Iwalkedupthestairs.TheoldwoodcreakedandIterrifiedmyselfthinkingabouttheghost of old Dorothy waiting for me at the top of the stairs. As soon as I reached the corridor, I turnedthelightson.Iftheghostappeared,itwouldn’tcatchmeoffguardinthedark.Iopened allofthedoors.Twolargebedrooms,astudyandabathroom.Iwalkedintotheroomthathad clothesstrewnalloverthefloorandthebedunmade.Igatheredthatitwasmyroom.Complete
chaos, a disaster. The sheets didn’t smell like wild flowers like the sheets in my New York apartment.Theyweren’tmadeofasoftfabricthatwasdelicateandnicetotouch.ButIwas tired,sotired...somuchsothat,assoonasIlaydownandcoveredmyselfwiththeblanket,I closedmyeyesandsleepovercamemeentirely.Aslumberthatwouldclearsomeofthedoubts Ihadinthestrangesthoursofmylife.
BONNIE’SCURSE
StuartaccompaniedBonniebacktoherhome.Enchantedbythesensuallookinthewoman’s largeBrowneyes,hewaitedonherdoorstepforBonnietogivehimsomesortofunmistakable signal for him to make the next move. As he moved in to give her a kiss on the cheek, they foreheadshiteachotherclumsilyand,onlyamillimeterawayfromeachother,theymovedin tomelttogetherinapassionatekissof...goodbye?
“Doyouwanttocomein?”Bonnieaskedhim,sureofherself.Stuartnodded,holdingher softlybythewaistanddraggingBonnie’slittlebodyovertothesofa.
“Wow, if that lamp falls on us, thousands of crystals will be incrusted into our heads.”
Stuartsaid,lookingupatthelargecrystallampabovethem.Bonnielookedathim,confused.
“Sorry,Ishouldn’tsayanything...”
StuartshookhisheadathisinadequatewordsandBonniecontinuedtoKisshim.Withfury, anxietyandpassion.TheyendedupmakingloveonBonnie’slargebed,untilStuartfinallyfell asleep.Bonniestareddownattheperfectnakedtorsoofthemanwhohadbeenoneofthebest modelsofthenineties.Sheadmiredhisangelicalfaceand,stillnaked,shemadeherwaytothe bathroom.Shelookedatherselfinthemirrorandsmiledslylytoherselfand,withoutexpecting it, her face disappeared and gave way to that of her dead mother. Her face was just as she remembereditbeforeshehaddied.Hersamelargeeyes,hersamenose,neglectedandvery unattractiveteeththathadturnedthewitchintoaverymiserableperson.
“Well,well...thepupilsurpassesthemaster.Imustcongratulateyou,Bonnie.”
“Mom...”
“Whatthehellhaveyoudone?”Elisabethaskedfuriously.
“You’re...you’renotproudofme?”
“Why? For having taken a dethroned model to bed? For having ruined your bosses life?
No,mydear.Iamnotproudofyou.Iamdisgustedwithyou,Ialwayshavebeen.”
“I no longer care what you think.” Bonnie said, finding the necessary strength to face the painful moment in which her words caught in her throat and the only thing she wanted to do wascrylikealittlegirl,whenshehadtofacehermother’sharshwords.
“You have separated a mother from her son, Bonnie. That is very wrong...” Elisabeth waggedherlongandcrookedfingerather,whereherblacknailpolishstoodout.
“You’regoingtotalktomeaboutwhatiswrong?”
“You’llseeitforyourselfwhenyoucometowhereIam.”
“Whereareyou?”Bonnieaskedinnocently.
“Inhell.”
The witch Elisabeth Larson disappeared among flames, leaving Bonnie looking at her reflectiononceagain.Nolongerwearingherslysmile,hereyeslookedscaredandwerefull oftears.Shecouldstillseethefirewithwhichhermotherhaddisappearedinthemirror.She could still feel the pain that, once again, Elisabeth’s words had caused her to feel. Always
makingherfeelinferior,feelingbadaboutherselfandashamedofwhoshewas.Fornotbeing whatshewantedhertobe...Butherlifehadchanged.Shelookedaroundher.Theluxuryshe had,themanwhowaslayinginherbedandshethoughtabouttheenvythatherdeadmother musthavebeenfeelingamongtheflamesofhellitself,fromwhereshehadcometovisither.
Thefollowingday,BonniewokeuptofindaredroseintheplacewhereStuart’sperfect body had been, and a note that said: “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen, princess.” Bonnie smiled,forgettingentirelythevisitfromherdeadmotherthroughthebathroomwindowhours before. Happily, she headed toward the large, modern kitchen, where Stuart was waiting for her with his magnificent smile. He had prepared an exquisite tray of fruit, pastries, orange juiceandmilkycoffeethatwasstillhot.
“Idon’tknowwhatyounormallyhaveforbreakfastso...here’sabitofeverything.”Stuart said,pointingatthetray,veryproudofhimself.
“Thankyou.”
“Bonnie,Iknowit’sstilltoosoonbut...Iloveyou.”
Bonniewalkedovertoherdethronedmodel,justashermotherhadcalledhim,andkissed him. She loved him too. Her life was going well. Very well. It was her moment and she intended on enjoying it, forgetting about Nora and the regret that she felt somewhere deep downinhersoulforhavingchangedherlifeand,especially,forhavingseparatedherfromher son.Thesonthatshehadneverhadonhernewlife,whosheneverhadwiththemanthatwas now her boyfriend. Her boyfriend Stuart... how good that sounded to her... she thought to herselfasshestaredathimsothatthespellshehadcastonhimwouldneverwearoff.
BonniesatdownonthekitchenstooltoeateachandeveryoneofthethingsthatStuarthad preparedforherwhilehewentintothebathroomtotakeashower.ThenStuart’smobilerang and Bonnie decided to answer it. The call only lasted a couple of seconds, given that the personwhocalledhungupassoonastheyheardBonnie’svoice.Shedecidednottopaytoo muchattentiontoitandinsteadfocusedonherperfectandidyllicnewlife.
DREAMS
Thefollowingday,Iwokeupwithahangover.ThiswasimpossibleconsideringthatIhadonly drunkastalepineapplejuice.Damn!Thepineapplejuice...mystomachwasscreamingatme for something to eat. Still in bed, I wanted to remember the dream I had dreamt. In it, there were flames and that employee who had pulled out two of my hairs, laughing. I had always thoughtthatdreamsclarifiedeverything.Theyareapartofoursubconsciousmindtoemerge when we need them most and all we have to do is make a little effort when we wake up to rememberthemandtakethecontentsintoaccount.Iwentdirectlytomystudyandturnedonthe computer.Stillhalf-asleep,IdidaquicksearchonGoogleonvoodooandwitchcraftandas soonasIquicklyreadsomeoftheinformationIcouldfind,Iknewthatthewomanhaddone somethingtome.Whatwashername?Whydidn’tIpaymoreattention?Ipickedupmyout-of-date cell phone from the bedside table, where I had left it the night before, right before I succumbed to dream world and I dialed Stuart’s number. But instead of him, a woman answered.Iimmediatelyhungup,thinkingthatismostprobablywasn’thisnumberinthisnew life.WhatcouldIdo?AllIwantedwastoseeMatt!Hadhetakenhislunchtoschool?Would Stuartknowhowtolookafterhim?Ishookmyhead,knowingthattheboywhohadcriedwhen hehadseenmeonthelandingofhishomebecausehedidn’tknowwhoIwas,hadnotcome fromme.Hedidn’thavemyblood,Ihadn’tcarriedhimforninemonthsinsideme.Itouched mystomachandsawthatInolongerhadthescarfromthecesareanthathadbeendonewhenI gave birth to Matt. In this new life, in this new world, I had never been a mother. I had two options, to return to New York and try to make sense of what had happened; or to stay in Kutztown and organize the life that I was forced to live for the time being. I saw myself in prison for harassing Stuart and m
y non-son; for trying to enter the company that no longer belongedtomeorforattackingthatgoddamnwitchwhohadpulledoutmyhairandhadputa curseonmeandplacingmeinthelifethatIhadneverchosenasifIweresomesortofpuppet.
That idea left my mind immediately. I would let the days go past... days that I could foresee wouldbehardanddifficultwithoutthepresenceofthesonthatIrememberedhaving,without myluxuriouslifefullofcommoditiesandabrilliantjobthatIhadstartedtohate.Iwouldeven missVirginiaandherostrichneck.ButIhadanewopportunitytobewithmymotherduringthe last months of her life... I started to cry again. Time, all I needed was time...then everything wouldfixitself.
IwalkeddowntothekitchennolongerfearingthatIwouldseetheoldwomanwhousedto liveinthehouse,thankstothebrightlightthatshonethroughthewindows.Abeautifuldayhad dawned in Kutztown. Although it was cold, it was sunny and joyful with a cloudless sky. I lookedoutofthewindowwithacupofcoffeeinmyhand.ItwassodifferenttoNewYork...
few, very few cars drove down the residential street; something that let me clearly hear the songs of the birds sitting on the branches of the bushy trees in each and every one of the
gardens around me. I walked out onto the porch in the clothes I had worn the day before. I neededashower.Therewasnodoubtaboutthat.
Mycarwasparkedoutsidemymother’shouse,andso,afteraniceandmuchneededshower,I decided to walk over there. But when I rang on the doorbell, there was no answer. The neighborinformedmethatshehadgoneforawalk,whichcalmedmedownsomewhat.Iwas terrifiedattheideaofsomethinghappeningtoheronherownandmeopeningthedoortofind myselfbeforetheterriblescenethatIwasn’treadyfor.Notyet.Resolute,Igotintomycarand drovetothefarmwhereFrank,busyfeedingthehorses,greetedmewithasmile.Quickly,and toavoidanyuncomfortableconversationsthathadanythingtodowithMarkandmeseeinghim theeveningbefore,IlockedmyselfinmystudiowheretheartworkthatIstilldidnotseeasmy own,waswaitingforme.Onceagain,andasifoutofhabit,Ilitupacigaretteandbeganto lookthroughtheordersthatIhadfromseveralartgalleries.IalmostfaintedatthestressIfelt.
IlookedoverthepaintingsandsawthatIstillhadtwomoretodo.Quickly,Iputonmypaint-covered overcoat that was hanging on a hanger and got to work while the forest outside my littlewindowservedmeasagreatinspiration.Itookadeepbreath...thatwasit...freshair.
EverythingIneeded.Myhandsworkedontheirown,mymindwasn’tcloudedbythousandsof worried that didn’t seem to have a place in those artistic moments... nothing was strange, everythingappearedtobeasitshouldhavebeen.AsifIhadbeendoingitmyentirelife.
Ah hour later, somebody knocked on the door. Despite the bother that caused me, given that,bythelooksofthings,IdidnotletpeopledistractmewhileIwasworkingononeofmy paintings,Ireplied.
“Comein,Frank!”Isaid,withoutlookingtoseewhoitwas.
Onestep.Twosteps.Itwasn’tFrank.
“Hello,Nora...”Markgreetedme.
It annoyed me to have to stop what I was doing to talk to him, something that he most probably saw on the expression on my face. Mark looked very elegant. Despite being in the small town, he was wearing a very expensive grey jacket and a pair of black pants that highlightedhismuscularlegs.Helookedatmewithalotofemotion,Icouldseeinhiseyes countlessmemoriesthathehadwithme.ButIdidn’t.AllIrememberedwasthatIhatedMark, thatIhadneverlikedhimandthatIhadcrossedthesidewalkonthefewoccasionsIhadseen himinNewYork.
“Whatdoyouwant?”Iaskeddrily.
“I’msorryI’veinterruptedyou...Wow!Youhavereallyimproved...”Hesaid,lookingat eachoneofthepaintings.“You’reasunorganizedaseverthough.”
“Me,unorganized?Sincewhen?Ilookedaroundme.Ihadcompletelyforgottenthechaos inmyworkshop,justlikethatinmybedroom,andintherestofmyhouse,thatneededabitof attentionandtime.
“I’llaskyouagain,whatdoyouwant?”
“Iwasn’texpectingyoutobesodistantwithmeafterallofthetextswesendeachother.”
“Ibet.Butthingshavechangedand,rightnow,Ican’tpayyoumuchattention.”
Markdidn’tanswer.Helookedatmewithhisdeepgreeneyesfrombehindhisglassesand pursedhislips.ThesamegestureIusedwhenIfeltuncomfortable.
“Thenovel...haveyoureadit?”
“Whatone?”
“ForgettingthatIforgotyou.” Atleastsomethinghadn’tchangedinthisnewworld!The stupidtitleofhisbook...
“No.”
“It’sdedicatedtoyou.Itspeaksaboutus.”Herepliedsadly,seeingmylackofinterest.
“That’sgreat.Butevenso,you’vecomewithCompany,haveyounot?”
“Patricia? She’s my editor, there’s nothing going on between us.” He replied, confused.
“Shewantedtocomewithmeandseethetown.”
“Sure.Andhowlongareyoustaying?”
“Indefinitely.” He replied, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. “Kutztown has alwaysinspiredmeandIwanttowritemynextnovelhere.”
“I’mgonnagiveyouanideaforyournexttitle.Leavemealone.”Isuggested,foramoment, turningbackintothecruelexecutivevicepresidentthatIhadbeeninmyotherlifefromwhich Ihadresignedtodisappearingfromforawhile.
“I understand. I won’t bother you any longer. I thought you would be happy to see me or that...” Mark didn’t continue as he saw that I turned my back to him to continue with my painting. The next thing I heard was footsteps and the sound of the door closing. Mark had gone.WhichwasexactlywhatIwanted...butinthatcase...whydidIfeelsosad?
I spent the rest of the day finishing the two pending orders that I had and experimenting withnewtracesandcolormixtures.ItwaslikeIhaddoneitmyentirelife...Ireceivedacall fromChristine,whoIfinallydiscoveredwasmyassistantand,bythewayshespoketome,she wasalsomyfriend.Ihadanassistant!Shewasgoingtodropbythatafternoontopickupmy paintingsandtakethemtothenearbygallerieswheretheyweregoingtobeexhibitedinafew days’ time. I also had pending orders for San Francisco and New York, where my paintings weregoingtobeexhibitedforseveralmonths.Shealsoremindedmethat,inaweek’stime, wehadtheinaugurationoftheEckhausGalleryinKutztownaswellasatLazyLeafPottery.
And that, two months later, we had to go to New York to visit the prestigious Agora gallery where I (in my other life) had been a customer who was in love with the works of many differentartistswhohadtheirworksthere.WewouldalsousethetriptoNewYorktoexhibita few of my paintings along with other artists in the Ceres Gallery, in West 27th in Chelsea. I couldn’tbelieveit.Foramoment,Iimaginedmypaintingsinnewspapers,magazines,publicity flyers...havingthesmallhopethatStuart,whoalsolovedart,wouldseethemandremember whoIwas.Hiswife!Themotherofhischild!ThenIrememberedthatmystomachdidn’thave thescarfromthecesarean...andallmyhopesleftmeagain.AndsoIdidthesamethingIhad donethedaybefore,Iwentoutsideandsatdowntocontemplatetheforestanditsorganized rowoftrees,asifIwereoneofthem.That,alongwithmypaintings,wastheonlythingthat offeredmeabitofpeace.Butnothingcouldbeperfectinthislife,andso,afterafewminutes
ofrelaxation,Ifeltahandonmyshoulderand,asIlookedup,Isawgoodold’Frankgreeting mewithasmile.
“What’swrong?”Iasked.
“Areyouokay?”
“Ofcourse.”
“Youlooktense.”Hebegantomassagemyshoulders.Ididn’tfeellikehavingFranktouch melikethat.
“No,I’mfine.”Isaid,movingawayquickly.
“IsawMark...helookedveryupset.”
“Hedeservesit.”
“Why?Itwasyouwhobrokeitoffwithhim,usingasanexcusethatitwasforthebest...so thathecouldgotoNewYorkandsucceedasawriterwithnoregrets.Andyouwereright,it hasbeenthebestthingforMarkonaprofessionallevelbut...youhavetoworkitoutbetween youtwo.Nowthatyouarebothshininginyourrespectivefields,youshouldgiveeachother anotherchance.”Hesaid,Ihadnoideawhathewastalkingabout.
“LikeJuliasaid,it’sbeentwelveyears.”
“Yes,it’salongtime,Nora.But...youhaven’tbeenwithanybodysincethen.Don’t...don’t youhaveneeds?”Icouldn’tbelievewhathewasaskingme.
“WhatdoyoumeanFrank?”
“Well,Idon’twannaberudebut...”
“Shutup!”Isaid,laughing.Thefactwas,ifinthislifeIhadgonetwelveyearswithoutsex thenIwasunbelievable...oranoddball.MybodystillrememberedthelasttimeIhadmade loveto Stuart, onlyfour days before.“And how are youwith Julia?” Iwanted to know. The questionseemedtoconfusehim.
The Road of Life Page 6
