A Child across the Sky

"Why didn't you go on living in Europe?"

Pulling up at a red light, I looked at her. "Because you have to come home sometime. The longer you're away, the harder it is to return. I wanted to come back to America, but not to the life I had before. That's why I went to New York."

Finky Linky put his head on Sasha's shoulder as I accelerated away from the light. "Tell her about your half/half theory. That has something to do with it too."

"Not really a theory. It's just that I'd like to live the second half of my life better than the first."

Simultaneously, the two of them said "What's 'better'?" and then laughed at the coincidence.

The trip to the beach was all sun, wind, and shouting. We couldn't agree on what good was, but everyone disagreed so vociferously that it was obvious each of us had a damned good idea of what we believed it was.

We arrived at Santa Monica jazzed up and ready to go. Wyatt took our things and told us to go ahead while he set everything up. We didn't need any more encouragement and ran straight out into the cold ocean. It was early afternoon in the middle of the week, and very few other people were around. We swam out from shore together until the waves were really bobbing us up and down.

"You look like a beautiful blond seal!"

"And you look like a lifeguard!"

She paddled over and, coming behind, wrapped her arms and legs around me.

"This was a great idea, Weber. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Look at Finky!"

Back on shore, Wyatt had taken off his shirt and was doing what looked like't'ai chi. The quick cold slap and pull of the water around us was such a contrast to the slow delicacy of his exercises.

"Give me a piggyback ride." She bit me on the back of the neck. I bent down and bit her on the arm, then began moving slowly through the water at an old man's pace. It felt good having her around me like that. It had been too long since I'd been with a woman and the press of breasts against my back, warm breath on my neck and ears. . . . Something would have to be done about that when this was over; it was time to find someone who mattered. Besides my masochistic love for Cullen James, the only women I had serious, intimate contact with were those in the Cancer Theater Group. Their needs were very different from mine. When I began working there, I made the mistake of sleeping with one but quickly and painfully learned that pity is not a good substitute for support.

"Do I feel heavier?"

"I don't know, Sash, I haven't given you many piggyback rides."

"You know – from the pregnancy. Maybe I just think I float better now."

"What did the doctor say about your being pregnant?"

"He said the conditions were strange but things like this have happened."

"How do you feel about it?"

"If it's Phil's child, I want it. It could only be his! I haven't slept with anyone else since you and I were together in Vie

I paddled us out a ways. There were so many things I wanted to tell her and talk about with her.

"Weber! Look at that, over there!" She pointed off to our right. Coming up from behind a flipping wave was the large golden head of a dog. It moved fast toward us, head straining hard out of the water. Sasha let go of me and I went for the dog, thinking it must have fallen off some boat and been swimming since.

"Here, boy!" I tried to whistle but got a mouthful of salty water instead. It saw me but wasn't interested. Sasha called and it saw her too, but no thanks. The dog (it looked like a vizsla or golden retriever) paddled by both of us and kept right on going. We looked at each other and made the same face – What can you do?

Treading water where we were, we could only watch.

"I thought it was drowning!"

"It sure didn't want our help. The loneliness of the long-distance swimmer."

Reaching shore, it trotted right out of the surf, looking supremely successful. One good shake and it was on its way again down the beach.

Sasha laughed. "I love that! Where did it come from?"

"Neptune."

She beamed. "Yes, Neptune's dog. Right!"

I moved over and took her in my arms. She hugged me. "That's so mysterious! It just came out of nowhere and didn't want to have a thing to do with us."

"Mysteries of the deep."

"Sometimes they're nice. Let's swim some more. I want another piggyback."

When we got back, Wyatt had laid everything out and was on his back su

"What's the matter, Finky Linky?"

"I always like the idea of sunta

I sat down next to him. "Isn't the idea to relax and let the sun do the work?"

He sat up, saw how wet I was, and moved away. "The idea that people spend hundreds of dollars so they can sit in the sun and sweat is beyond me.

"Look at what our friend made for lunch."

While we ate, Sasha told him about the dog. I'd thought it was a fu

We spent the day at the beach trying as subtly as possible to keep Sasha happy. When she laughed we wanted her to laugh more, louder, longer. We told stories and jokes and moved around as if putting the show on right here. Maybe we were. Sasha was really one of the good ones, a person who deserved every bit of our energy and concern. We knew she appreciated whatever we did and, if necessary, would give it back in duplicate one day. That's why she and Phil had gone so well together. They were both inordinately generous people who, quite touchingly, never really realized why their friends liked them so much.

At dusk we took a long walk down the beach. People were walking their dogs; lovers held hands and looked even more romantic than usual; a surfer missed a wave, and his board, flying up in the air, caught the orange of the setting sun and threw it over us a moment. On our left side, the ocean was all pound and rush. On our right, cars hissed by on the Pacific Coast Highway. A distant helicopter arched across the horizon.

Wyatt was an exceptional mimic and had done most of the voices for the creatures on The Finky Linky Show. Walking down the beach, we kept asking him to do Fiti, Elbow, Pearl, and the others. The fu

After one of the voices demanded and got a round of applause from us, Wyatt stopped and, taking Sasha's arm, pulled her to him. She looked at him but he only shook his head and put his hand behind her back.

"What's your name, dear?"

Sasha opened her mouth, but before anything came out a voice very much like her own said, "Mrs. Bubble."

"Where do you come from, Mrs. Bubble?"

"The sea. I am her sea self."

"Did you know you had a sea self?"

Gri

The next day Wyatt and I had two appointments. The first was with the man who had taken over as producer of Midnight Kills. Our meeting with him was short and to the point. We told him we'd be willing to edit M.K. and, if necessary (I wanted to leave that door open), rewrite and film a scene to replace the one that had disappeared since the deaths of Strayhorn and Portland.