A Song in the Daylight (49 page)
“You must be so popular at this point.”
“Oh, I am. They argue. But then someone starts shouting, a boy takes the girl’s pencil, the girl says it’s not fair, someone gets a B instead of a B+ and complains heartily…In five minutes their own natural order is restored, and we move on from Epicurus because he cannot help us even for five minutes in the classroom.”
Larissa drank her coffee. She tried not to look at Ezra, her friend since freshman year in college, her friend even before Jared. She wished she were wearing sunglasses, felt like she were. Her eyes felt swollen, she could barely make out Ezra’s amused expression, his smart eyes, his tapping fingers. She didn’t know who she was anymore. But she knew this. He picked her up on his chrome Ducati. His name she knew, like it was tattooed in blue on her electric soul.
“So how do we live, Ezra? How do we all live knowing we’re a walking contradiction? Made up of orderly things on the outside, yet inside us chaos reigns supreme. We are the most erratic, inconsistent, uncertain movement in the universe.”
“Yes, Larissa. Because gods cannot walk the earth,” said Ezra, “without taking the form of beasts. Ask yourself: of all the things you endure and wish for and define yourself as and long for, what is it that makes you break out of your false choices and become that impossible thing: an unbroken undamaged self?”
“There is no such thing.” And this she did whisper.
“Ask yourself what you want to be left with.”
“What if there is no answer?”
“How can there not be an answer?”
“What if there is no
right
answer?”
“Really? Just atoms in a void, Larissa? Well, then, that’s your answer.”
“I don’t understand about your Maggie,” exclaimed Larissa a little too stridently. “Her body is giving out, is getting completely out of whack, and she keeps going to Our Lady of the Rosary. How in the world does God help Maggie?”
“Maggie?” Ezra said surprised. “I thought this was about your students?”
“Oh, it is, it is.”
Ezra stopped speaking, almost as if he wanted to say something and didn’t.
“But what if you can’t be like her?” asked Larissa. “What if you don’t believe?”
“You have to believe in something.”
“What if you believe in…nothing?”
“In nothing? Who believes in this?”
“Well, some of my students.”
“Odd. They usually have very strong beliefs and opinions, even if dunderheaded.” Ezra smiled. “Delightfully dunder-headed.”
“But what does Jesus do for Maggie?”
“I think you may have the relationship reversed,” said Ezra. “Jesus doesn’t come and go as
you
please. He doesn’t serve at
your
pleasure. He is an implacable source of all things, but He is not there for your convenience. Or you will quickly find yourself at a loss.”
“
That
helps her?” It sounded most unhelpful.
“It does.”
“Can someone be, say, a materialist and still believe in God?”
Ezra stared at Larissa with incredulity. “Um, no, Larissa.”
“Why?”
“What do you need God for, if physical matter is your only reality?”
“Why can’t someone believe in God sometimes?” She pressed on. “Like when He is needed?”
“But He is not summoned. You don’t wear Christ like a coat. Take off, put on when it suits. He is not dispensable.”
“No kidding.” Larissa shrugged. Or shuddered? “It doesn’t seem like He makes life questions easier at all.”
“He doesn’t,” Ezra agreed. “He makes them harder. He is an insuperable master.”
“Why would anyone want that?”
“They don’t. Which is why so many people turn away from Him.”
“So what’s in it for Maggie?”
“Ah. What’s in it for Maggie is definite meaning and infinite comfort. Because more so than with anything else, the universe for people with Christ in it is fundamentally different than for those for whom He is not in it. You can instantly tell them apart. The struggle for their own humanity, for significance, for the burden of obligations to others as well as for the destination of Self is markedly different for those for whom He does not enter into the equation of decision-making.”
“And this
helps
Maggie?” Larissa asked skeptically.
“Sure. Her suffering is no longer meaningless. She is profoundly comforted, as by nothing else. Like our Saint Joan, without these things Maggie cannot live.” Ezra paused, and then spoke almost reluctantly. “You know, you never did talk to her, though, like you promised.”
“About what?”
For a moment, Ezra and Larissa stared at each other. Soft rebuke was in his eyes; guilty puzzlement in hers, like she knew he was right, but she couldn’t even recall the conversation in which she had promised the thing for which Ezra was now reproaching her.
“Sorry, Ez,” she said. “I’ll talk to her this weekend. I think we’re going beverage shopping on Saturday for Monday’s party. We’ll have time alone then.” Her coffee long finished, she stood up. “Still,” Larissa said, “I don’t understand why you can’t just put on Christ. Put Him on, take Him off. Johnny Cash did. Your own personal Jesus.”
“Jared,” Larissa said Wednesday evening after coffee and clearing her throat. “What would you think of me going to visit Che?”
He had been reading the sports page and looked up halfheartedly, as if this was a conversation too big—or too trivial—to compete with the absorption of the box scores of last night’s games.
“Visit her where?” He looked back down. The catcher had hit three doubles in yesterday’s game. Was that a record for the catcher?
“In Manila.”
Yes, yes, look! They said it. He broke his own record. Four hits and three doubles in one game. Wow. Would he be playing again tonight? “Manila?”
“Yes. I thought I’d go for two weeks maybe. Ten days? You know how long she’s been trying to get pregnant…”
“If she’s trying to get pregnant, maybe you’re the last thing she needs, if you pardon me for saying so.” Who was pitching tonight? God, no, not him. They have not won once since he’s been on the mound. Jared’s whole outlook soured when he realized who was going to be taking the ball for the Yankees this evening. When was the game starting?
“Jared, Che
is
pregnant. Remember? She is about to have her baby.”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe. It’s not a bad idea.” He glanced at his watch.
“
Really?
I can go?”
It was 7:30 already! He missed the first pitch. Swallowing the last of his coffee, Jared snapped shut the paper and got up from the table. “Sure, why not? Where did you say?”
“Manila, Jared,” Larissa said, exhaustion in her voice.
He was halfway to the television in the den when he stopped walking. “Manila?” He took a step back to her. “Manila, as in the
Philippines
?”
“That is where Che lives.”
Jared rubbed his eyes. “Is that what you’ve been talking about? Going to Manila?”
“You just said it was fine.”
“Lar, I wasn’t paying attention! Are you out of your mind? And when were you thinking of doing this?”
“Now, Jared. She is having her baby.”
“I’m happy she’s having a baby. But you’ve got three babies of your own. Look, it’s not that I don’t want you to go visit your friend. But she’s your
friend
. You’ve got a family here. How in the world do you think we’re going to manage for two weeks? Even if I bring home take-out every night. How is Emily going to get to her lessons, and Michelangelo to his karate and Little League, and Asher to his playoffs? And aren’t you putting on a play that opens next Thursday? I’m serious, Larissa. I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”
“I have.” Her palms were on the table. She wasn’t looking at him.
“No, I don’t think you have. If you did, you wouldn’t be asking. I mean, just think about it logically, and the answer will be so clear.” He glanced at his watch again: 7:40. Damn. He probably missed the entire first inning.
“It’s just for a couple of weeks, Jared,” said Larissa. “It’s not forever.”
“Lar, they can’t do without you for five minutes!”
“Maybe we can hire someone to come in after school.”
“What, for two weeks hire someone? Where do you get someone to just come in for two weeks to live your life?”
“Aren’t there some temporary childcare agencies? There is one that’s called Parenting Plus. I heard it’s very good. Empty Nest is another. Sort of an ironic name, but it comes highly recommended.”
“Highly recommended by who?” Without waiting for her answer, shaking his head, Jared took one slow step toward
Larissa, one eager step toward the den. “Please. Get this nonsense out of your head. It’s the end of the school year. Emily has two recitals, Michelangelo has a concert. Asher is going with Dylan to New York for the Summer League pitcher tryouts. Emily wants a party. We’re having two hundred people here for the Fourth of July. Oh, and by the way, lest you forgot, sixty people here in five days on Memorial Monday. Asher wants ten of his friends to sleep over this Saturday night. This is the
worst
time to go.” That’s it. Punt it. Like football. “Tell you what. Let’s talk about it again in the fall.”
“But Jared, in the fall there are birthdays and Halloween and the holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas.” Larissa lowered her head.
“That’s true.” Punt missed. Shame.
“There’s never a good time to go.”
He said nothing, widening his eyes, conveying to her that perhaps she had answered her own question. But she wasn’t looking at him.
“I really would
like
to go,” she said quietly.
“I know, Lar. And I really want to go hiking in Alaska. After college and before we got married I was an English-speaking tour guide in the Himalayas. I’d like to do that again. I’d like to live in Rome,” Jared called out, leaving the dining room, his back to the questions, to the conversation, eye on the remotes, speeding up. “There will be time enough for all that again, when the kids are in college. We’ll both go then. I promise. Now…”
5
Before you Go
T
he world was here in which the heart was lost, given away, surrendered to another human being. Was that not the world in which she wanted to live? Was this not the essence of her whole brief minute on earth? Find love, hold on to it with both hands. Love is all you need.
Love is the answer. The right answer.
Well, okay then. Love was the answer.
Follow your heart, your heart’s desire.
Going is easier when you’re prepared. Research your options. Remove your contact lenses in case suntan lotion gets in your eyes. Bring your glasses.
Dress for comfort. Clothes you can slip on and off easily are a must. Loose, dark-colored clothing that won’t show stains is best. Natural fibers are preferable. Cotton. Linen. Silk.
Eat, but not too much. You don’t want to be famished, but you don’t want to be bloated either. Fresh fruit. Perhaps a cup of coffee. Some cheese.
Travel lightly, and carry a small bag. Bringing less is best.
And the most important thing…
Leave all your valuables behind.
To abandon: To give up absolutely; to forsake entirely; to renounce utterly; to relinquish all connection with or concern for; to desert, as a person to whom one owes allegiance or fidelity; to quit; to surrender
.
1
And Now for Something Completely Different
M
onty Python’s
And Now for Something Completely Different
played on cable. “
This is a frightened city. Over these streets, over these houses hangs a pall of fear
.” Jared turned the movie to a more manageable mute while he sat on the couch flipping the phone from hand to hand and watching the gangs of old ladies mug forty-eight-year-old men. He had put Michelangelo to bed, holding it together long enough to say good night to his children. “Where is Mommy?” said Michelangelo on this unprecedented Friday night. Jared had no answers.
He didn’t know what to think. Had her cars not been in the driveway and garage, he would have thought car accident. But the vehicles stood glumly motionless, their engines cold. Had there been a note left to the effect of, I went to visit my mother, or I went to spend the weekend at Lillypond, he would have—well, he would have known. Could she have gone to stay with Che? No—her passport was in the house, in the red manila folder where they kept all their important documents. Their marriage certificate. The children’s birth records. Social Security cards. Passports. Hers was there, next to his, acquired
when they planned to fly to Paris for their fifteenth wedding anniversary but cancelled at the last minute because Asher got viral pneumonia. In two weeks, on June 15, it was going to be their nineteenth.
At eleven at night Jared called Ezra and Maggie.
“Maggie,” he said. “Sorry to call you so late. But…”
They came right over. In the quiet house the three of them sat in his kitchen while Ezra made gin and tonics and Maggie made tea. “Margaret! No one is going to drink tea with gin and tonics. Stop it!”
“I’m making it for me, okay?”
They sat around the granite island and stared at each other dumbly.
“What could’ve happened?” said Maggie. “Maybe she got into an accident?”
“Something must have happened,” said a stumbling, nodding Jared.
“Where’s her purse?”
“By the front door. And no, nothing’s missing, as far as I can tell. Her wallet, her car keys, her credit cards. Her makeup. Her script of
Saint Joan
. Headphones.”
“Driver’s license?” Maggie asked.
“Yes.”
Ezra leafed through
Saint Joan
to see if there was anything out of the ordinary highlighted, marked. Jared made an irritated gesture with his hands, a defensive wrestling stance with palms flat, sweeping away pointless details off the table. “Ezra, please. Maybe she left a note and we missed it?”
