Destined (16 page)

Description:
 
An elderly pilgrim or monk stands in an
isolated landscape, holding a staff and the shining lamp of knowledge.

Meaning:
 
Wisdom. A sage offers expert advice and
insight gained from a long period of contemplation and solitude. A lesson with
a master.

As the third week came and began to pass, with no further
sign of the elusive Mr. Novak, I sank into a mildly depressed state. I told
myself it came as much from boredom as anything. Setting up the store had been
a huge task, tons of work, and now that it was over I felt a lot less
productive.

Every night I went home alone and
spent the evenings watching TV or reading, with Tree curled up on my lap. I
called my mother and told her the whole story, touching base with her
comforting optimism and love. Once a week the girls and I were getting together
for what we now called “Ladies’ Night,” which was wonderful and so much fun,
but they all went home to their families afterwards and I felt abandoned.

I tried to re-immerse myself in work,
and started dreaming up a cooperative marketing campaign for the merchants in
the immediate area. The ad rep from our local paper was excited about it, and
offered to put together a special section for anything we might agree to do.
Laurel loved the idea, and helped me distribute a flyer to the stores on Market
Street, inviting the owners to attend an early morning meeting at the Green
Thumb to discuss the possibilities.

Siri was sensitive to my state of
mind, and kindly invited me to come home with her for dinner one night.

“It’s just pot luck, no big deal,” she
said, shrugging with her hands tipped out. “Just us, and a couple of friends.”

I modified my grandmother’s recipe for
chocolate cake and made two, one for the shop and one for Siri’s dinner party.
I used dark chocolate for the cakes and the frosting. In an inspired moment, I
toasted some sliced almonds in the oven, let them cool, and sprinkled them on
top of the cakes.

Siri left a little early that day to get
things ready at home. I had never been to visit her before, and was curious to
see her apartment. She lived in a large yellow brick three-story building that
housed twelve rental units, two blocks down Market Street on the same side as
our store. Isabella Reyes lived in the same building. They jokingly called it “The
Palace.”

“It’s basically a dump, OK?” laughed
Bella, when I asked her about it. “But it’s got a great feeling from all the
tenants, who are really pretty cool.”

“The building is in disrepair,” Siri
added seriously. “Our landlord is not very energetic. At least the rooms are
fairly large.”

Bella and her husband were both coming
to the dinner party, Siri told me. As were a couple of Tom’s friends. It
sounded like fun, and I was glad to be going out for a change. I closed the
shop at six and stopped in at Sorrentino’s for some vanilla ice cream, using a
cake carrier I’d borrowed from Laurie and a big tote bag to carry my offerings.

I re-crossed the road and headed down
the sidewalk past our corner. Next to us was a used clothing store, then a
sprawling antique store, then a little tiny building set back from the sidewalk
that was occupied by a seamstress who did custom-designed clothing and
alterations. She was next to a hairdresser, and then came the Asian-fusion
restaurant called Buddha, which smelled great. I had still not yet eaten there.
My mouth watered. I glanced in the front window and saw Mei and another pretty
Asian girl (her sister?) waiting on tables.

In the next block, I passed an optician,
a professional building filled with lawyers’ and accountants’ offices, a shoe
store, and a small jewelry store. Then I started closing in on my goal. I could
see the big yellow brick face of it looming at the end of the block.

Two teenaged boys stood talking on the
sidewalk outside the front door, one of them with a bike. A woman with a baby
in a stroller sat in a folding lawn chair nearby. A small dog was leashed to
the stroller, and stood alert with his tail up and wagging. They all looked at me
and smiled in a friendly way as I slowly approached. The cake carrier was
getting kind of heavy. It bumped against my legs.

The woman in the chair, who had glossy
dark brown skin and wore a colorful African shirt and turban, observed my
distress.

“Hey there, you, Superboy!” she called
loudly. “Can’t you see that a lady needs some help?” She winked and smiled at
me. The baby grinned and hooted, waving his hands in the air. I realized it was
the same little boy I had seen many times in the stroller next to Siri’s
daughter.

The teenagers jerked as if startled,
then turned to focus on me in a dazed, distracted fashion.

“My son, Mr. Rashid the Oblivious,
will now help the lady with her package,” she announced, staring meaningfully
at one of the boys.

Rashid seemed to snap out of it.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said politely, “Can I
help you Ma’am?” He shuffled forward to take the carrier carefully out of my
hands.

“Thank you, I don’t want to drop it!
Now I’ll have to give you a piece. Do you like chocolate cake?”

He shot a shy smile over to his
mother, who watched with approval as she jiggled the baby stroller with one
hand.

“Yes Ma’am I sure do!”

“See,” his mother observed as we
entered the building, “Being polite is not such a bad thing, is it?”

“No Ma’am.”

“Just like I told you, right?”

“Yes Ma’am!”

Rashid said he knew where the Rodgers
family’s apartment was, and led the way up to the third floor. At the head of
the stairs, two apartment doors directly across the hallway from each other
were standing open. Music played in both apartments, and several small children
were scooting back and forth on toy vehicles. The boy carrying my cake headed
straight into the door on the right, then back to Siri’s kitchen, obviously
familiar with the territory.

I followed at a slower pace, dodging a
child riding a giant snail on wheels, and entered the living room. At the
moment, no one else was there. It was extremely tidy. The furnishings were done
in earth tones, and looked to be a mix of old and new items acquired over the
years. Several tall, engraved brass lamps, a woven wall hanging and a
hand-carved pierced wooden folding screen spoke of India. A dining table and
chairs occupied one end of the room, the table set for dinner.

Siri came running out of the kitchen
wiping her hands on a towel, crying, “Welcome! Welcome! Welcome to our home!”
and suddenly the room was filled with people as Isabella and Rolando Reyes, Tom
Rodgers, and Siri’s father, Gupta, all appeared and crowded around to hug me or
shake my hand. The kids crowded around too, sensing a competitor for the
adults’ attention, and the Reyes’ little girl started to whine. She was scooped
up by her daddy, who took her back across the hall to her playpen.

We three girls headed for the kitchen.
Siri was roasting a leg of lamb with rosemary, to serve with curried rice.
Bella had made a gorgeous salad. My cake awaited, having survived the trip with
only a little superficial damage. I cut a hunk for Rashid, and put it on a
paper napkin. He thanked me politely and sped off, wolfing it down as he went.

Bella poured three glasses of
Chardonnay. We raised our glasses and clinked, standing together under the
spotlight in front of the sink.

“To friends,” I said.

“To friends,” they repeated. We drank,
smiling.

“Speaking of friends, I hope you’re
not going to kill me.” Siri had turned her back to me, stirring the pot on the
stove.

“What do you mean, kill you?” I asked
her.

“She’s matchmaking again!” Bella
announced, shaking her finger.

“Matchmaking! Who? For me?” I said,
indignantly.

Siri turned and grinned at me.

“No, no, not for you, not exactly that
is,” she said. “It’s for Jim, he’s the one who needs a little help, that’s all.”

“You mean, Jim-your-husband’s-friend,
that Jim?” I asked, remembering him from the opening party at the store. He was
cute, as I recalled.

“Yes, Tom is very concerned about him.
He just moved here, and he doesn’t know anyone, and he’s so lonely. “

“Oh I see. The poor boy.”

“The only thing is, we kind of think
there is a slight possibility that he might be, well…gay. Possibly.”

“Possibly?”

“Well, maybe, he might be. He didn’t
actually say so. But, he never really talks about girls, you know, the way most
of the tradesmen do. Tom says he seems a little embarrassed when they all start
telling dirty jokes.”

“So, maybe he is just more refined
than they are. More polite. Or maybe he’s…gay,” I agreed with her logic.

“And tonight we might find out,” she
said cheerfully, turning back to the stove. “I invited Jim, and I invited you,
the perfect temptation for any
heterosexual
single man, and, I invited my friend
Larson.”

“Larson?” I inquired, never having
heard the name before.

Bella smiled knowingly and nodded her
head.

“Larson Moss. The perfect temptation
for any
gay
single
man,” she finished Siri’s confession.

“So, you mean to dangle both of us in
front of him and see which one he goes for, is that it?” I asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” Siri said, picking up her wine.
“That’s it exactly.”

“Oh, really!”

“Yes really,” she said earnestly. “Whichever
of you he wants to pursue a friendship with, if he does, so much the better.
Isn’t that true?
 
You are all three
fine, lovely people, and everyone deserves to find their happiness.”

She regarded me solemnly.

“Anyhow, how are people ever going to
meet each other if their friends don’t introduce them?” Bella added, logical as
always.

“I see,” I replied. “OK. I’m in. I
think Jim is cute, and I’m certainly not seeing anyone, not at the moment. I’ve
got nothing to lose.” I rolled my eyes.

We lifted our glasses and clinked them
together once again.

“Let the games begin,” said Bella.

 
“No no, no games!” I protested.

“How about, ‘Gentlemen, start your
engines?’” Siri suggested.

“That’s better!”

We heard voices in the living room,
the sound of a welcoming. Heading in to see who had arrived, we discovered Tom
shaking hands vigorously with Jim, who stood in the doorway carrying a bottle
of red wine. They were laughing at something we had missed. Both men looked
over as we women entered the room. Jim spotted Siri and greeted her, coming
over to kiss her on the cheek and hand her the wine. He shook hands with
Isabella, whom he apparently knew as well.

“You remember my friend Emily, don’t
you Jim?”

“Yes, of course. From the wonderful
shop down the street,” he said, shaking my hand. He was very tall, and built
solidly. His eyes crinkled up when he smiled, and his cheeks were rosy. I
decided he reminded me of a young Santa Claus. Lumberjack-style. He was very
friendly and seemed delighted to see me, and everyone else for that matter.

Tom opened the red wine and poured
some for Jim, and for himself. We all settled down in the living room to talk.
Siri had put out some cheese and crackers on the coffee table, and a little
bowl of Calamata olives. It was nice. I felt like an adult. I realized I had
not been out in ages.

The conversation flowed along as Tom
got Jim to tell a funny story about one of their customers at work, and
everyone else chimed in with laughter and comments. Jim was definitely
attractive. A great guy. He looked each of us in the eyes as he spoke,
including everyone and talking with big, expressive gestures. He was well
spoken, and funny too. Bella and I caught eyes, and I nodded, showing my
interest. I gave Jim my best, brightest smile, trying to appear responsive and
attentive. He smiled back at me, obviously pleased.

Then a voice came from the door to the
hall, which still stood open.