Sunday, I come to Angelina and Kaya with warm muffins. The recipe and basket belong to Ya-Ya, my only girl who needs nothin’ special.
Ya-Ya she knows ’bout Polly, even though I told Brian to keep it secret. He can’t hide his thinking from Hailey; I knew that. And Ya-Ya and Hailey are close friends.
Didya think I was lying about needing food and clothes to meditate in the woods? Since my main rule is: “Don’t lie and don’t do stuff you hate?”
I take the blame. No other way.
Polly was like a dangerous animal at first. They would’ve locked her up. And then her inner self, which I’m trying to woo back, would be lost forever.
Besides, anyone who thought about it, could see I was making up a story. Hailey saw it. Right after finding Polly, I saw Hailey in the light, shaking her head.
I’ve set out the mugs, plates, muffins—everything we’ll want on the low table. The sunshine’s pouring through the windows, dazzling everything but the couch, which absorbs it. Watching the coffee, I smoke a bit of ganja.
[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]
Enough meditation; enough exploring sheets of light. Lately, I don’t look too far ahead. If I cast my sights wide but close ’pon those near my heart, happiness reigns. Past that, into the summer, say, there’s terrible sorrow.
I’ve said it a thousand times, but it remains true: I can’t see myself in the future. In fact, I can scarcely see myself at all.
But other people I see clearer all the time. So where’s Polly? Maybe she doesn’t appear because she’s so unsettled. Polly’s not right inside.
So night and day I’ve called to her truant inner self, the spark that completes her body and soul. But since Polly doesn’t appear in my visions—not even a glint—I could be all wrong. I only risked calling to her spirit because I wasn’t severe enough to turn her straight over to the Babylon system.
Here come the ladies in nightgowns and moccasins.
“Trevor, how sweet. Thank you,” Angelina says as I pour the coffee.
“I should do this every week since our Sundays have changed. But I thought of it this week, because I need a bly.”
“What’s that?” I light the pipe and offer it to them but they’re drinking coffee and enjoying the muffins. “Can Ya-Ya and I move into Polly’s angry cabin? ’Cause with us there, it won’t be angry.”
Angelina nods, like, of course, but asks, “Where’s Carla? I haven’t seen for more than two seconds all week.”
Carla is someone I can see so easily it’s like she’s right in front of my face. So I know she’s working at her restaurant. “Now that Carla owns the Eden, Angelina, she’s through being a young girl.”
“I know that, but still, Marc Swift crushed her self-esteem.”
“Carla’s fine, trust me. If Ya-Ya and I move into the angry cabin, we’ll make it nice.”
“Well, yes. You will make it nice. So why not?” Angelina looks pleased.
Kaya’s had a hand on my leg all this time so I lift it over my shoulder and twine our fingers.
“You know Polly’s disappeared.” Kaya grimaces, part sympathy, part worry.
“Yah, but she’s coming back soon. I think.”
Angelina winks at me. “You know better than we do, Trev. And if you and Ya-Ya want to live in the angry cabin—what a screwy idea, ‘an angry cabin’—it’s all yours.”
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