Ron picked Em up at the airport, wondering at the request to do so. She usually avoided crowds and the media, but this time she deliberately courted attention, allowed herself to be recognized. Hello, how are you? Oh, what a lovely dress. Where did you get the cool purse? Yes, of course you can take a picture. Ah, now here's a cutie. How old is she? Young man, that's the best question anyone has ever asked me. She squatted down to talk to the children, shook hands with the adults, and high fived the teens. All this from the woman who never acknowledged that she had an audience.
*
After dinner, Em sat with Ron in comfortable silence before the fireplace, leaning against the sofa, watching the flames dance.
“You’re tired Em.”
“Yes. Very.”
“You should quit.”
She jerked away from him. What did he know? Had Powers told him? Surely not. “Why did you say that?”
“I worry about you, that’s all.”
Em frowned, started to say something, stopped, started again, but then settled back without speaking.
*
For a moment Em thought Ron knew about my promise. The promise Mentor had made on my behalf that is, using my voice, a promise made without my consent. But then, when did my opinion count for anything? At least I had convinced Mentor to stop all the dreams. Em would no longer suffer in either life from memories of her “other” self.
I heard Ron smother a sigh. It was all so frustrating for him, of course. He knew Em would do what she had to, despite his wishes. Still, he couldn’t help but dream of a life with her, just as I couldn’t help but dream of a life with Em.
“What's wrong with Ron?” Elspeth asked. “He looks dreadfully sad.”
And how do I look? As bad? Worse? I sighed. “He's dreaming of what he can't have.”
“And Em? What does she dream?”
“Ron’s dream is hers. To be together. Sometimes. She used to dream of her own life, before Mentor took those dreams away.” My voice broke. “But, how could she ever return to the ordinary day to day world after what I’ve put her through?”
Elspeth wiped a tear from her eye. “What will you do?”
I couldn’t tell her. The promise ... and, worse, what would come before it...
*
“Em, I know you’re tired, but before you fall asleep I have to say this. What you did at the Summit was….” Ron paused. “I don’t know how to describe it; it was just so different.”
“That may just be some of my best work.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that.”
“Why? Because it wasn’t particularly dramatic?”
“I guess.”
“But Ron, this time I was able to help others plan and problem-solve. It didn’t involve guns and blood and pain and death. Imagine that. These people will create a positive legacy for the future. It’s wonderful.”
“Essentially, you’re doing yourself out of a job.”
“That would be ideal wouldn’t it, for the world to have no need of me or anyone like me.”
“I’m still amazed that you were able to get bitter enemies to look after each other’s children. That was brilliant.”
“A spur of the moment inspiration I thought was harebrained, but it seems to be working. I’m kind of proud of that, I must admit.”
“You should be,” he muttered grudgingly. Em shifted to look up at him. He loved her, but she knew too, that he often felt inadequate and envious.
“I couldn’t have done it, any of it, without you,” she said.
*
“He’s upset.” Elspeth said. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong with him?” Elspeth had seen Ron stiffen as Em spoke, felt the ball of anger that formed in the pit of his stomach. “He knows she’s lying. That’s it. He wants to believe she needs him, but she doesn’t really.” Elspeth patted my arm. “Not when she has you.”
“He’ll get over it.”
We watched as Em pulled his head down for a kiss. He didn’t notice the knot of anger dissolve. Who could stay angry at her anyway?
Elspeth sighed. She was such a softy.
*
“The Summit can't have been easy,” Ron said.
“Do you think it will work?”
“I certainly hope so, but I can’t control what happens now.”
“You wish you could. Control more, I mean.”
“Yes, I’m that conceited.”
“I don’t see it as conceit, Em.”
“What then, arrogance? Do you remember how angry I was about the renewed fighting in the Middle East?”
“How could I forget?”
Em blushed, but made no attempt to avoid his eyes. “I was angry that they were fighting again, but more to the point, I was furious that they hadn’t listened to me. I had already been there twice and still they dared to defy me. Tell me I'm not purely arrogant.”
“Perhaps you are,” Ron said. “You know, I often wonder how surgeons are able to do their work. They slice people open and mess about with their insides, their spines, their brains and sew them up again. I think it must take supreme arrogance to do that.
“Are you saying I’m like that?” Em's voice rose.
“Sure, you slice open the ugliness of human activity and mess around putting it right and then leave us to heal.”
“But I could be making colossal mistakes.” God this is so scary. Em felt bereft and fragile even with Ron right beside her.
“So do doctors sometimes, but mostly they do it right. And you do too. You’d realize that if you didn’t worry so much. You couldn’t do any of it without a level of self-assurance. Maybe that is arrogance, but if it is, it’s good arrogance.”
“You’re too kind.” Em patted Ron’s knee and stared at the flames.
Em shifted restlessly and Ron asked, “You have done so many things in so many places. Is there any one that stands out, that is the best?”
“Anywhere you are.”
“Ah Em,” Ron sighed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“The Sahara. The vast nothingness forces me to see the truth. It allows no compromises, no avoidance of issues. It’s pure honesty.”
“Em, what you said before about war.” Ron hesitated.
“I’m sure I shouldn’t ask this, but I feel compelled to.”
“I have come to believe that what I am doing is right or I wouldn’t have been given the clout to do it. I just hope that the Powers know what they are doing and that I have used their wisdom well.”
“Powers, powers, powers. Jesus, will you ever explain?”
“Dear, dear Ron. I'd tell you if I could.” She paused.
“I'll ask them next time.”
“About your regular life?” he ventured after a long silence.
“How much do you remember now?”
She thought of the last dream she’d had before they stopped altogether.
Training conditions didn’t allow for jewelry. She pulled at the ring, surprised when it released her finger. It glowed, shooting rainbows of light about the unarmed-combat room. After class, as she removed her gi and folded it, the ring fairly leapt at her, demanding to be put back on her finger. The light faded. She felt faint and reached to the wall for support.
Her hand closed around a withered tobacco plant. Miles of the half dead plants to her right, rot- blackened corn to her left, untended wheat fields behind and wasteland in front. A tractor stripped bare, the carcass rusted and twisted, trees chopped haphazardly, barns and houses ransacked and burned. Brown bodies of both sexes and all sizes scouring the fields for food, grains, nuts, roots, and rats. Without looking up they began an undulating keening wail, the cadence rising and falling eerily. The tone changed gradually and she could hear one word only, repeated over and over; Ma dame, Ma dame, Ma dame…. She covered her ears and screwed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw in a desperate effort to escape the magnetic pull of the chant.
“Em?” Ron shook her gently. “Em?”
“I am Miracle Madame. This is my life now.”
“But, before, you were so excited when you remembered.”
“I know. But, whatever my other life was... it's over.”
“Can you live with that?”
“I have to,” she replied shakily.
A wave of shame swept over Ron because he was infinitely relieved that she didn’t remember, that he didn’t have to share her and would have said so if she hadn’t been so tired, hadn’t looked so bereft and vulnerable.
“Em, you always refer to the powers but you’ve never explained and always avoided my questions.”
“I asked if I could tell you about them and they said yes. Powers are beings that control the universe. They find people like me and give us the job of trying to better our planets. Heaven only knows why they chose me, but they did. They controlled what I did, and helped me to learn how to do the job they gave me.”
Ron pulled away from her. “Em, get real. Super beings? You make it sound like there are some kinds of gods out there running the show.”
He gestured wildly. You’re the last person I would think would fall for a line like that.”
“They said you wouldn’t believe me. I said you would.”
“How can I?” He rose and paced the room. “Jesus, Em. Beings that contact you, talk to you, control the universe? That’s too sci-fi, even for Hollywood.”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter if you don’t believe.” It did matter; it mattered a lot. She wanted him to believe, to know what she knew. She waited for some sign of acceptance, a sign that never came, stifled a sigh, and swiped at threatening tears. She couldn’t let him see how sad she was or know how alone she felt at that moment. “Would you do an interview for me?” she blurted out.
“An interview? Sure. Of course.” His tone said it all; angry, hurt, and frustrated but willing to do whatever she asked.
“I’d do anything for you, Em. But why not do an interview yourself?”
“What would I talk about? My favorite foods, my favorite movies?” She waved her hand dismissively.
“And what shall I tell them?”
A laugh choked by a sob escaped her. “Anything but the intimate bits.”
*
The glare of the studio lights irritated Ron. He’d had about enough of this interview and wanted out, but he'd promised Em and it was almost over, thank God.
“Ron, can you shed any light on the three big questions: the variety of languages she speaks, how she travels, her immunity to harm?
“She didn’t tell me much. She is not an alien or a robot. She is a real person with special powers.”
“But where do those powers come from?” Johnston asked. “Does she have access to special technologies? How does she do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you asking us, then, to believe she’s a sort of wonder woman?”
“I guess. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“You spent time with her, you must have some clues,” Johnston insisted.
Ron just shook his head wearily.
“I can’t believe you weren’t curious. I mean, how could you just accept without questioning?”
“Yes, I was curious. And, I asked. Believe me, I asked. And, yes, I accept that I will never know everything.”
“But, why? Why didn’t you push for answers?”
Because I love her, you idiot. Because she loves me. Because I’d do anything for her. Because my children love her too. Because that’s just the way it is. Because she controls me.
“Ron? Mr. Conlin?”
“I have no idea how or why she is able to do what she does.” Unless I choose to believe what she said about the Powers. “Does it really matter?”
“Yes, it matters,” Johnston almost shouted. “We want to know.”
Suck it up, buddy. Ron caught himself. He knew directing his anger and frustration at Johnston was unreasonable. But really, they didn’t need to know everything. I don’t need to know everything. “I wish there was more I could tell you,” Ron said.
“Sorry.”
“Do you even know where she lives?” Johnston was almost begging. He seemed desperate for some tidbit to give the audience.
“No.” Had to be somewhere close to a military base though, she trained with soldiers.
“One final question, Mr. Conlin.” Johnson sounded tense, angry.
“You came here today prepared to talk about her. Can you tell us why she agreed and why now?
Ron straightened with shock. Jesus! Fuck! No. No, I can’t. Why had she asked him to do this interview now? What did it mean?