“Hi! You just get in? I haven't seen you here before.”
“What? No, got here Friday, yesterday- seems like forever ago.”
The wide-eyed brunette crinkled her freckled nose in confusion, and then perkily launched into introductions, “My name's Trina- that's short for Katherine, and this is Jennifer…”
“Hi,” the blond replied coolly, lowering her head to gaze up at Chris through dusky lashes. “It’s just ‘Jen’.”
“Hi, Trina- Jen, I'm Chris.” Chris extended a hand in greeting. Jen took his hand with a cool, gentle touch, silky and smooth, and Trina held him far longer than was probably necessary, clearly sizing him up as they touched. Without releasing his hand, her fingers stroking his palm, she inquired, “So, Chris... your first time in Hawaii?”
“Uh- yeah...”
“Having a good time?”
Chris retracted his hand and shrugged, “Haven’t died yet- so- yeah, I guess you could say so.”
Trina continued chirpily, glossing over Chris’ odd comment, “Me too... my first time here, I mean. Jen and I are still kind of hoping to have a good time. I've been saving forever to come here. Jen and I are on vacation, we're roommates at IU. So, what brings you to the Islands?”
Chris replied, still distracted, “Me? Oh, my final days of freedom...”
“I'm sorry… freedom from what?”
“…the rest of my life.”
Trina’s face crinkled again. “What do you mean- 'the rest of your life', you're not going to jail, are you?”
“I might as well be.” Chris shrugged in resignation, “No, I'll be joining my father's business in a couple of days...”
Jen chimed in, smiling slightly, “Is that bad?”
Chris replied with mock-despair, “Terminal.”
Jen leaned over and lightly touched his hand. “Gosh, you make it sound like you have cancer, or something.”
“Nah, nothing that fortunate. This is a much longer, lingering death- probably won't take me until I'm at least eighty.”
Jen laughed- a crystalline, musical sound, “Oh, come on, it can't be that bad.”
“Oh, trust me- it's far, far worse.”
Trina countered, genuinely interested now, “So, what's your Dad do?”
“Ever heard of 'Matthews Incorporated'?”
Not exactly a Dow Jones analyst, Trina responded, “Uh, no.”
Chris continued as if he hadn’t heard her, addressing them both a bit of barely restrained vitriol, “You ever wonder why so much of the cheap plastic crap you buy is made in some third world nation?” Jen and Trina just stared, “My Dad is why...”
Trina replied flatly, “Oh.” And then her chirpy nature resurfaced, and she got to her point, “Hey, have you noticed how little night-life there is around here?”
“Hadn't really thought of it...”
“Well, we have. I mean, we dig the beaches and all- But there's like nothing to do here at night! What have you been up to? You been anywhere since you got here?”
Chris started to respond, again almost launching into his wild tale of adventure, and then hesitated as the whole weirdness of it made him pause in reflection. He decided to take the easy way out. “Me? Uh, no, I got here really late last night… and today-? Just spent it kicking back, enjoying the peace and quiet, you know? So, no, I guess not, nothing much really.”
“Oh- cool. So anyway, Jen and me, we were wondering, maybe, if you were interested, in like going to a club with us.”
“With- both of you?”
“Uh, yeah- You're okay with that, aren't you?”
Chris leaned back on the bar, taking them both in with a cool gaze of appraisal. The oblique offer from Angel was certainly enticing, and the waitress at the restaurant was deliciously intriguing, but this- the possibility of a threesome? This appealed to more than just his ego- it tugged at his unquenchable sense of adventure. His smile spread and his dimples deepened to their fullest as he replied, “Sure. Why not, I don't have anything else planned tonight…”
The trio rose, polishing off drinks with haste, and Chris looped an arm over Trina’s shoulder and the other around Jen’s waist as they began to head toward the stairs at the opposite end of the pool area. They had just placed their feet on the first steps when a stiff gust of island breeze carried with it yet another distinct tinkling of the mysterious wind chimes. Chris suddenly stopped and his eyes narrowed as he looked pointedly off into the distance, his brows furrowing in tortured curiosity as he sought the source of the mysterious chimes. He awkwardly disengaged himself from the girls and said in vaguely apologetic fashion as he continued to look from side to side, vainly seeking the source of the enigmatic sounds, “Well- maybe some other time. Thanks, though.” And with that he began to hastily move off in the opposite direction, his pained and forced smile morphing into a twisted frown.
Trina whirled around in confusion as she watched Chris walk into the distance, unsure of what had just happened and cried, “What?! But you just said-”
Chris turned and replied with a flaccid wave of conciliation, “I'm sorry. Some other time- okay?” And then his pace quickened as he strode away, disappearing around a row of cabanas and into the night.
An incredulous moment later, Trina shook her head and replied, “Yeah, sure. Whatever. C'mon Jen-” And then she stalked off, Jen striding beside her, still looking back in askance at the now-absent form of Chris, asking no one in specific, “What the hell-?”
Trina responded by throwing her hands to the heavens in exasperation, “Shit, I don't know. Maybe he's actually- gay.”
The gentle melody of the mystical chimes drifted back and forth on the breeze as Chris rounded the far corner of the hotel, but this time actually building in volume rather than diminishing. Chris walked along the darkened side of the building, the waves exploding on the rocks below, the water misting him with a warm salty spray that scattered in the wind. Chris flinched slightly and turned his face from the sea, and it was then that he finally he saw it- the enigmatic source of the mysterious musical chimes.
It was a tiny, glass walled building, most likely a wedding chapel of some sort, standing in solitary silence in the darkened courtyard. The multi-faceted panes of etched and beveled glass sparkled from the light of a single tapered candle that flickered from within, painting the whole structure with a thousand points of color and light. Chris approached the building and then stopped and studied it in focused curiosity with hands on hips, noticing the singular door in the center of the glass wall before him. Fully expecting the structure to be locked up tight and secure for the night, Chris inexplicably reached for the handle and gave it a twist-
And the door popped open.
Abigail and Walter leaned against the rail on the rear deck of the ‘Evening Star,’ a calm, fragrant breeze blowing backlit puffs of cloud across the sky, the huge full Moon painting a fractured path of light back to the ship. Abigail looked to the oddly silent Walter with a look of gentle concern as the sounds of a Jazz Combo softly emanated from the interior of the ship’s ballroom.
“Walter, you're so quiet, what are you thinking?”
“Oh, I don't know... Do you think I've been too hard on him?”
“Who, Chris? I'll leave that for you to decide. Personally, I've always thought so, but I figured you had your reasons.”
“Well, I did... But now I'm beginning to wonder.” Walter turned and looked out to sea, contemplating his destiny on the horizon. “I don't do anything without just cause- you know that, right?”
“You've always given me that impression. What's this have to do with our son?”
“Well, it's just that... He's my only hope…”
“For what?”
“For the future of Matthew's… for us.” Walter gazed at the distant Moon and sighed, “You were right, you know.”
Abigail smiled a loving smile at her husband and kissed him lightly on the cheek as Walter conceded the point. “I usually am. What was I right about this time?
”
“The fact that I need to let go, to walk away, before it's too late.” Walter turned to Abigail, studying her face intently, and then looked away to the sea, leaning tiredly on the rail with both hands as he continued, “Abby, this job is slowly killing me. I had a checkup a couple of weeks ago, Dad insisted.”
“And-?”
“Marvin told me that if I don't slow down, and soon, I might just implode. I guess I- I guess it scared me a little bit.” Walter glanced over his shoulder at Abigail and then his gaze drifted again to the horizon. “Honey, I'm afraid that if I don't get him ready, prepare him for what he is going to be up against, he won't be ready to take over.”
Abigail frowned and took both of Walter’s hands in her own, fixing her gaze with his as she stared concernedly up at him. “Does he really have to? Take over? I mean, look at him- he's miserable. That little episode at the club should have made that crystal clear.” She smiled encouragingly and asked brightly, “What about Michael, couldn't he step in?”
Walter stiffened, scowling, and replied, “Mike? No way. Honey, both you and I know that my dear brother Michael is a spineless fool. There's no way Dad is going to let him run the company. Chris has the brains, and the drive, to keep that going. No one else even remotely does.”
“Not even Dan? He graduated top of his class at Wharton.”
Walter looked aghast, “Oh, my God, Abigail, I can't even believe you suggested that. Dan? No way. Honey- in case you haven’t noticed, our lovely nephew makes a Klingon look polite.”
“Well, what are you going to do? Maybe it's not too late to bring him around. Talk to him. Tell him the truth.”
“Abby, I don't know... What if it backfires, what if by telling him how important he is, it turns him into another Dan? Then we're right back to where we are now.”
“There's only one way to find out. Talk to him. Explain the situation. Maybe he'll understand.”
“I suppose you're right.” He looked quickly to Abigail as a tilted smile of amusement formed on her lips and said, “Don’t…” And then he smiled dourly to himself as the weight of the situation caused his broad shoulders to sag and he again went disturbingly silent.
As Walter ruminated in pained silence, the Moon suddenly popped from behind a wisp of cloud, its light illuminating Walter like a light bulb over his head and he exclaimed in a burst of revelation, “That’s it!” He turned to Abigail with genuine excitement and said, “I know what I’ll do- I'll take him out golfing in the morning, just him and me. That will give me a chance to present this to him, give him a chance to consider what it is he needs to do.” He looked to Abigail with a gaze that begged assurance. “You really think this will work?”
“What choice do you have?”
“None. You're right, again.” And with that, he placed a finger on her smiling lips, stifling the inevitable reply, as the jazz combo began a cover of Norah Jones’ ‘Come Away With Me’. Walter smiled endearingly as he embraced Abigail around the shoulder and steered her back inside the ship. “C'mon, they're playing our song.”
“Loveable liar- we don't have a 'song'.”
“No? Then it's high time we did. Come on, I feel a need to just hold you, and let tomorrow take care of itself.”
Chris closed the door of the chapel with a tiny ‘click’, and both the sound of the sea and the music of the chimes fell strangely silent. He crossed to the singular candle like a moth to the light, curiously fascinated by its softly flickering flame, and leaned in for a closer look. The flame in the narrow glass cylinder suddenly flared with unexpected brilliance, and again the world flashed-
But this time to somewhere else entirely.
This time, it was not the smeary monochrome of his past- it was a vision of his future. The scenes and pictures were more like a movie montage, Chris watching the flickering images from a point apart, seeing visions of a future that was the stuff of dreams or nightmares- alternately colorized or black and white, a Christopher Nolan imagining of his life, each clip flickering and jumping with a kaleidoscopic fracturing, the point of view slashing from near to far- from extreme close-up to broad panorama…
…A fish-eye view of a crowded boardroom, tumultuous applause from the dozens of gathered board members, Chris bowing gently in acknowledgement-
…to a reflection of himself, older, hairline receding and the lines of life etched on his handsome face, reflected in the glass of a penthouse office, his view of the city below smoky and smeary from the clouds and the streaking of rain on the windows-
…to a sharply cut montage of Alani- his first vision of her, sitting in stunned disbelief on the road, a dirty red puddle of mud surrounding her; and then the hospital, a coquettish grin tracing a tilted line on her face- then the store, as she hesitated and fled- then the road, her hair lank and dripping, her face grease-streaked and twisted in frustration- and then- she disappeared in a blur, her features replaced with those of…
…Evangeline, holding out her hands in expectation, a stack of shopping at her feet- the background empty behind her-
…and back to Alani, older now, running away from him on a hazy and Vaseline-lensed beach, two small dark-haired children chasing at her heels, laughing with childlike glee- as a wave crashed and a gull screeched-
…to a vision of himself, older still, as he opened the Business page of the newspaper, a crude caricature of him holding two ‘Monopoly’ bags of money, a jaunty cigar protruding from his lips as he stood on the necks of two ‘slave laborers’- ‘Made in China’ written across their twisted forms-
…to Alani, much older, streaks of gray in her glossy dark hair, as he saw her in profile and reflection in a rain-streaked window-
…and back to himself, now an old and decrepit man, the world outside his window dark and gloomy, a foggy dew occluding his view of anything beyond, the reflection of the office behind him sterile and empty.
The old man that was Chris slowly turned and saw a singular candle, identical to the one in the chapel. And as he watched, a gust of wind extinguished it, plunging his vision into a complete and terrifying darkness…
And the world of his visions sharply fractured and slashed back to normal.
Chris whirled around in confusion, the disturbing visions still reverberating within his mind, the acrid scent of candle smoke stinging his nostrils as he noticed- it was dark. He turned and staggered blindly out of the crystal chapel, knocking over several chairs in his haste, backing through the door and fleeing without even attempting to close it.
As he emerged into the warm night air, the sound of sea again crashed into his awareness and he paused and took in a slow, troubled breath, regaining his bearings and shaking the final persistence of vision from his mind as he slowly revolved in a circle to re-orient himself with reality.
“Whooo- SHIT!” he exclaimed, looking around to see if anyone else had witnessed his latest diversion from the norm. Simultaneously relieved by his solitariness and saddened by the fact that he had no one to share the epic weirdness of it, he slowly, haltingly began to continue his walk along the sea-side path around the hotel, watching with a strange new perspective the glowing luminescent waves as he savored the sharp tang of the ocean breeze.
As he climbed to the top of the stairs that completed his circumnavigation of the hotel grounds, he found himself having returned to his point of origin just to the side of the brightly lit hotel lobby, the soft strains of IZ’s ‘Starting All Over Again’ drifting from the hidden speakers. He paused at its entrance and suddenly felt his gaze being tugged out to the sparsely-populated parking lot- where he saw the most incongruous sight. It was a bus-stop, a solitary figure sitting on its lone bench, back-lit by the cold glow of fluorescent lights. And with a cold certainty of realization, he knew exactly who it was.
Sauntering with a deliberate and forced casualness to the side of the lonely bus-stop, Chris leaned around the corner of the bench and greeted Alani with a now-familiar phrase, “Uh- Hi. What are you doing here?”
Alani whirled on him and said with unexpected vehemence, “I'm waiting for the bus! What the hell does it look like I'm doing?”
“Oh, right- sorry. Do, uh- do buses still run this late?”
Alani shrugged in dejection and looked expectantly up the road. “Yeah, there's gonna be another one in about half an hour.”
Chris leaned against the side of the bus stop, his pale attempt at being casual fading and he said with a shrug of his own, “You know, I could give you a ride, if you didn't want to wait.”
Alani softened slightly and said, “No. That's okay. I'll wait. Thanks.”
“Are you sure? It must take you forever to get home on the bus.”
Alani replied with a hint of tension edging her voice, “No, I'm fine, okay? I've got nothing better to do anyway.”
“You're kidding.”
Alani erupted, her voice tight and a glimmer of tears behind her lovely jade eyes, “No, I'M NOT KIDDING!! If I had something better to do, don't you think I'd be doing it?” She paused, a short sniff and a slow, stuttered intake of breath softening her demeanor as she continued, “I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you. It's just- it’s nothing, okay?”
“Just- what?”
Alani looked at Chris with a wide-eyed stare of reluctant defeat. “You really want to know? Fine. After work, my friends, they just- left.” She continued, mockingly, “They're all going dancing. I shouldn't be mad- it's not really their fault. I never hang out with them afterward anyway.”
“Really? Why not?”
“It's a long story...”
Over the Rainbow - Book One - 'The Gathering Place' Page 14
