you, it changes everything. Just as when we climb to a mountaintop and view the full majesty of a landscape, we can never be content to live in the valley again.”
“But how did I become aware ?”
She looked a bit guilty. “I think that when our eyes met that first day, you awakened . Now you must decide whether to treat it as fate or live it as your destiny.”
I frowned. “What’s the difference?”
“We make choices that change our lives every day.” The edges of her mouth curled up. “You could have ignored me—twice—but you did not. Why?”
I probably should have. “I guess it was my fate?”
She shook a finger at me. “Fate is a passive response. Destiny is something in which we play an active role.” She looked into my eyes as she continued. “To do otherwise is to view your life as a spectator and let fate carry you downstream like a twig.”
I closed my eyes and tried to understand.
“You are not the same person you were that day,” she said, “and you will never be again. You must accept that. It was the same with me.”
I looked up in surprise. “You’ve been through this, too?”
She nodded and took another spoonful of ice cream. “I was eight. I woke up earlier than usual one morning and went outside. A thin fog hung over the grass and I felt the air ripple. Suddenly, all sorts of new sounds surrounded me—it was amazing. Every blade of grass whispered a message to me.”
“Were you scared?”
She thought that over for a while. “I think knowing eliminates fear. It brings a new confidence. But it was frightening to realize something had changed inside me.” She wiped her face with a napkin and smiled at me. “But it is not something to fear.”
“So you hear messages, too?”
“Yes, but not here. The noise here overwhelms me, as if my head is under a waterfall. I have to block everything out, but that leaves me deaf, like last night. And I do not like that.”
“But you can hear when you’re in other places?”
She nodded.
“What causes that wave of energy?”
She frowned. “You ask answers for things I have never questioned.” Then she held her hands toward the sky. “Can you feel that?”
I glanced around. I didn’t feel a thing.
She giggled. “Actually, I cannot right now either, but it is the earth’s energy. It is all around us, speaking to us, and if our energy is strong enough, we can disrupt the earth’s energy field and make it shift, somewhat like a strong ocean wave.” She paused and looked at me, eyebrows together. “And your energy is strong enough to do that.”
She concentrated on her sundae until she’d cleaned the cup of every drop.
I sighed. “Do you ever get a tingly feeling in the back of your neck?”
“Sometimes when I eat ice cream then drink hot chocolate my head hurts,” she said, still working her spoon into the edges.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not talking about brain freeze.” I hesitated, unsure how to explain myself. “I get this … this tingling sensation before something bad happens—which is pretty much every time I’m with you.”
She laughed. “Did you feel it last night?”
“Yeah, right before the guy hit me with the wood.”
“Any time today?”
I nodded. “On the cable car.”
She stood up and glanced toward the wastebasket. Then she threw her empty cups and they both went in, two perfect shots from eight feet away. She turned back to me. “There are many ways to sense things,” she said, her eyes serious. “I suppose this tingle you feel may be a form of intuition. I have heard of such things, but intuition is a woman’s gift. At least where I come from.”
That’s what Okaasan had told me. “And you come from Japan, right?”
She paused. “Yes.”
“And you’re not a crazy assassin or anything?”
She laughed as she shouldered her pack. “No.”
I nodded and threw my cup toward the wastebasket. It missed by a mile.
We left Ghirardelli’s and walked down to the beach, past
“But how did I become aware ?”
She looked a bit guilty. “I think that when our eyes met that first day, you awakened . Now you must decide whether to treat it as fate or live it as your destiny.”
I frowned. “What’s the difference?”
“We make choices that change our lives every day.” The edges of her mouth curled up. “You could have ignored me—twice—but you did not. Why?”
I probably should have. “I guess it was my fate?”
She shook a finger at me. “Fate is a passive response. Destiny is something in which we play an active role.” She looked into my eyes as she continued. “To do otherwise is to view your life as a spectator and let fate carry you downstream like a twig.”
I closed my eyes and tried to understand.
“You are not the same person you were that day,” she said, “and you will never be again. You must accept that. It was the same with me.”
I looked up in surprise. “You’ve been through this, too?”
She nodded and took another spoonful of ice cream. “I was eight. I woke up earlier than usual one morning and went outside. A thin fog hung over the grass and I felt the air ripple. Suddenly, all sorts of new sounds surrounded me—it was amazing. Every blade of grass whispered a message to me.”
“Were you scared?”
She thought that over for a while. “I think knowing eliminates fear. It brings a new confidence. But it was frightening to realize something had changed inside me.” She wiped her face with a napkin and smiled at me. “But it is not something to fear.”
“So you hear messages, too?”
“Yes, but not here. The noise here overwhelms me, as if my head is under a waterfall. I have to block everything out, but that leaves me deaf, like last night. And I do not like that.”
“But you can hear when you’re in other places?”
She nodded.
“What causes that wave of energy?”
She frowned. “You ask answers for things I have never questioned.” Then she held her hands toward the sky. “Can you feel that?”
I glanced around. I didn’t feel a thing.
She giggled. “Actually, I cannot right now either, but it is the earth’s energy. It is all around us, speaking to us, and if our energy is strong enough, we can disrupt the earth’s energy field and make it shift, somewhat like a strong ocean wave.” She paused and looked at me, eyebrows together. “And your energy is strong enough to do that.”
She concentrated on her sundae until she’d cleaned the cup of every drop.
I sighed. “Do you ever get a tingly feeling in the back of your neck?”
“Sometimes when I eat ice cream then drink hot chocolate my head hurts,” she said, still working her spoon into the edges.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not talking about brain freeze.” I hesitated, unsure how to explain myself. “I get this … this tingling sensation before something bad happens—which is pretty much every time I’m with you.”
She laughed. “Did you feel it last night?”
“Yeah, right before the guy hit me with the wood.”
“Any time today?”
I nodded. “On the cable car.”
She stood up and glanced toward the wastebasket. Then she threw her empty cups and they both went in, two perfect shots from eight feet away. She turned back to me. “There are many ways to sense things,” she said, her eyes serious. “I suppose this tingle you feel may be a form of intuition. I have heard of such things, but intuition is a woman’s gift. At least where I come from.”
That’s what Okaasan had told me. “And you come from Japan, right?”
She paused. “Yes.”
“And you’re not a crazy assassin or anything?”
She laughed as she shouldered her pack. “No.”
I nodded and threw my cup toward the wastebasket. It missed by a mile.
We left Ghirardelli’s and walked down to the beach, past
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