by Nicole Wells
“Whatever, so long as you don’t do your mojo on me. You’re not going to do that are you?” She asks suspiciously.
“What? I thought you were my defender?”
“Pish. I have a weak spot for the innocent and crazy. It doesn’t mean I want to join the club.”
I grab some papers and swat at her.
“Go dye your hair red and green or something. No, wait, that's too predictable for you. Candy cane red and white.” I joke, but her eyes light up and she turns to leave, probably to take stock of what colors she has in the bathroom.
"Hey, thanks for having my back," I say to her retreating back, and she swats backwards at me again, like an inept turquoise mechanical fly swatter that one might keep around for the nostalgia of it.
—— ——
SPARKS SWARM and lights dance as I'm carried away by my meditation. This vision brings me to my dad. He's in his office. His beard is grown out, and it looks like this must be a recent one. He's at his computer typing. He seems frustrated and I somehow know he's worried that he has started forgetting things. I see him reach for something and knock over a container of pens. I can feel his fear at his clumsiness, that this is another symptom of Huntington's. His mind is dogged with his recollection and grief as he recalls his mother's deteriorating condition towards the end. He puts the pens away slowly, one by one, as if trying to not go faster and confirm his inability. My heart goes out to him. He seems so old and vulnerable at this moment, not like the father I knew.
Once done he reaches past them again, this time succeeding in lifting a familiar folder. As if in ritual, he lays the folder in his lap, hands quietly resting on top and takes a few deep breaths. Then he pulls out the pages of quotes. I mentally move closer to see which one he is reading. I see his hand shakily tracing the lines as he slowly reads. I can’t quite make out the words.
Love
Like fog dissipating, it becomes clear. It’s not any of the pages of quotes. It’s a letter from his mom. And I feel his love for her, his witness of her acceptance as she passed, her spirit no longer imprisoned in its body. The moment the veil lifted and she returned to that essence, that love. I feel my dad understanding the promise of the same release for himself one day. I feel him weighing his life and finding the only things of actual substance are his love for Mom and his love for me.
Love is all there is.
chapter 27
“I’M GLAD THE COMMUNITY in Toronto is working out.” Yasmin is headed there again for her winter break. I understand she isn’t keen on coming back here. I have no doubt she would for me, but I wouldn’t put her through that. “I just wish there was some way we could get together during your break.”
“We gotta plan a vacation together. Spring break, make it happen. Get Jacob involved, he’s the deets guy. Anyway, it's good to have a guy around. They’re good for some things. And he’s a good guy. One of the best.”
She keeps bringing him up, but if I react I know she won't let it go. "Yeah, maybe," I say noncommittally to her idea of Spring Break, while my heart wholly agrees with her assessment of him.
“Seriously, where do you want to go? I’m game. Let's do this. Can Jacob borrow that RV again, do you think?”
“I don’t think another road trip is what we need.”
“Sure it is. You’ll want to go to Podunk, Nowhere to get away from all the trolls. The internet is everywhere. But that's fine. I need a breather from the city. Hey, what if we meet Jacob out west? Do Death Valley or something. You guys never went to Yosemite, right?”
“I didn’t picture you as much of a camper. Wait, why do I need to avoid the internet?”
“I know you’re not into social media, but don’t you at least google yourself?”
“Uh-oh, this does not sound good.”
“Just a lot of trolling. What are you going to do? Some people revel in being faceless and baseless.”
“Is it the video of the pregnant ladies again?”
"What? No, you really haven't seen it? Oh, Enya, I'm so sorry. I thought you knew about the clip and were just distancing yourself from all the comments. I was sure you knew! How could you not? It's become like a national conversation. I just read it on your behalf."
“Yasmin, what?”
“Dr. Andrews went on a tirade. Other doctors have joined him. They used your story as an example. Of what not to do. You know, if you're terminally ill or something?”
“Wait, what? Dr. Andrews? I haven't seen him in, like, over a year! Don’t do what? Have hope?”
“Delude yourself. To stay away from quackery. They knew you were into alternative medicine.”
“Wait, so he’s talking about my diagnosis? Isn’t that against the law?”
“Apparently someone did some research on you. If you told a friend and they told someone, that's not illegal. It could have even been someone from school. You know our classmates knew about your dad’s suicide. Anyone could research and figure you had a strong chance of having Huntington's too. So word got out. And when Greta Thunberg became famous, her psychiatrist came out and spoke up against what she was doing and how the world was receiving it, like we were all enabling her Aspergers.”
I plop onto the bench, my legs no longer supporting me. I'd started this conversation because I was a few minutes early to my weekly date with Bob, and he usually runs late anyway. I thought it would be a quick fun check-in like I often do with her.
"I'm so sorry. I hadn't brought it up because I figured it was a sore topic. I didn't even think you might not know. This is why we need to see each other in person. Let's do this vacation. This is all the more reason."
“Damn Fee, she must have known, and she’s got it into her head she has to protect me.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you, that girl sounds a little crazy.”
“Yasmin, what am I going to do?”
“It's done, hon. Really, the interwebs will be obsessed with something else tomorrow. No one has a long attention span, let alone any memory. This will be forgotten, don't worry”
“What were you saying about the trolls?”
“Oh, yeah, well. It's better to just forget I said that.”
“Yasmin, girl, I love you like a sister but you’re trying my patience.”
“There’s just a new slurry of nasty comments. Things like this go in waves. Someone says something and brings attention to it and then everyone has to weigh in. Don't worry. Just let the haters go. They’ve got issues. One can only give love as much as they love themselves. If anything, feel sorry for them and move on.”
I memorized Jacob’s last letter long ago, and Yasmin’s words spark a quote I find myself saying out loud, “‘Forgiveness is a funny thing. One can only forgive as much as we have known forgiveness.’”
“What?”
“Just something a wise soul once told me. It's good to remember. I thought I was okay with all the notoriety, but this is such an invasion of privacy.”
“I know. Hey, listen, I don’t have to go to Toronto. I can come there.”
“Don’t you dare. You finally have your community. Enjoy it. I’m fine. It was just a shock, but I’m already adapting. Every moment. I get it better now, the not judging.”
“What?”
"Not having any opposition to the moment. Letting every judgment go. Getting to the depth of forgiveness and compassion."
“Is that more sagely advice from that wise soul?”
“Yeah.” It comes out whispered, like a promise. Even in my time of need, he is here for me, I think to myself and smile.
"You know, you're pretty wise yourself. You're an amazing human being, Enya. I'm glad you don't let any of this change you. Any of the stuff that's happened, really."
But I am changed, I think. And I do feel it in every single cell of my body. My skin has replaced itself almost 15 times since my diagnosis, over one percent of my heart is new, and 15% of my skeleton. I’ve been remade in many ways since my diagnosis, and I’m sure I�
��ll never be the same. It's like homeopathy — the substance is gone, but its echo, its essence permeates. I may have cut Jacob from my life, but he is still here with me.
"Enya!" Bob greets me and then realizes I'm talking on the phone. "Bob's here," I tell Yasmin.
“Oh, okay. Let me know about spring break, okay? I’m serious. And gimme a call back, we can talk about this more. I’m really sorry I dumped it on you like this.”
“No worries, I really am ok. It was just a surprise. I’m not upset. But I won’t be googling myself anytime soon, I promise.”
I hang up and Bob looks at me in question.
“Apparently I’m famous again, and not in a good way.”
He cracks open his Tupperware, revealing a pasta salad. "What, does Dr. Andrews have another video out?"
“What? You knew about this too? You don’t even own a computer!”
“I might not have a cell phone that runs my house, but I most definitely have multiple computers. Anyway, that video was from a while ago. If you didn’t even know about it, what's the big deal?”
“Nothing, it's just that I just found out. But I’m finding my compassionate space.”
Bob nods with pride. “Most people crave attention. I’m proud of you for knowing better. For knowing true power versus false power or ego.”
I stop playing with my dinner leftovers and give him my full attention. “What do you mean?”
“I see it all the time in Academia. False power is seeing the wave coming and forcing your way through. The loud person in the room. True power is letting go. Knowing you’re not in control. You see the wave and you ride it. True power is the quiet person in the room.
“Don't let egos pull you into a fight. Let them be and leave room for the possibility that their truth is real too. Like, there’s no right or wrong in science. It’s all just theory, proven until it's disproved.”
He leans on one elbow and gestures with his fork, "You're a special kind of person because you know that. You embody that. People will try to take advantage of you or threaten you. It's good that you know when someone is being their authentic self versus their false ego."
I’m flattered that he sees me this way. I kinda think the same of him. Maybe it takes one to know one.
"Thanks. I never really thought of it that way. You're a really special kind of person too. No one can replace my dad, but you're kinda like an uncle I never had." I smile and he pulls me in for a one-armed sideways hug.
“But I don’t really want to be a lightning bolt for attention because I’m a special kind of person. You don’t think this whole thing will just blow over?"
"Oh, no. You have the attention of the doctors, the hopeful romantics, the ill, the skeptics, and the fervent believers. Your star is definitely rising," says the astronomer.
—— ——
“LOOK OUTSIDE. By our calendars winter has not officially begun, but the energy is already at the peak of winter. Energy always goes before the physical form.”
“So it's the season of water.”
"Yes, a time of unknowing and possibility. Have you thought about a new year's resolution? I know it seems corny, but as you study these energies, you might consider allowing yourself to fully experience the seasons. You don't really get a feel for the elements without feeling them in their, well, element. So go into this place of darkness in you. Imagine the depth of winter. Amidst all that contraction there is a great expansion. You are cold, curled in on yourself, muscles tight, but you look out at that expanse of snow and it is endless. When there is nothing, nothing is defined, and anything can manifest. So in a way when there is nothing, there is everything. Think of the seed buried deep in the earth in the winter and all of her possibilities. This is your New Year's resolution. In the deep dark unknowing of your soul, what possibility will you birth? What fear will you transmute into wisdom?"
“I feel like I’ve made peace with having Huntington's.”
“And so you have.”
“Maybe people not liking me? It does bother me, what all these strangers are saying. Their judgments when they don't even know me. If it was just me, I could let it slough off, but it affects my friends and family too."
“That’s still identification and ego, which you’ve made great strides in. I think it won’t bother you so much as you hold onto your connections with your meditation. As you think and act through your heart more than your head. But let's go back to this idea of being liked … that is very fiery, I think there is something there.”
“That I need to be liked?”
“It is crucial for a Fire like you and your Heart that you have that connection and passion.”
“So maybe I have a fear of not being loved?
"I don't know, maybe. Does that resonate with you? Does that seem like a good New Year's resolution for you, if you were granted the power to especially conquer your fears during this time when anything is possible?"
“Maybe” I sigh, defeated. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep my secrets from her.
She takes my pulses. “Hm”
I don’t interrupt. She goes back and forth between my hands, her head tilted to the side as she listens.
Finally, she declares, “I’ve got the perfect point for you! It's an upper Kidney spirit point — Walking on the Verandah. One of my favorites. We're going to do a beautiful treatment today, just letting this point talk, no one else.
"This point is about someone who has been through a great fear or trauma, and they've sheltered in their house. Eventually, they look out on the outside world, and it beckons them. They desire to go back into the world but are not quite ready yet. This is them walking on the verandah. Finding who they are from the truth in their Heart and standing tall and confident in that truth so that they can shed their fears and protections and face life again, stronger because they are honest and true."
I am not quite sure how that relates to me, but I’ve had enough acupuncture with her to know she found something important and this treatment will rock.
“I think you’ll have your answer after this session. Don’t worry about telling me what you find. It's about you knowing, not me.”
“The answer to what my New Year's resolution should be?” I ask
She smiles like she wants to say, "No, silly!" but instead she says "The way off the verandah."
chapter 28
"SO, WHEN ARE YOU going to invite Joshua over?" My mom asks as we trim the Christmas tree, almost causing me to lose my precarious balance on the step stool and topple the tree.
"What?" I ask around a faceful of pine branches. Really regretting going with a live tree right now. Do I have sap in my hair?
"Joshua. You know, that boy you're always mentioning," she says with a knowing glint, which I can see now that I've extracted myself and am no longer a human ornament.
"Mom, Joshua and I are just friends. Kinda. He's more Fee's friend."
"Hmm. Well, it sounds like you do an awful lot together with him. Is he cute?"
"Ugh, Mom, not you too. I'm not interested in dating Joshua."
“So does that mean he's interested in dating you?"
"Why does everyone want me to date Joshua?”
“Oh honey, I just want you to be happy. You've put your future on hold indefinitely,” She holds her hands up forestalling my objection, "and that's fine. College can wait. But you don't have to put your personal life on hold too.
“Live your life. Allow yourself to really enjoy yourself, not just go through the motions." She smoothes some wayward hair from my face.
"Yasmin and Jacob are not here anymore and are finding their new circle of friends. I'm sorry, honey, but it's true. Even though they're still your friends, they are having new experiences and meeting new people, as they should. Life goes on."
Her hands idly play with a snow globe I made in the third grade, a memento from my childhood of an imaginary world frozen in time.
It's two weeks before Christmas. I don't think Chris
tmas will ever be the same without Dad, but it's getting better. We used to do decorations last minute, if at all. This year is the earliest we've gotten into the holiday spirit since dad died. She's bought a bunch of new decorations and everything. Dad would be happy to know we're thinking of the good more than the bad when we think of him now.
"Yes, life does go on," I repeat slowly.
I stand back and survey our work. Silver and gold ornaments sparkle and white lights twinkle while a red ribbon garland sashays it's way around the tree. It seems a bit much for just the two of us, especially considering I have my own place now, but it’s somehow right, like a treat to ourselves for really celebrating this year.
"Enya, I'm sorry if I was being too nosy. I just want what's best for you." She reaches out again, her fingers hovering at my elbow, connecting with my clothes, but yet not touching me.
"Oh Mom, it's ok. I guess I'm just frustrated at everyone having an opinion on my love life. Well, I guess not everyone. It's mostly Fee. And it's more like a strong-armed manipulation than an opinion." I muse.
"I told you I didn't think answering a roommate ad was a good idea."
"Mom," I start, the whine automatic before I catch myself and change the subject, turning towards the tree again. "It looks really good," I say, surveying our work.
She steps closer next to me, our shoulders touching. I swing my arm around her, appreciating the precious moment. Sarah McLachlan croons low key noel songs and fresh pine scent fills the air. I think I could like Christmas this year. I wonder what we could put under the tree to make it look less bare because there won't be that many gifts between the two of us. Potted flowers?
“I can’t believe it's Christmas already. Next it will be New Years.”