Love & The Goddess

by Coen, Mary Elizabeth

  “What?”

  “Back in a minute,” I said, getting up from my chair to walk over to the poster. Two women nearby stared at me, then started whispering to each other. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I felt my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I tried to make sense of what I was looking at. The poster featured a painting by Geoff, advertising his new art exhibition “The Goddess” to be held on the twenty-second of November in a Dun Laoghaire art gallery. The painting depicted the Goddess Hekate strolling through a forest at moonlight. It was based on the photograph he had taken of me that day in Coole Park – though with a magnificent wolf-like husky on her lead rather than the labrador dog I’d held. The Goddess Hekate was unmistakably me.

  “What is it, Kate?” Ella had come over for a look. “Oh my God, it’s by that artist fellah, isn’t it? James told me that Lorna’s friend Jennie had been wrong about him being the father.”

  “Come on, we better sit back down. Everyone’s looking at us.” I hurried back across the room to our table.

  “There you go. One Americano and one soya decaf latte.” The waitress placed our coffees on the table in front of us.

  “I don’t understand it, Ella. Why would he use my image to advertise his exhibition?”

  “Well, he must be mad about you, lovey. Damn my sister Lorna and her friends. I’m sorry you had to hear that gossip.”

  “Still, he looked pretty cosy with Myra.”

  “I think you should meet him and talk it out, Kate. If you want, I’ll make contact. I feel responsible for the misunderstanding.”

  “No, don’t, Ella. I shouldn’t have blocked his emails and deleted texts without reading them. But I still don’t understand what he was doing with her since he was supposed to have gone back to Dublin the day before.” I was muddled and embarrassed as I’d convinced myself that Geoff was as bad as Trevor. I felt guilty about having cut him off at the knees before he’d had a chance to explain.

  “Well if I were you, I’d start by unblocking his emails,” suggested Ella.

  I’d promised to call to my parents and stay the night since they wanted to wish me happy birthday. As I drove there, I thought about Geoff and felt flattered by his beautiful painting and quite chuffed that he had chosen my image to advertise his new exhibition on “The Goddess”. Once again, those warm feelings I’d had for him resurfaced yet they were tinged with confusion and a fear that I could possibly lose myself.

  When I arrived at my parents’ house, I found my father alone in the house in pretty good spirits as he watched rugby on television. “Didn’t get a chance to see Saturday’s game, Kate, but got the recording from next door. Some great tries,” he said, excusing himself from any attempt at conversation. I’d just sat down to read a magazine when my mother and Liz arrived in the door, laden down with bags. Liz had left Billy’s a few hours earlier than me and had obviously come straight here to collect my mother for a shopping trip. I followed them into the kitchen.

  “Just back from Dundrum shopping centre, Kate. It was relatively quiet so we had a quick whiz around.” My mother was beaming at me as she set about unpacking her shopping. “Dad and I are delighted with your news. It’ll be great to have you live so close to us. A chocolate cake for you there.” She plonked a pre-packed birthday cake on the table. “Did you find the card Dad and I left for you up there?”

  “No, but thanks.” I took the envelope off the kitchen windowsill – a card and a voucher for a fashion store. “Thanks, Mam. I’ll have no problem getting something nice with that.”

  “And I bought you a couple of little trinkets as an extra memento.” She handed me a distinctive black and white bag with the name “Thomas Sabo” written on it. I glanced at Liz who winked surreptitiously. In a round jewellery box sat two charms. I held up the first one: two silver doves on either side of a glossy red heart dangled on a silver chain. “I knew you’d like it because of your devotion to the Holy Spirit,” my mother said confidently as Liz grimaced behind her back.

  “And I also love the angel. Thanks, Mam. That’s so sweet!” I said, hugging her.

  When my mother had gone to check on my father, Liz said apologetically, “I told her to buy you the silver chain as a choice for your other charms but she insisted on buying you what she regarded as ‘Christian symbols’. I’m sure you can change them.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Liz. I may not be the most conventional Catholic but Christianity is still the gateway to my spirituality even though I respect other belief systems equally.”

  She looked surprised, then said, “You’ve coped really well with your break-up, Kate. I’m finding this thing about Alan being gay very difficult. What works for you as a coping mechanism?” I detected a hint of desperation – I knew she was cynical of what she presumed were my whacky beliefs.

  “I’ve learnt several things, Liz. The first is to live in the now, because the past is irreversible and the future depends on decisions we make in the present. Secondly, I try to meditate every day. It helps me to remain calm, no matter what happens. And the third thing I’ve learnt is that everything happens for a reason and every person we meet has something to teach us, even if we don’t like it.” She was listening eagerly as if trying to memorise what I was saying. “In South America they have a saying ‘In Lak’ech’. It means ‘I am another you’. When I find someone difficult or don’t like them, instead of getting annoyed I now ask myself what part of me I see in them. It’s helped me to have more understanding for others, and for myself.”

  “I find I’m questioning everything lately because we were brought up to believe being gay was a sin and Alan is such a good son. I wish I could be like you. But are you lonely?”

  “It hasn’t been easy. But having time alone has given me the space to learn lots of things. I worry that being in a relationship would send me right back to where I started – that even minor conflicts would unhinge me. I have peace now, Liz, and I don’t want to lose that.” I ran my finger through my hair. “Lonely? Yes, I’m lonely sometimes but I think everyone is, even in a crowd. I’m learning to feel my emotions and not push them away. When I accept that I’ll occasionally feel lonely, it’s no longer so frightening.”

  “I can see how well you cope on your own. You never look sad or pathetic in the way I fear I would. Relationships are difficult and marriage needs constant work to keep it on track. Do you still believe in God?”

  “Yes but I no longer see him or her as the old man sitting in judgement. My connection is better through meditation and I no longer want to define God as solely masculine or feminine, because I believe any definition is too narrow.” I stood up to knock the kettle on and throw two teabags into the pot. “You know, I’ve always loved myths. You do too. It’s not that I believe them. Rather they add to my enjoyment of life and speak to my soul. Walking in nature does the same for me.” I’d taken a risk in being so open to Liz, knowing she was more interested in materialism and status than I was. But I felt she had changed a little over the last few months and she had a great capacity for kindness.

  “Yes, Kate, Daddy really gave us a great gift by reading stories, myths and legends to us. But you definitely have a greater passion for them than me. And I can see how you’d have trouble remaining as you are now if you got involved with a man. Men are so insistent on exact logical definitions. Sometimes they don’t see there are two ways of looking at things.”

  Hmm, I thought, Liz could do with expanding her own horizons. Amazing how much more creative she was after a few drinks – dancing like a dervish and acting out Debbie Harry’s moves while singing. “That’s why the energy of the Goddess is right-brained, involving intuition, empathy and creativity rather than squeezing your brain too hard for a solution. It’s about living in the now and accepting what is. And it’s not exclusive to women. Anyone can tap into it and enjoy life more fully.” I paused before adding, “And Liz, I’m far from perfect. I don’t get it right all the time. It’s a continuous process that requires constant aware
ness so I don’t fall back into old conditioned habits of thinking.”

  Later that night in the privacy of my bedroom, I opened my laptop and logged on to my emails, asking myself out loud, “Will I, won’t I, unblock Geoff?” Pride urged me to forget him, yet my heart told me to be open, so I unblocked him and did a mail search. In came an invite to his exhibition in the Holland Art Gallery in Dun Laoghaire. I felt a shiver of terror course through my veins as I stared at the image of Hekate with my face peering off the screen. I was astounded by the pull of its magnetism and needed to summon up all my reserves in order to resist the urge to phone Geoff.

  I had lost myself once in a relationship and only recently managed to find all my missing pieces and glue them back together again. I feared that I could once again become disintegrated, since it was easier to remain conscious and live in the present as a single person. And I now had the prospect of a new career with a new life in Wicklow. I really didn’t want to push my luck too far. I was determined to hold off and let destiny help me decide.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Leaves danced in shades of copper, gold and russet reds before being whipped away by the wind, the trees now barren, stripped of their former glory. Their fate comforted me as I made several journeys back and forth to Wicklow, feeling my life was mirroring nature as I prepared to allow the old vestiges fade away. I had learnt that it was never easy to leave the past behind, no matter how exciting present and future prospects seemed. Despite my excitement, everyday things took on a slight air of melancholy. I feared I would miss my friends and my life in Galway. I’d miss the smell of seaweed and the taste of salty sea air while walking the prom in Salthill. I’d miss the shop assistants who knew me by name and the hairdresser I’d been going to for the past twenty years. Heck, I’d even miss my dentist!

  My biggest wrench, however, came with the need to shed some of my possessions. Several cardboard boxes remained unpacked from my move to the apartment five months earlier, making it time to finally part with excess clothing and all manner of “things” I’d collected. I had always been a hoarder, holding on to clothes in case they came back into fashion or could be respectably regarded as “vintage pieces’”. After several failed attempts to part with anything apart from the worn and torn, I asked Julie to come and help. That way, she wouldn’t be able to say something like, “Oh no, you should never have given that away!”

  Soon after she arrived, we started sorting the clothes into three lots: the ones I would keep; the “vintage type” clothes Julie would take; and the remainder, which would go to the charity shop or be auctioned on ebay. The process was slow and painful as the first lot grew to three boxes, then four, and I was unexpectedly resistant about the “giveaway lot”.

  “I’d forgotten about this, Mum.” Julie held up a very theatrical coat made with several different fabrics in hues of peacock green, teal, gold and brown. “It’s like an emperor’s coat,” she said, trying it on. “But what on earth would you wear it to?”

  “I think it’s one of those aspirational purchases, Julie. Something I bought after watching Sex and the City. I’d let my imagination run wild, thinking something like that would fit in with my lifestyle and make me feel fabulous. It’s the same with those towering heels I never wear. Anything over three inches really should go.”

  “Yeah, definitely not your sanest moments! But maybe someone else would love them.”

  “Do you know, that’s the best thing you could have said to me, Julie? I can give things away more easily if I feel they might light up someone else’s life.” We both laughed and the sorting gathered speed as we ruthlessly denigrated clothes to the “aspirational but not practical” section and I finally whittled the “keep” pile down to more manageable proportions.

  “You know something, Mum, when you first told me about moving to Wicklow, I found it very hard as it finally dawned on me that you and Dad were never getting back together. But now I think maybe that’s a good thing to help me finally accept it. You’re each so different, I don’t know how you ever got together in the first place.”

  As she spoke I felt a wave of relief sweep over me, and my shoulders noticeably relaxed. I hadn’t realised how ashamed I’d felt for letting her down by ending the marriage. I’d done her a grave disservice by fretting over her inability to cope.

  She went on, “If I don’t end up going abroad to get a job I may decide to live in Dublin. I like the life there. I’m young, I’m open to anything. It’ll be good to have you nearby and I can still go home to Dad for the odd weekend.”

  Listening to her, I realised for the first time how independent she was, a young woman on the threshold of starting her own life. At her age I was planning my forthcoming wedding, thinking I had all the answers. Julie was less sure about where life would lead her and it struck me that the ability to remain open-minded was essential to following the route of the human heart. After all the excessive angst concerning her weight, she was looking healthy and vibrant. She’ll be fine, I thought. After all, she’s my daughter.

  While I prepared to leave Galway I didn’t see much of Ella since she was on the road a lot, acting as sales representative for her company. James, however, had taken to calling most evenings after he finished work. One particular evening he seemed unusually pensive and subdued.

  I said, “Hey, you know I’m not suddenly going to disappear. I’m leaving my furniture here until the end of December, so I’ll be back and forth. And you said you’d visit regularly. Now that you’re single again you’ve no excuse. So no need for the long face.”

  “I know that, Kate, and of course I’ll visit. That’s not the issue.”

  “Well, then …?”

  “Ella and I were wondering had you thought about attending Geoff’s exhibition?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  “And?”

  “I can’t make up my mind. One minute I say ‘yes, I’ll go’ and the next I say ‘no’. I don’t need complications in my life. I’ve been hoping for divine guidance, a sign, but it hasn’t come.”

  “For God’s sake, what are you waiting for? Do you want Tinkerbell to tap your thick skull with her wand, or a hammer more like it? The sign came a fortnight ago when you spotted the poster in a café. What were the chances of that happening? That’s what Carl Jung would call synchronicity.”

  “Strange all right.” I pretended nonchalance. “Being in the right place at the right time sort of a thing, I suppose.”

  James practically wrung his hands. “You have to go, Kate. Don’t you see, you travelled thousands of miles on a personal quest? And yet you’re prepared to leave this question unanswered? Maybe he’s the one.”

  “Hey, you warned me not to rush into a relationship after I left Trevor.”

  “That was then and this is now.” James’s eyes were pleading. “Maybe you’ll just spend a few months dating. So what, if that’s all it is – it could be good for you. It’s just that we all think he sounds like a nice guy who needs you to give him a chance.”

  “Okay, okay! I’ll go. But I might still decide to chicken out at the last minute.”

  As I drove through Dun Laoghaire, I was amazed to see my face staring back at me from posters in every shop window. The invite said seven, so I deliberately waited until after seven thirty to arrive at the Holland Gallery, in the hope I might remain unnoticed in the crowd. As I approached the door I could hear excited chatter rise above Enya’s mystical music. Expensive perfumes mingled with the smell of oil paints, as the aroma of canapés and champagne tickled my nostrils. A middle-aged man of small build, salt-and-pepper hair and a neat moustache greeted me, dressed in a dinner suit. Judging by his demeanour, I assumed he must be the gallery manager.

  “Ah, you’re the famous Hekate! No need for you to show your invite,” he chuckled, handing me a brochure with my picture on the cover. I sighed, accepting that there wasn’t much hope of going unrecognised in this place since my image was plastered everywhere. Maybe I shoul
d have dyed my hair brown before coming?

  I swept my eyes over the small crowd gathered in the outer room. Through an archway, I could see a large press of people thronging the main gallery where I presumed most of the paintings were hanging. I noticed Myra at the edge of the inner room, speaking to two well-dressed men. In an attempt to look goddessy, she’d donned a cream Grecian-style toga with a burnished torc around her neck and matching slave bracelet on her upper arm.

  Thank heavens, there was no sign of Geoff. And Myra hadn’t spotted me. A sign to the Ladies pointed up a narrow stairway on my left; even though I was only in the door, I was already in need of some respite.

  Much to my relief there was nobody in the bathroom. I leaned against a sink and drew in a few deep, slow breaths. I hadn’t expected to feel this nervous. Eager to look at the brochure, I flicked past the introduction to the paintings. I recognised Geoff’s daughter Shannon, who was depicted as Persephone. And Aphrodite also looked like her, but was painted as more mature with chiselled cheekbones. I noticed Artemis’s resemblance to Myra and on closer inspection I spotted that she was also the Hindu Goddess, Tara. Suddenly I felt a twinge of envy and immediately reprimanded myself for being ridiculous. Turning the page I studied Demeter, resplendent in golden robes amidst a fertile field of corn. I had to blink a few times before I realised she was me, with brown hair, fuller cheeks and a considerably larger bosom. So dying my hair wouldn’t have worked after all, I thought, laughing out loud.

  “It’s the first sign of madness, you know, laughing or talking to yourself.”

  I jerked up my head – I’d been lost in a world of my own when the door opened. I blushed when I recognised the blonde teenager as Geoff’s daughter.

  She cracked a warm smile. “I’m Shannon, by the way.” We simultaneously extended our hands for a handshake. Hers was firm and warm despite how fine boned she was.