From Robert Fulghum, author of All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten comes a unique novel. In fairy tales, the third wish is the last one left when the first wish was foolish, and the second wish was used to undo the first wish. Now the remaining wish must be used wisely and well--with the help of co-conspirators. The main thread of Third Wish--like Ariadne's string guiding Theseus into the labyrinth with the Minotaur--begins at a table on a terrace on the Greek Island of Crete, winds its way into the center and back out to the same table, passing through Greece, Japan, France, England, and Seattle. Its main characters are Alice, Max-Pol, Aleko, Wonko, Zenkichi, Polydora, Alice-Alice, and Dog. Woven into the fabric of the novel are cultural history, art, philosophy, archeology, poetry, theater and music. The mode of the novel is contained in the words Slowly, Surprise, and Witness. More than anything else, Third Wish is a long love story--not in the usual sense--but the story of people who love life and will go to great lengths to find a flourishing Way onward.

SANAA

Slowly.

Sanaa walked slowly down the stone steps into the steaming water of the outdoor hot spring pool. Shivering when the wind drove snow against her bare skin, she resisted the urge to hurry. Morioka had been emphatic: “Slowly, slowly- must go in slowly. Remember.” The particular minerals and high heat of this spring at Arinna would serve to set the ink on her body. But until the ink reacted, quick motion in the water would blur the design. Morika had told her to sit in the water up to her chin, stay as long ash could stand it, and then stay a little longer than that.

Slowly, Sanaa sat down in what looked and smelled like carrot soup. Hot! Hot enough to hurt. To take her mind away from the scalding water she concentrated on watching snowflakes drift into the stream becoming clouds becoming snow becoming steam. The seamless cycle.

Hot! Panic. Heart racing, gasping for breath, Sanaa scrambled out of the ferocious heat of the pool into the relief of the snowy cold. Calming down, she reached for her towel. And for the first time she noticed her arm.

The invisible tattoo was now visible.

Sanaa dried her face, put on her glasses and looked again. Against the rosiness of her skin was the promised white filigree of Morioka's calligraphy.

She walked back into her dressing room and stood before the mirror.

Across her breast and down her arms were poems in faint Japanese. Turning slowly she saw the image of Kannon, the goddess of mercy, laid as a lacy shawl across her shoulders and down her back. Like a formal mi-e of a Kabuki actor, she stood still, holding a pose that made the moment indelible in her memory. So just so.

But still not quite the real thing. Not a real tattoo done with steel needles. Morioka had refused her that. Sanaa thought he was testing her will. Using a staining ink mixed to match the color of her pale skin, he had decorated her body to let her see what it might be like to have the invisible tattoo. When he was finished she could not see the design. Only heat would declare the contrast between skin and ink.

And hot water was only a substitute for the true catalyst: passion.

The invisible tattoo was meant to be seen in the heat of passion- the flush brought to the flesh by rapture - a gift made visible only by one's beloved. Moreover, he said this invisible tattoo would soon fade away. When Morioka explained this she had not replied. He wondered if she fully understood what he meant. She did.

Sanaa considered her decorated body in the mirror.

Who could she show this to? She had no audience for even this painted substitute for the real thing. There really was no one she cared that much about. At least not now. So why go on to have the invisible the tattoo etched into her skin. All that pain and money and time invested in what? Amusement? Sex? Love? No. Would there come a time? Maybe. view abbreviated excerpt only...

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