Richard frowned on top of his smile. “Hey, you look familiar. Wait, you’re not that chick they’re talking about on YouTube? The sexy healer?”
“This is her,” I said. “She’s a strange girl.”
Richard stabbed a finger toward us. “Perfect! We’ll put her in the video with you. We’ll have her heal someone on camera. The public will love it.”
I frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Richard said.
“Aja, she’s kind of shy,” I said.
Richard studied Aja. “Think about it,” he said.
“I don’t—” I began.
Marc stepped forward, interrupting. “Fred, for us to do a deal fast you need to get representation. I can recommend a dozen agents you can speak to. Just be sure to choose the one you trust the most. And we’ll need you back here within ten days. Ralph has a break then. It’ll be a perfect time to put you two together in the studio. How does that sound?”
I stood, pulling Aja to her feet.
“It sounds wonderful,” I said.
• • •
That night, an hour after turning out the lights in our hotel room, I found myself sitting in a chair by the window looking out at the city lights. Except for a trip to Honolulu with my parents when I was a kid, I’d never been to a major city before. The size of LA staggered me, and the fact that it was after midnight and the streets were still busy with cars and pedestrians. Back home, even on the weekends, it was hard to buy a cup of coffee after eleven.
Of course I gazed at LA with rose-colored glasses. I’d just arrived and already it was offering to make me a star. It seemed too good to be true, which made me worry that it wasn’t true. I knew enough about the business to know that even if Paradise Records recorded “Strange Girl” and brought it out right away there was no guarantee it would hit the charts and change my life. Ninety percent of songs died the week they were released. A contract for one song meant nothing, I told myself.
Aja stirred in bed. “Can’t sleep?” she asked, her voice drowsy.
“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
She pulled herself up on her pillow. “You’re worried your dream is still a dream?”
“You reading my mind?”
“I read it once when I met you. That was enough.”
I had to smile. “Then you know I’m afraid to be happy.”
Aja yawned. “All human beings are afraid to be happy.”
“We are. How come you’re not? What makes you so special?”
Aja sat up all the way. “I’m not human.”
“Are you an alien?”
“I told you yesterday, I’m no one.”
“And that lets you be everyone?”
“Yes.”
“You know, I don’t think it will matter how long we’re together. I’ll never really know you.”
“Is that a bad thing? You love mystery novels. You told me it’s your favorite genre, along with science fiction.”
I stood, wearing only a bathrobe, and walked toward the bed, sitting on the side. I took her hand. “I love a mystery story I can solve. But you and your Big Person—you keep saying you’re beyond words. What kind of story could anyone write about you when all he or she has to work with are words?”
Aja stroked my hand. “You write about love in your songs. And love is every bit as mysterious as the Big Person.”
“Is that true?” I asked.
“Yes. If you were forced to label the Big Person, you could call it absolute love.”
I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “So you’re love incarnate?”
“Yes.”
“You love everyone equally?”
“Yes.”
“And yet you love me more?”
“Yes.”
“Now you’re contradicting yourself.”
“Who cares?” She lifted my hand and kissed my fingers. “Talking about the Big Person always leads to paradoxes. That’s why I took so long to tell you about it.”
I stroked her hair and gazed into her eyes, which reflected the colored lights of the city outside our window. I felt so much love for her right then I feared I would explode.
“Tell me what you are experiencing right now,” I said.
“I wish I could.”
“You say the Big Person is infinite. Are you infinite this second?”
“Yes.”
“Are you bigger than this world?”
“Yes.”
“The solar system?”
“Yes.”
“What’s it like, Aja? Tell me?”
She gestured to the window, to the few faint stars visible above the glow of the city. “The stars are all there, inside me. And the whirlpool of a million galaxies—they float inside the ocean of love that gave birth to them and to me. When I became no one, when I dropped the silly idea that I was limited to a body and a mind, I became that ocean. I see the stars backward and forward in time. I see them being born. I see the worlds circling them. The people living on them. And I see them dying at the end of time, only to be reborn again.”
I was beyond astounded. What she was saying was impossible. That was clear. No human being could experience what she was describing. But what was even more clear was that she was not exaggerating. I felt it as she spoke. Her words had the naked power of truth.
“Tell me about the creatures on other worlds,” I said.
Aja grew thoughtful; her gaze turned inward.
“Some look like us, most look very different. No two worlds are exactly alike. But every world, no matter how alien or strange, is part of a vast mosaic that floats on an ocean of love. Here I’m only talking about the physical worlds. There are dimensions beyond those you can see with your eyes. There are the realms of the gods, the lands of the demons, the vast kingdoms of the angels. All these places are spoken about in ancient scriptures but somehow people have forgotten that they’re true.”
“What are angels like? Have you ever spoken to one?”
Aja grinned. “I’m talking to one now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were an angel before you were born as a human.”
“Really? Were all people?”
She shook her head. “The people on this world come from so many different places. It’s the reason it’s so hard for them to get along with each other. But when it comes to angels—there are only a few on earth.” She took my hand and pressed it to her heart. “You’re one of them.”
“If I’m an angel why am I so horny all the time?”
Aja laughed. “There’s nothing the angels love more than love. That’s what makes you such a hopeless romantic. That’s why you were so quick to chase after me.”
“Because as an angel I recognized you were a goddess?”
I meant it as a joke. But she nodded.
I went to speak, to ask another question, to take advantage of what was clearly a rare opportunity to get her to talk about herself. But I could think of nothing to say. Not only could I not find the words, I couldn’t find the thoughts. It was as if my mind was a candle she had blown out with the staggering admission of what she was.
Aja pulled off my robe and pulled me into bed. We didn’t make love, not again, but she held me inside a living image of what she had described. I saw other worlds. I saw angels and demons. But most of all I sensed all around me the ocean of love she had told me was beyond the worlds. It was inside as well as outside. It just was, forever and ever.
And I knew I was nothing but a child standing on the shore of that ocean, carefully dipping my toes into the water before dashing away each time a foaming wave washed ashore. All the time, though, I realized Aja was the sea; and no matter how much I loved her, and no matter how much I wanted to believe she was mine, she would forever remain the sea. While I would have to wait until the child in me was old enough and wise enough to dive into the ocean and to swim out to where she lived. Beyond the stars, beyond the worlds, beyond tim
e.
It was so wonderful and yet so tragic. Where I stood was limited. Where she existed was unlimited. There were tides in her ocean that ebbed and flowed. An unexpected prompting had brought her to Elder and into my life. The pull of another current could take her away, to places I could only imagine.
Aja may have been able to hold on to me, but I would never be able to hold on to her. As I drifted off to sleep in her arms, I felt sorrow amid my joy. A faint and yet distinct foreboding that our time together would soon come to an end.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BUT ALL THAT was forgotten when we flew home the following day.
There were two reasons.
Early in the morning, the producer Richard Gratter had mentioned, Ralph Varanda, called at the hotel and told me to meet him at his studio in Malibu. Apparently he had an unexpected opening in his schedule.
Again, Paradise Records sent a limo for us. Upon arriving at the studio Ralph handed me a guitar and asked me to play “Strange Girl” alone, without backup. So with a massive microphone in front of my mouth and an unfamiliar guitar in hand, I sang with only acoustic chords to back up my voice.
If my demo was good this was better.
It may have been the superb acoustics of the studio. I’d never sung in a room where my voice sounded so rich. Or perhaps my swelling confidence lent a fresh potency to my voice. Just knowing that the song was going to be recorded and marketed to the public had done wonders for my ego.
Then again, it didn’t hurt that the guitar Ralph had lent me was light-years beyond any brand sold in South Dakota. Plus having both Aja and Ralph cheering me on from the other side of a two-inch-thick sheet of Plexiglas definitely gave me a boost.
Whatever, it all came together and it was magic.
“I’m not sure but that might be the take we use,” Ralph said, before asking me again, and again, to play the song. I sang “Strange Girl” a dozen different times and all of them sounded great. When I was finished Ralph doubted I’d have to fly back out again. “Probably not until we’re ready to cut the album,” he added.
“Richard didn’t say anything about doing an album,” I said.
Ralph smiled. “He will after he hears this.”
Reason two for my excitement while flying home was Janet. She had called from Kennedy Airport and said she’d meet us in Sioux Falls at two in the morning. We only spoke briefly but she asked if I’d been serious if she could stay at my house. I said sure. I knew my parents wouldn’t mind.
“You look happy,” Aja said as I stirred from a nap as our plane began to descend through our ever lovely South Dakota sky. I’d fallen asleep with my arm wrapped around her.
“It’s been a hell of a week.” I yawned and stretched. “Someone should probably shoot me now.”
“You’re still afraid,” Aja said.
“Who wouldn’t be? I just went from dreaming about being a rock star to having a chance to cut an album with the hottest record company in the nation. And my best friend, who I thought I’d lost forever to the Big Apple, is coming home with us. Honestly, Aja, us mere mortals don’t get many days like this.”
“So enjoy it while it lasts.”
“I can’t. Not totally.”
“Because it won’t last?” she said.
“You know me too well. I keep waiting for disaster to strike.”
Aja nodded. “The world you live in is always changing.”
“And your world is always the same?”
“Always the same and forever new.”
“You know what? You may be one with the universe but I swear you’re crazy.”
Aja smiled. “Finally, you’re beginning to understand me.”
Our plane landed an hour before Janet’s and we killed time by picking up sandwiches in the airport cafeteria. We’d slept through our meals on the planes. For being so enlightened, Aja seemed to like meat as much as sex. She picked up a roast beef sandwich while I chose turkey. She drank half my Coke and ate most of my fries.
“And you say you don’t have any cravings,” I taunted. “What about eating? You obviously love it.”
“Maybe I’m eating extra for a different reason.”
“Huh?”
Aja took a bite of her sandwich. “I read a girl gets really hungry when she’s eating for two.”
I almost choked. “Aja, you’re not saying you’re—”
She interrupted. “I might be. Don’t girls get pregnant after they have sex with boys?”
“But . . .”
“Disaster is striking.”
“Aja!”
She laughed. “Relax. I’m teasing.”
I sat back in my chair. “You’re dangerous. I’m dumping you as soon as my record comes out and I’m rich and famous.”
“If that’s your plan you’ll never be rich and famous.”
“Why? Because all my good luck is because of you?”
“You said it not me.”
Our playful banter was suddenly interrupted. Bo, walking none too straight, swept by outside the cafeteria. Although I knew Janet hadn’t called him, I wasn’t surprised to see him. Bo must have spoken to Janet’s mother and gotten her flight plans.
“Damn,” I said.
Aja followed my gaze. “He’s drunk.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“He’s very drunk. What are you going to do?”
I stood. “Wait here. Let me handle this.”
I caught up with Bo in the terminal where the flight from Chicago would arrive. I knew Janet would be on that plane. Bo prowled the black window that looked out on the icy landing strip. It had snowed a couple of inches since we’d been in California.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” I said, sneaking up behind him. He whirled, scowling.
“I’ve come to take my daughter home,” he said.
I took a step closer. “No way. She’s gone through too much shit the last few days, and all because of you. I promise you, Bo, make a scene right now and I’ll bust your face.”
“To hell with you. Stay out of our business.”
“Your business? What kind of business is that? The kind where you creep into your daughter’s bedroom in the middle of the night?”
Bo took a swing at me but Aja was right. He was very drunk. I took a step back and allowed his momentum to spin him around and dump him on the carpeted floor. He bounced back up, though, raising his fists, acting like I’d hit him with a sucker punch.
“Come on, Fred. Show me what you’ve got.”
I should have let it go but I was angry. More angry than I’d ever been in my life. He’d hardly finished his last remark when I stepped forward and rammed my fist deep into his solar plexus. I didn’t go for his head because I knew how hard the human skull was and didn’t want to mess up the bones in my right hand, not weeks before I was supposed to cut my breakthrough album.
The one punch was enough. The blow popped the air out of his lungs and he crumpled in a heap, gasping for air. I would have kicked him in the ribs if others hadn’t been watching. I crouched down beside him and spoke softly.
“Talk to her when she gets off the plane and I’ll break your neck,” I said. “No joke.”
He groaned and coughed up a dark fluid that stank of bourbon. I strolled back to the cafeteria and sat down across from Aja. She hadn’t moved from her place. She couldn’t have seen our fight. But she looked none too happy.
“Feel better?” she asked.
“He swung first.”
“Fred . . . ,” she began.
I pounded the table. “How can you defend him?”
I’d never yelled at Aja before. Yet she didn’t blink.
“I’m not defending him.” She added, “They’re both hurting.”
I sat back in my chair. “He’s a monster.”
“Who are you trying to help here?” Aja said.
When Janet’s plane landed a few minutes later, Bo was nowhere to be seen. I assumed he’d taken my advice to he
art and left the airport. Janet appeared happy to see us. Still, there was an awkwardness. She was not totally at ease. She hugged me, but barely looked in Aja’s direction.
Nevertheless, while we headed for the baggage area, she pumped me for details of how it had gone in LA. I gave her a brief summary. When I got to the part where Ralph put me in his studio with only an acoustic guitar and told me to sing “Strange Girl,” Janet shook her head in amazement.
“You must have been sweating bullets,” she said.
“It was weird but I felt confident. The guitar he had loaned me had an incredible tone. I could have sung ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ in that studio and it would have sounded great.”
“And you had Aja rooting for you,” Janet said, loosening up a bit.
“Nah. She flirted with Ralph the whole time. It was distracting.”
Aja laughed at my jab. In reality, Ralph had flirted with Aja but I couldn’t say I blamed the guy.
As we neared the baggage area, Aja volunteered to get our luggage. Janet and I headed for the Mercedes I’d left in the parking lot three days ago. Aja must have known Janet and I needed to speak alone. For all the talk about Bo abusing Janet, I still had no clear idea what he’d done.
However, I thought it might take her time to open up.
Days if not weeks.
But she filled me in as we stepped out into the icy air.
It had started when Janet was seven or eight; at least as far as she could remember. Again and again, as she spoke about the abuse, she said she couldn’t recall exact details, which was odd because she usually had an extraordinary memory.
In either case, she said when she was in second or third grade, she remembered Bo coming into her room late at night, when her mom was asleep. He’d just sit on the edge of her bed and stroke her hair and talk to her and it was nice. At least she thought it was nice. He did this off and on for a year. But later, when she was in the fourth grade, he started to climb into the bed with her, wearing only his underwear, and she remembered him touching her and asking her to touch him.
“Touching me,” and “Touch him.”
That was as detailed as she got.
“Did you tell your mom?” I asked as we climbed into Aja’s car. I felt in no hurry to start the engine. Aja would wait.