Coattail Karma

by Verlin Darrow

  Perhaps the fast pace had been designed to keep me off-balance. I liked this theory better than the idea that my life was now completely out of control, careening like a billiard ball from one crazy scenario to the next.

  The real question was, how did I want to respond to all this? Could I just go back to my life in Santa Cruz and forget about it all? I could contact the police and report the slew of crimes that had been committed. Or I could hang around and find out more about my potential role in modern Buddhism, despite the drama.

  I realized that if I could press a reset button and just return to my life before I met Paul, I wouldn’t do it. I just didn’t know enough yet to make a call about anything. If I walked away or had everyone locked up, I probably wouldn’t find out who I really was.

  As usual, I’d managed to overwhelm myself with a flurry of unanswerable questions. I opened my eyes and found Bhante sitting next to me.

  “Jason called ahead and made hotel reservations,” Bhante told me. “I think you’ll enjoy Tuaranoa. It’s a lovely town.”

  The ordinariness of this confused me. Weren’t we on the run from some armed force? “Uh, okay,” I said.

  “I’m sure you’re very tired,” Bhante continued. “By the time we get in, it will be past nightfall here, but very late for a world traveler such as yourself. We’ll just leave you to your sleep, and we can talk in the morning if you wish. Or of course, we can arrange transportation for you if you still wish to leave.”

  “Okay,” I said again. It seemed pointless to argue or express my anger.

  “I owe you my life,” Bhante continued. “I would have fallen off the cliff but for you. I hope you’ll afford me the opportunity to repay you in some way.” He put his hands together and bowed. Then he walked carefully to Jason’s side, where he stood with his hand on the big man’s shoulder as he spoke to him.

  I moved across to Sam’s side of the boat and sat next to her on a wet, cold cushion. “Have you heard the plan?” I asked.

  “Yes. It’s kind of them to make arrangements.”

  I didn’t respond to that. Sam sensed my mood. She put her arm around my shoulder and leaned into me. I hadn’t noticed before, but my wet butt clued me in that it was getting cooler by the minute as the sun sank lower. Our legs were still wet from wading to the boat, too.

  Sam was wonderfully warm. “You’re a furnace,” I said.

  “I run hot. Is that a complaint?”

  “Oh no.”

  I leaned into her too, and we just huddled together wordlessly for the remainder of the boat ride.

  ****

  The hotel wasn’t a hotel; it was more of a sprawling bed-and-breakfast—a wooden, one-story building that had apparently been a boat works at one time. Its own weathered wharf snaked out into the bay, and an attractive young woman met us there to help with the luggage we didn’t have.

  “Oh my God!” she said when she spotted Jason. This seemed to be the standard New Zealand reaction to the guy. I guess it was akin to running into Michael Jordan or Tiger Woods. Jason was gracious—even kind—to her, and needless to say we were treated like royalty.

  “How do you know Mr. Patariki?” the front desk clerk whispered to me. He could’ve been the gay best friend of a film protagonist—maybe a set designer or a gossip columnist. His pink polo shirt clashed with his red cardigan sweater.

  “He kidnapped me,” I whispered back.

  “Ha, ha. Very good.”

  Bhante insisted Sam and I each take a bay-view room, while he and Jason shared a small suite near the lobby. Once I used the bathroom and showered, I discovered an internal door between my room and Sam’s. I unlocked my side of it. You never know.

  I fell asleep almost as soon as I’d taken my clothes off and climbed into bed.

  Some hours later, I rolled onto my side and stretched out an arm to scratch an itch on my calf. Oh God, I ache all over. I lifted my head and winced. At least I’m still alive. That was as positive as I could manage in that moment. I wasn’t looking forward to becoming vertical.

  Then I saw Sam! She lay next to me, naked, the covers completely off her. I stopped breathing for a moment and then gasped. One creamy white breast rested by her arm; the other tilted toward me. Her belly was flat. Underneath that, her blond pubic hair trailed down between her open thighs, allowing me a glimpse of what lay underneath. Her lips there matched the color of her small, light pink nipples.

  My morning erection throbbed. In repose, no wrinkles marred her dreamy, serene face—lo and behold, she has a face, too. The sight of her—so near, so vulnerable—moved me at some deep level. Half of me was now in my heart; the other half was still residing in my penis. It was confusing. I didn’t even know this woman. What did my heart have to do with finding a beautiful, naked woman in my bed? Had her energy from the day before had yet another effect on me?

  Sam’s strong Scandinavian features complemented each other, and the sum was much greater than the parts. In isolation, her nose, her mouth, and all the rest were pretty enough, but it was the synergy of them that was so harmonious.

  Eventually, I reached down and pulled up the covers, hovering near her to manage the task. Without opening her eyes, Sam slowly reached up, encircled my torso, and then gently brought me down onto her. She opened her eyes, and she was right there—right behind her eyes. Perhaps she’d been awake for a while; there was no sleep in her at all. Her sky-blue eyes held flecks of gray.

  We held our poses, just gazing at one another. It was peaceful, even soothing for a moment, and then my erection asserted itself against her belly.

  “Oh my,” she said softly. Her sweet breath wafted across to me—a contrast to mine, I was sure.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t be,” Sam replied, moving out from under me and reaching down to hold me. A moment later, she’d slithered down, and her mouth encircled my cock. I closed my eyes as waves of exquisite sensation came at me. It had been a long time.

  Sam wasn’t about to end our lovemaking there. After bringing me tantalizingly close to coming several times, she slid up my body and kissed me as she repositioned herself. Moments later, she held eye contact as she slowly lowered herself onto me. We fit together perfectly. Despite her increasingly furious rocking, we remained locked together as our pleasure mounted.

  The end was spectacular. My explosion and her spasms arrived mere seconds apart.

  Utterly spent—I’d never felt more relaxed—my mind floated away as I lay entangled with Sam. Dreamy images came unbidden—the night sky, the ocean, Sam’s exquisite face hovering above me while we made love. Then I felt her energy again, stronger now. Or was it hers? It seemed to be emanating from me—from my heart. I basked in its warmth, its love. That’s what it was—it was love. Somehow I knew this.

  We hadn’t spoken for the last half hour, and I wasn’t inclined to return to the world of words. My bladder yammered at me, though, so I gently disengaged myself and padded off.

  On the way back, my stomach emitted a startling yowl. “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  Sam stretched and smiled, glistening with sweat. I was tempted to leap back into bed, but she answered me before the impulse translated itself into action. “I’m famished. Do you think the kitchen is open yet?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  We hustled into our filthy clothes and headed for the dining room. It was a larger space than I would’ve imagined, with a massive limestone fireplace and picture windows overlooking the water. Yellowish wood planks lined the walls and also formed the floor. Another couple and an older Hispanic man were the only other diners. The man was a long way from home. But so were we.

  “Do you think Bhante’s picking up the tab?” I asked Sam after we’d seated ourselves.

  “I’m sure he is.” She reached across the wooden table and took my hand. Once again, hers felt softer than the last time I’d held it. How is that possible?

  I relinquished my hand and ordered eggs Benedict and a plate of local,
fresh fruit from the quiet young man who waited on us. Sam requested “whatever you like the best and lots of it,” which animated our server, who bustled off to surprise her.

  “Why don’t we get to know each other?” I suggested, playing with my fork.

  “I know a great deal about you already, Sid,” Sam pointed out.

  “So I’ll play catch up. Where are you from?” I switched to my spoon.

  “DC, until I was twelve. Then New Jersey.”

  “That’s a tough age to move. What exit?”

  “Eightish—Princeton.”

  I smiled, and Sam smiled back. “That’s hardly New Jersey at all. I’ve been there. Tell me about your family,” I said. The knife needed adjusting next. Maybe after that, I’d keep my hands still.

  She sighed. “My mother was abusive—mostly verbal but sometimes physical. My father was largely absent—a workaholic. I had an older brother who died from a nurse’s mistake in the hospital—an overdose of painkiller.”

  “God, that’s awful. How old were you when it happened?”

  “Twenty-seven. I drank.” Sam grimaced and shrugged.

  “You?”

  Sam nodded. “I hadn’t been to therapy yet. And I still thought the world was only random chaos. I had no way to hold a tragedy—to make sense out of it.”

  “You can now?”

  “Yes, but let me ask you something I’ve been wondering about. How are you doing with all this? You’re hard to read, Sid.”

  “No one’s ever told me that before,” I said. In fact, I thought of myself as rather transparent.

  “Oh, I see what’s on the surface—the fear, the confusion, the anger.” She smiled gently, but I felt insulted that she’d only listed negative emotions. “And your thoughts are evident sometimes,” she continued, “but you’re a complicated guy. I sense layers below the Sid the world sees. Your energy signature reflects that, too. It’s as if there are three or four beings built on top of one another inside of you—the way modern cities use ancient ones as their foundations.”

  “Well, that’s an interesting way to put it. At the risk of dodging your original question and demonstrating my opaqueness, what do you mean by ‘energy’? I’ve been having some new experiences along those lines.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  I did, although I had to struggle to describe what I’d felt. As I spoke, a continuous warmth in my chest somehow enhanced my sense of connection to the world, and I brought that up, too.

  “What I thought was sexual afterglow now seems to be a shift at a more basic level,” I told Sam. I stopped and looked closely at her face. “Were you doing some sort of tantric thing in bed—sending me energy? Rearranging me?”

  She smiled. “Maybe it’s love,” she said. Then she frowned.

  Does she regret saying that? My heart seemed to stutter for a moment. “That’s not much of an answer.”

  “For now,” Sam said, “let’s call it chi—life force. We all have it. And it’s exchanged during lovemaking. I’m enjoying yours, too.”

  “What’s mine like?” I leaned forward, my eyes locked with hers.

  She pondered this, tilting her head charmingly. “It’s ineffable.”

  “I don’t know that word.”

  “Indescribable. I have a feeling you’re soon going to be using it quite a bit.”

  “Why am I suddenly feeling this energy if it’s always been around? I never felt it before.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What about RGP? I know you didn’t want to talk about your organization with Bante there, but it’s just us now.”

  Sam gently shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Our food arrived. Cold eggs might’ve discouraged me on another day, but I was starving. And the variety of unfamiliar fruit was a delight. I especially liked the feijoa, which resembled a guava (if you squinted real hard).

  Sam hit the jackpot—blue moki soft tacos with hash browns and a fruit plate twice as big as mine.

  “Our moki’s from the deep waters off Three Kings Island,” our server explained to Sam.

  I tried a few more mundane questions and discovered Sam had worked in HR for several years before her calling, which she described as a spiritual awakening that came with an AAA-style roadmap—one with a highlighted route. She’d been married once for four years, had never had children, and now lived in Los Gatos, California, which was only a half hour’s drive from Santa Cruz. I smiled; she wouldn’t be flying back to Timbuktu or wherever when all this was through. Whatever this was.

  As Sam talked, she pulled me deeper and deeper into the moment. I felt markedly calmer, and everything became radiantly beautiful. Life was exactly the way it should be. All of it. I suddenly knew this in my bones.

  Jason strode in as Sam and I finished our leisurely breakfast, and all that immediately vanished. By now, the sun was fighting through the mist, occasionally sending a column of morning light into the room, and one illuminated his broad torso as he approached our table. I surprised myself by offering Jason a seat.

  “Is Bhante still asleep?” Sam asked as he lowered himself onto his chair.

  One of these days, a piece of furniture is going to disintegrate under him.

  “He’s been up for hours. He’s out walking,” the Maori said.

  “He certainly is active, isn’t he?” I said. “How old is he, anyway?”

  “I have no idea. In his eighties, maybe. Was he whizzing around on that hill yesterday?” His New Zealand accent made “whizzing” a bit difficult to decipher.

  “He certainly was,” Sam said.

  “He’s a marvel,” Jason said. “I want to be like him when I grow up.” He smiled a huge, warm smile.

  “If you grow up is more like it,” I said.

  “Aw, don’t be like that, man. I’m talking about Bhante here, not me. Everybody should be more like him. He’s a really great guy. And how about the way he keeps his cool when all hell’s breaking loose?”

  I was struck by the rhythm and pattern of his speech. It was a cross between African-American and Hawaiian. At this point, the other guests departed, and we were alone in the room. The couple had gawked at Sam’s beauty on the way out, while the Hispanic man had studied my face as he passed.

  I decided to test the waters with Jason. “So Bhante told me I was free to go if I wanted to—that your strong-arm tactics were against his orders. So what if I got up right now and walked away? What would you do?”

  “I’m sorry,” Jason replied. “He didn’t say anything about that to me. I can’t let you go.”

  “Sam can kick your ass,” I said.

  He smiled. “You can’t get in my head today. Maybe she can, and maybe she can’t. But why have a big fight here in this nice place? What’s your hurry? If we wait for Bhante, he can tell me it’s okay, and then you can do whatever you want. What do you say? Can we be friends this morning?”

  Bhante appeared in the doorway behind him before I had a chance to answer. “Namaste,” he called.

  “Good morning,” Jason and I said simultaneously.

  “May I join you?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I answered.

  He wore his recently dirtied blue robe. Dark semicircles drooped under his eyes. He lowered himself gingerly onto the seat beside me. Almost immediately, the waiter served him tea.

  “How are the clones?” I asked. “Is everyone okay? Did they escape, too?” I was back to playing with my fork. This time I twirled it as quickly as I could.

  “I’ve been able to reach several of your brothers, and they report all is well. The attackers had some way of distinguishing you from the others. When they realized you and I and Jason were no longer there, they became angry and destroyed some items of value, but then they withdrew.”

  “And the gunshots?” Sam asked.

  “To get everyone’s attention,” Bhante answered, “but a shot ricocheted off the wall and hit one of the attackers in the arm.”

  “Instant
karma gonna get you,” Jason said, chuckling.

  “They didn’t discover the back door?” I asked.

  “Apparently they did, but the helicopter didn’t spot us, and it didn’t seem plausible to them that we could have escaped down the cliff. I am a bit more agile than a casual observer might think.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You said that they destroyed things, Bhante. What about the relics—the Buddha bones? Is that what you meant?”

  “Oh no. They’re safe in another location. But I fear if the cave’s secret has become known, perhaps the relics are not as secure as I would like to believe. We must journey there. It is essential that they not fall into the wrong hands.”

  “Why? And whose hands are wrong?” I asked. “Who is Jackson?”

  Jason’s breakfast arrived at that point. He’d ordered twice as much food as we had. A pink note with a hand-drawn heart and a phone number sat on top of a stack of pancakes.

  “These women,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Jackson is a rival of sorts,” Bhante said, waving away the menu the waiter offered. “He is a very powerful spiritual being whose interests collide with ours.”

  “A spiritual being?” I asked. “What you mean by that? And by definition, isn’t deploying troops and helicopters an unspiritual mode of problem solving?”

  Bhante threw his hands in the air, startling me. “None of us can escape our basic nature. We are human.” He brought his arms down gradually, as if to counterbalance his sudden movement.

  Sam repeated the other part of my question. “So why are the relics so important?”

  “Well, of course, they’re sacred and have healing powers,” he said, “but their value to our organization goes beyond that. With the DNA from the relics, we can prove that Sid is truly a clone of the Buddha.”

  “Who is it that we need to prove this to?” I asked. “And why? What’s the big deal about who I might be?”

  “The entire world needs to know,” Bhante said, spreading his arms. “You came into human form with an imperative destiny, Sid. Unless you fulfill your mission, the physical universe may perish.”