From Comfortable Distances (55 page)

Tess had driven around
for nearly thirty minutes—up and around 48
^th
street, 49
^th
street, down Fifth Avenue and up the Avenue of the Americas, taxi cabs cutting
her off, city busses veering into her lane, before she had pulled into a parking
garage. She was already running a few minutes late to meet Dale and was tired
of circling the same blocks with no luck. New York City during Christmas time
was not a place to deal with finding a parking spot. She couldn’t remember the
last time she had played hooky from work on a weekday and as soon as she was
out of her car, moving along the bustling city streets in her stilettos amidst
men and women bundled up in coats, scarves and gloves, some of the men coatless
in just their suits, she felt alive and giddy. When Dale had called her that
morning to see if she couldn’t convince Tess to join her in the city—to go to
see the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, take an afternoon yoga class—she had
shocked herself by saying yes, making a U-turn before reaching Best Realty and
getting on the Belt Parkway.

“You’re doing what?”
Michael had said when she rang him in the office. “Taking a personal health
day?” She laughed now. The endless rows of office buildings offered a shield
against the snapping wind so that Tess loosened her red cashmere scarf.

She spotted the Atlas
Shrugged statue across from St. Patrick’s Cathedral with mobs of people
surrounding it, snapping photographs. Not yet 9:00 am and Manhattan was a
tourist haven. Crossing the street, making her way through the crowds to the
heart of Rockefeller Center, she glimpsed the Christmas tree—grand and
glamorous with its array of colored lights—shimmying and swaying in the wind,
as if it were shivering. There were skaters of all ages scattered around the
rink with crowds surrounding the rink on all sides, taking it all in. Joy. That
seemed to be the atmosphere around her and she marveled at the thought that she
had almost spent her day tucked away in an office, away from all of this life,
this energy. She made her way through the multitudes of bundled up onlookers
and the carts setting up to sell roasted chestnuts and warm, supersized
pretzels. The aromas filtered through her, warming her and stirring her stomach
with their burnt and doughy scents. There, by the third trumpeting snow angel
lining the path to the Christmas tree, she spotted Dale waving to her, a pale
pink pom-pom hat with ear flaps on her head.

Tess hugged her tight—she
couldn’t remember ever greeting someone with so much affection, so that when
the thought registered with her, she felt slightly embarrassed and pulled away,
but Dale kept clinging to her.

“You’re here! You came,”
she said. “I got Tess to play hooky from work! I can’t believe it.”

“Thank you for reminding
me that there’s life outside of an office,” Tess said.

“We can skate,” Dale said
and the moment she said it both she and Tess squinted their eyes, shook their
heads. It was cold, crowded. “Or we can warm up inside and have some breakfast,”
Dale said.

“Let’s walk a bit,” Tess
said. “I’d love to go see the Christmas window displays.”

They made their way up
Fifth Avenue, arms linked, crossing to the east side of the street and pausing
by Saks Fifth Avenue’s windows to glance at the already crowded Santa’s
Workshop displays, complete with
Jingle Bells
booming through loudspeakers.
They moved further along up towards Bergdorf Goodman, where Tess marveled over
the paper props of Christmas trees and cut out snowflakes. She lingered by the
window decked with countless time pieces—clocks of all shapes and sizes, some
antique, some modern; grandfather clocks, miniature alarm clocks; the backdrop
a giant-sized calendar of all twelve months.

“If a window display
could sum up my life, this would be the one,” Tess said. “Years of rushing from
one appointment to the next and setting my alarm clock to get up before dawn so
that I had time to do whatever it is that I had to do before I rushed into the
office. So much preoccupation with time.”

They made their way up
Fifth Avenue and entered Central Park at 59
^th
street, moving past a
row of artists selling caricatures and portraits. Dale shook her head no to the
artists who approached them. They moved past the ramp onto the 6.2 mile loop,
looking both ways before they crossed to the inside lane, safe from the darting
cyclists and horse-drawn carriages. Runners passed them on either side, some
dressed in shorts and t-shirts in the near freezing temperatures, others decked
in tight fitting running pants and fleece tops. Tess smiled thinking of Neal in
his track pants and sweatshirt as he ran up and down the streets of Mill Basin.

“Any status on Neal’s
staying or going?” Dale said.

“No. His mother is
convinced that he belongs at the monastery.”

“What do you think?” Dale
said.

“I’m too caught up in
trying to figure out where I belong,” Tess said.

“What are your choices?”
Dale said.

“Lately I’ve been
thinking about going back to

Woodstock and spending some time there.”

“As in you’re thinking
about moving?” Dale asked.

“Maybe. The house up
there is beautiful and there’s so much land and space. Prakash is going to join
me there for a few weeks—we’re meeting for New Year’s Eve. I could teach yoga
up there and take long walks and read and live a little bit.”

“Wow,” Dale said.

She pulled Dale out of
the way of a cyclist who was heading toward them. Walkers passed them and Tess
glanced down at her heels. Her feet were holding up. She could always buy a
pair of sneakers if they hurt. In the past, she had been able to walk for miles
in her heels, but ever since she had gotten involved in yoga, she was a bit more
precious with her feet.

“Did I mention yet that
Lyla thinks I should have never divorced Michael?”

“Since when did she fall
for Michael?” Dale said.

“Since my mess of a
Thanksgiving dinner,” Tess said. “That was on my check list to share with you.
Thanksgiving eve Lyla and Michael became best friends and I had a night of hot,
steamy sex with Neal.”

“What?” Dale said,
stopping to face Tess. “You are full of surprises today.”

“Of course afterwards I
felt needy. Then desperate thinking that he is going to leave and I will be all
alone. Then I was desperate thinking that he might stay and I would be stuck
with him forever and what if I couldn’t keep him happy?” Tess laughed. “I don’t
understand how after all of these years and all of this introspection I can
still be so nuts.”

“We’re all nuts,” Dale
said. “You’re just better at articulating your insanity.”

“I’m already tired of
talking about me. Tell me something new about you,” Tess said.

“I’m going to move in
with Kyle,” Dale said. “We spent Thanksgiving weekend together and while I’m
not ready to get married right now, I want to live with him, give it a try.
He’s going to call you this week about a brownstone he found in the East
Village that he wants to buy. We’re going to move in together as soon as we can
and not worry about getting married or any of that just yet. One thing at a
time.”

Tess shook her head. “Wow
to you.” She hugged Dale’s arm tighter and rested her head on her shoulder. “I’m
thrilled for you, Dale. You’ve made a decision and you seem calm and happy
about it.”

“I am happy,” Dale said. “I’ve
decided not to over think things and just do what feels right. This feels right
for me. Kyle agrees—he’s open to seeing what happens and not worrying so much
about the planning and the details. There are no guarantees in life, so why not
just move in the direction of what feels right?” Dale said.

“No guarantees for sure,”
Tess said.

They came around the bend
and crossed over the east 72
^nd
street entrance to the park, dodging
cyclists and runners at the intersection as they made their way up the little
hill, approaching the Central Park Boat House.

There were runners
congregating by the bathroom of the Boat House, moving in place in the cold,
little puffs of air coming out of their mouths as they waited in line and made
small talk. Tess thought of Neal, how he would enjoy running in Central Park in
the morning and taking in all the sights and people. If he stayed on, she would
take him there as soon as the weather warmed up. Perhaps take a stroll around
the loop while he ran.

“Should we have lunch
here?” Dale suggested. “I haven’t eaten here in ages.”

Tess led the way into the
Boat House. There were people scattered throughout the restaurant eating and
sipping from coffee cups. The overhead heaters were on, the ceiling fans
attempting to circulate the heat, but the wooden building was cool and damp.
They were seated at a table by the window, overlooking the lake. It had been
years since Tess had been here to eat—she recalled some business luncheons and
a few engagement parties and bridal showers at various points in her life. The
lake was still. In the distance Tess could make out a few ducks drifting along,
the canoes piled up by the shore, locked together. She remembered the day,
month’s back, when she and Neal sat by that shore and watched couples and
families paddle by on the lake. There were still so many possibilities back
then, before she knew he was a monk, before the future had come upon them. She
snuggled in her coat and tightened her scarf around her neck to keep out the
slight breeze that seeped in through the windowpane.

“Sometimes I wonder if
I’ve done more damage to Neal than good,” Tess said.

“You’ve allowed him to be
himself, to lose some of the structures that his mother and the Church most
likely built around him,” Dale said.

Tess shrugged. “Either
that or I’ve perpetuated his confusion.”

“You’ve helped me to find
my way. Just by being in my life and not thinking I’m crazy or telling me what
to do.  You’ve made me feel more normal,” Dale said.

“Well that’s good news. I
don’t feel too normal myself and I’m sure that Lyla would tell you I’m nuts, as
would Michael. When I told him that I might move up to Woodstock and leave him
in charge at my company, you should have heard him. He thinks I’ve lost it once
and for all,” Tess said.

“He probably feels left
out that you didn’t ask him to join you,” Dale said.

The waiter took their
order: French toast with fresh berries and a bagel with cream cheese for Dale
and an egg white omelet with spinach for Tess, fruit instead of hash browns and
hold the toast, to which Dale told him to please bring the toast with lots of
strawberry jam on the side.

“I’m a growing girl with
a carbohydrate fetish,” Dale said when the waiter left.

“Power to you,” Tess
said.

“Have you told Neal about
your trip to Woodstock?”

“It hasn’t come up yet,”
Tess said.

“It hasn’t come up yet or
you haven’t brought it up?” Dale asked.

 “I don’t want him to
think it’s an invitation or that I’m giving him an ultimatum or any of that
type of stuff,” Tess said.

“Or maybe you don’t want
him to join you,” Dale said.

“Can you imagine how his
mother would react if he wanted to come?” Tess said. “She’d probably bring me
up on kidnapping charges.”

“I was going to say I’m
no therapist so don’t listen to me, but the problem is that I am a therapist,”
Dale said and they both smiled.

The waiter placed Tess’s
tea and Dale’s orange juice on the table along with a basket of miniature blueberry
muffins, which Dale started picking at.

“It seems like what
you’re saying is that you want to do what’s right for Tess regardless of Neal.
And right now it seems that going to spend some time in Woodstock with your son
is right for you. Or,” Dale continued, finishing a sip, “you want to clear out
of the way so that it’s easier for Neal to leave.”

“Tell me about Kyle,”
Tess said. “Did he take you to see the brownstone? Should we go see it together
today?”

“You can’t dodge me,”
Dale said. “Or you can dodgemy questions, but you can’t dodge yourself and your
questions, Tess. I believe that whatever you do is the right thing to do. Know
why?”

Tess shook her head. She
suddenly felt tired. Tired and older than she had ever remembered feeling.

“Because that’s what you
told me more than once and it’s been dead on. Whatever you do is right and of
course whatever you do can always be undone,” Dale said. “Nothing is forever.”

Tess thought about her
mother passing, her son. Some things were forever. Her mother wasn’t coming
back to Tess in any recognizable form. Prakash would always be her son. She
would always be Tess, although the players and places in her life may come and
go. Thinking that made her sit up straighter. There were consequences in life.
Doors opened, doors closed. It was easy to forget that or deny it when she was
feeling optimistic and assured herself that nothing was forever. Dale’s eyes
were on her, waiting, watching. She was tired of preaching, tired of trying to
make sense of herself, of anything.
Whatever will be, will be
was what
came to her. It seemed silly to try to figure anything out. She imagined her
mother saying that her only job for today was to live today and then tomorrow
she would have to live tomorrow. She didn’t know what was right for her, for
Neal or Dale or Michael or anyone. And even if she did, what did it matter?
Each one of them, herself included, still had to go through the living to get
to the knowing.