What You Wish For (18 page)

‘We’ve grown so much since the beginning,’ Zara said. ‘Since Lisa and Jay and I first met, which was, like, seven years ago now, we’ve spread the news all over the world. Jay’s at the Embassy on the East Coast now, with about fifty pilgrims, down in Florida. That’s the biggest at the moment, though the one in San Diego’s pretty big too. That’s where Lisa’s based. She was the first to come into contact with the visitors, back when we were in high school.’

‘Did you grow up around here?’

‘Uh-huh. Lisa’s amazing. One of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. I guess you could say she’s a kind of guru to me. To all of us.’

‘Is she your leader?’ I asked. I imagined a bunch of E.T.s landing and saying, ‘Take us to your leader.’ I tried to suppress a giggle.

‘We don’t have a leader, but she guides us. I can’t wait for you guys to meet her. She’s, well, she’s just a unique and beautiful
person
.’

‘I’m worried,’ I said. ‘What if she doesn’t like me? What if she thinks I’m not worthy?’

Zara laughed and touched my arm. ‘Hey, don’t worry. If I say you’re OK, Lisa will like you too. And Richard, we’re
all
worthy. It’s just a matter of pushing yourself forward, of being brave enough to make that leap. We’re going to be undertaking a great journey. We’re the Earth’s ambassadors, setting out to discover a new world. We’re like the Pilgrims, setting sail on the Mayflower.’

I played with a stray piece of rice that had stuck to the table. ‘And you say there are other English people at the house on the coast?’

‘Yes. I wish I could remember their names.’

‘Male or female?’ I asked, trying to hide my eagerness to know. I was sure Rick was looking at me suspiciously. Did he suspect that I wasn’t genuine?

Zara rocked her head from side to side, as if the motion might free her thoughts.

‘Female, I think. Maybe one guy, one girl.’

It had to be Marie. It had to be. I wanted to go to the coast now. I could feel all the seconds and minutes and hours we’d been apart weighing down on me, and suddenly they were too heavy to hold. I wanted to end the separation now. I suppose that’s how Zara and her fellow Loved Ones felt about the aliens. They felt lovesick. They wanted to be reunited with the object of their affection, the beings that made them glow, that brought happiness and pleasure to their lives. They wanted to be held and caressed and soothed, shown new things, feel that rush of love and life that only that connection can bring. I found myself empathising with them. For the first time, I think I understood how they felt.

I looked around me, at the expensive house, filled with tasteful furniture, the sports car parked in the drive. ‘What do you do for a living?’ I asked.

‘I’m a psychic therapist,’ Zara said. ‘People pay me to look into their minds, to ease their pain.’

‘And it pays well?’

‘I make a good living, yes.’

‘What about the people who join you? Do I need to pay you?’

She squeezed my hand. ‘It’s your choice, Richard. Many of the pilgrims who join us make donations. Some of them are very generous, signing over their property. But none of us will need money after we make contact with the Chorus.’

‘But should . . .?’

‘Let’s stop. It’s not cool to talk about money.’

I sat back. ‘Sorry.’

‘Hey, don’t worry.’ Her smile returned, warm and flirtatious. ‘I’ll forgive you. If—’

Rick suddenly announced, ‘I’m going to bed.’ He hurried through the kitchen into his bedroom like something had frightened him.

Zara shifted her chair closer to mine and put her hand on my knee. She leaned into me. Her breath smelled of chili and beer. ‘I can read your thoughts,’ she said.

I was quite drunk and, even though I fought it, she was turning me on. I was enjoying the flirtation.

I said, ‘And what am I thinking?’

Her eyes were piercing. Her hand crept up my thigh. ‘You’re thinking I remind you of someone. Someone you love. Someone you’ve lost.’

I stood up sharply, banging my head on the low-hanging light fixture. I swore and rubbed my crown. It was the way she said it –
someone you’ve lost
. What was I doing, allowing this woman to come on to me?

Zara was looking at me with concern. ‘Have I said something? Richard, I can sense your pain. Like a small animal . . .’

‘I’m going to bed,’ I said.

Before I could move, Zara took me by the shoulders and pulled my face towards hers, her cheek lightly against mine. It felt very soft. She whispered, ‘I can be the balm that soothes you, sweet Richard.’

‘I need to go to bed. To sleep,’ I added quickly.

She held my face in her hands. It felt like her fingers were drawing tears from my eyes; the tears slid warmly down my cheeks. There was such tenderness in her eyes, and she looked so much like Marie, the temptation to give in, to let her take me to bed, was almost overwhelming. But I couldn’t do it. I was so close to finding Marie now. How could I be unfaithful to her?

‘Sleep,’ I said again, and Zara paused, then nodded. She led me to a bedroom and I lay down on a soft mattress on the floor. She kissed the tears on my cheek and left the room, leaving me to sleep, to spend my second night under an American sky.

18

Briefly, a gap opened in the clouds, allowing sunlight to squeeze through; then the clouds closed again, and down came the rain.

Zara turned the key in the ignition and waved goodbye to her little house. This might be the last time she saw it, she said, if everything went according to plan. Consequently, a melancholy note resounded in the air, floating between the fine raindrops, a note of farewell. Zara had spent her life in this city, and although she had spent most of that life longing to be somewhere else – namely outer space – it was still hard for her to say goodbye.

Whereas I was impatient to get moving.

‘Goodbye, house,’ Zara whispered as she reversed the red MX-5 out of the drive. In the tiny back seat, Rick had folded his lanky body into an uncomfortable zigzag and closed his eyes. He had been up all night meditating, he said.
More like masturbating
, I almost said, but held my tongue. I had seen the way he looked at Zara.
He
definitely wouldn’t have turned her down.

‘How long will it take to reach the Embassy?’ I asked.

‘About three hours,’ she said in a sad tone.

She gave me a moist-eyed smile, and then off we went.

In a way, Zara’s personal sadness was a relief. Since I had shed tears on my first night in the house, all I had got from her were little sympathetic smiles, which were starting to irritate me. I kept asking when we were going to set out, and she would shrug vaguely. Then last night, over another of Rick’s marvellous meals, Zara announced that tomorrow would be the day we headed out to the coast, to the Embassy.

‘Lisa contacted me earlier,’ she said.

‘What, telepathically?’

She looked taken aback. ‘By phone, silly.’

‘Oh.’

I hadn’t seen much of Portland. During my few days at the house I slept a lot. I thought about Marie. One day I went out and walked along the highway and took some pictures with my phone, wishing I’d brought my camera. Crows flapping around outside Starbucks; a rain-soaked Stars and Stripes on a pole outside a diner; a blue jay perched on a mailbox. In parts, Oregon looked just like England. Then you would turn around and it would look completely alien. Maybe Marie and I could spend some time exploring after I found her. A holiday in which to rediscover each other. We certainly needed some time together. Time to heal.

‘Is there no way you can find out the names of the people at the Embassy?’ I had asked Zara.

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘It’s just . . . a friend of mine told me she might come out here. I’m hoping she’s there.’

‘A girlfriend?’ I could tell from her face that she now believed she knew why I hadn’t jumped into her bed.

‘A friend,’ I said. ‘Someone else who loves the visitors.’

‘And they love us,’ Zara said, reaching out and stroking my cheek.

Now, the open road led to the sea. Windscreen wipers swept back and forth through the somnolent rhythm of the rain. I watched the passing country: Taco Bell, McDonalds, Plaid Pantry, Costco. Zara and Rick were silent. Soft rock played on the radio. My mouth felt dry and I kept looking at my watch. In just under three hours I would see Marie. I had so many questions, but I made a silent vow not to start grilling her immediately. By this point, I was simply desperate to know she was safe. I just wanted to see her. To put my arms around her.

What if she doesn’t want to see you? What if she turns away from you, tells you to go home?
Paranoid voices whispered in my inner ear. I tuned them out.

‘Do you want to stop for lunch?’ Zara asked.

‘I’ve got to go to the restroom,’ Rick said. I went with him while Zara ordered the food. Standing at the urinal, Rick turned to me and said, ‘You’re not a believer.’

‘What?’ I said.

He zipped up and faced me. I felt vulnerable with my penis hanging out so I zipped up too, even though I hadn’t been yet. Rick said, ‘I don’t trust you. I want to know who you are really. A reporter?’

I tried to look shocked and indignant. ‘No I am fucking not! I came here from England because I want to be one of the chosen ones. I want to be . . . reunited with the visitors.’

A trucker came out of the cubicle behind us, chuckling quietly.

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Rick. ‘I’ve seen how your eyes glaze over when Zara talks about them.’

‘No they don’t. And Zara knows I’m genuine.’

He snorted. ‘Zara’s a dumb hippy. Plus she’s got the hots for you and can barely see past your pants.’

‘Hey, listen here . . .’

‘No,
you
listen, asshole.’ He leaned towards me, something stale and rank on his breath. ‘I looked your name up online. You work for a British paper.’

Oh shit.

‘Rick, I can explain . . .’

But he wouldn’t let me finish. ‘This is
my
fucking story. I don’t want any British reporter muscling in, trying to steal it from me. I’ve heard all about your British tabloids.’

Realisation hit me and I laughed with surprise. ‘
You’re
a
journalist
?’

Jesus, I couldn’t get away from them. I decided to lie, to play along with him. I mock-sighed. ‘OK, you’ve sussed me. But I’m not going to steal your story. I’ll just take it back to England and sell it there. It won’t affect you at all. I’m a photographer, anyway. Maybe we can team up.’

‘Humph.’ He folded his arms.

‘Look, if you’re going to give me grief I’ll have to tell Zara you’re a fraud.’

‘And I’ll tell her about you.’

‘And we’ll both lose out. And I think this story’s rather more important to you than it is to me. The ball’s in your court, buddy.’

He exhaled loudly. ‘OK. I’ll tolerate you. But if you get in my way . . .’

‘Chill out, Rick. I won’t. I promise.’

He glared at me. ‘OK.’ As we left the bathroom he added, ‘I can’t believe you turned Zara down. I’d give my left nut for an hour with her.’

I decided it wouldn’t do any harm to attempt a spot of male bonding. ‘Hey, you’ve heard her alien orgasm stories. There’s no way either of us could measure up to that.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ he replied.

We returned to the car where Zara was waiting with our subs. I felt sorry for her. Both Rick and I had completely fooled her. Her psychic powers obviously weren’t working very well this week.

We drove down roads that twisted like the tails of serpents, coiled around rocks in the mist. All around us forests clung to the land; intermittently, patches of blankness stood out where swathes of pines had been felled, and the occasional timber truck passed us on the road, heading to the paper mill.

In the back, Rick closed his eyes. This landscape held no
novelty
for him. He was probably dreaming of journalistic fame, of his big story. Or getting into Zara’s knickers.

Zara kept her eyes on the road. Only occasionally would she glance over at me.

Once she touched my knee. I moved it away.

The road wound on until, without warning, the Pacific Ocean loomed into view. I opened my mouth to gasp but no sound came out. We crossed a suspension bridge across the mouth of a gaping river. I didn’t ask its name. I just stared in awe.

‘Nearly there,’ said Zara, and then we were driving along the coast, and I leaned forward in my seat and felt my heart elevate into my mouth. I thought,
This is it
.

This is it.

We turned off a few miles north of a town called Yachats –
pronounced
‘yah-hearts’. Zara swung the car right and we drove up a sand-strewn road between some high dunes. As we emerged through the dunes I saw the house. It was set high above the beach, surrounded by sharp grasses, and even larger than I had expected. Constructed from timber, it was painted white, like Zara’s house but on a much larger scale. At the front of the house was what I can only describe as a spire, near the peak of which was a large, round window. Above the window somebody had painted a gold heart.

Zara switched off the engine.

‘Welcome to the Embassy,’ she said.

The ocean was just fifty yards from the house. The sand was pale and damp; pebbles and sand dollars were scattered around. Along the coast were other houses and chalets, but the beach was deserted. It felt like the edge of the Earth. I tried to imagine how the first Europeans to stand here must have felt, after their long trek across the continent. They must have thought they had finally mapped the whole world. And now, hundreds of years later, their descendants stood here, unhappy with the world that was, looking and hoping for other planets. New territories to map; territories beyond the stars.

I broke into a run.

‘Hey, wait, Richard . . .’ Zara called, but I didn’t listen. I ran to the door of the Embassy and pushed past the man who stood there. He tried to grab my arm but I shook him off. I ran into a large room with white walls. Half a dozen pairs of eyes looked at me. I scanned the faces. No Marie. I ran out of the room and down a hall. I pushed open doors: a cupboard, a kitchen, bedrooms, an office. No Marie.

Panting, I flew up a flight of stairs. More doors. Shocked faces stared out at me. A man came out and said, ‘Can I help you?’ and I froze.

‘Marie,’ I gasped, ‘where is she?’

‘What?’ He looked at me with suspicion and confusion.

‘Marie. Where’s Marie?’

‘There’s no Marie here, man. Is she a friend?’

‘Or Candy. Maybe that’s what she’s calling herself.’

He gave me a curious look. ‘There ain’t no candy here,’ he said, and laughed.

I stopped listening and ran back down the stairs, straight into Zara, Rick and a bunch of others. Zara said, ‘Richard, what’s the matter? What are you doing?’ Rick was glaring at me with horror.

‘I . . . I . . .’

That was all I could say before I collapsed.

I woke up in a strange bed and jerked upright.

‘Hey, cool it!’ A young man with a wispy beard stood over me. He laid his hand on my arm and restrained me from jumping out of the bed. ‘Calm down, man. Take deep breaths.’

I obeyed. It slowed my pulse a little. ‘Is it true?’ I asked. ‘Is Marie not here?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ the man said. ‘There’s nobody at the Embassy called Marie. Or Candy.’

‘But . . .’

Zara came into the room. Her eyes burned into me. ‘Richard, please tell me you’re OK. They’re having a discussion downstairs, asking questions about what kind of person I’ve brought with me.’

The walls of the room were pure white, like the interior of a hospital ward. The man with the wispy beard was dressed all in white too – loose white shirt over white jeans – and Zara too had changed into a long white dress. Both she and the man (whose name, it turned out, was Carl) had gold heart shapes sewn above their real hearts.

‘Richard, talk to me!’ Zara raised her voice for the first time since I’d met her.

I gathered my thoughts as quickly as I could. I didn’t want to be chucked out of here. Even if Marie wasn’t here – and the disappointment almost choked me – there might still be people who could help me. Pete, for example. Marie might be in one of the other embassies. Or she might be on her way. Somebody here had to know something.