The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 128
So, yes, I stopped visiting realtors, making phone calls, searching the web in any sort of conventional, proactive effort to find affordable housing for my cats and myself. A surrender to fate? Not exactly.
The wheel swings, baby. It’s important to know that if you intend to ride. And though I defied her for the first month or so—taking charge as humans so foolishly feel compelled to do—Linda showed me how to jump off the very night I got the news about the house.
Jump off, land, stand, walk away, look back, wake up.
You wake up on a lonely, secluded white beach, surrounded by jungle.
The water is turquoise.
The air, coconut.
You’re a young girl, a virgin, staring at a brown boy across the cove.
Then you’re the boy, staring back, wondering how to tell the other you how dangerous it is sneaking away from the monastery. How wrong.
But what about your sacrifice? Lying to your mother
stealing trainfare from her purse
coming here alone.
But my father, the boy you says, paid the master. I was a hooligan.
Girl You: (Reaching out her hand) Not to me.
Beneath the young lovers the beach ripples and rolls
tiny heartbeats of sea turtles.
“Understand?” Linda purrs, lifting her head from my hand.
The world within the wheel is conjured.
A projection of light.
A crazy echo.