"He always has his reasons. He told me he was really looking forward to working with you. Now this. That's why I'm asking, so don't be offended. You might have done something without even knowing it . . . Possibly while you were asleep?"
"Philip, it's possible, but what are the chances? I don't know what happened when I was asleep. I dreamed I was back in the Middle Ages with my father. He wouldn't sell potatoes to a man with the plague. When I woke up, Venasque was gone."
"Nothing in your dream might have caused it?"
"Nothing that I know of."
It was not until three days later and we were flying back to Vienna that I remembered the part of the dream that could have caused everything: my father making the "sweet man" and the animal skull explode the moment they became dangerous. Why didn't I remember that when Strayhorn was standing ten inches from me, waiting for information that could save Venasque? Why didn't I remember that?
It was three o'clock in the morning when I got home, but a light was on in the living room. Maris was still up, reading a collection of poetry by her favorite, Diane Wakoski. She looked up from the book, then down again with a smile and read:
"Metaphors
I kiss you goodbye
for a while
and will talk about my own perceptions,
angers,
and even the admiration I feel for the beautiful
scoundrel."
"Hello, my scoundrel. How are you? How come you're back? What's with Venasque?"
"That's the second time tonight I've heard poetry. Is today still Tuesday? Jesus, it's been a hundred hours long. Venasque is in a coma. It's bad. Strayhorn and Harry Radcliffe are up there with him at the hospital."
"You mean my Harry Radcliffe, the architect? Wow!"
"Remember I told you he studied with Venasque, too? Philip and he came to the hospital and made it pretty clear it'd be better if I left. So I did, and drove his car back. What a night, Maris! What a day! You once said 'It's a day that tires you out the rest of your life,' and that was it exactly. All I wanted to do was get home to you.
"Hey, how come you're not at your brother's house? I was so glad to see you that I forgot you're not supposed to be here."
She kissed my cheek. "I had a feeling you'd be back tonight. Anyway, I don't like the guy Ingram's living with. Have you noticed how Los Angeles is a T-shirt society? Everyone lets you know who they are on their T-shirt. This guy wore one that said 'I'd love to sleep with you, but I'm taking lunch with my agent.' Tell me about what happened. Don't leave anything out."
"Do you mind if I do it in the morning? I'm really pooped."
She got up and pulled me after her. "Of course. I'm sorry. Come on, let's go to bed. Is there anything I can do? Make you something to eat? You want a back rub?"
"No, thanks. You know what Venasque told Strayhorn? That I have 'enormous magic' in me, quote unquote. He thought that sea monster we saw might've come up because I was there." I sat down again. "What do you think he meant by that?"
"What he said. You went to him because all those strange things were happening to you. He sensed, or knew, where they came from, that's why he wanted to work with you. And that's why it's so terrible this happened. I've been thinking about you and Venasque since you left, and you know what? I'm sure the flying lessons were only a metaphor. Maybe he really was going to teach you, but I doubt it. He never told you he taught anyone else how to do it, did he? The others, like Philip and Harry Radcliffe, learned really mundane things like how to swim and how to play a musical instrument. Only you were supposed to fly, Walker. That's not the easiest thing in the world to teach a person. I don't know anything about it, but I'm sure it was a metaphor for something else. Don't ask me what."
"But your brother was the one who initially said Venasque taught people to fly."
"I know. I talked with Ingram about that today and found out something interesting: Everyone who has gone to Venasque comes away feeling better or healed. But according to my brother, no one he knows has ever actually learned to fly. People go to him for that because that's what he advertises, but he never taught it. You were going to be the first."
"That's interesting. Sounds like you're probably right." But as I said that, a picture came to mind from the dream (flashback?) I'd had at Venasque's one night: small children flying gently through the window of a stone schoolhouse in the South of France, forty years ago.
3.
Almost at the same time Maris said she would marry me, the airplane yawed hard to one side and began turning. We shared blank "Huh?" looks.
"I don't like it when planes make curves, Walker."
"Maybe the pilot heard what you said and is looping the loop for us." She closed her eyes and tensed her mouth. "Honey, don't worry."
"I won't worry when my feet are on the ground again. How come the wing is below us? What's going on?"
"I don't know."
"What a moment for this to happen! I finally say 'I do' and the plane crashes. That's nice."
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Monninger. We've run into a small technical problem, so we're going to land at Seattle airport in fifteen minutes to take care of it. Nothing to worry about, though. We've got some freight shifting in the hold and it's got to be secured. Sorry about the inconvenience. We'll get it fixed and be under way in no time."
"You think he's telling the truth?"
"Sure. The fact he said what it was proves it. When there are big problems –"
"– like bombs?"
"They don't tell you anything. I'm sure it's the cargo."
"Stewardess, could I have another brandy?"
I tried to take her hand but she shook me off. "I'm too nervous."
I looked out the window at the gray clouds. We'd both been so glad to leave Los Angeles that we'd all but run onto the plane. I'd been looking at the flight map when she turned to me an hour into the flight and said in a small voice, "Do you still want to marry me?"
Trying to keep my head on, I put the map down and looked at her. "I'd love to marry you, Maris. You know that. I would love that more than anything."
"I've never been married before."
"I know."
Then the plane tipped.
The stewardess brought the brandy and Maris downed it in three big gulps. "I'm terrified. Now that I want to get married, flying scares me even more. That's a good sign, isn't it? Before, I was just scared of dying. Now I'm worried my husband's going to die."
During all the turning and descending, I noticed somewhere in the midst of that a very strange smell in the plane. Because there was nothing else to do, I kept sniffing to try and figure out what it was, but had no luck. It was unpleasantly sweet, thick and stale like an old box of candy.
The plane dropped below the clouds and suddenly the absolute blue and white of high skies gave over to the green of Washington State. Off to our left, the sun cut through a patch of purple-gray clouds and lit a section of the city like an acetylene torch.
"God's flashlight."
"What?" Maris leaned over and looked out the window across my lap.
"Doesn't that light over there look like God's shining a flashlight down through the clouds?"
She kissed my cheek. "That's a nice image. I know a guy who lives in Seattle, Henry Samuel. A real jerk. Maybe we'll crash into his house and I can say hello. What's that smell? It's like room deodorizer."
"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out."
"Are the engines on fire?" Leaning over farther for a better look out the window, she said, "Walker, I meant what I said about getting married. I'm just not saying anything more now because I don't know what to say. Do you understand? But I want it! I realized that when you went away with Venasque. Being alone again, even for that short time, didn't make me feel helpless or moony. Just indignant . . . no, confused by your absence. Does that make sense?"