Meeting Destiny (17 page)

He closed his eyes briefly as if imagining my proposal. He took my hand in his, “Wow, that’s a lot better idea than I had.” I sensed some hesitation and he followed with, “I was thinking ski ball at an arcade. I haven’t been in my apartment in a few months, and I think it would be better to make sure it is in decent shape before you come over.”

There it was, rejection. Max was the only person in my life I had propositioned, and he turned me down cold. I had a couple choices: I could take the rejection in stride and chalk it up to first date nerves, or I could try to convince him that some alone time would be worth his while. Realistically, being a twenty-two year old virgin is embarrassing, but the way I felt this second - I could lose that embarrassing trait in no time.

I decided to try one more time. I moved my hand to his mid-thigh and gave a gentle squeeze. I leaned into his ear and in my most sultry voice, “I would kick your ass at ski ball. You’re better off taking me back to your place.” I gave his thigh a little longer grip. The truck veered a little over the white line, but Max quickly corrected. I left my hand lightly on his thigh and could see it was his turn to blush; I could feel his pulse racing.

I was severely disappointed when he pulled into a parking lot outside a mall instead of the parking lot outside his apartment complex. Not knowing why he didn’t take me up on my offer didn’t bother me nearly as much as simply being rejected. I knew he liked me, I knew I turned him on, heck I even knew that we were destined to be together. I had no clue why he wanted to go to an arcade. But avoiding further rejection, I went along and sure enough we did play ski ball.

After ten dollars worth of ski ball, we traded in our tickets for useless trinkets, bouncy balls that light up when bounced and a couple plastic army men with parachutes. I wasn’t kidding. I really am a ski ball master. We played air hockey, and again I beat him. I asked if he wanted to try foosball, and he laughed, “Only, if I’m on your team.” We found a couple twelve year olds who wanted to play, and we smoked them. All-in-all the arcade was another great idea. As we exited the mall, I considered re-offering my earlier idea of heading back to his place, but I knew being rejected again would probably scar me for life.

Max drove me back to my parents’ house, saying little on the drive. We pulled up outside their house, and he shut the truck off but made no move to get out. Max looked a little uncomfortable. He finally remarked, “I’d like to see you tomorrow if that’s okay?”

I could feel the blood rushing through me. I told him, “I’ve got plans in the morning with Rachael. Did you want to get together in the afternoon?”

“
Sure, I’ve got to go into work tonight, drop off some papers and check my work schedule.” I looked at my watch. It was already after nine p.m. Maybe that was why he didn’t want me to come over? “I don’t know if I’ll have to work tomorrow or not - if I do, my shift starts at 7 p.m. Call whenever you want to get together.”

Max opened his door, “Hold on, let me help you down. Gretchen will slash my tires if you screw up your leg trying to climb out of my truck.”

As Max walked around, I glanced at Seth’s house and saw him watching out a window. Max opened my door and helped me down. We had a decent good night kiss, nothing earth shattering, but that same electric shock from earlier still coursed through me.

We said our good nights, and I glanced over to Seth’s house. He was no longer watching from inside the house, his front door was opening. How much had he seen? This had the potential to turn ugly.

I walked up my sidewalk, deliberately ignoring the figure standing on Seth’s front porch. Although I didn’t actually see him, I knew he had made his way from his window to the outside in an effort to talk to me. But I made it through my front door before he had a chance to say a word.

I spent the next hour or so reliving the whole day. I had not only met my destiny, I had spent an entire day getting to know him. The shooting range, brunch, shopping, the carriage ride, and finally playing games in an arcade, only one of these had been on my list for first date activities, but I couldn’t remember ever having a better day. I drifted off to sleep early for the first time in ages.

Rachael and I had decided to meet at the mall Sunday morning. I rode the city bus there. I was probably one of the few people who loved mass transit. The quiet allowed me to dissect every aspect of Saturday, and not be burdened with paying attention to traffic or other drivers. Rachael had pumped me for details, but I couldn’t possibly tell her everything on the phone.

As my head swirled with images of yesterday, I told myself everything was perfect. I reveled in the idea that yesterday was just the first of many such days to come. I didn’t know how it could get any better than yesterday. I had learned so much about him.

Max was twenty-three. When I asked him about his ex-girlfriends, I nearly fell off my chair when he shared he had never had a serious girlfriend before. When he met me, he knew Seth had been my only boyfriend. I didn’t wear my virginity on my sleeve like it was some big badge of honor or anything, I just had never been in a situation where I wanted to do anything about it.

It was hard to believe that someone like Max had never been with anyone. That thought stopped me in my tracks, because I had asked him about girlfriends, not sex partners. What little I knew about him told me he wouldn’t make that distinction. I hoped that when we did have sex, that I wouldn’t be a disappointment. I might end up being awful in bed.

“
He won’t be disappointed with you,” a voice came from out of nowhere. My eyes went wide and every muscle in my body tensed - Oh my gosh, I am such an idiot. I didn’t know I was thinking out loud. Who all heard me? I looked from person to person all around me, but no one close was looking at me. Did I just imagine a voice? Who just said that?

“
There are many ways to talk to people, only one of which requires speaking aloud. I thought it better that I talk to you with my mind rather than my voice.” This reply was as clear as any words I have ever heard - but I didn’t
hear
them. It was as if they were reverberating in my head.

I scanned the bus in all directions. There was an overweight man in a suit and tie sitting in the seat across from me. A woman reading the newspaper accompanied by her child was few seats in front of me. Another woman was three seats back, watching me.

“
Yes, hello, Lauren, you can hear me just fine, am I right?”

I turned around to the lady sitting several seats behind me who was watching me, and nodded that yes I could hear her. I overemphasized the nod more to see a reaction than for effect.

I could hear humor in her response, “You really aren’t any good at this, are you? I can hear your thoughts, Lauren, you do not need to look at me.” Her gaze left me, as if something outside her window had caught her attention.

I was not frightened, but definitely taken aback that this woman was communicating telepathically with me. I thought as hard as I could, “Who - are - you?”

A booming response echoed in my head, “Not so loud! You’re going to drown out everything else around here and I’ll miss my stop.”

Surprised by the notion that a loud thought was possible, I replied but not nearly as focused as my last question, “Would it be okay to sit next to you? I feel funny carrying on a conversation without talking.”

“
If it suits you, come on back.” She glanced my way with a slight nod, then continued to focus her attention out the window. To anyone else on the bus, she appeared not to be paying any attention to me at all.

I quickly grabbed my bag and moved to the seat next to the woman, half expecting her to scream or scowl at me when I sat down. She didn’t. She just smiled and patted my hand. Still in my head and not aloud, “We are so proud of you, Lauren. The others thought it could not be done. I told them you could. I told them you didn’t need our help. Look at you. Courage really becomes you, and you found Max so quickly! Good for you.”

Scared stiff at this point because she obviously knew me, questions began flying through my head. Who are you? Who are the others? What did you tell them I could do? How do you know about Max? All these questions were swirling in my head when I finally regained my focus and thought clearly, “Who are...”

She interrupted my thought, “If you ask every question twice we aren’t going to get much of anything done. I already told you, you don’t need to speak out loud, I can hear your thoughts. Who am I? I am Rewsna (she pronounced it Roos-na). I have been watching you for some time, as have the others. I was in Tasty Burger when you achieved courage. I have seen some monumental things this millennia, but a twenty-one year old girl, without any training at all, attaining courage has never been done before. How did you know about the anarchist? How did you know what to do?”

“
The anarchist? Do you mean the robber?” I wasn’t sure I had comprehended what Rewsna had asked.

“
The robber, yes. How did you know what he was going to do?” It was a bit difficult to focus on her questions. My entire life I had learned to read faces, body language, gestures, but Rewsna was giving me no visual cues. Since I came back to sit next to her on the bus, she had not made eye contact with me. She just kept looking out the window as if it were the most normal thing in the world for two strangers to share a seat, when there were at least thirty vacant seats on the bus.

“
I don’t know exactly. When he walked into the restaurant, I saw him.” That wasn’t right, I corrected myself, “I mean, I guess I felt him enter the restaurant. I’m not sure why, but I felt like he was dangerous.”

“
He was, Lauren. Absolutely amazing. No doubt about it, you are amazing.”

“
What’s so amazing about recognizing a robber?” I didn’t understand why she was so excited. I thought my acrobatics over the counter were far more interesting than me noticing a dirt bag walk through the door. I still didn’t know who she was. My imagination had been out of control lately, and for all I knew, I may very well have imagined this conversation, too.

“
Lauren, you recognized an anarchist from fifteen feet away, without speaking to him. You got everyone out of the way, the customers, the other employees, everyone. You gave him a dose of his own medicine, pure fear you shot into him! I never saw an anarchist leave so fast in all my years. I couldn’t have been more thrilled if you would have yelled, ‘
Boo
,’ at him.”

“
Rewsna, what’re you talking about? What’s an anarchist?”

“
Child, you mean to tell me that you found one, singled him out from a room full of people the second he walked in the door, got everyone away from him, and you didn’t have any idea what he was?” Rewsna still didn’t speak out loud, but for the first time since I moved to this seat, she looked at me. She had deep brown eyes, set narrow on her face. Looking at her I could only guess that she was in her fifties. She wore dreadlocks and looked a little like Whoopi Goldberg. Her face was beautiful despite the bewildered expression she was wearing.

“
I’ve read the newspapers and watched the news reports. I’ve heard him referred to as a robber, an assailant, a shooter, a homeless man, but never an anarchist. I’ll have to write that one down.”

“
Did Max not prepare you at all? Don’t tell me that you had no idea what was going on?”

“
Rewsa, can you not talk in circles, because you’re really making me dizzy. I just spent all day with Max yesterday getting to know him. What was he supposed to prepare me for?”

Her eyes narrowed as if she were ready to begin an interrogation. “Lauren, what do you know about Max?”

Not wanting to confide in this stranger about my incredible obsession, all I was comfortable saying was, “Max is the paramedic who kept my heart pumping after I was shot.”

“
Lauren, you ought to know a good deal more than that.” For the first time she spoke aloud, and I could hear the contempt in her voice. Her voice sounded Romanian a little, not so much of an accent that she was difficult to understand, but enough of a European sound that it was obvious she was not local.

“
Okay, from the top, did Max come to you in a dream?”

Rewsa convinced me that I was definitely not imagining this conversation. The idea that we can communicate without a sound is amazing. I wondered who else was able to communicate this way? And if more than just this woman, why hadn’t this been all over the news? I wondered if I could communicate with others this same way?

Annoyance was inserted in her voice, “Focus, Lauren. Did he come to you in a dream or not?”