The Miraculous Plot of Leiter & Lott (42 page)

CR:)
 
Okay, Valerie, are you going to tell me what it is that you want, if not a raise?

VL:)
 
Just to have a conversation. Since we've never really had one before.

CR:)
 
But we have talked before. Don't you remember?

VL:)
 
Only on the phone. Never here. Never real.

CR, resettling herself after sipping her tea, expansively:)
 
Okay, now's our chance, then. What would you like to talk about?

(Val looks up at the ceiling, then out at the pool, and finally over at the writing table)

VL:)
 
Do you talk to your son much?

CR:)
 
Mark?
 
Of course I do. He's a senior at the University. A political science major.

VL:)
 
Is that who he is?

CR:)
 
Is this a question?

VL:)
 
Do you know his friend Brent?

CR:)
 
My son has many friends, I'm sure.

VL:)
 
Is that an answer?
 
(a pause)
It's been said that people rarely change unless something dramatic forces them to see things with a new perspective.

CR:)
 
Is this what happened to you, Valerie?

VL:)
 
Yes.

CR, smiling slightly to herself:)
 
I see.
 
(She takes another sip of tea)
 
You want my opinion?

VL:)
 
I want to hear anything you have to say.

CR:)
 
I think what you're doing is commendable, actually. You've been through an ordeal, and revealed an entirely new kind of hero for us to marvel at. No superpowers or magic involved there, though, for sure.
 
No machismo, no bulging muscles.
 
Far as I can tell, he's nothing but a pacifist who resisted evil with just his innocence as a weapon.

VL:)
 
But he didn't resist, Mrs. Robinson.

CR:)
 
Because resistance would be futile?
 
Is that what you mean to say?

VL:)
 
I don't mean to say anything. It's the only way to say what you mean.

CR, smiling:)
 
Another riddle.

VL:)
 
Not when you understand that resistance is the cousin of evil. And that evil is only the truth, twisted. In fear of itself.
 

CR:)
 
So if David didn't resist this evil, then what did he do?
 

VL:)
 
He asked the same questions he'd asked himself.
 
The questions I'm asking with Time Out. Then he listened and waited.

CR:)
 
Waited for what?

VL:)
 
For the truth. Except it wasn't really waiting. Not like those who wait in line at the post office.

CR:)
 
But tell me, though. Don't you think what's so attractive about David's story is that anyone can do what he's done, and be who he is?

VL:)
 
No one can do what he's done, or be who he is. You can only be yourself, and only when you no longer think about what's attractive, or become obsessed with how your story might turn out.

CR:)
 
You mean you don't think about your own story, anymore?
 
How it might turn out, if David doesn't wake up?
 
(a pause; she smiles slyly)
 
Don't you want a fairy tale ending, at least, Valerie? Or a fairy tale wedding with a big ring? Because, you know, Greg told me you've had a job offer from the Associated Press.
 
Something about covering science and religion as a reporter?

(A pause as Val lifts her purse and takes out Sarah Collins' journal, which resembles David's.
 
She holds it out, but Claire only stares at it)

CR:)
 
What's this?

VL:)
 
Nothing you should be afraid of, anymore.
 

(Curiously, Claire takes the journal, and places it on her lap, the fingers of both hands then lightly touching the cover)
 

CR:)
 
Does this belong to you now?

VL:)
 
I don't own it. But then I don't really own anything, do I?
 

(Claire looks out at her pool.
 
There is a gardener trimming the hedge along the wall behind the gazebo.)

CR:)
 
So are you thinking of taking the AP job, or not, Valerie?

(Camera settles on Val's face as she looks past Claire into the distance.
 
Finally it pans slowly to focus on the gazebo outside, where Val stares as she replies:)

VL:)
 
I am now.

(Fade.)

Once above a time there lived a woman for whom life stood still. In this stillness she resided, and for her true self decided she did not need to know what she once thought. Her given name was Valerie Lott, but in deeper way it was not.
 
This she learned, when the past lost its hold. When the future, for her, was emptied and exposed.
 

The letter she never read revealed to others some of the facts they sought:
 
That a man named
Leiter
quit a job for which others fought. Before he obtained a patent used by defense contractors, he was a high school runner, a marathoner. An only child who grew to excel in science and math. An MIT grad who once tutored jocks and read books in coffee shops. Here was a devoted husband and son, they declared, who loved and lost, and also listened to jazz and Bach. With no criminal affair to uncover, they shook their heads in wonder to discover that he'd given control of his estate to his dead wife's brother--a friend who supported his plan to help others. It must have been all this friend could do, they concluded, to prevent him from donating his house, too.

In anticipation of arraignment, the lawyers compared notes. They discussed the relationships, and rendered their votes. With no DNA samples or forensics to include, they prepared a case file from which others might conclude. Signed, sealed and delivered, this final report was labeled. It detailed their billings as a matter of course.

When finally paid, at last they felt good. And so they went to Happy Hour.
 
Then home to sleep as soon as they could.

Val was eating a cheese sandwich in her studio when the door opened. And then the only man she knew beyond name or story stepped into the room. He was a man whose touch was no mystery, even though his loving hand she had yet to feel.

Having already traversed cosmic distances in bridging the frontier to her soul, the man did not say a word, as she rose. There was no need to speak. No time for her to consider the awakening that had come. No time at all, but only acceptance in place of fear, awareness instead of confusion. She knew, as she crossed to him, that whatever he would say, for the record or not, she would not be alone in hearing it. Just as she would never be alone again.
 

David was still smiling that gentle smile of his as he glanced around him and asked, “What happens now?”

A tear fell from Val's cheek when the answer came to her, and she whispered:
“Everything.”