The Alchemist

66

Ottawa , December 2007

The plane touched down at Ottawa ’s small airport with a squeal of tyres. Some time later, Ben walked out into the cold, crisp air. A flurry of snow swept over him as he climbed into a waiting taxicab. The Sinatra version of I’ll Be Home for Christmas was playing on the radio, and a silvery length of tinsel dangled from the rear-view mirror.

‘Where to, buddy?’ the driver asked, turning his head round to look at him.

‘ Carleton University campus,’ Ben said.

‘Here for Christmas?’ the driver asked as the car glided smoothly round the city’s broad, snowy-banked circular road.

‘Just passing through.’

The lecture theatre at Carleton’s science block was full when Ben arrived. He found a seat in the back row of the sloping auditorium, near the central exit. He and the 300 or so students had come to hear a biology lecture by Drs D. Wright and R. Kaminski. Its subject was Effects of Weak Electromagnetic Fields on Cell Respiration.

There was a low murmur of conversation in the theatre. The students all had pads and pens at the ready to make notes. Down below the auditorium was a small stage with a podium and two chairs, a couple of microphone stands, a slide projector and screen. The lecturers hadn’t yet appeared on the stage.

Ben hadn’t the least bit of interest in the subject of the lecture. But he did have an interest in Dr R. Kaminski.

The theatre went quiet and there was a discreet round of applause as the two lecturers, a man and a woman, walked on to the stage. They took their positions on either side of the podium. They introduced themselves to the audience, their voices coming through the PA system, and the lecture began.

Roberta was blonde now, her hair pulled back in a pony-tail. She looked every bit the serious scientist, just as she had when he’d first met her. Ben was pleased that she’d taken his advice and changed her name. She’d taken quite a bit of finding-that was a good sign.

Around him, the attentive students were deep in concentration and scribbling notes. He sank a little in his seat, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He couldn’t understand the words she was saying, but over the speakers the tone of her voice, the warm soft sound of her breath, felt so close that he could almost feel her touching him.

It wasn’t until that moment that he fully realized how much he’d longed to see her again, and how badly he was going to miss her.

He’d known, even as he was setting out for Canada, that this was going to be the last time he would see her. He didn’t plan to hang around long. He’d just wanted to check that she was safe and well, and to say a private goodbye. Before coming into the lecture, he’d left an envelope for her at the main reception desk. In it was her red address book, and a brief note from him to let her know he’d got back all right from France.

He watched her co-lecturer Dan Wright. He could see from the man’s body language-the way he seemed to want to stay close to her on the stage, the way he nodded and smiled when she was talking, the way his eyes followed her as she moved between the lecture podium and the screen-that he liked her. Maybe he liked her a lot. He seemed like a decent kind of guy, Ben thought. The kind that Roberta really deserved. Steady, dependable, a scientist like her, a family kind of man who would make a good husband, and a good father one day.

Ben sighed. He’d done what he planned to do, finished what he came for. Now he waited for his cue to leave. As soon as she turned her back for a few seconds, he would slip away.

It wasn’t easy. He’d run through this moment a million times in his mind over the last couple of days. But now, being in her presence with the sound of her voice washing over him through the PA system, it seemed unthinkable to him that he was about to walk out of here, take the next flight back home and never see her again.

But does it have to be like this? he thought. What if he didn’t leave? What if he stayed? Could they make a go of it, have a life together? Did it really have to end this way?

Yes, this is the best way. Think of her. If you love her, you have to walk away.

‘…And the biological effect of this EM waveform can be illustrated by this diagram here,’ Roberta was saying. With a smile at Dr Wright she picked up a laser pointer from the lecture podium and turned round to aim the red beam at the image that flashed up on the big screen behind her.

Her back was turned for a few seconds. This is it, Ben thought. He took a deep breath, made his decision, tore himself out of his seat and made his way quickly towards the centre aisle.

Just as he’d started up the aisle, a ginger-haired girl in the back row put her hand up to ask a question. ‘Dr Kaminski?’

Roberta spun round from the screen. ‘Yes?’ she said, scanning the audience for a raised hand.

‘I wondered if you could please explain the connection between rising endorphin levels and shifting T-lymphocyte cell cycles?’

Ben disappeared through the door and made for the outer exit. The cold hit him as he stepped outside.

‘Dr Kaminski…?’ the ginger-haired girl repeated quizzically.

But Dr Kaminski hadn’t heard the question. She was staring up at the exit where she’d just seen someone walk out.

‘I-I’m sorry,’ she murmured absently into the microphone, and cupped her hand over it with a thump that jolted the PA speakers. ‘Dan, you take over from here,’ she whispered urgently to an astonished Dr Wright.

Then, as the lecture theatre erupted into a frantic buzz of chatter and confusion, Roberta jumped off the stage and ran up the centre aisle. Students twisted in their seats and craned their necks to watch her as she sprinted past. On the stage, Dan Wright’s mouth was hanging open.

Ben hurried down the steps of the glass-fronted science building and walked briskly away across the snow-covered university campus with a heavy heart. Drifting flakes spiralled down around him from the steely grey sky. He pulled his coat collar up around his neck. Through a gap in the squat buildings that formed a wide square around the edges of the campus he could see the road in the distance, and the university parking lot and taxi-rank. A couple of taxis were standing by, their roofs and windows dusted with snow.

He breathed a deep sigh and headed that way. A plane roared deafeningly overhead, taking off from the nearby airport. He’d be there in ten minutes, killing time before his flight out of here.

She burst out of the double doors and into the falling snow, and looked across the campus from the top of the steps. Her eyes settled on a figure in the distance, and she instantly knew it was him. He was almost at the taxi-rank. The driver was out of the car, opening the rear door for him. She knew that if he got into that car, she’d never see him again.

She yelled his name, but her voice was drowned out by the sudden thunder of a 747 flying low over Carleton, the red maple-leaf Air Canada symbol on its tailplane.

He hadn’t heard her.

She ran, slipping in the snow in her indoor shoes. She felt the icy wind cooling the hot tears on her face. She yelled his name again, and in the distance the tiny figure tensed and froze.

‘Ben! Don’t go!‘He heard her shout, far away behind him, and shut his eyes. There was a note of something like desperation, almost a scream of pain, in her voice that made his throat tighten. He slowly turned to see her running towards him across the empty square, her arms open wide, footprints tracing a weaving line behind her in the snow.

‘You coming, mister?’ asked the taxi driver.

Ben didn’t reply. His hand was resting on the edge of the car door. He sighed and pushed the door shut. ‘Looks like I’m staying a while longer.’

The taxi driver grinned, following Ben’s gaze. ‘Looks like you are, mister.’

With a flood of emotions, Ben turned and walked towards the approaching figure. His walk quickened into a trot and then a run. He had tears in his eyes as he called her name.

They came together at the edge of the square, and she flew into his arms.

He spun her round and round. There were snowflakes in her hair.