Chapter 1
Excerpts from…
A BARROOM VIEW OF LOVE
by
Susan Scott Morales
All work copyrighted.
No reproduction of any postings on this website without written permission of the author.
CHAPTER ONE
Julia saw me first. “Hi, honey!” She waved and a glass bead bracelet jiggled on her wrist.
The dark green ferns and huge arrangements of exotic flowers that framed my mother became a blur. Julia was dressed for a role in a Bollywood movie. The mint-green silk outfit—a sari?— embroidered with shimmering sky-blue thread, matched her dangling glass earrings. Her hair was the same rich auburn it had been in December, but uncharacteristically piled on her head with tiny baby’s breath, as if she were a bridesmaid. And there, between Julia’s eyebrows, was a red dot! My mother Hindu? My knees felt weak. The little hope I had, that I’d been making a big deal out of nothing, disappeared. I’d already lost her.
As Julia rushed over, I could smell the floral fragrance in the room, as if her motion had stirred it up. The silky fabric of the dress flowed with her graceful strides. Then I saw it: a soft white fold of her midriff. A midriff that I hadn’t seen since I was a little girl. A midriff usually hidden by prim cotton dresses. And Julia seemed—gulp—sensuous. I suddenly felt eight years old and embarrassed. Once, a neighbor came to the house with a gift of cookies and Julia, still dressed in her bathrobe, wouldn’t go out to see her or let her come in. I had to sneak out a crack in the door and accept the neighbor’s gift. Even at eight I felt I had to apologize for my mother. Was my apprehension about the ashram just embarrassment? Was I really only worried about what people would think? No. It was more than that. Much more. And if I saw her belly button—did they belly dance here?—I’d drag Julia out. I sucked in a breath, suddenly self-conscious in my torn denim jeans and sandals. “Julia,” was all I could manage to say.
“You must be exhausted, darling.” Julia took my face in her hands, kissed me lightly on the cheek, then hugged me firmly. “Was the trip okay? You must have made great time. Did you get a decent meal?”
“Huh?” I smiled, remembering the Dove bar I’d had on the road, and looked into my mother eyes. I saw my own eyes in hers; except for the tiny wrinkles around Julia’s they were identical—bright, an almost turquoise-blue, surrounded by milky white. “Thanks, Julia. I’m fine—tired. What’s with the… ?” I waved my hands around her clothing not knowing what to call it.
“Oh, I forgot. The sari. Isn’t it beautiful? I feel like a goddess in it. I guess that’s the point. After lunch I was in a ceremony. Really an honor. I’d love to introduce you to all my friends, but let’s get you settled first.” She ran her fingers through my short hair. “I love the new cut. Very smart on you.” I tried to take this in. My mother giving me a compliment—actually noticing? Of course she didn’t go so far as to say the haircut enhanced my eyes, or de-emphasized my longish nose and smallish mouth. But thank goodness, she also didn’t say, “You look pale and where’s your lipstick?” I tuned in to her words again, “Let’s get you registered and have a cup of tea.”
“Shouldn’t I change clothes first? Everyone’s so dressed up.”
Julia shook her head No as she nudged me toward the counter.
The clerk smiled. “Is this your first time here?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll need to have your photo taken.”
What’s with the cameras here? Julia took my hand as if she was taking me to school the first day and led me to another area of the lobby, where a camera was set up.
I whispered, “What’s this for?”
“Oh, I don’t know. For security reasons, I guess.”
“Whose security?”
“Oh, honey, just relax. See, it’s for your nametag.” She tapped the one pinned on her. “It’ll just take a second, and then we’ll get you some tea.”
I stopped walking and put my hands on my hips. “God, Julia. Don’t tell me they don’t have coffee here.”
“Yes, you can get coffee—although I don’t think there’s any espresso.”
“Bummer.” I exaggerated a frown. Why was I feeling so childish around Julia? She wasn’t acting herself but that didn’t mean I couldn’t act more normal.
We found our way past rows of shoes in the hallway to our room. “I take it there’s a ‘no shoes’ policy.” I set down my bag as Julia slipped off her bone-colored pumps and placed them in perfect alignment with a pair already next to the door. “So, what’s with no shoes?”
“They represent your ego.”
“What’s wrong with my ego?” My mind flipped to fundamental psychology? id, ego, and superego. “The ego is how we function in the world.”
Julie looked at me as if seeing me as an academic for the first time. “Well…here ego is the part of us that is always editing, criticizing. While you’re here it’s nice to let go of that.”
“Hmm.” Still wearing my shoes, I stepped inside. The small room could only be described as a blank canvas—white walls, white Formica bureaus, tan-flecked brown carpet. Two twin beds were on opposite sides, with a narrow walkway between. Julia’s bed was made, and she had arranged a bookshelf on the wall with a red scarf, books, and a photo of the ashram’s guru, a middle aged Indian man.
White blinds were lowered and the window was closed. In spite of the air conditioning, the room was stuffy and humid.
I put the suitcase next to my bed and tossed the fresh linens I received at registration on the thin mattress. “We got the deluxe, huh?”
“Do you mind terribly? We could stay in the hotel outside the ashram, but it’s so convenient staying here.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
“Come on. I’ll help you make the bed.” Julia unfolded the sheets and tossed the pillowcase to me.
“What, no maid service?” For Julia, this was really roughing it.
“Well, actually, no. In fact, everyone pitches in and does seva.” She paused and smiled lightly. “That’s Sanskrit for service, selfless service. They say it helps you let go of your ego. I volunteered us for the kitchen, chopping.” She finished tucking in the sheet and fluffed the pillow.
Seva. Julia rolled Sanskrit off her tongue with delicate care, as if protecting a precious jewel, but I only half listened. She was doing volunteer work, in a kitchen, no less? This was not the Julia I knew. Where were the valets and maids? “Okay. Do I get a cup of Joe first?” I sat on the bed.
Julia pointed to my foot nervously tapping the air. “Relax, honey. Today you rest. We’ll check tomorrow for our assignment.” Julia plopped the larger suitcase onto the bed. “Shall I help you unpack?”
“No thanks, later. I’m pooped.”
“I’ll get you when it’s time for dinner.”
I stretched out on top of the bedspread. Julia’s attentiveness was a mystery. At home when I visited, she would greet me quickly and then return to her magazines or soap operas. Here she was treating me like a VIP. Was this part of a conversion ploy?
With my eyes closed and my body finally horizontal, the weariness from the drive took over. I hardly noticed the click as Julia closed the door.
***
“Pumpkin, it’s time to get up.” It took a while to register Julia’s voice, but I still couldn’t open my eyes. They felt sealed shut.
“What time is it?” I couldn’t quite grasp where I was. Hearing myself called Pumpkin had taken me to the house on Glastonbury. Dad? His tall, slender frame leaned over me. What was that smell? Are you there? Sleep weighed on my brain. Through a small slit in my eyes I could see the sun was still high, and light sneaked through the edges of the blinds into the room. The heavy air had helped me rest, lying over me like a down-filled comforter. Perspiration clung to my temples and forehead. I hadn’t moved since Julia left the room.
“It’s time for dinner. Are you hungry?” Julia nudged me gently.
This time, I was awake, but couldn’t respond. My eyes opened and closed like a child resisting sleep. After several moments, I was able to ask, “Where am I?”
“You must have really zonked out. Do you want a glass of water?” Julia helped me sit up and gave me a drink.
“I feel like I could sleep all night.”
“You can if you want.”
“No. That’s okay.” I held onto the headboard to steady myself and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “I feel drugged.” I locked my gaze onto Julia’s eyes. “You didn’t drug me, did you?”
Julia chuckled. “You look drunk.” From the bathroom she handed me a warm washcloth. “Here. This might help.”
I laid it on my face and breathed in the warmth, then stumbled to the bathroom and closed the door. “Let me pee, then I’ll be ready.”
When I returned to the room, Julia was going through my large suitcase. I bristled at her intrusion, but caught myself before a teen-age level remark could slip out . Julia removed a skirt and gave it to me. “Slip this on. You’ll be more comfortable.”
***
Outside the dorm (named something I couldn’t pronounce), a shuttle bus waited to take people to the dining facility a half-mile down the road. The bus was full, and there was a long line of people waiting.
“There’ll be another bus in a few minutes, or we could walk,” Julia said. “There’s a lovely path on the other side of the lobby. Walking might wake you up.”
“Sure.” I looked around the adjacent courtyard, filled with folks standing around talking. It looked like a cocktail party, except that nobody was holding a drink. Crossing through the group, I suddenly felt lonely. This place was strange. There were people smiling and laughing all around me, just like the guy who impounded my camera. I didn’t trust their happiness. In the academic world, my colleagues wore frowns as badges of their status on the university ladder. The more furrows, the more esteemed. Socializing with faculty was charged with intellectual play—wit and innuendo traded like children trading Pokémon cards—but such gatherings were serious business. Your next project straddled the deck of a drawbridge that could open without warning.
“Relax. Isn’t it beautiful?” Julia patted me on the back and pointed to a sign reading “Silence” at the beginning of a wood-chipped path that dipped down into a small ravine. I nodded Yes, but wondered about Julia’s new interest in nature. All those years I tried to get her to go for a walk, get out of the house. Besides this woods seemed like any other. Green leaves. Brown dirt. Noisy. Probably squirrels. As Julia and I neared the stream, she slowed down. “Breathe, honey. Doesn’t the cool air here feel refreshing?” A narrow clearing became suddenly visible alongside the stream. About a dozen men and women were in the midst of a tai chi routine, everyone in unison with no apparent leader.
Julia whispered, “Panduranga says, ‘Silence is the seed and the fruit.’”
“And who’s that again?” I mimicked her whisper.
“The teacher.”
“Oh, yeah.”
***
The dinner was good—for vegetarian food. The surprise was the portions. Nothing restrained there. This was not a “fat farm.” The cafeteria line offered spiced lentils with brown rice and a large green salad. The condiment offerings elaborate—sunflower seeds, brewer’s yeast, wheat germ, and cilantro, to name a few. Julia and I sat at a large round table with four others. They were all adults, all dressed in their Sunday best. Even though I’d changed clothes, I still felt out of place. The dining room was so large it could have held two wedding banquets. There was a din of cheerful conversation, as in the courtyard, but this time with the light clatter of silverware.
“Hello, my name is Julia. This is my daughter, Katherine, from Ann Arbor, Michigan.”
“Hi. James from Madison, Wisconsin. Go, Badgers.” I smiled politely at the reference to Big Ten rivalry.
“Debby…Houston.”
“Pete and my wife, Ginny. We’re on staff here at the ashram.”
No more information was offered. People returned to talking among themselves.
Julia asked, “How’s the food, honey?”
“Okay, thanks.” I spooned the soup and sipped.
“I’m so anxious to hear how you’re doing. Did you like teaching the spring term? And what are you doing the rest of summer?”
I wanted to be the one asking the questions. I was feeling more awake now. What was the deal with this place? How had she come to be affiliated with it? What did “they,” whoever “they” were, want from Julia? But here, sitting across from the ashram staff, was not the right place.
I examined my mother’s face closely, looking for some evidence of an underlying anxiety. Instead I again felt jealous of her delicate nose and full lips. How come I hadn’t inherited those features? “Spring term went well. My classes were full.”
“That’s great, honey.” Julia sprinkled more salt and pepper on her salad.
“I thought I might go to New York and visit Whitney, do some research in and around the city. I’m writing an article.” I hesitated, but seeing Julia was attentive, said, “’Can job candidate personality tests predict white collar crime?’ A mouthful, huh?”
Julia patted my hand. “I’m so proud of you. But I do worry that you’re under too much stress.”
A tall, middle-aged man, handsome enough for the cover of Esquire, wearing a red tunic over khaki pants, stopped behind Julia and put his hand on her shoulder. He had an ease?no, a confidence?as he approached, like the maitre d’ at a fine restaurant. “Hi. Can I join you?”
“Of course.” Julia glanced at me and nodded toward the man. “This is Virgio.” Then, to him, “My daughter, Katherine.”
“Your mother said you were coming. How was the drive?”
I immediately noticed a change in Julia as Virgio sat down next to her. She seemed more attentive, more engaged, brighter. I thought that perhaps this man was the answer to at least one of my questions. “Fine. Where are you from?”
“Florida. I met your mother at the Center in Naples.”
“Hmm.” I looked at Julia, who was focused on stirring brewer’s yeast into her soup.
“So, did you come here together?” I asked Virgio. My shaking foot inadvertently kicked Julia’s chair, so I pushed back a few inches.
“We drove up with a group of others. I’m going to be here a while longer, though. I’ve got a seva assignment for the summer, working on the grounds. I’m looking forward to being outdoors. I’m a tax accountant, mostly inside at my desk. This is my vacation.”
“Must be for a lot of people. The grounds are well groomed.”
“Yep. A labor of love.”
“So, Julia, what is our seva?” I wondered if I had said it correctly.
“Chopping, remember?”
***
We finished dinner. Virgio left us to “spend some quality mother-daughter time together.” I pleaded with Julia, “Can we take the shuttle back? I’m ready to call it a night. Major tired.”
“Sure.” Julia took my tray and put it on the conveyor belt to be sorted. Through an opening to the dish room, we could see a dozen aproned people scurrying around. Some of the people washing dishes were singing to Indian music.
Julia continued, “Actually, I want to get up at three o’clock for meditation, so that works for me.”
“Three o’clock? In the morning? You’re getting up at three o’clock?”
“Well, a few minutes before. I like to be in the sanctuary at three. That’s why I like staying at Lakshmi.” Now I know how to pronounce it. “The sanctuary’s right there.”
“Then do you come back to bed?” I was feeling more tired by the minute. Seeing the shuttle pull around the corner was a relief.
“At four, there’s a chant in the sanctuary. Then the café opens and I get a cup of chai—you’ll have to try it. Fresh ground spices everyday.”
We arrived at the shuttle stop just as the bus pulled up. I noticed the driver checking my nametag. He didn’t say anything.
Julia went on—I’d never known her to be so forthcoming—“After chai, there’s another chant in the main hall. Maybe you’d like to go once you get settled?”
“And the time would be?”
“It starts at five-fifteen.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Around seven, I’ll come back and get you for yoga. Do you think you could handle that tomorrow?”
I sighed as if resigning myself to a huge sacrifice. “For you, of course.” Actually, the idea sounded good. I needed to move my body and I’d always wanted to try a yoga class. The full-sized school bus bounced over a speed bump. I was glad I’d eaten a light dinner.
I looked sideways at my mother whose eyes were soft and dreamy. “So, tell me about Virgio. A Latin? Really, Julia.”
“Oh…” Julia shifted in her seat. Her voice seemed to go up an octave. “There’s not much to tell. Met him a couple of months ago. I didn’t mention it, well, you know, I didn’t want you to worry.” Her voice changed back to normal. “What do you mean, ‘a Latin’?” Her eyes met mine. “I’m offended.”
“Sorry. I just…you know, their reputation of womanizing…and Dad’s tendency…I just don’t want you involved with another guy like Dad.” I stumbled, feeling caught; I couldn’t believe I had let the words out. Yes, it had been a long time since my philandering dad had abandoned us—I had been in fifth grade—but remembering it must still hurt Julia. “Sorry.”
Julia looked out the window.
I patted her on the knee. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what got into me. Just tired, I guess.”
Julia put her hand over mine, squeezed it, and then held it gently. As the bus bumped along, I remembered another time our hands had been joined like this, but mine had been on top, comforting and reassuring my mother. Julia had been recovering from an “accidental” overdose after she’d loaned her boyfriend, twenty years her junior, $15,000 to set up a band he was managing. The lover and the money had disappeared somewhere in Texas.
***
Back in our dorm room, after reading a few pages from The Known World, I succumbed to a wave of drowsiness and set the book aside.
The next morning, I had the sense that I’d been dreaming, but couldn’t hold onto any impressions. Bits and pieces of images floated in and out of my consciousness so quickly I felt dizzy. I stretched to see the clock. Six a.m. I went back to sleep.
Julia roused me, and we quickly dressed for yoga class. I had felt drugged again when I woke up. I was tired from the trip, and I usually had trouble waking up that early, but today the grogginess was thicker than usual. The class would be invigorating, just what I needed.
When the teacher started with sun salutations, I threw myself into the postures. Even though I’d never done yoga, I held Down-facing Dog without much effort. My early dance training and regimen of running and stretching must have helped.
The teacher instructed us to pair up for an exercise. One partner would stand facing away from the other, then reach back and let the other take her hands. The front person then leaned forward, looking like the figurehead of a ship. Julia went first and opened her chest, her shoulders moving back toward me, her back arched gracefully. I felt the full weight of my mother as she fell forward. Then it was my turn. I put my hands behind me. Julia took them and told me to go when I was ready. I leaned slightly. She said, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” No! clamored in my head. I tensed, stood up straight and said, “There, that’s enough.” I walked over to the wall and stretched, leaving Julia standing alone.
When the class was over, the instructor approached as we were putting away our mats. He smiled at Julia and then turned to me. “You did well for never having taken yoga.”
I didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not. How did he know this was my first class? “Thanks.”
“You’re strong and flexible. That’s a rare combination.”
“I try to stay in shape.”
***
Julia and I arrived at the dining room just as it was about to close, but there was still plenty of oatmeal and chai. I went back for seconds.
“Is there caffeine in this?” I asked Julia, pointing to the drink.
“Yes. Made with black tea.”
“Then how is it I’m feeling sleepy again?” I took another sip. “I felt fine during yoga, but now I feel like I need a nap.”
“Maybe you’ll feel better when we’re chopping. We’re signed up for morning seva.” Julia started clearing our dishes from the table. I watched in awe. I just couldn’t get used to this new woman in front of me, being—dare I say?—practical and independent.
***
Bags of onions lay on a huge stainless-steel table in a corner away from the dish room. Two women with paring knives opened the bags and dumped a mountain of the unpeeled vegetable onto the shiny surface. A beautiful middle-aged woman with blond-highlighted hair, the seva supervisor, greeted Julia and me warmly and gave us plastic gloves, aprons, knives, and cutting boards. She showed us how to peel the onions; the machines would do the chopping. As our knives ran through the crisp orange casing, the smell of onions filled the room. I whispered to Julia, “Why couldn’t we have parsley?”
A CD was playing an Indian chant, and the other women were humming along. They both had round faces and olive skin and looked Mexican; one was younger and could have been a sister. We all sat on stools around the table. No one spoke. I looked up after dumping my first onion into a big bowl in the middle of the table and saw that one of the women was swaying with the music. No one else seemed to notice.
The erratic chopping and slicing on wood boards sounded like a percussion band warming up. The room filled with the sting of onion juice and the women’s low humming. The overhead lights seemed to flicker. Suddenly, I felt woozy and then everything went blank, a dark screen in a dark hall.
“Honey, wake up. Are you okay?” came to me in muted tones. Julia stroked my forehead and cheeks.
I moaned. “What?” Later I learned that the wooden stool had slipped out from under me and I landed on the floor; the knife I’d been holding slid across the tile and my head hit a rubber mat next to the chopping table.
“You fainted.” Julia put her hand under my head and lifted it gently.
“I don’t feel well.”
“You don’t look well.” Julia helped me sit up and gave me a glass of water.
I took a sip and looked around, smiling weakly at the other women looking down at me, their eyes wide.
The seva supervisor said, “I’ll get a car to drive you to the nurse’s office.” When she returned, I was still sitting on the floor. “Do you need help getting up? There’s a young man coming.”
Julia motioned to the supervisor to give her a hand, and the two women got me to my feet and onto a stool. A man wearing a white tunic and white pants entered the room. He wore a small white beanie on his head. I couldn’t tell if his head was shaved or if he was naturally bald. His gaze was as confident as his stride.
He spoke directly to me in a mild Southern accent. “Are you well enough to walk to the car?”
I nodded and took another drink of water. The Mexican women backed away toward their earlier posts, smiling, with the palms of their hands together over their hearts.
I hadn’t seen it coming, the fainting. Maybe no one ever did. I’d never fainted before. Now awake, I felt weak but not disoriented. I was at the ashram, with Julia, with several foreign strangers around me trying to help. But was I sick? Why had I passed out? It didn’t make sense.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
In the car, I turned to Julia. “Do I have a fever? I feel chilled.”
“I think so. The nurse will take your temp.”
Within a few minutes we arrived at a portable building off a parking lot. The beanie-capped man opened the car door, took my hand, and pulled me up. “I’ll wait here for you.”
Julia climbed out the other side. “Thanks.”
I glanced at the man’s face and smiled weakly. He didn’t smile back but said, “Take it easy.” In that quick snapshot, I saw something I couldn’t quite make out but didn’t want to forget. His features were ordinary; nothing stood out in any pronounced way. His coloring was fair, eyebrows light brown, eyes brown, skin lightly tanned. By the time I reached the nurse’s office, I’d catalogued the impression in the part of my brain labeled “Intriguing Men to Avoid.”
The nurse was an older woman, probably in her mid-sixties, with her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. “Former hippie,” I thought, then sat down where the nurse indicated and held out my wrist so she could take my pulse. The blood pressure cuff came next, then the thermometer. The nurse and Julia exchanged a few comments: “Julia, Florida;” “Nancy, New Mexico.”
The nurse put her instruments aside and reported, “One hundred point one. Any other symptoms?”
“Hmm. I guess it hurts a little when I swallow. Hadn’t noticed that before.” I slumped in my chair, feeling like a child at the school nurse’s office.
Looking straight into my eyes, the nurse said, “You’ve never been here before.”
Feeling irritated on top of feeling sick, I nodded. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Sometimes people can’t handle the intensity here. They may get sick. It’s a way of cleansing.” The nurse directed her comments to Julia as much as to me.
“But she’s in such good health.” Julia sounded apologetic.
“Yes, but the energy is powerful here. And people might get sick if their lives are very stressful…” The nurse put her hand on my shoulder. “You need to rest until you feel better. Stay in your room. No exercise. Just rest.”
“Thanks.” I could hardly get the word out. How unprofessional. Even if she looked like a hippie, I couldn’t believe she’d come out with something so unscientific. I wanted to ask about possible food poisoning, but didn’t trust that I’d get a straight answer.
The white-clad driver was waiting. He opened the doors for us and was silent for the short journey to Lakshmi Hall. I kept my eyes straight ahead, focused on the black asphalt road, afraid that if I looked sideways, I’d get dizzy and faint again. Closing my eyes made it worse, so I continued staring ahead. The road seemed to stretch out to infinity, reminding me of the time I’d mistakenly eaten a hashish brownie. I turned to the driver. “Do you smoke dope? I mean, do people here get high?” I knew my mother didn’t touch the stuff, but that could explain the unpredictable behavior of the others, like the nurse.
His lips curled slightly. “That’s kind of a personal question.”
“Of course, sorry.” I flushed.
“No problem.” He turned into the drive in front of Lakshmi Hall.
***
Once Julia and I reached our room, having turned down the driver’s offer of an escort, I exploded. “What’s going on here? I was fine!” I sank down on the bed.
“Honey, it’s what the nurse said. It’s the energy here.”
“And you buy that? You understand what the hell that means?”
“Well, not exactly. I just know it does happen to other people. And maybe it has nothing to do with the ashram. You’ve been working too hard.” She sat down next to me. “Can I get you some Tylenol or aspirin?”
“Yes, thanks…if something so normal is allowed around here.”
Julia handed some tablets to me with a glass of tap water. I waved it away and took a bottle of water from my travel bag.
“Have you ever been sick here?” I swallowed and laid my head back on the pillow with a sigh that I hoped would annoy Julia. This wasn’t what I had had in mind. I came to the ashram to rescue her and here she was acting like a nurse, taking care of me.
“No, I always feel fantastic. That’s why I keep coming back.” Julia leaned over, put her hand on my forehead. “I’m sorry, honey, but I’m sure you’ll be fine in a day or two. The nurse was right. Rest is what you need. You’ve probably needed it for a long time.”
Read Chapter Two