Chapter 3
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 THREE
Julia was still fussing with her makeup in our room so I left to get the car. I couldn’t stop smiling; I was so happy to be leaving. When I pulled into the loading zone, my mother wasn’t there, so I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Not being sick felt wonderful. Like the freshest spring day, the first day of classes when you’re six years old, or the third day of a vacation when you wake up and realize you don’t have a thought in your head. I felt a tickle in my throat and coughed. But it was just a little one, like being in a room with smokers. No, I was well, and the congestion was all but gone.
A tap at the window startled me. I turned to see Julia grinning widely. She was wearing the dangling blue earrings; her makeup looked as if it had been applied professionally.
I looked around for Virgio, who had offered to do the driving. There he was, standing near the trunk of the car, talking to a young man who had his back to me; it didn’t matter. I knew who he was and why he was there. I grabbed my mother’s arm, squeezed it tightly, and hissed, “You are evil.”
Julia loosened my grip and kissed me on the forehead. “Happy birthday.”
Both men pivoted to face Julia and me. Virgio, dressed handsomely in tan linen pants and a white dress shirt, probably the quintessential Sunday dress in Naples, stepped forward. “Nice to see you looking well. Katherine, this is David. David, Katherine.”
David, shaven head covered with a cap of cotton batik, wearing army green pants and a bold printed African-looking shirt, shook my hand. “We’ve actually met before, sort of. Your skin has color. Impressive.”
Julia took the car keys from me and passed them to Virgio. “I invited David to join us. We ran into each other at dinner yesterday, and he mentioned he was due for an outing. So, of course, I thought it’d be nice for him to come along.”
I cast her a you-are-in-for-it look and aloud said, “I’ll sit with J…” I didn’t finish my statement because Julia had taken the front seat, leaving David and me to share the back. As I sat down and strapped myself in, I glanced at David, then looked away. I didn’t know what to say. He was too close. This man belonged in my “Men to Avoid” file, not inches away, within smelling distance. “What’s that scent of incense? I’ve noticed it a lot around here.”
“Oh, it’s Nag Champa. I’ll lower the windows. I was dhooping” He must have sensed my ignorance and explained, “Blessing the deities with incense, in the meditation hall this morning and didn’t think about it. You’re not allergic, are you?”
“No.” I thought maybe this guy was nice after all—that was a lot less interesting. Also a lot less compelling. All the nice guys end up wanting you to be as nice as them. They’re the ones that can’t say “no” to anyone and you end up waiting around while they fix someone’s tire even though there are other people who could help. “You can roll up the window. We need the AC. Really, its fine.” I leaned back, shut my eyes, and said to Julia, “Let me know when we’re there. I’m going to take a nap.”
I kept my eyes closed except when I turned away from David toward the window. The day was beautiful, clear, and sunny, with low humidity. The mountain road cut through rock dotted with yellow wildflowers until it merged with the New York State Thruway to New York City. The smell of something-Champa permeated the car. I both liked it and was annoyed by it. The incense users I knew smoked dope. David had been evasive about that. But no, he was just a dull, nice guy.
As we entered the Lincoln Tunnel, I opened my eyes and noticed David eyeing me and smiling. I squirmed and focused ahead. “It’s been too long since I’ve been here.”
“Me, too,” said David.
A little shiver traveled through me. Something in his voice… I recommitted to keeping my distance. The last thing I needed was to get curious about the man. It was more than the fact that I’d recently gotten out of a relationship; my research evaluation was pressing against every nerve in my body, and besides, who knew where he lived when he wasn’t at the ashram? He was at the ashram. He was one of them. And that certainly did not fit with any of my plans.
It was outrageous that Julia would stir things up by inviting David. I wondered if this was her way of trying to get me involved in the Vidya Shakti Center. It seemed that Virgio was a major motivation for her. Maybe she assumed I would be vulnerable to a man, too. My jaw clenched. I tried to relax it, massaging the joints on both sides of my face.
“What are you worried about?” David asked in a low voice that only I could hear.
“That’s kind of a personal question.”
“Touché.”
Virgio parked in a structure, and the four of us picked our way through the mid-town crowd toward the theater. While David engaged Virgio in pointing out the changes around Times Square, Julia fell back to walk with me. “How are you feeling?”
The cars honking, police whistles blowing and general chaos of hundreds of people going in all directions made it difficult to answer let alone get into detail. I almost had to yell, “Physically fine. Emotionally pissed.”
“This is your birthday present.” Julia gave me a stern look and begged, “Please try to relax and enjoy yourself.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Don’t make this complicated. David is a nice person, and he wanted to join us. End of story.”
“Uh-huh.” I rolled my eyes. “I wish I could trust you.”
David stepped to my side. “May I be your escort?”
“Uh…sure.” I clung to my purse with folded arms, but could feel the gentle pressure of his hand on my elbow.
As the lights went down, I sank into the cushioned seat, and the musical prelude began. I didn’t care what The Sins of Sor Juana was about or whether it was any good. In that moment, I was free from illness, free from the ashram, and as soon as the action began, I’d be free from thinking about David.
The performance turned out to be very engaging, with superb acting from the small cast. I identified with the Sor Juana’s need to make a difference, even if it meant making others cringe. Women have made progress since the seventeenth-century but there was still plenty of stress trying to achieve in a male-dominated society. Sor Juana was a nun in the patriarchal church; I was the newcomer at a University under a department chair forty years my senior. His last comment to me was “You have a lot to live up to. Do you know of Ellen Pope; here back in the early 60’s? She was quite a gal. Had three kids and time to play golf with my wife Milly.” He would never have said such a thing to a man. Was I hired just because of affirmative action, more women needed on staff?
Relieved that there was an intermission, I went to the restroom to collect myself. Sor Juana’s story had gotten to me. I hadn’t known what to expect, hadn’t seen any reviews. I cornered Julia. “How does this end? It’s really good…but intense.”
“It’s got me on the edge of my seat, too. I love the casting, especially of Sor Juana. I really feel the pain of her dilemma—to write and be herself or be ostracized.”
Julia joined Virgio and David in the lobby, but I slipped into the theater and thumbed through the program, looking for a summary of the play.
During the final scene, I felt the tears coming. I dabbed at my eyes, but couldn’t stop the flow down my cheeks. Sor Juana, writing in her own blood, sacrificed her voice as a writer rather than give her words to unreceptive minds. Did I ever have that kind of courage? I remembered the torture of my dissertation reviews, changing my proposal over and over to accommodate the committee. Was there something I should have fought for? And was I taking the easy way out by not staying at the ashram? Should I hold out longer to dig into the power it had over Julia?
When the curtain came down and the audience stood in ovation, I burst into sobs. Even my intense embarrassment couldn’t help me regain control. I dashed into the restroom, sat on the toilet, and let the tears flow. My brain felt drained of reason?the crying wasn’t rational. But I couldn’t stop. Outside the stall doors Julia sounded desperate. “Honey, what’s the matter? Are you okay?”
“Nothing…and no.” I leaned forward, my head in my hands. ?The convulsions gradually slowed.
“I’ll get you a water from the concession bar.”
Julia returned moments later, as I examined my red face and puffy eyes in the mirror. “What a mess. Sorry, don’t know what came over me.”
Julia patted me on the shoulder. “Honey, don’t apologize. You probably just needed a good cry.”
“This is a bad cry, really bad. There is nothing good about it.” I splashed water on my face and applied powder under my eyes. An image of my father came to mind. He was walking down the front steps of my childhood home, carrying his overnight bag. I remembered Julia weeping and myself at ten years old, hands on my hips. I was never going to cry. Not ever.
Julia handed me mascara and watched me apply it. “Almost as good as new.”
When we emerged from the rest room, Virgio and David were watching the doorway. I kept my head down, hoping nothing would be said about my outburst. It had been embarrassing enough in front of Julia, let alone these two strangers. David stood next to me as Julia and Virgio clasped hands. In my head I commanded, “Don’t any of you dare say a thing.” The four of us pushed through the massive dark doors to the street and were confronted with the bright afternoon sun.
David broke the silence. “Let’s walk a little instead of heading back right away.”
“Sounds great,” Julia and Virgio agreed simultaneously. They all turned toward me.
“Sure.” I tilted my head up to receive the sun’s heat, hoping it would reduce the swelling around my eyes. The fresh air was helping, but I still felt drained. “How about a sidewalk café?”
David said, “I know just the place. It’s a bit of a walk, though, toward the Village.” Turning to me, he asked, “How about we walk and Julia and Virgio bring the car? That is, if you’re up to it?”
There he was, too close again. But I didn’t have the strength to argue.
Even though we were walking at a moderate pace, the sun’s heat radiating off the buildings made me perspire. David, without saying anything, tapped my elbow and guided me to the shady side of the block. We continued in a silence that baffled me: it was comfortable. A part of me thought I should ask him about himself, but another part didn’t want to know. And more than that, I felt safer retreating inside myself. There was plenty of stimulation to make up for our lack of conversation. The city was buzzing, the low buzz of a Sunday afternoon—children’s voices coming from a corner park, the slap of a basketball against a backboard, car doors closing, and music drifting from the small shops along our way. The smell of hot dogs grilling and popcorn popping mingled with car exhaust. As we neared the crosswalk, David again touched my arm and we hurried our pace to make the light.
I wanted to ask, “Who are you?” I refrained, although I couldn’t imagine why I should be so intimidated.
Just then David stopped and turned to me, excitement in his voice. “See that store over there, the one with the T-shirts in the window? Do you mind if I run in for a minute?” He saw my look of surprise and explained, “I see a shirt my son’s been wanting.”
My jaw must have dropped, but I was able to answer, “Sure.”
David jogged across the street and disappeared into the tiny shop. Slowly, I walked after him, but stopped at the store window. Which shirt would it be? A son. Was he married after all, and was the setup of “David needs an outing” just my imagination? How old was the boy? Apparently old enough to ask for a shirt. Five? Ten? Fifteen? My eye was caught by a Batman design. That might be it. Then he’d be…what? About eight years old?
I saw my reflection in the glass and took a step back. What was I thinking? I’m a scientist, not in the habit of guessing. What was the empirical evidence? Okay—David was in his early thirties. So a fifteen-year-old son was unlikely. Eight was more like it. But the Batman shirt probably could be found anywhere, so what would be the big deal about that one?
Peering through the store window, I tried to find David among all the mannequins and displays. He was at the counter, apparently paying, laughing with the clerk. I was surprised to feel my heart flutter. I sighed, and shoved my hands into my skirt pockets.
David’s face was beaming as he returned. “He’ll be thrilled.” He took the youth size, black shirt with a gold Batman logo out of the bag and showed it to me.
“How old is your son?” I really wanted to be right about my guess.
“He’ll be ten next month.” David stuffed the shirt back into the bag. “Thanks for waiting.”
I smiled.
David said, “I got married too young. It only lasted a couple of years.” We crossed back to the shaded side of the street.
“And?” I hated to admit it, but now I needed to know.
“My ex and I share custody. It works out great. Actually we’re all at the ashram this summer. Chait is with his mother this weekend.”
“Chait? Is that a Sanskrit name?”
“It’s short for Chaitanya, a saint of Bengal during the late 1400s, early 1500s. He emphasized chanting to attain God. Both Chait’s mom and I are musicians, so it made sense.” I was hesitant to ask more, but after a few more strides, the question popped out. “Were you and your ex-wife involved in the Vidya Shakti Center when you met?”
“Yep. We were both seekers. Got spiritually awakened at the same time. Panduranga married us.”
“But isn’t Panduranga supposed to be infallible…kind of like the Pope? If he blessed your marriage…you must have trusted him…that he wasn’t making a mistake.”
“Panduranga trusts us to make our own decisions. Besides, what mistake? It was what it was. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
I swallowed hard. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay. No need to say you’re sorry.” David paused. “You know, there is no such thing as a mistake.”
“Oh, really? I’m sure my students would love to hear that one.”
Over our espressos at Jefe’s Café, I fought off the desire to probe into David’s life. A challenge, given he was bright, laid-back, and physically appealing?even more so as the day went on.
When Virgio and Julia arrived to pick us up, Julia switched to sit in backseat. I was relieved that I didn’t have to restrain myself any longer. Still, I found myself attracted to the rich tone of David’s voice. Often, he had us laughing.
As we neared the Vidya Shakti Center, the men shifted to discussing the changes in the City. Julia turned to me. “Darling, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the Center.”
I twisted in my seat to glare at Julia. My inner retort was, “Here it comes.” I anticipated the pitch: how I should be doing something more spiritual with my life, take stock of where I was going, that the Vidya Shakti Center was the best way to true well-being. Blah, blah, blah.
“I wanted you to spend time at the ashram to ease your mind it. Haven’t people been kind and wonderful?”
“Yes…And?”
“Since you’ve been sick, I’ve been worried. You’ve had a limited impression…” She raised her hand to keep me from saying anything. “I’m planning on bequeathing a considerable amount of my estate to the ashram, and I want you to be okay with that.” Again, Julia put her hand up as I tried to interrupt. “It’s important for me to know that you won’t resent it. This place has turned my life around, and although you might not agree or understand, I’d like you to be okay with it.”
Horrified, I squeaked out the words, “How much are you thinking…?” Then, convinced I had a right to know, I repeated with force, “How much?”
“I haven’t decided. Some percentage?fifteen, twenty, I imagine.”
Even though I’d been ready to leave that morning, my fear lingered that Julia was getting scammed. The ashram attendees didn’t seem menacing, but I wasn’t sure that the whole thing was legit. Did this group of so-called “spiritual seekers” have some way of luring wealthy, lonely single people and then taking their money? I needed to find out. It would be tough going back and forth to the prisons and to the City, but I had to do it. Luckily, the ashram stay wasn’t expensive, and meals were included. I wondered if that was part of the bait. I finally answered Julia, “I could work from here, I suppose, but I don’t know if that would give me enough to go on…”
“I don’t want any hard feelings, and I’m sure if you got to know…” Julia paused and stroked my face. Such a seemingly natural thing for a mother to do, but I couldn’t enjoy it. She went on, “It might help you in ways that you could never imagine. It did me. And I’m sure you’d see that everything is on the up-and-up, by meeting people, taking classes.”
“I’ll be really busy with my research, but I could probably swing it.”
“Wonderful! So, you can stay on after I go back to Florida. Remember, I’m leaving tomorrow, in the morning. I have lots to do to get ready. I go to India at the end of the summer—”
“What?” My throat tightened and tears pooled in my eyes. I feared I might cry for the second time that day. “You’re leaving the ashram so soon? Are you going to India by yourself? Is it safe?” Panic took over and I squeaked out, “For how long?”
“A few months. Honey, it’ll be fine. And you’ve got time to get used to the idea.” Julia leaned over and wiped a teardrop that had fallen on my upper lip. “I’m so glad you’re staying. It would be such a shame for you to go home with only the experience of being sick.”
I wanted to scream at her, tell her to act like herself again, to go back to being agoraphobic, depressed…safe. But I pressed my lips tightly, and said, “Well, there was that great birthday party and today…that play I’ll never forget.”
MORE TO COME…