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"Yes," Viviana said. "Yes, yes, yes. Thank you. Yes." Sorin sighed loudly, and Marilena decided she would slap him if he drew one more iota of attention to himself. She was fully aware how strange this all was, and she would have been astounded had her intellectual husband responded in any other way. But he had not had the woman recite his very thoughts word for word.
Ray's parents took him out for fast food, and they began eating as soon as they sat down.
"How come we don't pray in public like we do at home?"
"That would be showy, dear," his mother said. "The Bible says we're supposed to pray in secret, not be seen by men."
"The Bible says lots of other stuff we don't agree |, with," Ray said.
"Like what?" his father said.
"That we're all sinners, born that way."
Mr. Steele stopped in midchew. "More browbeating |, from Bob by and his family?"
"Browbeating?"
"Preaching, proselytizing--call it what you want."
Ray shrugged. "Bobby said that was in the Bible, that's all."
"Bible also says God told the children of Israel to kill every man, woman, and child of nations that didn't believe in Him."
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"Honey!" Ray's mother said.
"Well, it does," her husband said. "If we're going to get into everything the Bible says and start taking it literally, it's going to do the boy more harm than good."
"I know," she said, "but can we keep our voices down?"
"I thought we believed the Bible," Ray said.
"To a degree," his dad said. "It says God is love. You believe that?"
"Well, sure, yeah. Why not?"
"Killing every living soul that disagrees with Him sound like love to you?"
Ray wished he hadn't gotten into this. "It really says that?"
His dad nodded, mouth full. "And when the children of Israel disobeyed, God slaughtered a bunch of them. Now you tell me. If that's true, if that's literal, what does that say about God? If He was the definition of love, wouldn't He be fair and compassionate? The Bible says something about Him being slow to anger and willing that none should perish. I don't know how long it took Him to get angry with the so-called pagan nations, but if you take the Old Testament literally, He sure was willing for them to perish."
Ray studied his father. "So you don't believe the Bible?"
"'Course I do. I'm just saying it can't always mean what it says. God can't be loving and merciful yet vengeful enough to wipe out people who don't follow Him.
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People get confused when they take everything literally; that's all I'm saying. Like your friend. He probably ; thinks Jesus is the only way to God." "Probably. Don't we? Why do we go to a Christian church?"
^ "Because that's what we know. That's how we were raised. But the minute we start thinking our way is the only way, well, if you ask me, that's not godly. I believe God helps those who help themselves. And I also believe that every religion is basically worshiping the same God. It's like God is at the top of a mountain. Any religion, P»any good one, I mean--the kind that makes you want to be a better person, help your fellow man, that kind of stuff--will get you there. We all take different paths, but we all eventually get to the same place." "To God." "Exactly."
That sounded reasonable to Ray. He didn't plan to argue it with Bobby. They could still be friends and just
ignore their differences.
"So what about God killing off the pagan people?"
Mr. Steele shook his head and stuffed his burger wrapper into the bag. "It just has to mean something else," he said. "It's symbolic. Figurative. Know what that means?"
"I think so. So the stories about the battles and the killing and the getting slaughtered if you don't obey, all that stands for something else."
"Right."
"Like what?"
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"Hm?"
"What does it stand for? If you don't do what God tells you, you get squashed?"
"No, that wouldn't be a loving God either, would it?"
"No. So what does it mean?"
"I don't know. I just know it can't mean what it says."
"Some things," Ray's mother said, "are not for us to know this side of heaven. You can ask God when you get there."
"And we're sure we're getting there?"
"Of course," his dad said.
"How?"
"By doing the best we can, treating people right, following the Golden Rule, making sure our good outweighs our bad."
Ray got a new view of his father that day. He could be an embarrassing old guy, but he sure was smart.
57
FOUR
tall and thin, the man with the razor-cut hair and Wearing a gray woolen suit gazed out the floor-to-ceiling ^windows of his top-floor office. He loved the way Manhattan sparkled in the early evening as streetlights flickered on all over town.
Both morning and afternoon papers and news reports had been filled with war and near-war tension all over , the globe. Three hurricanes sat single file off the coast of Florida, weathermen predicting the most devastating
natural disasters that state had ever seen. Tornado alley Was gearing up for what promised to be the worst season ?in history. Volcanoes erupted on every continent and several more hinted at following suit.
The man turned slowly and leaned over his desk, resting on his palms. Careful with his fresh manicure and understated yet exquisite and ridiculously expensive
jewelry, he pressed the intercom button.
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"Yes, Mr. S.?"
"Fredericka, I need you to hand deliver a message for me."
"Certainly, sir. Where to?"
"Paris. This evening."
"I'm sorry, sir. I have family coming in and--"
"It must go tonight for delivery in the morning. That won't be a problem, will it?"
There was a pause, then a sigh. "Is it ready?"
"Five minutes."
The man sat and wrote on linen paper with an ancient fountain pen.
Auguste, let's call In the commission for a meeting In Le Havre for Monday week. And please inform R. Planchette that the time for Project People's Victory Is nearly at hand, Best, J.S.
Viviana Ivinisova had sat in silence for nearly a full minute, her head bowed before the flickering candle, elbows on the table, hands raised.
"Someone feels a deep, personal need," she said finally. "A longing. Have faith. Your wish will be fulfilled. Your dream will come true."
Could it be? Marilena wondered. That could mean anything from someone short of cash to someone in a bad relationship. Or Viviana could have been reading Marilena's own thoughts again.
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It had taken all the fortitude Marilena could muster that first night to keep from telling Sorin that Viviana Ivini|,'sova had been communicating directly to her with a message from beyond the pale. But the farther she and her husband got from the library and the closer they came to their apartment, the less she believed it herself. How could she be so nai've as to have been taken in by a charlatan? She believed in neither heaven nor hell, God nor
Satan, clairvoyance nor fortunetelling.
Marilena was an existentialist, a humanist, a woman
Of letters, a student, a scholar, a professor. She believed in the material world, that which could be seen and felt.
Of course, the evening had had the opposite effect on her problem than she hoped. Rather than distract her from the longing for a child, Viviana had all but promised that her dream would be fulfilled.
Marilena was unaware she was shaking her head until it distracted Sorin from his reading, "What?" he said.
"She was not specific," Marilena said. He laughed aloud. "Of course she wasn't! Did you expect anything else? She was good; I'll grant her that, intertaining. And the drama! The dark, the candle, the plosed eyes, the raised hands, the dramatic pauses. I'm surprised she didn't ask if someone in the room had jjSomeone important in their life whose name begi
ns with an S. I mean, who doesn't?"
But you'll go back with me one more time, like you promised?"
;'What? You're serious? You'd go back?"
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"You promised, Sorin."
"That's not the issue, Marilena. You know I keep my word. But I cannot fathom why you would return. Surely you had to assume what you would encounter. Why would you want to go back?"
She shrugged. "Don't presume to think for me, Sorin. If I'm intrigued, I'm intrigued. I didn't say I was buying into anything."
"You used to be so levelheaded. So bright."
"And now I'm not bright because I want to go one more time? You agreed to go with me twice."
He shut his book and slumped in his seat. "Do you have any idea how I felt?"
"You appeared amused."
"Amused was the least of it. Conspicuous. Humiliated. Horrified that someone I know might see me there. Honestly, Marilena, if it is recreational for you, feel free. But don't make me go."
"Only once more."
"Will it embarrass you if I sit in the back and read?"
"Yes, but I can't expect anything else."
"Does it have to be this particular class? Could we not find some traveling carnival within the next few days that would satisfy my obligation?"
"You said yourself she was good."
"A good entertainer, yes. But if I want to be entertained, I'll watch an action movie."
"You hate those."
"Well, there you are."
"Sorin, you promised, and that's that."
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The following Tuesday Marilena and Sorin had been welcomed even more effusively by those who recognized them from the week before. Sorin would have none of it. He refused to make eye contact, to shake hands, to engage in banter. He strode directly to the back row, Imuttering, "Yes, yes, hello, wonderful to see you again I'too," and didn't even unbutton his coat. He buried his face in his book, this time Exposing Paranormal Charla- tans, and refused to look up.
Marilena was used to being ignored in public settings outside the university. There she was respected by colleagues and students, but it did not escape her that her plain--no, dowdy--appearance seemed to make her invisible elsewhere. She didn't know and had quit caring what people must have assumed about her. She did not ?look wealthy. No one could have known that she and her husband, though they lived modestly, were not in debt because they carefully managed their dual incomes.
Once Marilena had studied her fellow riders on the bus home from the university and realized she looked more like a domestic working woman than a professional. Should she change her look? Why? What did she Care what people thought? To judge someone on appearences was petty. And she had just done it herself. She
believed she knew who the maids and manual laborers
Were. Just because they did not carry briefcases or book
bags like she did, how could she be sure? Nothing else, Save what she read as she sat there, gave any clues to her profession.
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But at that second Tuesday night meeting, Marilena was strangely warmed by the small talk. No one was personal or probing. They didn't seem to care any more than she did to ask about family or work or interests. They merely maintained eye contact, smiled, shook hands warmly, and welcomed her back as if they were truly glad to see her again.
Hadn't that been a part of uneducated society that had repulsed her? Idle chatter. Feigned enthusiasm. Yet these people seemed genuine. And why? Because she needed them to be? Because her marriage had deteriorated, settled into mere intellectual companionship? Or was it possible that one or more of these people could become friends? Might their weekly relationships blossom? The ones who seemed to have been there from the beginning appeared to have bonded. Some greeted each other with actual embraces.
Too much familiarity too soon had long been one of Marilena's pet peeves. Too much touching, too many personal questions, the overuse of first names. Yet now she found herself envious of these people who, though their only connection was likely this weekly meeting, seemed to consider each other family.
It wasn't that Marilena didn't have friends. She did. Not conventionally, not like the ones she read about. There was no one she confided in. But she had colleagues in her department, and because the psychology faculty shared the same building as she and her lit associates, she had come to know many of them on a first-name basis. She and Sorin entertained four to six people at a time in
63
their apartment approximately once a month, always a slightly different mix. Sorin had one or two friends who seemed closer than any she had developed--his vice-chair for one--but as the chair, Sorin had to remain a bit detached too.
Detached. That was a kind way to think of Marilena's relationship with her colleagues. While they seemed to respect and even admire her, none were close. Some
' were close with each other, recounting outings, dinners, and concerts together. She had never been invited and, $he told herself, didn't really care to go. It wasn't true, of course, but the lie was easy to believe because she
1 overwhelmed it with her own private pursuits in the inform of books and disks in which she could lose herself for hours every evening. * Early in their marriage, when she considered Sorin
jtttiore a soul mate than the roommate he had become,
A,
| She had once broached the subject of her "otherness" I as it related to colleagues. "Well," he had said, puffing J; one of his many pipes, "you don't invite them anywhere I either. Try it. They might accept. And they would likely reciprocate."
She never had. But this need for a child--she was finally comfortable admitting to herself that that's what it was--might be softening her edges to where she also longed for conventional friendships. In fact, she wondered, might one or two meaningful connections with adults dull her pain?
Marilena had sat in the back next to her sulking husband. When Viviana Ivinisova began her routine, Sorin
64
never even looked up. And when it came time for the darkness and the candle, Manlena could tell he was dozing.
She herself was more skeptical that second meeting, fighting to detect generalizations and tricks as Ms. Ivinisova told the past, predicted the future, and seemed to read minds. Sitting in the back proved propitious, as Marilena was able to read body language and group dynamics. People were buying this, no doubt. But she steeled herself against being swayed as she had been the week before.
Until Viviana caught her eye.
Was it just Marilena's imagination, or was Viviana returning her gaze every few moments? The woman didn't appear to look at anyone else. Oh, she faked it. People in the second or third row likely thought Viviana was looking directly at someone in the fourth or fifth row or farther back. But Marilena could tell that she was looking between people and at the back wall, sometimes at the ceiling.
That was not unusual for teachers and public speakers. Marilena had been taught that a professor was supposed to maintain eye contact with various students. But she happened to be one who found that disconcerting and distracting, so she faked it.
Viviana appeared largely to be faking it too, except when she greeted newcomers or interacted with someone who admitted that he or she had gotten a message from the great beyond about them personally. And when she looked directly into Marilena's eyes.
She kept trying to tell herself she was imagining it, that
65
being eight rows back she couldn't really know. But she could. Did Viviana detect Marilena's skepticism, or was she trying to reach her because it was obvious her husband was a lost cause? Did the woman see something in Marilena?
"In the remaining moments," Viviana said, "I have two ^messages to convey." First she spoke for more than five minutes on misconceptions about the spirit world, con- /;{eluding, "Many of you are familiar with the Bible and '.what it says about clairvoyance, fortune-telling, and evil spirits. I merely want to remind you that this represents o
nly one view and is, in my opinion, neither valid nor f, representative of the majority of the best thinking on the subject. For our purposes, we must remain open to the % views of most spiritually sensitive people. We believe that I while there are negative spirits, not all should be consid- I ered enemies of God. And--and I beg your indulgence to |, think this through if you happen to be a believer in God and that the Bible is His message to mankind--it does not necessarily hold that opposing God is sin."
Marilena had no idea how many in the room might be people of faith. Romania, she knew from history, had been swept through eons of varying views on the subject | of God. From paganism through Catholicism to Orthodoxy to the atheism attendant with Communist rule, the nation seemed to have settled into a secular humanism that tolerated pockets of quaint and ancient churches of varying stripes. Regardless of where someone stood on belief in God, most had at least a cursory understanding of religious teachings. God was the supreme being--
66
benevolent or judgmental depending on your denominational preference--and His adversary was the devil.
Now Viviana Ivinisova seemed to be asking that everyone, regardless of their religious beliefs or lack thereof, consider an alternative. "I'll get deeper into this in the coming weeks," she said. "But for now, allow yourself to consider that if there is a God, it would be to His advantage to make a sinner out of someone who threatens Him. Especially if that opponent happened to be right. Maybe it is not a sin to presume upon God's exclusive right to preeminence. I know that is a revolutionary concept, so mull it over and keep an open mind for when we get back to it.
"Meanwhile, I have a specific message from a cooperative attending spirit. If it applies to you, accept it for what it is."
Marilena was convinced Viviana glanced directly at her again before sitting at her table and pressing her fingers to her temples.