“I know.”
“I think you need to be alone,” I blurted out loud, the last thought of the crashing train running through my heart, leaving a gaping, blackened tunnel in its wake.
“Not yet.” He took my hand in his, and I wondered how much time we had left. How many more times would he touch my hand?
“Your father’s scared.”
“He’s not the only one, Porzia. We’re all bloody scared.”
“No, you’re not, Gabe.” I felt rage spill out of my whole being along with tears. “You’re not scared. You’ve been Dreaming your own Aboriginal beginning for this time to manifest. But it’s absurd!
“You can’t believe that now, all of a sudden, you might be invincible. I remember you telling me you defied death once and you could do it again. Are you out of your goddamned mind? How can you think that with only a touch of a superior being inside you you’re no longer facing mortality? Who the hell do you think you are? And who the hell does he think he is? You don’t fuck with the gods! And don’t tell me that it’s not true. He’s kept you alive this long. Why would you think that now you can make up your own rules?”
Enraged, I attacked him, my fears pressing the verbal abuse until the eagle feather hanging off the ignition caught my eye, and I stopped abruptly. All of a sudden, I connected the dots of the bloody wings. The Dhamala Gabe killed in mercy must have been the first, initial contact. Trapped by a broken wing, the warrawarra spirit could not return to its human form. Gabe and his kind sense of justice. Oddio! The price he paid! Feeling the pain of killing an innocent creature actually released the powers and, ultimately, a responsibility. The warrawarra was freed but bound by debt—a debt of life proportions. He had eventually returned the favor when Gabe found himself trapped in the gap, in the metal of his wreck. For the eagle, the wizard had to sacrifice wings, but managed to keep Gabe alive through the umbilical power of the Aboriginal goddess Eingana, whom he must worship. What had Maureen said when she met me in her metaphysical store? “Whatever we seek, we shall find”? Or did she say “It shall find us”? Suddenly her words became a crucial piece in the puzzle of my understanding. And now Gabe would face the ultimate transformation: to challenge the strength of his medicine protection, to rise above his limits and leap. That’s why his ankle’s tattoo wasn’t complete: the ending had yet to be written. Like a true empowered god, Gabe would write it himself. If he survived.
“You can’t help it.” I understood what this meant for him. It was the ultimate race. A once-in-a-lifetime chance to satisfy an ageless hunger. Before he became the man I was in love with, Gabe was a Cloud Dweller.
I wiped my eyes with the tip of my fingers, smearing tears left and right. “I want to go home, Gabe.”
“Me too, Porzia.”
*
We drove back up Adelaide’s hills and made it home right before the sun lost its battle with gathering clouds, and rain began to pound against the double-paned windows. As soon as we stepped inside, I asked Gabe to please light a fire. I left him in the living room with wood and matches and walked to the kitchen where I opened a bottle of Umeracha Shiraz and grabbed two glasses. Outside in the darkness, thunder echoed lightning while inside, flames finally flickered in the fireplace. Gabe sat in front of it and accepted the glass of wine.
“We’re gonna get drunk.”
“Salute,” I said, sitting on the sofa. I kicked my boots off and tucked my legs under my hips.
“We haven’t eaten anything all day.” He touched his glass to mine.
“I can’t think of food.”
He smiled sadly. “That’s a first.”
I tilted my glass and took a long sip. The rich wine splashed in my stomach, a foaming wave against a strong cliff, and warmed me from the inside out. I leaned against the soft cushions and looked at Gabe’s face reflecting the blazing flames. He sipped the wine, inches away from me. My knees almost touched his shoulder. Every contact with his body now took on a stronger, infinite meaning, enhanced by limited time, impossible to enjoy fully.
I finished my wine, poured myself another, and topped Gabe’s. My head was getting lighter and my fears crawled drunkenly toward the recesses of my mind. I locked them back there and drank more wine. At the end of the second glass, sad to say, I felt pretty wasted, all my belligerent arguments, as the gods would have them, forgotten.
I fell asleep on the sofa and barely felt Gabe’s powerful arms lift me up to carry me to the bedroom where he undressed me. A vague idea of blankets covering my body skimmed my consciousness before sleep mercifully took over.
*
I woke up to darkness and silence.
Alone.
Heaven up above had tilted the bucket in one last surge of rain, like a child crying empty tears at the end of a tantrum. The sky was drained, and we both knew it.
I shoved the blankets off and got up, realizing Gabe must have slipped his white T-shirt on me before tucking me in bed. Silence engulfed the house; only dim light guided my steps.
Gabe was on the couch, awake, wearing black boxers and the exhausted look of a warrior who has defeated demons, at a price.
I walked up to him silently but knew he’d heard me.
On the mantel, the clock chimed two a.m., the darkest hour before morning.
The envelope lay open on the coffee table. Unsurprisingly, a pattern of wings was barely visible in the folded invitation.
I sat next to him, and he took my right hand in his. His lips brushed my open palm, and I exhaled.
“I’m going, Porzia.”
His golden hair shone thick and within reach, a mere brush away from my fingertips. Once again—just like that day, months ago on the plane, before I knew him—fear of reaching and pull paralyzed me.
Instead of fighting such fear, I nodded slowly as if the air had suddenly thickened into an amniotic liquid I had forgotten how to breathe in. I was going to drown instead.
I got up and walked back to the bedroom. I lay in bed and closed my eyes, thinking, If I fall back to sleep it will all go away.
But I knew better.
When I heard his soft footsteps, I spoke quietly to the shadow in the doorframe. “I’m going home.”
Silence.
“Not because—”
“I know why, Porzia. No need to explain.” He stopped me in mid-sentence.
“OK then,” I said to the darkness.
I felt him in bed next to me a second before his heat hugged my chilled body.
“You know I love you.”
I started sobbing uncontrollably. “That’s why it hurts so much.”
CHAPTER 39
Clark would never forgive me.
He had counted on me to hold Gabe back. But how do you stop the wind from blowing? The rain from falling? A Dreamtime seed from blooming?
Blinded by love, he had underestimated his son and the need consuming Gabe from within.
Gomi knew better and probably suspected some of the mystical. So he’d quietly done his best to prepare, not only securing state of the art equipment, but ultimately focusing on what mattered most: endurance.
The day I left Oz, he hugged me, flashing his dazzling smile. I guess he respected the fact I was stepping back, allowing Gabe to live his life no matter what the price.
“This is ultimate love, Porzia,” he whispered in my hair. “The unconditional, selfless kind. The one that means you love somebody to the point of allowing them a chance to their fate—if that’s what they need to do.”
*
I will not talk about saying good-bye to Gabe at the airport.
Nor will I mention our last night together. It’s impossible to even summon the memory of it. That’s for me to cherish alone.
How do you love that which you don’t know? I had wondered long ago. Now I knew him and love. And what if he was the one I shared m
ore than a lifetime with?
Now I faced the excruciating chance he would be taking in two months.
No, I will speak no more about it. But I will talk about the endless flight from hell I endured with distance spreading against my will.
I left him.
For fuck’s sake, I did.
I loved him so much I left.
And we’re not talking about trying to be brave or fishing for a standing ovation. What he loved the most was going to take him away from me.
In the last hours, his heavenly eyes burned with damning fever, the racing in his blood come to life once more.
I didn’t tell anybody about the change of plans.
I wanted to crawl back home unnoticed.
I should have known better.
In a comatose state, I walked out of the connecting tunnel into the airport’s unforgiving, artificial neon light and saw a human-size owl. I squinted and the owl shifted into Evalena. Still dealing with the vision, almost expecting to embrace feathers, I felt her arms close around my trembling shoulders, and, hating myself for thinking it, I wished she was Gabe.
“I know, Porzia.”
“How can you?” I burst into loud sobs.
“I just do, honey.” She let me hide my tears against her shoulder.
We drove away in silence. Still crying, I stared out the window through diluted images. Pensacola looked strange. Adelaide was home.
What the hell?
My future with Gabe hung from a thin line. I knew nothing. How could I even think of Oz as home?
I guess when distressed, the mind plays awful tricks.
“Peridot is at home, Evalena?”
“Yes, dear. I stopped by Benedetta’s this afternoon and brought him home,” she said. “I thought you’d like to have him waiting for you.”
“Did you see her?”
“Of course. She opened the door to let me in.” She smiled. “I haven’t mastered walking through walls quite yet.”
Too bad.
“You told her I was coming home?”
Evalena nodded in the beams of an oncoming car. “Yes. She didn’t ask questions. She’s a smart girl. Whenever you’re ready to talk, she’ll listen.”
“OK. And how about you?” I asked suspiciously. “One thing is to feel I was having trouble, but to be waiting for me at the airport, and for the exact flight, is pushing it.”
“Gabe called.”
My heart shot up my throat. “When?”
“I guess right after you left.”
“How does he have your number?”
“We’re listed, dear.”
“But you’re not even living at your house.”
“Moved back two days ago.”
“Caspita! Perfect timing, eh?”
“Why are you surprised?”
A pang of irrational anger tinged my words the color of bile. “Well, since you know everything—tell me why the hell is this happening?”
Evalena pulled into my parking lot and rolled the car to a halt before answering me. She cut the engine and faced me, leaning one elbow on the back of her car seat. “You don’t want to talk about this now. You ought to climb upstairs, say hello to your kitty, and take a bath, if you have the energy, then go to sleep. Answers can wait ’til the morrow.”
“I don’t want to wait,” I complained in a petulant tone I didn’t know I was capable of. I hated it.
Evalena smiled. “You have the answers already. That’s why you’re back here.”
I burst into tears and hid my face in my cupped hands. They smelled stale and dirty. The forward motion of flying still rattled my bones. “I want to know if he’s Xavier. I want to know why? And I want to know if he’s going to die. And why didn’t I recognize him?”
There, I said it all out loud. My fears concretized into real enemies in front of me and I wasn’t even armed for bloody battle!
“Porzia, you’re in no condition to discuss these matters right now. Please let me help you get settled upstairs, and we can talk about it calmly tomorrow sometime.”
I finally agreed but only because I was exhausted.
We got out of the car, unloaded my bag, and walked by the oleander. The tree was thriving. In little over a week it had bloomed beautifully.
In a little over a week?
I cast a silent prayer.
Evalena waited for me and then helped carry my bag up to the front door. Right behind it we found Peridot standing at full attention. He welcomed us with loud purring and serious leg rubbing. I scooped him up in my arms and gave him a proper thank you. His fur felt soft and warm to the touch, unconditional comfort and love. Just what I needed.
Evalena brought my bag to the bedroom, gave me one last hug, and left me alone.
Way past midnight and no moon in sight.
She had switched the bedroom lamp on, and I followed the light with Peridot still curled in my arms. I switched the lamp off, sat on the bed, and kicked off my shoes, then relaxed, stretching my achy back on the familiar softness of my pillows, and closed my eyes to face the demons.
In the dark.
Two months.
The Oz Endurance was set for the end of December, right before the end of the millennium. There was plenty of time to drive myself crazy.
I opened my eyes and released Peridot from the constricting hold I had on him. Purring happily, he snuggled in at the foot of my bed.
The answering machine was blinking furiously, and, impulsively, I reached to hit the play button.
Gabe’s voice came on as if he were standing there in the darkness, one of the demons. I closed my eyes, carefully focusing on his words. “Porzia, I hope you’ve made it. Give a ring when you get in will ya, please?”
A second message followed. “I forgot to say thank you.”
The third message was from my father; to call home and where the hell was I?
I deleted my father’s message, making a mental note to call them tomorrow. I hit play one more time and fell asleep listening to Gabe’s voice thanking me.
*
I slept soundly, like a rock at the bottom of a deep ocean, oblivious to the turbulent surf above.
Trapped under my chest, my right arm was dead asleep. Slowly, painstakingly, I pulled it free and felt it tingle as blood rushed through it, and with blood came the memories.
The fear of the looming day and lacking the strength to deal with it all made me want to crawl back under the covers and sleep through it.
Slowly, groggily, I got up instead.
I walked to the bathroom and jumped at the grotesque face staring back from the mirror. I looked like a frozen pizza. A still-wrapped frozen pizza. How ugly. Red sleep folds streaked my right cheek like stiff mozzarella. My eyes resembled swollen olives and my nose had mutated into a cluster of iced tomato sauce. Let’s not mention the bitter line thinning my lips and the blotched blemishes on my chin. Mamma mia!
I washed my face and rinsed with plenty of cold water. I looked a bit better but still felt like somebody had rollerbladed all over me. I walked back to the bedroom where I noticed a small aromatherapy burner on my dresser. My nose twitched, catching a subtle scent. No wonder I had fallen asleep so easily.
Evalena, I thought. The smile cracking my lips felt foreign.
CHAPTER 40
The following days became a blur of dull pain, fogged up emotions, and the piercing sound of the phone constantly ringing.
I called my family and spoke briefly with my father. I told him I had just gotten home from a long flight and would call back later on when I felt better. I hung up thinking that I had no intention of ever calling home again. I had no intention of ever speaking again. I felt so depressed and tired I didn’t even return Gabe’s phone call. I barely ate or fed Peridot. I didn’t go out, not even to check the mai
l. I drew the curtains and slept. I drank water, munched on stale cookies, and never changed out of my pajamas. I hardly washed my face or brushed my teeth. I switched the answering machine off and, after a few hours of unceasing ringing, I yanked the phone cord from the wall, hid my head under the pillow, and fell back asleep. The few times I climbed out of bed, Peridot followed me silently and came back to the bedroom to curl at my feet as I gratefully found relief in Morpheus’s arms.
*
I honestly don’t remember how much time I spent in such a state, but I most definitely remember thinking that people should mind their own damn business—friends especially—when the loud banging at my front door startled me from a dream I could not recall to save my life, but had a sense it might have been important. I smashed the pillow on my head to muffle the incessant noise, but I knew whoever was causing such havoc wasn’t going to stop any time soon.
“Porzia! Open the door before I call the cops, for heaven’s sake!” a strong voice commanded.
Interestingly enough, I had no idea to whom the voice belonged. I unburied my head and waited a few seconds for the voice to resume talking. It didn’t, but the loud knocking carried on.
I scrambled out of bed and grabbed my robe. “OK, OK . . . I’m coming!” I yelled above the thundering. I peeked through the eyehole and caught the rim of a wide straw hat tilted over a sharp profile. The acrid smell of cigarillo reached my keen nostrils as I cracked the door open, and Camille Weir stormed in like a stale-scented genie unleashed from a tobacco-plantation magic lamp, if one can imagine such a novelty.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Perhaps instead of genie, I ought to have used the word demon. I opened my mouth to speak but tightened my robe against my chest instead. She closed the door and took two steps back to get a better look at me. “Dear heavens, Porzia, you look awful.”
“Thanks.”
“And what is this smell?” she asked, crinkling her posh nose. Wasting no time, she extinguished her cigarillo, walked up to the windows, and spread the curtains open; all of them, including the bedroom ones. She walked all over my place with her designer shoes clicking disapproving noises on the hardwood floors while I stood like an idiot, frozen by the front door. I held on to my robe, a lifesaver, and wondered what smell was she talking about that could be worse than what she smoked.
Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series) Page 43
