Abruptly, the flutter stopped.
Gunjita was staring at him.
He gathered himself. “A mercy killing.”
“You could call it that,” she said.
“I believe in mercy.”
“We all believe in mercy,” said Dash, not to be left out.
“Then we’re agreed.”
Cav frowned. “But I don’t agree. I’m sorry, but I don’t. We don’t know what mercy is in this case. What it is to them. We’re ignorant. To them it might be the opposite of what we think. How can we put them to sleep? We can’t.”
“We made them,” Gunjita retorted.
The words seemed to reverberate with self-recrimination. Neither man spoke. Moments later, when she realized what had just come out of her mouth, she rushed to explain herself.
“What I meant … We’re responsible. Without knowing what they want, we have to guess. Put ourselves in their shoes. Ask ourselves what we would want.”
Cav felt that she was talking about him. He was filled with love for her, filled with pride to be her husband, filled with admiration. But he could only say what he would want, not what they would, and what he wanted was the freedom to choose.
“We could guess,” he said gently. “I wish I could say we should. But I don’t believe it. We have no right to dictate their fate. When and how they live and die is not our business. Our business is us.
“Which leads me to what I want to say. It might ease the sting. I’m giving up the fight. No more arguing about our Ooi. No more pushing down your throats a pill that obviously doesn’t agree with you. There’s a time for talk and a time for silence.”
“Hallelujah,” she said.
“You’re changing your opinion?”
“Give an inch, they ask for a mile.” Cav shook his head, and smiled. “I’m not objecting to yours. Say whatever you like. I won’t contest or contradict anything you report.”
“What’s the catch?” asked Gunjita.
“No catch.”
She didn’t believe it. “Hear that?” she told Dash. “That ringing in your ears? That hole in the air? That vacuum? That’s the sound of a shoe not dropping.” She locked eyes with her husband. “Stop being such a pussy.”
She was right. In addition to being his soul mate, she was his weather vane. In addition to that, his rock and his pillar. He needed her, now more than ever. He needed every bit of strength he could muster.
“I have a favor to ask.”
Here it comes, she thought.
“I want to be alone.”
Dash nodded. It seemed a reasonable request.
“Alone alone,” he added.
Another nod from Dash. “Sure. Why not?”
“You don’t get it,” said Gunjita. “He wants us out of here. Gone.”
“Is that right, Cav?”
“He’s had enough of us. He’s giving us the boot.”
“That’s not true,” said Cav.
“But it is.”
“Not of you. Of everything.”
“You’re tired,” said Dash. “You’re worn out. You’re old. That’s what juving is for.”
“I’m full, my friend. I couldn’t possibly be any fuller. Not if I lived another life, or another ten. I don’t need more than I have. I don’t want more. More would only push out what I already possess, and cherish.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Dash. “You don’t believe that. You never have before.”
“So what if it does?” said Gunjita. “So what? You’ll find something new to cherish.”
“I don’t want to. Do you really not understand?” It seemed so simple, so elementary. He was puzzled and upset that they didn’t get it.
Gunjita was pitiless. “No. I don’t understand. You think you’re being heroic. This isn’t heroism, Cav. It’s stubbornness. It’s idealism. It’s fluff. Romantic bluster. No one builds statues to romantics.”
“I don’t want a statue.”
“You want something. What?”
Freedom, he thought. An end to the work of living.
And time. Time to prepare. Time to get into the right frame of mind. Find the right zone, and take up residence.
True observation was fearless. It was egoless. You had to give everything, expect nothing in return. His hope and his prayer: to be present, fully, for the experience.
“Aren’t you even a little curious?”
“I’ll be curious when I have to be,” said Gunjita.
“Maybe I’ll meet the giant oyster.”
“You’re a child.”
“Don’t do this,” Dash pleaded.
“Honestly? That’s an option. I might not. I won’t know until I do it, will I? I could always back out.”
Cause for cheer, one might think. Gunjita felt differently.
“Take all the time you want. Do what you have to. I won’t be here. You’ve had enough of me? Well, guess what? The feeling’s mutual.”
She started to leave, then stopped, and came back. She took Dash by the arm. “You heard the man. He wants to be alone. Say good-bye. Let’s go.”
They departed the station the next day. Gunjita’s eyes were dry. Dash embraced his dearest friend and begged him to change his mind, at least keep it open. Cav hugged him hard, then faced the love of his life.
They stared at each other, like two old warriors, neither of them knowing what to say or do. Cav had tears in his eyes. Gunjita regarded him stoically, until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She reached out and took him in her arms. They held each other tight.
Then a miracle happened.
Time stopped, and the world disappeared. No past, no future, no uncertainty. Just that moment. Just them.
Invincible. Unassailable.
An island of bliss in a sea of amnesia.
Cav didn’t accompany them to the dock. One good-bye was enough. He was drained.
He did, however, have the strength to watch their takeoff. Every second of it. Eyes glued to the screen, as though his own life were at stake. As the shuttle ignited, then separated from the station, and all went well, he felt a wave of relief. Not long after that, he burst into tears.
He had a good, long, exhausting cry, then fell asleep. When he woke, every muscle hurt. He thought maybe he’d broken a rib. Apart from that, he felt better. Refreshed. Ready to move forward.
Mixed with this, a faint misgiving, a qualm, a question in his mind. Had he been wrong to throw Gunjita and Dash together? His wife and his best friend. If it was right, then why was he having second thoughts?
He was jealous. That was why. Not terribly, but a little went a long way.
Old men had no business being jealous.
But it gnawed at him, like a call to arms, a gauntlet that life had tossed in his path, and that needed to be dealt with before he could have any rest. As if it—life—would seize on anything, however petty, however small, to assert itself and not be extinguished.
He wondered how long jealousy would keep a man alive. Would depend on the jealousy. His was sharp, but fleeting. It lived only as long as his eye was turned resolutely inward. Once it turned outward, toward his loved ones and their well-being, their ongoing lives and unfolding futures, jealousy lost its grip on him. The cord was cut.
The HUBIES would come next.
He felt freer than he had in years.
–NINE–
Elvis Presley died of coronary arrhythmia.
Is that what I am going to die of? I don’t think so. Of losing my temper perhaps.[1]
Cav had not been lax. If he knew anything, it was how to conduct an investigation. He’d done his homework.
At last count, there were, roughly, a million ways to die. Less, to take one’s life. Still less, to dispose of the body afterward.