‘Uh-huh?’
‘I would like to tell you about it, but in private. Is there somewhere we can go?’
‘I guess. Sure.’
‘Stuart,’ she said, giving him the tea towel. ‘I’m talking with Lin, for a while. Come and get me, in twenty minutes.’
I dried my hands and led her from the open kitchen to a fallen tree that many used as a place to read or converse. We sat down alone. I looked at Vinson, in the open kitchen, washing dishes contentedly.
‘I lied,’ Rannveig said.
‘About what?’
‘Karla didn’t say or do anything that I would have to tell you privately. Karla only told me to tell you that she’ll see you soon, and that she was keeping the faith, and changing the faith every day, just to be sure.’
‘Nice,’ I said, smiling. ‘What do you want to talk about, Rannveig?’
‘Your girlfriend, Lisa,’ she said intently.
She was searching my eyes, unsure whether she’d crossed a line or not.
‘Because your boyfriend died from an overdose, too?’
‘Yes,’ she said, lowering her eyes, then raising them quickly to look at Vinson.
‘It’s okay,’ I said.
She turned to face me.
‘When I heard about it,’ she said, ‘I was shocked. I only met her once, but it punched me in the stomach, you know?’
‘Me, too. How are you coping?’
‘How do I look?’
She’d filled out a little, and there was a healthy pink blush in her cheeks. Her startling eyes, blue light through blue ice, were clear. Her hands, which had fidgeted and curled into themselves whenever I’d seen her before, were as calm as sleeping kittens in her lap.
She wore a sky-blue T-shirt, a man’s suit vest, and faded jeans. Her feet were bare. She wore no jewellery or make-up. Her oval-shaped face was driven by a strong nose, and full lips.
‘You look very pretty,’ I said.
She frowned at me. Maybe she thought I was coming on to her.
‘I’m not coming on to you,’ I laughed. ‘I’m taken, for this and many lifetimes, past and to come.’
‘You are? You found someone again, after –’
‘Before. And after. Yeah.’
‘And you’re connected to someone? Like before?’
‘Oh, yeah. But not like before.’
‘Better?’
‘Better. And it’ll get better for you.’
She looked at Vinson, drying dishes.
‘My family, in Norway, they’re very strict Catholics. My boyfriend was everything they hated, so, you know, to show my independence I followed him to India.’
‘What was he doing in India?’
‘We were supposed to be going to an ashram, but when we got to Bombay, we never moved.’
‘He’d been here before?’
‘A few times, yes. Now, I know it was for drugs, each time.’
‘But it hurt, when he died. And it still hurts, right?’
‘I wasn’t in love with him, but I liked him a lot, and I really tried to care for him.’
‘And what about Vinson?’
‘I think I’m falling in love with Stuart. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt like this about anyone. But I’m not letting myself go to him. I can’t. I know he wants it, and I want it too, but I can’t.’
‘Well . . . ’
‘How are you coping with it?’ she demanded, her mouth wide with pleading. ‘How did you get connected again?’
How did I get connected again? It was a good question, for a man who was a mountain away from the woman he loves.
‘Stuart will be generous, I think,’ I said. ‘He’ll give you time. There’s no rush. From what I can see, he’s much happier than when I first met him.’
‘He could be happier,’ she sighed. ‘And so could I. Do you get stuck, sometimes, in memories?’
‘Sure.’
‘You do?’
‘Sure. It’s a natural thing. We’re emotional minds. And it’s okay, so long as it’s a ride, and not a way of life. Are you flashing back?’
‘Yeah. I see him in my mind, when I stop thinking. It’s like he’s still with me.’
‘You know, the guy you were talking to, the sage, Idriss, he told someone yesterday that they can release a departed spirit by offering food, on a plate, by a river, and leaving it there for the crows and the mice to eat.’
‘How . . . how does that work?’
‘I’m no expert, but apparently the appeased spirits are released, to the next part of the journey.’
‘I’d try anything, at the moment. Whenever I relax and stop thinking, he’s right beside me.’
I’d started the conversation about appeasing departed spirits as a distraction, to raise her own spirits, but the words opened a door in her eyes, showing how afraid she was inside. She was shaking. She hugged herself.
‘Listen, Rannveig, you know, there’s a river you have to cross, on the way back to the main road. I’ll prepare a plate for you, and you can leave it by the river, if you like. Did your boyfriend have a sweet tooth?’
‘He did.’
‘Good. There’s plenty of sweets prepared for tonight. Maybe your boyfriend will be so happy he’ll move on, and leave you alone.’
‘Thank you. I’ll definitely try it.’
‘It’s gonna be okay,’ I said. ‘It gets easier.’
‘Do you meditate?’
‘Only when I’m writing. Why?’
‘I’ve been thinking I should start meditating or something,’ she said absently, then quickly found my eyes again. ‘What do you think of him?’
‘Vinson?’
‘Yes, Stuart. I don’t have a brother or father here to ask about him. What do you think of him?’
I looked at Vinson, stacking the last of the pots and dishes on the shelves, and wiping down the long stainless steel sinks.
‘I like him,’ I said. ‘And I’m absolutely sure he’s nuts about you. If you’re not his soul mate, Rannveig, you should break it to him. Soon. This is it, for him.’
‘Do you ever get depressed? Stuart told me some things about you. About your life. Do you ever get days when you think of suicide?’
‘Never in captivity, and one way or another, most of my life has been spent in captivity.’
‘Seriously. Do you ever have days when you simply want it to end? All of it, at once?’
‘Look, suicide and I are nodding acquaintances. But I’m more your till-the-last-dying-breath kind of guy.’
‘But life can be so shit, sometimes,’ she said, looking at me again.
‘It’s all good, even the bad stuff. It’s all blood, flowing through the heart, and wonderful minutes, of wonderful things. I’m a writer. I have to believe in the power of love. Suicide isn’t an option.’
‘Not for you.’
‘And not for you. If you’re thinking about it, you can also put some thought into the fact that you don’t have the right to take your own life. Nobody does.’
‘Why not?’ Rannveig like the runway asked, her eyes wide, innocent of the cruel, broken question she’d just asked.
‘Think of it this way, Rannveig, does a deranged person have the right to kill a stranger?’
‘No.’
‘No. And when suicide is in your head, you’re the deranged person, and you’re also the stranger, in danger of the harm you might do to yourself. No matter how bad things get, you don’t have the right to kill the stranger that you might become, for a while, in your own life. The rest of your life would tell you, at that point, it’s not an option.’
‘But you don’t get the blues, ever?’ she asked.
She was so earnest that I wanted to put my arm around her.
‘Of course. Everybody does.
But you’re young, and your life is so rich. It’s a hoard of minutes. We don’t have the right to destroy them, or even waste them, as I’m doing. We only have the right to experience them. So, get that crap out of your head. Not an option, okay? And don’t stress. It’ll pass. Vinson’s a good guy. He’ll wait as long as it takes for you to make up your mind, and get your feelings right, whichever way they fall. Everything will pass. Get up and fight.’
‘You’re right, I know, but sometimes the cloud takes a long time to clear the sun.’
‘You’re a very nice, very serious girl, who went through the same burning door that I did. It knocked you around, like it did me. You’re doing fine. You’re doing great. Look at me. I was running around town getting kicked by the cops. You’re so much healthier than when I saw you last time. Talk to Idriss before you leave. He’s pretty cool.’
‘You are a criminal,’ she said flatly.
It was a statement.
‘Ah . . . sure.’
‘Can a woman who is not a criminal, love a criminal? Have you seen this?’
I had, but not often.
‘Ah . . . sure.’
She looked doubtful, but I didn’t want to convince her.
‘You’re gonna have to talk to Vinson, about crime and punishment,’ I said. ‘It’s none of my business, how another man makes his money on the street.’
‘Do you know that Stuart killed someone?’
‘You know,’ I said, looking up at the small groups of people talking and doing chores on the mesa, ‘if we’re gonna talk about Vinson, we should invite Vinson.’
‘Not now,’ she said softly. ‘Not yet.’
I stood, and she stood with me.
‘Do you wish,’ she said falteringly, ‘do you constantly wish that you had done something else?’
‘It’s just regret,’ I said.
‘Regret,’ she repeated absently.
‘You know how they have proof of life, in a kidnapping?’
‘Not really.’
‘When someone’s kidnapped, the negotiator wants proof that the kidnapped person is still alive. A phone call, or film. Proof of life.’
‘Okay.’
‘Regret is just proof of soul, Rannveig. If you didn’t feel it, you wouldn’t be the nice person you are, and Vinson wouldn’t be deranged about you. It’s a good thing. And it’s a better thing when it fades, which it will, soon enough.’
We walked back toward the centre of the mesa. Vinson joined us, a smile like an empty beach on his face.
‘I’m going to talk to Idriss now, Stuart,’ Rannveig said, walking past him. ‘Please collect me after twenty minutes.’
‘Okay, babe,’ he said, grinning after her, his eyes following her like puppies.
‘What brings you to the mountain, Vinson?’
‘It was Rannveig’s idea. She was talking to Karla. That Karla’s something, isn’t she? I don’t understand half of what she says.’
‘You’re doin’ okay with half. She’s the quickest draw I ever saw.’
‘How did you meet her?’
‘She saved my life,’ I said. ‘Listen, they’ve just started the main fire. We can sit there, while Rannveig talks to Idriss. Sound like a plan?’
‘You bet.’
Most of the students on the mountain were involved in cooking, or preparing devotional idols for prayers. I asked one of them to prepare the plate of sweets for Rannveig’s persevering ghost, and to leave it with Silvano.
There was no-one sitting by the fire. Vinson and I sat on box crates, looking through the flames at the flame of Vinson’s heart, twenty metres away with Idriss, and beyond sound.
‘You know, Lin,’ he said, turning to me, ‘I wanted to come, anyway. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Lisa was a fine girl.’
‘Thanks, Vinson. You were at the service Karla organised. This is the first chance I’ve had to tell you, I appreciate it.’
‘It was nothing. We were honoured to attend, man.’
‘How’s Rannveig doing?’
‘Well,’ he said, scratching at his short beard, and stretching his mouth into a struggle with words.
He sighed, and let his hands fall to his thighs.
‘She’s hurt. She’s really hurt. I think, sometimes, that maybe I should get some professional help, a grief counsellor, but then, like, I always come back to the fact that nobody will ever care about her as much as I do.’
‘Except for Rannveig herself.’
‘Yeah, of course, kinda, when she’s better.’
‘Now, actually.’
‘But, like, she’s not a hundred per cent yet, man.’
‘She has to be her own principal caregiver, Vinson, just like you are for Vinson, see? Cut her as much slack as she needs. Let her explore.’
‘Explore?’
‘Whatever she wants to do, or try, support her in it. Just give her time, and space. If she’s yours, sooner or later she’ll come to know it.’
Advice, from a man who wasn’t with the only woman he ever loved, because he couldn’t reach out from a shadow of the lost. Who the hell was I to give advice?
‘Who the hell am I to give advice, man?’ I said. ‘Do your best, Vinson. We mess up. We all mess up. We’ll probably never stop messing up. But if we just keep doing our best, sooner or later it’s gotta be good enough for somebody. Am I right?’
‘Amen to that, brother!’ he said, slapping hands with me. ‘You know, I saw Concannon the other day. I was in Null Bazaar, visiting one of my dealers. He came in with a few guys. He was walking with a stick. It’s black, with a silver skull for a knob. Pretty cool, although I wouldn’t mind betting he’s got a sword in it.’
‘No doubt. Did he say where he was staying?’
‘No. But I heard a rumour he’s got a place way out, in Khar. But it’s only a rumour. There’s a lotta rumours floating around about that guy. He asked about you.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Where’s the Australian convict?’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I said, Is that a trick question? Lucky for me, he’s got a sense of humour. I got outta there pronto, man. That guy was okay, when I met him, kinda, but now, like, a whole city isn’t far enough away.’
‘Don’t stress about Concannon. There’s a line ahead of you there.’
Idriss and Rannveig stood up. We walked around the fire to join them. Silvano was a step behind, the rifle on his shoulder.
‘You’re sure you won’t stay the night?’ Idriss asked her, holding her hands in his.
‘Thank you, sir, no. Stuart’s maid has a bad cough, and I want to be sure she is okay. She has been so kind to me, and there is no-one at home with her until we return.’
‘Very well, please give her our blessings. And come again, whenever you wish.’
She knelt to touch the earth before the teacher’s feet. Vinson shook hands amiably.
‘Thank you for your hospitality, sir,’ he said.
‘You are most welcome,’ Idriss said.
Silvano drew two young men to his side.
‘These two men are walking down now by the safer path,’ he said. ‘They will guide you, one torch in front, and one torch behind.’
‘They’ve got the plate of food for the sweet tooth spirit,’ I told her. ‘It’s wrapped in red cloth. They’ll give it to you at the base, and tell your driver where to stop. You’ll find the riverbank by torchlight.’
‘Thank you,’ she said dreamily. ‘Thank you for everything.’
They said their farewells, and walked into the darkness beyond the fire.
And I dreamed of them, that night, and a few times in the week that followed. And Didier visited my dreams, reminding me of the priorities. And Abdullah, the shadow-rider, visited dreams that raced over rooft
ops. And Lisa, calling to me in echoes of sorrow and remorse, hers and mine.
The world below the mountain was changing, of course, as everything does, but I couldn’t connect to it, except in those dreams. I wasn’t just physically separated from the life I’d made my own, and the people who’d become my society of friends: the mountain was my heart’s retreat from that world, and it faded in that cleaner, clearer air, only forcing its way back through visitors and dreams.
They were hard dreams. They woke me, most nights and mornings, before the sun and songbirds could ease me from sleep. And the dream-words that woke me that night were Rannveig’s, asking me about regret.
I sat up, listening to night sounds in the forest. A figure dressed in a robe as white as the stones beneath his feet walked across the courtyard of the mesa.
It was Idriss, carrying his long staff. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, where a break in the tree line gave a view of the city’s lights on the horizon.
He stood there for a while, appeasing spirits of his own, perhaps, or walking his own tightrope between attrition and contrition. Then he walked back to his cave slowly, his face drawn in sadness, and his steps quiet on the shifting stones.
Regret is a ghost of love. Regret is a nicer self that we send into the past from time to time, even though we know it’s too late to change what we said, or did. We do it because it’s human: a thing of our kind. We do it because we care, drawn by threads of shame that only fray and wither in the sea of regret.
Along the way regret, even more than love, teaches us that harm creates harm, and compassion creates compassion. And having done its work, regret fades to the nothing that all things become.
I lay back, wondering if Rannveig had placed the food beside the river on her way home from the mountain, and if the spirit she was resurrecting with remorse was free to leave her, in peace.
Chapter Forty-Four
I saw many visitors sweat their way into the mountain camp, and glow like stones in clear water when they strolled out again. The teacher was always gentle and serene. Nothing dislodged his benign smile. Nothing interrupted his trance of patient empathy. Until, that is, he was with Silvano and me, playing cards behind the shower screen.
The Mountain Shadow Page 52