Unfinished Symphony (2 page)

"Yes, rebirth, for I was dead to so much before my.. . my death," he said. "I was like most people, blind and deaf, confused by the clatter and noise, chasing material things, living on the lowest level and never hearing the song."
"The song?"
"The spiritual song, the voice deep within us all, the voice that links us to each other, to every living and even non-living thing. Even the man who shot me is part of this overall spiritual essence, and in that sense, we're part of each other, forever."
"Did they catch him?"
"No, but that doesn't matter. He shot himself when he shot me. We're eternally tied together by that act."
"You mean you could forgive him for it?" I asked, astounded.
"Of course. There's nothing to forgive. The negative energy that was in him is what must be driven away. He was captured, a prisoner of that, just as I was captured and for a while made prisoner by the bullet that shattered my spine."
"How can you be so positive?" I asked with curious astonishment.
"I was lying on my hospital bed, feeling terribly sorry for myself, cataloguing all the things I would no longer be able to do, regretting how much I was dependent on other people, in truth, wishing I would die," he explained, "when suddenly Holly stopped at my bed accompanied by her guru, an elderly man from India who had eyes like crystals themselves. It was part of their charity work to visit the infirm and give sick people hope. Right from the start, I felt something about him, some inner strength that he was able to share with me, instill in me. He taught me how to meditate and opened the doors to my new self. I dedicated my first poem to him. He has since gone back to India. That's a picture of him in the shop.
"After that Holly came to me and offered me a job in her shop and I agreed. I've been here ever since.
"Let's see," he said, flipping the pages. "Ah, yes. This was when I first began to write poems. I wasn't working here long. I had read some poetry in this Village newspaper and thought I would like to try putting my thoughts down, too. Want to hear it?"
"Very much, please."
He stared at the pages for a long, silent moment and then in a very soft, low voice, read.
"I had come to the end of daylight and faced the doorway of darkness. But when I touched my face,
I realized my eyes were closed and my skin was cold.
All that I thought I loved and needed was gone and I was naked, shivering in misery. They were measuring me for a coffin. Suddenly, I heard a voice calling from within myself
I turned my eyes around to look back, to look down, to look deep and I saw a single candle.
It drew me closer until I could reach out and put my fingers in the flame.
Slowly, meticulously, I burned away my dead body and when it was gone, I was no longer naked."
He looked up slowly.
"It's beautiful," I said, "but I'm not sure I understand."
"I had to crawl out of my old, now crippled body, burn it away because it literally imprisoned me. Once I found the inner light, true spirituality, I was able to go beyond the physical body and reach a higher place. Someday, you will too. Everything you love and think you need looks lost. You're on a search because you feel naked, without meaning or hope; but you'll see that you have everything you need inside yourself and you didn't have to take a single step in any direction."
I said nothing. We gazed at each other in the silence and then he smiled.
"You've got that look in your eyes again. You think I'm a kook again."
"No," I said, laughing. "Actually, I hope what you say is true."
"It is, but these are discoveries everyone has to make for himself or herself. I can only show you the way, point you in a direction."
"Is that why Holly called you the best guide in the galaxy?"
"Yes," he said with a laugh. "All right, enough lessons for one evening. Want to go for a walk?"
"A walk?"
He laughed at my surprise.
"Well, you'll walk and push me along," he said. "Oh. Sure," I said, hoping I hadn't insulted him with my astonishment.
"It's pretty warm out. You don't need a jacket." Without any hesitation, he turned his chair around and wheeled himself out of the living room, through the kitchen and out into the shop. I almost had to run to keep up. We paused outside the door for him to lock it and then he asked me to push him up the street. At the corner, we crossed and went down another street, past the shops, a few restaurants and a small theater. The sidewalks were crowded with well-dressed people, and I enjoyed seeing their glamorous hustle-andbustle lifestyle.
When we reached the N.Y.U. campus, Billy had me pause to listen to some speakers. Some were making political speechs, others were ranting about the coming of the end of the world. At one corner a man played a guitar and sang folk songs to a small group that had gathered around him. He had his hat before him and people were putting in change and dollars.
Farther down, a group of young men sang spiritual songs a cappella. They were very good and they, too, had a basket out for contributions.
"What do you think?" Billy asked me as we moved down the sidewalk, past homeless people asking for handouts, a man arguing with a tree, and a black boy who looked like he couldn't be more than twelve playing the bongo drums.
"Now I understand why Holly calls New York a carnival of life."
Billy laughed and asked me to wheel him toward a bench where there were no people and little noise. I sat and we watched the traffic, the groups of tourists and city dwellers making their way to and from their destinations.
"It was on this corner," he suddenly said.
"What was?"
"Where it happened. I was running in that direction," he nodded to the left. "It was about two in the morning. I was a student here, you know."
"Oh. Doesn't it bother you to come here?"
"No. It intrigues me. I can give you this advice, Melody Logan," he said in a deeper, darker voice that made my spine tingle. "Seize the moment, confront the face of that which frightens you and search until you find a way out. Don't let anything shut you up inside yourself. Wherever you go, whatever you see, when you are most afraid, think of this corner, of those shadows, of me sitting here and staring back through time at myself, at the gunman, at the sound of the pistol, at myself folding on that sidewalk and then, suddenly rising up out of myself and standing taller than before."
He reached out and took my hand and I felt as if his courage and spiritual strength moved into me. I smiled. "Thank you, Billy."
"Thank yourself, cherish yourself and don't let anyone make you feel small."
He sat back and suddenly looked exhausted, as if he had spent all his energy on me.
"Maybe we should go back now," I suggested. He nodded.
Holly still hadn't returned by the time we arrived. "Can I help you with anything?" I asked.
"I'll be fine," he said, smiling. "Thank you."
Billy wheeled himself down the corridor, first to the bathroom and then to his room. I prepared for bed myself. As he went by to go to his room, he paused at my door.
"Good night, Melody."
"Good night, Billy," I called. He wheeled into his room and I marveled at how cheerful he was and how well he had driven the shadows of loneliness from his door.
I wasn't in my room five minutes before those shadows began closing in on me. Here I was in a strange place, away from anyone I loved or who loved me, feeling like a wanderer who had lost all sense of direction and no longer knew her way home.
From what well of faith did Billy Maxwell draw so much strength?
I lay there in the dark thinking about Cary, hearing his laughter, recalling flashes of his smile, his beguiling eyes, even his smirk. Thinking about him made me feel better. I closed my eyes and
concentrated on the memory of the sound of the ocean, visualized the sight of the tide rushing in to wash the shore.
And soon, the shadows of loneliness sunk back. Sleep, like the tide, washed over me.
I was drifting out.
When I woke the next morning, I was embarrassed by how late I had slept. I practically jumped out of the bed, washed and dressed. Holly and Billy had already opened the shop and were dealing with customers.
"I'm sorry I slept so late," I declared when the customers left.
"That's all right, honey," Holly said. "You must have been exhausted. Billy told me you two went for a walk," she added.
"I guess all the excitement of being in New York tired me out."
"I'll get her some breakfast," Billy called out as he headed for the kitchen.
"I hate being so much trouble."
"You're no trouble. After you have some breakfast, we'll go get your airline tickets," Holly said. "Then, I'd like to show you some of New York. What would you like to see the most?"
"I don't know." My mind reeled with the possibilities, the things and places I had only read about and Alice and I had spoken about back in Sewell when the two of us planned a future trip together. What had once been a childhood fantasy was now a reality for me.
"I guess I'd like to see the Empire State Building and Broadway and the Statue of Liberty and the Museum of Natural History and . . ."
"There's only one day," Holly said, laughing.
"I'll show her most of that," Billy called from the kitchen. "Got some fruit, a bowl of multi-grain cereal, juice and coffee in here waiting on you, Melody."
"You'll show me?" I asked, not hiding my astonishment well. He and Holly looked at each other and then laughed.
"Billy gets around as well as anyone," Holly said. "He has a van with a lift and a specially engineered steering wheel."
"Gift from my parents," he said, and I thought, how strange that he had never mentioned them before. "I can't take you away from the shop. I . ."
"What do you mean? I'm due a vacation anyway, aren't I, Holly?"
"More than one," Holly replied. "Better eat breakfast so you can get started," Holly said. "Go on," she urged. "Stop being a worrywart."
I laughed and went in to have my breakfast. Afterward, Holly and I drove over to the travel agency where her friend worked and I picked up my airline tickets. Having them in my hand with the itinerary spelled out before me made me suddenly frightened. Would I really get on that plane tomorrow and fly across the country to stay with people I didn't know and search one of the country's biggest cities for a mother who might not want to see me?
Billy had his van in front of the shop when we returned. He showed me how the lift worked and then took his place in the driver's seat. Holly waved goodbye as we drove off for my tour of New York, Billy looking as excited about it as I was.
"It's always fun to see familiar things through virgin eyes," he explained. "It helps one appreciate what one has more."
Seeing the Empire State Building in the distance was one thing, but to ride right up to it and look up was another.
"You want to go up?" Billy asked.
"Can we?"
"Of course. I'll pull into that parking garage there and we'll take the elevator. It's a beautiful day for it. We'll probably see into Canada."
"We will?"
"No," he said laughing.
"You probably think I'm a country bumpkin," I said, grimacing.
"Absolutely not, and what if you were? It would be refreshing and honest," he replied. Billy could turn anything negative into a positive, I thought. How could anyone be so perfect?
Billy moved about the city as if it were just a small town no bigger than Sewell. The hordes of people, a veritable sea of bodies and faces moving up and down the sidewalks, the legions of cars, the noise and commotion seemed not to exist. He wheeled himself along barely noticing any of it, while my eyes raced back and forth, up and down, taking in everything.
The elevator ride to the observation deck of the Empire State Building was the most exciting I had ever taken, and when we stepped out and over to the railing, I thought we were literally on top of the world. I squealed with amazement. Billy laughed and gave me some change for the telescope through which I could see the Hudson River and clear across to New Jersey.
Afterward, we drove up to Broadway and past all the theater marquees, the great electric signs and through Times Square, a place I had seen only on television and read about in books. My heart pounded with excitement. I couldn't wait to write to Alice. Billy decided we should have lunch in the world famous Chinatown, where he could get his favorite-- vegetable to mein. While we were there, he bought me a beautiful hand-painted fan.
After lunch, we went out to the Statue of Liberty. The sky was still mostly blue and there was a warm breeze from New York Harbor. When we returned to shore, I realized Billy was more tired than he pretended and I told him it was time to go back to the shop, claiming I was tired myself. I wasn't. New York had a way of injecting its energy into me. The panorama of people, things to see and do was mesmerizing and helped me forget all my worries and troubles.
Back at the shop, the three of us sat and had some tea while I ranted on and on about the things we had done and seen. Afterward, Billy went into his room to meditate and Holly and I took care of the customers. I was fascinated with how much people were intrigued by her crystals and gems, how much they wanted to believe in the powers. All sorts of people came in to buy and inquire about the items: old as well as young, men and women alike. Some were frequent customers and many testified to the claims Holly made about her stones.
When Billy emerged from his room, he looked revived. Once again I offered to help him with dinner, but again he told me I was the guest and he enjoyed the preparations. After she closed the shop, Holly and I sat in the living room and relaxed while Billy made dinner. I told her about the poem he had read and the things he had said.
"He's a wonderful person. I'm happy he became my partner."
"He said his parents gave him the van, but he didn't mention any more about his family to me. Where are they?"
Holly grimaced.
"They live upstate and they are quite happy he's not there, too. They don't accept his way of life now. His father calls him a hippie."
"Oh, how sad."
"Billy isn't happy about it, but he's resigned and he accepts it."
"Does he have any brothers and sisters?"
"An older brother, an attorney. He sees him whenever he comes to New York; or, I should say, once in a while when he comes to New York. I don't think he calls every time. He wanted Billy to go home and live with their parents, but Billy won't be treated like some handicapped person, as you've probably already noticed."
"He's amazing," I said. "Inspirational."
Holly nodded. Then she turned a bit serious.