The Opening

by Ron Savarese

  For the last year she had been intrigued, almost obsessed, with the study of symbols, and patterns. I had seen some of them spread out on her table in an assortment of colored papers and ink. Sacred geometry, she called it. The symbols are thought by some to open a portal, she said. They are beings that can balance thoughts and emotions and bring clear seeing and deep understanding.

  She referred to them as beings. I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that. She told me these symbols had come to her in a dream years before. And then she had had a fateful meeting with a sage who explained their significance just before he died. She associated the symbols with holiness and inspiration. Grace.

  She’d been working with three symbols in a certain sequence. And there was a fourth, she said, the one she had been told could enable her to alter the future, and enable her to access the hidden powers of the universe, the one that would reveal the secret of immortality. She spoke of a new world of heightened awareness and the peak evolution of the human form. This was what she had been waiting for.

  She said I might have some information that would lead her to the fourth symbol. Was she talking about my dreams again? I thought we had moved past all of that stuff several years ago. But I was curious. I asked her several times to tell me about the three symbols, or better yet, show me. She didn’t think I was ready.

  On this particular day, though, she hinted that if we completed our lesson with time to spare before Mother came, she might show me the first symbol.

  Ava had long before determined that she would pass on the knowledge of the symbols to me. She decided this as we neared the end of our first year together. In one particular lesson, she placed a clear stone, a piece of jewelry that looked like a beetle, and a statue of St. Joseph in front of me, and asked me to make a story. I don’t remember the story I made, for I was only eight then. The story satisfied her.

  After that, she explained the meaning of the carved, wooden rose above the entry-way door.

  “It means that some things are special secrets between people,” she said. “From now on some of the things I’m going to show you will be our secret. You will remember that won’t you?”

  I nodded yes. I agreed to keep her teachings secret. Now, I was becoming a man, Ava said, and it was almost time.

  But sometimes her words confused me. I didn’t know what she meant when she talked about a new world, or heightened awareness, or peak evolution. I did notice she had become more peaceful and less rigid and strict since she started working with the symbols.

  She lit a candle. She placed it on a small table in the room with the glass roof, the room that let the sunlight in year-round, the room where flowers grew. I sat in a creaky wooden chair next to the table. Ava stood, closing the last of the books that were spread out before us.

  “You have progressed well, young man,” she said. “You’re coming into balance quite nicely.” She spun around, almost allowing herself to smile, almost allowing herself to feel happy.

  “Are you going to show me the symbols today?” I asked.

  Ava looked up through the glass in the ceiling. A grayish-white bird drifted above the trees. She squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand. “That’s unusual,” she said, “A seagull so far from the lake.”

  I looked up and saw the bird fluttering in the breeze.

  The bird dipped toward the glass roof of the greenhouse.

  “No, it’s not a gull, it’s a dove!” Ava exclaimed, “A white dove. That’s a good omen. Yes, I believe you are ready for the first symbol. It will bring good luck.”

  She saw the bird as a sign. She’d been looking for signs: something to convince her that it was time to let me in. But I had become unsure of her self-proclaimed alchemy and clairvoyance. Slowly, over the past year, I’d become skeptical of her tutoring.

  My nightmares and premonitions were a distant memory, gone away, thankfully, after the first few sessions Ava and I had together. Now, I was more interested in playing baseball and in girls.

  “Well” I said. “What about the first symbol? You said you would show me if we finished in time. Well?”

  Ava returned her attention to me. “I’ll give you a hint,” she said “Do you remember your dreams of the angel?”

  I turned away and trailed my finger across the table. “Yes.”

  Ava took a few steps toward me so she could look directly at my face. “Do you remember the dream when she showed you the image?”

  That seemed so long ago. It seemed to me that the dreams had happened in another lifetime, to someone else, not me. But when she asked me the question, the memories came rushing in, and I remembered the dream of the woman I used to refer to as an angel. I hadn’t thought about that since Ava and I first met. “Yes, I remember,” I said. “It was a circle, or a ring, with something in the center of it.”

  “Ah, you remember!” she said. She held up her finger. “Just a moment.”

  She walked into a darkened room. I followed her and stood just outside the doorway. She opened a drawer in a brown wooden chest and pulled out an ivory colored packet. She motioned to me: Come in.

  Ava opened the packet and pulled out a piece of thick, white paper. It was similar in size to a page from my sketch book. A stark black symbol dominated the white page: A bold black ring encircled a single black dot.

  She held the paper in her hands, thumbs on top and fingers underneath. She lifted the paper before her eyes for a moment then placed it on the table before me. “Pick it up. Look at it,” she said.

  I held the paper just as she had: thumbs on top, fingers underneath. I raised the paper to eye level, and gazed into it. I was drawn into its center, into its boldness, into its elegant design.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  How could I answer that question? I didn’t know what I saw. I didn’t know what I felt. “It looks like an eye,” I said, “An eye looking into my eyes.”

  Ava nodded. I saw her, but I didn’t want to shift my focus away from the symbol.

  “Do you see the light?” Ava asked.

  I wasn’t sure—then yes, I saw a shimmer of light around the edges of the ring.

  “Do you see the light,” Ava asked again.

  “Yes.”

  “Where is it?” she asked.

  “Around the circle,” I answered.

  Ava placed her hand on my shoulder. And as she spoke, she seemed to choose her words carefully, speaking also to something beyond me.

  “What does it mean?” I asked.

  “We don’t necessarily assign a meaning to it,” she said. “But when I look at this symbol I feel that the center represents my heart’s core—my true path. And I know if I listen and follow that path I will be protected. And that’s what the outer ring represents to me—God’s protection.

  “This is an ancient symbol,” she said. “Some believe it originated in Egypt, long ago. At some point, a Greek mathematician named Pythagoras discovered it. Later he discovered other symbols. He discovered the power they possessed when he meditated on them in a certain sequence. He realized the symbols could help him access insights and unique abilities. He passed the knowledge on to some of his students. It came to be considered dangerous knowledge during the Dark Ages and was hidden for centuries.”

  Ava took the symbol away from me.

  The image remained in the air in front of me…just like… just like it did with… the angel. It was the image from the dream. I tried to touch the image as it floated in the air, closed my eyes and saw it again, but when I opened my eyes it was gone.

  Ava stood still.

  In earlier lessons Ava had taught me how to meditate: first by just sitting quietly and focusing on my breath to quiet my mind. She taught me how to listen to my inner voice. Then she taught me how to use a mantra, a special sound, a combination of syllables, first aloud and then silently, in the stillness. She had spoken of special outward symbols, which she said could increase one’s vibration and create greater balance and harmony. Was t
his one of them?

  She gave me instructions. She taught me how to use the symbol to center myself. She told me about the power of the light around the edges. “It is pure,” she said.

  When we finished it was nearly dark outside. Something about Ava had changed. “Your mother will be waiting,” she said. “Be easy on yourself over the next few weeks. If you have the fire dream you must tell me.” She said it again. “You must tell me. It is very important for you to remember this. If you have any disturbing dreams, you must tell me. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  Ava slid the symbol into the ivory packet. She placed it between the pages of my sketch book. “Put it in your book bag for now,” she said. “When you get home, find a special place for it.”

  “Is this one of our secrets?” I asked.

  Ava smiled. “You’ve learned well,” she said.

  I stared at Ava then looked down at the table. “Okay,” I said.

  Ava looked back at me. She was quiet. Then she turned and walked to the door. “It’s getting late. Your mother will be waiting for you.”

  I followed Ava’s instructions. Or so I thought. I found a place for the symbol: in my bedroom closet, underneath the stacks of books and boxes of old clothes that hadn’t been touched in years, a place no one would think or care to look. I followed her instructions about how to use the symbol: how long and how often to look at it. And just as she said, I began to experience a greater sense of calm and confidence.

  During that first week, I moved through my days with ease. My family and friends commented on the change in me. You seem happier, they said, and more relaxed. They wanted to know what was going on. But I didn’t say anything about the symbol. I kept it to myself.

  At night, I dreamed vivid dreams: I dreamed of walking through fields of magnificent red and yellow and orange wild-flowers by the lake. I dreamed of floating with purple balloon-like orbs, mingling with the clouds. I dreamed of peaceful things—gentle waterfalls, fresh fallen snow early in the morning with no footprints. These dreams comforted me and filled my nights of restful sleep.

  If I felt like this after using just the first symbol, what would it be like to have the other two, I thought. I couldn’t wait to tell Ava that I was ready to see them, as soon as she was ready to show me. And although I remembered Ava’s warning about disturbing dreams, as time went by and I had none, I thought less frequently about what she had said to me.

  And then one night, like a bolt of lightning in a darkened sky, I dreamed of the fire again. Just like the dream I had when I was a child. And in my dream, orange flames and black smoke billowed into the dark night sky. In this dream, my house was destroyed with my family in it. I seemed to be watching from far away.

  Yet, strangely, I awakened in the early hours of the day feeling peaceful. For a while, I stared at the yellow moonlight seeping through the curtains of my window. Then I drifted back to sleep.

  In the morning, I thought that I should ride my bike to Ava’s house after school, and tell her about the dream. But my afternoons were filled with activities. I was on the football team, I was president of the math club, and sometimes Mother had chores for me. The days slipped by.

  Every evening I told myself that I would make time to get in touch with Ava the next day, but something else always seemed more pressing. After awhile, the dream and the promise I made to Ava became nothing more than a subtle tug on my sleeve that I eventually decided to disregard. And after all, I rationalized, the dream hadn’t upset me as it had when I was a child.

  But deep down, I knew I hadn’t followed Ava’s instructions.

  Albert’s sixteenth birthday came a few days later. Weeks before, I had told my mother that Albert would love it if Paul and I could spend the birthday night at Albert’s house. So Aunt Leah, Albert’s mother, invited Paul and me to spend the night over as part of the party.

  I was in the basement messing around with my father’s lantern when my mother opened the door to call down the stairs, “Joey! You better get over there now.”

  As I ran out the door, my mother cautioned me to stay away from the river. It was full and swift after the recent spring rains. I ran past a cleared lot where a hole for the foundation of a new home had been dug. I stopped and picked up a rock and threw it into the hole. Then I started running again. And on my way to Albert’s house that feeling of forgetfulness tugged at my sleeve again. Had I forgotten to do something?

  As Aunt Leah prepared the birthday dinner, the three of us headed to the field next to Albert’s house. At first, we only intended to throw the baseball around. But soon, Albert got bored.

  “Hey, let’s go to the river,” he said.

  I picked up the baseball from where Albert had dropped it into the grass. “Maybe we better not…”

  “Hey, come on, it’s my birthday!” Albert said.

  Paul idly kicked at some tufts of dirt. “Oh, come on, don’t be a sissy, Joe. It’s Albert’s birthday. Let’s go. Just for a little while,” he said.

  It was nearly dark by the time we returned from the river. We ran into Albert’s house hoping we weren’t in trouble, but Aunt Leah said, “Come on boys—you’re just in time.” And I lucked out. My folks didn’t get there until five minutes later. Mom didn’t find out I disobeyed about the river. And yet, the feeling was still there. What had I forgotten?

  The kids ate “Sloppy Joes” and potato chips and drank soda-pop. And as usual, the tables were groaning with my mom’s special lasagna; with green salads; with yellow Jell-O; celery and pineapple salad; and broccoli casserole. The other aunts brought the sweets: cupcakes, pumpkin pie, and cream puffs.

  The big moment came when it was time to blow out the candles. 16 of them were stuck into Albert’s all-time favorite: yellow cake with marshmallow frosting flecked with toasted coconut and finely grated orange rind, and a wobbly “Happy Birthday Albert!” written in skinny blue frosting. As he took a big breath, some of the uncles yelled, “Come on Albert, get ’em all!” And he did.

  That night the three of us horsed around in our makeshift sleep-out camp in Albert’s room until nearly midnight. Finally we fell asleep.

  In my dream, I heard the sirens and the crackling of the fire. The horrible red glow was all around me. Then Paul grabbed my arm, “Joe, wake up! Your house is on fire!”

  What!

  We ran down the street toward my house. I felt as if my legs were dragging through mud, as if I were running through chest deep water: This cannot be real, I thought.

  Black smoke and orange flames leapt high above the trees. When we got there, it was already over. It was already done.

  Where is my family? What happened to them?

  At the cemetery five coffins were lowered into the ground: one for my mother, one for my father, and one each for my three brothers. The sky was gray and drizzly as the final words were spoken by the priest. I looked up from the graves and saw Ava standing under a tree, on a shady bluff away from the crowd that had gathered to bid my family farewell. She wore a tan, hooded rain coat I had never seen before.

  As the crowd filtered out, drifting back toward the waiting cars, I told Paul to go on ahead—I’d follow him in a few minutes. I walked up the hill to Ava. Tears trickled down her face. She took two steps toward me, her hands held out. “Joe, I’m so sorry,” she said.

  I was so angry.

  “Sorry for what?” I asked. “The good luck you promised?”

  Her hands dropped to her side. “For your family—for you—if I can help…”

  “Help with what? More of your magic? More of the dreams you made me have again?”

  Her face was completely still.

  “Did you have the fire dream again?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you did. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I took a step closer. “And what if I did, would it have mattered? I thought there was nothing you could do about a message in a dream.”

  She seemed to have shrivele
d, to have shrunken in size even as we stood there.

  “I told you there was nothing I could do about my dreams, not yours,” she said, “I told you to tell me if you had any dreams that disturbed you. This didn’t have to happen.”

  “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe in anything you tell me. You’re nothing but an old witch. I wish my mother would have never brought me to meet you. Your symbols and signs are bullshit. The one you gave me is burned along with everything else I loved. Don’t do me any more favors, okay?”

  Ava pulled her raincoat tightly across her chest.

  “Don’t you see, Joe? You have special gifts. Don’t take the time we spent together lightly. You were about to have a breakthrough—if only we had more…” she shook her head. “Oh no, I didn’t mean that,” she reached toward me. “You can still…” She turned away from me then turned back. “Don’t give up on your destiny, Joe.”

  I couldn’t help it. I jumped back violently—away from her. “Destiny!” I screamed. “What makes you think anyone has a destiny? Was it my family’s destiny to die like this? And what makes you think you know my destiny? You, with your long lost symbols and strange visions, you think you can tell me what my destiny is? My destiny is my business. My destiny is my life, and it doesn’t have anything to do with you or your bullshit symbols and magic. I don’t believe in destiny.”

  Ava turned from me—then looked back over her shoulder.

  “That’s your choice,” she said.

  “I’m finished with you,” I told her. “I don’t want anything to do with you or your strange magic. You’re nothing but a witch. I never want to see you again. Do you hear me—never, ever again!”

  She stood and looked at me, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “I understand Joe, I understand. Our work together— maybe it was too much. Maybe you weren’t ready. But I can’t change what has already begun. I will see you again, Joe. One day. It’s our destiny.” She walked away, down the hill, as the drizzle became a full rain.