The Return (20 page)

"And he was screwing my woman! He deserved to die!" Tears sprung into his eyes as he glared at me with the dark hint of murderous guilt. It was then I understood, even before he said what he did next, that he felt he had to kill me to justify what he had done to his friend. To convince himself that he had not made a mistake. It was twisted logic, and unfortunately it was the kind practiced daily in the barrios every time some innocent person died.

"No one deserves to die so young," I said.

"I didn't want him to die! It was you who made him die! It was you and your goddamn slutty ways! Get out on that balcony. I tried to kill you once—

knocking you off my balcony—and by God I'm going to do it this time. Get out there, you bitch!"

He was serious, there was no arguing with him. I stepped out onto the balcony, not taking my eyes off him. He followed me only partway. The wooden balcony was cramped, the sliding glass door that led to it even more narrow. He might be able to wheel his chair out, I thought, but it was obvious he didn't want to.

The night air closed around me like a hand of doom. I couldn't comprehend that my time back on Earth was to be so short. Was my karma so bad? It didn't seem fair. The Rishi hadn't warned me. Yet he had, I thought, in a way.

"What happened that night, Lenny? Did you set the balcony to collapse beneath me? At the critical moment, did your handiwork fail? Did you climb down beneath me to fix it and then—big surprise—me and the balcony fell on you? You know, you always were lousy at fixing things."

"Collate!"

By his reaction I knew I had hit the bull's-eye. "Just tell me if Darlene was in on your little escapade."

"She wasn't."

"Great. That's a relief. Now what? This balcony isn't going to collapse beneath me, and I'm not going to jump off it. I've had enough of that stunt."

Lenny smiled grimly. "But you are going to jump. The pain is going to make you jump."

"What pain?"

Wrong question. Lenny took aim and fired. The bullet burst from the muzzle in a silent flare of orange light. It tore through the right side of my right thigh with an agonizing red rupture. Even when I had hit the concrete with my head after falling three stories, I hadn't felt such overwhelming pain. Crying, I sagged to the side and instinctively covered the wound with my right hand. The blood poured warm and sticky into my palm. It soaked my pants and dripped onto the boards of the balcony. Lenny shifted the gun and aimed it at my left thigh.

Where were Jimmy's neighbors? Watching cable TV? I had to scream, I knew, to get their attention. But I also knew if I did, he would just put a bullet through my heart. Oh, God, I thought. I should never have come back.

"You should jump now," he said. "I will take you apart piece by little piece. A few more bullets and the pain will become intolerable."

"You'll never get away with it," I gasped. "The police will come. They'll catch you. You'll go to jail forever."

My threat amused him. "Your new boyfriend will probably get here before the police. I'll do him like I'm doing you, slowly and painfully. I have plenty of ammunition. I'll save a bullet for myself. When the police get here, there will be no one to arrest." He put pressure on the trigger. "Would you like it in the crotch? You can cover the area with your hand if you like, but the bullet will go right through it and get you where it hurts most."

"Please." I wept, holding out my trembling arm, horrified at the thought of what it would be like to be shot there. "Give me a second. I'll get up on the railing. I'll do what you ask. I'll jump."

He was happy. He was sick. He was like some ancient beast dug up from a black tomb that the gods should have long ago covered with a sacred mountain. His eyes shone the color of blood, and I hardly recognized him.

"That's a good little slut." He cackled. "But do it fast, my finger is itchy. Dive headfirst if you don't want me to shoot at you while you're lying splattered on the concrete."

"I'm hurrying," I moaned, easing myself up onto the wooden railing. All I could think was that I couldn't let him put another bullet in me. From so many violent films and TV shows people have become anaesthetized to what it is like to be shot. It is a tragic thing. My lives were tragic. They kept bringing me to a precipice where there was no hope of escape. I eased my bloody leg over the railing. "Lenny," I pleaded, before I let go.

He was not there, not the guy I knew. But the gun was. It pointed through the railings at my crotch.

"You have two seconds," he said. "One—" I let go, partly. My hands slid down the wooden railings and I was left hanging on to the floor of the balcony. My legs dangled below me; it felt as if a river of blood dripped out of my torn thigh.

The pain was already intolerable, and my plan was really no plan at all. My only hope was that now that I was below his line of vision, he wouldn't be able to shoot me, not without wheeling out onto the balcony, which I prayed was too narrow for his chair.

Unfortunately, my status as a Wanderer did not make it inevitable that God would take my prayers under consideration. Peeking up over the side of the balcony, I saw Lenny approach steadily, past the coffee table and through the sliding glass door. His big round black wheels coasted to the tips of my fingertips. It was there he aimed the gun, not at my head. He must have had some deep-seated perverse wish to see me fall. I swore if I did, I would let out a scream so loud everybody would come running. Before my brother could come running. A scream was the one thing I had failed to let out the last time I had died, and as a result most people thought I committed suicide. Of course, that would not be a problem this time with the bullet hole in my leg.

"One," Lenny repeated.

"Jesus, Lenny."

"Two."

He fired at my right hand. My fingers were sprayed; the bullet splintered the wood between them. Technically, he didn't hit me, but the shock of the striking bullet was enough to make me lose my grip with that hand. Careening wildly to the left side, I fought to bring my right hand back up onto the balcony. It was a loser's strategy. So what if I got it back up. He would just shoot my fingers off, and there would be that much less of me to bury.

Still, I fought. Still, I could not comprehend that this was really happening to me. Not again.

Lenny's wild face loomed above me.

"Master!" I cried.

Lenny's face suddenly softened. "Shari," he said, as if surprised.

Time could have halted. I stared at him.

"What?" I said.

He reached down to save me. I reached up. But he was too late. I lost my grip. I fell. I saw the edge of the apartment roof, the stars. There were only a few of the latter, and they weren't very bright. Not compared to the lamppost that stood near the entrance of the apartment complex, which suddenly began to rush toward me at an incredible speed.

I had been this route before. I knew how the stars would change when my head hit the ground and I rolled over and looked up. There would be millions of them in the sky then. Orange ones and green ones and blue ones. There would especially be red ones, which would multiply rapidly and blot out everything else in the heavens as a colossal wave of smothering hot wax—all the blood in my brain—ran out and covered my face. I would black out. I would die.

CHAPTER XVI

WE SAT IN A TRIANGLE. Peter looked uneasy. I didn't feel so hot myself, not for being in heaven. The Rishi, however, had lost none of his equanimity. The clear stream trickled nearby. The air was still fresh with the fragrance of flowers. The sun shone; in this realm it seemed never to set. I wondered if Peter saw the Master as I did, but I supposed it didn't matter. I only hoped that Peter listened to him.

"What's going on?" Peter asked.

"I'm going back now," I said.

"To where?" Peter asked.

"Earth. A physical body. But I'm not going to be born as a baby. I'm going to enter the body of an eighteen-year-old girl named Jean Rodrigues. I'm going to be what is called a Wanderer."

Peter's face sagged. "You're going to leave? You can't leave. We just got here."

He appealed to the Rishi. "What's the big rush?"

"There are reasons," the Rishi said calmly.

Peter was distraught. "But I don't want her to leave. Shari, don't you have any say in this?"

"I do. It's all up to me. But I have to go. Not just for myself but for other people as well. I have something important to do on Earth."

"But won't you miss me?" he asked pitifully.

My eyes moistened. "Yes."

Peter turned to the Rishi. "Can I go with her? I have to go back if she's going."

The Rishi considered. "It is possible. But I wouldn't advise it. You have much to learn on this side, Peter, before you return. The last time you were in a physical body, you made some mistakes. If you return too quickly, you might repeat the same mistakes."

Peter was taken back. "Are you referring to my suicide?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," the Rishi said.

"But I won't do it again. Especially if I'm with Shari. I'll know how foolish an act it was."

"When we return this way," I said gently. "We don't necessarily remember the spiritual realm. The Rishi, the Master, has explained how easy it is to get caught up in matter again."

"The chance to become a Wanderer is a great gift," the Rishi agreed. "But it is also a huge responsibility. You would be more ready to accept that responsibility if you spent more time between lives."

Peter would not listen. "But I don't want to be here if she's not here. I—I love her. You told me when I arrived that the main thing in creation was love. Don't my feelings count for something in this decision?"

The Rishi smiled faintly. "They do. Divine love transcends all reason. It is the path to God. But is your love divine, Peter? Or do you wish to return simply because you will miss her?"

Peter was stubborn. "My love for Shari is as real as my love for God. I know that. You're so wise—you must know that."

The Rishi gestured innocently. "I know that I don't know. That is how I can feel the will of God." He briefly closed his eyes. "I feel many things right now. If you go back, it will be hard for you."

"I don't care," Peter said. "As long as I'm with Shari. Can you promise me that much at least?"

The Rishi regarded Peter gravely. "Yes. I can promise you that. But you threw away your last life. When you steered your motorcycle in front of the truck, you almost lived. Had you survived, you would have been crippled for life. If you return now, you will return as a cripple."

"No!" I cried. "That's too horrible. There must be another way."

"Those are the choices," the Rishi said. "It is up to Peter to chose."

"Don't do it," I said to Peter. "You know me, I live recklessly. I won't be gone so long. Stay here and learn what you have to learn. You don't want to be in a crippled body. You might not be able to have sex."

Peter smiled sadly. "But I would rather have love than sex. I would rather have you than have legs that work." He reached over and took my hand. "Even back in our bodies, you won't forget me and I won't forget you. It can work, I know it." He added, "If that's what you want, Shari?"

"I don't want you to spend years suffering."

"I won't suffer if you're with me."

I smiled through my tears. "What are you talking about? I'll drive you crazy."

"I enjoy being crazy about you," Peter said. He appealed once more to the Rishi.

"Can I go? I accept that I will have to be crippled. I see the justice in it."

The Rishi nodded. "You may go."

I was still worried. "But is this the best course?"

The Rishi laughed easily. "I must confess this entire conversation has been something of a test for both of you. Everything I said about the reasons you should stay were true, Peter. But I love love more than anything in this creation. Don't worry, Shari. If someone makes a sacrifice in love, then only good can come from it in the long run. Good will come from Peter's decision, for both of you."

"Is there anything we can do on Earth to help us remember this time with you?" Peter asked.

"Shari has asked me this question several times," the Rishi said. "My answer to you is not the same. For you to remember, Peter, you will need a huge shock.

You will have to return to that moment of despair that previously made you take your life. You will have to face it squarely. And this time you will have to decide to live." He paused. "What did you think of just before you died?"

Peter considered. "I thought of Shari."

The Rishi nodded and stood. "Then events will arrange themselves so that the lesson is repeated. I hope you pass the test. But if you don't, you will just have to take it again later." He offered both his hands, one for each of us. "Come children, it's time. Lenny and Jean are in the hospital, unconscious."

EPILOGUE

LENNY AND I had entered the apartment complex, we had, as I said, used the elevator because of his wheelchair. The lift was at the front of the complex. The pool was in the rear. Lenny, therefore probably not until he wheeled himself out onto the balcony to try to shoot off my fingers—did not even know there was a fair-size body of water almost directly beneath the balcony. There was another important element in the scenario. Just before I lost my grip, as I fought to reach for Lenny's hand, I swung up with my right arm. The move was in one sense counterproductive and in another sense beneficial. It had the effect of making me lose my grip, but it also threw me away from the balcony and farther out over the central courtyard, just before I started on my long fall to my death. Yet I didn't die.

To make a long story short, I landed in the deep end of the swimming pool.

Boy, that was one bellyflop that stung. I bobbled to the surface ready to scream. The water was already stained with my blood.

Just then Jimmy and Jo came by. Jimmy took one look at me and appeared ready to faint. But Jo burst out laughing.

"Hey, Jimmy," she said. "You are right. That must be Shari. She's still jumping off balconies." Jo walked to the edge of the pool and offered me a helping hand.