Saving Elijah

it."
    "Whatever. Almost killed is almost killed."
    He stared at me for a moment, then said, "Maybe that's why I'm here. To make up for that. And because I feel sorry for you."
    "You never felt sorry for anyone in your life."
    "Ah," he said, raising a finger, "but I am no longer alive. That tends to change one." He positioned his hands on the guitar and played the first few bars of an old Cat Stevens song, about being followed by moon shadows.
    "You are not helping me. You're destroying my hope."
    I wanted to see Elijah, needed to see him. I moved toward the button that would start up the elevator again, but was catapulted back by a blast of arctic air. I cowered in a corner.
    "The only thing I'm doing, my Dinah, is helping you see the truth. I'm for you, only for you."
    He kept saying that. " 'Only for me!' What does that mean?"
    "It means what it means," the ghost said.
    "Please stop telling me riddles."
    "Riddles? Here's one. What animal goes on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?"
    The Riddle of the Sphinx, solved by Oedipus. Of course it was Seth. "Get out of my way." I moved toward the button again. This time I pressed it, and the elevator lurched upward.
    "Some people just can't face the truth, Dinah," the ghost said. "Looks like you're one of them. You and Seth's father." Seth had loathed his father, I knew, though I never found out exactly why, and never met the man. Our relationship hadn't lasted long enough for that.
    "The father of Seth Lucien, when he was alive, I mean," the ghost said.
    But Seth Lucien stopped being alive more than twenty years ago. What was he doing in the middle of my catastrophe, prattling on, playing tricks with my mind, plunging me into my past, tormenting me with the future?
    The elevator door opened. Fourth floor. PICU. Sam was standing there.
    The ghost made a little bow. "Ah, the fellow you threw Seth over for," he said.
    "Your mom called the desk," Sam said. "She thought you might need me."
    "I didn't throw him over for anyone." I stepped out of the elevator. "This is my husband. We've been married for twenty-one years. What's wrong with you?"
    "I'm dead," he said. "That's what's wrong with me. And the truth is, maybe this really is all your doing."
    I froze in mid-stride.
    "Dinah?" Sam said.
    Maybe the ghost was right. Maybe God was punishing me for the awful things I'd done—and not done—all those years ago, when I was with Seth. And after. Hell on earth for defects of character, mistakes made, foolish choices, selfishness.
    I turned around, but the elevator doors had closed behind me, and the ghost was inside.

twelve
    I met him in Political Science 100. The professor—Murray Grunwald, of the rancid yellowish hair and matching beard—used no notes and took no questions during his hour-long lectures to three hundred intimidated students, mostly freshmen. Paced back and forth like a caged animal, ticked off points in outline form. Point 1! he'd cry. Then he'd make points la through lg, then move on to point 2, 2a through 2k. And so on.
    Point 6p! he cried on a certain late September morning. And from the back of the classroom, a voice, casual and deep: "You were on point 6n, professor."
    Everyone turned to look at the young man who'd spoken out.
    Including Julie, who sat next to me. "God!" she gasped. "Do you see him?"
    "Yes!" I whispered back, having by this time stopped thinking about the boy I'd met in the registration line the first week; he hadn't asked me out and I never ran into him again. Besides, this guy was incredible. I'd noticed him at the beginning of class. How had I missed him all these weeks? I'd never seen anyone with such sleek good looks. Such prominent bones, so handsome and dark, with thick black hair and an intense brow, he reminded me of a beautiful animal, a hawk or a panther.
    "Thank you. Point 6n," an unfazed Dr. Grunwald said, then resumed pacing without missing a beat.
    Seth caught my eye and smiled, and I quickly looked away.
    "Did you see that?" Julie whispered. "You want him, he's yours. If you don't hurry and find a guy to sleep with, you're going to end up the last virgin on earth."
    Practically the first day in the dorm, Julie and I had been issued the Virgin Challenge by one of our roommates, a Pennsylvania congressman's daughter.
    "Are you virgins?" she asked.
    I didn't know what to say. We both were.
    "Are you?" Julie struck a pose, one hand on a bony hip.
    Janet threw her head back and laughed. "Are you