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"And you yourself, how could you know
what primordial time you stirred in your lover."

~~Rainier Maria Rilke -- Duino Elegies: The Third Elegy~~
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SATURDAY MAY 19, 2000
DULLES AIRPORT
EARLY AFTERNOON

BYERS:

International flights always seem to be late. It isn't just the interminable wait at customs that makes me feel that way, but the fact that they always seem to be delayed or rerouted or hung up by bad weather; it's always something. Sari's flight back from India is no exception. They touched down about twenty minutes late, and now I'm waiting by the customs gate for her to come out.

There are always several flights arriving at the same time, and when the display flashes her flight number, I get up again to look. No sign of her yet. I wonder what's keeping her?

I go back to pacing aimlessly. I know she didn't take much with her, but from what I've seen with some of the passengers, half the plane seems to have been occupied by people attempting to import the entire subcontinent. I wait restlessly, mostly sitting in the none too comfortable seats, occasionally getting up to pace, or to peer inside the open doorway to see if she's appeared yet.

Back and forth, back and forth, I watch the faces as people come out. A few remind me of Sari, but it isn't the same. Eventually, she appears, with one carry-on bag over her shoulder. She hasn't spotted me yet, but she's scanning the crowd.

"Sari!" I shout, and wave as I move toward her through the flowing tides of humanity.

"Hey, John!" She hurries in my direction, and as we meet she gives me a warm, enfolding hug that I return gratefully. We stand, holding each other close for a few minutes, and then she kisses me on the cheek. "It's so good to see you again."

It really is good to see her, to be close to her. I sigh and softly return her kiss with a touch of my lips to her cheek. It's the only time I've done it, and I hope I'm not overstepping the bounds of propriety, but she slides her cheek along mine in a gentle caress, with a little 'mmm' sound.

"I'm glad you're home," I tell her quietly, "I've really missed you." I knew while she was gone that I missed her, but it's only at this moment that I realize just how deeply I've been feeling it. Her return has lifted a weight from my soul that I didn't even know I was carrying.

"That feels nice," she whispers in my ear, her breath sending a slight tingle down my back. I close my eyes at the feeling. "I've missed you, too, John. I wish I could have called while I was away." We separate and I take her shoulder bag; she doesn't protest. "How's the Cardinal? And how are the guys?"

I've been dreading this moment. Why I should have to be the bearer of the bad news that Frohike spawned is beyond me. Our attempt to put the cat on a diet was a dismal failure. Mel's doomed.

"Um... you'll see him when we get to the van," I hedge.

She looks at me warily as we move through the concourse.

"Melvin got him fat, didn't he?" She shakes her head. "I told him I'd make him exercise if he didn't take care of the Cardinal and feed him properly."

"What did you have planned?" I ask, slightly uneasy. There's no way Frohike's going to like this, whatever it is.

"We'll start with yoga at dawn and go from there," she says.

I roll my eyes. At least it's a reasonably gentle exercise. No wind sprints, as we'd been fearing. But she did say they'd go from that point. Into what, I wonder?

"And precisely where is the old coot?" she asks.

"Pennsylvania."

"Avoiding trouble, as usual, I see. Ringo?"

I laugh. "Actually, Mel's visiting Deborah's friend Mel Scarlett. He's due back tomorrow sometime. Ringo's fine, being his usual annoying self."

She chuckles. Her eyes fill with amusement, but she looks exhausted. I'm not surprised. International travel is hard on people under the best of circumstances, but she's still wearing the cast, and with all her recent travel and activity, I'm not sure how well she's been healing. That, and she's spent most of the last 24 hours in transit.

"How are you feeling, Sari?"

She sighs and wraps an arm around me as we walk. I echo the gesture, happy to be close to her again. "Exhausted. Drained. I really want to go home, have a nice, long, hot shower, and throw myself into bed." I expected as much. "I've been bathing in the Ganges for most of the last two weeks, and hot water is just irresistible right now."

Now, that sounds miserable. I hope she'll ask me in for at least a few minutes when we get to her place, though. It's been a long time since we've spent any time together.

I turn toward the exit, but she steers me off down another corridor and says "No, not yet. I have a couple of things to pick up at the air freight counter."

"Air freight? Don't tell me -- you brought home a life sized statue of Indra or something."

She laughs again. "No, but I did get you guys a house-warming gift."

That surprises me. "Why? You know you didn't have to do anything like that."

"I wanted to," she says, as thought this were the answer to all the questions of the universe.

"What is it?" I ask, curiosity overcoming my manners momentarily.

"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now, would it?" Well, that's a given.

When we find our way down to the desk, she asks for assistance getting her items out to the van.

"Perhaps I should go and bring the van around to the loading zone," I suggest. She nods, and I head out to the parking lot.

I come back with the van in a matter of minutes, but there's quite a delay, and some confusion as to the labeling on the items. Sari grows visibly more tired as the time passes, and she leans against me as we sit to wait. Some time later, they're brought out on a rolling pallet.

"Where's the vehicle, ma'am?" the guy asks. One of the items is obviously a rug or an immense wall hanging of some sort. The other is a large, apparently rather heavy box.

"Right out here," I tell him, "the VW van." I look over at Sari. "How do you expect to get those things into your apartment?"

"I don't. The rug is your housewarming gift, and the other is something for you."

"For me?"

She smiles and laughs.

"What, you think I'd come back and not bring you something?" As the driver and I load the rug and the box into the back of the van, Sari checks on the Cardinal in his cat carrier. The box is awkward, though not nearly as heavy as I feared, but I'll need Langly's help to move these things.

"Oh, Gods, this is a disgrace! Melvin is going to pay in sweat for this. Poor sweetie kitty, you're all fat. John, does he even have any ground clearance left?"

"Well, only his fur actually touches the ground," I observe, trying to preserve some semblance of dignity. She stares at me.

"He's got short hair, John. That doesn't exactly leave much wiggle room. I swear, that man will pay for his iniquities." With that, she finishes cuddling the cat and puts him back in his carrier. She tips the guy rolling the pallet, and we're off to face the traffic.

We pass the trip to her place with conversation, telling each other about our adventures since last we spoke. I'll have to save the details of our California fiasco for a little later, when she's less tired and less likely to be upset by the proceedings. Fortunately, the rest of the month has been uneventful, at least in terms of death-defying acts of insanity.

She speaks of her time in the ashram with a quiet serenity that I wouldn't expect to find in someone who had just gotten off a plane from the other side of the planet, but Sari is always surprising me. And most of the time, they're wonderful surprises; a definite relief, as I've had more than my fill of unpleasant ones in my life. I don't want any more, thank you very much.

As we arrive, I can wait no longer. "So what's in the box?" I ask.

"If you're that impatient, why don't you open it now?" she replies, arms crossed. Actually, I could do that, couldn't I? With a certain amount of zeal and a pocket knife, I carefully open the box. Whatever it is, it's packed in small tapestries.

"Are these yours?" I ask her.

"No, they're for you, along with the other contents."

She waits patiently as I remove one of the tapestries. It's Durga, riding on the back of a tiger. A nice, classic piece of folk art, no tourist trash here. This, at least, doesn't surprise me. Sari has always displayed good taste. I remember her mentioning that Durga was one of the Goddesses she prayed to for protection, and considering the life I lead, I can certainly appreciate the gesture even if I don't share the belief.

As I remove the second tapestry, the wood of a statue is revealed. From what I can see, it looks like Ganesha, encircled by a radius of flame, like the Shiva Nataraj statues I see from time to time. It will be a few moments before I can get the full effect.

The second tapestry is a Goddess, but I'm not sure who. I show it to her.

"Laksmi," she says, "the Goddess who brings wealth and good fortune."

"Well, we could sure use some of that," I say, laughing.

A third tapestry is wrapped around the bottom of the statue, and when removed reveals that this is a dancing Ganesha.

"It's absolutely beautiful," I tell her, and I mean it. The work is really very good. It's not quite three feet tall, and will look quite stunning on top of the dresser in my far too empty room.

"He's the mighty remover of obstacles, and the Lord of Knowledge," she informs me. "I figured he'd be great for the sort of work you do."

That's for sure. One thing every hacker faces on a daily basis is a vast pile of traps, firewalls, ice, and innumerable other annoyances.

I unroll the last tapestry to see that it depicts Brahma and Sarasvati in a multi-armed and rather... tantric pose, not unlike the Shiva/Shakti in her living room. I think I manage to refrain from blushing. There's no way I'm going to let Langly or Frohike lay eyes on this; I'd never hear the end of it.

"One of the meditation images we use at the ashram," she says without a trace of embarrassment. "I'm in a Shakti tradition, you see. Sexual tantra is one of the spiritual practices of the sect, which is really very much based in Shakti mysticism and ecstatic practices. Tantra, mind you, really only means 'practice,' so when most people talk about tantra in India, they specify which one. Westerners are usually pretty fixated on this type, though, and think it's the only one."

This isn't the kind of everyday conversation I'm used to, but... Sari's a Tantrika? There certainly wasn't anything in her personal records indicating this particular detail.

While she's not what I would describe as truly conservative, she never struck me as the sort who would be into unusual sexual practices. Then again, I know next to nothing about tantra as a spiritual practice, or about what Sari's interests are in... um... those areas. As I spend more time with her, I find her more and more intriguing. There are fascinating depths to her that I'm only beginning to discover.

"I'm... stunned. These are... ah... magnificent gifts, thank you."

I wish I could say something more appropriate. I wish I wasn't blushing. I'm not used to receiving gifts that aren't high tech toys, and it's a much more pleasant feeling than I would ever have expected. What she's given me feels... right somehow, despite the fact that some of it seems extremely personal in nature, and I would never have bought anything like this for myself.

"No one's ever given me anything like this before." And that's the absolute truth.

"Don't worry," she says. "Your average Hindu wouldn't even blink an eye at something like this." She waves toward the tapestry. Is that supposed to be reassuring?

I roll the tapestries and use them again to cushion the large statue. Well, I do need something for my walls, after all. And you know, the Brahma and Sarasvati tapestry would look really nice over the head of my bed...

"Can I carry your bag up for you?" I ask. She nods.

"That would be great. Right now, I'm not sure I can carry myself up the stairs." She chuckles and heads for the door of her building, lugging the Cardinal while I have her carry on. I should probably be hauling the cat. He's undoubtedly several pounds heavier than the bag.

"Let me take the Cardinal," I say as she puts him down to unlock the building's entry door.

She makes no protest, and so I haul both the cat and the bag up the stairs. When we're finally inside her apartment, she relaxes. I put down her bag and the cat carrier, and let the Cardinal out. He, of course must inspect every square inch of the place to see that everything is in order in his world. The green, growing scent of her plants is rich in here, though the sandalwood scent has faded from her lengthy absence.

"It's so nice to be home," she sighs. "I love India, and the ashram, and I was really happy to see my folks and Kris, but it feels good to finally be back in my own space."

She stretches, not unlike her cat. I love the way she moves.

"Thanks so much for meeting me, John. I would have had a hell of a time getting all this stuff in my car, and it was so good to have a friendly face waiting for me."

I hope she's not going to ask me to leave yet, and to my delight, she doesn't. Instead she comes to me and puts her arms around me again. I close my eyes and sigh, breathing her in. We stand and hold each other for a long time, just soaking in each other's presence. It feels so good to just be here with her; it's like all my problems and worries were left at the door. She's developed something of a tan in the time she's been gone, but still wears the scent of sandalwood on her skin. I can't believe how much I missed her.

"I'm so glad you're back," I tell her, but my voice catches a little in my throat. I don't know why; I'm happy she's here.

She gently releases me, and asks, "John, is everything all right?"

I nod and take her hands in mine. "It is now," I tell her. It's a much deeper truth than she suspects. "I suppose I should go, and let you get your shower and some sleep," I offer, reluctant. With one soft hand, she strokes my cheek and kisses me there.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. I would love to spend more time with you, but I'm so exhausted." I can see she's fading fast. "I really need to get some sleep." Her grey eyes are fixed on mine.

"Are you working Monday?" I ask.

"No, I have a doctor's appointment at 11 a.m., but I'll be going in on Tuesday. I'd love to get together with you Monday, if you'd like."

Oh yes. I'd like that very much.

LONE GUNMEN HQ
MID-AFTERNOON

LANGLY:

When Byers gets back, he's like totally glowing. I knew he'd be in a way better mood once Sari got home. Maybe he won't bite my ass every time I turn around now, at least for a while.

"How's Sari?" He's got this far away look in his eyes. Man, he's so into her.

"Tired. She was going to take a shower and get some sleep when I left. I imagine she's already asleep by now. By the way, she brought us all a housewarming gift, and a box of stuff for me. I'll need your help to get it in -- it's going to take both of us to move this stuff."

"What, do I look like a pack mule or something? Jesus, can't you deal with that shit yourself?" He gives me this look.

"No, really, Ringo. When you see it, you'll know what I'm talking about."

I sigh and follow him out to the garage. Jeez, there's this huge roll of a rug there in the back of the van, and a pretty big box.

"The box isn't as heavy as it looks, but it's pretty awkward," he says. "I think the rug should probably go in the den."

"She gave us a rug? Dude, if we wanted a rug, we could go to some cheapo joint, buy some ends, and have 'em laid out wall to wall."

He just sighs and shakes his head. We start grappling with the roll, and it weighs a ton. Wish Frohike was here, we could really use his help with it. Three would make it a lot easier to handle.

"I suspect that this isn't the kind of rug you'll get anywhere for cheap," he says.

Yeah, whatever. We sweat and cuss and haul that sucker into the den. Thank God it's on the ground floor. I wouldn't want to haul that bitch up the stairs to Byers' room. We cut the packing cords and tear off the paper wrap around it, then Byers and I haul it to one end of the room and start to unroll it. It's actually really cool looking, with interesting blues and browns, and cool designs, and it feels all soft, too. Byers' eyes get all big.

"Whoa, dude, like this is one gnarly rug," I tell him. It is. It's awesome.

"Ringo, do you have any idea what this is?"

"It's, like, a real cool rug."

He kneels down and rubs his hand over it, real slow.  When he talks, it's like he's totally blown away.

"It's a hand knotted Persian rug, Langly. From the looks of it, it's a very well preserved antique, probably an Azerbaijani Heriz, to judge by the predominant blues and turquoise, and the patterns. I don't think it's a fake, either. Do you have any idea how much these things cost over here?"

I shake my head at him. I mean, I've heard of Oriental rugs, you know, but to me, a rug is just something you toss on the floor to cover up the dirt.

"I suspect this would be worth at least $10,000 if you tried to buy it here, maybe more."

Hell, no wonder his eyes got so big. I never heard of spending that kind of money on something to walk on. What was she thinking?

"She doesn't have that kind of money, does she?" I mean, we did a financial check on this chick, and she hasn't got the scratch to be tossing ten thou on the likes of us. Hell, she doesn't even have it to spend on herself. He shakes his head.

"No, of course not. But this would probably be reasonably priced in India, particularly if she found it outside the city somewhere. If that's the case, she probably could have picked it up for a pittance compared to its value. And since she speaks the language over there, and she's more or less a nun while she's with the ashram, I bet she got a much better price than any tourist would."

He's still down there, looking at the back of it now.

"What do you mean though, 'hand knotted'?" I get down and poke my nose real close to it next to him. "I don't see any knots." I'm practically cross-eyed.

"These things are traditionally woven and knotted by hand with naturally dyed cotton, silk, and wool, and something this size could take several years to make. These things have anywhere between 200 and a thousand knots per inch of rug, and I think this is one in the upper end of that count."

It does cover a lot of the den floor, probably around 15'x2o' or so. A thousand knots in every inch? Damn, that's gotta take for ever. They must've had old Azerbaijani ladies sitting around going blind most of their lives doing this shit.

"You think it's really worth $10,000? That's a hell of a lot of cash, Johnny. I mean, are you sure we want to be walking on this thing? There's gotta be a buncha little old Persian grannies rolling in their graves that we have it on the floor. Sari'd probably have a coronary."

"I doubt it. They're extremely durable, as long as you don't drop your pizza all over them and you take care of them properly," he says with a pointed look. "We have to keep it clean, and wipe up anything that gets on it right away, with only water, or with a really gentle cleaner. You can't let something sit on this for half an hour while you finish watching your show."

Oh, that's gonna be a pain, but like, it's a totally awesome thing for Sari to give us. She must really like us. That, and she's gotta have it a lot worse for Byers than I thought. Speaking of having it bad for someone, I wonder what Deb would look like on this thing... naked...

SUNDAY, MAY 20, 2000
ON THE ROAD
MORNING

FROHIKE:

Mel and I lingered over coffee for a while, probably longer than we should have, but it was such a delight that I didn't want it to end.

Once again, the weather gods have smiled on me, and the drive home should be easy, especially considering how much money I dumped into the Chrysler yesterday. Still, it seems a mere pittance for the pleasure of the weekend.

We spent last night at Mel's house. Her children gave us some strange looks, but upon getting the Look of Death that mothers employ so well, they wisely skipped further comment. I thought I would feel awkward staying in her home, but I was actually extremely comfortable. She does, after all, have a queen sized bed, and the most tender, capable hands I've ever run across. Yes, I did get my shoulder massage, among other treats.

Unwillingly, I finally concede it's time to hit the road, and we say goodbye on the porch. Then we say goodbye on the walkway. And outside the car. And when I get inside the car.

I'm not complaining, mind you. There were kisses mixed in every time. I feel vaguely empty and lost at the idea of leaving her, but when I complained that I would miss her, she winked and assured me that we'd be together again soon.

As I make my way toward the highway, I can't help but wonder how she endured me. I was nervous that after I'd told her some of the things I did this past weekend, she'd be shaking her head and saying 'it's been nice, but hit the road Jack and don't you come back no more.' She didn't. Even when I described the events at FPS, she understood my absurd amusement with some of it. Granted, not much of it was funny, but enough of it was so off the wall that anyone would have to laugh. And the greenbacks don't hurt, either, especially now that we have that wreck of a house to fix up.

Langly and Byers better not have been sitting on their asses all weekend. On the other hand, if 'Langly' and 'fire' are mentioned in the same sentence, I'm probably going to kick myself for wishing they'd been working. They say to be careful what you wish for; you just might get it.

Well, I wished for Mel to accept me for what I am and what I do, and she does. That almost unnerves me all by itself. I'm much better acquainted with what to do when someone rejects me outright. But now that she's made her feelings clear, in ways, I'm worried that the hardest parts are yet to come. The only comfort I take is that she's strong enough to do this with me. I hope I can live up to her expectations.

I'm sure I'll get plenty of hassle from the guys when I get home, but that's fine.

Although Byers really hasn't been that bad, I suspect that with Sari's return, he's calmed down appreciably. Poor guy. Yeah, they're friends, but some day he's going to turn around and not know what hit him, and then wonder why it took so long. I hope it happens. The amusement factor alone would make it worthwhile. In the meantime, I'll just watch the two of them try to figure it out.

I suspect Langly is excited at the prospect of Deborah being near him, but nervous, too, scared that it might not work out and just as scared that it might. I can empathize. On the other hand, if that house isn't shaping up when I get back, they'll both be getting something other than my empathy. Ah well, just a few more hours on the road.

End part 6