White Apples (35 page)

Tillman put his down on the table. "Comas are pleasant places. They're the ideal place to go when you're trying to decide whether to live or die."

Ettrich kept drinking from his glass. "Do people always go to a comedy club when they're in a coma?"

"No, they can choose any place they want—the Maldives Is•lands, a hammock in the backyard where you watch fireflies punc•tuate the summer evening... Some place where you're at peace and can think clearly."

The comedian on stage must have cracked a great joke because wild laughter erupted from the audience. Ettrich looked around. "Then why the hell would I choose to come to a comedy club where Richard Kroslak is bringing down the house?"

"I don't know, Vincent. You'd have to ask yourself that ques•tion. Have you decided yet what you're going to do?" "Now?"

"Yes. Are you going to die again?" Till turned his glass around and around on the table with long fingers.

"I haven't really thought about it." Ettrich realized something and looked at Till. "I'm in the hospital again, aren't I? That's why you're here. The last time we saw each other, you said they wouldn't let you out. So I'm back in the hospital dying again, huh?"

"Hospitals are where most people go when they're in comas, Vincent." Coco came over to their table and sat down.

She wore a clinging silvery silk dress that made her look like a sexy letter opener.

"Whoa
Coco, you look great!"

She beamed and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you. It's our last time together, Vincent. I thought it would be nice if I dressed up for you."

A big raucous round of applause rose all around them. Kroslak left the stage in a phony jog, both hands in the air waving to his adoring fans. The houselights came up and the audience started talk•ing.

"You've got nine lives, Coco. I thought the last time we'd seen each other was when they killed you at the zoo." "It was—in
that
dimension. But we're in a different one now and this definitely is our last time together." Leaning

forward she took both of his hands, squeezed them, and let them go.

Then both Coco and Tillman watched Ettrich closely, as if ex•pecting him to say something significant or decisive. But there was nothing to say. He liked this dream and had little desire to leave it. He enjoyed doing his act on stage and knew that if he practiced enough he would become a great comedian. Somewhere far back in his mind were thoughts of Isabelle and Anjo, but they were like foreign cities he'd visited long ago and enjoyed but had no attach•ment to now.

Frustrated at his silence and the bland look on his face, Coco decided to go for broke. "What about my Eef, Vincent? Have you forgotten that?"

His body went rigid and his eyes flared. He stood up. "Fuck you, Coco. You had no right to do that." To Reeves's great surprise, Ettrich walked away from the table and did not look back.

Coco slapped her forehead and said, "Shit!"

Tillman Reeves said nothing but she was so embarrassed that she wouldn't look at him.

"That was so stupid of me, Till—really really stupid." Without saying more, she got up and followed Ettrich out of the room.

Still not looking at her, Reeves picked up his drink and made to take a sip, then gently replaced the glass on the table.

Coco knew the rules and she had just broken a very big one. Human decisions had to be made voluntarily. There could be no coercion or trickery involved. When that happened, things were often tainted, causing useless or even disastrous results.

But she had been so impatient to get Vincent out of this stupid dream and back into his life where he was so urgently needed that she went where she was never meant to go to find what she wanted.

Until then, the only ones who knew about "my Eef" were Vin•cent and Isabelle. It was their secret and treasure. Neither had ever told anyone about it. When Coco saw how indifferent he was about returning to life, she went into his mind. Without any hesitation she went looking for just such a jewel to dangle in front of him and say look—
this
is why you must go back. This is reason enough.

Early in their relationship, when both Ettrich and Isabelle knew beyond doubt that this was going to be huge, they were making love one night. In the middle of it, Isabelle began to cry. Initially the reason her tears came was because she was so afraid of the intensity of her feelings for this new man. Then the crying went beyond that into something much greater.

Ettrich didn't know what he should do. While she cried she wouldn't let go of him, wouldn't stop making love. She kept mov•ing, touching him, tears flowing down her face onto his bare skin. More and more tears, sobs, her body moving quicker and wilder. He knew they weren't happy tears but he couldn't tell anything else about them. Was she sad? Overcome? As her crying intensified so did her lovemaking until it became a kind of glorious attack he could

barely handle.

In time some part of it swept him up too and pulled him into its center. He stopped thinking and his body took over.

Ettrich lost control. He had never, ever lost himself in sex but now it was happening. He was just
gone
and the experience was overwhelming. Out of nowhere she abruptly came, her voice going high and shrill. For moments it sounded almost as if she were talking in tongues. Then as she climaxed she said "My Eef." Her orgasm went on and on and the "e" in that strange word held. To Ettrich it felt like she came forever, the whole thing becoming more intense as it went on. He didn't think about having an orgasm, so caught up was he in the intensity of the act itself.

When it ended and she slowly floated back down to earth again—her body unclenching, her fingers no longer steel on his arms—they looked into each other's eyes. Everything they had ever wanted in another person was there. For that time, those holy sec•onds, both of them were complete and the feeling was transcendent. Neither would ever experience anything like that again.

When life had returned to breathing normally once more, Et•trich said in that moment he felt they had given birth to a being that was wholly theirs but separate at the same time. It lived now; it was on the earth and would survive as long as either of them was still here. Isabelle had once read a poem that said much the same thing but did not tell him that because she was so in awe of the experience and thrilled by Vincent's coming up with the idea him•self.

Shyly he asked her what "Eef" meant. She gave him a blank look so he explained.

"I don't know where it came from, Vincent." She paused and stroked his face. Her palm was hot and wet. "Maybe that's its name—that thing we made together. It's My Eef. Our Eef."

Either because she was self-conscious, or because those words immediately became sacred to them, Isabelle never said "My Eef" again in her passion. And the only time either of them ever referred to them was when they were talking about that night and its importance. They agreed that it was the only holy experience either of them ever had.

Opening the back door of the club, Coco was met by the bitter odors of fresh asphalt and exhaust fumes—two smells Vincent said he liked very much. The building was near a freeway—she could hear the constant passing and hum of traffic in the background. Stepping out into the parking lot, she looked all around for Ettrich. Because it was his dream, this world lived by his rules. A few feet away the adult Richard Kroslak was being beaten up by two boys wearing high school jackets and Beatles haircuts. Kroslak kept hol•lering, "I'll never do it again. I swear to God I'll never come back here." But his assailants kept punching.

Leaning on a candy-apple-red Chevelle, two pretty teenage girls smoked and rhapsodized about what a stud Vincent Ettrich was. After listening a while, Coco sidled up and asked if they had seen him recently. They both gestured off to the left and went back to their conversation.

"And that tongue! Do you believe the way he uses that tongue on you?" Hearing this, Coco had to admit Vincent was an excellent kisser.

And an excellent lover. He'd once said that in his experience, the vast majority of women were lousy lovers. But the poignant thing was most of them believed they were terrific in bed. Coco wondered if she was good in bed. She certainly enjoyed it. Unlike Vincent now, there were many things she would miss about this life when she was gone, sex being one of them.

She started quietly whistling "My Favorite Things" from
The Sound of Music
(she also loved musicals) as she walked across the parking lot in the direction the girls had indicated. What could she say now to convince him to go back to his life?

"Nothing."

In the first second, Coco thought she had said the word aloud to herself but she hadn't. A row of cars was parked in front of her. Sitting on the hood of one was Bruno Mann. Against all the advice he had been given at the barbershop, the King of the Park had decided to change himself back to the person Ettrich had always known. He wanted to see the look on Vincent's face when he re•alized who Bruno Mann really was.

"Hello, Missy."

She stopped where she was and watched him as if he were a tornado coming right at her. "Bruno, you're not supposed to be here. I'm sure Vincent would not include you in his dream."

His arms were behind him on the hood. He leaned back com•fortably, totally at ease in the moment. "That's true, but you were not supposed to go fishing in his mind for things like Eefs. So we've both been naughty. I won't tell anyone if you won't. Plus, aren't you impressed that I'm here? It's not easy to enter people's comas if you're not invited."

"Why are you here?" She looked around quickly to see if anyone else was with him.

"Why would I need anyone else to come with me? I got you, babe." Bruno finished speaking by singing the last line. He was read•ing her mind which wasn't fair but there was nothing she could do

about it. He also emanated a force now that she had never felt before in him. It frightened her. "Tell me why you're here, Bruno."

He grew an easy triumphant smile. "To witness the last act; the results of my handiwork. Did you hear they made me King of the Park? I've got so much power now that I can more or less do whatever I want. Cool, huh?

"But with Vincent I don't have to do much because either way, he's going to self-destruct.

"You heard what he said before—he's happy here. Isn't it in•credible after all he's been through and experienced? The man lived and died, and then was resurrected with all
sons
of extraordinary powers and reasons to live. But none of that matters because he
still
wants to stay here, doing his lousy act in a coma comedy club. Un•believable. Human beings really are unbelievable. They don't de•serve a place in the mosaic. They're so fucking blind."

"He just doesn't understand."

Bruno thought that was very funny. "Oh, sure he does—stop making excuses for him. You've lost, Coco, admit it.

Look at the man—he's learned nothing. Look at the way he's thinking now— he doesn't care about living, or his girlfriend, or their kid and what will happen to it if he dies...

"Either way Ettrich loses. If he chooses to die now, obviously he won't be able to teach Anjo. Notice that—if he
chooses
to die. But say he
chooses
to return to life. If he does then he's in a deep coma from the accident and needs blood. Did you know that he and his girlfriend have the same rare blood type? The hospital where he's staying is now filled with our people.

"Isabelle will arrive and ask what she can do for him. Our doctors will say Vincent needs a blood transfusion right now to survive. Which he does." Bruno gave a push with his arms and slid gracefully down off the hood of the car.

"Now comes the beauty part—she'll tell them she and Vincent have the same blood type. The doctors will look grave and say only the truth—that it is
very
dangerous for a pregnant woman to give blood. Because they're anemic and losing any could seriously damage their baby.

"But because she loves Vincent so much now, and is sure of it, she will risk it. She will consciously choose to trade Anjo's life for his. Because by giving her rare blood to the man she loves, brave Isabelle
will
harm their special child.

"It'll be okay, but just a little slow. Not Down's syndrome slow, but enough not to understand anything Dad might want to teach it later on.

"So no matter how this unfolds, whatever happens will be their choice. They get to choose their failure. Is that brilliant or not? You've got to give me credit for this one."

"How do you know when she finds out how dangerous it is for the child that she'll give her blood to Vincent?" Coco knew as she said it that she was grasping at straws.

"Because theirs is a real love story, honey, and real love is always chaotic. You lose control; you lose perspective. You lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos. It's a given and that's the secret.

"There I was, thinking up all kinds of cunning ways to ruin them. Then it dawned on me—all I had to do was stand back and let their love do it for me. I didn't have any more work. Love is a petri dish for chaos. Just put it in there and let it
spawn."
He put one hand on his stomach and extended the other arm out as if he were ballroom dancing with a partner. To the tune of "My Favorite Things" he sang:

"Love is a vi-rus that de-stroys your hard disk, Love is sure death to all your care-ful lo-gic—"

He danced by himself, he spun slowly. He moved in and out among the parked cars, pausing here and there to dip his invisible partner, to twirl her in the air, hamming it up and having the greatest time. Bruno had all the time in the world now because he was finished with his job. At that moment he was King of this Parking lot too.

Coco watched with loathing because she knew he was right. He didn't have to do anything more. Just let the Vincent/Isabelle connection run its course and no matter what direction it took, Anjo was doomed.

When fireworks started exploding in the night sky directly above them, illuminating their startled upturned faces with bursts and streamers of brilliant color, each thought the other had done it. Bruno thought it was Coco's unexpectedly gracious way of applaud•ing him. Coco thought it was Bruno's way of applauding himself.