Her eyes clouded over.
‘So you didn’t marry him.’
‘I wanted to, but he was already married. I never told him exactly how I felt, because I just assumed it was an impossible situation. But it was electric. Not just lust, but love. True love.’ She closed her eyes.
‘How do you know?’ I asked.
‘You know when you know, Jonathan. I know because I never felt that way again in my life about anyone else. I had relationships, but I never felt that way.’
‘So you don’t know where he is today? Maybe he’d want to know you’re dying, and that you loved him.’
‘I came to the conclusion years ago, that sometimes you meet someone who changes your life, but that doesn’t mean that your life has to change.’
I pondered that thought for a moment.
‘But what if he wanted to say goodbye one last time?’
‘To what end?’ she asked.
‘Because you could tell him how you really feel. How you’ve felt all these years. What if he feels the same?’
‘’What if?’ she said, looking into closed hands. She seemed to be studying them, as if the crevices would provide answers. ‘If I told him, and he loved me back, what then? He’d be engulfed in grief. If he had loved me, at least all these years he’s had the hope that I’d return. Hope is everything, Jonathan. You know that.’
‘You don’t make much sense to me. You’re not what you seem,’ I said.
‘Are any of us?’
I stood, walked to my backpack and reached inside. I pulled out the last protein bar and tore into it, famished.
‘Are you angry?’ I asked. ‘I mean, angry that your years will be cut short?’
‘Oh no,’ she said quickly. ‘Let’s face it I’d only have 20 more, anyway. I’m 70 now. See, life is worth living, Jonathan. We’re not guaranteed anything, you know, yet we come into this world feeling entitled as if we are. We arrive acting as if we’ve been handed a manual for life with a certificate for 100 years.’
‘But there are reasonable expectations…’ I answered.
‘Like what?’
‘It’s reasonable to think you’ll live to the average lifespan. Don’t we all expect we’ll do better than that?’
‘We do.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Because we’re selfish. Human beings are self-absorbed. We think we’re in complete control of the beginning, the end and everything in between. But we’re not.’ She looked at me intensely. ‘Of course, you know that.’
I thought of Boo and what Lacy and I had done with her the day before the accident. It was July, a month I would now detest for eternity. We’d been standing in the park, feeding the ducks one day, and the next, they were gone. One day you’re at the apex of your life, standing in all your glory before the sunrise, full of hope and possibility. The next you’re at the sunset, darkness encroaching. Night falls fast.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It does.’
I looked at her, knowing with complete certainty that I had not said a word. I’d not said anything, yet she had heard me.
‘There’s a helicopter coming to pick me up in an hour,’ she said finally. ‘My son rented one to allow me to fulfil this dream. He’ll be taking me on home if you’d like to hitch a ride.’
‘A helicopter?’
‘Might as well travel in style if it’s one of your last trips!’
‘I guess you’re right. Where are we headed?’
‘New York. I live upstate, so we’ll land in a small airport in the Adirondack Mountains and you can continue your journey from there, or you’re welcome to come stay with us.’
I thought about her offer. I had never been to the Adirondacks before, and had always wanted to see the region. But I had been gone less than a week, and I wasn’t ready to spend time around people I hardly knew. ‘I’ll go,’ I said. ‘But I want to go hike up into the mountains.’
Marilyn smiled. ‘Whatever suits you!’
An hour later the chopper landed about 500 feet away. It was shiny and black, with stripes across the side and a compact cabin that appeared to seat no more than four. The blades cut through the desert sky, kicking up dust until they sputtered to a stop. She tossed her backpack on her shoulder and headed towards it and I followed.
Marilyn ducked into the chopper and sat in the back as if she’d done it before. The pilot motioned me into the seat beside him, and handed me a headset to protect my ears. Marilyn buckled up and placed a wrinkled hand on her son’s shoulder and squeezed hard. He placed a gloved hand on hers and squeezed back.
‘I’m Conrad,’ he said, smiling. ‘Ready to go?’
The blades roared, much louder than I’d expected. As we lifted I felt a moment of adrenaline rush through me, my body suspended. I felt alive, like I was being prodded out of a coma into life. We soared over canyons and majestic white mountains. We dived deep through the centre of long stretches of brown desert and watched a herd of animals below. We were headed east, though I didn’t care where we were headed because I had no expectations for the journey. An hour in, Conrad explained that we’d be landing at a remote airport to switch to a small Cessna he owned for the remainder of the journey. Once we arrived, I would leave them and go my own way.
Floating over the clouds I realized that at times I could still feel her, and I wondered if there was any difference in the scope of eternity between what was and what is, or what will be. Boo had only been on this earth for four short years but her soul was ancient, as if I’d known her for not one lifetime, but many. Lacy and I had been connected from the start, not like the other women I’d met and conquered but different, as if our souls were intertwined. A cord of three strands is not easily broken.
As the helicopter floated across the horizon I remembered what the shrink back in Orange County had said. Some people come into your life out of circumstance, while others arrive because they had to. They are there for your soul. They were sent to you. They were sent to deliver a message. To bring, or take away.
I glanced over at Conrad effortlessly navigating the chopper through the clouds. He was the kind of man I’d wanted to be, the kind every man wanted to be, a James Bond type that both men and women were drawn to. He instantly reminded me of an old friend of mine from university. His name was Jason and he had the same square jaw and rugged exterior. He had entered one relationship and then the next, with whatever woman he’d met at the time. The last time I saw him he’d been through his second divorce, onto another. Because of his good looks, women entered and exited based on geography or convenience, versus selection. I had spoken with him about my theory that convenience was the enemy of happiness. That it led to settling, instead of sustaining. Jason had said that women were like sweets in a vending machine. You find one and then another behind the glass. You put in your money, own one, and then after a while you get tired and it’s inevitable you’ll move on to another.
You
