Destined (23 page)

If Lexi had thought of me as a friend,
whatever that meant in Lexi Land, then maybe she felt personally upset when I
quit. I knew she was totally unaware of how she sounded sometimes. She was a
great salesperson and knew a lot about how to manipulate people, but she was a
klutz at real relationships. She told me once that she didn’t have any close
girlfriends at college, that she had never trusted other women. She had always
seemed kind of lonely and pathetic to me. Her self-centeredness might have
something to do with this, as both a cause and an effect. Maybe she thought I
just freaked out for my own selfish reasons and deserted her for a better job.
Maybe she had no clue about how I had felt that day, or why I had felt that
way. Maybe there was something I could do now to change things, if I went to
see her. I could remind her of our good times together. Charm her. It might
work if I could get past my innate disapproval of her egocentricity. If I acted
as if we could be friends again, then maybe it would happen.

What was it Tony said he would do? Go
see her, find out what she wanted, and try to give it to her. That sounded like
a pretty good plan, now that I had thought about it. I decided to follow up as
soon as I could. Tomorrow! Immediately, I felt lighter and happier.

I slept very soundly that night. I lay
totally relaxed in my bed under the skylight and the waxing quarter moon shone
down on me from overhead. I dreamed about flying, one of my favorite dreams. I
flew effortlessly through the air and steered by
yearning
towards a certain direction. In my
dream I flew over to Market Street, where I hovered outside an upstairs window.
Tony was inside, lying asleep in bed. I flew through the wall and hovered over
him. He looked beautiful and peaceful. I wanted to lie down next to him, so I
did, being careful not to disturb him. I felt his warmth all along one side of
me as I snuggled into the curve of his body. It was very pleasant, and I closed
my dream eyes and drifted off to dream sleep.

When I woke up, for real, it was
morning. I still felt the warmth of his body next to me in the sheets. It was
uncanny. I reached out with my hand and felt something furry beside me.

“Mmrrrr?” said Tree, poking his head
up out of the covers.

I burst out laughing and pulled him
out to tickle him under the chin. He purred ecstatically. The sun was shining,
the birds were singing. It was a new day. And I’d started it with laughter and happiness,
which is a good thing. I decided to try and stick with the same attitude for as
long as possible.

Description:
 
A skeleton rides a black horse or rows a boat across the river Styx,
sometimes flying a banner that displays a rose, the symbol of Life.

Meaning:
 
Change, death, rebirth. Reincarnation,
metamorphosis. Getting rid of antiquated ideas to move forward in a new,
liberated state.

When I got into work at around nine, I looked out the
back window and noticed that the Prius was not in residence. There was only a
little coffee left in the still-warm pot, and a neatly rinsed bowl and spoon
occupied the dishwasher, which someone (joy!) had emptied. Probably someone
tall, dark and handsome. Who had consumed three of the low-fat yogurts by now,
I saw as I leaned into the fridge to pull out the ingredients for today’s lunch
special, vegetarian
moussaka
.

I had
already made the thick tomato-based sauce yesterday, using lentils and
mushrooms instead of ground lamb, with lots of fresh parsley and cinnamon. This
morning I only had to roast the eggplant slices in the oven on cookie sheets,
make a quick ricotta egg custard sauce for the top, and then assemble
everything in a couple of big rectangular baking dishes. I wanted to get the
eggplant sliced into disks, drizzled with olive oil and into the oven first
thing, so it was ready to work with while my breakfast scones were baking.

The eggplant was nearly done and the
first batch of scones was sitting ready to take its place when I heard someone
coming down the back stairs. My employer shuffled into the kitchen, dressed and
combed, carrying an empty white mug.

“Too early?” he inquired with a
forelorn expression, looking at the tray of unbaked scones sitting on the
counter.

“Sorry!” I said, “It’ll just be a few
minutes, they’re going in right now.”

He poured the last of the coffee into
his mug and collapsed into one of the chairs at the table. He rubbed his eyes
wearily.

“Are you feeling OK?” I asked. I
pulled the three hot cookie sheets of roasted eggplant circles out of the oven
and put them on the granite countertop to cool.

“Oh yes,” he said. “It’s just Tony,
you know. Up with the birds. Full of energy. Every day. It’s driving me crazy.”

I smiled. Tony was driving me crazy,
too. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! I slid the scones into the oven
and closed the door, remembering last night.

“So, where’s the car?” I asked,
nodding toward the alley.

“He was off at dawn today. Made me
drink green tea when I’m usually still lost in slumber. Says it will be good
for me. Have you ever heard such drivel?”

“Why, yes, I think I heard some drivel
just like that last night. It seems Tony has been reading the holistic health
news.”

“That’s what comes from all this
traveling around on airplanes. One is exposed to all sorts of unsuitable
reading matter.” He sniffed.

“Not his typical fare?”

Henry looked shocked and shook his
head.

“Definitely not. But let’s not be too
concerned. When he starts listening to
A Prairie Home Companion
instead of salsa music, then we’ll
worry.”

“He does seem to be making a lot of
changes in his life lately, “ I commented, interested in Henry’s thoughts on
the matter. I hoped to tempt him into revealing some significant details about
Tony’s precipitous move to the U.S..

The old man looked at me sharply over
the edge of his coffee mug, leaning back in his chair. I started to measure out
the flour and milk for the white sauce that would be the base for my custard. I
didn’t want to appear overly concerned with his answer.

“What do you really think of Tony?”
Mr. Paradis asked bluntly.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I asked.”

“I like him very much. He seems to be
a person of conscience. I admire that. And, “ I said, starting to whisk flour
into the melting butter in my heaviest pot, “He’s very attractive, of course.
That doesn’t hurt.”

Henry regarded me thoughtfully. He did
not seem satisfied with my response.

“Tony Novak is a man of great
imagination and vision, Emily. Do you believe in vision?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t know what you
mean.”

“The power of visualization, following
your vision of the future.”

“You mean, deliberately? Or
coincidentally?”

“Deliberately, of course. I’m not
talking about mere observation. I’m talking about the actual creation of one’s
reality, one’s future reality.”

The timer dinged, and I took the
scones out of the oven while the
roux
cooked on low. I was still not sure what he was trying
to say.

“What does that have to do with Tony?”
I asked. “You’re suggesting he uses this…technique?”

He smiled, nodding an affirmation. I
put two scones on a plate for him and he took it from my hand. Then I turned
back to the stove and poured hot milk into the heavy-bottomed pan, whisking
madly. The sauce blended and started to thicken. I turned up the heat slightly
and kept on whisking, slower now.

“Tony believes in taking the bull by
the horns,” Henry was saying, “and I must say I approve. When he visualizes a
goal, he heads straight for it. He does not falter. He takes full advantage of
every opportunity that destiny puts in his path. He believes that his
visualization actually creates the opportunities. It’s a very interesting idea.”

“Did he attend a seminar on this
somewhere?” I asked.

“Yes, I believe he did.”

“He took a seminar on negotiation, he
told me,” I said.

“Yes.”

“He seems very interested in his
continuing education.”

“He is a natural scholar. Omnivorous.
Full scholarship at Princeton, you know!”

“Why did he really leave England,
Henry? What new vision of his life is he creating now?” I asked, turning off
the burner and leaning back against the counter with my arms folded
protectively in front of my chest.

My friend regarded me with a little
smile.

“I believe you already know the answer
to the second question, Emily. Is the answer to the first what you are really
worried about?”

I nodded. No point in hiding it, since
the old boy could read my mind anyhow.

“When Tony was a young boy,” he
launched into story-telling mode, ”His parents had some dear friends who lived
in England and came to Italy on vacation every year. They had a house near the
summer home of Tony’s family, at Lake Como. There were three pretty daughters,
playmates for Tony and his sister every summer when they were children. It was
always the dream of both sets of parents that he would end up marrying one of
the three girls.”

He paused for a breath then went on,
waving his hand in the air for emphasis.

“The eldest daughter married young, a
British military officer, I believe. The second daughter declared herself at
age twenty-one to be a Lesbian, and moved into an apartment with her female
lover. The youngest daughter, who was five years Tony’s junior and whom he had
always regarded as an infant, grew up into a beautiful young woman and fell
madly in love with him. There was a fling at Como the summer after he finished
graduate school. She told her sister, who told her mother, who told Tony’s
mother, who told his father. Everyone agreed that it was a perfect match, and
the two fathers offered to buy the couple a house in Italy near their family
homes.”

I can’t say I liked where this story
seemed to be heading, but it was definitely fascinating. I made a fresh pot of
coffee while we talked.

“What did he do then? Was he in love
with her too?”

“Tony did the only honorable thing he
could think of, as you might have predicted, my dear,” Henry said. “He offered
to marry her. He did not fall in love with her, though. Slight problem. He was
very
fond
of her,
of course. And he didn’t want to upset anyone.”

“Oh,” I nodded, relieved. “Were they
ever actually married? Did he break it off?”

I started to crack eggs and separate
the yolks from the whites, whisking the egg yolks into the sauce one at a time.
Then I stirred in a big dollop of ricotta cheese.

“They became engaged, “ Henry
continued, “And Tony ingeniously insisted that she must complete her university
education before thinking of a wedding. She was very young, after all. As she
was in England and he was traveling the Orient most of the time, they did not
see much of each other for the next few years. She led the carefree life of a
bright young student of considerable means, and he led the life of an
adventurer. These were the years when our friend made his fortune, and he was
constantly on the move. The remote presence of an invisible fiancé can be quite
useful to a young woman at times, I hear,” he said, peering at me.