From Comfortable Distances (61 page)

“It matches your office,”
Tess said, all of their eyes on it now. “It’s to serve as a reminder that now
is what’s always happening, not the past or the future.”

“Thank you,” he said,
their eyes meeting in a way that made her feel unsettled so that she raised her
eyebrows, trying to discern what was wrong, only Michael looked away, his eyes
on the sand’s movement. She couldn’t tell if he liked her gift or felt bothered
by it.

She left the gift she had
made for Prakash in the bag—a photo album full of photos from when he was a
little boy, a teenager, and a young adult. Photos of him and Tess, of him with
his father, with Brad, with Michael. She wanted him to have it in the hope that
there would be days in his life that he would be nostalgic and the photos would
help him to relive all that was. She had found a printing shop in New York to
bind copies of The Four Noble Truths and Eightfold Path pamphlets into a hard
cover book for Dale. On the cover she had inscribed:
There Are No Wrong or
Right Paths, only Paths.

“I was thinking about
maybe going to see the tree at Rockefeller Center tonight,” Michael said.

“The city will be crowded
today,” Lyla said.

Everyone focused on their
teacups. Tess took a sip—hers was cool, but it didn’t faze her. She wondered
what Lyla was going to do this evening, if she would be home alone. She
wondered if she felt lonely, or if she enjoyed her solitariness. Maybe she was
planning to go to Mass. It suddenly seemed ridiculous to her that people, each
of them, should spend a holiday alone. She had been looking forward to the
solitary evening ahead, time for her to pack up, to get a good night’s sleep
before she headed out on her next adventure.

“Perhaps we should all go
to see the Christmas tree this evening,” Tess said.

Michael’s face lit up.
Lyla puckered her lips in her no nonsense way, and Tess predicted she’d
decline, that she wasn’t interested in being part of the group, so that when
she said that she’d like that, Tess felt her eyebrows lift in mild shock.

“Then it’s a date,” Tess
said.

“I’ll pick each of you
ladies up,” Michael said. “Say 6:00 pm? We could get some dinner, too.”

All nodded. Neal would be
on his way by then, at his stopover in Minnesota. She wondered what it would be
like for him to arrive at the airport in Saskatoon, to see Father Demetrius,
who would be there waiting for him. What it would feel like to pull into the
monastery grounds—if it would seem like years had passed or if time had stood
still.

“I should get going,”
Lyla said. “I want to say goodbye to Neal and then head to the nursing home.”
Tess wondered if she should ask Lyla if she wanted to accompany her to the
airport, only she didn’t. She believed that if Lyla wanted to join them, she
would let Tess know she was coming along.

“Goodbye, Tess, Michael,”
she said. There was a gentleness to her that Tess had not yet witnessed. She
looked at Tess with—was it compassion? Acceptance? Perhaps the acknowledgement
that they were in it together.

Tess stood, but Lyla
motioned for her to sit again. “I can let myself out,” she said, waving to them
both before she made her way down the stairs.

Michael remained seated
at the kitchen table, his legs stretched out.

“Tonight will be fun,” he
said.

“Interesting is the word
that comes to my mind,” Tess said. She was carrying her and Lyla’s teacups to
the sink. Outside, it had begun to flurry again.

“Lyla is a nice person,
Tess,” he said. “For all of her insanity, she’s a nice person.” 

Tess nodded. “Yes,” she
said.

“I suppose I should get
going myself,” he said as they stood facing one another. “You know, it’s never
too late for you to change your mind about Woodstock.”

“Woodstock is tomorrow.
Think of your hourglass. The present moment.”

He pulled her to him and
hugged her close.

“You’re so dramatic,
Michael. I’m going to see you later today.”

She followed him down the
stairs and opened the door for him.

“You’re gift is in your
mailbox,” he said. “I got shy to bring it in with me.”

She laughed. “I got bold
and gave mine out because I was fearful that you were going to give me
something sentimental.”

He reached into the
mailbox and then moved back into the front door landing, handing her the neat
little rectangular Tiffany’s package with a big white ribbon. Tess’s heart
pounded in her chest. It was too big for a ring. Or was it? What had he gotten
her? Her heart raced faster.

“Open it,” he said.

“Michael—”

“Tess, open it up. I
didn’t get you a wedding ring, I promise.”

It was an hourglass—a
solid, sterling silver hourglass and engraved on it were the words,
Time and
Time Again
. She laughed.

“I didn’t intend it to be
funny,” he said.

“I’m laughing because we
got each other the same thing. We bought each other hourglasses, Michael. It’s
funny. What are the chances?” she said.

“Cosmic connection,” he
said, and Tess nodded.

“Cosmic connection,” she
said.

“Do you like it?” he
said.

“I love it,” she said. “I
absolutely love it. Thank you, Michael.”

“Time and time again you
make me lose my mind,” Michael said.

He smiled, still holding
the screen door open. “I want to come up to Woodstock and visit you,” he said,
with one last lingering glance at her before he made his way down the porch
steps and into his car, without looking back. Tess watched him start up the car
and drive away. The sun had come out in the last few moments, shining and
bright. Hopeful. It made Tess feel hopeful.

The steaming shower was
soothing, refreshing; she was trying not to think, to just do and be—her mind
was tired of all the activity. In the past few minutes, things had stopped
making sense so that she felt as if she were watching a movie version of her
life, taking it all in as opposed to driving the action. Neal having come and
now leaving. His mother, Michael—the fact that he was still in her life. Dale
having asked her to be in her wedding party, when and if she did get married;
and that Sara had met a new man and that Kim and her husband were working out
their issues. The concept that these characters were all a part of her life
fascinated her. A year ago, with the exception of Michael, she hadn’t known
that these people existed. A few months ago, her mother had still been alive;
she had spoken to her, heard her voice, sat on the front lawn with her at the
crack of dawn in Woodstock. So much had changed. She closed her eyes, the water
beating down on her like rain, washing away all the residue of what was; if
only she could just stay here, be here, but life kept moving, regardless of
where Tess hid herself away. The water flowed—it moved past her and beyond her
and while it wasn’t a race, Tess understood that she too must flow, and for all
of her growth, at her core she was exactly who she had started out as, just a
bit more aware, a bit more awake in her little life. And for all of her
worrying and planning and her trying to find herself, the question that
permeated as she toweled herself off, massaged on her body lotions and face
cream, was
what did any of it matter?
She laughed at herself. Her mother
used to smile sweetly at her, smoothing her unruly hair, as she told her that
it would all pass, whatever drama that Tess had been upset about, her mother
had told her it would pass. And it always did. The days were all so unique, so
different from one another.

“Aren’t the days all so
different, Contesta?” he mother used to say, but she hadn’t understood what her
mother was talking about then. She was just a girl and the days had all seemed
exactly alike to her. She had often felt as if she were drowning in the
monotony. But they were all so different. Now, she understood.

She pulled on a black
turtleneck and black wool slacks—her staple. Simple. She wanted to keep things
simple. She glanced around at her bedroom. She would return home after dropping
Neal at the airport and then pack up so that she could relax for her evening
with Michael and Lyla. It would be nice to be with them tonight. She surprised
herself with that thought, but it would be nice. They were all in it together
in some respect. Tomorrow morning, Christmas day, she would close up her house
and take the ride up to Woodstock with Buddhi in the carrying case that she had
bought for him. She didn’t know how that would work out, but it was all part of
the adventure. She would wake up in Woodstock on her birthday morning, December
26
^th
, and pick up Prakash, who was taking the redeye, from the
airport. Neal would be at the monastery, all settled in by then. 

She beeped once in front
of his house and he came out, pulling the door closed behind him and locking
it, carefully placing the key under the front door mat. He had on chinos, a
black sweater, and his black bubble jacket.  She popped open the trunk and
motioned for him to put his bag back there. When he closed the trunk and got
into the front seat beside her, she smiled at him. And then she remembered her
plan.

“One minute,” she said
and she was out of the car.

She opened his rucksack
and placed her mother’s remains inside, carefully positioning it under his
books and undergarments, his new running clothes and sneakers, and the few
pieces of clothing he was taking back with him—two pairs of chinos, two white
button downs, two sweaters, and some dress socks. She liked knowing what he
would have with him at the monastery. She brushed the sweaters with her hand
for a moment, and noticed a small plastic bag next to his luggage. It contained
the framed picture of Neal at the monastery with his brothers, the one he had
brought to her home, months back, to share something of his former life with
her.  On it was a post it that was addressed to Tess, with the words
Be
Merry In All Things
, Deuteronomy 16:17, written in bold capital letters,
signed
Your Friend, Neal.
She stared into the picture and with her
finger, she touched his image.

“For you,” she said,
getting back into the car and handing him a small, shiny red bag with ribbons
on it. She had bought him a rustic brown leather-bound journal and monogrammed
on it were his initials: NC. She had hidden the bookmark she had bought at the
church inside, so that one day, he would come upon it and perhaps think of
Jamaica Bay, of Tess, of his time in Mill Basin, their morning walks.

He opened it up, his hand
tracing his monograms on the journal and smiled up at her.

“Thank you, Tess. I love
it,” he said, his voice tired, small.

Tess kept her eyes
focused on the road en route to the airport. She put the heat on high, then
lowered it, then put it on high again until she turned it off. She wanted to
feel a little cold and cracked her window open an inch. The skies were clear
and in the distance, the sun was beginning to break through the whiteness. Once
she merged onto the Belt Parkway, she turned on the radio. Christmas songs were
playing: an instrumental of “Let it Snow.” She was glad to be on the highway,
glad that it was congested so that she had to focus on the road. She had
butterflies in her stomach and her fingertips grew cold, impossibly cold, so
that she took turns opening and closing her fists. She glanced over at Neal,
but his eyes were glued to the road before them. She tried to think of
something to say, something to ease the awkwardness, but she couldn’t think of
anything. Maybe she was the only one who felt awkward. Maybe Neal was already
past all of this. Perhaps he was enjoying the ride, taking in the scenery.

“How’s your mother?” she
said.

“Fine,” Neal said. “She
mentioned seeing you and Michael this evening. She’s looking forward to it.”

“Yes,” Tess said. “It
will be nice.”

When she saw the signs
for JFK airport, she moved into the middle lane, which veered off right,
leading to the airport exit. She followed the curve of the road, focusing on
her breathing. Shallow inhales followed by exhales. As she pulled into the
underpass and parked the car up in front of departures, snowflakes began to
tumble from the sky.
O Holy Night
played on the radio and she was able
to make out a small smile forming on Neal’s face. Perhaps he was relieved, at
peace.

“Here we are,” Tess said,
her eyes straight ahead.

“Here we are,” Neal said.

Tess nodded and closed
her eyes. She didn’t want to cry.

“If anything goes wrong
with your flights, you can call me,” Tess said.

“Okay,” Neal said.

“Sometimes this time of
year, there are delays. I’m here if you need me,” Tess said.

“Thank you,” Neal said,
and now she felt his eyes on her, so that she turned to him.

She pressed the trunk
button and got out first and in a moment Neal did the same, moving to the trunk
to gather his rucksack. By the back of the car, they looked into one another’s
eyes and smiled a slight smile. There didn’t seem to be anything to say. Tess
reached out to hug him, a slight hug, keeping a distance between them. He
patted her back and then she pulled away. They took one long, last look at each
other. His eyes had never seemed bluer to her and she longed to be closer to
them so that she could see her reflection in them.