Several years later

Staring out at the blue water and hazy islands of Penobscot Bay, Michelle savored the piney scent of the enfolding forest. Though it lay in the cupboard behind her on the porch, she could feel the weight of the Sig Sauer pistol resting heavily in her lap, her right hand loosely folded around the grip, like so many times before. The birds came and went from the feeder. Why would the smell of the forest remind her of the gun? She pushed the thought away.

No matter how she tried, no matter who she talked to, what medications she took, the aching emptiness remained. Give it time, they all said, it will get better.  It wasn’t, it hadn’t, and increasingly, she grew more convinced, it wouldn’t.

She stopped talking about it, withdrew further, communicated less and less with her handlers, asked for less, receded into anonymity.

A cardinal flitted up, sat on the railing and cocked its head, staring at her as if rebuking her for these thoughts. 

Hello, my sweet girl.

Bina’s bird, redbird, her first words; come once again to deliver a message, or comfort.

They stared at each other, Michelle resisting the urge to speak to it, which she knew would frighten it away. The cardinal flew off. Michelle waited to see what other birds might appear, like the flitting thoughts and memories of before, of Bina, and Adam, and what happened.

The refuge in Maine helped. She couldn’t really remember how she got here, or even how long she’d been there before she began emerging from the fog. They made her exercise, and eat, watching over her, keeping her safe. After a while, Mei and her other minders took her on little trips up and down the coast, and into the interior to mountains and lakes, always away from the crowds during the season.

The periodic contacts from Christine Bilyk ceased after a while. Michelle never responded. Mei told her about the new efforts to integrate the Entity into world affairs, and Mei’s role as a Voice was an important part of that.

The passing seasons were the only measure of time. Summer was best, fall worst, because of the memories.

The visits from Father Ed were always welcome, though now more infrequent. As the leader of the Vatican-approved mission to the grendels, he remained at the center of ongoing controversies. No matter how much he avoided attention and focused on his converts, now a small congregation, the rancor would not dissipate. The assassination of the Pope in Nairobi, still unsolved, demonstrated the potency of the conflict. The emergence of the Human League as the organized opposition to anything to do with either the Entity or the grendels was a further complication, and now Fr. Ed was drawn into the controversy about whether the Via Deinceps document was actually an encyclical, or just a motu proprio. What were the dead Pope’s intentions? His successor wasn’t providing much clarity. If it weren’t for Fr. Ed’s conversations about these intrigues, Michelle wouldn’t have cared about any of it.

She heard the crunch and pop of tires on the gravel drive, then soft footfalls approaching.  She recognized the subtle floral perfume and reflexively heaved a deep sigh, welcoming the comfort of Mei’s presence. As she exhaled, she felt the soft touch on her shoulder.

No greetings exchanged, they both stared out at the water in silence.  After a few minutes, Mei stepped back, and Michelle heard her open a drawer behind her, followed by the metallic click of the magazine ejecting, and then the chock-chock of the slide clearing the round in the chamber, which fell to the wood floor with a knock.  The drawer closed, and Mei resumed her gentle touch on Michelle’s shoulders.  Michelle could picture the bullet on the floor behind her.  Would she pick it up? The thought flitted and fled, like most others, like the birds at the feeder.

“There were bears,” Michelle lied.  Mei made no reply, and they continued their silent sharing. Mei moved to sit on the porch railing in front of Michelle. Finally, Michelle spoke again.

“Do you remember when I came here?”

“Of course.”

“How did I get here?”

“Well…” Mei heaved a deep sigh and unspooled the story yet again, helping Michelle rebuild her life by reconstructing the lost time. “You were in the hospital a long time, first because of the injuries from the fight. You shot one of the Air Force guys trying to get his gun. They hit you in the head and broke my arm when I tried to protect you. When you got out, we tried to help the yunk, keep it from cracking up. You were okay for a while, but then you ended up back in the hospital after you took the pills.”

“When did we move here?”

“Almost two years now, when they started arresting the crazies and it was safer to move around. After we lived with my parents in Portland.”

“I remember you spending a lot of time with Christine.”

Mei nodded. The government relied heavily on the assistance of the groupmind during its own house cleaning, quietly purging government agencies of traitors and extremist sympathizers.  That was the beginning of the very close collaboration between the Entity and human governments around the world.  Michelle asked more questions, prompting further elaboration and more questions.

“What’s making you ask these questions now?” Mei probed gently.  Michelle’s brow furrowed slightly, her gaze a little less distant, a little more focused.

“I just…I was thinking about things, and I realized there’s so much I can’t remember from right after I heard they both…died. I remember that moment exactly, very clearly…but then, nothing, or almost nothing, until I was here. I remember the first winter, how dark it was, how dark I felt, all empty and cold, then the other seasons.”

Michelle did remember one other thing, another time she held the gun, and was using it to point to where she felt the hole in her own body, the actual physical hole that she said she could see, the hole where Bina and Adam used to be.  Poking herself with the pistol to emphasize, and how quickly everyone moved, knocking her down, taking the gun. It surprised her, and oddly, she laughed. It was the first time since their deaths that something surprised her, a momentary reprieve from the monotony of her grief.

“Do you remember going back to Portland?” Mei asked. She leaned forward and picked up Michelle’s arm, lightly touching the skin with the touch talk. Michelle tensed, then relaxed, tracking the message, allowing it to penetrate and do its work, relaxing her and activating the unconscious pathways of the touch talk and meshing.

They’d retreated to a ganglion group, Mei’s, near her family. The memories of being around the other members of the ganglion, Mei’s parents, spicy food, smells of garlic and onions, ginger, the sound of frying, chewy fat noodles slithering in the mouth, the metallic clack clack and scrape of the spatula in the wok, the animated conversations in Mandarin, the touching and warmth, the absorption and sharing of the connected mind.

Like clawing through webbing, out of a cocoon of amnesia, the memories returned, tinged with whispered pain and sorrow. Gradually, the moments connected, reintegrating, restoring a continuous thread in her memory, emerging into consciousness.  The recollections came faster, then the shared memories of Bina in the groupmind, and the content of the message Bina left with Archie…Michelle jerked her arm away. She looked up into Mei’s eyes.

“That’s enough. Not yet.”  Mei sat back and looked out over the trees to the distant ocean.

“Did you want to try with Archie again? He’s asking after you a lot.”

Michelle shook her head, flinging a few stray tears from her welling eyes. Mei reached over and rubbed a few from Michelle’s cheek with her thumb.

“No, no. I…not yet.”

“He’s become quite the celebrity. The yunk desperately wants him back and in a regular ganglion. He keeps extracting things, working deals. You should see the gaming system he’s got now.”

Michelle laughed at the thought of Archie strong arming the yunk. It felt good. They sat silently enjoying the lighter moment. Mei stood up next to Michelle.

“In a few more weeks, the weather will change. It’s hard for us to get up here to bring you things, especially if we have another hard winter.”

“I’ll be okay. I don’t need much.”

“I worry about you.”  Mei reached down and caressed Michelle’s cheek, then walked back around behind her and arranged her hair, running her fingers through it, separating strands. Michelle closed her eyes, submitting to the comforting touch. She heaved a sigh.

“I know.”

Mei went into the house and returned with Michelle’s brush. She gathered Michelle’s hair and brushed it out gently then arranged it as they sat in silence.

“You have more gray.”

“The toll of time.” And life, Michelle thought to herself. “How is Sahar?” Michelle continued.

  Mei isolated a few strands and separated them out, holding them straight. “We’re on another break. She is so busy with her work.” She examined the gray hairs in her fingers. “You know, you can do something about this.  I bet there’s a nice shop in Camden.  All these old people up here.”

Michelle gave a small laugh.

“Like me.” She reached up and held Mei’s hand. “It’s not just work, is it?”

Mei dropped the hair and flicked Michelle’s neck gently with a finger.  “You’re not old. My parents are old.” She rubbed the spot where she flicked as if in apology. “We fought again. About children. She still doesn’t want any. I want a family. The yunk has breeding plans for me. I want a non-yunk partner to parent with. I think that’s really important.”

She squeezed Mei’s hand, acknowledging the volumes unspoken in that brief statement. 

Mei continued her ministrations. “Let’s go into Camden for lunch. I’ll get you an appointment, and we’ll do your hair. I want to talk to you about something.”

Michelle shook her head almost imperceptibly.

“No more talking. I’m done with counselors.”

“No, just me and you. I want you to come with me on a trip. To Hawaii.”

Mei could feel Michelle’s posture subtly change. “We have a place on Kauai, near Hanalei, we could stay.  We’re doing something interesting out there.”

“You and someone else, or a yunk thing?”

Mei hesitated. “Both.”

Michelle remained silent.

“Have you ever been to Hawaii?”

Michelle shook her head.

“C’mon, let’s get lunch.  I’ll tell you about it. It will be fun.”

For a moment, Michelle allowed herself to feel the warmth of Mei’s affection and concern, opening a crack to permit the empathy to touch her heart, even though it burned the still raw nerve endings laid bare by the deaths of her brother and child, and all it meant about her failings as a daughter, sister, and mother. Something compelled her to allow it, and one moment stretched into another.  With another deep sigh, she resigned herself to see how these moments might string together, the next heartbeat, the next breath, the next step, the next meal, the next sunrise, into the future.

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