Tales of Downfall and Rebirth (70 page)

“Chrissie, you don't need to cook for me.”

“I know. I chose to. And I don't mind. You know how much I like to cook.”

“Well I do mind, okay? I do.”

“Just take the food. It's better than that microwave crap you always eat.”

“I'll see you later.” He shut the door in her face.

“I'm leaving it on the doorstep,” she hollered through the door. “Let it spoil if you want, I guess.”

Back in his room, he glanced at the chat room, then turned away, only to spin around and look again.

BellaFeliz:
Is Marc in here?

Marc dove across the room and hit the keyboard, hard.

Marc:
Yep! Hello!

BellaFeliz:
Hello. Nice to see you.

Marc:
Nice to see you, too.

The next line from Angela was in Spanish.

BellaFeliz:
So how are you?

 

Marc switched languages too.

 

Marc:
All right. Just working hard at school.

BellaFeliz:
Are you in university?

Marc:
Yes.

BellaFeliz:
What's your degree in?

Marc:
I'm not sure how to say “computer science” in Spanish.

BellaFeliz:
No, I understand. That's very exciting. So that's why you know how to use e-mail and chat rooms.

Marc:
This is the kind of stuff I'm interested in.

BellaFeliz:
And now you know it works as far away as Chile.

Marc:
Yep, but that's not why I wrote to you.

He winced. That was way too obvious. She'd shy away for sure.

BellaFeliz:
So do you have a girlfriend?

Marc had to reread that one, to make sure that he'd seen it right.

Marc:
No, I don't. Do you have a boyfriend?

BellaFeliz:
No.

Marc:
Oh good, no one to come kick my teeth in for talking to you.

BellaFeliz:
You are funny.

Marc:
I'm really glad you logged in.

BellaFeliz:
Yes?

Marc:
Yes.

BellaFeliz:
Me too. This is fun.

Marc:
You asked if I'd ever be back in Chile for a visit.

BellaFeliz:
Yes?

He took a deep breath, as he knew his answer could put her off.

Marc:
Not for a long time. I can't afford it.

BellaFeliz:
Well, my cousin lives in Utah and I am going to visit her in a couple of weeks. Is Provo close to where you are?

He had to wipe his eyes and read that again. She was coming here? To the United States? He'd be able to see her?

Marc:
Not too far!

BellaFeliz:
Maybe I can visit you?

Marc:
Or I can come see you.

He ignored the pointed remarks of other people in the chat room who didn't like the unending stream of Spanish. She filled him in on the details of her trip. She'd be in Utah for a month to help her cousin with newborn twins.

That was plenty of time to really get to know each other.

BellaFeliz:
Okay, it's late. I will talk to you in here some other time?

Marc:
Yes, see you later.

BellaFeliz:
Good night.

A knock on his door five minutes later startled him. He'd been reading and rereading the chat room conversation until he'd put himself in a trance.

“Dude,” said Jake's voice, “phone. It's your mother.”

Marc groaned as he got up from his desk and accepted the phone from his roommate's hand. “Hi—”

“Marc, what's going on? Why don't you even talk to Chrissie when she does something nice like make you dinner?”

“Did she call you, Mom?”

“No, her mother did. She called home. That is a sweet girl, Marc, and she waited for you through your whole mission. Do you know how rare that is?”

“Listen, I'm sorry, but I'm dating someone else now.”

“Not the girl on the Internet, from your mission?”

“I gotta go.” He hung up fast.

Before he turned in for the night, he did remember to retrieve the food Chrissie had left him off the doorstep. She was an excellent cook, but she spent so much time at it and was the only person Marc knew who actually used the wheat-grinder attachment on her KitchenAid.

*   *   *

Angela was online when Marc got back to his apartment after class the next day and he talked to her for an hour, during which she sent him three pictures of herself, looking gorgeous, toned, and tanned. She really was out of his league, but while he might not have the looks of her usual suitors, he bet he had many times the income potential.

That night he shaved off his scruff and even tried to work out a little. Jake, passing through, gave him an indulgent smirk.

*   *   *

Two days later, as he took his time to get to class, he noted the mountains towering over the campus and the pioneer-built city of Salt Lake spread across the Wasatch Front below. How had he never noticed how beautiful it was? He could even make out the temple, jutting up from its spot on Temple Square.

Someone bumped shoulders with him, knocking his books out of his hand, and when he turned to see who it was, Rick Gardner, a guy on the football team, was glaring back over a well-muscled shoulder. He wasn't from Bend, but rather a little town outside of Bend. He'd gone to the next high school over, but now apparently he was inserting himself into the Bend High School pecking order to help remind Marc of the fact that he was at the bottom.

Marc brushed it off. If a bunch of Idaho hicks had it in for him, he didn't care. They would matter less and less as his life went on.

BellaFeliz:
Do you miss Chilean food?

Marc:
Oh yeah. There's a guy from Chile in my class, and we complain about how much we miss it all the time.

BellaFeliz:
I'll have to cook for you, then.

Marc:
And I'll have to take you to some American restaurants.

BellaFeliz:
To eat hamburgers?

Marc:
Yeah, if you want. Or I need to take you someplace to get a good milkshake. Utah has some of the best milkshakes in the world.

BellaFeliz:
Sounds like fun. So I arrive in ten days at 3 p.m.

Marc:
Do you want me to pick you up?

BellaFeliz:
No, I don't want to bother you.

Marc:
No, let me pick you up. That way your cousin's husband doesn't need to take time off work. And it'd save your cousin from having to drive.

BellaFeliz:
You're sure?

Marc:
Positive.

BellaFeliz:
Okay, I will e-mail my cousin.

BellaFeliz:
I made a mistake today, I think.

Marc:
What's that?

BellaFeliz:
I showed your picture to my friend, Gertrudes, and when she asked who you were, I said you were a guy I'm seeing.

Marc sat back from his desk, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

Marc:
Is it a mistake?

BellaFeliz:
Do you think it is?

Marc:
I don't mind if it's not.

BellaFeliz:
Really?

Marc:
Unless you don't want to go on a date when you're out here.

BellaFeliz:
No, I do.

Marc pumped his fist in the air. “Yesss!”

He didn't get to bed that night until two a.m. Even after Angela signed off, he was aglow, unable to settle down, let alone go to sleep.

Computers and the Internet were the best inventions ever.

*   *   *

More than a week later, someone rang his doorbell at eleven at night, which didn't cause him to look up from his computer and his chat with Angela, until Jake knocked on his door. “It's your girl,” he said.

Marc:
Be right back.

BellaFeliz:
Okay.

He found Chrissie seated on the couch, her eyes red and her cheeks raw from tears. “What is it?” he asked.

“Um . . . okay, so, I was praying and . . . something happened. Someone came.”

“Who came?”

“An angel. With a sword.”

“Who said what? You and I are meant to be together forever?”

She burst into fresh tears. “No, and I'm not joking. It's what I saw.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because up until recently, you were my best friend. Now it's like you don't care about me at all.”

“Chrissie, we aren't together anymore.”

“Does this look like a romantic visit to you? Have I said one thing about us getting back together? You and I used to talk.”

“Listen, I'm sorry. It's just that you and I have drifted apart.”

“You've drifted. I'm still the same person I always was. And I can take a hint.” She got to her feet, crossed over to the front door, and let herself out.

*   *   *

The next morning, Chrissie was back to walk with him to class. He scowled at her but she had her jaw set in such a way that he knew there was no point arguing. Best to let her do her pathetic, clingy thing.

Only, she didn't grasp his arm and beg him for a date. She walked beside him with her bag slung over her shoulder and said, “The world as we know it is about to change.”

“That your revelation?” Marc sneered.

“Yeah.” She gave him a sidelong look. “I don't normally go around telling people the answers to my prayers, but—”

“Excuse me?” snapped Marc. “You've been telling me for months that we're meant to be together.”

“I think you're exaggerating there.”

“Oh, right.”

“I'm over you and I'm over us. Now will you listen to me? Did you even pray about what I told you last night?”

He shook his head and walked faster. She made no effort to catch up.

BellaFeliz:
When I arrive in the USA, are you going to take me for a milkshake right away?

Marc:
Yeah, if your cousin can spare you for a little while.

BellaFeliz:
I'll have to dress nice on the plane, then.

Marc:
Nah, it's casual.

A sudden kick to the head, pain like he'd never felt before—and then gone . . . The screen and all the lights went dark.
Dangit.
Marc fumbled along the wall for his emergency flashlight, pulled it from the plug, and switched it on.

It didn't work.

“Marc?” Jake yelled from the other room. “My CD player isn't working.”

“It's a power outage,” he yelled back.

“My CD player runs on batteries. It wasn't plugged in.”

Marc's grip on the handle of his flashlight tightened. “Okay, that is completely weird.”

Outside came the sound like boulders rolling downhill. “An airplane just crashed into campus!” a hysterical voice yelled.

“People's cars aren't working!” yelled another.

Then so many voices began to shout that it became impossible to tell one from another. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, as the voices faded into the distance.

Marc fumbled in his desk for a box of matches and one of his safety candles. That worked. He hoisted the candle above his head, but the light was too weak to reveal much. He shouldered open his door and the light fell on Jake's face, shining with sweat.

“What's going on?”

“It's a really bad power outage?” guessed Marc.

“That stops cars? And their headlights. Look out the window. It's pitch-black.”

Marc obeyed, going to open the blinds of the window in their living room. He thought he'd seen darkness before, but this was something else. It was as if the very air had gone opaque. A quick gaze upward reassured him that at least the stars still shone, but even they seemed more distant and tiny than usual.

“Come on,” said Jake. “Let's try my car.”

When he and Jake emerged in the hall, the scene was relatively sane. People stood with their doors open, chatting, candles held aloft as if at a rock concert during a slow song.

Marc nodded a greeting to anyone who called out to him as he and Jake made their way down the candlelit gauntlet to the stairs—though Marc did hit the button for the elevator on the way past, just to be sure.

The carpark had more groups of people standing in small clusters. Someone had built a campfire on the asphalt, which lit up the rows of cars in its bronze light.

“Hey, it's no good,” someone called out when Jake and Marc stopped at the car. “They're all not working.”

“I'm just gonna try,” Jake hollered back.

He tried to unlock his car with his key fob, but it didn't even chirp, so he inserted the key in the lock and popped it open that way.

Marc climbed into shotgun, still holding the candle in one hand. It was fat enough that the wax didn't drip, but rather formed a pool in the center.

When Jake turned the key in the ignition, there was nothing, not even the sound of the starter.

He and Marc exchanged a look. A second attempt had the same result. They might as well have jabbed the key into the ground and turned it. The result would have been the same.

“We'll, I'm gonna start walking,” said Jake. “Head down into the city. You coming?”

“Nah, I'm gonna wait it out here.”

Jake shook his head. “Suit yourself.”

Marc got a second candle out of his pocket and lit it for his roommate. The two said good-bye as Jake started off toward the exit and Marc headed back upstairs. One backward glance at Jake's retreating figure made Marc wonder if that would be the last time they ever saw each other, then he pushed that morbid thought to the side.