"Uh huh."
"Good." She crossed her arms and nodded once. The landing gear went down with a solid thump. "Uh oh. Ever notice how a clock ticks faster after it's been wound? As if it's grateful to you for doing it? That's how I feel about us. That's why I want to get married. Being with you makes me feel full of energy; like I've been wound up again."
"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts and extinguish all smoking material. We're making our approach to Seattle airport."
We landed so gently that even Maris applauded the touchdown. "This guy can land me any time."
While the plane taxied to a corner of the airport, we were told to stay on board because the cargo problem would be taken care of in about twenty minutes.
I got up to go to the toilet, but the line ahead of me was long, so I stood next to the galley and waited my turn. Two stewardesses sat nearby and I was close enough to hear their conversation, although they spoke quietly.
"It's the craziest thing I ever heard of."
"Who discovered it?"
"Judy, because of that terrible smell. She told Dick and he went down to check. Isn't it weird?"
"No, it's disgusting. Thank God Dick did it. I'd have fainted, probably."
A fat black woman standing in front of me leaned over to them and asked in a lisp, "What is that smell? I been spraying 4711 all around my head to get it away!"
One stew looked at the other and shrugged. Why not tell her the answer, it'll be over soon anyway. The other shrugged okay back.
"Somehow a coffin we're carrying down below broke open when we took off from L.A."
"A coffin? My God! You mean it broke open and there's a body floppin' around against my suitcase? My son told me to be sure to fly an American airline because they don't have so many problems! My eye!"
Both stewardesses put index fingers to their lips to hush her. Giggling, one said, "It happens sometimes if they don't secure the cargo well before we take off. Don't worry, though. They're removing it now. It won't be a problem anymore."
"Wait'll I tell my son. He's a diplomat but he don't know nothin'!"
Hmphing dramatically, she marched for the toilet door when it opened, and struggled her way into the small compartment. "We haven't even got to Europe yet and things are already strange!"
Maris was in my seat looking out the window when I got back. "I think they were telling the truth about the cargo. Look at all those guys down there. Wouldn't you love to have one of their little yellow trucks? You could park it in your Hof. Hey, uh oh! Look at that."
A Cadillac hearse pulled up nearby on the tarmac. Two men in black suits got out and walked beneath the plane.
"You want to know what's going on?"
Maris turned to me. "You know? Yeah, tell me!"
"A coffin they're carrying got loose on takeoff and broke open."
"Are you serious?"
"Yup. The stewardesses were talking about it when I went to the can."
"That's one way to congratulate us on our wedding." She saw the expression on my face and put her hand on my neck. "I'm not serious, Walker. Not everything is symbolic. Just some poor guy caught up in the twentieth century. Let's watch."
After a long wait and a number of people running back and forth beneath the plane, the men from the funeral home and two airport attendants brought out the coffin. What was queer was its size – not a child's, but not adult size, either. It must have been very heavy, too, because all of them had red faces or veins bulging on their necks. The brown metal box looked undamaged at first, but then I could see a small blaze of red cloth inside at the top where the seal had broken.
"Maris sighed. "Now he knows."
"What do you mean?"
"I've thought that since I was a girl. Whenever I see a coffin, I always think whoever's in there knows the Big Answer now: what it's like after we die. Then I wonder if they're lucky or not to know."
"That's what Venasque wanted to know too. But with all his powers, he couldn't find out."
She looked at me. "Maybe we're not supposed to know. Maybe we should just live the best we can and hope we've done it right by the end."
"How do you know you're living the best you can? How do you know your best isn't really bad?"
"I'm an optimist. I don't think God would be that unfair."
"I love you, Maris."
"That's one of the reasons why I'm an optimist."
PART TWO
HIS OWN TOO MUCH
People create the reality they need
in order to discover themselves.
A clown isn't funny in the moonlight.
CHAPTER FOUR
1.
Vienna was in the midst of a January thaw. Islands of snow spotted the dark earth; the airport runway gleamed wetly in warm, late afternoon sun.
Grinning, Maris waited for me at the bottom of the stairs leading off the plane. "I just spoke German again and it felt funny."
"It doesn't feel funny being back here. It's great. When we get home I want to call California and see how Venasque is."
"Walker, you've been calling three times a day. I really think they'll let you know if anything changes."
"It's important to me, Maris."
"I know it is, but I think you're overdoing it. Let it rest a little."
People walked by toward the bus that would take us to the terminal. I took her arm and pulled her toward it. "Come on, it's not worth arguing about. We're home."
"You're right. I wonder how your cat is? I kept thinking about him on the plane."
"He's happy as a clam. Whenever I give him to Frau Noot he comes back five pounds heavier. She feeds him chicken hearts whenever he's hungry."
While we were waiting by the luggage carousel for our bags to arrive, a striking man with bleached white hair and high-tech, punk clothes walked up to Maris and embraced her from behind. She spun around, but on seeing who it was, hugged him.
"Vitamin D!"
"Hey, Maris! Where the hell have you been, damn it? We've been looking all over Munich for you."
"Victor Dixon, this is my husband, Walker Easterling."
"Husband? You got married! That's the news of the week. You're living here now, or what?"
"Walker, Victor's the lead guitarist of the group Vitamin D."
"Hey, Walker! You're a lucky man and I hate you. Congratulations. Yeah, we're giving a concert here at the Audi Max tomorrow night. You want to come?"
"You've got a hit, huh, Victor? No more playing at Onkel Pц?"
"Hey, we're number nine on the American Hot Hundred. Number one in Deutschland."
"I know. We were just in Los Angeles. Every time I turned on the radio they were playing it. 'Sundays in the Sky,' right? I'm proud of you, Victor. You fought through and did it."
He looked at her with little boy's eyes, loving and longing for her approval. Plainly, something big had gone on between them in the past. I could have been jealous, but felt only pride. Pride in Maris, pride in our relationship. Victor Dixon was right to love her, and I liked him for that.
"Take care of her, Walker, she's true gold.
"I'll leave some tickets at the box office and you can go if you want. Maris, I'm happy for you. Everybody'll be glad to hear you're all right."