Destined

by Gail Cleare

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  Tony and I had invited Mom, plus Marika and his parents, to come for Christmas. My brother and sister sent their love, but would spend the holiday together with all their kids in the Mid-West this year. I was excited about hosting the holiday here. We had two good-sized guest rooms that shared a bath, where Mom and Tony’s sister could stay, and we could put his parents up at the comfortable hotel on Main Street, a beautiful historic place only a few blocks away.

  Tony’s parents had never been to New England before. They were flying into Boston and staying there for a few days first, then driving their rental car out to see us. We hadn’t said anything to our relatives yet about the idea of getting married. We barely had talked about it ourselves. For now, I was concentrating on getting relocated and readjusted.

  It was very different, living with another person all of the time. As I put my things away in the spacious master bathroom, where two sinks and two medicine cabinets gave each of us our own space, I looked at our two toothbrushes sitting together in a single cup in the middle of the counter, where they had been since that first weekend we spent together. They leaned together intimately. That cup was a tiny realm where his territory and my territory overlapped.

  This was how I wanted to feel about the whole house, but it still didn’t really seem like mine. Integrating my furniture with Tony’s helped, but I didn’t have much to bring to the situation. I wanted to buy some things and furnish the rest of the upstairs, which had not yet been set up. I could make my mark on the house there. But I wasn’t really sure how the money was going to work, either. This was all new to me, and I felt funny about asking Tony about it. He automatically paid for everything whenever we were together, and never appeared to consider this an issue. But I wanted to pay rent, or buy the groceries, or something. I was used to supporting myself, and I had taken some pride in being able to do so. There were a few unresolved issues, like this, hanging between us at that point, but we were gradually sorting things out.

  Henry was enjoying his new domestic arrangement, too. He started working on a stamp collection with Siri’s son, Thomas. They steamed the stamps off Henry’s global correspondence by using the electric teakettle in the study. Henry could keep “the lad,” as he called Thomas, busy for hours while they looked at the stamps and talked about the faraway lands from which they came. They had formed a strong friendship. And I saw the way Siri’s attitude toward Henry subtly changed, as she took over more and more responsibility for his care and feeding. He gazed at her appreciatively, like the goddess she was, and she treated him with gentle, supportive attention. Henry and Tom worked on the building together most weekends, fixing up the kitchen upstairs and putting in a new stall shower in the Rodgers family’s bathroom. Tom did most of the actual work, but Henry printed out instructions off the Internet and supervised.

  Things rolled along smoothly that fall, for all of us except Mei. The trouble with her parents had escalated, and when she moved out of their building she ended up getting her own place, rather than moving in with Rocco.

  “We decided to get officially engaged first, “ she told me. “Living separately is more proper, and we’re hoping our families will have a chance to get used to the whole idea of us as a couple.”

  “That makes sense,” I said, “I’m sure they’ll come around.”

  It was still early days, but the plan seemed like it might be working. Rocco hired the private dining room at the Green Thumb for a family dinner on neutral ground, inviting both sets of parents and all available siblings. Everyone except Mr. Sun showed up. But his wife did appear and was quite friendly to the Sorrentinos. Mei thought that all in all, things had gone well.

  She laughed and said, “Buddha says, what is real is what you think. I think there is nothing to worry about, if we let everyone else get used to this for a little while longer. My father loves me! He’ll change his mind.”

  Gupta and Amy studied hard nearly every day, and she planned to take the GED test in the spring. She was already looking at art schools for next fall, proceeding confidently with her plan to graduate early. She designed some new Winter Wonderland window displays for the store, and all of our customers commented on them. Her mother, Wanda, was working at Mr. Sun’s restaurant and she and Amy had moved into the apartment upstairs in that building. Things had stabilized in Amy’s life, and she seemed happier. Her clothing and hair color blossomed with creativity, as she sported lots of tie-die instead of black, and her hair was streaked with hot pink.

  One day Amy showed up at the back door with a teenaged boy. She introduced him as Ralph. He was dressed all in black, with chopped hair and multiple piercings similar to hers. She told us Ralph was interested in old books and wanted to meet Henry. She took Ralph upstairs and the two were gone for an hour or so. When they finally departed, I went up to find out what had happened. I thought perhaps the boy had wanted to see the occult books, possibly something on Satanism, or exorcism instructions.

  “Not at all,” said Henry. “He was looking for old poetry books, Coleridge, Wordsworth, etcetera. He actually bought an edition of Romeo and Juliet!”

  I remarked that appearances could be deceiving, and Henry gave me a pitying look. Sometimes I got the feeling he still regarded me as a neophyte, though I felt I was coming along nicely. I guessed there were still a few things I had left to learn.

  We had Thanksgiving at Henry’s house, lining up three long tables to seat everyone. When we all joined hands to bless the food, a thrilling tingle went through me and I felt a strong connection with them all, my community, my every-day family. I looked around me and saw white, golden, tan, brown and black skin. I saw blonde, red, brown, white, gray and black hair, curly and straight, long and short, coarse and wiry, and feathered in fine little wisps. I saw blue, green, hazel and brown eyes looking back at me. We were like a beautiful rainbow, and when we joined hands and sent our energy around the circle, we merged and became all colors, all races, all humanity. We prayed together for the planet Earth, thankful for our home and for each other’s love.

  By the time Mom and Tony’s family came for Christmas, I had settled in and started to think of his house as our house. Mom and I stuffed and roasted a goose, and Tony’s mother made the buche noel, a gorgeous chocolate cake that resembles a Yule log. Mom and Tony’s mother, Karina, got along famously. Tony’s parents were living at the house on Lake Como full time now, and they had seen various American movie stars visiting there, such as George Clooney. Mom, who never missed Inside Edition on TV and was an avid reader of People Magazine, was completely thrilled. Karina invited her to visit them in the summertime, when the spot was most popular. Mom was so excited she nearly dropped her eggnog!

  Tony’s father was dark and handsome, a very well preserved older version of his son. Marika looked like him too, while their mother was petite, blue-eyed and fair, now with silver hair. She and Marika both shared an elegant style, very European and sophisticated. Mom and I talked about it in the kitchen late one night. Even when they were just wearing jeans and pullovers, they looked like they had just stepped out of an avant garde fashion magazine. We felt a little dowdy around them. Mom and I looked more like that country cousin in the Tarot deck, and when my jeans got holes in the knees it was just shabby, not shabby-chic. But they were both lovely women, and we liked them very much. Tony’s dad spent most of his time with his son and Henry, so we didn’t have much chance to get to know him better. His name was Adrian, and he seemed kind of restrained, more formal than the women of the family.

  On Christmas Day, Tony gave me an engagement ring. I didn’t know about it ahead of time, but I wasn’t really surprised either. He’d been humming around the house lately with a mischievous look in his eye, so I knew something was up. He had it in his bathrobe pocket when he brought me coffee in bed that morning.

  “Good morning, Emily, Happy Holidays!” He kissed me, put the hot coffee mug into my hand and immediately let it go, which very effectively
awakened me.

  “Happy Holidays?” I said groggily, grabbing the mug to stop it from spilling, and sitting up in bed.

  “Well, I don’t want to offend you in case you are not a Christian, do I?” He got into bed next to me and leaned against the pillows, enigmatically watching me sip my coffee, which was excellent and brisk. I started to rise into full consciousness. It was a bright, sunny morning and the bedroom was filled with light. My beloved was smiling at me, waiting to be teased.

  “And what religion do you think I am? Do you think I’m Jewish? Do you think I’m a Zen Buddhist? How about a Wiccan?” I challenged him, as the caffeine started to kick in. He grinned and rolled his eyes, enjoying getting a rise out of me.

  “I think you might be a Druid at heart, darling, or some variety of nature worshipper,” he said, reaching over to very gently and carefully pull the strap of my nightgown back up onto my shoulder. I hadn’t realized it had fallen off. No wonder he had been staring at me, with that Cheshire-cat smile.

  “Well, that’s different,” I said, smiling back at him. “You’re usually taking my clothes off! Are you feeling OK today, baby?”

  “I just want you to be properly dressed for the occasion,” he said.

  “Ho ho ho, for the occasion of…what, my love? Do I get my Happy Holidays present now?” I said, putting my empty mug down on the bedside table so that I could pounce on him. I laid him flat in seconds, easily overpowering him by lying on top of him, and kissing him repeatedly. “So, what is it, let’s see?” I demanded, and he raised his hand and put the little red velvet box on his chest right in front of my face. That’s when I knew for sure what it was.

  This was originally his grandmother’s diamond, he told me, and he had it put into a setting designed by our favorite local jeweler. The sparkling stone was at the center of a golden spiral, set into a wide platinum band. Inside the ring was engraving that said: “AB ~ ER Carpe Diem.” I cried a little when I read it. The ring fit me perfectly, and I was absolutely crazy about it.

  “So, I suppose this means if I want to keep the jewelry,” I said, admiring my left hand, “I have to keep you too?”

  “You could look at it that way,” he said thoughtfully, then he flashed me a smile. “But you’re stuck with me even if you’d rather have something else. Do you really like it?”

  “It’s perfect, “ I said, “It’s us! I love it.” Then I kissed him most earnestly, and made an inspired effort to impress him with my sincere enthusiasm for the next half an hour, or so.

  At breakfast in the kitchen with the family, we popped open some Veuve Cliquot and celebrated with everyone, toasting the future. Mom and I got a little maudlin about Daddy’s not being there, but we swore he was looking down on us with approval from the astral plane, or Heaven, or wherever he was. Then Mom called my sister on the phone and we all three squealed and screamed at each other in excitement. Tony and his father chose that moment to escape to the backyard for a quick stroll, looking at us with a slightly bewildered air.

  “Antonin, are they upset?” Tony’s dad asked him on their way outside.

  “No, I think they’re happy,” Tony replied uncertainly.

  “Oh!” Adrian said, obviously mystified.

  “You know women, Father, they always cry when they’re happy!”

  “Yes, I suppose so. Thank god I’m not a woman.”

  “I thank god for that too, sweetheart, every day of my life!” called his wife from across the room, and everyone laughed.

  For the next few days, the two men snuck off while the women got together and started to plan the wedding, which was tentatively scheduled for next fall. Mom and Karina went to work making lists of things to do. Both mothers-in-law-to-be obviously felt it was high time that Tony and I had decided to settle down. They conspired happily, while Marika and I enjoyed long walks through town, checking out all the shops, and she took lots of pictures, including one of Tony and me on the front steps of our house that still hangs on the wall at the head of the stairs today.

  In the picture, he is sitting behind me one step up, with me sitting between his knees and his arms sheltering me, protecting me. I am looking at the camera with a smile that looks happy, but very slightly annoyed, and he is peering around me looking wary. It’s a classic shot of us.

  * * *

  In the dark mid-winter, when New England normally freezes solid under several feet of snow, we had a freak warm spell and I personally saw the mercury hit seventy degrees one sunny afternoon in January. People went to the grocery store in shorts. Lots of shoppers who came into the store loved it, and said, “Isn’t this weather great? We don’t even have to go to Florida this year!” But other citizens were concerned. The polar ice caps were melting even faster than scientists had anticipated, it said on Al Gore’s web site. I filled out an email letter to Congress, asking them to take action on the climate crisis immediately, and sent it in at Al’s site. He said he was planning to bring all the letters to Congress when he testified, to show how many voters considered this a top priority. I definitely did, and I nagged all my friends and family to make them step up to the keyboard and send a letter, too. I got an email back that started, “Dear Emily,” and was signed, “Al Gore.” I knew it was a form letter, but it looked so personal, and I was completely thrilled, in a funny way. It made me feel powerful! I knew somebody now, my buddy Al.

  One day toward the end of January, Laurie came running over to the store in the late afternoon, saying we needed to turn on the TV in the sitting room. Nobody was in the store at the moment anyhow, so Bella and Siri and I went in there with her. The others sat down while I hovered in the doorway, keeping watch in case a customer appeared and needed help.

  Laurie wanted us to watch Oprah. She said we had to see it. The guests today were teachers of something called “The Secret,” which I had never heard of before. It was out both as a movie on DVD, and in book form, and these people were doing public speaking engagements all over the world to spread the word. It was a runaway, worldwide, self-help smash hit. Oprah Winfrey introduced the show by saying that in one day, six different people suddenly walked up and asked her if she had heard of it.

  When Oprah first came on the air and the cameras showed a head shot of her, Bella started to complain.

  “My god,” she said, “What is she doing to us? That woman looks way too good today!”

  “She does look great with her hair that way, it’s so romantic,” said Siri.

  We all squinted at the screen, examining Oprah thoroughly.

  “She looks beautiful in that outfit,” I observed.

  “Yeah, but she looks too good, I mean, we can’t do that, we can’t look that good!” Bella exploded, jumping up. “How are real women like us supposed to pull that off? And what is she saying to us, what’s the message? That we’re slouches if we can’t look that good, too?”

  “Calm down,” said Laurie. “She’s a TV star, that’s all.”

  “I know,” Bella sniffed unhappily, sitting down again. “I totally LOVE Oprah, I mean, I really do.” She looked closer at the screen. “What the hell is that?” she asked, jumping up again and pointing to Oprah’s eye.

  “What?” Siri said.

  “What’s that big fat black thing there, on her eye? It looks like a caterpillar!” Bella said suspiciously. “Oprah, what you got on your eye, my girl?”

  “I think that’s her false eyelashes!” Siri said, amazed, and we all giggled uncontrollably. Then the show started and we were all completely swept away by the power of what was happening on Oprah’s stage.

  It was all about positive thinking, and the power of visualization. The big “secret” was the fact that, just like Tony had been teaching me, you could make things happen by thinking about them, by imagining them to have already happened. They were calling it the “Law of Attraction.”

  I was very excited that something this positive could be so successful with mainstream America. Of course, somebody was also making a lot of money off
it, the marketers who had packaged the concept in such an attractive, mysterious way. But that didn’t change the fact that people were willing to sit down and listen to this idea, which gave them hope and taught them to be bold and try to change the world. At the first commercial, I used the remote to turn down the sound and told everyone this, saying that Tony had an old book called The Power of Positive Thinking by Norman Vincent Peale that outlined the same basic concepts. Laurie mentioned that it also sounded a lot like the principles behind the kind of magic that was used by witches like Starhawk.

  When the show was over, Laurie asked us what we thought.

  “I think Oprah knows better than any of the rest of them how this secret works,” said Bella. “My girl always walks on the sunny side, you know what I mean?”

  “Yes, she is a good example for us all in that way,” said Siri.

  “Even if she looks just a little bit too good, sometimes,” Bella compromised.

  “You’ll forgive her for that?” I asked.

  “Yeah, “ said Bella, “I guess she’s gotta keep up with all the sexy actresses who come on her show. She doesn’t want her boyfriend to start sniffing around Jennifer Lopez or anybody, right? I mean, Oprah is beautiful, but she’s not a red-hot Latina!”

  “Bella, who says a red-hot Latina is any hotter than a red-hot African American?” I demanded.

  “The red-hot Latina’s husband had better say that, for one thing,” she grinned, striking a sexy pose.

  “Well, that’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it?” said Laurie. “What your partner thinks of as sexy?”

  “Totally, true, yes,” we all agreed, nodding our heads.

  “Rolo doesn’t even like for me to wear makeup,” said Bella coyly. “He likes me straight from the shower, with nothing on at all!”

  “Most men say they don’t like makeup, but when it’s done well, they certainly respond to it,” Laurie observed.

  “I guess it makes a difference whether you’re expecting to be seen close up, or from far away,” I mused, remembering stage makeup from my drama club days. “Maybe Oprah wears makeup for the camera, but not when she’s at home with her boyfriend.”