Page 107 of I Am the Messenger

He says, "A friend once gave this to me, Ed--it's for luck." He holds it out to me. "I want you to have it."

At first, we all look down at it, not speaking.

My voice takes me by surprise.

"No," I say. "I can't take it, Lua."

His quiet, gentle words are calm but urgent. His eyes are wild with sincerity. "No, Ed--you have to. You've given us so much. More than you'll ever know." He holds out the stone again and goes to the extent of putting it in my palm and closing my hand to hold it firmly. He holds my hand in both of his. "It's yours."

"Not only for luck," Marie tells me. "Also for remembering."

Now I accept the stone and look at it. "Thank you," I say to both of them. "I'll look after it."

Lua places his hand on my shoulder. "I know."

The three of us stand in the kitchen together.

When I leave, Marie kisses me on the cheek and we say goodbye.

"Remember," she says. "Come back anytime. You're always welcome here."

"Thank you," I reply, and head out the front door.

Lua wants to drive me home, but I refuse, mainly because I really do feel like walking tonight. We shake hands, Lua crushing me once again.

He walks me out to the edge of the front lawn and wants an answer to one final question.

"Let me ask you something, Ed." We're a few steps apart.

"Of course."

He moves a little further away as we stand in the dark. Behind us, the lights still glow proudly in the night. This is the moment of truth.

Lua says, "You never lived in our house, Ed. Did you?"

There's no hiding it now. No way out.

"No," I answer. "I didn't."

We observe each other, and I can see there are many things that Lua wants to know. He's about to ask when I see him pull back. He prefers not to ruin things with any more questions.

What it is is what it is.

"Bye, Ed."

"Goodbye, Lua."

We shake hands and walk in our different directions.

At the end of the road, just before I go around the corner, I turn one last time to see the lights.

It's the hottest day of the year, and I've got a day shift in the city. The cab has air-conditioning, but it breaks down, much to the disgust of everyone I pick up. I warn them every time they get in, but only one gets back out. It's a man who still has his last lungful of a Winfield in his mouth.

"Bloody hopeless," he tells me.

"I know." I only shrug and agree.

The stone that Lua Tatupu gave me is in my left pocket. It makes me happy in the festering city traffic, even when the lights are green and all the cars remain still.