Lucinda and Savanna entered the stairwell and started down. Lucinda was keyed up. “Looks like you guys are still in separate rooms,” she said after half a flight of descent.
Savanna yawned. “Oh, yeah.”
After another flight down, Lucinda spoke again. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Should I?”
“Sometimes it helps, sometimes it hurts.” Lucinda was trying to overcome the defensive routine that Savanna frequently and effectively employed.
“And sometimes it is hard to tell the difference.” Footsteps clacked and echoed. “Stress strips away the facades we use. I need to readjust to the Cyrus that I see now, not the one that applied for this post.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Technically, we’re not.”
“You know what I mean.”
“About seven years ago. Did you and Chen get joined or married?”
“Married. Catholic ceremony, big cathedral, happy family, lots of people.”
“You don’t seem like a Catholic.” They arrived at the third floor and stopped outside Lucinda’s room.
“Chen is—was. His Chinese family has been Catholic for generations. Come in for a minute. I don’t want to wake up Paulson-Trujillo.” They went inside and sat on a pair of chairs as Lucinda continued without a pause. “I had to go to classes and get baptized to keep the peace. Where did you guys get joined?”
“In Nice, on a long weekend break from the agency.”
“What was that like?”
“We went down with a few friends, paid for a ceremony on the beach, and partied it up for a couple of days before we took our hangovers back to work.”
“What kind of a union did you get?”
“Seven years.”
“So, technically, at this very moment, you are neither married nor joined.”
“It is a month past, but what does that really mean up here or anywhere?”
“Nothing,” Lucinda said, “unless you split. Maybe you have.”
“No. This is a holding pattern. There is something not right with him.”
“That is vague for you, Savanna. You are usually decisive.”
“He is enigmatic. It’s probably being cooped up all the time. This is a lot of togetherness in a tight space in infinite space.”
“What specifically bother you?”
“The time of day to be talking. I should be sleeping. So should you.” Savanna stood and moved to the door.
“We should discuss this at a better time, then.”
“Maybe. Things will work out. They always do. One more thing, Luc.”
“What’s that?”
“Finding this dust ahead was pure luck. Why did you do this analysis when you did?”
“Like I said, Raul brought it up. Ask him.”
“I will,” Savanna said. “I wonder if he will attribute it to God. My parents were Catholic. And mean. I don’t get why people believe in gods. Spirituality and the search for meaning is a human affliction. Religions focus on either on a ‘sky-god,’ or on a tenebrous spiritual essence connecting humans, animals, all life, Earth, and the universe. On the whole, it’s probably a good thing. It can teach positive sociological behaviors and give hope and meaning to life, a beneficial deception. Of course, occasionally the sky-gods du jour demands extermination of some entity or assigns real estate to the favored people. Or maybe a god just gets hungry for a virgin or a warrior’s beating heart. Religions mature as time passes, but the concept never goes away. Christianity is evolving, since Christ has, so far, failed to show up clad in scarlet to step on the Mount of Olives. In spite of the bad examples, the effect of faith is usually peace and the betterment of man’s behavior, sometimes at the expense of scientific advancement. Maybe it is not a bad compromise.”
“You tend to go off like this when you’re tired. So much thinking makes me confused.”
“Fortune is mystifying. I want an explanation. It’s too easy to attribute stuff like this to God. I would prefer to blame some old guy behind curtains pulling ropes. This time, it was kismet.”
“I’ll thank God and take the good fortune. Why do you agonize so much about stuff like that?”
“I like answers, knowing why.”
“Peeling onions makes you cry.”
“Let’s get some sleep, Luc. I’m wrecking heaven, and you’ve started rhyming.”
Savanna left. When the door was closed, Lucinda said, “Heaven’s not reached by social climbing.”
In her room, Savanna tossed around in bed for half an hour, troubled and unable to sleep. Frustrated, she got up, grabbed a pink-and-beige capsule, and headed down to Recreation. She selected a vacation on the Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico. Soon, she was there, lying on white sand, walking in warm September rain. She went into a deep and dark cenote, a freshwater cave, took off her clothes, and swam. The cool water brought clarity to her thinking and certainty that her mission would succeed. As she toweled off, she saw a peculiar, short young woman across from her, watching, sitting in the darkness. She wore thick glasses, carried a book, and emanated admiration. Rather than feeling fear or embarrassment, Savanna thanked her.
She was instantly awake, her heart pounding against her throat, her breathing staccato. She thought she should lay off the pink-and-beige for a while. That nonsensical vision had become a little too real.