* * *
Alex sat as if frozen in time, staring at the black screen and shaking.
“You had a premonition,” Uriel prodded.
“Yeah, yeah, I did. But I didn’t tell her, ’cause I didn’t want to sound stupid.”
“Would it have made a difference, if you’d told her? Do you think she would have stayed home, just because you had a bad feeling?”
“Maybe. Maybe if I’d really tried, really insisted,” Alex said, “she might have stayed home just to humor me. And if I’d really believed that accident was going to happen, I suppose I would have.”
“But you weren’t that sure…”
He shrugged wistfully. “It was too vague, you know? I wasn’t sure.”
“And if you had kept her from going, and thus there’d been no crash, then you’d never have known if that inner voice was worth listening to, would you? Nor where it was coming from?”
Alex turned in his seat to look at Uriel, a small light bulb going off. “That was my memory warning me? From having lived through it before?”
“Let’s go on,” Uriel said. “Remember this?”
* * *
On the movie screen in front of the stage, the scene which now appeared was the outside of a modest white wood frame home, at night. The city neighborhood in which it was located was a combination of older apartment buildings and small homes, sandwiched between mom-and-pop shops and larger businesses, their hand-painted and neon signs all bilingual: Japanese script and English.
Alex, now about a year older, walked through the white wrought iron gate that fenced off the home from the riff-raff of the world, and up the cracked cement path. He appeared stiff and self-conscious in the light blue tuxedo, trying hard not to look at the curtained windows ahead, as if sure he was being watched and evaluated. He carried a corsage box in one hand and a gift bag full of small brightly wrapped presents in the other. He glanced down at them, now that he was on the porch, hoping he’d done the right thing. Well, Gena had advised it.
He took a deep breath, then knocked on the door and took a quick step back, waiting. He was just about to knock again when the door was opened by an unsmiling Japanese American man in his mid-fifties. Standing behind him in the entry hall was a pleasant-looking little woman a few years younger, with a face of perpetual sadness and unquenchable hope. Alex gave a formal little bow, just as Gena had coached him, then grinned nervously. The father returned the bow without smiling and stepped aside, comically lifting his eyebrow and making a face for his wife’s amusement behind Alex’s back as he passed. The mother stifled a giggle.
Watching this from the auditorium, Alex looked surprised.
“I thought Gena said he was really strict, that he hated the idea of her dating, but…he doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Maybe he learned by his estrangement from his first daughter,” Uriel suggested. “Or maybe he just got old.”
Alex paused in the entry hall, fumbling in the gift bag he carried while Gena’s father and mother watched patiently. He pulled out a small wrapped gift, which he handed to the father with a tiny bow of his head. The father accepted the gift with a similar nod. Alex glanced upward, to where Gena had just appeared at the top of the stairs. She wore a beautiful embroidered silk, full-length gown, and his mouth literally dropped open. Gena smiled, then signaled him with eye movements and little head gestures that he should give a present to her mother now.
He quickly dug in the bag and produced another wrapped gift, which he handed to the mother, his eyes still fixated on Gena. The sweet-faced little woman smiled graciously and bowed more deeply, a gesture which Alex returned in full measure. Gena now pointed toward the living room, where her tiny, frail, parchment skinned grandmother sat in an overstuffed chair, looking as small as a child and as royal as her many years allowed. By this time Gena’s parents had caught on to the action between Gena and Alex, and they too nodded, signaling him to follow them into the living room. There he bowed deeply and formally to the ancient matriarch, and offered her his last gift, which she accepted with a confused little smile at her son and daughter-in-law.
“Who is this?” she asked, squinting at Alex, then turning back to her son. “Who is it?”
They all sat in awkward silence, Alex at the very edge of his chair as if he might bolt at any second, until Gena made her formal entrance a moment later. They rose as she entered the room, all but the grandmother, and Alex went up to her, shy and awkward and agog at her beauty.
“I got this corsage,” he said, holding out the clear plastic box.
“Okay…” said Gena with a wry little grin.
She tilted her head back so he could pin it to her dress, but he got so embarrassed, trying to affix it to her bosom under the father’s chary scrutiny, that he dropped it twice. Finally the mother came forward to take the corsage from Alex and attach it to the bodice of the evening gown. Alex, relieved of the responsibility, mimicked wiping sweat from his brow, which elicited a giggle from Gena and even a reluctant smile from her stern-faced father.
As Alex and Gena walked away from the house, they were careful to maintain six inches of separation between them, what with the father, mother and grandmother all watching from the doorway. The mother waved, the father scowled and shook his head, and the grandmother kept asking, “Who was that boy? Who was that?”
On the screen, close up Gena whispered out of the side of her mouth to Alex, “Don’t worry, you did fine.”
And Alex, in a pitch perfect imitation of Billy Crystal in The Princess Bride, whispered back, “‘Have fun storming the castle, kids!”
Gena threw a hand over her mouth, caution to the winds, to stifle the eruption of laughter.
The scene on the movie screen did a slow dissolve to the decorated high school gymnasium where the senior prom was being held. Swirling lights from a multifaceted glass globe turning slowly in the center of the room played across the faces and gowns of the dancers. The drama stage crew had done a good job with the lighting, hitting the globe from all four corners of the gymnasium rafters with spots of blue, green, red and white.
Glow-in-the dark cut out stars hung down on invisible wires, giving the dancers the feeling they were floating in space. The young rock band had finally settled down to playing a slow number, the old George Harrison favorite “Something;” and Alex and Gena were dancing cheek to cheek in the middle of all this atmosphere. After a minute, Gena pulled back her head to look up into Alex’s face as they danced—young enough to trust an unflinching gaze into the eyes of her beloved, her own eyes alight with love, her face radiant and beautiful.
The angle reversed to young Alex. His eyes filled with emotion looking down at her.
Uriel glanced over at Alex as he watched this scene, and he smiled to see the desired result on the astronaut’s face.
* * *
The scene on the movie screen down in front had subtly changed. The close up on Alex, who was still looking down, his eyes full of emotion, moved back to reveal that he no longer wore the blue tuxedo but a white surgical gown instead. In his arms, he no longer held Gena but his newborn son. And the emotion that filled his eyes as he gazed on the infant was subtly different as well, a wonderful complex of awe, amazement, tenderness, protectiveness and love. He looked over at Gena with the same complex of emotions. She was laid out, spread legged, on the delivery table, being tended by the doctor and nurse as they cleaned and stitched her up. But she seemed oblivious to their ministrations, with eyes only for Alex and their newborn son. And she’d never looked more beautiful.
“Look at him, Gen!” Alex whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “Look what you made! This is the greatest thing in the world…this is the very best thing anyone could ever do in their entire life!”
Tears ran unashamed down Alex’s cheeks, and Gena’s eyes too were overflowing. She looked at Alex with surprise and affection, to see this unexpected new side of him. Then he bent over and oh-so-carefully laid the infant in her arms, kissing
her on the forehead as he did so.
“Thank you,” he told her, “oh, thank you so much, Gena. I’m sorry it hurt you, I really am, but I…I love him! I love him and I love you with every ounce of my being.”
* * *
In the auditorium, as Alex watched this tender moment, tears once again overran his eyes. He wiped at his face with his hands.
“I miss them,” he said hoarsely, “I miss them both so much. I messed up…”
The scene on the movie screen faded, the auditorium lights came up.
“So, does this mean you’re ready to go back, do it all again?” Uriel asked.
Alex turned to him. “You said that going back I could change things, right the wrongs, avoid mistakes?”
“That’s correct. You could keep your mom from going on that drive, do things a little differently with Gena and Andy….”
Alex contemplated this a moment. “What about now?” he asked finally.
“I’m not sure I get your meaning,” Uriel replied.
“I mean, I’d like to see how they’re doing now without me.”
“Why? It’s the same moment you saw last time, Alex. They’re in Mission Control, they’ve just witnessed your crash, just realized you died. Up there…”
“But what about later, when they go on? I want to see that.”
“It hasn’t occurred yet.”
“Of course it has,” Alex insisted. “You say I’ve lived this life before, right? That’s why I had that premonition about Mom. So, I died, they coped, they went on…. I want to see it.”
“That aspect, the future, changes every time you play the role, Alex. Right now everything’s on hold, waiting for you to decide what you’re going to do. Time has essentially stopped. And this ending won’t turn out exactly the same as the last one regardless.”
Alex sighed, mulling this over. Then he looked up at Uriel, his expression calculating. “Okay then,” he said, “let me take one last look at their reactions to my death before I decide.”
“Oh, all right! Fine,” Uriel conceded, growing a little exasperated. “Let’s put them on stage, though, and do it right.”
He pushed a button on the control panel, and the movie screen at the front of the auditorium once more rose, exposing the stage behind, set with the holographic 3D portrayal of Mission Control during the final moment before the crash. Flight personnel and reporters were in a cacophony of excitement and horror. In the large visual monitor on the front wall Alex was seen frantically trying to bring the space vehicle out of its spin, as Jupiter tumbled in and out of view on the other large monitor, and Europa’s surface grew ever closer and more distinct on the small viewing screen above Alex’s head in the space vehicle itself.
“It’s working, Ray!” Alex shouted. “I think I got it….”
A huge fireball filled both viewing screens on the front wall of Mission Control.
Alex got up from his seat in the auditorium and walked toward the stage, as Andy and Gena, up in the viewing area reacted to his crash. He’d reached the stage just as Andy jumped up and pressed his hands against the glass partition, yelling “Dad!”
Then Alex stepped into the hologram of Mission Control.
Ray Petersen, staring up at the big screen in shock, said quietly, “Oh my God! We’ve lost him!” as Alex entered the stage.
Others in the room reacted in various ways, swearing, crying, pounding their fists on monitors, or simply staring open-mouthed, frozen in disbelief. A moment later Gena and Andy raced onto the Mission Control floor from a side door.
“Ray, no! Oh no!” she cried out forlornly. “It isn’t, it can’t be….”
Ray grabbed her by the shoulders, then pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly as she sobbed. He reached out another arm to draw in and comfort Andy, almost as an afterthought.
Alex walked around the pair curiously, looking at them from different angles. He noticed Ray’s lips brush Gena’s hair in a secretive little kiss, then noticed how the man’s hips were pressed up against Gena more tightly than required for mere comforting.
“Be brave, Gena; it’s gonna be okay, trust me,” the flight director murmured.
Alex stared carefully at Ray’s eyes: they didn’t look all that distraught. Reporters were shouting questions, but somehow they didn’t reach Alex, remaining just a muffled backdrop against which the real drama played out.
After a moment Gena pulled away from Ray, as if a little embarrassed by his embrace . She reached out for Andy, who’d stepped back from the two of them to stand alone and uncomforted in his shock and grief.
“Oh, Andy, oh baby…I’m so sorry,” Gena cried.
With his wife removed from the man’s embrace, Alex was able get a visual on Ray’s crotch, where he discovered there was a small but noticeable bulge. His eyes narrowed with growing comprehension. Just then Andy began to lash out in anger as he’d done before. This time, however, Alex heard his words a little differently, as his understanding of the situation grew.
“He got exactly what he wanted, didn’t he? It’s all he ever wanted!” the boy screamed.
…At Ray, Alex now realized.
And as Andy looked up angrily at Ray; mimicking him in a mocking voice partly choked by tears, the light dawned on Alex at last.
“Don’t worry, son,” Andy parodied the commander, “you haven’t really lost a father, you’ve gained a national hero! Well, you’re right…”
“It’s not me he’s angry at,” Alex said aloud, more to himself than to Uriel, “it’s Ray! He blames Ray and…”
Andy turned back in fury on his mother. “…except I lost my father a long time ago, didn’t I, Mom? Didn’t I!!”
“…and his mother for what happened to me,” Alex finished.
“Partly,” Uriel conceded.
Andy stormed out, disappearing as he left the rear of the Mission Control room. Alex watched him go, saddened by the boy’s pain. Gena followed her son out a moment later, escorted by a uniformed soldier.
Alex turned to Uriel, outraged. “She’s been fucking Petersen, hasn’t she! That old asshole, no wonder he picked me for this mission!”
“That’s only partly true,” Uriel corrected, coming down to the stage.
But Alex wasn’t hearing him. “Andy must have known about it,” he continued to fume, “poor little guy.”
Uriel sighed, looking past the stage, through the holographic images of Alex’s life props—the scene being played for the audience of One—to the holographic universe that filled the reaches of imagination beyond. He stared at the panoply of stars without thought or emotion, as empty as the space that lay between all those minute particles of mattergy which create the appearance of time within that infinite realm. He was almost, but not quite, bored.
* * *
32. Just Dinner
GENA STOOD UNDER the shower for longer than was environmentally correct, savoring the caress of warm water that drummed against her skin, the lingering fragrance of her bath oils and shampoo.
She felt oddly exhilarated.
“Silly,” she chastised herself, abruptly turning off the water and grabbing a towel. “It’s just dinner.”
She dried herself roughly, then relented and used the expensive perfumed lotion she’d just bought, running her slick hands over feet and thighs, belly and breasts, and on up around her neck. She used the blow dryer to style her hair, then applied makeup carefully, just enough to enhance the exotic tilt of her eyes, the high cheekbones and perfectly shaped mouth.
She dressed her body in a soft blue cashmere sweater that clung against her small breasts like touch; tight jeans that showed off her flat stomach and rounded butt. Gena turned back and forth to admire the effect in the full length mirrored closet doors, then shook her head.
“Just dinner,” she reminded herself again, and hurried into the kitchen to prepare it.
Andy was spending the night at Bobby Austin’s house, three miles away. She’d droppe
d him off an hour earlier, brushing aside his concerns.
“Andy, I’m just repaying Colonel Petersen for taking us out for steaks last month…the night your dad took off from the space station for Europa?”
“So, why not just send him a thank-you card?”
“Because this is the way it’s done among adults,” she’d chided, pulling up in front of Bobby’s house. “Now, give me a kiss.” She’d put out her cheek, and he’d dutifully pecked it. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon, okay? And wear your helmet skateboarding!”
He’d simply waved in acknowledgement and turned away. Biting her lip, she’d watched him trudge up the walk, skateboard and helmet under one arm, backpack slung over the
opposite shoulder; then she’d returned to the house to shower and change.
At precisely seven-thirty p.m. the doorbell rang.
Gena smiled at the military training behind such promptness and opened the door. Ray looked at once strong and masculine, and tenderly boyish, as he stood there taking her in. He held a bottle of wine in one hand, a bouquet of spring flowers in the other.