Chapter 14

The first thing I did when I returned to New York the next afternoon was visit Karen at her day care center. Then I went to see Rob. He was finishing basketball practice when I got to his school.
    “Did you find the Final Story, Dad?” he said when he saw me.
    I couldn’t lie to him. “Yes, I did.”
    Rob put his hand up for a high five. “Way to go, Dad. Now you can finish your new book.”
    “I’ve decided not to tell the Final Story, Rob.”
    He looked puzzled. “I thought this was the story you’ve dreamed your whole life of telling.”
    “This isn’t going to be easy to understand. It’s going to require maturity on your part.”
    “I can handle it.”
    “I’ve learned there are some things best left unsaid, and that this applies to the Final Story above all.”
    “You’re right, Dad, I don’t understand.”
    “How shall I say this? Everybody is taught the Final Story from within, like Preacher John says.”
    “I don’t know it, do I?”
    “Not yet. But eventually you will.”
    “It must be okay to tell it if everybody knows it anyway.”
    “This is the difficult part, Rob. We know the truth, but as long as nobody talks about it, we don’t have to face the consequences.”
    “Why would talking about it be so bad?”
    “Because it would confirm what we learn from within. Without that confirmation, we can enjoy doubt…”
    Rob finished my thought. “…Not knowing makes hope possible.”
    “You’ve really grown up, Rob.”
    “If you’re not going to tell the Final Story, what are you going to do, Dad?”
    “I want to help your mother provide for you and Karen, so I guess I will exploit the commercial value of my Seminal Prize for Literature like any normal human being would.”
    “That’s kind of sad.”
    “Until you consider the alternative.”
    “I love you, Dad.”
    “I love you, too, Rob. You and Karen are my life now. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

I was in luck when I went to see Maria at her World Trade Center office. She was in. Her assistant picked up the phone to let Maria know I had arrived. “You may go in, Mr. Genet…”
    “What is it, Susan. What’s wrong?”
    “I shouldn’t say anything, but she’s been really down since you left for Israel. I’ve never seen her like this. I hope you have good news.”
    Maria was cool and remained on her side of the desk.
    “I made the deadline.”
    “Paul, I’m glad you accomplished your goal, but it doesn’t matter one way or the other to me anymore.”
    “Maria, I love you.”
    “You had the chance to prove that when I begged you not to go to Israel.”
    “I risk everything to learn the Final Story by today. That’s what you wanted.”
    “I didn’t want you to risk your sanity.”
    “You’ve accepted Ben’s proposal, haven’t you?”
    “Tell me the Final Story.”
    “What I know would start the Last Judgment.”
    “That’s impossible. If you tell me, maybe you can break the spell you cast over yourself.”
    “I can’t tell anyone.”
    “Here we go again, Paul. You’re letting a personal secret come between us.”
    I wanted to believe I was wrong about the Final Story. I tried to convince myself that, if I told Maria, I might see things differently, and be able to shake free of my terrible burden. But that was a rationalization. The truth was, if I didn’t tell her I was going to lose her.
    “Let’s ride the Staten Island Ferry over and back. I’ll tell you everything.”
    “No. I told you I’m meeting Ben for dinner.”
    “We’ll be back by seven o’clock.”
    The World Trade Center is close to Battery Park where the ferry docks. On the ride over and back, I pulled the whole story together. I finished as the ferry returned to the Manhattan terminal.
    She was incredulous. “If what you’re saying is true, the entire human race is involved in a conspiracy of silence. If what you’re saying is true, everything we’ve ever believed or taught about anything is a lie.”
    We had been sitting inside because of the cold, but as the ferry began to pull into the dock, Maria went on deck and stood by the railing near the bow. I followed her and tried to soften the blow.
    “The symmetry is beautiful. Two worlds—the Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of Adam—in perfect balance with each other and within themselves. Apart they equal everything. Together they cancel out and equal nothing.”
    “You’re too clever for your own good, Paul. If we know we cannot hope to enter the Kingdom of God, why don’t we despair?”
    “Rejecting Jesus is a half turn. To come full circle, you must accept yourself. The person who accepts herself will not despair, Maria.”
    As the bow pushed against the end of the docking slip, and the ferry lurched to a stop, Maria tried to get me to recant.
    “Your Final Story is insane, Paul. Tell me this is your writer’s imagination on overdrive.”
    I made no response.
    “Last chance, Paul. I understand you have to pretend to be serious for the public, but you can tell me the truth.”
    Again, I did not respond.
    The crew lowered the gangplank and Maria fled into the terminal.”
    I caught up to her. “I love you, Maria.” She was crying. I tried to hold her, but she broke away when someone grabbed my shoulder.
    “The lady wants you to get lost, dude.”
    It was the roller blader who bumped me in Washing Square the day I met Maria. I turned and slugged him and he went down. A terminal authority cop saw it and told me to stay put.
    “I have to go,” I said.
    The officer pressed his night stick against my chest. “You wanna broken arm?” He helped the blader up. “You okay, kid? You wanna press charges?”
    The blader dusted himself off. “Nah, my ten-year-old brother hits harder than this dude.”
    The officer let me go with a warning, and I rushed from the terminal. Maria was getting into a taxi as I got to the curb. I pushed a man out of the way to get the next cab in line. “Follow that yellow taxi.”
    “Which one, Mac? There’re a million cabs in New York and they’re all yellow.” He studied me in the rear view mirror, then turned. “Hey, I know you. Yeah, I never forget a face. You’re the jerk I almost ran over uptown a couple of weeks ago. Look, I’m sorry about that, Mac. Tell you what. This fare’s on me.”
    The driver turned off the meter and I gave him Ben’s address. I figured he and Maria might go there after dinner.
    The driver watched me through the rear view mirror. “Lady friend troubles, huh? Hey, Mac, don’t let it get you down. It’s the human condition, know what I mean?”
    “Yeah. Tell me about the human condition.”
    And he did, all night, as we waited for Ben and Maria. Of course, he was clueless, or rather, pretended to be. Even with him, a stranger, I was tempted to confirm what I was sure he already knew.

Chapter 14 continued