Strange Girl (33 page)

“Because he’s my father!”

“So what? It’s not like he was a good father.”

Bo choked hard and long; he coughed up so much blood.

Janet grabbed Aja by the arm, went to slap her. But then her eyes met Aja’s eyes and she stopped. I understood that, why Janet halted, even if I had no idea what else was going on. I’d felt the heat and intensity of Aja’s gaze many times. Janet shook her head in disbelief.

“What’s gotten into you? What’s wrong with you?”

Aja spoke in a firm tone. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Why are you begging me to help a man you hate?”

“That’s not true. I don’t hate him.”

“Of course you hate him. You have every reason in the world to hate him.”

Aja’s words hit Janet like physical blows. Janet groaned as if she were trying to ward them off. But I knew not to interfere even though it was hard not to. Aja was up to something—something I didn’t fully understand. Yet I could see Aja had transported Janet to another world, to
her
world, and that she was determined to do with Janet what she willed.

Janet yelled. “Damnit, Aja, can’t you see? I’m trying to save his life!”

Aja just stared at her. “Why?”

Janet was as confused as she was hurt. “Why what? Stop saying that. This isn’t like you. You always help people. Please, you’ve got to help my father. He’s dying.”

“And I told you, let him die. He’s not worth saving.”

“How can you say that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Aja said.

“No. You don’t know him. He’s a good man. He made a mistake but it wasn’t his fault.”

“It’s always the pervert’s fault.”

“He’s not a pervert!” Janet screamed.

Aja turned back toward me. “Let’s go, Fred. I’m getting tired of this.”

Janet dashed forward and grabbed Aja by the arm. “Wait! He’s not who you think he is. It wasn’t his fault.” She cried in desperation. “It was my fault!”

The sphere of invisible power around us seemed to tremble. In a mad rush I recalled the conversation I’d had on the phone with Janet when I was in LA.

“Are you saying you’re not coming back?”

“I can’t.”

“That’s crazy. You’ve got to finish out the school year. You can stay at my house. My parents would love to have you.”

“No. Then everyone would know. And that’s the last thing . . . I hate that you know. I hate how you must see me now.”

“Janet, you did nothing wrong.”

“Didn’t I?”

Aja’s demeanor suddenly shifted. She stopped and stared at Janet. “How was it your fault?” she asked gently.

Janet lowered her head as if in shame. It was as if she had been broken. I had never seen her so wounded. Tears streamed down her face.

“Because I let him . . .” Janet stopped, started again. “I let him . . . I didn’t stop him. I let him do it.”

“Did you?” Aja asked.

“Oh God, I don’t know what you want me to say! Yes, I let him do it! I let him do it because I loved him!”

Slowly Aja shook her head. “Janet, you were a child. You were what? Six? Seven? Eight years old? Of course you loved him. He was your father.”

Janet looked doubtful. “But I came back to him. Even after what he did, I came back to Elder to live with him.”

Aja spoke with authority. “Your love for your father isn’t why he abused you. Your father abused you because of his own problems. You were never to blame.” Aja paused. “Love—your love, all love—it’s always good.”

What Aja was saying—it was true. It was such an obvious truth. It pierced Janet like a living flame, burning away the deeply entrenched lies she had been telling herself for ages.

Janet trembled. “Can it be . . . ?”

“It’s true,” Aja said.

“It wasn’t my fault?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Aja said.

Janet shook her head. “I was only a child.”

“Yes,” Aja said.

Janet wiped the tears from her face. It did no good—more came. “All this time,” she sighed.

“It’s done,” Aja said.

Janet hugged Aja right then, with her one good arm, and Aja hugged her back. They held each other for a long time, before Janet finally let go and turned to stare down at Bo’s face. He had stopped struggling. He lay still, and for all we knew he was dead.

“Can you heal him?” she asked.

“If that’s what you wish,” Aja said.

The decision had been given back to Janet, or perhaps it had always resided in her hands. That frightened me. I did not know what it meant. I did not know what was to follow.

Janet stared up at the sky and shuddered. Then she looked again at Bo, staring hard at her father, before finally turning to Aja. One last time.

“I want the Big Person to decide,” Janet said. “Just don’t . . . I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Aja nodded faintly and stepped past her, before stopping beside Bo. Every fiber in my being cried at me to rush forward and swoop her up and carry her away from this dangerous situation. But I couldn’t move. It wasn’t my injured knee. It was the ocean that blocked my way—the endless ocean upon whose shore I could only stand and gaze out.

I could beg Aja all I wanted not to heal Bo and it would make no difference. Right then, at that instant, Aja was the Big Person. Everyone was equally dear to her. I liked to pretend otherwise but she loved Bo as much as she loved me. She would give her life to save him.

Aja looked in my direction and her eyes seemed to say that she was sorry but that this was the way it had to be. I wished I could have fought with her but all I could do was watch as she knelt beside Bo and placed her right hand over his heart and her left hand over his forehead. I heard her draw in a deep breath. I did not hear her exhale but I did see her eyes close and watched as her head fell forward and the life seemed to drain out of her.

• • •

The ambulances arrived fifteen minutes later. By then Bo was sitting up and talking with Janet, not far from the burning front of the car, while Aja and I sat at the rear of the Mustang, near the flames, trying to stay warm.

The paramedics were attending to Janet and Bo. She had a broken arm, after all, and Bo was obviously soaked in blood, although from what I could hear from the paramedics they couldn’t find anything wrong with him.

I accepted their offer of a blanket and asked them to examine Aja. But she waved them away. She whispered in my ear that there was nothing they could do.

“You don’t know that,” I said anxiously. “These people are trained. They’re practically doctors. They have drugs, all kinds of fancy equipment. They can shock your heart if it stops. Aja, please?”

She shook her head wearily. “It’s too late for that.”

“It’s not too late. It’s never too late.”

“Oh Fred.” She sagged into my arms as I wrapped the blanket tightly around her. “Hold me, just hold me. That’s what I need the most.”

I held her but inside my mind was screaming. “It can’t be too late.”

She looked up at me, raised her arm, wiped a tear from my cheek. “I should have told you at the start. The days of this body were numbered.”

“Why?” I said.

“The Big Person doesn’t tell us why. But it knew. That’s why it sent me to your town. That’s why it sent me to you.”

I swallowed thickly. “To break my heart?”

“No. To love you. To be loved by you.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. “How long do we have?”

“Not long,” Aja said, snuggling close to me beneath the blanket, my arms wrapped around her, clutching her, struggling to keep her from slipping away.

“It’s not fair. I thought we’d have more time,” I said.

“The time we had together was good.”

“Did you know it would end tonight?” I asked.

“No, not tonight. I’m like you with those mystery books you love. I try not to look ahead to the last page.”

“You should have looked.” I closed my eyes and fought for control. Every second was precious now. Because I knew I’d cling to every one of them for the rest of my life. I forced myself to recall what she’d told us in the car just before Bo had attacked. “Did your mother give you that name? Aja?”

“Yes. My father was away when I was born.”

“What does the name mean?”

With the tip of her finger, she touched between my eyebrows. “Two inches beneath that spot, inside your head, is the ‘Aja.’ ” Then she put her hand on my chest. “It’s also here. Aja is the spiritual eye through which the Big Person can be seen.”

“Did your mother know you would be born a saint?”

“I wasn’t born one.”

“What happened? How did you change?”

She spoke in a weary whisper. It was all she could manage. “Like I said, I was five years old when the cartel sent three men and a woman to kill my father. I was playing outside when they came. They carried machetes. My mother rushed to pick me up and carry me away but they stopped her. They herded the three of us inside. They’d come to kill my father. But they wanted him to suffer. They made him watch as they . . . they cut my mother’s throat.”

“Oh God.” I wanted to weep for that little girl. “They made you watch?”

“Yes. It was horrible. So horrible the child in this body—her mind, her identification with this body, even her sense of ‘I,’ they all fled and ran away and tried to hide and were lost. That’s how I was changed. Nothing was left of that girl. In the deepest way possible she became . . . no one.”

Aja stopped to struggle to catch her breath. The same way Bo had struggled. All of us had been so in awe of her healing ability but I couldn’t have hated it more right then.

“That was the day I became the Big Person,” Aja said.

“Why did the men let you live?”

“The woman felt the change in me. She felt something powerful enter the room. She dropped her machete and picked me up and carried me away, into the jungle.”

“And your father?”

“The men chopped him to pieces. The same with my mother. They left nothing behind. Nothing but blood.” Aja paused. “The woman who saved me was Angela. You saw her at the PTA meeting.”

I was stunned. “Principal Levitt’s lover?”

“Yes. Being there, at that moment, changed her.”

“She became psychic?”

“Yes. But I think for her, the gift was something of a curse.”

“She knew her daughter would die.”

“Yes.”

“From then on you lived mostly in the jungle?”

“Yes. It was more comfortable for me to be in nature than to be near people.” Aja nuzzled my cheek and I felt her dry lips. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I was happy after the Big Person came. I was always happy.”

I struggled to keep my voice from cracking.

“Are you happy now?” I asked.

She sighed. “Yes and no. I’m sad that you’re sad.”

“I’ve been sad most of my life. Why should it change?”

“That’s not true. Everything changed the day we met.”

I nodded, sniffed. “I’m sorry, Aja. Honestly, I’m happy you came into my life. And I’m happy just to hold you right now.”

“That’s better.” Her head fell back on my chest; she lacked the strength to hold it up. I could hear her heartbeat, could feel it slowing down. Taking her hand I squeezed it. She tried to squeeze mine back but she was too weak. It wouldn’t be long.

“What does the name ‘Fred’ mean?” she asked.

“ ‘He who loves goddesses.’ ”

“Really?”

“It does now.”

Aja smiled faintly, her eyes closing. “I knew I chose the right boy when I chose you.”

I felt a stab of fear; I shook her gently. “Don’t go, not yet. Please?”

Her eyes opened. “It’s okay, Fred. I’m going home.”

I felt a wave of panic sweep over me. It was a tidal wave but I was no ocean, not like Aja, and suddenly I felt as if I could not bear it. Tears burned my eyes. I pulled her closer.

“No! Wait!” I cried, losing all control, sobbing. “Please don’t go! Use your power! For God’s sake, Aja, heal yourself!”

“Shh, Fred. It’s okay. You will be okay.” Straining, using the last of her strength, she placed her hand over my heart. “I will be with you here. I will always be with you. I promise.”

My agony did not stop.

Yet somehow her touch made it bearable.

I leaned over and kissed her. “I love you.”

She closed her eyes and settled back on my chest.

“I love you,” she whispered.

She died minutes later.

EPILOGUE

TWIN AMBULANCES TOOK us to a nearby hospital—St. Vincent’s. I rode with Aja in the back. Janet stayed with her father. The paramedics who examined Aja were dismayed. They could find nothing wrong with her. No logical reason why she had died. They kept apologizing to me, telling me how sorry they were that they hadn’t attended to her from the start. I told them it wasn’t their fault. They covered Aja with a white sheet, from head to toe.

I was in shock.

At the hospital Aja’s body was taken to the morgue. I managed to get ahold of Bart. I told him they wanted to perform an autopsy. That it was the law. That they needed to find out exactly how she had died. Bart told me to wait and he would call me back in a few minutes. When he did he told me that his lawyer, Mr. Grisham, had made an “arrangement” with the hospital and they would no longer press for the autopsy. I assumed money or favors had changed hands.

While Bart drove from Elder, Janet and I were treated by a couple of competent ER doctors. They set my nose back in place, taped half my face, and did an MRI on my knee. I hadn’t torn any ligaments but they said I’d need arthroscopic surgery to remove three large chunks of frayed cartilage. I was given a pair of crutches to get around and a bottle of Vicodin for the pain. I swallowed a couple of the blue pills but didn’t feel any better.

Janet’s broken arm was more serious. The ER doctors called in a specialist to operate. She ended up needing a metal plate and a host of screws to stabilize the bone. While she was in surgery, Bart arrived and obtained the release of Aja’s body. The two of us spoke briefly about what we should do next and swiftly came to an agreement. A local mortuary was contacted to bring her body back home.

The ER doctors performed a dozen tests on Bo.

They never did find anything wrong with him.