by J. Schlenker
* * *
JOHN PASSED THE spot he had crouched in during his night in the cold. A plaque might be nice, but what to say on it? Perhaps some wise statement from The Iceman or from the little Greek man, something about living every day to the fullest. He loosened his scarf and slipped his gloves in his coat pocket, breathing in and out slowly, trying to embrace the cold as he walked towards the subway entrance. He took a few more deep breaths. A few turned into thirty. How could he stop? He let all the air out on the thirtieth breath, looked at his watch, and held it waiting for the subway door to open. Two minutes. He sucked in a deep breath. After counting to thirty he gave a heavy release as he grabbed the pole. He could continue but stopped. Could he do this on the subway? Would people think him mad? He looked at the passengers. No madder than the rest of the city.
* * *
“Good morning, Doris,” he said with a smile.
She smiled back at him. “Good morning, Dr. Gray.” Smiling at each other had become their new routine, although he sensed Doris thought it wouldn’t last, as each facial bit of cheer showed a slight suspicion near the end of saying his name.
“Doris, I’ve been thinking of changing my schedule. Mixing it up a bit. Don’t worry; it wouldn’t affect your salary. I thought of not seeing patients for half a day on one day of the week. I haven’t decided which day. I thought Wednesday or Friday might be good. You think it over and tell me which day you might think would work best. After all, you are the office manager. I thought I might use the time to read up on new methods. I would probably still need you in the office for some of the time, but not all of it. What do you think.” Not giving her a chance to answer, he added, “Of course, Lydia wouldn’t need to be here; if I’m not seeing patients, I wouldn’t be in need of a nurse. Well, mull it over and let me know.”
He headed for his office and made an abrupt turn. “Oh, what would you think of expanding, adding another doctor and nurse?”
She stood there, mouth agape. Before she could make any comment, he turned again towards his office. He turned abruptly once more and said while walking backwards down the hallway, “Just think it over with the other idea. With another doctor and nurse, we could take a whole day off.”
Doris’s eyebrows rose, and she gave Lydia, who just walked in, a look of incredulity.
* * *
At his desk, John Googled more about The Iceman as well as numerous other alternatives. One thing led to another. Sound frequencies, something to consider. He downloaded some freebies, enough to pipe through his office’s sound system as an experiment. Aromatherapy — why not use some lavender in the office, nothing overpowering, as Allison suggested? Either his office would become empty of patients as they walked out completely healed or word of mouth might open up a new realm of patients. Perhaps some beads instead of the door that led back into the examination rooms. He laughed. That would be going too far. Everything needed to be of a subliminal nature.
He happened upon earthing. This was nothing he could practice in his office, unless he put sand boxes in the waiting room, something for patients to relax their feet in while they waited. Who knows? Maybe if all this other stuff worked, he would consider it. Earthing made sense. Slaves had gone barefoot a good deal of the time. They were connected to the earth, and many of them, although they had lived hard, torturous lives, lived to be quite old.
There was a plentitude of information. Edgar Cayce was called the seeing prophet. There were the yogis, some of whom lived both long and extraordinary lives. This all fascinated him. He wanted to compile the knowledge. At the same time, he didn’t want to be shunned by his own peers, a dread that kept creeping into his psyche. But he had definitely experienced something life changing, and he couldn’t let it pass. He couldn’t go back to what was. His marriage was looking up as well.
Maybe he was just going through a phase, a mid-life thing. Doris had been eyeing him all week as if a body snatcher was in possession of his body. While suspicious, she liked the alien presence better and wouldn’t be calling the authorities anytime soon. Had he really been such a prick?
He peeped out of his doorway. “I’ll be in my office ladies, if you need me. Lydia, why don’t you bring in my first patient’s file in about ten minutes.” He heard subdued whispers as he closed the door before returning to his desk.
Chapter 28
Allison and Her Mom, Geraldine
* * *
“MORE TEA, MOM?”
“Just half a cup. I’m watching my caffeine intake.”
“It’s green. Minimal caffeine. And Molly and Little John behaved while we were away?” Allison asked while pouring the tea.
“Of course, why wouldn’t they?” Her mom raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“Well, Molly can be a handful sometimes.” Allison turned her head to peek through the doorway to see Molly mesmerized by the beads they had brought back from New Orleans. She was arranging them around the necks of her dolls. “I appreciate you bringing them back today.”
“They were no problem for me, and it was no problem bringing them back home. I knew you had plenty to do, with unpacking and all. And the renovations. How are the renovations coming?”
“Still working on the bathroom.”
“Hmm. You’ve been at that for a while. Well, I’m just glad you two got away, took a real vacation.”
“It was marvelous.”
“Your father and I say we’re going to do something, but I don’t know. We just never seem to get around to it.”
“New Orleans was great. Maybe you should go there.”
“Actually, we’ve been thinking of Washington D.C., taking in all the Smithsonian museums, especially the Holocaust Museum. Your father’s newest thing has been genealogy.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Well, if you would come to visit once in a while, you might.”
“Yes, Mom, I will try to do better,” Allison said, noticing the slight sarcasm in her own voice when she said it. She studied her mom’s face. She noticed wrinkles, new ones. Or was it her imagination? She had never really looked before. She took a deep breath as silently as possible, resolving to herself to meet her mom halfway.
“Yes, he has become obsessed. He found a distant cousin the other day, living in California. We might even go out there, instead of to Washington D.C., or maybe we will find time for both.”
“You two should travel. You deserve it. I mean Dad’s been retired now for three years, and you’ve basically stayed at home,” Allison said.
“Well, we stayed home thinking you might bring the children by more often, but God forbid.” Allison took another breath repeating the mantra, halfway, halfway, adding optimism into the silent mix.
“Now all he wants to do is stay home since he discovered this ancestry site,” her mom continued. “He practically lives on that computer. Couldn’t even get him to leave long enough to come with me today to bring the children back. I just had to get out. The only time I see him is when he gets hungry. He’s obsessed. I tell you, obsessed. So anytime you want us to keep the children. Well, they’re great company for me.”
“We just brought them by, remember,” Allison said, while twisting her napkin into a knot under the table. “For a whole week.” She caught herself. “We will bring them by more. I promise.”
“Oh, well, that would be nice,” her mom said.
“Another scone, Mom?”
“Don’t mind if I do. You’re not eating one are you? Allison, you really should be watching your weight.”
“So Mom, how about Mark getting ready to go off to The Netherlands and Poland?” Bringing up Mark always turned the tables when she was feeling undue criticism. She was nowhere near fat. Why would her mom even say that? Things like that just rolled off her tongue. She didn’t think. How many times had her mom commented on Dad’s weight? Really? The man’s pant size was thirty-four. But Mom always reminded him it had been thirty-two when they had first married. He knew how to shrug her
off. Why had she never learned?
“Well, I just hope he doesn’t start up his drug habit again or visit that red-light district. Oh.” Her mom placed her hand over her mouth and looked through the doorway at Molly and Little John, both still fascinated with the beads. “I probably shouldn’t have said that around the children,” she said, lowering her voice.
“I don’t think they heard you. Besides, they’re transfixed by all the little trinkets we brought them back from New Orleans. And, that drug habit, I hardly think sniffing coke maybe one or two times could be called a habit.”
“Allison, what exactly do those beads mean? They’re not associated with any voodoo curses are they? I don’t think you should have them in the house.”
“No, Mom, they’re not. They’re perfectly harmless, just something they pass out to tourists.” She didn’t dare tell her how people usually acquired them. Nor did she tell her mother that John had dared her to expose her breasts to the man throwing them out and that she did. That had been after three beers and getting down with the jazz musicians on Bourbon Street. “Actually, we bought them at a toy shop.” She crossed her fingers beneath her gnarled napkin, which was almost in shreds at this point.
“Well, back to Mark. What do you make of this?”
“I think it’s going to be a very good thing for him. John certainly thinks so.”
“Well, of course, if John thinks it will do him good. God knows that boy needs something to occupy him. Especially after that nasty drug business and having to ship him off to Virginia. On our way to Washington, we might just take a side trip, look up the Goldsteins, and thank them.”
“Yes, Mom, that might be a good idea, if they’re still alive. That was over ten years ago, and they were old then, weren’t they?” Allison tried to stifle a sigh and also pulling out her hair. She looked over at the clock.
“Of course they’re alive. We get a Hanukah card from them every year. Do you have somewhere you need to be, Allison?”
“No, just tired after the trip.”
“You should rest.”
“Yes, I think I will,” Allison said, faking a yawn.
“So, you didn’t tell me much about New Orleans. What all did you do down there?”
“We drank hot chocolate.”
“Oh my, you went all the way to New Orleans to drink hot chocolate. We have some of the finest chocolatiers here in New York, and you went all the way there just to drink hot chocolate.”
“No, of course not. It’s just that this hotel we stayed in served hot chocolate and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every night at ten in the lobby. It was fantastic. John loved it.” She wanted to say, It’s just what John needed. He had been craving hot chocolate ever since that fateful night out in the cold, the night that had changed their lives forever, the night that had compelled him to make reservations for New Orleans where they found hot chocolate, some magic elixir that had turned him into a Playboy stud. Oh, and by the way, Mom, I think I might be pregnant again. I just feel it. We had a similar night of wild inhibition when Little John was conceived. In fact, first thing tomorrow, I’m running out to buy some pregnancy strips. Maybe I’m not, but just in case. Instead, she kept her mouth shut.
“Oh, well, if John loved it.”
Allison muffled another sigh. Sometimes it infuriated her that anything John did was fine and dandy, but then sometimes she used it to tilt the conversation in her favor, as she knew that saying that something was John’s idea scored high in the approval area with her mom.
“That was just one of the things we did,” Allison added.
Her mom seemingly bored with Allison’s adventures in New Orleans, put down her teacup, and pushed aside the crumbs from her scone that had landed on the table, putting them back onto her plate. She let out a heavy sigh before breaking the awkward moment of silence between them. “As I was saying, we might go to California, to look up this long-lost cousin.” She took a sip of tea and another bite of scone, wiping the new crumbs to the corner of her plate along with the others.
“Lives on Venice Beach. He’s in the movie business. He said he would escort us on some private tours of some movie studios. Possibly introduce us to Larry David,” she continued.
“That’s great, Mom. How about Jerry Seinfeld?” Allison tried to hold back a smile.
“Well, I don’t know. He didn’t mention him. Did I tell you some of our relatives died at Auschwitz?” she continued.
“No, Mom, really? I didn’t know we had relatives that went to the gas chambers.”
“Sadly, we did. Your father has been doing all of this genealogy work you know.”
“Yes, you told me.”
“Found a relative living in Amsterdam. So we asked Mark to look him up. He’s old, has no one left. He brought a family into his house who care for him. His wife died quite a while ago I understand. They had no children. No one to leave the house to. So, the family who stays there and takes care of him will get it when he dies. A good arrangement for all of them. He had a twin sister. She died in the camps. So sad. So sad. He has pictures, letters, and some other family memorabilia. That’s why Mark is going to Amsterdam first. Did you know that?”
“No, not that. I thought he was going to Amsterdam as part of the course. I believe that is where the instructor is from.”
“Maybe so, but the workshop, as I understand it, is in Poland. No, he’s stopping by Amsterdam to meet Ben. He’s ninety-seven. Time is of the essence. Still rides a bicycle though.”
“Wow! At ninety-seven? How do you know all of this?”
“Your dad’s been corresponding with him. Even talked on the phone — twice. When he told him our son would be going to Poland, he insisted that he stop off in Amsterdam first. We could hardly turn him down. Mark said yes, a little too easily, if you ask me. I hope he doesn’t get side-tracked by that red-light district or those coffee shops.”
“I’m sure he won’t. This workshop is all about health, and it’s really important to him.”
“Well, Allison, you look so tired. You must get some rest.” She hesitated, and then added, “I’d better be going.”
“Okay, Mom. I think you’re right.” She got up from her chair, stretching her arms over her head, mimicking another yawn, lest her mom keep rattling on. No, not rattling on so much. The part about their ancestry and about Ben was interesting.
“Thank you so much for keeping the kids,” she said giving her mom a hug. She headed for the coat rack in the hallway, keeping in the momentum of saying goodbyes, peeking through the doorway into the living room. “Kids, your grandma is leaving. Come kiss her bye. Thanks again, Mom. John and I so appreciate it.” She kissed her on the cheek as she opened the door.
Allison watched through the peephole as her mother walked towards her car. When she was safely away, she turned her back towards the door and rubbed her temples with her fingertips while letting out a shriek that could only be described as something primal. Molly looked at her mother as if she completely understood all the implications of what she was going through, having just spent a week with Grandma. Molly, with a furrowed brow, was gazing at her. Allison studied Molly’s young, innocent face with all its pudgy, pink flesh. Innocent, except for her quizzical and at the same time, knowing look. Would Molly react this same way behind her back one day?
“Mom is going to do better with Grandma. Really, I am. I promise.”
Little John went back to stacking the beads in pile, sorting them by the various colors.
Chapter 29
Mark and Marina
* * *
MARK SPOTTED MARINA right away: tall, lanky, soft features, minimal make-up if any, vibrating a healthy glow not found too often in the city of New York. She stood in the main gallery of Amsterdam Grand Centraal holding a small poster, Welkom Mark, written with an orange marker. There was no need. He recognized her from the picture she had emailed. She was doing a paper on New York for one of her university classes. It was a stroke of luck that she offered
to show him around when he made reservations at The Dancing Bear, her parents’ hostel, in exchange for an insider’s view of The Big Apple. With his guitar case slung across one shoulder and knapsack on the other, he reached his hand towards her but instead was greeted by a kiss, one on each cheek.
“How was your trip?” she asked.
“Good, no problems. Jet lag may set in later, but for now, I’m pumped.”
“Ah,” she said.
Everyone came to a halt as a man began playing a piano in the middle of the station. One by one, a chorus of voices joined in All of Me, a John Legend song.
“Flash mob,” Marina whispered in his ear. “They are popular here.”
A round of applause ensued as the song ended. “A great welcome and in English,” Mark said, as everyone moved from their spots, taking care of business once again.
“Ah, yes, you will have no problems with English here.” They walked toward the doors leading out to the city. “It is not far. We will walk.”
“No problem. I walk all the time in New York.”
“Good, you can take in the sites along the way. The hostel isn’t far.”
The fresh air of a new city, a new experience, greeted him as he came out onto the paved walkway to a wet labyrinth, a vast array of blue veined gullies in every direction, along with a maze of bicycles, mostly black, baskets in the front, totally utilitarian, a bell on the front, standard issue.
“So, are you ready for your ice swim?” she asked.
“I guess as ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied.
“I have never heard of him, this Iceman,” Marina said. “But I Googled him. He is quite famous in our country. Everyone skates on the canals in the winter when they freeze. I’ve never seen anyone swim in them in the winter. Sometimes people do in the warm weather although it’s at your own risk. The city officials do not recommend it. Lots of stuff goes on in the canals. Hardly a week goes by that people don’t push cars in them.”
