Part 18 (1/2)
At the restaurant, we split a piece of quiche, a custard and berry crepe, and a Nutella m.u.f.fin. She recognized a girl she'd gone to high school with but couldn't remember her name and didn't want to shout across the room. We walked to a park near the Los Gatos strip. A street preacher was preaching on the sidewalk. Though no one was listening, he sounded sincere, without a hint of Bible-thumping or being overly-judgmental. We found a bench near a fountain and watched the children playing in its water. She'd saved me several pieces of chocolate from a gift box she received at Christmas. She fed me a piece. I kissed her and gave her half. We read two of the ”Griffin and Sabine” books. She'd discovered them a few weeks earlier and wanted to show them to me. We people-watched, as always. An older couple across the park was looking at us and we tried to guess what they were saying.
Had I known this would be the last time I saw her, what would I have done differently? Had I known it would be the last time I put my arm around her and kissed her, what might I have said?
Nothing. You can't regret a perfect day.
How could I regret standing in church, meeting Melanie, the smell of alcohol on her breath, listening as she told me how beautiful Jessie was...and tall? Would I dare take back driving into Los Gatos, discussing Ken's sermon, the curse of Eden and how it affects us still today? We knew money was the big issue. I could say it was family, but the two go hand in hand. Stability I couldn't offer. I wouldn't change the conversation, however. We spoke openly and honestly. There were never hidden thoughts.
Would I change anything about the lunch we shared-the most delicious, fruitful crepe and perfectly salted quiche Lorraine? A meal that enjoyable can't be scripted. No, I wouldn't change it. Would I regret the afternoon in the park, holding each other, feeding each other salted caramels, watching and laughing at the small children running through the fountain (His mom can't go in to get him because she's wearing a dress. And look at his saggy diaper!)? These are the moments dreams are made of. They're never looked back on with anything but fondness. Perhaps bittersweet fondness, as something so wonderful couldn't endure. But that's life. When we left the park, the older couple was still watching us, smiling.
”What do you think they're saying?”
”I think they're saying, 'That couple is too much into PDA.' What do you think they're saying?”
”I think they're saying, 'Isn't that romantic? It reminds me of us in our younger days.'”
”They're probably saying, 'They shouldn't kiss in front of children. It's not proper.'”
”But what they're thinking is, 'Seems like a good idea. Let's try it ourselves.'”
”Let's go talk to them.”
”No.”
”Come on.”
”Don't be silly.”
Hearts grow heavy when two people, crazy about each other, know it's time to separate. We thought we had more time than we did. We walked the row of shops in downtown Los Gatos, past the cafe where we shared apricot French toast and I recited melancholic prose from my first book. She wanted to visit a nearby gelato shop a block away so we made that our last meal together. Perhaps that's the one thing I'd do differently. If I had known it was going to be our last time eating together, it wouldn't have been gelato. I would have cancelled my flight, taken her to a restaurant in Saratoga, Manresa, that I'd been saving for a special occasion. Had I known.
Approaching the airport, she said, ”I always get sad when you leave.”
I squeezed her hand.
”When am I going to see you again?”
”Soon,” I told her. Valentine's Day was coming up. It brought me joy thinking of spending the day with her. We held each other, saying goodbye. Thank you, San Jose International, for being generous and lax with curbside security. I kissed her, then turned and kissed her again. The face had taken on features.
Give me until May, I thought. My suspension would be over. My book would be finished. If I couldn't get it represented, I'd look for a better job in an HR capacity, hopefully in the Bay Area. We'd talked about wanting to take a trip to Fiji or Tahiti. Paris, as well. But the Pacific Islands were our number one choice.
”For our honeymoon,” I joked, ”we'll spend one week in Paris and the other in Tahiti.”
”I've heard the food in Tahiti isn't very good, and the locals aren't friendly.”
”Fiji it is, then.”
”I want to take you to this restaurant in Paris. Olivia and I went there when we were in Paris. You can't see it from the street. You have to go down a long flight of stairs to get there. Three-star Michelin-rated. Michael, it's the best meal I've ever had.”
If we couldn't dream, what would we do? Grace upon grace, the ability to imagine, to daydream, elevate our minds and spirit above the weariness of living.
On the flight home, I sat beside a Middle Eastern couple. The woman, very pretty, wore gold bracelets on both arms, reaching to her elbows. The man wore several pieces of jewelry, also. Halfway home, the flight attendant got on the intercom and asked if Mr. Ha.s.san would ring his buzzer. The man stood, shuffled past me and walked to the back of the plane. The lady on the intercom announced congratulations to them, that they were newlyweds and the airline would like to give them a complimentary bottle of champagne. The man returned and I offered him congratulations. He thanked me. Several others wished the couple well and the attendant presented them with the champagne. ”Of course, you can't open it on the plane,” she said.
Nash picked me up at the airport. I put my suitcase in the backseat, crammed with cooking utensils and food supplies for PATH, a homeless ministry our church supports. He'd been up since 5 a.m., having cooked breakfast for the residents there. He and other members of his community group have been doing it once a month for six years. We went to a nearby British pub and ordered dinner. He told me he was thinking, after this year, of going part-time in school. He couldn't sleep he was so stressed out, mostly at the thought of being $160k in debt and living dest.i.tute for the next twenty years. For two consecutive summers, he traveled to Kenya to serve at a PCC-sponsored orphanage. It did a number on his heart and, after the second trip, he returned with a desire to work in public service. It's why he quit the film industry, studied for and took the LSAT, and enrolled in law school. But the thought of being sixty and still living in poverty was causing him anxiety. We stayed there until late, talking about G.o.d and faith and life. We'd both taken strange career paths, in the arts, and they didn't work out. Now, we were at the place in our lives where we needed G.o.d to show up. If not, I would lose this woman. Nash would come to his wit's end. We were on our faces in prayer, pleading with G.o.d to do a work. He must.
At the creperie in Los Gatos, Jessie and I talked about decisions and how we made them. ”I've never made a pros and cons list,” I told her. It was true. I weigh decisions in my mind, the benefits of each, but have never written a list. She was surprised by that.
”I've become more conservative over the years,” I said. ”You should have seen me at 30. But still, I know what I want; and if I pray about it and get no conviction otherwise, I do it. Trust G.o.d and don't look back. I don't know how else to live.”
We all have an image in our minds of how we want our lives to look. Loving G.o.d, strong family and strong career-the American ideal. Some get it and G.o.d bless them for it. That's most of the friends I have in church. Life worked out for them, and they trusted G.o.d along the way.
But not everyone's works that way. Mine didn't, likely because of the decisions I made. But with an American Dream Christianity often comes a sense of self-reliance; and I'd rather be in a position of need, face down on the floor praying, pleading with G.o.d for help, than bargaining with the chips of prosperity and self-sufficiency.
”You are worth the risk.” I told her from the start.
”But what if we end up hurting each other?”
”I won't hurt you. If it's me that gets hurt, you're worth it. And I'd do it again.”
And I would. Gladly.
Travis was at the bus stop the next morning, bundled with gloves, coat, cap and his enormous backpack. ”It's cold,” he said. ”This morning it was in the 40s. Do you know if it's snowing in the mountains? I hope so. We might go up this weekend.”
”Where would you go? Big Bear?”
”Yeah, Mammoth or Big Bear. Probably Big Bear. I like it. It's not as big. My friends go there. Mammoth has more runs, but Big Bear is cheaper. $25 a lift ticket versus $90.”
”Do you ski or board?”
”Board. I surf, too, so it's the same.”
”It's cool you grew up here and learned to surf.”
”Yeah, maybe I'll become one of those surf legends or s...o...b..ard legends. That would be cool.”
”Where do you surf?”
”Past Malibu. I can't remember the name of the beach. I like it because the sand is tilted and you don't have to swim out as far. You step into the water and it comes up to your waist. I bodyboard, too. There's a water trampoline and sometimes I swim out past the waves and sit on it. There are lifeguards out there and if I get tired I can ride back on one of their boards.
”Is it still snowing in the San Gabriel Mountains? I'd like to board down those hills. That's wild that it snowed there. The first time it's snowed there in forever. Do you know how long it's been? Gosh, it must be 15, 16 years.”
”I was thinking 12.”
”It's global warming. My grandfather doesn't believe in global warming. He says it's just the weather change. But how can you not believe in it? The polar ice caps are melting.”
Chapter Twenty-Two.
I asked Marilyn, the a.s.sociate at Pugliese's office, if I could forego installing the interlock device and ride out the remainder of my suspension, biking and bussing. She said it was fine, allowable by the DMV. I found not driving calmed me; it quieted my soul. I was enjoying this season of life and wasn't sure I was ready to get back to hectic L.A. traffic. On the bus, I stood beside a homeless lady carrying a huge bag wrapped in duct tape. I enjoyed standing next to her. It sounds prideful to say that, as I shouldn't have noticed she was homeless, but at the same time it's impossible not to. We're not in the Kingdom yet and, in this life, we judge people based on appearance and clothing and social status. However, being surrounded by those different from us diminishes it to a degree. The thought of being another driver on the road, judged by my car, rus.h.i.+ng everywhere, never slowing down-I'd eventually do it, but didn't look forward to it as much as I thought I would.