In the end I did borrow his synthesizer, but only after he had pestered me for three days about it. Was I lucky it was a Korg. The way he described it, I was expecting something toylike, a Casio or low-end Yamaha.

It was very fortunate, too, that I insisted on looking at it in his room, because the stubborn-headed boy told me he was going to bring it over himself to the house. Was he nuts? I was quite annoyed—and relieved—to stomp out of there with it in my arms.

He came over too, and I let him rest awhile as I plugged it in and warmed up a little. Ah, heaven. Quite unconsciously my fingers segued into a composition I'd been tinkering with for a couple of months. It didn't match the waves and the heat and the general air about us, so I switched to another.

He was conscientious enough to remain quiet while I played. I had assumed he was listening. But when I looked up, he was slumped over the table. I rose in alarm and shook him, and up popped his head. He had just fallen asleep.

"Don't scare me like that!" I said, raising my voice. I couldn't help it. He accepted the reprimand, and the next time I looked at him I found him with his head leaning back over the backrest, snoring slightly.

I woke him again. "Look, if you're sleepy you can just go back to your house," I said reprovingly. "Come on, piggy-back."

-oOo-

"No way!" I had my pride. She'd manhandled me enough the past days. I was going to walk back, and this time she wasn't going to stop me. But I wasn't going to go back home. Not just yet. "It's your fault," I said. "What you're playing is putting me to sleep."

Up went an eyebrow. "You mean it's boring?"

"N-no, no! It's... well, it makes one want to drown in it, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

I tried to explain it to her, something about a sea of sound, and the waves, and a mysterious feeling, unsolvable, thoughts trailing off into the night beyond the picket fence lining a garden, and that stuff. It was a long time before comprehension glimmered in her eyes.

For some reason she led me to the bench seat near her. "You sit there," she said. "And if you want to sleep you just lie down, okay?"

I nodded, and the angel of St. Mary's, she went back to the church organ and started to play again.

-oOo-

The following evening I was hammering the keyboard as if I wanted to break the white plastic. The air felt dense, humid, oppressive. I felt like the walls were closing in on me, and I just had to break out. But I couldn't, so I vented my unexplainable anger on the device instead. Alan noticed this, of course, and asked what was wrong.

"Nothing," I snapped. "Why should anything be wrong?"

He retreated into himself and said nothing more. I had successfully overcome my qualms and kicked the puppy, and wasn't very happy with myself.

It was all his fault, naturally. I had specifically told him to not come after me, to leave me alone until such time as I wished to come back. But when I came to Mrs. Chubby's to collect my ward and his keyboard, she gave me a telegram, which I opened and read. Damn him! Goddamn him!

I felt a small tug at the edge of my shirt and heard my name spoken.

"Yes?" I said, determined not to let my emotions get the better of me this time.

"Play for me, please."

I looked down at the young face with the old eyes. Somehow I got the feeling that I was facing someone much older than I saw him to be.

"Alright." I laced my fingers and stretched my hands, palm outwards. The next piece I played as if I was in a formal recital. But the emotions I had been keeping inside me began to seep out, as if the music was a water tap I had twisted open, and by the time I was finished, tears were streaming down my cheeks.

My name was called again. I looked at him and saw a mixture of concern and wonder on his face. "Yes?"

"What's wrong?"

I sniffed. Ah, what could it hurt now? "My husband's coming over."

"So?"

"He's taking me back with him to Japan."

"Why are you crying, then?"

The answer revealed itself to me just then, at that very moment. The little boy had given it to me, in making me recall my past. "I'm afraid to return," I said. "I'm afraid to return."

"Why?"

"Because I fear that once I go back, the walls will close around me forever." Escape. Yeah, that was what this was all about, wasn't it? I was still afraid of dropping my old self, of assuming a new role, of wearing a new mantle around my shoulders.

He put his hand in his shorts pocket and took out a handkerchief. "Don't worry, I haven't used it yet," he said as he offered it to me.

He made me smile. I took it from him and dabbed my eyes and erased the tracks on my cheeks.

"What was that you were playing?"

I looked at him. "I call it 'Emotion'."

"It's yours?"

I nodded.

"Play me another, please."

I did. No one could command me to play if I didn't want to, but I had nothing against requests, especially from someone whose only sanctuaries from pain were little ephemeral things, like a smile, a glissando, a word of kindness, the sleepy warmth of a summer afternoon that all too quickly gets consigned to memory, which then gradually fades away. That evening, as I played another composition for him, I thought, what the heck, if the waters are going to close around my head soon, I might as well have fun while this lasts.

I kept playing, far into the night, while the waves surged onto the shore of St. Mary's and the young man listened, sometimes talked, and, eventually, slept. Slowly, slowly, in a million years or so, the sea would win and submerge the island. My fate would come much sooner.

-oOo-

I woke to bright sunlight and an aching back. I silently cursed myself for leaving the blinds open and sat up. It was strange, but I didn't remember putting a blanket over myself. And since when was the bed—oh, no.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly, sitting at the little table in a pink bathrobe, with her hair covered by a terry turban and a mug of something steaming in her hand. Her legs were crossed, and I don't know if she knew it, but the hem of her bathrobe had fallen away, revealing a lot of thigh.

Her demeanor and dress alarmed me. Fearing the worst, I looked at myself under the blanket, and as I did so I heard her laugh.

I shot her an annoyed glance. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she giggled. "Nothing."

I made sure I had my best snide expression on, and fired my own broadside. "You've got very nice legs."

"What? Oh!" She started to cover up, and I went 'Bollocks!' in my mind. If I hadn't mentioned it she would've probably never noticed, and I could've had a lovely show of flesh... but the grateful smile on her face was an excellent substitute for it.

"What am I doing here?" I asked.

"You don't remember?"

"It's all so hazy to me," I murmured.

She smiled again, and I caught the glint in her eye as she let her bathrobe fall, exposing her thighs again. "Well, we had a very lovely time," she informed me, in a throaty contralto that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. "I'm hurt that you cannot remember it."

What? But that's impossible—how could I? She must be lying... or if she were telling the truth, she must've been extra-gentle with me, and I must've been extra-

My balloon burst when she guffawed.

"Fiend," I muttered. "That's not very sporting of you."

"I'm sorry," she choked, her eyes watering. "Don't worry, I asked Missus Chubby if I could let you sleep over. It was so late I didn't want to wake you up anymore." She gestured with the mug at the contents on the table. "Breakfast?"

-oOo-

I couldn't believe it. I was flirting with him. Come on, I told myself. That's not fair to him, to either of you. You set the bounds and yet you're crossing over them yourself.

Well, you're only young once, I defended myself. When he grows older I hope he'll think kindly of the woman who showed him some interest when no one else probably would.

That's not being kind. That's being cruel.

All right, can it. I can't help it; he reminds me of him. And I could never explain why I was attracted to him in the first place, remember? He was so wishy-washy in the beginning.

I watched Alan amble over to the table and start choosing the food he was going to eat. Well, there's one consolation, I told myself. At least he likes my cooking.

-oOo-

For decorum's sake I went back to the bungalow and put in an extended appearance, but all I really wanted to do was to return to the shack and spend the rest of the day with her. So her husband was coming to bring her back to Japan? It sounded like she was being caged there. Suddenly being with her was no longer an idyll; it was a race with time, a contest I would never win.

-oOo-

He came again that night, walking by himself on the beach, and caught me packing. I didn't have much stuff with me, just a backpack and a roller bag's worth.

I was surprised at him coming over without assistance and said so. He just stared straight at my things on the bed. He was standing just inside the open door.

"Are you leaving so soon?" he asked. "The telegram just got here yesterday."

I simply nodded. How could I explain to him about my husband and his powers? For all I knew he could be downtown already, prowling around, looking for me. He knew where I was, but not exactly; I had secreted myself away that much.

"It's unfair!" he blurted out. "This husband of yours must be an ogre."

"Ogre?"

"A monster."

"No, he isn't," I replied. "He's a sweet man and I love him."

"But why is he taking you back against your will?"

How do I explain to a young innocent the vagaries of the heart, the twists and turns of the human psyche, when I am no expert in it myself? "To face up to what I should. I was running away, Alan. That never solves anything."

"You know," he said contemplatively, "there's this gun on the wall of Missus Chubby's living room..."

"Alan."

"It's j-just a thought," he stammered, raising his hands. "We could call the police and have him kept in the station for a while," he persisted. "My father's friends with the chief—"

"Alan, no."

"But why?" The last word was one great outrush of anguish and non-understanding.

"I think you'd better go back home," I said quietly. "You might harm yourself." So saying, I walked up to him and grasped him by the upper arm. "Come on."

He stepped behind me and—God help me, my heart still contracts at the memory of what he did—he embraced me, putting his arms around my waist. His clinch was so tight it hurt.

I felt him press his face into my back and heard him speak my name in a trembling voice. I whispered his just as unsteadily.

"I'll miss you," he said.

"Don't be so foolish," I said. I wanted to shake his arms off, but was paralyzed by my own traitorous heart and my wish to not distress him. "How can you miss someone you've only known for a few days? Please let go of me."

-oOo-

Now that I had her I wasn't about to let go so easily. "Mrs. Kasuga," I whispered fervently, "I lo–"

"Don't!" She remained standing perfectly still. "Don't say it. You don't know what you're talking about, Alan. I don't want this, and I don't want to hurt you, so please, let me go."

I didn't answer her, and I didn't let go. So she reached up and forced my hands off her. As I said before, she was strong.

"Alan," she said gently as she turned around, "we've known each other for such a short time and yet I consider you a friend already. Let's keep it that way, please." She put a hand on my head and ruffled my hair. "Go and get yourself well. Then maybe we can meet again in the future, okay?"

I knew she was lying. Once off St. Mary's, the angel would take flight and I'd never see her again. So to save myself, and what was left of my dignity—after having acted so stupidly and mauled it, what was there left to do?—I pushed past her and began the long, slow journey back to the bungalow.

She caught up with me. "Wait," she whispered. I turned to face her, and found her eyes, luminous with moisture in the moonlight, looking at me.

-oOo-

What was I supposed to say to him? That I was sorry I had a husband, when there was no truth to that? Should I beg for him to understand, when that would imply the same thing? Should I apologize for hurting him, when he had brought most of it upon himself? I didn't know. I stood there looking into his eyes, agonizing over what to say, when his hand placed themselves over my shoulders, and his face began to draw nearer to mine.

-oOo-

It was then that we both heard the cry.

"Madoka!"

She stiffened and I stiffened and we both looked in the direction of the bungalow.

-oOo-

Oh, God. Kyousuke.

He was standing some distance away from us, far enough that the darkness hid his features, but near enough to see what we were doing with only a little moonlight to aid him.

I never heard or saw him until then. He must have teleported himself onto the beach, perhaps after seeing our shadows walking on the sand.

I knew just from the tone of his voice that he was very angry. As well as he should be, if I were in his place. Now I knew what it was like to get caught in a compromising situation, like he did so many times, only to explain the truth to me afterwards.

It all happened so fast. I jerked my head to look at him, and suddenly Alan forced it back and kissed me. Right in front of Kyousuke. If there were any doubts in his mind, they would have all been erased by the sight in front of him.

I pushed the young man away and slapped him. Then I looked back at my husband, only to find emptiness where once he stood.

I dashed up to where he had been. "Kyousuke!" I called. "Kyousuke!" He was nowhere to be seen. Darn him, he must have used his teleportation again. I kept calling into the darkness, until Alan came up behind me. I heard him and spun around.

-oOo-

She was livid. "How dare you!" she shouted. "Why did you do that?"

I had no excuse. I just stood there looking at her, mute.

"You betrayed my trust and put me in more trouble than I was before!" she said. "Why did you do it, Alan?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I mumbled.

"Well, it wasn't." She cast her gaze around us one final time, then said, "Come on. I will escort you home. After this I will no longer see you. Don't come to the house any more. And don't worry about your plaything, I will return it later."

I cursed myself for being wrong. She did love him, after all. I shouldn't have kissed her, and been content with her friendship. I shouldn't have kissed her.

-oOo-

I heard her calling out my name, but kept myself hidden. With all those years of having to correct her misunderstandings—our misunderstandings—under my belt, I felt it was only right that I still give her the benefit of the doubt. She had done the same for me so many times before. I guess it was the shock that kicked me out of place and teleported me onto the roof of the dilapidated house. My young wife, being kissed by a young lad. There was a joke in there, somewhere. If only I could find out what it was before I faced her.

-oOo-

Poor Alan. I guess being bold didn't go too well with him. I could tell he was trying to apologize when we got to his door, but he remained silent. And I wasn't inclined to help him sort himself out; my heart was all in a tizzy over my husband. What he must be thinking of the woman he had married! Was he lurking somewhere nearby, watching his unfaithful wife and her young paramour? He might even find it in himself to hurt Alan. I know what he's capable of when his anger and jealousy are aroused.

"Alan," I said hurriedly, "go to your room, just in case my husband comes looking. I'll try to find him and calm him down before he does something stupid." I couldn't tell him the whole truth, so it was the best lie I could give him. "This is goodbye, young man. If you had only waited, I think I would've given you a kiss anyway, as a remembrance." I ran down the steps and started calling for my husband, mentally asking for Mrs. Chubby to forgive me my noise.

-oOo-

I didn't answer her calls. She kept at it until my wristwatch said ten. Then the cries ceased and I heard the door below me close.

I gave her ten minutes, then teleported myself inside the house, still in my lying-down pose, with my head propped up on an elbow. When she had accompanied the young man back to the old lady's house I risked a quick look-around, just so I could make an appropriately dramatic entrance.

She was standing in the middle of the room, and had her back to me. She didn't hear me materialize just above the bed, and I was careful to avoid making it creak as I lowered myself on it.

My nascent wrath was tempered by her obvious misery. True, I couldn't see her face, but the stamping of her foot was all I needed to see to know her state of mind. She rarely does something like that. She usually just stands still. Any emotion gets expressed on her face, especially in those lovely, changeable cat-like eyes of hers.

"Well, Madoka, care to explain what happened a while ago?"

She jumped and turned around. "Kyousuke!"

"Last I checked, that was my name," I said. Inappropriately cheeky, but I so rarely get the upper hand of her in situations like these, I was determined to enjoy it for as long as I could.

The words came out of her in a rush, so fast that I had to ask her to stop and repeat what she just said. Finally I understood, and I patted the bed in front of me, asking her to sit down.

"So the poor boy has a massive crush on you? Aren't you old enough to be his mom?"

Her eyes flashed. "Kyousuke."

"Just kidding."

"He's only a couple of years younger than you are," she said.

I kept silent for a few minutes, letting her sweat a little more, though I think my relaxed air told her what she needed to know. "How long has this been going on, Madoka?"

"A few days, but this is the only time he's ever gone ahead and done something he shouldn't." She sighed. "I just wanted to help him by making him exercise."

"Exercise? You mean in this bed?"

"Kyousuke! Don't be so ecchi! He can't do that anyway. It'll kill him."

"How so?" I got a quick overview of the young man's health.

-oOo-

He just lay there for minute or two, with that exasperatingly pacific expression on his face. I wondered how he could stay so cool at a time like this.

"Alright," he said finally. "I guess I can forgive him, seeing as how I, too, got bewitched by your charms. But you, Madoka, you still have to explain a few things to me."

"Such as?"

"Why you insisted on coming alone to this godforsaken place. I had a hard time finding a paper map which showed it." He groaned loudly. "Don't even bother asking what I went through to get here."

My throat stopped up with all I wanted to say to him, but couldn't. I swallowed them back down and said, "I'll explain everything to you when we get home."

To my surprise a frown emerged on his face. "You want to go home?"

"As soon as possible. That's what you're here for, isn't it? To bring your runaway wife back home?"

The frown deepened. "Why would I want to do that? I just got some time off from work. I came here to join you."

"What?" I turned my back to him and recalled the words of the telegram. It had said "AM COMING OVER TO ST MARYS STOP GET READY STOP KYOUSUKE STOP" That was all.

The absurdity of the whole situation dawned on me, and I began to laugh.

-oOo-

"Madoka! What's wrong?" I thought the strain, little as I supposed it was, had somehow finally made her snap.

Still laughing like a crazy woman, she turned around and dove at me, pinning me underneath her, her unfettered breasts brushing against my chest. She then gave me a long kiss. When it finished she got off me and stood back up, mumbling something about her world existing only in her mind—or something like it.

She headed for the gas range. "I hope you don't mind canned goods and ramen. I wasn't expecting you to arrive yet."

"Of course not. Let me just change, and I'll help you cook."

I'm happy to report that I slept that night with both my heart and my belly full, with a beautiful woman nestled in my arms.

-oOo-

He was standing solemnly outside the door when I opened it. Mrs. Chubby was with him. The first thing he did was bow. He kept on bowing and saying he was sorry, very sorry, and I bowed in return, until our heads knocked together. We straightened up and found ourselves rubbing our pates and laughed.

He sort of lost all his color when I introduced Kyousuke to him. He did his bowing, bowing, bowing routine again—I don't know where he got it from, certainly it was not from me—and my husband told him to stop. Since otto-san is not as conversant as I am in English, I had to butt in and translate. The things Kyousuke said then made me want to shrink inside myself. I was sure he was only doing it so he could have a laugh at my expense. Stuff like, "I forgive you, because I can understand how you became attracted to so wonderful a woman," and the like. I stood there and felt my cheeks grow hot. He gave me little glances that told me he knew exactly what I was feeling and was deliberately doing what he was doing. I sighed and wished his cousin were with us. Kazuya takes my side almost all of the time, if only to discomfit his Kyousuke-niichan.

Alan surprised me by asking if he could have a private word with my husband. When I told Kyousuke what he said he went out the door and led the young man some distance away. The noise of the wind and the waves camouflaged their talk, and I looked apologetically at Mrs. Chubby, who shook her head and smiled. It would be a learning experience, she said, her lined face splitting into a reassuring grin.

I could tell the young man was having trouble making himself understood. He kept gesturing, while the other stood still and listened. Finally Kyousuke nodded and they walked back to us. I didn't like the grim expression on my husband's face.

Alan said he was leaving. Mrs. Chubby helped him away, and my spouse and I watched them.

"Madoka."

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"He told me what you said."

I had to consciously hide my shock. In my relief at how well things had gone I had forgotten what I told Alan. I settled for an aggressive posture. "So?"

"Are you that unhappy?"

I shook my head. "Anata, you know me and my moods." I took one last glance at the boy and his guardian and led Kyousuke inside, shutting the door after him and leaning myself against it. I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes as I admitted, "I'm afraid of becoming someone else." I gave him that speech about the walls closing in all around me, about assuming another role in life, and at the end he barked with sharp laughter.

"Whatever made you think that? You just be who you are, and everything will be all right!"

"You think so?"

"Yes! I married you for you, not to get myself a trophy woman to display at home! I was wondering why you seemed so distracted before you left," he added in a quieter voice.

-oOo-

Her capriciousness will never cease to baffle and amaze me. She stopped leaning against the door and began shedding her clothes. First her shirt, then her shorts and panties. As I stood there staring at her, proud and luscious, a goddess of beauty personified yet vulnerable and all too mortal, she stepped out of her floppy sandals and whispered, "This is who I am, Kasuga-kun. Am I the one you still want, after all these years?"

I put my hands on her shoulders and drew her to me.

-oOo-

The next three days passed by in a haze of sun, wind, sky, and water. Rustling palm leaves, shushing sand, and waves hissing and dying upon the shore. Thrice, the moans of heated lovemaking. We went downtown on the second day, to play the role of ordinary tourists, and on the eve of the third I decided to go for a swim as the sun fell from the sky. I asked him to come into the water with me, but he declined. He had a bad scrape on one calf, caused by falling off a stadium seat while on the job at the Tokyo Dome.

I shucked my clothes as he went back into the house and waded into the water. I was somewhat apprehensive then, fearing that Alan would return and I'd be caught in flagrante delicto again. But I thought, what the heck, Kyousuke was here anyway, and the young man wasn't liable to come near enough to see what state I was in. We had patched things up as best we could, but of course it would be awkward for everyone to have him come and visit us so soon.

We kept seeing him sporadically on the veranda of Mrs. Chubby's bungalow, but his presence there grew less and less, until we had not seen him at all on the third day. I kept remembering in my mind the penitent look on his face when he apologized and felt guilty. If I hadn't acted so nice to him none of this would ever have happened. Of course, if none of this had ever happened, I would still be in my quandary, Kyousuke would still be in the dark about my feelings, and he would've had to deal with a much more troubled—and nasty—me when he arrived.

As I was swimming I heard him shout. I looked towards the shore and saw him waving frantically, motioning at me to—get out of the water?

-oOo-

She didn't appear to understand what I was trying to tell her, so I checked the widow's bungalow. I could see no one outside, so I teleported myself into the water beside her.

She bumped into me and started. "Don't do that!"

"Come on, let's get out of here," I said quickly.

"Why?"

"There's a shark nearby."

"What?" She looked at me funny, so I jerked a thumb behind us. She looked. And started to chortle, to my displeasure.

"You should be more observant. That's not a shark, that's a dolphin."

I turned and hunted for the fin and, after some seconds, had to agree with her. Unless sharks had blowholes and could whistle and click and otherwise vocalize, I was wrong. She told me there was a pod which regularly did the round of the bay. It was part of their territory.

She slapped the surface of the water a couple of times. "If they come here, I'll show you something peculiar," she said.

I just had to get out of the water, as my wound was hurting. I told her this and she had me come out by myself, while she stayed and at first one, then a number of cetaceans surrounded her, making their unusual noises. I watched from the shore.

-oOo-

The dolphins were something I had forgotten to tell Kyousuke about. Mrs. Chubby had told me about them when I arrived, and I asked if it was safe to be in the water with them around. She answered yes. I took a swim with them once, before I met the young man.

Like that first time, today they kept bumping me and brushing against my body. One big bull, in particular, seemed to have a particular interest in me and pushed all the others away. He then kept a vigil as I swam, coming near me and turning belly up, encouraging me to scratch his tummy as I had dared to do so before. I gave in, and he looked at me with those beady, teary eyes of his and that ridiculous fixed smile; I think he liked it.

This went on for some fifteen minutes or so, at the end of which I felt it was time to come out of the water. I gave the bull one last scritchy-scratch, and headed for shore.

-oOo-

She emerged from the sea, glistening in the late afternoon sunlight. The water sluiced, then dripped off her nakedness, off the tips of her fingers and the underside of her breasts and the dark vee at her crotch, as she walked to me with an animated expression on her face.

Smiling like an impish teenager, she told me all about the dolphins and how she had come to know about them and meet them. Then, still wet and dripping and delightfully nude, she edged up to me, put an arm around my waist and pointed the leader out. He was raising his head out of the water and looking at us, whistling and chattering; I joked that he was singing to her, trying to get her to come back into the water so he could ravish her with all his finny goodness. I shouted that I sympathized with him, but she was mine, all mine, and no mammal, fish-shaped or otherwise, could ever take her away from me.

-oOo-

I smiled up at him and accepted his offer of a towel. He wrapped it around me and, to my astonishment, picked me up and carried me into the house. Once inside he shed his own clothes and led me inside the bathroom. There he soaped and bathed me, and I did the same for him. We began teasing each other, and things got pretty heated. Soon we were finishing our shower and drying off quickly, so we could make love on the bed. We didn't quite get there in time.

-oOo-

When we tumbled onto the bed, satiated and happy, I couldn't help but chuckle a little. She frowned and asked me what was so funny; I replied I was a bit surprised that we were acting like a pair of oversexed teenagers.

"It's the island magic, loverboy," she replied confidently, leaning over to kiss me and then dropping her head back on the pillow. A minute later things changed, and I was squabbling with her over her wet hair and why she wouldn't dry it. Still later on we were kissing and making up, and the enigmatic Madoka fell asleep with her black tresses still damp. I waited for a couple of minutes for her slumber to deepen, then patted them dry with a towel. I remember smirking at that time, thinking that I'd won the argument.

She looked like a being from the empyrean in repose, her parentage parts heaven and parts eros. Her creamy skin was flushed here and there from our lovemaking, and her chest voluptuously rose and fell in regular rhythm. She looked not so much asleep as simply lying there on the pillows with her eyes closed, contemplating the thoughts of the inner sea of her mind. How I wished I could delve it with her. Sometimes I think it would be better if that were so; had the young man not told me about what she had revealed to him, I would never have guessed that she was afraid of the new life she had embarked upon. I keep wishing to this day that she would unburden herself more to me; she still carries much of her self-sacrificing ways with her, and I hate to discover that they had been causing her pain. I try to tell her how much I love her, what she means to me, and yet my words are such paltry things to touch her heart with. I have to keep traveling my beloved's labyrinthine infinity to discover what she needs from her life, what she wants from me. I keep on reflecting that it is a good thing she is the kind of person she is, and that she loves me.

Maybe I should have seen the signs. Some weeks before she left we had attended a social function, and she decked one asshole who had come on to her, and then—when she had rebuffed him—insulted her parents. I was talking to someone else at the time, so I wasn't there to stop her. They say it was a beautiful right to the jaw and, afterwards, a knee to the groin. I told her afterwards that I was surprised at her violence, because it had been a long time since she had done something like that. She brushed my concerns off and growled that the man had gotten exactly what he deserved; but she got perilously close to being sued after the incident. It was only with Kurumi and Akane's help—and a lawyer friend of my father's—that we got things straightened out. As a goodbye gift to that man I let the air out of his car's tires after the court hearing. I had learned much over the years from my grandparents, and I'm afraid I haven't been exactly magnanimous in the use of my gifts. But then again, it was because of Madoka: I'll never allow anyone to hurt her or impugn her name. Manami once commented that my love for her was an obsession, and I've never seen a reason to correct her of that fact.

-oOo-

We left late the next day, after I had purchased a ticket for myself, so as to catch the second connecting flight to the mainland. From thence we would ride a KAL airliner all the way home. I kidded my husband about teleporting us back, but he asked me if I really wanted to engage in such a perilous undertaking. But how did he get to St. Mary's so fast, if he didn't use his powers?

"I did," he said in answer to my question. "And I ended up in Madagascar, rather than here. You didn't notice the point of origin of the telegram?"

I shook my head and said I had been too rattled by the message to note it.

We said our goodbyes to Mrs. Chubby. I turned the key of the house over to her and thanked her for a very pleasant stay, and so did Kyousuke. Alan was there, in his wheelchair, looking woebegone. Kyousuke and I exchanged secret looks, and I told him in a low voice that I had to talk to him before we left. Could he please wait out of earshot, under the mango tree where I parked the bicycle I had used?

He nodded and I walked up to Alan. He was quite surprised to see me coming near him.

"I thought you were in a hurry," he said.

I shook my head. "Not really. I want to say goodbye to you first."

He looked at me listlessly. "Goodbye, then."

"Alan, do you really want us to part this way? Please, we cannot be what you want us to be, but at least we can be friends."

He looked at me a long time. "Okay, Missus Kasuga. It was nice knowing you."

"I'd like to know how you are, in the future," I said. "Do you want to write to me?"

His eyes brightened and he nodded. "Sure!"

I rummaged in my handbag for a name-card. As I said before, I hadn't come here to cultivate any friends, so the three I had were old and out-of-date. They still had my maiden name on them, and the address of my parents' house. I wrote my married name on the back of one, along with my new address, and gave it to him. He said thank you, and asked if I could call Kyousuke for a moment. I was confused but acceded to his request, and he, smiling again, told me to wait while he got something from his room.

Kyousuke had just come up the steps when Alan came out the door. He bore two things in his hands: one was a bit of yellow paper, with his name and address written on it, which he gave to me; the other was a bouquet of peach-petaled roses, which, bewilderingly enough, he showed to otto-san.

"I'm sorry, but I don't swing that way," my amused husband said. I began to translate, when Alan spoke. He sounded like he had rehearsed his lines; his cheeks were splashes of red as he said them.

"Please, sir, your beautiful lady has no flowers. Allow me to give these to her."

I was abashed at his gallantry. "Kyousuke, he's asking your permission to give me the flowers." Smiling at Alan, my husband said, "Of course," in English.

-oOo-

I stood up and gave the flowers to her. She beamed at me, as if we hadn't been in conflict a few days earlier. "Thank you! You're so sweet." She smelled the bouquet for a second, then put it down, stepped towards me, and kissed me near my mouth. As she pulled away her lips lightly brushed the edge of mine, and I was sorry it couldn't have been any more intimate.

"Please take care of yourself, okay? Write me when you can."

"Yes, Missus Kasuga." I paused and gathered my courage. "I'll miss you."

"Don't be so sad," she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You just keep acting nice towards the girls, and I am sure you will find one of your own someday. So that means you'll have to grow strong again and get out of that wheelchair."

"But it's so much work trying to snag one," I complained. "And all the girls I know back home are shallow and conceited and make fun of me."

"Alan, are you trying to tell me I'm an easy woman?"

"What? Oh, no, no!"

"Then I want you to look again among those girls. I'm sure not all of them are that bad." I heard her husband chuckle and wondered how much English he understood. "They just don't know you well enough, I guess. If you want something that much, I'm afraid you'll have to work for it."

"Yes, Missus Kasuga."

She nodded to me and made a little wave of the hand. Then she beckoned to her husband and, together with him, went down the steps. They stood at the bottom and said, "Thank you for everything" in unison. Well, she said 'thank you for everything.' He just said 'thank you.'

I watched them walk away on the dirt road. They disappeared behind the rise, and I sighed. There went the angel of St. Mary's. I knew I would never see her again.

-oOo-

"Kyousuke, aren't you going to teleport us to town yet?"

"Just a little further, Madoka."

"But we're so far from the house already! They can't see us anymore."

"Just to be on the safe side."

"Oh, have it your way."

"Madoka?"

"What?"

"Do you think anyone will pass by here soon?"

"I don't think so, why?"

"Well, we could try it under those trees over there..."

"No! I'm still tired from last night! You are a goat, Kasuga-kun! Keep away from me!"

"Hey, I was only kidding! Don't you dare call me a goat!"

"I'll call you whatever I want–hey, put me down! I—ooh... mmm... are you going to carry me all the way to town?"

"Maybe, if you make it worth my while."

"Mmm-hmm. Then pucker up, lover."

-oOo-

I managed to stagger with her into town, dragging her luggage along behind us with the dint of my esper abilities. It would've been fatal for me to comment on her weight, so I said nothing about my hardship, claiming she was as light as a feather when she asked me if she was too heavy. I don't know if she believed me.

When we got to civilization I let her down and we resumed our more mundane method of locomotion. We were near the port where the tourist boats and fishing skiffs mingled when she stopped me.

"What is it?"

"Wait a moment." She drew out one of the roses—I wondered where the boy had gotten them, as this seemed such an unlikely place for them to be available—and ran past some puzzled native fishermen to the end of one of the piers, where she cast the flower far out into the water. She looked at it for a while, then walked back to me, somehow looking subdued.

"What was that for?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." She took her bags from me and said, "Let's go."

I shrugged and adjusted my own backpack and we hailed one of the island's rare taxicabs—Madoka would later tell me it was one of only two—and told the driver to take us to the airport.

I watched her looking out the window as the cab sped on, staring out at the passing scenery. I tried to fathom what was going on inside her head, but even with my powers I could never discern totally its contents. Nor does she offer an explanation all the time; the nearest I can get to an explanation for her capriciousness is that her beauty imposes upon her a different set of rules, that she must live by, and that others must learn. That is the attraction of the mystery known as Madoka: I realized a long time ago you could never truly call her yours. She is a zephyr off the blue mountains, going her own way, making the Aeolian harps sing with her passing. She is a cat who will do as she pleases, sometimes making you shout in alarm as she walks atop the fence of a neighboring house, while a dog snarls at her from below. She is a rare and beautiful plant, whom you have been suffered to take care of for a while. Joy for a while, joy for a while; and I dread the day when we will finally part. I have wondered, as I lay in bed beside her, or attended the funeral of a friend, whether I myself am human enough to ride the wheel of life, to someday come back and find her again. That would be something as serendipitous and as fortunate as the first time I met her.