Chapter Twenty-one - Virgil
The two got their coffee and strolled to the end of the pier. It was a ritual now. Cloud cover was moving in. McQueen and Kylen could not see the stars but they could make out the lights on several boats and over on the mainland. They each silently spent time in their own thoughts. Kylen brought her mind back to the presence of the man at her side. "The Black Prince," Kylen thought. "It fits." She finally screwed up her courage and spoke.
"Are you okay with Amy? I mean, she didn't want to come. It seems often like you two just met. It seems strange - like you don't know each other very well." It was a few seconds before he answered.
"We never have. It just didn't seem important at the time," McQueen muttered ironically, looking out towards the horizon, which was invisible in the darkness. "You are right. We didn't know each other at all. I haven't seen her in almost five years."
McQueen had given Winslow information - had shared part of his private life with her. He had wanted to share something - had wanted someone else to know something about his life before he died. McQueen had felt his chances with the Chig ace were not good, and he wanted to go out in three dimensions. McQueen didn't want to check out as only a symbol. He had told Kelly Winslow because she had sensed his withdrawal and had been concerned, and simply, because she had asked. McQueen knew that Kylen was earnestly trying not to ask. And that she had undoubtedly been wanting to ask since the day she had turned up at the Clinic. McQueen just really didn't know what to tell her.
"This is the second time she has shown up when I was trying to put things back together. We met at Loxley soon after my liberation from the Silicate Camp. She was like a dream. I had never even stood close to anyone or anything like her." He smiled to himself. "Be very careful what you wish for Kylen." McQueen said it like a benediction. " Believe one who has tried it," he added with irony.
"She was who you wanted." Kylen murmured. A gentle statement.
"She was 'what' I wanted," McQueen said.
"You loved her," Kylen said softly.
"Probably. I know that I loved the 'idea' of her," McQueen said. "I couldn't believe that I had found her - That she belonged to me." He watched the ocean. Kylen remained quiet at his side. It was several moments before he spoke again.
"I should have left things as they were. She wasn't prepared. I tried to tell her. I wasn't prepared." McQueen paused again. 'He who knows he has enough is rich.'" his whispered more to himself than to her. A few moments later he looked at Kylen. "Lao-tzu," he said.
"You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough," Kylen said. "William Blake," she added after a moment. Kylen felt strongly that McQueen had every right to grab for things he wanted.
"Manifest plainness, embrace simplicity, reduce selfishness, have few desires," he said. It was obviously a precept of importance to him. He had begun to embrace it after his liberation and it was, in fact, how he had tried to live since facing his addictions.
"Those who restrain their desires, do so because they are weak enough to be restrained," Kylen said reasonably, as one would explain something to a child. Kylen could see that McQueen would boil things down to their simplest level. That he would 'keep it simple.' However, Tao was not a philosophy that she grasped on any sort of personal level
"There is no calamity greater than lavish desires," McQueen said after a pause. Amy had been a lavish desire and a real calamity.
"He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence," Kylen warned.
He betrayed no reaction to her statement. McQueen was debating with himself. "Is she really such a slave to her own desires? Does she really embrace such a life? No, no, it doesn't ring true. It is frustration, perhaps bravado - A way that she wished that she could live, perhaps. But it is not how she actually moves through her life. How she looks out for those around her, looks to their comfort and cares - this is how she really lives." Kylen had probably never been a slave to desire - at least not in the way that he had been. But she had unknowingly given him a good deal of information about herself.
Kylen looked out over the water and spoke contemplatively. "The whole point is not to find the right person but to be the right person, isn't it? But ... Well, people can't belong to you. The whole point is that you belong to them. Only then they are yours," she tried to explain.
"Why, Kylen, that is almost Tao," he said, changing tone and Kylen felt him close the door to that part of his life again. They relaxed and watched the ocean.
Before too long, the threatened rain began to fall. It began lightly, but it was November in Maine. The rain was cold and stinging and laced with sleet. They were forced to quit the ocean.
"I wish we had some umbrella's," Kylen said as they got to the car. "I love this kind of weather." She looked longingly out towards the water. "There is no one else here. You can be by yourself. It's so private."
"Marines don't use umbrellas," McQueen stated as he entered the car, glad to be out of the weather.
"What?" Kylen asked as she got in.
"Marines' don't use umbrellas," he repeated.
"Never?"
"Not in uniform."
"Not ever? If I was with you, you couldn't stand under mine?" she asked, bemused by the customs of the Corps.
He just gave her a look.
They made their way back to The Barn. A fire and a brandy sounded just about perfect. Kylen was driving the little red car borrowed from her brother. The rain had picked up and the wind was bringing down the last of the leaves. The roads were empty. Kylen was moving at a pretty good clip. The curve was the last one before the turn off to Dale's place and she took it a little too fast for the conditions. The rear end of the light little car slid to the right and fishtailed. Time went into slow motion as Kylen corrected for the skid. It was a well-learned response. Automatic; a muscle memory. She did over steer, however, and the car's back end slid over to the left. She was halfway trough that recorrect before the adrenaline even hit her. Kylen drove on, now obeying the speed limit. She braced herself and waited for McQueen to voice his criticism. She would have to wait a long time.
"Not bad, Kylen," he complimented. "You handled that pretty well." It was his considered opinion. Not first class, but not bad at all.
"If I was that good, I wouldn't have slid around that corner."
"But then you would have missed the rush," he offered, flashing her a grin like a child.
Kylen wanted to see his face and was forced to glance back and forth from him to the road. But she did catch a least one really good look of something she hadn't seen before. An open and gleaming quality in his face, and his eyes totally untamed. Kylen knew that she had caught something. It was only a glimpse, and a glimpse of a reflection at best. But it was a bit of the soul of a fighter pilot. She knew McQueen was good. Radford had said he was one of the best of the best, and Radford had told her about the air battle. But for the first time she really could see McQueen - this man she knew, this man sitting next to her - tear-assing all over the sky.
"Pilots," she said affably.
"'Fortune favors the bold,'" he intoned with great solemnity, but he was wearing his half smile.
Kylen should have felt chastened. Her carelessness had almost caused an accident, but she felt a sudden freedom. It was like running down hill - only just barely in control.
The little red car pulled up in front of Steinbeck's place. Kylen pulled up as close to the porch as she could, but it didn't really matter. McQueen could only move so fast with his cane - they would both be soaked by the time they made the porch. They tried to run, but after about six steps they gave up and just walked the rest of the way.
Kylen reached for McQueen's arm as he started up the stairs. He shook her off. It was good-natured enough, but his intention was clear.
"OK," she said and held her hands up in the time honored 'I surrender' gesture.
McQueen made it to the third step before he slipped. A rather unceremonious spill face down on the steps, barking both shins nastily as he hit.
"Man, that left leg is going to have a spectacular bruise tomorrow," Kylen thought, but kept her tongue.
McQueen gave the offending stair a good whack and growled out his humiliation and frustration.
Kylen sat down next to him in the rain. "Amy, Hammerheads and now his leg - How many disappointments?" She tried to offer him hope. "Nathan told me that he pilots other planes. The Izzy? You'll be able to still do that won't you?" She sounded ridiculous even to herself and was instantly sorry that she had said it.
"The are only two types of aircraft, Kylen. Fighters and targets," he grumbled still belly down. He did not look at her.
Kylen looked up into the rain, letting it sting her face. Her attempt to lighten his spirits had fallen flat. "I'm beyond my depth here." She turned to look down at his back and finally patted his shoulder saying: "Perhaps someday it will be pleasant to remember even this."
McQueen had no idea what she meant. "Is she being optimistic or pessimistic?" he wondered. McQueen slowly rolled unto his side and leaned on one elbow to look at her.
"Job, huh?" he asked her.
"Answered and blessed, McQueen. Answered and blessed," she replied. Kylen smiled and helped him to his feet and into the house. A fire and a brandy seemed just about perfect.
End Chapter Twenty-one
