by Inmon, Shawn
A few evenings after Charles had been in to see Thomas Weaver, he once again laid the file folder in front of Moondog.
“I’m going to die in a few weeks. This will ensure that everything that is left over will go to you. I know you don’t particularly need the money, but it’s yours to do with what you will. Last life, I didn’t have a plan for what I wanted to do with the money, but now I do. I’d like to help some of the people who don’t have anything.”
“Sure, of course,” Moondog said. “How? What would you like me to do with it?”
“There’s a mission a few blocks from Herb ‘n Legend. You can give the liquid assets to them, if you want. They’ll know how to stretch the money. There’s also the Middle Falls food bank. It helps anyone who needs it. Or, you can do what I’ve been doing—keep a pile of money and walk around Middle Falls taking people out to lunch and giving them the money directly.”
Moondog promised to do the very best he could with the money.
The two of them drove to Eugene that Saturday night for dinner with Sarah.
She made them hot soup, homemade bread, and apple pie for desert.
When dinner was over, Sarah got out a particular deck of cards and asked them if they knew how to play Pinochle. When they said they didn’t, she said, “Good. Let’s see how much of a card savant our Mr. Waters is, then.”
As when Moondog had taught Charles, they played the first few hands face up, learning the bidding and trick-taking process without keeping score.
When they played for real, Charles won handily.
Sarah again asked him to be her bridge partner, even though he had never played a hand.
Two weeks and two days later, Moondog once again came to Charles’ condo on Halloween eve. Again, they stayed up listening to music. This time, they ran through the complete catalog of Cat Stevens and were working their way through Pink Floyd.
At 10:00 a.m. Moondog made them tea.
“This feels too much like waiting for the sunrise and the firing squad to take you.”
“I never cared about dying for all those lives. But now, everything is different. I hated dying and having to start over last life and it is even harder this time. One thing is for sure, though. It doesn’t matter if I hate it or not, it’s happening.”
He was right.
Charles made sure he had set his teacup on the coffee table by 10:44. He didn’t want to spill it when he dropped dead.
A moment later, he did.
Chapter Fifty-One
Universal Life Center
CARRIE AND SEMOLINA stared into a pyxis which showed two men sitting in a living room drinking tea.
“He’s making progress,” Carrie said, “but each time he takes a step forward, he dies and has to start over.”
“This is the hardest life-cycle I’ve ever seen,” Semolina agreed.
“But he is progressing, changing, and growing.”
The voice was pure energy and seemed to come out of nowhere, but when Carrie looked up, she saw a tiny blue bird hovering effortlessly in the air above her. The bird was so lovely—an iridescent shade of blue that changed constantly—it made her catch her breath.
“Hello,” Carrie said. “Yes, Charles is progressing. I believe he could accomplish so much more if he had more time.” She squinted at the bird. She had never seen anyone other than Watchers in the Universal Life Center and this was no Watcher.
“Can I ask who you are?”
“I am Who I am.”
Carrie glanced at Semolina, who was staring at the small bird wide-eyed.
Almost involuntarily, Carrie reached a hand out to the bird and it came to rest on her hand.
“Oh!” Carrie cried. Blindly, she reached out to touch Semolina. A charge passed between them and Semolina too cried out. Tears flowed from both their eyes.
The bird rose into the air and floated comfortably in front of them.
“You are You!” Carrie finally managed.
“I am always Me,” the bird agreed.
“I have never seen You before.”
“In your true heart, you know that is not true. You see me everywhere, because I am everywhere and everything.”
The bird-who-was-not-a-bird dropped down until it was part of the image of the men sitting in the living room. It turned to Carrie and spoke to her from both near and far.
“He is Me, you know. Everyone is, of course. Everyone carries a charge of Me in themselves. But this man, this flawed, sincere, grasping man—he has more of Me than most.”
Carrie had believed she could not be more shocked, but at that moment, she was.
“Is Charles Your son?”
“Semantics makes such questions difficult to answer without creating an entire new language and perspective. Shall we do that?”
Carrie shook her head. “I don’t know that I’m ready for that.”
“I never give you more than you can handle, you know. That much is true. When you last lived on this planet, did you subscribe to a particular faith or religion?”
“I did,” Carrie and Semolina answered together.
“I will tell you something, then. Whatever that faith was, it had a figurehead of some sort that was said to have a close relationship to Me. It is possible that those humans did indeed find a way to connect with me, as there are many possible ways to do so. They did not come from Me, though. Gods are distant beings, thinking God-thoughts and living God-lives. That is true, no matter what you call Us. You call me The Machine. People on that planet have many other names for Me. None of them matter. To name The Divine is to try to control It, but The Divine cannot be controlled. I am. We are. Nothing more.”
The Machine waited for their response.
When none was forthcoming, The Machine said, “It can be troubling, being so distant that even the greatest scream sounds softer than a bird’s feather landing on the ocean. I desired to be part of this world for a brief moment. And so I am.”
“You are Charles?” Carrie asked.
“With your limited world-view, there is no way to answer that. I am his perspective. What he sees and feels, I see and feel. He is Me and I am Him.”
“He has been so limited. He knew almost no emotion through all his lives.”
“Yes. He is built in my own image in that way.”
“But he is evolving. He is learning to love, to care.”
“You are beginning to see. Good.”
“Knowing this, I don’t feel qualified to watch over him now.”
“Nothing has changed. The scales have simply fallen from your eyes. Now,” The Machine said, “what would you have Me do?”
Part Three
Chapter Fifty-Two
CHARLES WATERS OPENED his eyes. He did his best to pay attention to what Dr. Masin was saying, but he had heard this speech so often, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander.
He made a To-Do list in his head. The most important things were reestablishing his friendship with Moondog and Sarah. He had very much enjoyed the few evenings they had enjoyed together before he had been forced into this new lifetime.
When Dr. Masin finally wound down, Charles thanked him, walked downstairs, and took the bus home. He didn’t go up into his apartment, though. Instead, he went straight to the parking garage and climbed into the Civic.
He drove to Safeway and spent several hundred dollars on groceries, pots and pans, and a teapot. There wasn’t a single frozen meal in his basket when he checked out.
He did buy a number of prepackaged sandwiches, bags of chips, and bottles of water. Most of the groceries went in the Civic’s trunk, but those he kept on the seat beside him.
Instead of driving straight home, he puttered around Middle Falls. For the most part, he stayed away from the main drag, but haunted the areas where he knew he would find those he was looking for.
There were no homeless camps in Middle Falls in 1988, but there were places they could be found, if you knew where to look. Charles was beginning to know.
<
br /> It took him several hours, but he managed to find people that needed and appreciated the food he brought them. Each time he handed them a meal, he took time to talk to them, to make sure they knew he saw them, acknowledged them.
He gave his last sandwich away as full darkness fell and he drove home, feeling much lighter than he had a few hours before. When he had opened his eyes in this new life, he had felt a whiff of sadness and desperation at being forced to start over yet again.
After feeding a dozen people who might not have eaten without him, he felt contented and happy with his lot in life.
He had a lot of bags to carry, so he took the elevator up to his condo. He set the bags on the kitchen counter and it occurred to him that he had forgotten to warn Moondog about the grease fire.
He hurried next door and knocked. Moondog answered with a quizzical expression on his face and the phone to his ear. Behind him, smoke rose angrily from a pan on the stove.
Alarmed, Charles pointed to it and said, “Moondog!”
Moondog turned and saw that flames were beginning to shoot up from the pan.
Charles ran by him, opened the bottom of the oven, where he knew Moondog kept his broiler and flat pans. He grabbed a cookie sheet and dropped it on top of the popping, spitting grease. With one smooth motion, he turned off the burner, stepped back and waited.
While he had done that, Moondog had stood paralyzed, mouth open. Finally, he realized he still had the phone in his hand. “I gotta call you back. I almost burned my place down.” He dropped the phone without remembering to turn it off.
“Charles? How did you know? How did you know that was happening? Did you smell the smoke?”
“No, but it’s a long story. You need to hear it though, so why don’t you come over to my place and I’ll tell you. I bought some Constant Comment and a teapot, so I can make us that if you want. If you want some of your imported tea, you’ll have to bring it with you.”
Charles walked out the door, leaving a completely confused Moondog behind.
An hour and two cups of tea later, Charles had once again told Moondog the story. This time, he included how they had found Sarah and included her. He also told Moondog he was not a very good card player, which Moondog refused to believe.
As always, he was able to believe everything else, though.
“So you’ve known a lot of versions of me. It must be a little frustrating when you know me so well each time and you’re a total stranger to me.”
“I’ve gotten used to it. It’s part of life. I do need you to take me to Herb ‘n Legend tonight or tomorrow, though. Last life I tried to buy the painting he has hanging without you and it didn’t go so well.”
“No time like the present. I owe you a lot for saving my condo. That would have been a mess, man.”
“It was. I saw what it looked like last time.”
They drove back downtown and around to where Herb ‘n Legend was. Again, the lights were still on in the store.
As they approached the store, Moondog said, “Don’t go straight to it. Lemme talk to him first.”
“Got it. That’s what you told me last life, too.”
“This must get boring for you.”
“Only the first part. I’ll feel better after I’ve got the painting, though.”
Charles once again wandered through the bong section. This time he made a mental note to ask Moondog what they were used for, as he couldn’t imagine.
After a few minutes, Moondog found him and said, “I think I got you a good deal. He’ll sell you the painting for a thousand bucks. But, there’s a catch. I told him you were dying, and so he wants it back.”
“What?” Charles was seldom surprised, but that did it.
“He wants it back after you die. He’s drawing up a little contract right now that says you can buy it for a thousand dollars, but I have to agree to return it to the store when you’ve passed on. I thought that was a good idea, since you know you’ll be leaving again in a few weeks.”
“I hadn’t thought about it before. I guess I thought you would keep it.”
“It’s all right. This gets you the painting for a good price and I’ll make sure to return it to him when the time comes. He’s happy, you’re happy, it’s all good.”
“All right. This is certainly different than we’ve done it in the past. That’s not all bad.”
Charles and Moondog both signed the contract that Dana had scrawled on a sheet of notebook paper.
An hour later, Moondog had Ephemerata hung in the spot where Charles felt it belonged.
This life was off to a good start.
Chapter Fifty-Three
CHARLES WAS ENJOYING not going to work and since he didn’t have to, he chose to live another life on permanent vacation.
On Friday, he went in to Graystone Insurance and told Vic Stander that he was dying.
Vic was sympathetic.
Charles was a good soldier who managed to soldier on, but once again escaped Graystone while managing not to skip a little on his way out.
On Saturday, he went to Netarts and sat on the log waiting for Sarah. The fact that he had managed to become friends with her in the previous life gave him confidence.
As he had the life before, Charles spoke to her at the log, rockhounded with her along the Whiskey River, and took her to dinner at the same café. Once again, they both enjoyed their prime rib dips.
Some repetitions were enjoyable.
Charles thought of telling Sarah that he was not interested in romance before she had a chance to, but some instinct told him that was not a good idea. Instead, he waited for her to bring it up and then reassured her that he was only looking for a friend and someone to rockhound with.
This time, though, he invited her to dinner in Middle Falls before they left. He felt pleased at this increased level of efficiency.
Over the next few days, Charles once again walked around Middle Falls. He stopped in and made an appointment with Thomas Weaver to get his will drawn up again. New habits were forming.
As he walked back to his Civic, he noticed a dark and deserted spot in an otherwise lively building. He walked over and peered into the windows. Inside, there were tables with chairs turned upside down on them, a long counter with spinning seats and a grill. The whole place looked abandoned and unlovely.
The window was covered in dirt and cobwebs, but in one corner was a sign that said, “For Rent.”
It gave Charles an idea and he nearly pulled out his small notebook to begin jotting down a To Do list when he remembered that, like always, he wouldn’t have time.
When you live in twenty-five days cycles, there is never time enough for any big project.
Charles put his notebook back in his pocket and drove home.
That weekend, Sarah again came over to Moondog’s for dinner and cards.
This time, Moondog made a hearty stew with cornbread and steamed vegetables. Charles nearly said he liked the stew even better than the salmon he had made the last time. He caught himself at the last minute, though.
When dinner was done, Charles again introduced Sarah to Ephemerata, then took her out in three games straight in rummy.
When he won for the third time, Sarah looked at him and said, “Tell me you didn’t invite me over here just to take all my money by hustling me at rummy.”
“Charles has no concept of gambling, but he does like to work mathematical possibilities over in his head. While I am sleeping, I think he is creating new formulas for new situations. That might partially explain my rather modest position in the scoring tonight.”
“Maybe next time, we can play pinochle. I’ve been thinking a lot about that, too,” Charles said with a certain child-like urgency.
“Perhaps. If I need a lesson in humility.”
After Sarah left to drive home and Moondog went next door, Charles sat on his couch and looked at Ephemerata. As he so often did, he mentally fell into the painting, following lines and patterns until he was nearly in a
trance.
He set his mind to work on a new puzzle: how could he manage to do the things he wanted to do, when he only had such a short period of time in which to do them.
` The next few weeks passed as nicely as they could with a death sentence hanging over Charles’ head.
He and Moondog got together with Sarah twice more and found out they had more in common each time.
Sarah even said that now that she had found such nice people to be with in Middle Falls, she was thinking of selling her house in Eugene and applying for a job at the Middle Falls hospital.
That sounded wonderful to Charles, but he knew that none of it would happen while he was there to enjoy it.
All in all, the twenty-five day cycle, which Charles had lived with for so long truly began to chafe.
Still, like the fact that he knew he still had pancreatic cancer—even if he had no symptoms—there was nothing he could do about it.
Eventually All Hallows Eve approached and Charles once again asked if Moondog would spend the evening with him, getting ready for the transition.
Charles told Moondog that they had spent that night listening to music, so he dug into his album collection and brought out the Beach Boys.
”They can bring a little sunshine into the darkest night. And besides, Brian Wilson is a freaking genius.”
Charles had never listened to their music, but when Good Vibrations came on, he asked Moondog to play it again and again.
When the needle dropped on Pet Sounds, he did the same with Wouldn’t it Be Nice?
“There’s a message in that song,” Charles said. “We are always looking forward to what is next that we miss what is happening in the now. I am guilty of that, too. I need to learn to accept what comes and do the best with it.”
“That’s deep, man,” Moondog said.
