Sleeping in Flame

"Make a tape and send it to him."

"Something more than that. His whole life is gone, Walker. The closest I ever came to that feeling was when Luc chased me around Munich. It's misery every day. Being in here is dreamy compared to that."

"In your tape tell him to call a guy named Michael Billa. I'll give you the number."

"Who's Michael Billa?"

"A man I know out there. They'll like each other."

"How do you know he didn't get killed in the earthquake?"

"I . . . talked to him the other day. Believe me, Maris. They're right for each other."

"Hmm. You're not telling me something. Your mouth is too flat. It always gets flat when you have a secret."

I kissed her forehead and smiled like a politician.

"I know you, Walker. You're holding lots of things back from me these days. Aren't you?"

"Not so many."

"Enough. What's happening with the bicycle nut? Did you find out anything new?"

"I think he's lying low. Wants me to think about that Mr. Pencil bit awhile."

"What about your dreams? Anything new happening there?"

"Nope."

"Your mouth is tight again."

"Maris, you've got enough to think about now. I'm not holding back anything I can't handle. Sure, the dreams are continuing, and I worry about the bicycle man, but that's not new. You're my greatest concern. You and our child are most important. If you want to help me, take care of yourself. Ingram's letter says it right. Our earthquake was your getting sick. But we've still got a chance to beat it. I'm not trying to sound patronizing, but if you can hold on and keep steady till you're well, then we're going to be able to say 'Fuck you, earthquake. Our lives are our own, not yours.'"

I knew no one named Michael Billa. His name and telephone number slid into my mind the way "fist to chin" slid in the day at the train station. I only knew that when Billa and Ingram York got together they would fall in love.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I'm looking for the children's section."

"Two aisles down on the right. Is there anything special I can help with?"

"I'd like to see whatever editions of Grimm's Fairy Tales you have."

"There are a few there. I'm sure of it."

I walked down past the fiction. The new Stephen King novel, Flash and Blood (translated as Schmerz in German) stopped me and I thought to buy it. But reading the German title (Pain) reminded me of how far off translations can be. In homage to King, I decided to wait until the English version arrived in town.

The children's section was small but loaded with those tall, thin, mostly picture books that cost so much and give a kid so little after one or two reads. Ten dollars for eleven words on each page about a lost ball that finds its way home.

Cramped in next to them here and there were standard editions of the classics. Hans Christian Andersen, Perrault, Wilhelm Busch's Max und Moritz. As a child I didn't read much, but the books I remembered were these and other oldies that gave you real worlds, rather than long pages, bright colors, and tepid climaxes.

There were two copies of Grimms: one for little readers and the other a no-frills/no-pictures copy printed in the old German script. I chose the second. Remembering Buck's story about the definitive edition found in the Цlenberg Monastery, I turned to the front of the book to see if this was one of them.

"This is what you're looking for."

I turned, knowing the voice. He had trimmed his beard and was wearing a dark blue double-breasted suit that was the twin to one I owned.

"Nice suit."

He looked pleased. "I thought so too after I saw you in yours. Like son, like father."

"Why are you regular size now?"

"Change. Something different. A new perspective. Do you want this book or not? I bought it for you, so you might as well take it. I already know the story." When he smiled, his teeth were white and straight.

"New teeth too?"

"Don't you like them?" He curled his hand into a fist, a familiar fist, and put it to his chin. When he smiled again his teeth and mouth were the brown graveyard I remembered. "Better?"

"Why are you here?"

"You keep wanting to talk to me, Walter. I thought I'd let you do it once." He shot his cuff and looked at a gold wristwatch. "You have five minutes."

"That's not enough, it's too fast. You should give me time to think of what I want to ask you."

"I don't have to give you shit, son. You want to talk to me? Do it now."

"Did you make Maris bleed?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To remind you of certain things."

"Will you leave her alone if I go with you?"

"I'll leave both her and the child alone. It's a boy, in case you were wondering. He'll look more like her than you, if he ever grows up."

"Why would you hurt them? What's the point?"

"Why would you hurt me, boy? That's a better point. I've given you every chance in the world. But this is the first time you've ever known exactly what's happening, so this time it's the finale.

"You stay and try to be human, then I stop you. If you come back to me, you'll leave a happy widow and child. Your son will grow up thinking lovely thoughts about his dead daddy, and your wife will never remarry. She's very much in love with you. This time you chose well. Not like the Greek woman."

"Did you do that to Lillis?"

"Yes. You have a minute and a half."

"What if I go with you?"

"First you die here. We get out of this world and take you back where you belong. Then I'll have to show you again how to become your real self. The self you should be."

"You said in one of the dreams that our place is Vie

"Another Vie

"What if I say no?"

"You won't. You love Maris too much. That's one of the good parts in you. Once you realize there's no choice, you'll come home."

"What will happen if I don't?"

"Maris will die and I'll take the child. There'll be nothing you can do about it, either. Bye-bye.

"No, don't touch me! Until you know my name, your magic only works on them. Sometimes. That once in my room when I couldn't see you was a joke. Don't take it as any sign. That's why I want you to come home. I want to teach you all the things you've forgotten." He touched my shoulder gently. "The first lesson will be to find out what Papa's name is."

"How long do I have?"

"A month."

"Will you leave us alone until then? Completely alone. No tricks, no spying . . ."

He looked at me. "Yes, that's fair. I'll leave you completely alone. No, I'll give you until your birthday. That's twenty-six days. I'll give you twenty-six days alone to say good bye. That should be long enough."

I carried the new monitor into the living room and co

The names of the computer programs sounded like buzz words on the Starship Enterprise: "V-Ram." "Copy Star." "Signum."

"I think we should put up the V-Ram shields, Mr. Spock. We're coming to Signum."

"It's only a copy star, sir. Nothing to worry about."

In the middle of these space names appeared "DEGAS."

"'DEGAS'? What are you doing here?"

I fed the disc into the computer and turned it on. It was one of Maris's art programs. After much fiddling around I managed to bring up from its memory drawings of buildings and cities she'd done.

What talent she had! Talent and humor and a truly distinctive way of interpreting the world. She didn't like to show work that wasn't finished and would have been angry if she knew I was snooping in her files. But I excused myself on the spot and continued looking.