Millions of people adding to the harmony, imagining the world at peace.
“It is pretty inspiring,” Rhiannon says.
I tell her my theory about the balance between right and wrong, and how we’re adding our weight to the right side.
“I like that,” she says. Then, for the final verse, we both sing along.
When it’s over, there’s more cheering.
“Let’s go in there. We’ll find a quiet spot.”
We head inside the American history museum, and find an alcove where there’s a display of adding machines that isn’t getting much foot traffic. When Rhiannon says she has to run to the restroom, I ask if I can use her phone. She doesn’t ask me why, just unlocks it and hands it over. I call the hotel where Rudy’s family is staying and leave a message for his parents, saying everything’s fine, and that I’ll be back by dinnertime.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to patch you through to the room?” the hotel operator asks.
“Nooooo,” I tell her. “This is fine.” Then I hang up.
The phone buzzes almost immediately—I’m expecting it’s hotel security, tracking me down for my parents. But instead it’s a text from Alexander: Hope you’re feeling better. We want to come and find you.
When Rhiannon returns, I hand over the phone and tell her why I needed it.
“You also got a text,” I say.
She reads it, looks back up at me.
“I texted them that the crowds were getting to me and that I needed to separate myself and sit down. But I do have to meet up with them again. I don’t want to miss it entirely. I mean, I want to be in some of their stories, you know. But I was thinking—you could come with me.”
“You think so?”
“Sure—why not? We can say we met in the museum, both taking a break. What’s your name?”
“Rudy.”
“And where are you from, Rudy?”
“Manila.”
“As in—?”
“The Philippines.”
“I hope you’re not flying back tonight.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
She looks at me strangely. “How many people have you been talking to?”
“Two. But we’re two for two now, as far as that comment’s concerned.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“You didn’t notice me following you, because I was never really that close. So I couldn’t really hear what you were saying. But in that last room, the one with all of the Rothko paintings, something happened. What was it?”
“I saw them, and I also saw myself. X—Poole—asked me to find someone in a photo or a painting who looked like me. What I imagine me to be. But nothing clicked until I saw those paintings. I know it sounds weird….”
“No, it doesn’t sound weird at all.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No. I feel the same way. That’s my favorite room in the whole museum. We have this whole landscape that’s our physical self, and other artists paint that. But when it comes to our inner landscape, our thoughts and our emotions—I think that’s where we get Rothko and Picasso and even O’Keeffe, who can paint a flower and make you feel like it’s the one that’s blooming in your rib cage. So I guess what I’m trying to say is: When you feel that way about the Rothkos, don’t think it’s because you’re different. It’s something we all can feel.”
“Okay,” I say. “That’s good to know.”
“Guess he’s not the only one who can teach you something today.”
I smile. “No, he’s not.”
She kisses me. “Alrighty, then. Should we find my friends?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Correct.”
“Why don’t you know?”
“Because I’m not sure I can treat you like a stranger I just met. Your friends will see through that. I’ll slip. And you’re going to be on guard, too, if I’m there. Completely on guard. Especially with Alexander there. You’re not going to be comfortable with me, and I’m not going to be comfortable with you. I get it—I know if there’s ever going to be a good opportunity to hang out with you and your friends, it’s an event like this, where everyone is mixing together so naturally. I love that you think we’re ready for that. But I’m not sure we’re ready for that.”
“I guess it seemed like a good idea when it was just in my head,” Rhiannon concedes. “I just have to get back to them, but I want to be with you, too. Especially since we haven’t really talked about all the implications of you being so friendly with someone who could easily be dangerous—did you call him X?”
“It’s short for Xenon.”
“Was he named after his home planet?”
“That’s not nice.”
Rhiannon sighs. “No. I don’t suppose it is.”
“I probably shouldn’t have told you in the first place. Him telling me was a really big deal. I’m the first person he’s ever told. Just like you were the first person I ever told.”
“Just like.”
“You know I’m not saying it’s the same.”
“Okay. I do. I’m just worried by how well you’re saying you got along. I wish you’d seen Nathan all banged up.”
“I know. We’ll see how it plays out. I said I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
“When are you seeing him tomorrow? Is he going to call Nathan to set it up? If so, I better let him know.”
“No. I gave him an email address. We’ll figure it out directly.”
“Great.”
“It’s an email address, not a tracking device.”
“I want you to see him during the day. Then I want to see you after, for dinner. I can drive back.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Okay, then.”
“Wait,” I say. “One more thing.”
“What?”
I kiss her. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Oh, that,” she says.