From Comfortable Distances (46 page)

In Your Own Garden

Another Time and Place: Brooklyn, fall 2003

The sounds of the prairie
are with me always. The echo of the wind as it whipped at my windows at night,
the rustle of the tree leaves and branches in the darkness, the foxes traveling
stealthily across the campus, frozen in their tracks when the wind brushed past
them or the crickets yelped. In the summertime white cotton wisps floated
through the air, dancing, somersaulting about, lodging themselves on my robe so
that I’d have to pick them off when I went indoors.

The church at the
monastery was designed in a neo-Gothic style and the pipe organ was built by
Fr. William Thurmeier, one of us. The stained glass windows portrayed the River
of Life in the New Jerusalem as described in the last book of the Bible, Revelation.
Above the altar, the windows portrayed the adoring angles. The bell tower was
the focal point of the abbey and the college grounds. It was built in 1994 and
before that we had one that was a bit dilapidated. There was an orchard that
had many crabapple trees. There were also plots for raspberries and other
vegetables, especially near St. Scholastica Residence, which became a
guesthouse. For many years it had been home for the Sisters of St. Elizabeth
who lived and worked at the abbey from 1913 to 1990.

I often wish that I could
tour the monastery grounds with you as we used to tour Mill Basin when we first
came upon one another. You would like the grounds, as they are full of history.
I’ve witnessed your love of the history of place without your ever having to
tell me. The grounds of the monastery have their own story to tell and you
would be able to narrate it to me, teach me about the different styles of
architecture and the colors and the floors.

There’s so much that I
want you to know, Tess. Too much for my mind to compress into words. I decided
to become a monk because of all that I was. It was my destiny, my path, my
home, my calling. I didn’t worry if it was the right thing because it was the
only thing for me. Benedict’s primary attention was to truly seek God. That was
my primary intention. I wanted peace of mind and heart. I wanted to work and
pray because I was thankful, because I believed. I wanted to live in moderation
and balance, stability, mutability. I wanted these things and there was a way
to them with the Benedictines. When I met you, I took to you as I would take to
anyone—the Rule of Benedict says, “All guests are to be welcomed as Christ.”
When I first saw you, I was attracted to you. I thought you were a beautiful
woman, but I didn’t think you would be someone I would fall in love with.  I
didn’t know what it meant to fall in love with a woman, to fall in love with
anyone other than Christ. When I saw you, I believed that you would be my
friend, my confidante; I wanted you in my life, although I cannot explain why.

To be or not to be a
monk? That’s the question I’m asking of myself. That’s the question that you
are asking me with your silence and your acceptance. I ask myself often what a
man is. What his job on this earth is. Life as I see it is very complicated and
complex. I don’t know if one finds the answers to one’s life and helps others
by being tucked away in a monastery. I similarly don’t know if one finds the
answers to one’s life and helps others by being a part of this larger picture,
this larger life. In this world everyone seems too busy, too caught up. I don’t
even know if finding the answers matters. Perhaps our role in life is to keep
finding the questions. But then what—what do we do with the questions? Use them
to further confirm that life is a mystery?

So many years back, after
I returned to the monastery to stay, on my third night, May 9th
—I
remembered the date because it was my parents’ anniversary—there was a full moon.
When the sun finally set, around 10:30 pm in the evening, I walked outside and
wandered a bit down the path to the church. At first there was one star, and
then two and then the stars began to multiply beside the moon, white and
glowing and magnificent in its fullness, and I thought that between that earth
and that sky, if I never got anywhere, it would be fine, because I was exactly
where I needed to be. I returned to bed feeling at peace. It was a long while
until I felt that feeling again, maybe a few times more at the monastery, and
then when I met you.

I watch you Tess and I
try to understand what the meaning of your life is. I’m not measuring you in
any way, but trying to take in your life and learn so that I can better
understand my life. For 23 years I’ve lived by a set of rules. By a to-do list,
much like the ones you create on your post-its and on your computers. I’m in
earnest to know whatever it is that I need to know. I believe that there’s a
reason I’m here, a reason for my meeting you, for us. The story is not yet
fully formed in my soul, which leads me to believe that there’s more to it—more
to us—and until we live our story through, until I live my story through, I
won’t know what it is that God wanted me to know, to learn.

Tess propped her legs up
on her windowsill, slinking back in her office chair. How quickly the fall set
in, the leaves a medley of rust, mustard, and forest green. It was still too
early for the brown leaves—they came later, closer to Halloween. Her shoulders
were tight; she supposed that all the chatarangas were taking their toll. She
rolled her neck left, then right, and up. She felt a slight release, her
shoulders dropping. It felt good to be in her office before everyone else, to
have this time and space to herself. She didn’t want to listen to Lyla or
Michael or anyone, and here, in the privacy of her office, the day just
dawning, she didn’t have to. Michael had called this need for
Tess time
the isolationist in her and she had always reminded him that it was her private
time that enabled her to deal with him. She believed this was the dichotomy of
Tess: she loved being alone as much as she enjoyed her time with people. And it
wasn’t that she loved one time more than the other, it was just that when she went
for more than a day without the Tess time, being with others grew tedious for
her.

So many hurdles to
overcome en route to enlightenment. She smiled. She could imagine her mother
saying that to her with a sympathetic face. Soon Tess would get up and put on
the coffee machine. For now, it was nice to be quiet. She scanned her
mind—nothing in particular was bothering her at this instant. She hadn’t seen
Neal in the last week or so, and that was okay. She liked being pen pals;
besides, she was busy, and he was doing whatever he had to do to figure out his
next move. She had learned to give people their space when and if they needed
it. She reached for her hard covered, encyclopedia-sized volume of
The
Realtor’s Guide to Success
which was situated on the shelf adjacent to her
window, beside photographs of Tess and her Best Reality team over the
years—mostly pictures taken for Christmas cards and congratulations cards Best
sent out after closing deals. She couldn’t remember the last time she had
picked up the book and brushed dust off of the top of it. She believed that
Marc, her first husband, had bought it for her when she had acquired her
realtor’s license. Leafing through the chapters on getting to know your clients
and getting to know the neighborhood, and how to close the deal, she came upon
a hand written note embedded within the pages.

Marc

                 
Pros:
supportive at times, strong (mentally and emotionally), fun

                 
Cons:
womanizer, liar, irritable, self-centered, fighter

Brad

                 
Pros:
stable, kind, intelligent, creative, easy to talk to

                 
Cons:
competitive, irresponsible in terms of money

David

                 
Pros:
attractive, independent, interesting—knowledgeable on opera, wine, etc.

                 
Cons:
boring, self-centered, moody, depressed

Michael

Pros: understands what I do for a living; good to work with;
good conversationalist; hard working; attractive

Cons: tends to be annoying/insecure, loves to be out on the
town all the time, hard to read at times (who is the real Michael?)

She studied the list,
remembering the day she had crafted it—it had been a cold wintery day, a few
days after she had split with Michael. She had gotten off the phone with her
mother after breaking the news of her upcoming divorce and afterwards, she had
wondered what her life was all about, or rather, what the men in her life had
been about—if there was a link between them all. After reviewing the list on
that day, she had concluded that aside from being male, seducing her in their
respective ways, making her laugh, they had all just been men whose path she
had intersected at the right time and place. Only she didn’t know what it was
the right time and place for. Companionship? Growth? After each of her
relationships, she had felt exhausted for weeks, months, before the freedom,
the exhilaration of being on her own again overcame her. It was on that day,
after she hung up the phone with her mother and constructed this list that she
had promised herself that her man phase was over. She was going to be Tess, on
her own, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, to the end.

She added Neal to the list

Neal

                 
Pros:
sweet, considerate, gentle, quiet, kind, introspective

                 
Cons:
Roman Catholic Monk

She crossed that out.
Being a monk wasn’t a con. It was what he did, in the way that she was a
realtor. Only no, it was more than that. It was how he lived his life. A pro?
No. Not a pro. It just was.  She crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it
into her garbage pail. She didn’t know if there would be any more men in her
life. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. No more promises to herself or others,
only living. If she stayed true to Tess, then whatever happened next was
exactly on course. No wrong or right paths, only paths.

Michael knocked on her
door and walked into her office.

“I was busy you know,”
she said, closing the book and resting it on her desk.

“
The Realtor’s Guide
to Success
? That’s what you’re busy with? You could probably write that
book,” Michael said. “Did you have your coffee yet?”

“Good morning to you too,
Michael. I’ve only had my tea back at the ranch,” she said.

“Why is it that you only
drink tea in your home but at the office you only drink coffee?” Michael said.

“Tea soothes me and in my
home I want to be soothed. Coffee stirs me up, breaths fire into me, and in my
office I want to be fired up,” Tess said.

“You have an answer for
everything, don’t you?” Michael said.

Michael moved closer to
her desk and scrutinized Tess so that she lifted her eyebrows in return.

“Can I help you with
something?” she said.

“I’m worried about you,
Tess.”

“Here we go again. It’s
true life confession time at Best Reality,” Tess said.

“I mean it, Tess. You
don’t seem right. I’m worried,” Michael said.

“Whenever someone says
that to me, you know what instantly goes through my mind?” Tess said.

“Something tells me I’m
going to be sorry I told you how I feel,” Michael said.

“I think that you’re
worried about something with you but are displacing it with telling yourself
that you’re worried about me,” Tess said.

“Have you been studying
psychology now too?” Michael said.

“Michael, I’m fine.  I
don’t know if I’ve ever felt clearer headed,” she said, leaning forward in her
seat so that the tightness in her shoulders pinched her neck and she winced.

“You look like you’re in
pain,” Michael said.

“My shoulders,” she said.
“Tight from all the yoga.”

“Glad I didn’t join that
bandwagon. Last thing I need is more pain in my life,” Michael said.

“The drama doesn’t suit
you, Michael,” Tess said.

“If you want to know why
I’m worried—” Michael said.

“I don’t want to know
why,” Tess said.

“Between his mother and
her freakish ways and your traipsing off to yoga morning, noon and night and
now you’re going to spend the holidays up in Woodstock with your son,” Michael
said.

“You must be awfully
bored to concoct lists that pertain to my well-being. I have better things to
do, like run a business and live my life, rather than to console you about my
worrisome existence. And by the way, I’m really looking forward to the holidays
up in Woodstock. I think it’s going to be wonderful for Kash and me,” Tess
said.

Michael nodded. He moved
toward the door and turned back to Tess.

“The famous walk to the
door and turn around move. If I gave you a dollar for every time you did it,
you’d be a wealthy man.”

 “I’m going to put up the
coffee,” he said.

“Wonderful. Thanks for
making yourself useful,” Tess said.

He nodded again but
didn’t move to go.

“Can I ask you something,
Michael?” Tess said.

He remained still, his
eyes meeting Tess’s, insinuating a yes.

“Do you ever miss your
first wife?” she said.

“Why would you ask me
that?” he said.

“Curiosity, I suppose.
When I think of my ex-husbands, they all sort of mush together; it’s more of a
slide show that passes by. You were the shortest of my marriages and probably
the most far-fetched, but I remember our times together vividly,” Tess said.

“Far-fetched?” Michael
said.

“Michael. Don’t take
everything to heart. You know that I cared about you. I loved you. We were
far-fetched in that we didn’t need to get married. We had a great relationship.
We had fun.  We could have just been together and worked together. I think that
you and I got married so that there was a legitimate reason to get divorced
from our spouses at the time. Otherwise, they would have had the hope things
could have been worked out. I think we both had a need to terminate those
relationships,” Tess said.

“You’ve got it all
figured out,” Michael said.

“Michael,” Tess said.

“Sure I think about my
ex-wife. For most of my adult life, she was all I ever knew. I wish her well.
Just because I wasn’t in love with her doesn’t mean she wasn’t a good person.
I’m glad that you loved me.”

“I think that we helped
each other. I don’t think that our getting together was random. I think it was
part of our paths,” Tess said.

He rested his head
against the back of the door and smiled at her—it was a tired, defeated smile.

“Do you regret me, Tess?
Us?”

“No. I don’t. I just know
that nothing is forever.”

“Sometimes it is forever.
I think that’s a choice people make,” he said.

“People change. They grow
apart just as easily as they grow together.”

“What about people who
survive 50 year or more marriages?” he asked.

“Just because they’re
together doesn’t mean they’re happy.”

He nodded. “Maybe
happiness is overrated.”

“Maybe,” she said.

 He nodded and then shut
her office door gently. There were emails that had accumulated and she was sure
that if she scanned her to do list there were over half a dozen clients that
she had to call back. She rested her head down in the triangle of her arms and
gave herself permission not to think for a few minutes before the workday
began.