Tempted (47 page)

It’s got to be the worst breakup ever because I didn’t even know we were broken up!

Ev
entually, I tell Alex the nitty-
gritty story of what’s been going on with David
,
because now it has started to affect me, legally.
 
I’m bombarded with threatening letters, phone calls from federal age
ncies and visits from she
ri
f
fs, all looking for David, and none of whom believe that I don’t know his whereabouts.
 
The truth is
,
I have never been to the houseboat, and begin to wonder if there ever was one.

Alex has been an absolute saint
,
putting up with my bouts of panic and outrage.
 
Never does he lose his grace or patience or delightfully sideways humor.
 
I feel awful that we never, ever talk about him.
 
It’s always ‘me, me, me’ and I feel guilty, but at the same time grateful
,
to have such a strong, selfless friend for support.

* * *

Thanksgiving is only three days away and I’m jumping for joy.
 
It’s my favorite day of the year.
 
Not because of the food or ball games, but because I absolutely love the idea that an entire nation takes a day just to be grateful.
 
At least, that’s what I do.
 
This will be the first major holiday I’ve spent on my own with no family, no friends, no lover to share the day.
 
The highlight is the fact that April and I have arranged to Skype ‘for sur
e’ on Thanksgiving day.
 
I
n China, there’s not a whole lot for an American to do in the way of celebrating
Thanksgiving
, and we’ll have plenty of free time to shoot the breeze and talk about all the things best girlfriends do, which of course centers around boys.
 
Though, at this stage of life, one would hope I would have moved onto men.

Just for fun, I decide to make the whole Thanksgiving feast for myself.
 
I don’t know when I’ll get these treasured dishes again.
 
The spread consists of a small turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, creamed corn, Mom’s famous Pacifica Jello salad, homemade cranberry sauce and more.
 
I make a bold decision to forgo the yams in favor of pumpkin praline pie, and I add a can of black olives to nosh from my fingertips, and King’s Hawaiian rolls, because
I can –
yum!
 
Even if I didn’t love the meal in itself, the effort would be worth it for the leftovers, especially the day-after turkey sandwiches, and, of course, pie for breakfast.

Foolishly, I wait till Thanksgiving eve to do all of my grocery shopping.
 
The store is a zoo and nearly out of everything I need.
 
Even
so, I am having a splendid time
being part of humanity
,
as it bustles through needless frenzy.
 
I always let rushed people go before me at the checkout line during the holidays.
 
It’s my gift to them
–
the gift of my time, a touch of grace, a wee bit o’ kindness.
 
I determined long ago not to fall into the trap of holidaze stress.
 
And so, I look at the season as an opportunity to take my time and go more slowly, to stop and smell the poinsettias, or at least the Christmas trees.

Alex is on vidcam as I labor o
ver my Thanksgiving array, and i
s highly entertained by my ineptitude in the kitchen.

“Yeh, well
,
the menagerie never complains about it,” I quip.

“Not that you know of!
 
They speak in strange and mystical languages.
 
You probably have no idea what they’re saying about you behind your back.”

I quickly rally Persephone to my side by letting her lick spoons and bowls, all to show Alex how irresistible my culinary creations are.
 
I just hope my pup doesn’t throw it all up later!

The next day
,
on Thanksgiving proper, the menagerie and I dine by candlelight at 3pm sharp.
 
Earlier, Alex had called to wish me well, prior to his racing out to spend the long weekend with scores of relatives spanning four generations.
 
His is a boisterous affair with a strict ‘no electronics allowed’ policy.
 
No one may so much as touch a computer or cell phone, even the teens.
 

I, on the other hand, will be on the computer as much as possible today, enjoying my Skypefest with April
,
which is scheduled at 5pm.
 
Afterward, I intend to go see whatever grand, period-piece film opens today.

The entire supper comes out perfectly.
 
The one time that it really doesn’t matter since I’m not cooking for anyone, and the whole meal is flawless.
 
Figures. There is more food than six people can eat
,
and it would be nice to share some of it with someone, anyone.

I suddenly wonder where, and with whom, David is having Thanksgiving.
 
I wonder, too, if he’s even still in America
,
or if he returned to Italy to face the music.
 
My yellow chakra nags at me to admit my doubts about David ‘manning up’ and going back to Italy.
 
But once again
,
I determine to believe the best, until the facts prove otherwise.

5
o’clock
finally comes
and I hit the send button on
Skype call to April.
 
When we connect and can see one another from opposite corners of the world, we both start squealing in delight, causing her youngest child to burst out in tears.

The conversation is the best holiday gift I could ever ask for.
 
We talk about everything and everyone under the sun, with no time constraints, no interruptions and no worries.
 
When we get to the topic of David, April listens dutifully, waiting till I’ve related the whole soap opera.
 
April doesn’t mince words
,
so I know her assessment and response will be concise and unvarnished.
 
After a pause
,
she speaks her piece.

“Basically, your life is
Gone with the Wind.
 
David is Ashley, Alex is Rhett, Giselle is Melanie and you are Scarlett.”

“Wow, I’m Scarlett O’Hara?”

“But not as pretty.”

We both laugh
,
and I consider what she’s said.

“Ya know what, A, I think you’re absolutely right.”

“I know I’m right!”

All too soon we lose the call, and though I try re-connecting a few times, there is no answer.
 
She’s mentioned having internet issues before
,
and I’m just grateful we got to talk as long as we did.
 
I dash out to the cinema, nearly late, even after taking into account the length of the previews.

Later, on the way back from the movies, I think more about what she said.
 
Her words may be few, but they are always fraught with meaning and import.
 
All the more so now, as I speak them
aloud with an imperious, upper
crust English accent, waxing quite British after the magnificent film.
 
Meryl will surely get another Oscar nomination for her stellar performance.

Once back at home, I sneak seconds of the entire Thanksgiving meal.
 
There is no one to sneak or hide from as there was in my youth, under my parents
’
roof, but it seems to taste better when I think of relishing these treats on the sly.
 
I turn on my computer to see what sorts of holiday messages my Facebook friends have posted.
 
As the machine awakes, I take the opportunity to spoon
out a little more mashed potatoe
s to use as reinforcements around the pool of gravy I’ve created.
 
God forbid it should leak into the Jello!
 

The site is full of missives about family gatherings.
 
I sigh to see how many people are either completely stressed out by holiday preparations, or are just flat out dreading the prospect of spending time with their families.
 
Then, there are the ones who are depressed and feel hopeless because they are alone with no one to share the holiday.
 
I realize I’m one of them
–
at least the alone part.
 
My heart goes out to all who are battling with one form or another of holiday blues or burnout.
 
I ramble through the deluge of turkey cartoons, tryptophan jokes, and ‘tomorrow I start my diet’ protestations.
 
I then come to a post from Alex, left early in the day.
 
It’s an unexpected treat
,
since he previously said he would most likely not be online the next few days.
 

As I lay my head down at the end of a full and filling day, serenaded by purrs and snores, I count the day’s blessings.
 
The menagerie, April and Alex all top the list.

* * *

The next day is Black Friday, the day dedicated to shopping carnage.
 
I decide it’s the perfect time treat myself to a visit to the city to see the holiday decorations.
 
Clearly, too much feasting has addled my brain.
 
Trying to find parking on the mother-of-all shopping days takes me longer than the drive into the city!
 
I finally find a spot several blocks from the stores, and that is jus
t fine by me.
 
It’s a gorgeous autumn
day and the walk in the crisp, clear air delights my soul as much as it helps rekindle my appetite after yesterday’s gorging.
 
As I stroll, I feel a warmth in my belly
–
one that has nothing to do with holiday overindulgence.
 
Thoughts of Alex fill my head and the heat in my core begins to radiate throughout the rest of me, finally taking root deep in my chest.

Suddenly I stop in my tracks, completely overcome with emotion.
 
I choke back an unexpected spate of tears
,
and laugh aloud as I feel the energy coursing through my being.
 
It is a familiar feeling, but on a level and to a degree I’ve never known.
 
And I realize, beyond a question or doubt, that I am unal
terably in love with Alex.
 
Why
I didn’t realize it sooner is a mystery.
 
Then again, maybe not.
 
This feeling is something so much purer, so much more beautiful, satisfying, powerful, grounded and real than any romantic inklings I’ve entertained
–
and certainly more than any emotion I’ve read about or seen in romantic movies.
 
This is the
summum bonum
.
 
This is the kind of love that gives and blesses without thought for self, without ego, without expectation or possession.
 
This is love as it should be
–
as it truly is.