself as Daniel. “It’s weird to see that again, huh?”
“It’s nice,” he says. “It must be strange for you to see yourself again after nearly a week of not seeing that in the mirror.”
He’s right. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but he’s right.
Now Olga’s story of us skips forward, just like it did with the slave girl. Halli and I are walking back to the hut, and I can see that guy Karl, the handsome German pilot, waiting for her in the distance.
I’m grateful there’s no sound, because I know very well what she and I talking about right now: whether she thinks Daniel really likes me. She says he does. I tell her I hope so.
I sneak another glance at Daniel. I hope he can’t read lips.
Halli and I hug. She’s going off with Karl now to hike for a few more days in the Alps. Which is why they’ll both still be up there three days later when the blizzard hits, and the avalanche sweeps down the mountain to kill them.
I hope I don’t have to watch that. Not again. I’ve replayed it enough times in my mind. I remember every last second of Halli’s life. It’s not like I need to be reminded.
“Watch,” Francie tells me. She points at the cloud. “It’s just about to—there.”
The cloud shivers. The holographic movie breaks up.
The colors get all swirly again, and I can’t see anything for a moment. Then the cloud starts creating a new form. It splits into two. Now there are two separate clouds, still connected at their base. And each cloud starts showing a different scene.
My eyes flick between the two of them, trying to take them both in.
“Play them one by one,” Francie instructs Julius. “Make it easier on her.”
46
I wasn’t there for any of this: Halli, sitting on the porch of the hut, tightening up her boot laces. Karl standing nearby, waiting. He’s wearing his pack and looks
ready to go.
But Halli doesn’t. She pauses for a moment and looks out at the snow.
She says something to Karl, and he looks up at the sky. Snowflakes fall against his face. I notice that Red’s coat looks whiter than it was before. The snow must be coming down harder.
Halli looks off toward the distance now, in the direction I know Daniel and the others just went.
Halli hesitates for a moment more, then rises to her feet.
She goes to Karl and hugs him. No, not just hugs him—she grips him by the shoulders, pulls him toward her, and plants on him a far more passionate and skillful kiss than the one I just witnessed myself giving Daniel. It lasts a good long time. And it’s kind of embarrassing to watch with other people in the room—especially Daniel—but I can’t stop looking because I think I’m starting to realize something.
I think that technique came with this body. All this time I’ve thought it was because of Jake—that he was just such a superior kisser, he couldn’t help but lift my own game about thirty notches.
But now I see it’s more like what I experienced in the gym, working out with Ferguson. I could master all those incredibly hard feats of strength and coordination because they just came with the package. So maybe any guy kissing these lips—whether it’s Karl the pilot, or Jake, or even Daniel—would have a totally different experience than if they kissed my own Audie lips.
How weird. How fascinating. How embarrassing.
“Sorry,” I mutter to Daniel.
“For what?”
I’m not really sure how to answer.
Finally Halli lets go of him, smiles, says one thing more, then shoulders her pack. Then she starts sprinting across the snow, with Red running at her side.
Olga skips ahead again. And now Halli is on the trail, talking to Daniel and his group. Sarah is smiling, laughing. She throws her arms around Halli and gives her a big squeeze. Then Halli motions for her and Martin to go on, and she starts hiking along with Daniel.
“Is that what happened?” I ask. Halli’s tracking information is starting to make sense.
“Yes,” Daniel says. “She caught up with us and told us she was worried about the conditions. She wanted to be certain we’d get down all right.”
Parallelogram Omnibus Edition Page 41
