Life Is A Foreign Language

by Rayne E. Golay

  Nina panted with relief when she heard his deep voice. “Oren, I’m sorry to disturb….”

  “You couldn’t disturb. Something’s wrong, I can tell.”

  “Everything’s wrong.” She told him of the impasse with Michael, of her fear he’d leave her. “I would like to see you if you have the time.”

  “I do. Come right over.”

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you.” Without waiting for his response, she dashed into the bedroom to change.

  All the way to Oren’s Nina was on autopilot, only one thought in her head—Oren would set things right; she trusted him to have the answers she needed.

  The front door to the Center of Light was ajar, so she walked right in to find Oren in the big assembly room. Seeing him scrutinize her, she finger combed her hair, sheepish at the unlikely mess she presented. With an arm draped over her shoulders he led her into his office, pulled up a chair for her to sit and handed her a mug of tisane.

  “On the phone you sounded upset and you look distraught. Let’s cut to the quick. It’s Michael, isn’t it?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but could only sob, so she nodded several times, hands spread in a helpless gesture.

  “No need to despair. It hasn’t been that long, my dear.”

  She glanced at him, tears still blurring her vision. “Five days, counting today.”

  “In your situation it seems like light-years.” He dangled a long arm over the back of his chair. “There’s not much I can do for you right now that time won’t take care of. Do you meditate?”

  “I try to, but my mind wanders.”

  “The important thing is to persevere. You’re suffering and preoccupied, but keep on trying. I’d like to suggest something that may bring you some immediate relief.”

  She leaned close, eager to hear his idea. “Anything to stop this pain.”

  “The Center’s massage therapist is here right now. She should be through in a few minutes with her client. It would do you good to let Mary-Lou give you a massage.”

  The mere idea removed some of Leini’s stress. “In France I often had massage. I love it. That’s a great idea.”

  He smiled at her enthusiasm. “Spontaneous like a child; you flip from tears to laughter in no time. Quite a charming trait.” Nodding, he rose. “I’ll check on Mary-Lou.”

  Nina wiped her eyes on a tissue from the box on the table. She turned as she heard Oren’s voice from the door. “Mary-Lou’s ready for you. Follow me, please.”

  He led her to a room similar in size to his office. The light was muted, scattered candles flickered. The temperature was warm without being stifling. Nina inhaled deeply of the exotic incense. In the middle of the room was a futon, some pillows and blankets.

  A short chunky woman in her mid thirties smiled at Nina, her blue-black hair pulled tight into a thick braid, reaching down the front to her ample bosom. A myriad of wrinkles surrounded her deep-set dark eyes.

  The hand that took Nina’s was warm and soft. “Hi, Nina I’m Mary-Lou.” She nodded at Oren by the door and chortled. “I think you can safely leave her with me now.”

  Nina disrobed down to her bra and panties. Stretching on the futon on her back, she gave herself up to Mary-Lou’s hands and elbows, even heels and knees at times. Mary-Lou worked on her from head to foot. In no time Nina felt the tension leave her. She breathed with ease, her body growing heavy as drowsiness enveloped her like a warm blanket.

  “Turn.”

  Mary-Lou’s voice raised Nina. from a near slumber. On her stomach, she returned to a state of lethargy as Mary-Lou worked on her back, head and neck, all the way down to the soles of her feet, kneading and pulling each toe in turn.

  “We’re done. Don’t move until you feel ready.” Mary-Lou’s soft voice came from far away.

  Nina didn’t know how long she stayed prostrate in a state of well-being. She fell for the seduction of warmth and shelter, prolonging the moment of pain-free comfort. She yawned, stretched, turned on her side. In a haze without her glasses she saw Mary-Lou sit in the ancient Asian position, watching her.

  When at long last she was dressed and opened her wallet, Mary-Lou wouldn’t name a price. “Pay me what you want. I do this for the good it does me—and you—not the money.”

  On her way out, Nina didn’t see Oren. She whispered a heartfelt “thank you,” grateful for his help.

  Driving home, she was drowsy and energized, both at once. Gone were distress, guilt, fear of the future. She felt together.

  When she opened her front door, Nina was met by the beep-beep of the answering machine. The trappings of modern life yanked her out of her lethargy.

  Before she could push the “answer” button, the phone rang. Grabbing the handset, she leaned against the kitchen counter.

  “Hi Nina. This is Michael.”

  Gulping air, she closed her eyes to stop the room from spinning. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t formulate words.

  “Hello. Are you there, Nina?”

  “Yes.” Just a wheeze. She coughed, and tried again. “Yes, I’m here.”

  Over the line she heard him breathe. “I want to see you. We need to talk.”

  Confused, she furrowed her brow, leaning forward. I’ve heard this before. He already said it a few days ago. “Okay,” was all she said.

  “How about if I come over? I could be there in about half an hour.”

  Her mind was racing. If she was at his place and things turned nasty she could always leave. “I’d rather come to your place. If you don’t mind.” Was she planning to run away again from unpleasantness? Hardly; she just needed to protect herself from more hurt.

  “If you prefer to come here, you’re welcome. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  She was about to press the “off” button when she heard him say, “And Nina, drive carefully.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

  Lighted windows welcomed Nina as she pulled into the driveway. Twinkling lights illuminated Michael’s garden. She inhaled the mysterious, enticing scent of his rose.

  Michael opened the front door before she touched the bell. “Glad you came.” He peered at her. “You look good.” With a hand against the small of her back he led her into the den.

  She sank into the generous lap of a recliner while he sat on the couch facing her, a faint smile on his lips, eyes shining.

  Leaning forearms on thighs, he leaned closer. “Since I decided this morning to call you, I’ve been rehearsing what I was going to say. Now that you’re here I can’t remember a thing.” A sigh. “The other day, I said I needed time to think. Five days may not seem like a long time, but enough for me to know two things.

  “The first one is—you need help to resolve your insecurities and fears. The sooner the better. Acting out—running instead of facing trouble—will cause damage if it persists. I’m willing to help you as much as I can and you allow, but you have to stake some action.” He looked at her long and searching. “It’s not for me, but for you, Nina. I’m sure you understand that.”

  “Yes, I understand.” To her surprise her voice sounded firm to her ears. “I’ve figured this out on my own. I’ve started seeing Oren Jones for spiritual counseling. I’m going to his meditation group. Today I had massage with Mary-Lou.” She ruffled her hair. “I’m not telling you this to earn Brownie points, but you should know. I really want to do something about my condition; I can’t remain the way I am.” Saying this, she felt strong.

  He leaned so close she could feel his breath on her face. “That’s great news. You’re in good hands with Oren. If I can be of any help you only need to ask.”

  Her eyes sunk into his, imprisoned her in their fathomless blue. “What’s the second thing?”

  “What?”

  “You said there were two t
hings you wanted to tell me. We’ve covered one. Now tell me the other.”

  “Yes, the second thing is that these days without you have been empty.” He held out his hand to her, palm up.

  Without hesitation she placed her hand in his, and his fingers closed around it.

  “I chose this separation, but I’ve missed you so.”

  She nodded. “I’ve missed you too. It’s been rough.”

  Taking both her hands in his he pulled her to his side on the couch. Enfolding her in his arms he held her, swaying from side to side. “It feels good to hold you near.” He cupped her face between his hands. “Together we’ll make it. You only need to reach out, and I’m here for you. Trust a little and you’ll see, a new life will open for you.”

  Too moved to speak, she nodded. More than anything she desired to feel good about herself, to be whole. What relief no longer to feel a victim of her past, free to look into the future with confidence. With or without Michael, she would make it.

  With a low groan he clutched her to him, caressing her back and neck, crooning softly under his breath. They kissed, sweet, gentle kisses, her hands wandering over his face, fondling his neck, stroking his hair.

  “It’s wonderful to be in your arms.” Like homecoming.

  Sometime later Michael pulled away, stroked his hair in place and with a demure gesture pulled down her skirt to cover her thighs. He glanced at his watch. “It’s past dinner time. You must be starving. Care to go out to eat, or shall I fix us a salad and some cold cuts here?”

  Nina wasn’t in the least hungry. “I’ll take a rain check on dinner. The massage earlier this afternoon and now—us—I’m so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. I really want to sleep. Do you mind if I go home, have a good night’s rest for a change?” She smiled. “I haven’t slept well lately.”

  He hung his head, looking crestfallen, while the corners of his mouth kept pulling up. “I had such extravagant plans for a night of debauchery, and there you go, abandoning me.” His face lit up with a bright smile. “You do look tired.” With his thumbs he touched her lower eyelids “You have dark rings here.” He rose and took her hand. Arms around each other they crossed the den and the living room to the front door. “I hope you’ll tell me about your meeting with Oren.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Will you call me when get home, to reassure me got there safely.”

  The request surprised her. “I’ll be all right, darling.”

  “Call me anyway.”

  “I will.”

  On the short drive home Nina had to make an effort to stay awake, singing out loud “What a Difference a Day Makes,” smiling at the corniness of it and her false notes.

  At the end of that long day she gave a mental nod to an emotion that at best had been episodic in her life—happiness.

  Chapter 33

  The persistent jangle of the phone wrenched Nina out of a deep sleep. Before answering she slipped on her glasses and gazed out the window. The sun was about to round the corner of the house, the sky a cornflower blue. A peek at the clock on the bedside table confirmed her estimate that it was past ten.

  Before answering the phone she cleared her throat not to sound too sleepy, although she felt sluggish. “Hello, this is Nina.”

  “Hi, sweetheart. The phone kept ringing. I thought you’d either gone to work out and I’d missed you for now, or you were asleep.”

  “The latter. I slept close to eleven hours. Can’t remember when that’s happened. I must have needed the sleep.”

  “Good for you. I wanted to hear about your meeting with Oren. Do you mind if I drop by later?”

  “Oh yes, come. I’d love to see you.”

  “I need to go to check on the roses and swing by the office. Around two, how’s that?”

  “Perfect. I’ll have time to wake up, work out and … stuff.” She couldn’t think of anything else she wanted or needed to do.

  Nina placed the phone on the bedside table and stretched like a lazy cat. The twins are coming this summer. Michael’s back. I have a second chance. Life is good.

  While she stood under the shower she vowed she would learn to think before she reacted. She was determined to be vigilant about her emotions so they wouldn’t run away with her mind; those emotions that made her say and do things she didn’t mean, causing pain all around. Going through her chores, whiling away time until Michael arrived, one thought kept recurring as it had in recent days: she desperately wanted to grow up.

  A few minutes to two, heart palpitating, hands moist from anticipation, Nina cast a look through the living room window. Indeed, Michael was just swinging into her driveway. Hurrying to the front door, she held it open. One hand hidden behind his back, he entered and brushed his lips against her cheek.

  “’Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today, and give us not to think so far away …’ he cited. From behind his back he presented a large buquet of yellow roses. “For you, for being so brave.”

  Nina took the flowers and brought them to her face to inhale their perfume. “Michael, darling. Thank you. Did you know this is my favorite rose?”

  “No, but the name is appropriate … Peace.”

  She smiled into his eyes. “What was that lovely verse you cited?”

  “That? It’s ‘A Prayer in Spring,’ by Robert Frost.”

  Her eyes grew misty from tears she didn’t try to hide. She set the flowers on the table and held him in her arms, her body close to his, leaving tears on his cheek. “Thank you, darling. You always seem to know the right thing to say.” She kissed him, moving her lips back and forth against his, tickling the corners of his mouth with the tip of her tongue, excitement building.

  “Oh, my Nina, the things you do. Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

  Laughing low in her throat, she pressed the length of her body against his, closer still. “I hope so.”

  His hands caressed her bare arms, her back. Twining the fingers of one hand in her thick mane of hair, the other stole to the buttons of her dress, undoing them. He moved his moist lips against her throat, down her chest until they found her breast. On shaky legs she moved back, and taking his hand she led him into her bedroom, leaving clothes in their wake.

  When they were through working their magic on each other, the sun had set, the room was dark. She turned on the table lamp and picked the comforter off the floor to spread it over them. Leaning on one elbow, she looked at his face on the pillow. She caressed him with the tips of her fingers, lingering over his brow, the closed lids and the dusky half-moons under his eyes, lips a bit bruised from her mouth.

  “I love you, Michael. I’m sorry I ran away.”

  “It’s behind us now. Let’s forget it.”

  She snuggled close, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her. At this moment, secure and feeling loved, she was at a loss to understand how she could possibly doubt him or his intentions.

  “Did you like Oren?” he asked.

  “Very much. I felt at ease with him the minute I saw him.” She chuckled. “Doesn’t he look like Yogi Bear?”

  Michael hooted with laughter.

  “Hey, that wasn’t so funny. Calm down.”

  He chortled. “It’s very funny. I didn’t make the connection, but you’re right; the similarity is there.”

  “I saw him again yesterday. I was so distraught and unhappy about you and me, I had to talk to him.”

  “I bet you felt better for it. It’s no good keeping things to ourselves. They only fester and pollute.”

  “I used to tell my clients the same thing.”

  Reaching for her purse on the bedside table, she took out the card Oren gave her. She held it for Michael to see. “Do you have one of these?”

  He took the card, studied the front, opened it and read the in
scription out loud: “’Fear knocked at the door. Faith answered; no one was there.’ Never seen one like this. Oren gave it to you, I suppose?”

  “Yes. He said to meditate on this thought.”

  “Then you should follow his instructions.”

  Nina sat, pushed fingers through her hair, left the bed and stretched.

  Michael lay on his back, arms crossed under his head, following her every move. When she grabbed a long-sleeved housecoat off the hook inside the closet, he rose on one elbow.

  “What are you doing? Do you want me to get up, too?”

  “I left the roses on the table. I need to put them in water. Have you had dinner? I’m starving.”

  “I could eat. Something light and delicious.”

  “Stay right where you are. I’ll see what I can scramble together.”

  Nina filled a tall, wide-mouthed vase with water and arranged the roses in it. The result was rich and generous, the flowers glowing like suns.

  In the kitchen she splurged by opening a glass jar of goose liver she’d brought with her from France. From the fridge, she took a bottle of white wine, uncorked it, and left it on the counter to breathe. She made a small tossed salad and toasted bread. Putting everything on a large tray with plates, silverware and glasses, she took it to the bedroom.

  Michael was half-asleep. When she set the tray on the edge of the bed, he sat and leaned his back against the headboard softened by pillows.

  “Hey, what’s this? Looks like a real feast.”

  “This is a picnic in bed, darling. We’re both hungry and too lazy to eat at the table. This will do nicely, don’t you think?”