Love is a Finite Experience

by B Anders

  “Don’t do that, don’t push me away.”

  “Why the fuck should I care about you, Harper? Why the fuck would anybody even bother with you? Shit!” Courtney looked away as tears started to flow.

  “Courtney, please. Please don’t cry.”

  “I’m not crying. I’m just so frustrated. It’s like we’re doing some weird tango. One step forward, two steps back. Like me and Patty all over again. I love you. I love you not. It’s all so fucked up.”

  “Courtney, I’m not Patty. I’ll never want to hurt you like she did. I promise I would never ever do anything to hurt you like that. "

  “Sure, you’re probably going to hurt me even worse.”

  "What do you mean by that?" Harper asked nervously uncertain as to what to expect from the other woman

  Courtney's reply was no more than a whisper. "I like you. For some stupid, no good reason, I don’t even understand, I really like you. What you say and do affects me, and I hate it because I can't seem able to shut down my feelings for you and it scares the shit out of me."

  Harper thought for a minute. "You feel lost because you want to trust me, maybe you already do, but you’re afraid I will never validate that trust.”

  “God, I hate it when you’re lucid. It’s like you’re some sort of idiot savant.”

  “Hey, there’s no need to be mean.”

  “Harper, do you trust me?”

  “Yes, but you're afraid of trusting me because I lose it every so often..."

  “But you haven’t so far, well not as much. You took care of me yesterday. Thank you.”

  “You picked a fight with the bartender because you were upset with me. Courtney, I never meant to upset you.”

  “I know it’s the idiot in you.”

  “Laugh all you like, but I think I have a solution to this problem”

  "So, there is a solution?" Courtney asked before spawning across the bed, her fingers reaching instinctively to play with the hem of Harper’s nightshirt.

  "I could, I mean, I would, could show you what I've been writing..."

  Courtney sat up and smiled, "That could be a good place to start."

  ***

  “New London? Looks more like New Strip Mall,” you grinned, the scenery in Connecticut sucked, but we never left the highway, built in rest areas designed to keep travelers off their precious state roads, “fuck 'em,” it was whispered and your eyes twinkled in agreement.

  We held hands so tight, my fingertips went white, your lips were nearly blue, the bridge was cloud high, the boats in the river below were specks, the car barreled along, the driver ignoring our terror, the navigator shouting details of the massive expanse which was sure to plummet before we could get to the other side, safe on solid ground, I felt you tremble, you needed reassurance, I gave a wink and said, “blub we're gonna drown in this tub,” you laughed until you snorted and then we laughed some more.

  The wind ripped at our light weight jackets, we shivered, but it didn't matter, we could have stood there for a million years, and the scene would still have been colossal, the top of the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the view of DC, the power of brilliant ideas chiseled into immovable stone sheltered us in the truth we are all capable of greatness, the do-gooder without a clue running up to us offering to help carry your wheelchair to the bottom of those massive stairs broke the spell. “Who knew Lincoln was so tall,” Dad quipped as we rolled back to the elevators.

  “Can you imagine trying to get to sleep at Spanish guy's place,” Mom asked, “why we would want to sleep when we could be awake there,” I whispered in your ear, you did a full belly laugh.

  Courtney carefully turned the page. Scribbles filled every available inch of paper on the map. Harper had compulsively written down one-liners and full-blown scenes as the past came hurling back at her. They were fragments of memories, ghosts of the one brief respite Harper had from the crushing reality of her childhood. In them, Courtney could see the sweet enduring hope of the child Harper had once been, a child with the persistent belief that life was going to get better for her and her brother from that moment on.

  Harper emerged from the shower with a cat like grace. A towel wrapped tightly around her torso. Courtney noticed from the corner of her eye, the dripping wet hair, and the red-rimmed eyes. She looked up quizzically at Harper, but the other woman was unwilling to meet her eyes and instead chose to focus on the beige carpeting.

  “Harper, it’s beautiful. The stanzas are like a series of micro poems. Has anyone ever told you, you have a talent with words?"

  "Thanks," Harper muttered with a blush. “I don’t normally show my scribbles to other people. They’re my private thoughts, but I thought I should show them to you.”

  “Then I should be very thankful to be given the privilege. What are you going to do with them, when you're done?"

  Harper looked up to see if Courtney was serious. "I don't know yet. I'll know when I'm done. You okay with that answer? I don’t have a better one to offer you."

  Courtney nodded silently before she carefully put the pages back into Harper's bag. "You ready to hit the road? We still have a lot of miles to cover."

  "Florida, here we come," Harper forced a smile.

  “Then you better get dressed and dry out your hair, you don’t want to catch your death of cold.”

  “Huh, later. What do you want for breakfast?” Harper asked as she picked up the room service menu. “I’m starving.”

  “Mmmmmmm, anything with bacon is fine.” Courtney replied crossing over to Harper’s side of the bed with an extra towel. “And you’re starving because you didn’t have any dinner last night. You should have taken my offer to split the fried chicken.”

  “Right, I saw the gnaw marks on what was left of those chicken bones. They look like a coyote got to them.”

  “Harper, you’re seriously not funny. Anything good on there?”

  “They only have steak and eggs or biscuits with sausage gravy. What would you like?”

  “Steak and eggs. I pass on the biscuits. What about you?”

  “I’ll have the same.” Harper flinched slightly as she felt Courtney’s hands gently towel dry her wet hair. "Hey, no touching.”

  “But, you’re dripping all over the bed.”

  “Let me have the towel I’ll do it myself if my dripping on the bed offends you.”

  "Here help yourself, hmmmmm, Harper, if it's okay with you," Courtney was cautious. "I'd like to make another overnight stop before we hit the sunshine state proper."

  "Thought you were in a hurry? You know getting back to the grind and all. Don’t want the big boss man to think you’re some kind of slacker."

  Courtney nodded. “I thought I was too. Harper, I need to fly out to Dallas right after. The grunts at Corporate Office will return the car so you don’t have to worry about it and I’ll get them to arrange for you to catch the Amtrak back to Boston. It’s a direct train from Orlando to Back Bay. I’ll pass you the cash so you can catch a cab home from there.”

  “When are you coming back to Boston?”

  “Not for a long while yet. There’s a project over on the West Coast I need to keep tabs on for Bill. I’ll probably be stuck in Seattle for the next eighteen months. I don’t know if I will ever be back here so I might not ever get another chance to see Richmond Hill, Georgia and," Courtney's voice broke when she saw tears in Harper's eyes. "I'd really like to see that chapel you went to for Christmas Eve mass."

  Harper wiped her eyes, "Thank you, Courtney."

  "You’re welcome, Harper.”

  ***

  It was the same. It could have been thirty minutes or thirty years since she last laid eyes on the place, but nothing had changed. Ever shingle, every blade of grass was exactly as Harper pictured it in her mind all these years. Classic white painted walls befitting every southern church in the Bible Belt shining like a beacon across a lush untended field. Clean straight lines graced the structure with an austere beauty often lost in the ornate G
othic trappings of their European counterparts. Here, glass windows were placed to let in natural light, not color the brilliance into garish glass mosaics. It was a structure made lovely by the purity of function.

  The small wood frame structure was often mistaken by visitors for a detailed replica constructed as part of a Hollywood set. One of those fabricated buildings filmed at wide angle to give it the appearance of size and stature that would be dismantled and forgotten days after the final shoot. But, this was not some whimsical toy constructed as a backyard hobby, it was a functioning church steeped in American history. Its congregation was indifferent to size. They felt a minimum of three was all they needed to honor their God. Although a limit of fifty-nine was set by the fire marshal at any one service in case their God sparked a fire in the old wooden structure, despite knowing full well a Roman Catholic Church in the Deep South was not going to be a huge crowd puller. In days past such a building might have drawn a different crowd. One of masked men in white robes and burning torches, but Henry Ford had other ideas in his need to create a brave new world.

  "Are we here? Is this the place?" Courtney asked with a hint of disappointment.

  Harper nodded. "Isn't it beautiful?"

  "Well, it's," Courtney shrugged, "it's kind of small."

  "Size doesn't always matter, Courtney."

  Courtney shook her head, "From your mouth to God’s ear. I'm not touching that with a twenty foot pole." They both giggled like school kids before Courtney explained, "I guess after reading the poem, I expected something different. You know something bigger and grander."

  "Poem?" Harper asked. “What poem?”

  "You know the one you wrote that went, 'As the December sun crept over the frosted, frozen field, features obscured in a shadowy cloak, a silhouette of strength against the bright rising form of reality.' Remember?"

  Harper nodded with a small smile at the edges of her lips. "The pages must have fallen out of order. I wrote that, about a bull, I saw standing on a hilltop in Virginia."

  "Great! I commit one poem to memory in my entire life, and it's the wrong one."

  "No," Harper reached over and put her hand on Courtney's cheek. "A poem can never be wrong if it means something to you."

  "Wow, better get the hip waders. It's getting deep in here."

  “So long as it’s not bullshit, I’m okay.” Harper replied with an unreserved laugh.

  “Wow, this is the first time I’ve…well…you laughed, and it wasn’t like bitter or something.” Courtney said as she reached upwards to gently stroke the back of Harper’s hand.

  “Yeah, wow. It’s the first time for a very long while.” Harper smiled before slowly pulling away from Courtney’s touch. "Come on, let's take a look around."

  Harper closed the car door with a gentle tap carefully not to slam it. Looking at her, Courtney followed suit even though she seemed awkward in the moment.

  "Harper, what’s with the silent treatment? Who are you worried about bothering? There isn't even a cemetery to disturb," Courtney asked with an air of disbelief, but whispered nonetheless.

  "We're just being respectful," Harper whispered back.

  Courtney snorted, "Oh, I suppose God doesn't like noise. Right, that makes sense. The maker of thunder, volcanoes, and opera singers doesn't like loud noise like she doesn’t like gay people and single mothers."

  "Heretic," Harper mumbled with an amused smile as she reached for the front door of the small church. Neither expected the door to yield with a gentle tug. The surprise made Harper stumble backwards, and instinctively Courtney grabbed Harper by the waist to keep the other woman from crashing into her.

  “Courtney!”

  "Hey, I'm instituting martial law to override the no touching rule. If you're going to fall on me, I need to take a defensive stance to keep the both of us from hitting the ground. This is non-negotiable."

  Harper glanced over her shoulder and winced, "Nothing wrong with hitting the ground once in a while. You should try it. At least from there, you can't fall any further."

  "Oh, Harper, life isn't about failing. It's about climbing a little higher every day."

  "So says you and Hallmark." Harper grunted as she stepped forward and away from Courtney. The feel of the other woman’s arms around her still lingering on her skin.

  ***

  The church had six full pews on either side with a curious opening in the front left row. Harper walked straight into the church pulled by something she could not explain to Courtney. Reaching the front, her knees gave out when she saw the pew had been cut in half to allow place for handicap seating. Choking back the sob at the back of her throat, her hand reached out on its own to touch the lettering on the shiny brass marker screwed into the railing.

  Welcome travelers who come on foot, on bended knee, on wheel

  Your faith has found you a family here in our humble home

  “Harper, what’s wrong?” Courtney asked in a worried voice as she pulled the other woman back onto her feet.

  “Well, shit...”

  "Hello," the voice made both women jump. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," the elderly priest apologized as he struggled to make his arthritic knees move faster, "I saw your car parked outside with a window smashed in, and I just wanted to check if you needed assistance.”

  Courtney, fearful of a trespassing charge began to babble. "Oh no, we’re fine. Don’t worry about the window. We’ll get it fixed at the next town. You see, the door was wide open. We were just going to say...Well, pay our respects...You know, whatever, and be on our way. We didn't mean to intrude..."

  "Of course," he dismissed her explanation with a wave of his hands that looked suspiciously like a blessing. “There’s a garage down the street not far from here. Ask for Buck and tell him I sent you. He’ll see to that window.”

  "Hope he didn't just baptize me," Courtney muttered in Harper's ear nervously.

  Harper smirked, "Unlikely, but if you get a craving for fish on Friday, let me know."

  "Have you ladies traveled far?" The priest asked.

  "We’re heading to Florida," Courtney replied. “Thanks for the tip about Bubba,"

  "Bucky," Harper corrected.

  "Buck," the priest said as he sat on the bench nearest them.

  "Right, thanks. Well, we really should be on our way.” Courtney didn't like the idea of giving the man too much information on a road trip marked so far by shoplifting and pepper spray.

  Harper, however, had no such reservations. "We're from Boston."

  The man's face lit up. "Oh, how wonderful! We've had more than a few visitors from Boston over the years. Will you be able to stay for mass tomorrow morning? I'd love for you to meet our families."

  "Wow, I thought you folks only turned on the charm offensive at Christmas or Easter," Harper's sarcasm was cutting. "Is this some kind of three hundred sixty-five day open door to get donations year round?"

  "Hey Harper, lighten up," Courtney whispered. “He’s just trying to be nice. You know nice is the opposite of being a jackass.”

  The priest either ignored Courtney or was too hard of hearing to catch her words. "Our doors are open twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year for any and all to visit. I try to make it a point to stop in and say hello to our guests. After all, it's only polite. They’ve often travelled so very far. If I have offended you in some way, I'm sorry." His eyes twinkled as he patted the seat next to him and said, "Please, come sit by me and tell me what I did to upset you."

  "I'll tell you what you did. You put a handicap spot in!" Harper's outburst was unrestrained. "What, some state or fed agency told you, you had to be accessible? Or did you get a grant to saw a pew in half to make room for poor crippled kids! When did you cut this hole? Last month? Last year? Oh wait, don't tell me, when the ADA passed?"

  The man didn't flinch as he gently looked into Harper’s furious eyes. "I can tell you the exact day that pew was cut, and room was made for a wheelchair. It was the da
y I found my calling. See, I was working as a handyman. Drinking got the best of me. Lost everything I spent my youth building up. Sent a wife to an early grave. Well, the day after Christmas 1983, I get a call from Levi at the hardware store. Tells me the parish priest was going to try to fix a pew. Levi was worried the guy would cut his hand off, and he said he'd give me twenty-five dollars if I would go over to the church and help the priest out. So, I come over. Sure enough, the priest had already cut his thumb trying to get the circular saw put together."

  In a near trance, Harper walked to the pew and sat down next to the old man. "The parish priest. He was a Georgetown man. Big, played football."

  "Yep, he knew his way around a pigskin, but nothing about building stuff, much less a circular saw. So, I set to work making space to put a wheelchair in and I got curious because none of the Catholics I knew back then, there were only thirty of them living around here, were using a wheelchair. So I asked him why he needed something like a wheelchair spot." The priest's eyes misted over, "He tells me some family with a boy in a chair came to Christmas mass, and there was no place for the chair."

  "Two big guys had to move one of the pews outside to make room at the back," Harper mumbled. “It was cold that day, they wanted to make sure we were warm.”

  The priest nodded. "That's right. They were all mighty embarrassed. After the family went on their way Father Rossi decided, he would never let something like that happen again. He wanted everybody to be able to find their home away from home here. He knew he let those kids down that night, and he didn't want it to happen ever again. Mostly, I think he hoped they would come back and see that we were waiting for them." The old priest put out his hand, "Glad you finally came back, welcome home.”

  "You couldn't possibly remember her!" Courtney scoffed.

  The priest smiled, "You, young woman, are wrong. I have a picture of her with her brother and parents right where you're standing on my desk. Father Rossi gave it to me after my ordination. You see, the day I spent sawing that pew, making room for everybody who wanted to be near God, that day got me sober, got me to God, and got me on my way to the seminary. Her family saved my life. And, I kept the faith they would return one day, and I could say thank you."