THERE HAD TO BE some reason Alan was here. Why he was in a tent a hundred miles from Jeddah, yes, but also why he was alive on Earth? Very often the meaning was obscured. Very often it required some digging. The meaning of his life was an elusive seam of water hundreds of feet below the surface, and he would periodically drop a bucket down the well, fill it, bring it up and drink from it. But this did not sustain him for long. Charlie Fallon’s death made the news all over the country. He stepped into the lake in the morning, fully clothed. Alan saw him only ankle-deep and thought not much of it. The Transcendentalist was getting muddy. Alan drove on. But Charlie stepped in deeper. He did it slowly. Other neighbors saw him up to his knees, his waist. No one said anything. Finally he was standing with the water at his chest and Lynn Maggliano called the police. They came, and the fire department came, too. They stood on the shore and they yelled to him. They told him to come back. But no one went to get him.
