Are We There Yet? (11 page)

Murano is an island known throughout the world for its glass. Danny is surprised to find that most of its buildings are stone. With jet-lag weariness, he allows himself to be led to kilns and hammerings. He admires without touching. He is amazed when color appears from the wand of the glassblower. He expects to find the glass clear, but instead discovers it rimmed with red or blue.

By the third stop, Danny is ready to leave. He feels very much like his reflection—worn out and only vaguely present. Elijah is kept awake by his wonder. Danny subsides.

“A nap,” he says. But Elijah isn't listening. He is looking around, as if for someone else.

“Who are you looking for?” Danny asks.

“No one,” Elijah replies, focusing now.

Yeah, right
, Danny thinks. He figures his brother is looking for some old lady he helped to cross the street. Or
maybe that girl from the plane who wouldn't shut up about herself.

“Do you want to go back for a quick nap before we leave?” Danny asks, even though it's only eleven.

Elijah nods. He wants to go back.

But he doesn't have any intention of napping.

The laws of gravity vary from city to city. In Venice, the laws state that no matter where you want to go, you will always be drawn back to St. Mark's Square. Even though you know it will be immensely crowded, and even though you have nothing in particular to do there, you will still feel yourself drawn.

Elijah diverges from Danny at the gates of the hotel and finds himself gravitating. He moves as if he knows the place. It is a spiritual familiarity.

Past the coffee bars and through the crowds of pigeons, Elijah heads for the basilica. It is busy, as it always is. There are numerous signs prohibiting photography. Some tourists rankle at this and fail to put their cameras away. Others would never imagine taking a photograph in such a place. They stand solemnly before the statues and say prayers of thanks or pain.

Elijah pays his admission and walks into the entryway. Immediately he is amazed by the floors. Marble of every color— triangles and squares dancing in greater shapes. As others rush past, Elijah kneels down. He runs his hand over the marble. Other people stop to watch him, and it is only then that they too see the floors. Elijah is overwhelmed by the sheer fact of all the people who have walked over this very spot. As he watches Nikes and loafers glide past, he tries to fathom the feet of centuries ago. A person could stay in this same place his whole life and meet millions of people from all over the world. But instead, everyone moves on, and meets no one.

From the floor, Elijah looks to the ceiling—all gold tile and mural, epic scenes and godly interventions. The ceilings speak a
different language from the floors. Both are art, but the ceilings are story while the floors are mathematic. People walk between, every single one of them a foreigner.

Elijah stands back up and re-enters the flow. He veers toward the corners, delicate shrines that counterbalance the immensity of the building. He stops in front of a saint he doesn't know. Candles flicker at her feet. Elijah loves the ceremony of candles—his mother waving her hands over the flames on Shabbat, or the two memorial candles that beacon through the house on Yom Kippur. This is, of course, a different context. Yet Elijah is tempted to light a candle, just the same. He puts three thousand lire in the box and pulls a candle from its stand.

He'll light one for Cal. She's Christian, so that must be legal.

He wonders what she'd wish for. He wonders what she'd want to tell the saint.

He touches the wick against another candle. He wonders if its wish transfers with the flame.

The wax drips onto his hand. An old woman shuffles up and takes a candle for herself.

Cal. Cal. Cal.

“Happiness,” Elijah whispers. Then he places the candle at the altar. The wax cools on his hand as he pulls away.

The old woman lights her candle, and a smile flickers across her face. Elijah thinks of birthdays, and wonders why birthday wishes aren't made when the candles are lit. If he could have his way, candles would never be blown out.

After a few minutes of candle staring, he drops some extra coins into the candle box. Not for the candle, but for all candles. No payback necessary.

Back at the hotel, Danny realizes too late that it's too early to take a nap. He wrestles across his bed and tries to contort himself into sleepfulness, but it's no use. After a half hour of impatient waking, Danny shifts to the side of the bed and picks up the phone. It takes a showdown with a contentious operator (who seemingly wouldn't know an AT&T calling card if it rode a gondola up to her desk) for Danny to place a call to his voice mail. There are nine new messages, which makes Danny happy, even as he mentally chastises all the people who have left him messages when his outgoing message clearly states that he is away.

‪4 to save, ‪6 to delete, ‪1 to respond.
These dialing commands have become an essential part of Danny's being, his voice-mail mantra. Even after a live phone conversation, Danny finds himself hitting
‪6
to erase what he's just heard. Now he plows through the messages with corporate efficiency. He is happy to hear that there aren't any emergencies, and he is happy to hear that not much else is happening, either. Message six is from Cody in Legal, who informs Danny that one of his catchphrases has just been registered for trademarking. Danny smiles at that and forwards the message to Allison. He tells her he loves to be working in a country where the phrase “All the Oil You Need” can be owned.

After listening through the messages (sometimes twice), Danny faces a different set of options
. ‪1 to record a message, ‪8 to change a message, ‪3 to listen to saved messages.
Danny
‪1s
his work-friend John, just to say hey. Then he
‪1s
Allison to tell her all is well and that he hopes work isn't too chaotic with him gone. As soon as he's hit the # key to end, he realizes he has
something more to say, so he
‪1s
her again and tells her he hopes she's not working too too late. Then he phones his assistant and says the same thing. He thinks about
‪1ing
Gladner or Gladner to thank them for the time off. But even he sees how ridiculous this would sound, especially since they've sent him away to think of things other than work.

Impulsively—reluctant to hang up quite yet—Danny hits
‪3
. Then he lies back on the bed and closes his eyes.

You have eight old messages
, the voice-mail femail says.
Your first message is one year, five months, and twelve days old.

Cue: The
Twilight Zone
theme. Starting with a click of the tape recorder, then growing louder.

“Yes, folks, we've entered a world of bright lights and big cities …a world of wine, women, and thongs … a world where debutantes still roam the SoHo plains in search of the perfect two-hundred-dollar T-shirt bargain. Yes, we have entered … the Danny Zone! Do-do-do-do Do-do-do-do. My name is Enigo Montoya, but you can call me Will for short. I will soon be entering the Danny Zone and need to arrange the peculiars. So PLEASE give a call back at 415-66—hell, you can use your ESP to complete the number. I eagerly await your call. If you don't call back in fifteen seconds, I will self-destruct. Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen …”

One year, five months, and twelve days old. Which would make it one year, five months, and two days since he last saw Will, his best friend in the whole wide world—until the whole wide world intervened. He had flown in five days after the message, while Danny was caught in a tempest of work.

“Can you make time?” Will had asked.

“I can't make time,” Danny had responded,“but if you know someone who does make time, I'd be more than happy to buy a lot of it from him.”

Before the call, it had been another year since they'd seen each other. In that year, Danny had stayed in the same place and had progressed in the same job. Will had lived in Spain, Nebraska, and California.He'd been a playwright, a computer consultant, and a door-to-door salesman. He had a million stories to tell. Danny only had one or two. He didn't want to bore Will with the details of his work, and at the same time he resented the way such details became boring. Will wanted to stay up late and go to clubs where the barmaids were playfully cruel. He wanted to hit galleries and pawnshops and diners where a grilled cheese still cost two dollars and the tomato came free. Danny didn't know such places. After two days, he felt he didn't know the city at all.

“What have you been
doing?
” Will asked with mock exasperation.

And the only answer Danny could think of was,
Living my life.

Will wanted Danny to cut work. Danny felt he couldn't. Will wanted Danny to get a tattoo. Danny wouldn't.

They parted on good terms, but it felt like parting, and it felt like terms. Danny hadn't meant to lose touch with Will— but all it took was one lost change-of-address card and the fact that Will refused to have e-mail. Danny heard word through friends of friends—Will was now a potter in Oregon—but he knew it wasn't enough to send word back. After all, Will knew where Danny was. It wasn't like he'd moved.

Please press ‪4 to save, ‪6 to delete, or ‪7-3 to listen to this message again
, the voice-mail femail insists. Danny hits
‪4
.

‪1
—to respond—is only an option for internal calls.

While Danny dials transatlantic, Elijah walks to the top of the basilica. Not to the dome, but to the balcony. Touched fullforce by the sun, he watches over the square, tourists moving like rivulets of water, birds shifting like newsprint fingerprints. A string band concertos to the left, while a trumpeter blasts from the right. Strangely, the two sounds complement rather than conflict.

The bell tower begins to ring. The time is marked.

Elijah breathes. He breathes deeply and tries to pull his sight into his breath, and his hearing into his breath, and his feeling into his breath.

He knows this will be his goodbye to Venice. The rest will be walking and packing and checking out. This is the height. This is the time for thanks.

He thinks of Julia, the stranger, and says goodbye to her as well.

He thinks of Julia, and she appears.

She doesn't see him at first. She steps out onto the balcony and walks to the edge. She leans against the railing and dangles her head over. She is smiling at the square, like a child tummydown on a swing, pretending to fly.

Elijah knows he is not part of this picture. He knows he is seeing more of her than he would be brave enough to give of himself.

Wonder lights her face. She stands up straight again and shakes her head in a barely perceptible motion. She is watching sunset, even though the sun is still high in the sky.

Then, with another shake of her head, she moves a step back. Her smile is now self-aware. She knows she is a bit loony in her wonder, but she doesn't really mind.

Elijah walks over before he can think about it. He walks over because what he feels is strange enough to be a dream, and in dreams ordinary rules do not apply.