Part 8 (2/2)
”Well, yes. Up until now, your only interest in conversing with me was to complain and accuse me of short-circuiting your business. Remember?”
”Let's just say, I'm turning over a new leaf.”
She noticed Sam perusing the shelves again. When he reached for a baseball-shaped clock radio, she said, ”Hands off, b.u.t.terfingers. You're not going to make enough at that bakery to restock this place.”
He turned and wiggled his eyebrows at her, pretending to continue to reach, teasing her. She glared back at him, then turned to Ping and said, ”So what do you guys want to talk about?”
”Do you have somewhere we can sit and talk?” Ping asked.
”There's a table and chairs in the back.”
She led them to a plastic picnic set in a corner of the bike garage. Bruce was gone for the day, so they had the place to themselves. They sat and Mara folded her hands in front of her on the table.
”So?” she said.
Ping looked up as if trying to catch a thought and said, ”What do you remember about the flight before it went down?”
”Do we need to talk about that?”
”Please humor me.”
She sighed. ”The plane took off. There was a weird light.” She pointed at Sam. ”I saw him running down the aisle to the back of the plane, carrying something. He got knocked down and something dragged him back up the aisle. He got up and continued to the back. I went after him and when I turned around, I saw...”
”What? What did you see?”
”Nothing.”
”You didn't see nothing! Don't be a hag, tell him!” Sam said. Ping put a hand on his arm.
”A hag?” Mara looked at the boy, more amused than offended. She'd been called a lot of names before but never a hag.
”What did you see?”
”I don't remember.”
”I was there! Tell him who you saw when you turned around. Who was behind you? I saw her too. Tell him,” Sam said.
Ping raised an eyebrow but made a point of speaking at a lower volume. ”Who did you see on the plane?”
Mara stared at them trying to decide what to say, what she wanted to say. Sam stared back, slightly bug-eyed. She waved her hands in surrender.
”Me,” she said. ”I thought I saw me. Satisfied?”
”Not thought, did. You did see her.”
”What's it matter to you if I say it or not? You were there, you know what happened.”
Sam was about to answer but was interrupted when Ping put a hand on his shoulder. The boy sat back in his chair. Ping leaned in, a little closer to Mara.
”Mara, something very unusual happened on that plane. Something that none of us fully understands, but I think it is important that we try to wrap our minds around it. Now, if you will, instead of you talking about what happened to you, let me tell you what happened to me on that flight. Maybe it will help you to understand some of this. Okay?”
”I suppose. Go ahead.”
”The Ping that got on that flight with you is not me,” he said, pausing to see if she followed his reasoning.
She stared at him but did not speak.
”I have never owned a ceramics shop.”
”Let me guess. You have a bakery.”
”No. I'm a professor at Reed College, just down the road. Anyway, I got on a flight to San Francisco to attend a conference, and the flight took off normally. As the flight gained alt.i.tude after takeoff, the entire plane seemed to go into a state of flux where I could see what looked like multiple overlapping versions of the pa.s.senger cabin, sort of like a bad print of something that was misaligned, out of register. For a few minutes, I thought I was having a seizure or hallucination. Everything skewed strangely. It did not appear people around me were having the same experience. Slowly things realigned. At the instant everything synced up, I found myself in the Columbia River with the rest of the pa.s.sengers and the wreckage of the plane floating downriver.
”Sam helped me to the riverbank. You see, I can't swim. From that point on, everything and everyone I have encountered has been out of sync. The world as I know it is different from this one.” He paused for a minute and raised his eyebrows when Mara did not speak.
”What?” Mara asked.
”Don't you have anything to say?” he said.
”What do you want me to say? Obviously, you had a traumatic experience on the plane. It's normal to be confused. It will sort itself out eventually.”
Sam snorted.
”Mara, do you think I need to sort out things or do you?” Ping asked.
”Both of us. It was a jarring, life-threatening experience. It's not surprising that you, or me for that matter, might be confused about what happened.”
”I understand the inclination to dismiss this as a delusion. I did the same, and, if it was just you and me here recalling our experiences, I'd probably agree. But how do you explain him?” Ping asked, pointing at Sam.
”What do you mean?” Mara asked.
”How did he get on your flight? He was not with you when your plane took off. You only saw him after it took off, correct?”
”As far as I know. And I didn't see his name in the pa.s.senger list in the newspaper. Maybe Sam isn't even his real name.”
Sam and Ping looked at each other and then back at Mara.
”You know that's not true,” Sam said.
”How would I know?”
”Because I'm your brother, doofus.”
<script>