“Hey mom, I am just calling to see how you’re doing?”
“I am fine son, but how are you holding up? The past few weeks must have been really rough on you.”
“No not really I just pretty much buried my head in work.”
“You are just like your father, when will you men learn that the way to handle tragedy isn’t to let it eat you up on the inside while pretending to be focused on work.”
“Tragedy!” confused he asks, “Mommy what are you talking about? Oh, you mean Calista’s death. That’s not why I am so focused on work.”
“Boy you have always known how to take denial to another level, but right now you are being a little ridiculous.”
“Mom, if you aren’t talking about Calista then I really do not know what it is you are talking about. Will you just please tell me what’s going on?”
“OK, I already knew about the baby passing, but why didn’t you tell me of poor Joanna? Why did I have to learn about her from people who are damn near strangers?”
There is a long pause, for a while Valde is pulling a blank. He finally asks, “Mom, you are kidding right? Someone told you that Joanna died, Joanna Salisburg, are you sure?”
At this point feeling faint, he stumbles to his kitchen and pours water from a pitcher, “Mom when did this all happen?”
“According to the papers, the funeral was last week.”
Still reeling he attempts to control his gait as he makes his way back to bed, back to his comfort zone, to his puffy pillows and rich satin sheets where it always feels good. Wait, no, not this time. This time around no amount of delusion or escapism can shield him from what is the reality of things. His attempt to put his friends and the world on hold has failed. Tick, time continues, tock, lives went on or rather in this instance one ended, tick, for him it all sinks in. “Mom I have to go.”
“OK son and this time around don’t you dare wait another month to pass before calling me.”
As his finger depresses end he jumps up onto the edge of his bed. “I can’t believe this is happening.” He says to himself, “Poor Alex, over the past couple of weeks I have only heard from him once. I thought he and Joanna were busy coping with Calista’s death. How was I to know that his burden had doubled?” He fidgets with his phone wondering should he call and if he does what would he say this time? As can be seen from recent developments he is really no good at the feat of solacing another. Sure he could charm his way into the bosom and between the lap of the unsuspecting damsel, actually he was quite guile at conquering even the suspecting target, but when it came to conjuring words that are meant to soothe another, he nine times out of ten would draw a blank.
“Val, what is the matter?”
“You remember Rich, he and I worked on that project together a few months ago.”
“Rich?” Joanna asked trying to match the name to the face.
“Yes, portly guy, short in stature, he was at Henry and Jessica’s place for last New Years’ Eve, I introduced him and his wife to you. You said they made a cute couple however you thought him to be a bit weird.”
“Oh yes, sweet guy, I thought he had a bit of Napoleon complex and is it just me or was the height difference between him and his wife a bit out there.”
Valde chuckles “Baby stop being petty.”
“OK fine,” she pouts, “but see you agree, if I am so petty you shouldn’t be laughing. Come on tell me what about him?”
“His wife died.”
“How sad?” gasped Joanna, “that is truly sad. She was young, wasn’t she?”
“I guess. I don’t know.”
“Yeah we were about the same age.”
“Quite possibly.”
“How did it happen?”
“I don’t know, the email didn’t say however her viewing is tomorrow.”
“Are we going?”
“I don’t think so,” he pauses, “funerals aren’t my thing.”
“Well baby, do give him my condolences when you speak to him.”
“I will when I figure out what to say to him.”
“What do you mean when you figure out what to say to him?”
“Exactly that,” said an overwhelmed Valde, “There is nothing that I can say that will bring his wife back. I don’t believe that any words from me, no matter how kind or well intentioned, can swat away any of the grief that he must be experiencing right now.”
“Sweetie, you need to believe in the healing power of words. Not to sound like some new age hippie but you know it is true that when spoken to the right person sometimes just a kind hello and a smile can make the world of a difference and go very far in brightening even the gloomiest day. So letting your buddy know that you empathize isn’t a bad thing.”
“Easy for you to say, you walk into the room and everyone feels better just because you are there. You could say the cruelest thing, no matter how pugnacious, no matter the shortness or the brutal honesty and your audience loves you even more for it. As for me, I am not so blessed my dear. Even my rosiest gestures are thorn laced and much to my misfortune the oft too sensitive are easily pinched and pricked. Yes I know I can be brutal and I assure you babe it’s not for spite for I rarely seek to offend. However in my incognizance my words can be piercing and as for my audience bleed they do bleed.”
“I love it when you channel your inner Elizabethan,” she poked fun, “however my dearest sir wouldn’t you say that sometimes you are just a tad dramatic?”
“Oh come on, I am being serious,” he pled, “I do need your help I don’t know what to say.”
“Let me see if I can help,” she said as she moved closer to him. “Sit back in the couch baby, and try to relax.”
“OK.”
She paused contemplatively for a moment then continued, “Now I want you to sit there for the next five minutes and think long and hard how you would feel if I were to die right now. Take your time, soak in the sense of loss, and really allow it to permeate your core. Then you might come close to understanding what it is he is going through. Then you will know what to say to him.”
He sat in silence and attempted to concentrate however nothing happened. He then got up and poured himself some Bourbon, turned on a little chamber music and sat back in his chair. About fifteen minutes later as Ravel’s Bolero came to its climatic end Valde’ s initial sniffles had grown to profuse sobbing. At near panic he went searching for Joanna. With his eyes welled up with tears, he found her out on the patio having a cup of tea and a smoke. She noticed that he had been crying.
“Are you OK baby?”
“Don’t you dare do this to me again,” he said with a whimper.
“Don’t do what love?”
“I don’t ever want to experience what it is to lose you, do you understand?”
“I am here baby. You won’t ever have to worry about losing me for you never will.”
“I mean I sat there and at first the thought of losing you was just impossible and then I tried harder. It is then that I just felt really empty inside. It all felt so real. Nothing mattered, I mean nothing, all I know is that without you it all seemed meaningless and the pain was too much. I mean I felt a burning in my stomach and my head...it would all be too unbearable.”
“It’s OK,” she said consolingly, “Now you know what Rich might be going through.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“See baby that exercise in empathy wasn’t so bad.”
As Valde concludes that memory of him and Joanna, his fingers still fidget about the buttons on his cell phone. “Empathy,” he mumbles, “I need to be empathetic.”
He then depresses the number three to speed dial his dearest friend.
Chapter 32
A scruffy and unkempt Alex answers his doorbell by shouting through the door at Valde “You! What do you want?”
“Come on dude, open the door,” demands Valde.
“Ah, who are you supposed to be again, for you sir cannot be real? You must be one of those gh
osts from my past. Lately I have been spending a lot of time with your cohorts.”
“Alright fine call me the ghost of your past, damn it, you may call me the ghost of whatever you want just let me in,”
As Alex hesitantly unlatches the door he says to Valde, “Come on in, make yourself at home. We are having a party inside here.”
“We, who is we?” asks Valde as he looks around.
“Weren’t you listening to me?” he asks while making a rather silly face, “I am here with the spirits, well they are more the distilled kind than they are eerie, none the less they never fail to put a chill down my spine. Oh wait, no it’s more of a warming sensation.”
It’s a sensation of a different kind that runs through Valde. Passing by Alex on the way into the apartment his nostril becomes heavily burdened by the dense smell of alcohol. “I see you have literally been drowning your sorrows,” he says to his friend, “Just inhaling your breath will probably give me a hangover. Have you drank anything besides alcohol recently, I mean your poor kidneys must be screaming out for some H2O.”
“No my friend I am not drowning in my sorrows, you have it all wrong, I am celebrating life, Calista’s, Joanna’s, yours, mine and everyone’s life,” he says stumbling on a grounded throw pillow on his way to his wet bar, “You see my friend, I was told to not mourn my loss because when death occurs one should celebrate the life of those who passed. Initially I dismissed it as bullshit, but as me and the fellows grew more acquainted I skipped the bull and embraced the shit. I mean such a novel concept, well I guess it’s not so novel, but it’s true, why be down? There is no need for that,” he pauses to burp then continues, “Celebrate my friend, come, you should celebrate with me. Now over the past few weeks the boys and I have been inseparable. We have been here in my condo throwing this kick-ass party which you I am happy you showed up to. Nothing too wild and no don’t give me that look, as much as I thought of looking up Javier’s number for old time sake, I figured I could do without the blow.”
“Good very good, somehow the headline Upper East Side Golden Boy and Assistant D.A. Blows His Future In Whirlwind Coke Binge wouldn’t look good on the cover of The Post and it certainly wouldn’t help any political aspirations you might be secretly fostering.”
“When you put it that way it wouldn’t. It would certainly serve a deadly blow to my plans for making GracieMansion my de facto venue for depraved shagging.”
“OK then party boy whatever you say. On another note was there a dress code for your party or are we going for the grossly shabby chic look here?” jeers Valde as he opens a window. “I would like to point out that my emphasis is strongly on the gross.”
“Hey I am being selfish would you like a drink?” asks Alex wholly incognizant of Valde’s jibing, “I am only too happy to share my friends with you.”
“No I am good.”
“You’re good. Great! Ma-zel tov! It’s great that you are good. Maybe one day I will remember what that feels like. I try to remember it, but I just can’t quite seem to get a handle on it.” Alex’ voice seems to fade off into a mutter as he stares into the bottom of his glass, “But hey, on the bright side of things I can see straight through this glass. The image is a bit blurry and stuff appears closer, it’s a bit like looking through a telescope. No, I am wrong, telescope isn’t the word. What is the word I am looking for?”
Valde patronizes, “I don’t know, magnifying glass perhaps.”
“Now who is really drunk here? That’s not one word that was two Valde, however in the absence of the word I guess magnifying glass will have to do.”
“Hold up there Wordsworth,” Valde says to Alex who is in the midst swallowing a nearly full glass of Vodka with one gulp, “don’t you think you have already had enough to drink?”
“Valde my dear strange friend” responds Alex, “Enough! What is enough? By enough do you mean too much? Are you asking if I have had my fill, for that my friend is a good question? I have been asking myself that for about three weeks now. You know, first was the question of what’s next. What wonderfully devious plan is brewing in the shadows? What illustrious and sad sequence of events is yet to unfold? How else would circumstance pull my strings so that I may end up not leaving my apartment for weeks eating and sleeping in my filth? I am afraid to go out because I simply don’t want to know what’s next. Three weeks I have been here, and while I am far from sober, not one day gets any easier. You’re quite right, enough is enough and I have had my fill. What’s the purpose of life? We endure a traumatic if not painful birth, no wonder most of us can’t remember exiting the womb, we go through life trying to find ourselves, trying to build a future by going to school, suffer slavish hours to make a living to buy and maintain lifestyles we don’t need, some cant truly afford, and just when you think you have earned a break through retirement then comes sickness, infirmary and most certainly death. What the hell, all that is if you are lucky, ‘cause what stops the uncertain from happening? In the midst of going about your business you could be struck down by a bullet or a car. My point is any freaking feat of nature could cut your line short and then what was the point of being born to begin with? Can you tell me? Do you understand why I have had enough?”
Valde listens attentively as Alex bemoans his existence and his recent plague of misfortunes like a disheartened soul who has lost his religion. It is now that Valde realizes a very important lesson in being empathic. Here he is truly understanding Alex’s pain, yes Alex has lost both Joanna and Calista, but before Joanna was Alex’ she was his. Once upon a time not that long ago it was Val and JoJo. She was his first great love, yes he was younger, dumber, and more self-absorbed than he is now and perhaps not as in-tuned to her and her needs as he should have been. Yes, to all these faults he concedes, still there is no denying that once she was his everything. His poor treatment of her might have led to the creation of his own bad luck and the Fates denying them having a lasting relationship. Now perhaps due to that same bundle of bad luck the Fates have gone and forever deny him the ability to see her. It’s a loss that he has tried to ignore but by just barely scratching beneath the surface, like he is sitting here doing as a result of Alex’ lamentations, he can’t help but think that if he had been the ideal boyfriend, a more giving lover, less of a jerk, she wouldn’t have cheated, then out of guilt or shame she wouldn’t have felt the need to move to Australia, she wouldn’t have been on that street, she wouldn’t have been hit by that car, she wouldn’t have died. He too wouldn’t have lost her forever. He knows this line of thought is a bit ridiculous, he knows he is not to be blamed. Still he can trace the root of this chain of events right back to himself, and it subtly drives him crazy. So despite his intimate knowledge of what Alex is going through he can’t think of anything comforting to say to him. As he watches the solitary silent tear fall from Alex’ face into his vodka he once more he realizes that words aren’t necessary, just him sitting there, listening and keeping Alex’ company is empathy enough.
Watching the tear fall Valde is not close enough to notice the ripple it created in Alex’ drink, but there was something that did not escape his observation and it lingers at the bottom of Alex’s glass. There it is with its copious glow, submerged but poignant, inaudibly speaking volumes of the tragedy. Finally Valde finds the words, “I am so very sorry. I know nothing I say can bring her back.” He pauses for a second, looking down at his watch, which was a birthday gift to him from Joanna, “I miss her too. I don’t know why things can be so shitty at times. It ‘s as if somewhere someone is pulling our strings putting us through our own personal hell either to see what substance we are made of or just to get a good laugh at us. It can be a cruel existence at times but what options have us, but to lick our wounds, get back up and carry on. I sincerely believe that’s what Joanna would have wanted.”
Alex reaches into his glass for the ring. He holds it up close to look at the solitaire’s sparkle. Turning to Valde he says, “I remember on my flight there, I was so nervo
us. All I kept thinking was what if she says no. I mean we spoke of her moving back to the States, that’s something I was sure she wanted to do. Marriage would have been a huge step for her, for me as well, but I was ready. I wasn’t so sure that she was ready. I came up with all the answers to everything that she could possibly come up with for not marrying me. I was prepared for her, extremely anxious and nervous, but prepared. What I wasn’t ready for was the possibility of her not ever being there again. So the thought never crossed my mind. I ran through the airport like a mad man rushing to get to the hospital. All that while the thought of how I would propose and exactly what I would say kept running through my mind. Now I don’t know if it was anxiety or maybe even sensing that I could be running out of time but all I knew was that I needed to be at her side.” His tears multiply but his voice remains the same, a slight occasional crackle, but overall calm tones, it ‘s almost as if he is totally sober, “Well, you know how the rest of the story goes, no popping the big question, no seeing her and certainly no happily ever after. Sometimes I wish life was more like a fairytale, they always end with happy ever after. Such utter garbage they are if you ask me because you and I both know that there is just no such fucking thing. “
“Yeah if only life was authored by Hans Christian Anderson or the Brothers Grimm, now wouldn’t that be something?” smiles Valde.
“Yes it would be wouldn’t it,” Alex thinks aloud, “Our world would be filled with fabled lessons, merry with happy endings, much better than the ones you get from your little Russian masseuse, but no my friend instead we exist in the real world. I wish I could wake up in the morning to Joanna and Calista and we could live together happily ever after. Valde can you do me a favor and tell me that this is all one big dream?”
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