Sati (20 page)

Finally, Sati suggested we take it through the window.

'But we're onthe second floor,'I protested.

'Don't worry,'Sati said.

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I tookthe window off and we gave Sati's plan a try. Ten minutes later, we had the icebox hanging halfway into the great outdoors when I stopped and asked Sati,'N ow what?'

Sati glanced below and came round behind the refrig-erator. Before I could stop her, she gave it a single hard shove.

'Wait!'I yelled. The appliance slid through my unpre-pared fingers and disappeared.' What did you do that for?'

Sati told me to look below. The icebox had landed on a row of bushes without so much as a thud.'I t's probably scratched,'I growled.

'The Goodwill doesn't mind a few scratches,'Sati said.

'The Goodwill?'

'I called them this morning. I gave them Nick's apart-ment number. They'll be out tomorrow.'

'But...'

'You don't need all this stuff,'Sati said.' And you didn'tthink I was going to help you move it all back upstairs, did you?'

I could have blown up. I laughed instead. She was right.

When the room was clear, our job was only half done. The walls were filthy with scuff marks. We kept Jenny busy running for fresh buckets of soapy water while we washed them down. Sati muttered something about a new paint job being better and I offered to go for a couple of cans of paint. But then she didn't want the smell. I was anxious to meet these three characters.

We coveredthe floor with a beautiful carpet taken from Timmy's bedroom and brought in two living-room chairs, which Sati draped with clean sheets. Her serene expression showed signs of excitement.

'When are they coming?'I asked.

'The first one will be here in an hour.'

'They're not coming together?'

'No.'She paused.' We need flowers. You and Jennifer get some while I take a shower and change.'

'OK,'I said.' Anything else?'

'Don't ask them any questions. Keep your voices down when I am alone withthem."

'How do they know you're here?'I asked.

Sati smiled.' Jennifer already told you. They're wise men.'

Jenny and I ended up getting four different bouquets, just to be onthe safe side. I began to wish Sati had
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started a religion. It would have been nice to write offthe cost of allthe flowers on my income tax.

Returning, we found Sati wearing the white dress she'd had on when I picked her up in the desert. To my knowl-edge,this wasthe first time she had worn it since Mary loaned her some of her own clothes.

She wanted Jenny and me looking our best, too. She rummagedthroughthe closet for a dress for my daughter, while I was toldto take a second shower. When I came out, I found my only suit pressed and lying across my bed. It was another hot day, but I put the clothes on without complaint.

The first genthemanarrived at three o'clock.

He was an old Italian priest. He may even have been morethana priest, a cardinal or something. He wore a red sash round his waist, over his black gown, and had withhim a couple of younger priests. The latter were also Italian. They did not actually enterthe apartment. They only accompaniedtheir superior to the door before departing, presumably to wait nearby. The old priest was carrying a handful of flowers.

We were arranged in a line, as Sati had instructed, with me closest tothe door and Jenny on my right side. The priest shook my hand. He had quite a grip for an old fellow.

'Buonasera,'he said.
'
Diobened
ire t
u.'

'Pleased to meetyou, Father,' I said.

'He's not your daddy,'Jenny whispered, confused. Thenthe priest leaned over, with a twinkle in his eyes, and shook her hand. My daughter gave him a sweet grin and tried to mimic his Italian greeting.

'Blame Sara,'she said. The priest was in obvious awe of Sati. With great reverence, he bowed his head low and presented her with his flowers. She accepted them gracefully, smiling to put him at ease.

'Bumben venutoalcasanostra, padre,'she said with an excellent accent. She took him by the arm and led him towards the room with the glorious view of the pool. They disappeared behindthe closed door. Jenny and I retreated to the kitchen and entertained ourselves with games of checkers. Jenny won twice, but then, she cheated.

Why, I kept asking myself, would a cardinal come all the way to America to speak toK athy Lion?

The gentlemanwas in and out in thirty minutes. His assistants showed up as if on cue. They escorted him back down the stairs. He waved goodbye to thethree of us as he roundedthe pool.

'Nice man,'Jenny said.

'Very nice,'Satiagreed.

'How did your meeting go?'I asked.

'Everything I do goes perfectly.'

'All right,'I said.

The next visitor arrived at five o'clock.

He was a tall, powerfully built African man. He came alone, andthe surety withwhich he carried himself,
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the fierce intensity behind his dark eyes, was intimidating. His age was difficult to guess. Forty to sixty was inthe ballpark. He wore white pants beneath akn ee-lengthorange tunic. His long, braided hair did no thing to hide his massive skull. He hardly acknowledged Jenny or me. But he'd brought a garland of flowers, and witha deep bow he placed it round Sati's neck. She seemed in a hurry to get him away from us. Indeed, as she ushered him intothe room, she suggested we go for a walk. She cautioned, however, that we must be back in an hour.

We walked tothe beach. Jenny didn't like leaving Sati alone withthe man. Atthe same time, she was glad to be away from him. He had impressed herthe same way he had me, as a violent man, a man from anoth er time even, when noble warriors weren't much different from savages. I wondered if he was a shaman of some kind.

He was gone when we returned. Sati was rearranging the flowers inthe meeting room so thatthey stood around one chair alone.

'You have an unusual mixture of friends,'I told her.

'You noticed,'she said witha laugh, before lowering her voice and adding seriously.' Just be happy he's on our side.'

'Who was he?'

'You mean,
what
was he.'

'Huh?'

'The world is a lot stranger than you can imagine.'

'Huh?'

'Never mind,'Sati said.' Our next guest will arrive shortly. He is very important tothe world. While he is here, stay inthe apartment. It's a great blessing to be near him.'

'How can he bless us when we've got God making us breakfast?'I asked. Sati did not laugh at my joke.

'Wait till he gets here. You'll see.'

She must have been concernedthatour vibes were not up to par. Beforethe man arrived, she had us sit onthe couch withour eyes closed and zapped us withan abbreviated period of silence. In our hands were flowers taken fromthe bouquets. These we were to offer tothe man, she said.

Obviously,this last guy was to bethe heaviest of all. WithSati sitting between me and Jenny, I settled immedi-ately, happy forthe extra session. After approximately ten minutes of deep rest,I began to notice an approaching presence.

Sati's periods of silence always hadthe effect of making me feelthere was something great insidethatI wasn't usually aware of. This approaching presence had a simi-lar effect, only it was stronger. It grew in intensity so quickly and so concretelythat my rational mind found it impossible to deny that something inexplicable by any set of scientific equations was transpiring. Yet I was not frightened. The presence was as comforting as Sati's warm hug onthe beach. In a way, I felt I was experiencing another form ofthe same hug.

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'He comes,'Satiwhispered.

Jenny and I opened our eyes. Sati was already on her feet, openingthe door. She told us to stay where we were when we started to get up.' We have a minute,'she said.

'Isthis guy a
who
or a
what
?' I asked, and I was not being facetious. The silent buzz inside my head had not been broken bythe opening of my eyes. Jenny looked as if a light had gone on inside her.

Sati hurried back to us, her face flushed.

'He is someone who knows me, who has become me,'she said.' For such people, I become a slave.'

'But if you're God, how could anyone be above you?'

'I amthe goal, but only someone such as he can take you tothe goal.'

'He is one ofthese masters you spoke of at your meetings?'I asked.

'Yes.'

'Is he nice?'Jenny asked.

'You'll love him,'Sati said.

Sati arranged us next to the door, in the same order as before. Had I not been drunk with invisible euphoria, I might have trembled in my shoes. Throughthe door, I glimpsed a small Indian monk in a white hood coming upthe stairs. He was followed by a young blond fellow in a navy blue suit. I recognised the monk immediately. I'll leave it at that.

'Michael,'he said as he accepted my flowers. His voice was high and musical, his dark eyes enchanting. I remem-bered Sati's remark about how to find a good teacher, how they would remind one of her. The man could've been Sati's spiritual father.

'Welcome,'I said, nodding.

Jenny held her flowers up, her palms pressed together.'H i,'she said shyly.

The monk smiled sweedy and took her flowers. He gave her a white rose in return. Then he moved on to Sati.

After watching howthe others had bowed to her, I saw withsome amazementthat she lowered her head to him. Sati gave him a single white carnation. The monk accepted her behaviour as perfectly natural. He said a few words in what I assumed was Hindi. Sati replied inthe same language. Butthis time she did not lake her guest bythe arm. She simply nodded inthe direction ofthe meeting room. As he followed her,the monk looked back at me, and I don't think I am exaggerating to say that his eyes seemed to see tothe depths of my being. I felt totally exposed yet, atthe same time, totally safe. What I mean is, I was not ashamed.

'You've done well, Michael,'he said.

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And I felt, with my whole life, I had done just fine. It was a wonderful feeling.

The door closed and Jenny and I sat down. The monk's companion sat across from us.' Do you have any ice cream?'he asked.

'No,'I answered sofdy, remembering Sati's instruction.' But we have cookies that Sati's made. Would you like one?'

'Sure.'

'Jenny, would you getthe pink box atthe bottom ofthe icebox?'She jumped to obey.

'Is Sati the name ofthe young woman?'the guy asked.

'Yes. Didn't you know?'

'No. Who is she?'

'She's God.'

'Come again?'

'She says she's God.'

The guy didn'tknow what to make of that I was pleased to see he was as ordinary asthe rest of us. He took a bite out of one of the cookies Jenny brought him.' She should open a bakery,'he remarked.

'I'm glad you like them.'Satihadn't forbidden me to question the monk's assistant.' Do you know why you

're here?,'I asked.

'No.'

I gestured in the direction of the closed door.'
He
didn't say anything?'

'Nope. One minute we're on our way to South America, and the next, we're heading to L.A.'

I leaned forward.' Does it always feel so heavy around him?'

He nodded.' Always.'

Sati's cookies were usually capable of satisfying anybody's sweet tooth, but this guy wanted ice cream and I guess that was that. I told him about a joint down the block that made their own. He was out the door in a minute, with a promise to bring us back a pint of chocolate chip.

I didn't know if the vibes were wearing me out or what, but I began to feel drowsy. My daughter felt the same way.

'Could I lie down,Daddy?'she asked, yawning.

'I don't think Sati or her guest would mind.'

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She stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes. I did not plan to join her. I simply reached a point where I knew I'd faint if I didn't put my head down. I think I was out before my head touched the sofa pillow.

The dream seemed to start immediately.

The town was small and cosy. Everyone knew one another. There was one barbershop and one bakery.

The local sheriff spent his days helping the local fireman rescue pets stuck in trees. The sun shone most of the time. This was my home town.

I was twelve years old. Summer vacation had just begun. My friends and I were playing baseball. We played baseball all day and we never got tired of it.

Nick and Timmy were my best friends. We were usually on the same team, but we didn't always win.

The other team had a fantastic pitcher. That was David. He could whiz a pitch by your bat and you'd feel the breeze before you'd see the ball. More than anything,we loved to get a hit off David. When we did, he would get furious.

A game was going on right now. It was half over and we were losing by a run. Nick was up at bat. Even though he was only a kid, he was big and strong. There were two outs. David threw him a couple off astballs, and got him for two strikes. Then Nick connected on the third pitch and drove the ball hard up the left-field line. Timmy and I cheered. Nick went to second base.

It was my turn to bat. I knew I could either win the game or lose it. As I stepped up to hit, my mother catted encouragement from the stands. Every day, without exception, she came to watch me play.

There wasn'tapitch David couldn't throw: curves, sliders, fastballs - he knew them all. I knew the only way to beat him was to be patient. Usually, on his first pitch, he gave you garbage.

Unfortunately, this time he put it right over the plate. I watched it go by. It was the second pitch that was no good, and I went for that one. Before I knew it, I had two strikes on me. The pressure was intense.