Is This All There Is?

by Mann, Patricia

  “Please, Dave. I won’t be able to sleep. Just tell me.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m writing a song for you.”

  “A song? For me? But I didn’t even know... ” I took one hand off the steering wheel and pressed my palm against my chest to keep my heart from bursting through it.

  “I didn’t want to tell you that I play the guitar and sing because, well, like I said, I wanted to surprise you.” My breath left me again and I covered the mouthpiece on the phone as I tried to take in more oxygen.

  “Please don’t write a song for me. It’s too much. No one’s ever… I mean… I can’t do this.”

  “You’re not doing anything. I haven’t been inspired to write for a while. Now it’s fun again.”

  “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Dave. I can’t handle the stress, the constant worrying about someone finding out.”

  “No one’s going to find out. You’re deleting the emails and instant messages, right?”

  “Yes. Well, I think so. I mean with these damn computers you never know if things are being saved in some back up file or something.”

  “Beth… I know it’s scary, but we just need to be careful.”

  “It’s not just that. It’s wrong, Dave. Don’t you think about that?”

  “Yeah. I have thought about that, a lot actually. And who the hell gets to say what’s wrong or right for us? No one is perfect. Lot’s of people do it.” I couldn’t figure out whether or not he had the guilt gene, because he wasn’t the one betraying someone he loved.

  “Well, I’m not lots of people.”

  “Okay, I get it. You’re torn. Maybe you can’t continue this for much longer. But you have to at least let me play my song for you. I have to see you and hold you one more time. Just don’t say I can’t ever see you again.”

  “I didn’t say that.” A long silence.

  “Dave, I have to go. I’m almost home. I’ll instant message you soon, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay. And Beth?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You deserve to be serenaded. To have someone who’s crazy about you sing to you. Give yourself at least that if nothing else.”

  “I… I have to go.” The flood of emotion stirred my angry bladder and as soon as I got home I ran to my tiny little powder blue bathroom. It felt prettier and more welcoming than it ever had before and I sat there in peaceful silence long after I was finished. That is, until Sam started banging on the door. It seemed like everyone was asleep when I tiptoed in but I should have known Sam would be sleeping with one eye open.

  “Shhh. Sam, you’ll wake everybody up. I’ll be out in a second.”

  When I opened the door, he stood there peering up at me with his sad blue eyes. He wasn’t angry, just disappointed that I was later than he expected. I knew what he wanted. He stood there waiting for me to tell him it was too late for a book.

  I smiled and ran my hand up and down his little arm.

  “So which Mr. Moose book do you wanna read?”

  “Who Will You Be?”

  “Uhh, not that one Sammy. Not tonight. It’s so… long.”

  “Come on, Mom, please. It’s my favorite! And I can’t even remember the last time we read it.”

  I gave a slight nod.

  His eyes widened and he raced to his room to pull the book from the shelf. The warmth of his body cuddled up to mine in his bed felt like hot chicken soup down a sore throat.

  “Who will you be? We shall see, we shall see… ” I wondered what Dave’s room looked like. I thought about peeking in his shower to find the apple shampoo. Then I pictured being in the shower with him, his strong hands lathering my body, soapy bubbles squishing between our bodies as we pressed them together.

  “Will you be kind and honest like my teacher, Mrs. Dunder? Or mean and selfish like my neighbor, Mr. Blunder?” I saw Dave hovering above me, as I lay naked in his bed, the musky smell, the apple scent.

  “Are you like my brother Jake, who admits a mistake and bakes you a cake? Or are you like the old dame who never takes the blame, and doesn’t play fair, no matter the game?” Dave lowering himself onto me. My legs slowly parting, my body so ready, my heart full of fear.

  “Mom?”

  “Oh, sorry, Sam.”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  Breathe, Beth. Breathe.

  “Just work stuff.” He scrutinized my expression.

  “I don’t believe you.” I buried my face in the book.

  “I just have a lot going on right now.”

  “You’ll lose your way at some point. All of us do. You’ll come across creepy creatures, and I don’t mean at the zoo. But don’t worry, no don’t fret, you’ll do fine, yes you will. Just be sure that each step you take leads you uphill.”

  Chapter 18

  The doorbell rang for the second time. “Just use your key, Mom,” I shouted as one hand pinned down Jack’s writhing legs and the other fastened the little Velcro tabs on his diaper. I was annoyed that she couldn’t sense what I was doing and just come in.

  “Sam? Can you get the door? Sam?” No answer. Just the loud screeching of a video game racecar rounding a corner. But his hearing magically improved when she finally came inside. He thudded down the hall and into her arms.

  “Grandma, finally, you’re here! You’re nine minutes late. I was starting to worry.”

  She picked him up and swung him around. I struggled with the jammed zipper on Jack’s little sweatjacket. It had that just pulled from the dryer warmth and spring rain scent.

  “It’s no fair. Jack gets to be with you all day. Can’t I skip school and be with you Grandma?” She ruffled his hair. I combed it back into place with my fingertips.

  “I know Sammy,” my mother said, “but Jack and I get to take you to school and pick you up and then we’ll go for ice cream and to Toys R Us. How does that sound?” Both boys started yelling and jumping up and down. Jack didn’t have a very extensive vocabulary, but Toys R Us was definitely part of it. I looked at the clock and wondered what Dave was doing, where he was, what he was wearing.

  “So Mom, don’t forget to give this field trip permission slip to Sam’s teacher and his lunch goes in his cubby, it’s the third one on the bottom and let’s see, what else?”

  “Don’t worry Beth, we’ll be fine.”

  I had the feeling there was something I was forgetting.

  “And Sam, you promised you’d eat at least ten bites of your apple at lunch and when you go to the library don’t forget to ask Mrs. Connor if she has the Artemis Fowl series okay?”

  “Yeah, Mom. I know. So where are we going for ice cream, Grandma?”

  “Anywhere you want!”

  “Remember they only get one sweet treat a day, Mom.”

  She nodded like a scorned child and I knew I couldn’t count on her to stick to the rule. As they headed for the door, my mom turned to me with one eyebrow slightly lifted.

  “So what are you going to do today?”

  After an exaggerated grunt of exhaustion and overwhelm, I ran through a long list of chores and errands. She nodded with the eyebrow still raised. I ignored her and kissed the boys goodbye. I took a long deep breath when the door closed behind them.

  In the shower, I repeated the words over and over. I will not call or see him today. I will not call or see him today. As soon as I was dried with a towel wrapped around me and another one turban style on my head, I reached for the phone. I dialed *67 and then the number. It felt a little childish to block my identity, but I could only allow myself to be so vulnerable. His outgoing voicemail message began. I hung up. He wouldn’t know it was me. It would be like I never called. He’s in classes all day anyway, I told myself. But he’d miss classes for you, I thought. No, Beth. No.

  I got dressed, put in a load of laundry, washed the dishes from breakfast, took out the trash, and sat down to fine tune my lecture for that afternoon’s class: crafting effective corporate mission and vision statements. I was glad the topic was somethi
ng impersonal and somewhat dry. I couldn’t fathom how I was going to teach interpersonal communication again whenever it was assigned to me, what with all those lectures on romantic love and healthy family dynamics. Maybe by then things will have worked themselves out, I reasoned as I got back to work on the topic for that day’s class. I had probably given that same lecture twenty times and students always nodded with understanding at the points I hoped they would, and laughed when they were supposed to, but still, I never felt totally prepared. There was always the looming possibility that I would forget everything or that I’d launch into some off the cuff story that ended up making no sense and the fifty faces staring at me would scrunch up in confusion. Then of course I’d have countless new ratemyprofessors.com ratings the next day detailing the incident and announcing that Professor Thomas had lost her mind.

  I picked up the phone again. He always has a way of boosting my confidence, I thought. Maybe he’s in between classes. I hit *67 and dialed the number again. Voicemail again. Then I wondered if his phone had let him know he had a missed call from when I hung up earlier. I pictured him checking for messages at the end of the day and realizing he had ten hang-ups from an unknown number. He would know it was me. Oh God, I’ve become a stalker, I thought as I eased the phone back into its cradle.

  After ten minutes of unsuccessfully trying to focus on my lecture notes, I grabbed my keys and peeled out of the driveway not knowing where I was going. I drove mindlessly until I found myself heading south on Ventura Boulevard. After fiddling with the playlists on the iPod plugged into my cigarette lighter, I selected Moonlight Sonata, a perfect match for my mood. It was the very beginning of that dark premenstrual time of the month Rick had dubbed “black cloud days” long ago.

  When the song was over, I played it again and wondered what Beethoven was feeling when he wrote it. I shifted in my seat, wanting to get out soon. As I passed through Woodland Hills, Tarzana, and Encino, the weight of the signs on every other storefront felt like a crushing personal assault on my self worth: teeth whitening, cosmetic surgery, weight loss, tanning, waxing, polishing and so on.

  When I hit Sherman Oaks, a different kind of sign called to me. “The Psychic Eye Bookshop.” I had always been intrigued but never dared to enter. Without giving it a second thought, I made a U-turn at the next light and parked. My eyes took several moments to adjust to the low lighting and the bright purples and reds lining the walls and tables of books. Unfamiliar symbols and objects fought for my attention with every step. I apologized to no one in particular for the loud echoing noise I caused by bumping into what looked like a tremendous wind chime with long thick pipes dangling from a circle of dark wood.

  I ran my fingers over books, crystals and vials of essences, amazed by the sheer volume of remedies for the many ailments of modern life. I guess I’m not alone, I thought.

  I went up to the counter and before I could say anything, a young woman with hair dyed black as night, pale white skin and a large ring through her nose said, “Want a reading? Iyana’s here and she’s amazing. She’s usually booked up, but we just had a cancellation.” I hesitated, picturing Rick’s reaction to the idea of me spending our hard earned money on a psychic reading.

  “Yes. I do want a reading with Iyana.”

  Iyana looked much younger than me and her pin straight blond hair fell all the way to her waist. Her eyes were such a light blue they were almost white. She looked at me with a soft, knowing smile.

  “Are you ready?” For a moment, I considered saying “no” and running back out the door. But I followed her down a narrow hallway instead.

  As we passed through the strands of silver and gold beads that served as a door to the small square room, I savored the heady aroma of Nag Champa incense. It was like entering another world. Iyana settled into one of the two chairs on either side of a small table covered in a lavender and olive green cloth. The walls were adorned with indecipherable mystical images.

  She asked me to shuffle a deck of cards and separate it into three piles. I felt her eyes on my wedding ring and wondered if I’d have the courage to be honest with her. She scooped up the cards and looked at me for several more seconds than I was comfortable with.

  “So, what would you like to know?”

  Dave, my mind shouted. I need to know what’s going to happen with Dave.

  “Hmmm.” I shrugged nervously.

  “My husband. I guess I’d like to know… ”

  I stopped and suddenly I realized that I could say anything. She was not my neighbor or my student. I never had to see her again. I straightened up in my seat and looked directly into her eyes.

  “I want to know if my husband is the right person for me.”

  She placed the deck of cards on the table. The flame on a small cinnamon candle danced in circles.

  As she flipped several cards over and placed them in two rows on the table, I rubbed my cold hands together and tried to make sense of the symbols on the pentagram hanging on the wall behind her.

  The first card was a heart with three daggers through it. Goosebumps sprung up on my arms. One of the other cards showed a queen on her throne and read “Queen of Swords.” She studied each card carefully as she positioned it.

  “First of all, I should tell you that I don’t believe there is only one person for each of us. We have many soul mates who come into our lives to teach us the lessons we need to learn. Parents, friends, lovers, even children, they’re all our soul mates.”

  I liked the sound of that. It felt right to me. I have to ask her about Dave, I thought. She’ll understand. No. Just wait. Just let her say what she has to say.

  “You and your husband have a good partnership. You don’t see it right now, but there’s still so much he can teach you and that he needs you to teach him. Things are in a sort of holding pattern. But you could change that, if you wanted to.”

  My entire body convulsed at the sound of my cell phone ring tone. I reached for it with shaking hands and apologized to Iyana for forgetting to turn it off. It said private call and my heart rate must have increased by about 100 beats per minute. I switched the setting to silent and put it back into my bag, trying to calm myself. When I looked back at Iyana, her head was tilted to the side.

  “Is there someone else?”

  I looked away, fearful of another lecture like the one I got from Shelly.

  “It’s okay. I’m not here to judge.” She took my hand and turned it over to study my palm. “I see him here. He’s so different from your husband. Impulsive and affectionate. Is your husband a Virgo?”

  My eyes grew huge. “That’s incredible.”

  She lightly touched a small line on my hand with her fingernail.

  “He’s younger, isn’t he?”

  “You mean my husband?”

  She shook her head and her long dangling earrings chimed.

  The chill disappeared and I felt my cheeks heat up. I saw Dave’s face, his sexy smile, that dimple, his soft hair, his lips.

  “I don’t know exactly what this means, but the message I’m getting is that this situation is more dangerous than you think. You need to be very careful.”

  It felt like a kick in the stomach. I couldn’t breathe.

  “There are many paths you can choose at this point. It’s not that one is the right one and all the others are wrong, but there are some that will bring you closer to your truth.”

  I exhaled slowly. She waited a few seconds.

  “You see this card here, the Queen of Swords?” I followed her finger to the woman on the throne.

  “She’s you. This card is telling us that you have the strength and intelligence to do anything you put your mind to. But you have to let go of the old hurts that are blocking you.”

  She looked at my palm again.

  “I know your struggle is with these two men, but I see a third.”

  I raised my eyebrows, unable to imagine how I would handle a third man in my life. She smiled.

  “It may no
t be another man, but there’s a male energy. Wait.”

  She picked up a pen and pad of paper and wrote a large S in the middle of the page. I started to get anxious. I wanted to check my phone to see if there was a message from Dave. If I couldn’t do that, I at least wanted her to tell me more about Dave.

  She kept tracing over the large S and it hit me.

  “Oh my God, it’s Sam. It’s my son, Sam.” She nodded.

  “You and he go way back. Many lifetimes.”

  “I’ve always thought that.” My eyes were wet. Rick, Dave, Sam, love and resentment and guilt. It was too much. I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose.

  “The two of you are so different. You want him to be like you, but he’s not. If you keep trying to force him to be a version of yourself, you’ll lose him, at least emotionally. You have to let him be the person he is. You have to teach him how to accept and love someone who is different. And he doesn’t need your protection anymore. He wants you to hear him, to see him, and to honor his way of being in the world.”

  I rested my chin in my palms with my fingertips over my mouth and struggled to absorb the words. I wanted to hear about Dave, but I also realized this was probably the message that drew me into Iyana’s web that day.

  “Do you meditate?” I shook my head.

  “There’s something I want you to read.”

  When our time was up she led me back out into the shop and handed me a thick blue book on meditation. The author’s name sounded familiar. I grabbed the book, thanked her and headed for the counter to pay. I reached for my phone to see if Dave had left a message. The little screen said “3 missed calls.” My heart started pounding. I handed the cashier the book in a hurry and pulled out my credit card. Before I could check my phone again, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Iyana. I wondered if she had been watching me. She took my hand and grasped it firmly. Hers was warm and it felt good on my skin.

  “The fog you’re in right now will clear. Read the book. Meditate. Try to live more consciously.” I looked into her milky blue eyes and saw genuine concern.

  “I will,” I said. I didn’t believe it but I hoped she did.