Janine shrugs. “Hindus believe that the spirit takes time to rest between lifetimes, in some sort of limbo between this world and the next. The Buddhists don’t really believe in transmigration at all.”
“But what do you believe?”
“I’m still working that out,” she says.
Griffon comes in right then, and I suspect that he’s been listening at the door. “So, are you clear on everything?” he asks. “All the rules and regulations?”
“Not exactly,” I say, trying not to give in to the tired feeling that’s setting in. I’ve come here hoping for some clear answers, but all I’m getting are more questions.
He sits down on the couch, right next to me at first so that I can feel the faint vibrations in the tiny space that separates us. After a second, he glances down and slides over so that there’s about a foot between us on the couch. For everything that says about how he feels about me, about us, it might as well be a mile.
“Don’t try to get all the answers right away,” Janine says. “Just leave yourself open to new information.” That’s the most Berkeley thing she’s said all night. “But be careful.”
She leans over and puts her arm around my shoulders. Her vibrations are even stronger than Griffon’s, but seem to have a different rhythm—one that’s softer, more controlled. “You’re welcome here any time,” she says. She nods at Griffon. “Despite appearances, you should listen to what Griffon has to say. You’d be wise to trust him.”
“I do,” I say, without glancing in his direction, the physical distance between us feeling larger than ever.
“Good,” Janine says, standing up. “I’ve got a Glee marathon lined up on my laptop, and I want to catch some of it before I go to bed. Lovely to meet you, and I hope we see you again soon.”
“Thanks for everything,” I say as she retreats to another room.
Griffon sits on the chair next to me and drinks from his own coffee mug. “Do you need to go soon?”
I glance up at the old clock over the fireplace. “Soonish,” I say, not really wanting to leave. Despite the gaping chasm that is the space between us, I still hold out hope that I’m not completely wrong—that there was meaning in his gesture last night as I felt us coming together, that I’m not completely delusional. Mom and Dad haven’t called yet, but they’ll start checking up on me soon. “My parents are still pretty strict about pretty much everything. I wish they could be cooler. More like Janine.”
Griffon glances toward the open door. “She is pretty cool,” he says. “I got lucky this time—I’ve never had an Akhet in the family before now. Makes things a lot easier.”
“She doesn’t even seem that much older than we are.”
He nods. “I’ve been Akhet a lot longer than she has, even though she’s physically older in this life. Evens things out some.” Griffon stands up and grabs two leather jackets from hooks by the door. “As long as you don’t have to be home right away, how about we go for a ride before I take you back to the station?”
I can’t hide my smile. Somewhere deep inside of me, hope stirs and stretches. “Sounds good.”
Eleven
We wind our way through Berkeley, no longer as congested now that rush hour is over. After passing the University campus, we begin to climb the dark streets higher and higher until we’re in parts of Berkeley that I’ve never seen before. The wind is weak but cold, and I hide as much of myself behind Griffon as I can, sinking into his jacket and letting his shoulders block the breeze. Leaving the houses behind, we enter Tilden Park, driving slowly along the winding roads as the moon throws shadows from the tall trees surrounding us on either side. I don’t care where we’re going, as long as I can sit quietly behind him, feeling his muscles shift and tense as he eases the bike in and out of turns.
At the top of a ridge, he pulls over into a dirt turnout flanked by giant boulders. Coasting to a stop, he holds the bike steady so I can slide off the back. As he turns the engine off, the silence surrounds us, punctuated only by the chirping of unseen frogs and the occasional hoot of an owl.
“Have you ever been up here?” he asks, pulling his helmet off.
“I think we used to come up here to ride the train,” I say, looking around. “But it’s been a long time.”
“The steam train is just down there,” he says, pointing away from the ridge. “There’s a carousel and a little farm too.”
“And pony rides.” I suddenly remember crying and being taken off a small white pony when I was little. Luckily, this memory is only a few years old, not a few hundred.
I can see his smile in the darkness. “I used to go there too,” he says. “I think every kid in the Bay Area had to have their sixth birthday at the Little Farm. I loved those ponies, even though all they did was go around and around in a circle.”
“It’s amazing how many of the same places we’ve both been over the years. We might have passed each other a million times at the park or on the street,” I say, watching a set of car headlights round the bend below us. “But we didn’t meet until we were both in London.”
Griffon walks to the edge and looks out at the lights that dot the city below us, then across the dark span of water to San Francisco. For once, the fog has retreated back under the Golden Gate Bridge, and it seems like you can see forever. “Maybe we did meet before,” he says. “But the timing wasn’t right. Your essence sometimes crosses paths with others through many lifetimes.”
I walk a few steps toward the edge and feel my heart start to pound.
Griffon turns to look back at me. “Come here and check out all the lights.”
Looking past him to where the solid ground drops out of sight, I know that this is as far as I can go. “I can’t.”
“Afraid of heights?”
I nod. “Totally.” I swallow hard to keep the rising panic down.
“You know I won’t let you fall, right?” he says, walking a few steps back to me.
“I know,” I say. “It’s almost like I don’t trust myself. Like I might lose control and jump. I’ve always been this way.” I stand on my tiptoes to look over the edge. “I can see fine from here.”
Griffon laughs and moves back beside me. “You’re right,” he says, looking around. “It’s fine from here.”
We stand looking at the view from the safety of our spot. “So,” I begin, wanting to get back to our other conversation, “do you think we’ve had a relationship before?”
“No,” he says quickly. “I’ve searched my memories, but I haven’t found anything.” He looks at the smile on my face. “What?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Oh, now you have to tell me.”
“It’s just that I don’t think I’ll be able to get over it if we were like mother and son another time. Or worse.”
“Well, don’t worry about it. We’ve never had a relationship before. The fact that you’re starting to get some of your memories is probably the reason that we know each other now. Like I said, Akhet are often drawn to other Akhet, even if they don’t know the reasons why. Figuring it out is all part of the fun.”
I zip the jacket up tighter and set my backpack down at my feet. It’s even colder up here on the ridge, but I’m not ready to go back home. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to go back home.
“Have you ever seen so many lights?” Griffon says, scanning the scene below.
“It makes me think of all of the people who are down there,” I say. “Hundreds of thousands of them.” I shiver involuntarily. “Makes me feel small. Unimportant.”