Indulgence (216 page)

“Maybe you’re right.” A smile spread across my face as the
idea lingered in my head.

“At least I got you to smile,” Melissa said, and we both
broke out in laughter.

“Hey, what time is it?” I asked, changing the subject.

“It’s around eleven thirty, getting kind of late. We should
probably head out soon.”

“Yeah. Let me find my hubby and we’ll follow you out.”

I ran to the Jeep, my jacket serving as a makeshift umbrella
shielding me from the downpour. Matt scrambled behind and we yelled our
goodbyes to Melissa and David.

“Hey, heads up,” Matt shouted and tossed the keys in my
direction. I caught the keys, briefly dropping my jacket. Rain soaked my hair.
I climbed into the driver’s seat, not thrilled about having to drive.

“Really?” I asked, but couldn’t help chuckling. Melissa’s
insight was front of mind for me. It was such a relief to think I could give up
my search and wait for my calling to find me. And the burning in my stomach
must have liked it, too, because the inferno had subsided. All of this good
news zapped my sour mood.

“Yes, really,” Matt responded in a goofy voice. “I had more
adult beverages than you and besides, you quit drinking hours ago. At least
quit drinking alcohol. Boy, you sure sucked down the punch tonight.”

“Yeah, well, my throat is still scratchy. I think I’m
getting that cold you mentioned earlier. Thanks for jinxing me!” I said, and
winked at Matt.

I slowly drove down the long driveway towards the road. The
wipers were on high speed, but barely cleared the rain enough for me to see for
a second.

“Some time with my sister seems to have put you in a better
mood,” Matt observed.

“Yeah, well, I love hanging out with your sister. It’s hard
not to be in a good mood after chatting with her.” I leaned closer to the radio
and flipped to a classic rock station as I pulled onto the road. I didn’t feel
like sharing Melissa’s words of wisdom with Matt tonight. I wanted to enjoy
this newfound mood I was in, and I hoped Matt would see how happy I was and
that we could simply enjoy the rest of the evening without having to discuss my
midlife crisis.

“You know,” I continued, “I really hate driving on these
roads, especially in a torrential downpour.”

“I know Ali-gator, but you’ll be fine. Just keep your eyes
on the road.” Matt pointed straight ahead, a purposeful distraction so he could
flip the radio back to his favorite country station.

“You just won’t compromise on the radio, will you?” I
laughed.

“Nope! When you get old like me, you’ll learn to appreciate
country music.”

“Ha, that’s laughable considering you’ve only got two years
on me. I highly doubt my musical taste will change in the next couple years.”

I neared an intersection and gently pushed on the brake
pedal. I didn’t have to stop, but the cross traffic did. I wanted to slow down
just in case someone else wasn’t paying attention.

“What was that all about?” Matt asked. He knew how I handled
these roads and insisted on teasing me every time I had to drive them.

“That’s me, playing it safe, just in case someone blows
through the stop sign.” I flipped the radio to another rock station.

“Come on Ali, these roads are no more dangerous than the
city roads you grew up on. Hey, you always said you wanted a little more
adventure in your life, why don’t you take the next intersection at the speed
limit?”

“Oh yeah, smarty pants? Game on!”

I approached another intersection and took my foot off the
gas; I couldn’t help my instincts. At least I didn’t brake.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I rolled my eyes and laughed.

The rain refused to subside and the sky was as black as a
witch’s brew. Occasional bursts of lightning lit the road, but I was depending
on my high beams to navigate. As we curved up the hill, we saw a brief flash of
oncoming headlights and I turned down my brights. As I did, I saw Matt, out of
the corner of my eye, reach for the radio. I took my eyes off the road and slapped
his hand.

“Oh no you don’t,” I playfully chided.

“Look out!” Matt yelled.

I jerked my head up in time to see our car veering towards a
ditch. I pulled the steering wheel sharply back to the left, slipping in front
of the oncoming traffic, then pulled the wheel to the right to get us back in
our lane. The passing car laid on its horn.

“Okay, no more music the rest of the way,” Matt demanded,
turning off the radio. “Be careful! Driving into a ditch like that could be the
end of us.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” I whispered. My heart was beating a
million times per minute and my legs felt weak. I felt so foolish about almost
wrecking. I was only trying to be fun and happy. I never intended to hurt us.

“I’m really sorry…” I started as we passed through an intersection.
I took my eyes from the road to look at Matt, and that’s when I saw my worst
fear coming true.

A pickup truck was barreling down the cross road and didn’t
appear to be slowing down or stopping. I couldn’t see the color or make of the
truck. All I saw were two headlights and two shimmering spots on the windshield
at about the height where a driver would be sitting.

“Noooooooooooo,” I yelled.

Everything played out in slow motion. Matt stared at me with
a startled expression, not realizing what was about to happen. I had no time to
brake, not that it would have mattered. I watched the truck approach until it
t-boned Matt’s side of the Jeep. I heard metal crunching and tires screeching
over wet pavement. The Jeep skidded through the intersection. The weight of the
car was too much for the driver’s side tires to handle and we flipped once,
maybe twice. Glass shattered. I heard crashing and hissing and metal scraping
the road and as soon as it happened, it was all over; the motion, the noise, it
all stopped. Blackness settled around me.

Only seconds passed but it felt like eternity. The constant
blare of a horn rang through my ears. I realized my head, resting against the
steering wheel, caused the annoyance. I pushed myself back into my seat and the
horn silenced. I couldn’t see anything, not even my headlights. I moaned,
though I felt no pain, and squinted in an attempt to adjust my eyesight, but
couldn’t see a thing. The silence was deafening.

Panic flooded my body. Matt! Where was Matt?

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I outstretched my
right arm but felt emptiness. Then I heard something; splintered glass moving
over pavement. Maybe the car we had just passed saw us crash and stopped to
help.

The noise grew louder. Yes, someone was approaching the car.

“Help,” I croaked, barely audible to me let alone someone
else. Tears stung my eyes.

Someone tugged at the passenger door, which, from the sound
of it, appeared elevated, somehow higher than where we were stuck. The car must
have landed in the very ditch we had somehow avoided seconds earlier.

Metal peeled on metal as someone pulled the door open.
Someone was trying to rescue Matt, or so I thought.

I raised my head to see what was going on and to scream for
help, but before I could utter a word, the Jeep jerked from its resting spot.
The car trembled as it was violently pulled from the ground. It felt like we
were being dragged up a mountain. I braced myself, not sure what to expect
next. The jerking ceased and all four tires settled on even ground as the car
came to rest. My perception was blurred and my voice still failed me. Hazy
visions flicked across my mind. An intense heat swept over my nose and mouth.
It felt like a hand but was much too hot to be human. I slipped into
unconsciousness.

I’m back in paradise walking along the river’s edge, seeking
passage to the other side. A small bridge crafted of sun-bleached wood
seemingly pops out of nowhere. I quickly cross it and immediately look to the
horizon. The prism is still there, wildly reflecting rays of color, and it
seems to beckon me forward. I can’t comprehend what sort of disruptive display
could be radiating from this serene garden. The only way to solve this mystery
is to pursue it myself.

I walk for what feels like an eternity navigating up hills
and through thick brush. All the while, my eyes are fixed on the finish line. I
haven’t anticipated or seen these obstacles, and I begin to hope that this
marvel isn’t a mirage or a figment of my imagination. This mystery better be worth
it.

I approach what I hope will be the last hill. As soon as I
reach the summit, I’m blinded by light. Intense rays of red, yellow, orange and
violet cut through the air. I hold one arm in front of my eyes as a shield, the
other arm outstretched in an effort to guide me through the jungle I’m about to
reenter.

I stagger, run into trees and trip on stones as the rainbow
dances all around me. The light whizzes around at an incredible speed, and it’s
making me nauseous. As if the flickering light isn’t bad enough, the air is
also filled with a shrill clatter. It’s a mystical sound, one that couldn’t
possibly subsist in any earthly existence. It sounds like a thousand pixie
fairies singing in piercingly high-pitched voices. The clatter shimmers through
the air, wreaking havoc on my ears. The light and sound are definitely
misplaced in this perfect paradise. Or maybe they are precisely placed. Maybe
they are here to keep intruders away, to protect whatever it is trying to hide.
But I can’t turn around now. I’ve traveled too far to turn back, but I’m unsure
if I can endure these conditions much longer.

Just when I think I can’t take much more, I break through
into an opening. The insanity of the light and sound stops and is replaced by a
beautiful vision. Before me stands a tree, but not just any tree.

The trunk is narrow and covered in a smooth, gray bark. The
branches start low, maybe shoulder height, and extend toward the sky in a
perfect bell shape. The leaves are translucent green, and every vein of every
leaf is visible. The branches are decorated with apples, oranges, bananas and
pears, and it is now apparent what is throwing off the light.

Each piece of fruit is a dazzling display of tiny crystals.
There are no other trees in the clearing shading it from the sun, so it is
completely bathed in sunlight. A gentle breeze causes the fruit to dance,
sending shards of color all around the atmosphere. I stand there, absorbing the
beauty of the tree and the light bouncing off of my surroundings. The breeze
picks up and the fruits’ aromas waft toward me, filling my nostrils with a
beautiful, intoxicating scent that creates an urge deep in my core. I need to
see this tree up close, to touch it, to verify the fruit is real. But most of
all, I need to taste the bounty of this tree.

I walk toward the tree, my eyes never straying from the
bejeweled fruits. As I get closer, a snapping noise breaks my concentration. I
freeze and dart my eyes to the right, searching for the source of the
disturbance. The snapping grows closer and louder, and my annoyance
intensifies. I can’t imagine who or what is about to ruin my moment.
Possessiveness washes over me. I don’t want to share this treasure with anyone.

A man slowly emerges from the jungle, one arm held over his
eyes to shield them from the tree’s intense radiance. He wears a long tunic,
cinched at his waist with a rope. The cream fabric is ripped in several spots
and the hem is tattered. His hair is long and brown and, like his outfit, looks
like it could use a good washing. As I watch, the newcomer drops his arm and
surveys the area. He looks in my direction and appears to look right through
me. Then, the stranger’s eyes settle on the tree. He stares at the fruit,
observing its beauty as it sways in the breeze. He appears content to just
stand there and stare.

The breeze shifts almost purposefully, redirecting the sweet
scent away from me and toward the stranger. The thick aroma swirls through the
air at a leisurely pace until it reaches him, and he inhales deeply, drawing in
a breath of perfume. His eyes close and he rolls his head across his shoulders.
After a few moments, he opens his eyes and his expression changes. His eyes
narrow, focusing on the fruit before him. He rolls up on his toes, as if to
take a step, and then pauses in hesitation.

Anger overcomes me. How dare this stranger, who found this
place after me, ignore me and think he can approach the tree and eat its fruit.
I know this is his intention; it is the same reaction I had when I first saw
the tree and smelled its perfume. I have to stop him. I should be the first to
taste the fruit of this magnificent tree!

“Hey,” I yell. But the stranger doesn’t seem to hear me. He
continues his trancelike approach to the tree.

“Hey, you,” I shout again. I try to step forward, but can’t
move. My feet are cemented to the earth as if I’m a planted tree. I try
determinedly to move them, but they aren’t going anywhere. I try to shout
again, but nothing comes out of my throat.

The stranger is in front of the tree, both hands at his sides.
His head is cocked as he stares intently at a piece of red fruit dangling in
front of him. Movement around the trunk of the tree catches my attention. It is
a massive black serpent. The creature appears well fed given its girth and is
several feet long. I can make out each individual scale on its body, and its
underbelly is the same color as its back – pure black. The only other color on
the animal is a strange marking on its head. It appears to be a crest of some
sort, in a deep red hue, the shape of a diamond but with curved lines.

The creature quietly slithers up the trunk and disappears
under the thick covering of leaves. The selfishness I felt a moment earlier is
now gone, replaced with concern for what is about to happen to the man. I want
to warn the stranger of the impending danger, but my voice fails again. The
serpent’s head reemerges inches from the man’s face. The stranger straightens
and stares at the snake. The two appear to be in deep conversation but I can’t
hear a word. Several minutes pass. It appears the beast is trying to convince
the man to eat as it nudges the glittering fruit with its head. The man finally
plucks an apple from the branch and holds it to his eye. I am not envious, but
rather awash with curiosity. I wonder how he would react to the fruit and if it
would it be soft and juicy, the crystalline flesh only a decoy. The stranger
slowly raises the fruit to his lips, pauses to say something else to the
creature, and takes a bite. Juice rolls down the side of the apple and the man
licks his lips as he swallows. I watch in amazement. So the most beautiful
fruit
is
edible.