 |
||||||||||||||||
 |
||||||||||||||||
| (Excerpt only) | ||||||||||||||||
| Janie's in love. For those of us who know her well the signs are as clear as signal flags flying from a sailboat's mast. The way she bubbles up in conversation, like popcorn bursting through the lid of the pan. The way her native wit of sarcasm yields to deep sighs and distant, unfocused gazing. The way she shyly asks, "Why would anyone like me?" She denies it, of course, but only long enough to giggle herself into admission. "You're right, you're right. I know. I'm being so silly." And then she goes off dreaming again. This is not, in itself, a bad thing. It's very nice indeed to see her planting hope again, to watch her smile and not to have to worry about how many capsules of St. John's Wort she's taken today. Sigh. But it's also troublesome. Those of us who know her have witnessed this scenario before, welcomed the sunshine that swept over her only to stand in mute horror as it got supplanted by murderously dark thunderstorms. I think that is how I will always think of Janie -- as an ever-changing weather pattern, predictable only in the most rudimentary fashion. You know that, ultimately, the winds will shift. Like the sobering reflection of day that inevitably follows a euphoric night of wine. Except without the reliable sense of timing. So we all rejoice smally for her. Cautious in our optimism. Desperate in our prayers. God knows, Janie deserves a little happiness. But what we really want to see is a whole truckload, a lifetime supply that will survive the days of drought. And the sky is too changeable to see that possibility with any certainty. Janie, herself, is well aware of all of this. And so she, too, watches for portents and signs. Unable to unravel the mystery of herself, unsure if it even exists, she casts stones and shuffles out cards, lights candles and carries crystals. She listens to birds and treasures each found feather. She peers into nothingness and waits for an answer. And she blames herself on those days her beloved universe is mute, impenetrable. "I'm being silly again," she sighs. "What would I do with a known future anyway?" Those are the times when I hold her hand and stroke her hair, trying, without words, to remind her that her present -- and her presence -- is enough. For those of us who know her. It never changes her mood or situation, but I like to think, in some small way, it helps. It certainly helps me. Even unspoken love needs some kind of outlet, some voice. But these are thoughts for another time, not now when I sit across from her in this sidewalk cafe, listening to her stack hope upon hope, building a lovely castle. So what if it's of cards? I am her friend. I should be handing her glue to stick the cards together, make them stronger, more lasting. So I sip my iced tea, watching the ice melt into sickly little life rafts, wondering if I can bear to meet this new man in her life. My mother always taught me to be noble and kind. I'd no idea how high a standard that presented until after I'd bought the whole program. I guess we all have our own kind of doom, our own shade of destiny. I sigh. Janie doesn't notice. Or at least gives no sign that she does. She is wandering in the clouds again, her face shadowing as she scents the air for storms. "Do you think this can possibly last,?" she asks of a sudden, her voice thick with fear. I nearly choke on a lemon pip in my rush to comfort her. "Of course it can, Janie," I tell her, the lie wallowing in my mouth like bitter beer. "If you want it to, it will." Janie smiles then, and I can think of no better reason in the world to be dishonest. The sun is back, shining on our table with benevolence. And all just might be right with the world. This is the time for a photograph, so that we could capture this instant and hold onto it forever. Sigh. Too bad life isn't like that |
||||||||||||||||
 |
||||||||||||||||
| Please click on the links below to read exerpts from some of my other stories. | ||||||||||||||||
| Retreat | Dreaming | Signs and Portents | Tattoos | ||||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||