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envisioning him lying mummy-like in a Swiss clinic, she still believed this crisis would soon be over. Since her family had taken her relationship with Mark lightly, believing that a long-distance romance would lead nowhere, she didn’t share the burden of her aching heart. She laughed. She ate. She tried to listen to the conversations swirling around her and the screaming in her head went unheard.
     
    ***
     
    Mark lay motionless, but his mind was feverish.
    “Zachri, please don’t tell me you’re the angel of death!”
    “No, Mark; that is never my role.”
    “Do you want my confession? In the last few weeks, I’ve thought a lot about the people I mistreated. I wish I could relive those times and make different choices.”
    “Admitting your mistakes is healthy but I’m not here to be your priest.”
    “So what do you want from me?”
    “I want you to accept this gift; the gift of your recovery.”
    “That is precisely what I’ve been asking for. When I wake up, will I remember you as a figment in a dream? Will I remember this at all?”
    “That is not what I said; restoration will not come instantaneously. Remember, I told you that you would be reliving some of the crucial events in your life.
    “ This time you are traveling as a spirit, becoming both a participant and an observer. That gives you the advantage of recognizing the effects of your choices, even on people you didn’t personally meet.”
     
    This couldn’t be real. Even in his most bizarre imaginings, he had never conjured up a ghost or any other kind of spirit and here was one implying that he, Mark, would have a spirit’s trait: the ability to read the minds of complete strangers.
    What he had just heard made him want desperately to stop listening, but the consequences of shutting Zachri out of his life were too unpleasant to contemplate.
    Zachri continued.
    “Nothing you ever faced has such power to alter not only your own life but also the lives of your descendants.
    “ Will you trust me? Shall we begin the journey?”
    Mark reeled at Zachri’s next words:
    “By the way, if you choose not to go, my work with you is finished.”
     
    As this statement sank in, Mark felt his hope fading.
    “Could I make a deal with you, Zachri?”
    Without waiting for a response, Mark continued.
    “What type of restitution could I promise in return for being released immediately from this coma?
    “ I would give all I have - and you know that is a good deal - to the poor; just to hug my son and daughter-in-law, get on the next plane and fall into my lover’s arms as quickly as possible.
    “I need nothing you have, Mark. I am not here to take what is yours. You know why I’ve come.”
    As Zachri said that, Mark became aware that his mom and dad were showing up in his mind’s eye. ‘What if I could see them again when I return to my past? Would I be overjoyed or would it just reawaken my grief?’
    The mental images became more like a motion picture, featuring himself as a teenager.
     
    This scene was eerily familiar: His parents’ home, just before his eighth-grade graduation ceremony. He could almost hear his mom reprimanding him…
    “Mark, your sister says you’ve been reading a book instead of getting dressed. Are your shoes polished? Your hair combed? Your father will be embarrassed if any of his colleagues see you looking rumpled at the podium. Have you practi c ed enough?”
    “Come on, Mom, I’m nervous enough! Lay off, will ya?”
    “I’m sorry, honey. I am very proud of you. It’s just that some of the other parents know your father is on the school board. We don’t want them to think you didn’t earn this honor.”
    “I’m really tired of all the hassle just because people know Dad. I’d prefer to have a family like Wayne’s. His folks don’t make a big deal out of everything. Or, better yet, I’d like to live in India or Africa. African students don’t wear shoes to school. Maybe that’s where I’ll go when I