But before he could continue, Daniel began to play. He wasn’t sure where the impulse had come from, but he plucked out a few experimental notes, and Ammu fell silent, waiting. When he settled into a tune, he recognized it as an Eric Clapton song, but he played it much more slowly than the original. He played the chorus and a single verse, and a chorus again, and then, watching Ammu hesitantly, he began to sing very softly, turning the amp up just a bit first.
The song was “Something’s Happening,” from the Behind the Sun album. Daniel had never been certain what the song was supposed to be about, but somehow, in this moment, the lyrics spoke to him, as though the song itself were trying to tell him something, to convey some higher truth that remained just out of reach. He sang the chorus aloud and part of a verse, but then he stopped playing and looked at Ammu hesitantly, the last note of the guitar slowly fading away, hanging in the air between them.
“Something is happening, isn’t it?” Daniel wanted to know. “Something big.”
“Yes,” Ammu said quietly, and he nodded once for emphasis. His face was still kind, but he was not smiling now. He was not smiling at all. “Yes, it is.”
18
Sketch
When it was his turn to meet with Ammu, Roman was nervous. He rarely showed his drawings to anyone outside his own family, not even the good things. But he carried his light sketchpad into the exercise room nonetheless.
Roman liked Ammu, whose calm demeanor reminded him of Tony, but where Tony tended to be quiet in a standoffish sort of way, letting Roman’s mother do most of the parenting while Tony sipped a beer and watched television, Ammu was quiet in a thinking sort of way. This fascinated Roman, and he found himself liking the man despite feeling anxious about having all that intelligence focused in his general direction.
When Roman handed over the pad, Ammu nodded without comment and smiled, a serious sort of smile that conveyed more respect—more significance—than Roman, at eleven, saw from most adults. But as soon as Ammu opened the sketchbook, his face registered surprise, his eyes darting back to Roman, as though seeking something he had missed before, something that might explain the wondrous talent that sat before him in the body of an eleven-year-old boy.
He stared into Roman’s eyes for only a moment and then returned his full attention to the pages, silently turning them, one after another, slowly, reverently, taking in each new drawing like a true believer who has been allowed, for but a few precious moments, to gaze upon heaven.
Roman had been careful not to draw anyone from the center, not wanting such an image to be discovered accidentally, but the notebook was filled nonetheless with Roman’s mystical visions of humanity, including everything from quick, rough studies to detailed renditions that took Ammu’s breath away.
“How long?” the man asked finally, setting the book down on his lap without closing it, the current page open to a particularly fine rendering of Shaquiya’s fairy wings, poised delicately above her as she sat curled in a patch of sunlight, reading a book. “How long have you been able to see such wondrous things?”
“I don’t see that stuff,” Roman said, too quickly. “I just draw things I like.”
“I see,” Ammu said quietly. He took a deep breath and closed the pad, looking directly into Roman’s eyes again, and Roman had the impression that he did see, in fact—seeing everything there was to see about Roman, even the darkness that poured onto his secret pages when no one was looking.
The very thought made him want to throw up.
“It is very important,” Ammu said, “for us to be honest with each other. Not just you and me. All of us. But such a thing is not possible if that honesty only flows in one direction. I, too, know what it means to bear a secret so great that you feel you must hide it from the world—a secret that must be carefully guarded, to protect the ones you love.”
Roman watched as the emblem over Ammu’s heart glowed more brightly, pulsing with the rhythm of a heartbeat. Roman had to believe it was the beating of Ammu’s own heart—it was the only thing that made sense—but he also had the unshakable feeling that it was somehow the heartbeat of the world itself, emblazoned in light upon this man’s chest.
“I can not tell you about my secret yet,” Ammu continued gently, “and I will not, therefore, ask you to tell me about yours. But what I can tell you is this: our secrets, both yours and mine, are not about us. I carry a secret about how the universe works, and you carry a secret about how the universe is. These are not secrets about how I work. Or about how you are.
“You are special for what you see, this is true, but the things you see are not within you. What you see in the people around you, these are things within them.
Roman’s eyes grew even more guarded. He lowered his shoulders and his head, instinctively making himself even smaller, but Ammu continued as though he had not seen his reaction.
“What you have chosen to show me here today, I thank you for. Truly. To see your gift in such a tangible way… it is a blessing far greater than you can know, especially for me. But I also know, because of the secret I carry, that what you have drawn here represents only half of the human condition.
“There are others in the world who will appear to be surrounded by darker things, more sinister things, and I understand why you would not want to share these with me. I hope you will trust me enough to do so one day, but for now, you must know that the frightening things you see are not reflections of your own mind, or of your own soul—they are true reflections of things within them, their own very real trials and struggles.
“You must not judge such people for the burdens they bear, but you must be aware of this truth, and you must have faith in your visions. Always. Do not trust the intentions of the dark ones. Only trust the light. Do you understand?”
Roman nodded, tears springing unbidden to his eyes.
“Good,” Ammu said. “Then that is enough for today. You are already much farther along your path than I ever could have hoped. We will speak again when I can share more of my own secret. But you have nothing to fear from me or from the secret I bear. This much I can promise you.”
“I know,” Roman said, glancing at the emblem that glowed over Ammu’s heart.
Ammu smiled warmly. “Then go, for now. And peace be with you.”
19
Game Night
It had been so late when they had flown in the night before that Kaitlyn hadn’t even bothered to unpack. Now, after dinner, she took the time to empty her bags, putting her clothes away in drawers, hanging up a sundress and a couple of blouses in her closet, and setting up her laptop—a treasured present from Zack at the G&G—over at the computer desk.