Halien, Part 3

I really did know this girl! Factual liberties are at a minimum!


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
Yet it diminished and somehow I felt it was ok to remove my hand. She sniffled,
wiped her still-hidden eyes and nose with a handkerchief she pulled from a sweatshirt pocket, and faced me again. “Thanks, Chuck. Your suffering is a light, you know. A good light.”
“My suffering?” And then it hit me. Gone was the world’s music. The birds of dusk, the laughter of drunks inside, the drone of vehicles. “Haley?”
“Sh,” she said, pressing a finger to pursed lips. “Can you feel it, Chuck? We’re strangers here.”
I chugged my beer. My fascination was swelling too much. I needed to douse it or burst. “We’re getting to know each other.”
“This nightmare can’t continue. Do you believe in luck, Chuck.” I gulped the last of the beer and stared. Haley leaned across the table and covered my hands with hers. Her touch was warm and soothing. Her indigo eyes were on my soul and I needed them there. My heartbeat was in my ears, unlabored and young, and I felt as though a cross had been lifted from my back, and that all burdens I’d hitherto carried were gone forever like a nightmare receding and speeding away. My guts felt hot and alive, and her eyes simultaneously mended each part of me the world had scarred. Neutral angel, popped
into my head. Calm and midpointed, beyond the duality game of good and evil, light and dark. Flowers and stars filled my vision, and then I realized my eyes were closed.
“Beneath the story of our sadness is nothing,” she said. Music. Peace. Inner sunshine. As if she plucked a tune from an angel hymnal and set it to sing inside my heart. “And nothing, Chuck, is release from suffering. Know this, know this.” And I forgave myself for all transgressions past and opened my eyes.
“Haley?” My feet felt my shoes again.
“They’re back,” she said.
My cheeks hurt from smiling. Birds, laughter, cars. All back and never again to be taken for granted. “Haley, how did you.”
“Don’t be silly, Chuck. You did it.”
“But.” She squeezed my hands and I could speak no more. I shuddered with ecstasy. The night birds were singing inside of me and tickling my brain meat with fluttering silky wings. Again the thought, shimmering in letters of smoky indigo. Was I drugged?
“Chuck, will you do me a little favor?”
And the thought was replaced by roses and stars. “Yes, honey.”
“You’re a sweet boy.” She paused, her indigo eyes aglow and casting shadows on the tabletop. “There’s this scavenger hunt for my psychology class. Weird, I know.” Night birds sang on the wall ledge. Bowie sang, And here, am I floating in a tin can . . .
“You go to college?” I whispered.
“My professor’s handing out lists tomorrow. She says we can pick a friend to help
out.” Planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing I can . . .
“I do, I mean yes, I can help you with that,” I heard myself say like an echo from without. “I get off work at five.”
“You’re my savior, Chuck. See you here at six.” This is ground control to major Tom. You’ve really made the grade . . .
I dug in my bag for paper and pen. “Maybe we should exchange.”
“No need. See you tomorrow, Chuck. Wish us luck.” And may God’s love be with you . . . She kissed my cheek and left. I stayed in the beer garden for another hour, smoking and drinking amid a handful of stars, twinkling through a heavy gauze of light pollution. Who the hell was Haley to make an impact on me?
After shitty sleep I somehow maintained the mask of sanity necessary to go through the motions of the next work day. It was hard to eat. My stomach was a writhing snake pit of longing. I knew I lacked discernment when it came to the women in my life. All had been cut from the same crazy mold. Beautiful, demanding, predictable, doomed. I sliced the latest perfectly crafted sandwich in half and smiled. But not Haley. At least she lacked the first three qualities; I had insufficient information to judge the doom factor. At five o’clock I headed home to change. The streets were sun-yellowed and bustling with joy-shouts after a long wintry gloom of suicide hotlines ringing off the hooks and the splashes of lost souls who had leaped from the bridges spanning the Willamette. That was past. This was the season of life. The bones of trees budding with spring’s green breathed in and out an ecstasy of birds. I pumped hot-blooded limbs home and quickly threw on jeans and an old sweatshirt. This was no date so I didn’t bother with
extra grooming. This had the feel of a spiritual encounter. I arrived at the Bullpen ten minutes early and waited.
Hands over my eyes. Her voice from warm darkness. “Guess who?”
“A visitant from a realm of secret knowledge?” Hands came off and those indigo eyes we’re all I saw.
“Nice day, isn’t it, Chuck?”
Today I didn‘t have to lie. “Perfect for a scavenger hunt.”
She took a sip from my beer. “Turns out it’ll be easier than I thought, Chuck. We can get everything we need at my house. Is that ok?” I nodded and she finished the beer. Outside, she pointed to the southern hills. “It’s just a little hike.”