Sanctity (5 page)

“Your mother sounds very wise.”

I liked the way he said it and I smiled with
pride.

“How do you know I am a nice person,
Elayna?”

My heart sank and I instantly realized that
I might have misjudged him.

“You’re not so sure, now are you?  What
if I told you that I am not a nice person, that I am not a good
person?”

I had wanted so very much for him to be a
good person that I never considered he might be someone dangerous,
someone I should be afraid of.  I tried to think of a reason
why I knew he was a good person. 

“Well,” I cautiously said,
“my dad once told me that no one is really 
bad
.  People just make bad
choices.” 

“Interesting,” he tilted his head
thoughtfully, “but not enough.”

It sounded like he was saying my dad was
wrong.  Suddenly I felt very defensive, “Well, why do you
think you are a bad person?” 

He wasn’t expecting me to respond that way
and seemed taken aback.  He took a long moment to answer and
turned away when he finally replied, “Because of what I am, because
of what I’ve done,” his voice was less than a whisper.

When he turned back he looked very
distraught.  I felt like he had just confided in me and I
regretted the harsh tone I had questioned him with.  I tried
to sound apologetic, “If you have done something wrong you should
say you’re sorry and try to make it right.”

“That’s not possible.  I can’t change
back and I can’t undo what I have done,” his voice cracked and
again he looked shamefully away.

I couldn’t imagine what he meant but after
hearing the regret in his voice I began to feel very sorry for him
and I desperately wanted to make him feel better, “If you have
changed, maybe it is just because you have given up too
easily.  Were you a good person before?”

“Yes, I tried to be,” he lifted his head up,
“but now…”

“When I am about to do something I know I
shouldn’t, I try and think of something that will help me make a
better choice.  Maybe you could too.”

The sad expression on his face deepened,
“Please don’t cry,” I whispered and inched toward him.  This
was new; I had never seen a man cry before.  In my experience
the grown-ups had always comforted the children not the other way
around.  I put his head on my shoulder, hoping it was the
right thing to do, “Why do you feel so bad?”

 “I came here tonight to take something
from you,” he mumbled. 

I could feel his breath against my neck,
“You mean to steal from me?”

“Yes, something like that, yes.  Would
you still say that you think I am a nice person; that I can be a
good person?” He pulled back curious to hear what I had to say to
this.

“I would say that it is wrong to take things
from people and that you shouldn’t.”

“What if I can’t help myself, what if I
can’t stop myself from,” he paused, “from taking.”

It reminded me of something I had done a
year or two before and I decided to tell him the story.  I
chose my most solemn voice, “When I was little,” he chuckled
finding the humor in this declaration.  I cleared my throat
and began again, “When I was little, my mother brought some cheese
home from the grocery store.” 

“Cheese?” this time he actually laughed.
“You’re going to tell me a story about cheese?”

I raised my eyebrows at him in disapproval
for interrupting me even though I was happy to have made him smile,
“She gave me a slice to try before she put it away in the
refrigerator.  I really liked it and couldn’t stop thinking
about it.  After dinner, while my parents were watching TV, I
went into the kitchen and found the package of cheese.  I ate
slice after slice after slice; I couldn’t stop myself it was so
good.  I ate the whole package and put the wrapper in the
trash so no one would know.  I took my bath and I went to bed
just like always.  Later that night I woke up and was terribly
sick to my stomach over and over again.  It was the worst
night of my life.”

I looked up and saw that Michael was no
longer smiling. He was looking very intently at me and encouraged
me to finish my story.

“My parents were very worried and started
going through the apartment looking for whatever it was that I
might have gotten into that had made me so sick.  My mother
found the wrapper and so I told my parents what I had done.  I
felt so much better afterward.  Then they told me that it was
alright and that they were happy that I told them the truth. 
They told me that the cheese is what had made me sick, that I
simply ate too much.  They explained that it is alright to
have a little bit of something and to enjoy it but too much of
anything can be very bad for you.  They didn’t punish me but
told me that I had learned my lesson and next time I would be
stronger and better able to control myself because now I knew what
could happen if I didn’t.”

As I finished what I was saying I could tell
that he was intrigued by what I had just told him, “Did you believe
them?  Do you think you are stronger now?”

“Oh, yes, I know I am!  Sometimes my
mom bakes dozens of cookies and leaves them just within my reach
but I never take them.  I always ask and when I am allowed to
have one, I only have one and, oh, it is so good," I paused in
thought.  "Sometimes if you haven’t had something for a very
long time, then the next time you do it is better than you remember
and it makes you want to wait and wait and wait so it will be even
better the next time.” 

“But what if after waiting so long it makes
you lose control again and you can’t stop after just a little
bit.”

“Have you ever taken too much, like I did
with the cheese?”

“Yes, many, many times; countless times,” I
could see him searching his mind, recalling all the “countless
times”.

“I remember the time I ate the cheese and
that helps me be strong.  Maybe you have a memory that will
help you stay strong.”

He was smiling with wonder and as he sat
there and the minutes passed I could tell that he was carefully
considering all that I had said, “You are very wise, just like your
mother.”

I smiled, pleased with the idea that he had
taken me so seriously.

“Thank you for your story
Elayna.  I really enjoyed talking with you.  Maybe the
next time I am not feeling so strong I will try and think
of 
you
.”

He stood up and stepped towards me.  He
kissed me on my cheek and as he pulled away I felt the invisible
tendril again winding its way towards him.  He moved to the
open slider. 

“Goodbye Michael,” I called just as he was
about to step out.

He seemed surprised and shook his head, “You
know my name?”

“Just now, when you kissed me, then I knew
it.”

 “Goodbye Elayna.  I hope I can
come and see you again sometime; when I am stronger.”

I smiled, “I would like that,” I said, “I
would like us to be friends.”

“No one else could know,” his words were
weighted with importance.

I bit my lip hesitantly. I had never really
had a secret or kept anything from my parents. “I understand.”

“Promise,” he tilted his head.

I concentrated “I promise,” and watched for
the change in his expression to see if he had heard my thoughts
again.

He smiled in acknowledgement then stepped
through the slider.

The first few days after Michael’s visit I
would lay awake as long as I possibly could hoping he would come
again. Sometimes I would involuntarily fall asleep only to wake up
suddenly and scan my room expecting to find him there.  As the
days became weeks and the weeks became months I began to consider
the idea that it was all a dream.  I was sure that I had met
him that day at the mall but began to believe that when I went to
sleep that night my mind took the memory of meeting Michael and ran
away with it.

A year slowly passed and I thought less and
less of him until he had nearly fallen from my mind.  I never
forgot him but I didn’t remember Michael as well as I promised
myself I would.  It all came back to me, though, when he
nudged me awake one night the following August and I heard his
distinguished voice in my head as I drifted from sleep, “Happy
Anniversary,” he said.

“Michael!”  I was fully awake as soon
as I realized it was him.

I scrambled from the covers, closed the door
and flipped the light switch.  He was sitting on my bed just
as he had the night after we first met at the mall.  He looked
very much the same but I couldn’t help thinking that somehow he was
a little different. 

“Happier,” I thought to myself and something
else.

“Stronger,” he slipped the word into my
mind.

I would like to have said “Peaceful,” but
the expression didn’t immediately come to me.  I wanted to run
over and hug him but instead I did as I had before and propped my
pillow and tucked my legs under the covers. 

“Happy Anniversary?”  I asked.

“It was a year ago today that we first met,
at the mall, by the fountain.”

“Only one year, Michael, it seems like
forever!”

“It does now but when you are my age a year
will seem like a day.”

I knew that wasn’t at all true but it didn’t
matter, I was just happy that he remembered me and had come back to
see me. 

“Have you been well?” he asked me.

“Oh, yes, I have been very well.  Have
you been good Michael?  Have you remembered yourself?” I was
so excited my words came bubbling out.

He looked away as he reflected on my
question, “I have remembered you and that has helped me,” he
paused, “to be good.”

“I’m so glad that you are trying.”

He turned back to me with a mischievous
grin, “Would you like to come somewhere with me?   I want
to show you something.”

“Right now?”  I was excited by the idea
but I knew that it would be very wrong.

“We won’t go far,” he reassured me, both in
word and thought, “in fact, we won’t even leave your building,” he
reached for my hand.

I fearfully looked toward my bedroom door,
“What about my mom and dad?”

“They are sleeping and I will hear them if
they wake.  If I promise that I can get you back before anyone
notices you are gone, will you come with me?”

I smiled and reached for his hand.  He
helped me down from my bed and we walked toward the slider
together.  I stopped midway and tucked my feet into a pair of
slippers.  I was still a little hesitant sneaking out like
that and in my pajamas as well but Michael seemed very confident
and I was too curious wondering what he wanted to show me to think
about the consequences.

I noticed that it was very warm outside as
Michael held back the blinds and I stepped through the sliding
door.  Once we were on the balcony he let go of my hand and
squatted down with his back to me, “Hop up,” he said.

At that point I was downright giddy with
excitement and all my previous hesitation was lost.  I wrapped
my arms around his chest, careful not to choke him.  I felt a
little cooler then, pressed against his back.  It reminded me
of the feeling you get when you crawl beneath the sheets at the
beginning of the night and they are crisp and cold wherever they
touch your bare skin. 

“You’ll need to hold tighter than that,” he
stole a glance over his shoulder at me.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you won’t hurt me.  I am going to
need my arms to climb, so I won’t be able to hold you up. 
Have you got a good grip?”

“Yes, Michael,” I nodded. 

He hopped onto the railing of my balcony and
reached up to the floor of the balcony just above mine.  He
pulled us up to the next level and perched just on the outside edge
of that balcony.  He repeated this process a number of times
and I grew more and more terrified with each floor we passed. 
I was desperate not to look down and clung to Michael with my eyes
tightly closed until we reached the rooftop. 

The surface was flat and gravelly and I
could hear it crunching beneath his feet as he took my hands and
slipped me off his back, “Here we are.” 

I looked around wondering what it was that
he wanted to show me, “I don’t see anything Michael.”

It was very dark and I was having trouble
seeing more than a few inches in front of me.  I stretched out
my hands and tried to find him. 

“Oh, sorry, I forgot myself.  You can’t
see that well in the dark, can you?”

“No.”

“Are you scared?”

“Yes, Michael, very.”

“Don’t be,” he cradled me up into his arms
and walked to the corner of the roof and sat down with me on his
lap.  He stretched his legs out and adjusted me so that I was
sitting on him like I would sit on a lounge chair with my legs
stuck straight out on top of his.  He put his hands down
behind him and told me to lean back and look up at the sky.

It all seemed very odd to me, sitting on the
roof like that with Michael in the middle of the night and I was
ready to tell him that I didn’t like it and that I wanted to go
back to my room.  “There,” he said and pointed to the sky.

I followed with my eyes to where he was
pointing and at first I didn’t see anything at all but as I
continued to stare into the darkness something magical started to
happen.  Every minute or so I would see a shooting star sweep
across the sky.  I had never seen a shooting star before and I
was absolutely awestruck that I had seen my very first.

“Did you see?”  Michael asked me.

“I did,” I said nodding my head
enthusiastically.

“Keep watching, there will be more. 
It’s called the Perseid Meteor Shower.  You can see it every
year about this time and it’s best right now.  People have
been watching it for thousands of years if you can believe it.”