Macy stopped to glare at Aja. “I don’t know if any of us can imagine the agony that woman felt at that instant. It’s true she struck Aja right then. But let’s be honest—can any of us blame her?”
“The woman shouldn’t have hit her!” a student called out.
Macy nodded. “I agree. Aja was under no obligation to heal Keko. But couldn’t she have treated the woman with a modicum of compassion? And make no mistake—the woman didn’t really hurt Aja. I know because the friends of my parents who were at Benny’s were spending the night at the Hilton in Balen. Guess who happened to be in the room beside them? Aja and Fred. I’d rather not go into detail but from the noise the two of them made we can safely assume Aja was feeling no pain.”
The audience laughed. I forced a smile to show I got the joke. But I could feel my face burning. Did no one in the crowd stop and ask themselves what a coincidence it was that the couple who was watching at the restaurant just happened to be in the room next to us at the hotel? I wanted to step to the microphone and shout out that we’d been followed but the way Macy was watching me I could tell that was exactly what she was hoping I’d do.
“Like Principal Levitt, I’m a Christian,” Macy continued. “I know many of you here are. As I said at the start, I look to the Bible to guide me in life. I try to treat others the way I want to be treated. I do my best to live as I believe Christ would want me to live. That’s not to say I try to model my daily life after Christ. I know that would be impossible. I just do the best I can. But studying Aja from a distance I have to ask myself if she does the same. Why does she give so much help to a guy who deals in drugs? Why couldn’t she comfort Keko’s mother even a little bit? Did Keko mean nothing to her because she was Japanese? Or was Aja distracted because she was anxious to check into the hotel with Fred? I asked myself these questions when I was waiting in line in our courtyard for a chance to speak to Aja. After hearing so much about her power, I thought it only fair that I talk to her face-to-face.”
Macy turned and again glared at Aja. “But you know what Aja told me? Nothing. It didn’t matter what I asked. It didn’t matter how sincere my questions were. She wouldn’t give me the time of day. It was like I meant nothing to her.” Macy paused. “Admit it, Aja, you blew me off.”
Aja just stared at her, silent, unblinking.
The fact that she’d been unable to goad Aja appeared to annoy Macy. She pointed an angry finger at Aja, raised her voice. “I think the jury’s still out on you! Like Reverend Basken, I still have grave doubts about where your power comes from!”
Macy was a performer. That’s how she’d gotten elected student body president. She knew when to make her exit. She did it right then, stepping away from the microphone and striding triumphantly back to her seat. I was stunned, and depressed, to hear more than a few people applaud.
Principal Levitt spoke from the podium. “Thank you, Macy, for your insightful words. For my part I think you made more sense than anyone else who spoke tonight. Now I think it’s time we—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Levitt, I have something important to add,” Mrs. Billard called out. Levitt turned suspiciously in her direction.
“What is it?” he asked.
“My Aja story. I want to tell it.”
Levitt appeared uncertain. “Really, Nancy, it’s getting late and I think we should decide—”
“We’re not deciding anything until I speak,” Mrs. Billard interrupted, stepping past us, toward the podium. “And you’re not going to stop me.”
I wanted to stop her. And I would have if I didn’t fear it would make Aja and me look like we had something to hide. Yet I knew Mrs. Billard’s intentions were noble.
Bless her brave heart, she was going to tell the same story she had told me in the cemetery. The tale of how her two-year-old son, Barney, had died in a car accident and the lie she had spread that had eventually forced her husband, Stan, to leave Elder. I knew her story would serve as a powerful antidote to Macy’s big speech, especially when she came to the part where Aja gave her the eleven-worded line beside the grave of her son.
Yet I feared what the telling might do to Mrs. Billard.
I wasn’t alone.
Mrs. Green stepped forward and stopped her.
She stopped Mrs. Billard in front of the microphone. They spoke fast and furiously but they kept their voices low and I wasn’t able to hear a word. I don’t know if anyone did. But it was apparent to me that Mrs. Green knew of Mrs. Billard’s deep dark secret and wanted it kept secret. I felt a wave of relief when Billard finally stopped arguing with her old friend and allowed Mrs. Green to escort her back to her seat. Levitt himself looked relieved.
“All right,” Levitt said. “It’s time we decide what to do with Aja. The choice is a simple one. Do we allow her to remain a student here at Elder High, and put up with police and reporters and guards at our door for the remainder of the year? Or do we expel her and go back to the way things were before she moved here? The members of the PTA will now vote on this matter. And I promise you the way they vote will guide me as I make my final decision.”
So much for democracy in America, I thought.
Principal Levitt had already decided to expel her.
“No,” Aja said firmly, standing beside me.
“What did you say, young lady?” Levitt said.
Aja strode to the microphone stand beneath the podium. “There’ll be no vote until I’ve had a chance to defend myself,” she said.
“What do you think you’ve been doing all night?”
“Answering other people’s questions,” Aja said.
“Let her speak!” someone shouted from the top of the bleachers. He was soon joined by others, tons of students, all shouting for Aja to be given a chance to speak. Levitt shrugged and said, “All right, I’ll give you a few minutes. Talk away.”
“Come down from the podium and join me,” Aja said.
“Why?” Levitt asked.
“The Big Person wishes to heal you. Come.”
Levitt grinned. “It’d be a waste of time. Like I told you at the start, I’m healthy as a horse.”
“Then you have nothing to fear. Come.”
“Fine,” Levitt said, acting as though he was indulging a difficult child. He stepped down from the podium and stood beside Aja and the microphone stand. “Are you going to put a spell on me?” he joked.
“Let me see your palms,” Aja said, offering her own hands.
The suggestion shook him, more than it should have.
“Why?” he asked.
“Give them to me,” she said.
Levitt resisted, for a moment, then gave in. I wasn’t sure if he had a choice. “What are you doing?” he asked as she began to trace the lines on his palms with her nails. I was perhaps a dozen feet away.
“Helping you remember,” she said.
“Remember what? I don’t need your help.”
“Shh. You’ve done this before. It works for you. It worked for her.”
“Who?”
“You remember.” Aja caught his eye. “Now close your eyes.”
“No. I don’t want—”
“Close them.”
Levitt closed his eyes, breathing heavily.
Aja continued to stroke his palms and stare at his face. “Tell me about May,” she said.
Levitt shook; the tremor went through his whole body. But he didn’t take back his hands or open his eyes. “Last May? Why? Nothing special happened then.”
“I’m not talking about the month. I’m talking about May.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“It’s hard, I know. It hurts to talk about her. But you’ll feel better if you do.” Aja added, “It’s your choice.”
He kept trembling. “No! You’re not giving me a choice.”
“But I am. You can let go of my hands right now.”
“How do you know about May? Why do you bring her up?”
“Because thinking about her is hurting you.
”
“I don’t care. I can live with it.”
“Yes, you can. That’s one choice. Or you can make another choice. One that will stop the pain.”
“I can’t talk about her in front of all these people!”
Aja let go of his hands; they continued to hang in midair.
“Okay,” she said. “We don’t have to talk about her.”
Aja turned her back on him. For his part, Levitt looked as if he’d been hit with a train. His eyes were still closed and he was shaking badly.
Aja stood silent for several seconds, her head bowed. Then she turned toward Levitt again. She took a step closer, went up on her toes, and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, Levitt nodded, and Aja reached out and turned off the microphone. The sound system went dead. The audience stirred restlessly. They didn’t like being excluded. Neither did I, actually; I stepped closer.
Aja turned and faced our principal. “Let us begin,” she said softly. Except for me and Levitt, I doubted another person in the auditorium could have heard her.
Levitt suddenly looked weary, confused. In the space of two minutes she had disarmed him. “I don’t understand how this can help me.”
What was this? I wondered.
Was it Aja’s healing? Or was it May?
Aja took back his hands and returned to tracing the lines on his palms. No surprise, I knew exactly how her nails felt as they dug into his skin. Aja spoke in a gentle tone.
“In this world your conscience is like a whisper in the mind. Soft and wise, it’s always there, always guiding you. But should you fail to listen—in the next world it sounds like thunder.” Aja paused. “What does that whisper tell you about May?”
Levitt groaned, spoke faintly. “I should never have denied she was mine.”
“Go on.”
“I was afraid people would talk. I was afraid what they’d say if they saw me with her mother.”
“Angie,” Aja said.
Levitt drew in a deep shuddering breath. “Yes. I loved her and her daughter.”
“Your daughter.”
“Yes. But I never got to . . .” He didn’t finish.
“You never got to tell her that.”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you tell her now?”
“You don’t understand. I can’t. It’s too late.”
“May died?” Aja said.
“Yes. I can never tell her anything, ever again.”
“That’s not true. Tonight, you’ll have a chance to tell Angie how you feel. And in the future, you’ll see your daughter again.” Aja paused. “Now open your eyes.”
Levitt opened his eyes, wiping at the unexpected tears on his face. He looked dazed. His raspy voice sounded like the gasp of a dying man.
“How did you know?” he said.
“Talk to Angie.” Aja turned and gestured to someone I couldn’t see at first, not until she stepped free of the crowd at the rear of the gym. It was the black woman in the blue gown I’d met on the bench in the park. Tonight she wore a white dress. Seeing her, Levitt almost fainted. Aja had to grab his arm to keep him upright. But then the woman, Angela, was hugging our principal and Aja was able to let go. The audience watched rapt, silent, overwhelmed. They had not heard what had transpired at the end but it didn’t matter. The sight of the two embracing was what counted.
Aja turned toward the door and walked out of the gym.
It was her moment; I just watched her go.
The PTA meeting was over.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MY MIND REELED as I drove out of the school parking lot. Naturally I was happy Aja had ended on such a positive note. Yet I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. Had Aja spoken to Angela before the meeting? Had the healing of Levitt’s emotional wound been partially staged? For the life of me I couldn’t imagine Aja planning such an act ahead of time to impress the crowd. The girl was so spontaneous it was a wonder she remembered to wake up in the morning. Nor did she give a hoot what other people thought about her. Also, when she had turned off the microphone, she had gone out of her way to protect Levitt’s privacy, despite the fact the two of them had been standing in front of a large crowd.
No, I told myself, Aja would never have set out to con anyone at the PTA meeting.
Yet she had known things about Levitt she shouldn’t have known. It had seemed . . . well, like another miracle. I suppose it was odd that I found her insights more difficult to accept than her healings. It was easier for me to grant the Big Person infinite power but harder to accept that it was all-knowing.
Before I drove out to Aja’s place, I decided to swing by Janet’s house one last time. Mindy Paulson had shaken me up. She had acted like Janet’s situation was obvious and I was a fool not to see it. I didn’t like playing the part of the fool. I’d made up my mind I wasn’t leaving Janet’s front door until her father opened it. I’d kick it in if I had to.
As it turned out I only knocked once before Bo answered. Maybe he was weary of playing hide-and-seek. From the miserable look on his face he was clearly exhausted. He let me in without a word and I followed him into the living room, where we had watched so many football and baseball games together. A corner lamp was the only source of illumination; otherwise, the room was filled with shadows. He had a bottle of Jim Beam in hand and wordlessly offered me a drink but I shook my head. He took a deep slug and sighed, plopping down on a chair. I sat on the sofa across from him.
“How did the meeting go?” he asked.
“Aja blew them away. I doubt she’ll be expelled.”
“Huh.”
He fell silent, staring at a nearby framed picture of Janet, her mother, and Bo. I’d seen it a hundred times but had never given it much thought. The photograph was probably ten years old. Janet looked about eight years old and Mrs. Cynthia Shell was smiling radiantly, along with her husband.
Was Bo drinking because he was dreaming of the good old days? I’d never understood fully why their marriage had crumbled. All I knew was that Cynthia hadn’t met her present husband until after she’d left Bo and moved to New York. Back then Janet had split town with her mother, only to return a year later. At the time Janet had said she had come back because she missed her friends—me in particular. But I’d always wondered if there was more to the story than that.
“Is Janet still in New York?” I asked.
“As far as I know.”
“She’s not answering her cell. I’ve left a dozen messages.”
“I know the feeling.”
“I’m sure you do. Just like I’m sure you know why she left.”
Bo stared at me with bloodshot eyes. “It’s none of your business.”
“Don’t give me that shit. Your daughter’s my best friend. I have a right to know what’s going on.”
Bo snorted and took another hit of the bottle. “Ask that bitch you’re sleeping with. I’m sure she’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
His choice of words shocked me.
“Why are you calling Aja a bitch?” I snapped.
“What do you want me to call her? She’s the one who stirred up this whole mess.”
I pondered his choice of words. Stirred. He was implying that Aja had brought up something from Janet’s past, or from his past. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d just witnessed Aja’s miraculous ability to pluck buried sins and old scars out of the ether.
Bo returned to staring at the photograph of his once joyful family. There was something wrong with the image that my gut sensed but my eyes couldn’t see. What was it? The trio looked so textbook happy the picture could have been used as a poster to advertise a new sitcom.
“Whatever Aja tells someone in private, she keeps private,” I said. “She won’t tell me anything about Janet.”
“Well, bless her heart. She should write the Pope in Rome and ask if he can make an exception and ordain her as Elder’s next priest. Then she can hear all our confessions.”
I stood. “Y
ou know, if you weren’t drunk right now I’d beat the shit out of you.”
Bo tried smiling but it ended up closer to a grimace. He drank again. “Don’t let the old bottle hold you back, Fred. I can drain it to the last drop and still kick your ass any day of the week.”
“Like you kicked Janet’s ass?”
He winced at my remark and I knew I’d hit a nerve. But I’d just been fishing. Except that it was something painful, I had no idea what the nerve was connected to. His reply didn’t help.
“I suppose,” he said.
“You didn’t beat your daughter. You wouldn’t have done that.”
He nodded, more to himself, and began to lean forward in his frumpy chair, coming close to falling out of it. I noticed he had tears on his face. He couldn’t stop looking at the framed picture. I took a step closer.
“Bo, come on, talk to me. I can help.”
“You can’t help. It’s not something that can be fixed.” He coughed before adding, “Or forgotten.”
Stirred. Forgotten. He was definitely talking about something that had happened in the past, something that Aja had awakened in her contact with Janet. And the photograph appeared to remind him of that something. Yet, except for their exaggerated gaiety, I couldn’t see what Mindy had told me was so obvious. . . .
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