Transcendence

haven’t called yet, but they’ll start checking up on me soon. “My parents are still pretty strict about pretty much everything. I wish they could be cooler. More like Janine.”

Griffon glances toward the open door. “She is pretty cool,” he says. “I got lucky this time—I’ve never had an Akhet in the family before now. Makes things a lot easier.”

“She doesn’t even seem that much older than we are.”

He nods. “I’ve been Akhet a lot longer than she has, even though she’s physically older in this life. Evens things out some.” Griffon stands up and grabs two leather jackets from hooks by the door. “As long as you don’t have to be home right away, how about we go for a ride before I take you back to the station?”

I can’t hide my smile. Somewhere deep inside of me, hope stirs and stretches. “Sounds good.”

Eleven

We wind our way through Berkeley, no longer as congested now that rush hour is over. After passing the University campus, we begin to climb the dark streets higher and higher until we’re in parts of Berkeley that I’ve never seen before. The wind is weak but cold, and I hide as much of myself behind Griffon as I can, sinking into his jacket and letting his shoulders block the breeze. Leaving the houses behind, we enter Tilden Park, driving slowly along the winding roads as the moon throws shadows from the tall trees surrounding us on either side. I don’t care where we’re going, as long as I can sit quietly behind him, feeling his muscles shift and tense as he eases the bike in and out of turns.

At the top of a ridge, he pulls over into a dirt turnout flanked by giant boulders. Coasting to a stop, he holds the bike steady so I can slide off the back. As he turns the engine off, the silence surrounds us, punctuated only by the chirping of unseen frogs and the occasional hoot of an owl.

“Have you ever been up here?” he asks, pulling his helmet off.

“I think we used to come up here to ride the train,” I say, looking around. “But it’s been a long time.”

“The steam train is just down there,” he says, pointing away from the ridge. “There’s a carousel and a little farm too.”

“And pony rides.” I suddenly remember crying and being taken off a small white pony when I was little. Luckily, this memory is only a few years old, not a few hundred.

I can see his smile in the darkness. “I used to go there too,” he says. “I think every kid in the Bay Area had to have their sixth birthday at the Little Farm. I loved those ponies, even though all they did was go around and around in a circle.”

“It’s amazing how many of the same places we’ve both been over the years. We might have passed each other a million times at the park or on the street,” I say, watching a set of car headlights round the bend below us. “But we didn’t meet until we were both in London.”

Griffon walks to the edge and looks out at the lights that dot the city below us, then across the dark span of water to San Francisco. For once, the fog has retreated back under the Golden Gate Bridge, and it seems like you can see forever. “Maybe we did meet before,” he says. “But the timing wasn’t right. Your essence sometimes crosses paths with others through many lifetimes.”

I walk a few steps toward the edge and feel my heart start to pound.

Griffon turns to look back at me. “Come here and check out all the lights.”

Looking past him to where the solid ground drops out of sight, I know that this is as far as I can go. “I can’t.”

“Afraid of heights?”

I nod. “Totally.” I swallow hard to keep the rising panic down.

“You know I won’t let you fall, right?” he says, walking a few steps back to me.

“I know,” I say. “It’s almost like I don’t trust myself. Like I might lose control and jump. I’ve always been this way.” I stand on my tiptoes to look over the edge. “I can see fine from here.”

Griffon laughs and moves back beside me. “You’re right,” he says, looking around. “It’s fine from here.”

We stand looking at the view from the safety of our spot. “So,” I begin, wanting to get back to our other conversation, “do you think we’ve had a relationship before?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I’ve searched my memories, but I haven’t found anything.” He looks at the smile on my face. “What?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Oh, now you have to tell me.”

“It’s just that I don’t think I’ll be able to get over it if we were like mother and son another time. Or worse.”

“Well, don’t worry about it. We’ve never had a relationship before. The fact that you’re starting to get some of your memories is probably the reason that we know each other now. Like I said, Akhet are often drawn to other Akhet, even if they don’t know the reasons why. Figuring it out is all part of the fun.”

I zip the jacket up tighter and set my backpack down at my feet. It’s even colder up here on the ridge, but I’m not ready to go back home. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to go back home.

“Have you ever seen so many lights?” Griffon says, scanning the scene below.

“It makes me think of all of the people who are down there,” I say. “Hundreds of thousands of them.” I shiver involuntarily. “Makes me feel small. Unimportant.”

“I know what you mean,” Griffon says a little sadly. “You try to do big things, you know? Things that might change the world. But then you come up here and realize that you’re just one tiny person in the middle of it all.” He turns to look at me. “You’re cold. We should go.”

“No, not just yet.” I glance up at him, feeling the sharp wind but not wanting this night to end. “I want to stay for just a little while longer. It’s beautiful.”

“Come here,” he says, pulling me closer. “I’ll keep you warm.”

I stand in front of him, leaning my head back almost imperceptibly until it rests on his chest. Even through our jackets, I can feel the hum of his vibrations, and I inhale, trying to keep his scent so that I can remember it when I’m at home alone. I don’t care what he can do—if he can name every date on the calendar or have a one- man show at the biggest art gallery in the city. I just know that I want to be with him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in the world.

After a few moments, Griffon relaxes and slowly puts one arm around me. I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck as he bends his head down toward mine, and the sensation causes me to visibly tense. Despite the shivers traveling up my spine, I try to stay still, not knowing if he’s just trying to warm me up, but not wanting to break the energy that’s forming between us.

I try to keep my focus on the tiny lights of the cars as they cross the bridge, but Griffon’s fingertips pull my hair aside and his lips brush the back of my neck so gently it seems like I’m imagining it. Barely breathing, I close my eyes as his lips trace my neck and then plant small kisses just below my ear. Unable to stand still any longer, I turn to face him, threading my hands under his jacket until I can feel the warm cotton of the back of his shirt.

Griffon pulls back and looks at me. Even in the darkness I can see the indecision on his face, and I will it to be just a few seconds earlier when his lips were still on my skin.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he says, and reaches behind his back to unclasp my hands. He steps back toward the bike, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. The moment was perfect, and now it’s gone.

“It’s okay. You can tell me if you’ve got a girlfriend.”

“It’s not that,” he says loudly. Griffon rakes his fingers through his hair. “I only wish it were that easy.” He paces in the dirt for a few seconds, kicking up little puffs of dust that disappear over the ridge. “I’ve tried so hard to stay away from you,” he finally says, standing several feet away from me. He starts pacing again. “I really shouldn’t be doing this—”

I hold my hands up, afraid of what he might say next. “It’s okay,” I say. “I don’t want to do anything to come between you and anyone else—”

“There is no one else,” he says quickly. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Not like you mean it. I haven’t had one in this lifetime. Intentionally.”

I stand still, waiting for more of an explanation. I find it hard to believe that he’s telling the truth, but the