Michelangelo's Shoulder Part 5

"Yes." It hurt to think about it. He was still disoriented. The diner had appeared in the night like a miracle. "We all got troubles, I guess," he said to break the silence.

"What's her name?"

"Heidi," he said, surprised. The name tore through him.

"Heidi, huh." The waitress took a drag from her cigarette. "You're a good looking guy. She good looking?"

He could have said, not like you, but he didn't have it in him. He nodded.

"It's hard sometimes," she said. "I don't mean to be telling you what to do, but you might feel better if you cleaned up a little, got those pieces of leaf or whatever out of your hair." Will reached up and felt the back of his head.

"I slept in the woods a couple of hours."

"You look it. Your mother'd give you h.e.l.l."

"Don't have a mother."

"Oh. I _am_ a nosy b.i.t.c.h."

"You're not a b.i.t.c.h," Will said. It was important to get something right. "You're not a b.i.t.c.h. I was at a concert. We were."

"You and Heidi."

"And a bunch of her friends. It was at Cornell. String quartet. I had to wear a tie."

"Guess you got rid of the tie."

"It's in the car--with the rest of the uniform. I'm in the service, the Air Force. Only dress up clothes I had."

"My brother was in the Navy twenty years. Gets a check now, every month."

"I won't make twenty."

"I've never been to a quartet," she said. "Cornell is big bucks."

"The music was great. Haydn. But her friends were laughing at me.

What's Heidi doing with an airman? They don't see too many airmen at Cornell. We've been together since we were fifteen--high school."

"Oh, Jesus," the waitress said, "first time's the worst."

"She didn't say anything, but I saw it in her eyes--just like I saw she was going to be mine when I asked her in the hallway to go roller skating." Will shook his head. "I didn't even know _how_ to roller skate. She looked down and then she looked up and her eyes said yes and then she said, yes. And that was that. Five years ago."

The waitress took a last drag and stubbed out her cigarette. "You want something to eat?"

"I don't think so."

"You sure? Piece of toast?"

"Well--toast, maybe." Heidi's friends surrounded him. Their faces were soft and excited, sure of themselves. They wore expensive sweaters and sports jackets. They seemed to belong to a club where everything was taken care of.

The waitress set a plate of toast in front of him. He took one bite and then another. "Tastes good."

"You gotta eat," she said.

"I drank a lot of beer, after. Heidi had to go back to her dorm. I was on this path near where the car was parked, and I just lay down in the path. When I woke up, there was a roaring and a weird light in the trees. It was a power plant or something that fired up in the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep, so I found the car. I just wanted to get out of there."

"Get moving," she said. "I know it's easy to say--but it might be it's for the best. People do go in different directions."

"Maybe," Will said. "Maybe she'll marry one of those rich guys and live happily ever after."

The sky outside the window had turned from black to light gray.

"Getting light." He left a ten dollar bill on the counter. "Thanks for the company."

"You stop in next time by, you hear?"

"O.K. What's your name?"

"Lee."

"O.K., Lee. I'll do that. I'm Will. Take it easy."

The car started right up, that was one good thing. He drove off, adjusting the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of the diner before he went around a curve. He and Heidi had made a whole, and now she was gone. He drove, and, as the daylight grew stronger, he thought about the diner--that little room of light in the dark, Lee, and the man talking about his box. That was something you could hang on to.

Guayaquil

At the sound of wooden blocks struck together, Arthur adjusted his sitting position and emptied his mind. The echo diminished to a memory and changed to a tree. A palm tree. Not this again. An expanse of empty beach curved to a familiar headland. Sometimes his grandmother would appear, coming toward him on her fitness walk, legs moving quickly, scarcely bending at the knees, like the birds that chased and retreated at the water's edge. She never noticed him.

This morning Penn stepped from the water and approached, his long thin body tanned ivory brown, his eyes blue-green, clear as a cat's. Things came easy to Penn. Arthur exhaled the past and inhaled it again. Not that way, he told himself. No struggle. Let it float away. He straightened and followed his breathing. Penn disappeared as casually as he had twenty years ago.

Arthur put his cheek against the palm tree. The bark was like cloth, raspy and flexible, wrapped around and around the heart of the tree.

Someday, years of balmy weather would be violently interrupted. This tree, which grew in sand, would have to bend horizontal or be uprooted.

Arthur exhaled the satisfaction that attended this insight. No attachment.

When the blocks sounded again, he stood and walked with the others around the zendo, careful not to look at Martin for approval. He wasn't sure why Martin was hard on him. Martin was enlightened, but wisdom hadn't erased narrow lines in his face, resentful lines. Arthur was respected in the scientific community, well paid. Martin had been an insurance adjuster or something before he found his vocation. He had shaved his head, but the cheap haircut remained.

The blocks signalled and sitting resumed, the group settling into a shared breathing. A quiet euphoria rose and faded, replaced by an edgy pre-verbal clarity. Kwok! Over. Arthur rejoined the world of choice and demand. He felt that he was making progress.

"Excuse me." The elderly woman who had been directly in front of him as they walked around the room was blocking his way. "Are you Arthur Wells? Dr. Arthur Wells?"

"Why, yes." He raised his eyebrows modestly.

"Forgive me for intruding," she said. "My niece insisted that I ask.