Transition: Chapter 22 (Boston)

First, she’s surprised to see that night has fallen. Then, she’s surprised that she’s surprised – after all, it had been dusky when she arrived at the studio, and that must have been more than an hour ago. Suddenly, she’s exhausted. It’s been a long day, and she’s ready to sleep.

She flinches when the door clangs shut behind her. She finds herself standing in a dark and narrow alleyway. A soupy fog drifts through the air, lending an aura of mystery to the dim lights that dot the alley walls. The afterglow of her “adventure” with Rudi lingers in her senses. For a moment, she imagines that she’s in danger, and she turns to see if the door has locked behind her. But as she reaches for the doorknob she sees the lights of traffic passing at the far end of the alley, and she feels silly for being scared.

When she reaches the street, she sees that she’s only a few yards from the entrance to the building. A red awning covers a red carpet that extends from a large revolving door across a wide sidewalk all the way to the street. That’s where the taxi dropped me off when I got here, she remembers, maybe that’ll be a good spot to catch a cab back to the hotel...

But then she catches a glimpse of three white-clad figures huddling by the revolving door – and although she can’t see their faces, she knows that it must be Sunshine and two of her cohorts. How had Uncle Stan described them? Refugees from the sixties? She had expected them to be more colorful – tie-died shirts, platform shoes, flashy bell-bottoms. But these folks are disappointingly bland.

She decides to turn and walk away, she’ll flag down a taxi on the next block. But it’s too late, a mop of red hair is bobbing up and down as Sunshine waves frantically to get her attention. Jillian considers pretending that she hasn’t noticed, but Sunshine would only chase her down, so what’s the point? And so she plasters a smile on her face and walks over to greet Sunshine and her companions. One of whom must be the mysterious Nathan. A real, honest-to-goodness guru.

Whatever the hell that is.

“Jill!” Sunshine runs forward excitedly and hugs Jillian quickly but firmly. “I was afraid that I had missed you! I was afraid that you wouldn’t get to meet Nathan! He really wants to meet you!” Her face shines, her expression seems to indicate that she has paid Jillian a compliment of the highest order.

“And I really want to meet him, too,” Jillian lies.

They walk back to the carpet under the awning, where Sunshine’s two companions wait patiently. One, a slender woman with a sallow complexion and straight, sandy-blonde hair that hangs down past her shoulders, studies Jillian with a somber expression. The other is a mountain of a man, at least six-and-a-half feet tall, probably weighing in at close to three hundred pounds; his jocular expression and cherubic face seem out of place on his ponderous frame.

“I guess you must be Nathan,” Jillian says, holding out her hand and smiling with what she hopes is acceptable warmth.

The large man’s eyes first register shock, then humor; and in an instant, he’s shaking with laughter.

“Guess not,” Jillian says, withdrawing her hand. Is this guy high, or what?

“Nathan went to get the car, Jill,” Sunshine explains, her tone suggesting that Jillian has committed at least a minor faux pas. “This is my brother, Walker, and my sister, Chastity. And this,” she says proudly, showing off her prize, “this is Jill Kendal!”

“Namaste, Jill Kendal.” Chastity speaks softly and embraces Jillian; then she steps back, holds Jillian’s shoulders, and peers searchingly into her eyes. “You have a powerful aura, Jill Kendal,” she pronounces, nodding significantly. “Almost too powerful. Bright, and extraordinarily well-defined. You have a magnificent store of inner strength, but you must resist the temptation to be too headstrong. I salute the spirit within you.” Inclining her head in a slight bow, she retreats a few steps backward.

Jillian suppresses a nervous laugh. Are these folks for real? They look too serious to be putting me on. Do they expect me to say something? Am I supposed to somehow return that bizarre greeting?

“Hi, Jill.” The man-mountain saves her by extending his hand. “I’m Walker, and I’m very pleased to meet you. We all are.” His handshake is surprisingly gentle for a man of his proportions, as if perhaps he’s afraid of hurting her. He beams with a jovial warmth; he has an infectious grin, which Jillian returns gratefully. His smile, almost apologetic, seems to say that he knows how strange they must appear to her; she feels as though they’re sharing a secret.

She shakes his hand with relief; here, at least, is a greeting that she knows how to return. “Hi... Walker, is it?”

“That’s right.”

“Walker, I’m glad to meet you folks, too. I didn’t know that Sunshine had her whole family with her.”

The round face smiles. “We’re not actually a ‘family’ in the traditional sense, Jill. I mean, we’re not related by blood. We’re brothers and sisters in a spiritual sense.”

“Oh, I see,” Jillian says. “That’s... nice.”

“We are but different manifestations of the same spirit,” Chastity explains. “We are inseparably joined by the invisible bonds of Nathan’s love.”

Time to go, Jillian thinks. “Listen,” she says, licking her lips nervously, “I really hate to run off like this, but I...”

“Oh, no, Jill,” Sunshine wails, “you can’t leave yet! You’ve got to meet Nathan!”

“Sunshine, I’d like to, but...”

“He’ll be here any minute, Jill,” Walker says, reassuringly. “You really should stick around and meet him. It’s an experience that you should not miss.”

“Well...” Why are they making such a big deal out of it? She’s too tired to argue, and she suspects that they would be relentless even if she did.

“Here he comes!” Sunshine squeals and grabs Jillian’s arm excitedly, as if to physically restrain her in case she decides to leave.

A long, white Cadillac pulls slowly up to the curb and comes to a stop. Its windows are tinted so darkly that Jillian can’t see the driver. Sunshine and her two companions rush to the car, babbling and laughing, all talking at once. Slowly, with a dull whine of electricity, the driver’s window begins to slide down.

Jillian is standing about ten feet from the curb; and even though there are three figures between her and the car, she somehow has an unobstructed view of the driver’s window as it slowly descends, it’s as if they have purposely left a line-of-sight path for her.

The window opens with tantalizing slowness. First, she catches a glimpse of the top of a bald head. Then, she sees that it’s not entirely bald; a fringe of dark, wavy hair curves back from the driver’s temples. Surprisingly, he’s wearing sunglasses – stylish, dark, wrap-arounds that obscure his eyes and make it impossible for her to tell if he’s actually looking at her. The sunglasses annoy her. They’re so affected, she thinks. They certainly don’t serve any purpose at night.

The driver’s face is covered by a full beard, mostly black, but speckled with gray. As the window continues its downward glide, Jillian can see that he’s wearing the same white robe as his three followers.

And just as the window grinds to a halt, the driver reaches up and slowly removes his sunglasses. And finally, she’s looking into his eyes...

And those eyes! A penetrating stare, looking through her more than at her. She feels violated, stripped bare. The sounds of the city, the drone of traffic, the conversations of passers-by, they all fade into insignificance. A low buzz fills her ears. And then there’s a rushing sound like a cold wind whistling through the trees. She shivers. A thin, blue flame flashes through her body. Her stomach flips disconcertingly. For a moment, she thinks that she’s going to be sick. She closes her eyes...

And just as quickly as it came on, the vertigo passes. The sounds and smells of the city flood back into her senses.

With some trepidation, she opens her eyes.

And everything is normal. The bearded face is still turned toward her, but now it features eyes that twinkle brightly above a placid smile. She shakes her head, clearing the last vestiges of cobwebs. What happened? I must be even more tired than I realize, she thinks. For a minute, I thought I was about to pass out right here on the sidewalk. Wouldn’t that have been a scene!

Sunshine and her two friends seem to have forgotten entirely about Jillian; they’re gathered around the car, chattering animatedly. Oddly, the driver seems to be ignoring them; his eyes and his attention are focused entirely on Jillian. He nods his head ever so slightly to her, a greeting, or perhaps a bow. His smile radiates warmth; his eyes are soft and inviting, polar opposites of the piercing eyes in her brief hallucination.

Suddenly, Sunshine seems to realize that she’s been neglecting Jillian. Her hand shoots to her mouth in embarrassment; she runs back to Jillian, grabs her arm, and pulls her over to the car, apologizing profusely. “Jill,” she says, flushed with excitement. “This...” – she emphasizes the word dramatically, possibly to highlight Jillian’s earlier misidentification – “this is Nathan!”

The three figures in the ridiculous white robes stare at Jillian expectantly; she feels more like she’s on stage than she had felt during Leida’s interview. This is silly, she thinks; these folks are a bunch of loonies, but they’re harmless. Why am I letting them get to me?

“Hi, Nathan,” is finally all she can think of to say, and she extends her hand to him.

He reaches a hand through the open window and takes hers. It’s an unusual sensation, not like he’s shaking her hand at all. She has the impression that he’s caressing it, but not in a sexual kind of way, it’s more as if he were somehow communicating with her through physical contact. She has the strangest feeling that some kind of energy is flowing from his hand into hers. It’s not so much a physical sensation as an amorphous feeling of well being, it feels more like a rush of adrenalin than a jolt of electricity.

“Hello, Jill.” His voice sounds surprisingly normal, and Jillian realizes that she was expecting something mystical, perhaps an Indian accent as per Leida’s suggestion. But it’s a very American voice, and the accent has a recognizable touch of New York.

“We seem very strange to you,” he says. It’s not a question, it’s an observation, uttered with calm certainty. And she almost says, reflexively, oh no, you’re not strange at all – but something in his expression tells her that it’s okay, that there’s nothing wrong with her thinking that they’re strange. Then she feels embarrassed that she had almost lied to him, but his eyes tell her that that’s okay too, that he knows, that he understands. That he accepts.

“I’m very tired,” she says. It occurs to her that this is a complete non sequitur; but somehow, it makes sense, it explains the strange notions that are whirling madly through her brain. And she’s certain that he understands.

“You are very tired,” he agrees. It sounds like a command. For an instant, she has the wild thought that he’s trying to hypnotize her, that in a moment she’ll crumple to the ground in a heap, at the mercy of his mesmeric powers. She’s relieved when nothing happens.

“You must rest,” he says. He releases her hand and slips his sunglasses back on. At the same time, the window begins its smooth, upward climb. Soon, all she can see is the shiny top of his bald head. And then the window is closed, and he’s gone.

Jillian stares at her hand as if it were something foreign to her; then she looks quickly around as if she’s been unconscious and has just come to her senses – and, indeed, she does feel a sudden urge to get her bearings. She stands alone on the sidewalk. She has vague impressions of the sounds of car doors opening and closing. Sunshine is on the opposite side of the car, the front-seat passenger-side door is ajar. The other two loonies, slim Chastity and man-mountain Walker, they must already be in the back seat, concealed by the dark windows.

“Jill, come with us,” Sunshine implores.

“I...” Jillian is confused. “Where are you going?”

“We’re going back to the ashram. It’s not far. Just a couple of hours.” Sunshine is excruciatingly earnest, nearly begging. “Please, Jill.”

“I can’t, Sunshine, I really can’t.” I don’t want to, she thinks, I really don’t want to. “I’ve got to get back to the hotel. I have an early flight back to Dallas tomorrow.”

“We could bring you back here in the morning. Or you could catch a later flight out of Hartford.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Sunshine.” Why not? She has to give Sunshine a credible reason, the girl is relentless. “My tickets aren’t refundable. If I change my flight, I lose my money.”

“Where are you staying? We can drive you there, can’t we Nathan?” Sunshine glances into the car; but, as far as Jillian can tell, no response is forthcoming.

“Oh no, thanks, but I’m only a couple of blocks from here.” She wonders how transparent her lies are. Perhaps there are no hotels within walking distance. But the bottom line is that she’s not getting into the car.

Sunshine seems disappointed but, finally, resigned. “Good-bye, Jill,” she says, reluctantly, as she disappears into the car. “Till next time. I know we’ll see you again. We’ll see Jill again, won’t we, Nathan?”

It’s a serious question. She actually thinks that Nathan can tell the future, Jillian realizes with a start, and she’s asking him for a prediction.

Sunshine closes the car door just then, and Jillian can’t be sure that her ears aren’t playing tricks on her, but as the car pulls away into the fog, she can swear that she hears Nathan answer, in his eminently pleasant and utterly confident voice: Yes, Sunshine, yes we most certainly will see Jill again.