Apotheosis

by Joshua Edward Smith

  Julia typed on her computer. Without looking up, she asked, “How long?”

  “Let’s do two weeks,” Cynthia replied.

  Julia typed some more. “Okay. I’ll get this into the system. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Thank you. I’ll try to wrap up all my open cases today and tomorrow, so nobody has to deal with those.”

  “Sounds good.” Julia looked back up from her computer. “So what are you planning to do?”

  “I was thinking a road trip. Just get in the car and drive south. Maybe go to San Diego along the coast.”

  “Please take me with you,” Julia said with a smile.

  “I’ll be Thelma. You can be Louise,” Cynthia replied.

  Julia laughed. “It sounds like a great idea. We’ll miss you, but I’m sure we can survive. Keep your cell phone on, just in case.”

  “Don’t you dare call me while I’m on vacation,” Cynthia said, narrowing her eyes. Then she smiled.

  Julia laughed again. “Okay, okay. Have fun! Send a postcard!”

  Cynthia stood. “I will.” She turned and headed back to her desk.

  “You in trouble?” Alice asked as Cynthia walked by her cube.

  “No. Why?”

  “I saw you in Julia’s office just now.”

  “Oh, that. I put in for some vacation time. You’ll be on your own for a couple weeks.”

  Alice looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “What’re you up to?”

  “Nothing, really. I just need a break. I figured a road trip down the coastal highway would be fun.”

  “Take me with you!” Alice demanded.

  Cynthia laughed. “Julia just said exactly the same thing. Maybe you and she could do a road trip when I get back.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. “No thank you. Can you imagine?” Alice lowered her voice. “Listening to her go on hour after hour about her beanie baby collection.”

  Cynthia leaned in, “Oh good Lord. You’re right. That would be hell.” She laughed as she settled back into her chair and reviewed her open cases. She felt lighter already. The dream had shaken her. She thought she was over them. But as soon as she had finished excising Evan from her life, there he was again. She felt an overwhelming longing to be with him. To feel his arm around her. It was as bad as it had been after the first dream. Nothing that happened since then had broken the strange bond she felt with him.

  She needed things to move forward, or she needed closure. This perpetual limbo simply would not do. Deep down, she knew that going to see him was the only way to make that happen.

  EIGHT

  Cynthia hoisted her bag into the trunk of her car and put her destination into the GPS. After struggling for several minutes trying to convince her car that it should let her follow the coastal highways down, she finally gave up and turned the damn thing off. She knew the route she wanted to take—101 until it turned inland in northern California, then PCH the rest of the way. She didn’t need a GPS for that. She was in no hurry.

  She didn’t have a plan. This scared the hell out of her, but it was also liberating. She had piled a few books into the passenger seat. Her plan was to drive until she got tired or hungry, and then she would deal with that and drive some more. No reservations at hotels and no reservations about her mission. Clear the mind and maybe go find out what the hell she should do with the second half of her life.

  On her way out of town, she saw a sign offering “Car Detailing While U Wait,” so on impulse she pulled in. The woman who ran the place helped her get her things out of the car, and she cracked open her first book while her car was cleaned. An hour and sixty dollars later, she was on her way in what felt like a brand new vehicle. She rolled down the windows and cranked up the music. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been able to drive with the windows down, since there were always dozens of gas receipts, and parking receipts, and straw wrappers, and who-knows-what-else that would form a paper dust devil in the cabin if she tried. But not now. Now she had the windows down and Melissa Etheridge was cheering her on.

  The first five hours of her drive flew by. She found herself in Coos Bay, Oregon, desperate for a sandwich and to stretch her legs. She found a little deli downtown that packed her a nice picnic, and she headed to the Cape Arago State Park to eat and take in the views. She had her lunch on the grass and read some more. Then she cleaned up and headed out to explore. After a short walk, she found herself looking at the ocean, bashing itself repeatedly against a rocky outcropping.

  I know how you feel, ocean. She thought.

  She closed her eyes and felt the wind against her face. She imagined Evan standing next to her, arm around her waist, breathing this air with her. She missed him. She was eager to see him, but also scared to death of what would happen when she did. She knew that things could come crashing down, leaving her rudderless. But she also knew, in a deeper, more spiritual place, that wasn’t her destiny. She knew her destiny was to be with him. It would happen. She didn’t know how—only that it would.

  She opened her eyes and marched back to her car. She figured she had about five hours of drive in her before she would need dinner and sleep, so she looked at options on her phone. Eureka, California was about the right distance and had a bunch of hotels and B&Bs. She started calling the B&Bs in the order of their Yelp reviews and found a room at the third place. She put away her phone, started the engine, and turned the music up.

  The drive to Eureka didn’t go as quickly as the first leg of her trip. The scenery was wonderful, and she liked how she would see the ocean now and then, but she was physically tired. She made decent time and was there in only four hours. She found her lodgings and checked in. The room was nothing special, but it was clean and homey, and the bed was comfortable. She took a shower and changed into something a little nicer for dinner. The town had the feel of a place where yoga pants wouldn’t get a second look, but she wanted to wear a dress.

  On the advice of the innkeeper, she walked a few blocks to a small restaurant and parked herself at the bar. It was still early, and the place wasn’t crowded. The bartender proved good company, and she briefly thought about inviting him back to her room after closing time. But she decided it wasn’t going to be that kind of a trip. She ate well and held herself to only two glasses of wine.

  She found her way back to the B&B and into bed. She tried reading but wasn’t able to keep her eyes open. She relaxed into the pillow and chastised herself for not picking up the bartender. She hadn’t had a good lay in ages, and he was nice. Oh well. Next town.

  ¤

  “It’s so beautiful here,” Evan said, his arm around Cynthia, keeping her warm against the ocean breeze. “I’m glad you showed me this place. Thank you.”

  Cynthia leaned into him. “You’re welcome. When I was here I imagined you next to me, just like this. Well, actually,” she stepped around him to his other side and leaned into him again, “like this.”

  Evan laughed. “Perfect. It’s so peaceful here.”

  “It is.”

  “So what’s the deal with that bartender?” he asked.

  “Oh, it was just a brief infatuation, I guess. I don’t know. I’m on this road trip, free of everything—free of my moorings? I don’t feel constrained by what I should do. And I guess that extends to my moral compass.”

  “Well I don’t like it,” Evan said, looking down at her.

  “I didn’t sleep with him,” Cynthia protested.

  “Does that matter?”

  “No. I suppose not. You’re right. I shouldn’t have even entertained the idea.”

  Evan stepped in front of her and leaned down to kiss her gently. “Trust is important. Fidelity is important. I need to know that I can trust you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” she said.

  He moved back to her side and they watched the waves awhile.

  “But what about you? What about that author? What’s her name,” Cynthia said.

  “What about her?”

  “Why do
esn’t it go both ways? Why don’t you have to be faithful to me?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said.

  “‘Things are getting pretty serious,’ she told our reporter.”

  Evan laughed. “Oh! That! Oh that’s nothing. Her publicist invented that whole thing. She thought it would be good for sales. The woman on the back cover sleeping with the man on the front cover. It’s a strong narrative.”

  “A strong narrative? Who even says things like that?”

  “Her publicist, apparently,” he said.

  “So it was just a stunt? You aren’t dating her?”

  “Right. I’m not. She isn’t my type at all.”

  “What’s your type?” Cynthia probed.

  “You, of course.” Evan suddenly swept his hand behind her knees and lifted her like a groom carrying a bride across the threshold.

  “Oh my! What are your intentions, Mister?” she asked.

  Evan looked down at her and smiled. Then he walked forward slowly over the edge of the cliff.

  Cynthia sat up with a start. She looked at her phone. Four in the morning. Her heart was racing. She settled back into her pillows and stared at the ceiling. Her pulse slowed and she closed her eyes to get a little more sleep.

  ¤

  Cynthia woke up a few hours later and spent some time playing with the navigation app on her phone. She decided to split the remainder of the trip into two parts. Today she’d pick up PCH and go as far as the Point Reyes National Seashore. She figured she could get there in one long stretch of driving and then spend the afternoon exploring the park. She consulted Yelp, and called each of the Point Reyes area inns listed in ratings order, until she found one with a vacancy.

  The B&B host prepared crêpes with strawberry yogurt and fresh strawberries, which Cynthia enjoyed thoroughly before hitting the road. She spent the entire drive thinking about possible futures. First, she explored the idea of what she would do if things with Evan worked out the way she hoped. She thought about how she could probably get a job doing what she did now, but then considered that it probably wouldn’t matter whether she worked at all, since Evan was a plastic surgeon. She could probably fill her time by supporting him in his job, doing charity and volunteer work, and whatever else the wife of a plastic surgeon did.

  Of course, it was a long way from where she was now to being his wife. She considered what she would do in the meantime. How could they date when she lived so far away? They did have such good rapport when they chatted online, she considered that was a possibility—start that back up, with the occasional in-person visit, and eventually he would be so in love that he’d ask her to move in.

  The other alternative would be to move closer, but from what she knew about the price of housing around Malibu, she didn’t think that was possible. She’d have to live someplace more affordable, which would mean seeing him in person would be nearly as difficult as if she had to fly down. No, that didn’t make sense. They’d definitely have to do the long-distance thing until she won him over fully.

  She then allowed her mind to explore the other path things could take. What if it didn’t work out? What if the spark she felt online and in her dreams didn’t happen for one or both of them in person? What would she do then? She did not want to end up like Alice. She was certain of that. Living out her days alone, going to a job she didn’t like, drinking a half a bottle of wine a day, and then sweating that off with the same yoga workout she’d been doing for twenty years. That was not her destiny. It couldn’t be. If things didn’t work out with Evan, maybe there was someone else.

  She shuddered at the thought of dating again. She had read about Tinder, with the swiping based on first impressions and hookups being the ultimate goal. That was beyond uninteresting to her—she found the idea revolting. But more traditional online dating might be okay. She hadn’t been with a man since the divorce. She never had the courage to even try. But her time with Evan had definitely shaken something loose. She was ready to feel a man’s arms around her again, even if they couldn’t be Evan’s. But more than anything, she wanted them to be his.

  She thought about standing next to him, taking in the ocean. How safe she felt. How warm and protected and loved. Although the end of the dream was… weird. She didn’t know what to make of that. Was it like an omen? Everything in her dreams felt like an omen. But that sequence of events—him sweeping her off her feet and them plunging to their deaths over a cliff—that felt like the Death card in Tarot. She had read that the Death card usually didn’t mean literal death. It meant change or transformation. Something big, but not necessarily something bad. That’s how her dream felt.

  Maybe he was literally taking the plunge with her. As in marriage. That’s what she wanted. After the divorce, she was reasonably sure she never wanted to be married again. But now things were different. If Evan was the soul mate she suspected he was, she wanted to be his wife. To grow old together. She could learn to play golf—all doctors played golf, right? They could go to the opera and the symphony. They could work together in the garden and take yoga classes together. Take long bike rides along the coast. She envisioned it all. This life she saw… it was perfect.

  She let the thoughts drift away as she navigated the last few miles to the inn. She parked and was awe struck at the beauty of the place. She got out of her car and stretched her legs. She was too early for check-in, but figured the hosts would be able to point her at a good option for lunch. She left her bag in the trunk and grabbed her purse for the short walk to the lobby.

  The innkeeper was a lovely older woman who insisted that she join her for lunch in the kitchen. Before long she had opened Cynthia up and was listening in rapt attention to her whole story. The dreams, the online chat, the Lego Death Star, this trip… all of it. Cynthia had no idea why she felt so comfortable telling all this to a complete stranger, but thought maybe it was precisely because she was a complete stranger. After lunch, Cynthia and her new friend explored the gardens around the inn while a worker brought her suitcase from her car. Then Cynthia headed out to the national seashore to explore, promising another round of gossip when she got back, possibly over dinner.

  NINE

  After a long day of exploring the park, Cynthia stopped at a wine shop and found a local cabernet/merlot estate blend that had a high Wine Spectator score. She presented it to Emma, the innkeeper, as thanks for inviting her to lunch.

  “Perfect!” Emma declared. “This will go great with the lasagna I have in the oven. Come on!” she grabbed Cynthia by the wrist and pulled her into the residential quarters, toward the kitchen in the back.

  “Hold on! I wasn’t trying to weasel another invitation out of you!” Cynthia protested.

  “Are you kidding? I love the company. I’ve eaten most of my dinners alone for years now. Since Phillip passed.”

  “Your husband?”

  “Yes,” Emma explained. “This was his dream,” she swung her hands around. “It wasn’t mine, but I supported him, and now I’m stuck with it.”

  The front desk bell rang, and Emma excused herself to attend to it. Cynthia settled down onto a comfortable chair and waited, taking in the decor.

  “Sorry. I really don’t understand people,” Emma said, coming back into the room. “They have Google. They have Yelp. Yet they still think it makes sense to ask a seventy-five year old black woman where they should go for gluten free sushi. My Lord, people are idiots.”

  Cynthia laughed. “Yikes. At least you love your job!”

  Emma laughed along with her and went to the kitchen. She came back with a corkscrew and two glasses. After decanting the wine, she handed Cynthia a glass. “Cheers! I’m a little ahead of you, mind. I like to dip into the sherry a little. Julia Child style,” she said with a wink.

  Cynthia moved her glass slightly toward Emma to indicate a toast and took a sip. “Oh! This is good!”

  “I agree,” Emma said, taking a chair across from Cynthia. “I was thinking ab
out your story, and I have a couple questions. Dinner needs at least a half hour, yet. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I am! I walked miles today. Are you really seventy-five?”

  “I know, I know. I don’t look a day over seventy-four,” Emma joked.

  “I was thinking more like sixty,” Cynthia said.

  Emma laughed. “Well thank you. But you aren’t getting into my pants, so stop trying to flatter me, honey.”

  Cynthia laughed. “You are so funny!”

  “So here’s the thing I’m not getting about your story,” Emma said, leaning forward. “You are heading down to see him, to try to sort things out, hoping he falls in love and marries you. I get all that. But didn’t you say he has a girlfriend?”

  Cynthia sipped her wine and then shrugged dramatically. “I have no idea.”

  “But the papers said he did, right?” Emma probed.

  “They did. But it doesn’t make any sense. He and I were chatting online almost every night for hours. I can’t see how he could have a serious relationship with a woman but be spending all his time with me. It makes no sense. Plus, he straight out said there wasn’t anyone when we first started talking.”

  “Okay…”

  “And then, I know this makes me sound crazy, but in the dream he told me the publicist made that up.”

  “That’s not the part that makes you sound crazy, honey. I know you’re crazy. But I also know that dreams are a powerful thing that we don’t begin to understand. I’ve been around a long time. I’ve seen some shit. I don’t presume to understand what the Good Lord is up to. He works in mysterious ways, as they say.”

  “Amen to that,” Cynthia agreed.

  “Amen! So I get it. You think he’s talking to you in your dreams. And who am I to say he isn’t? And I see what you mean about how could he have a girlfriend and still be spending all that time with you. That makes sense.”

  “That’s what I think, too. I think it’s got to be a misunderstanding of some kind.”

  “But why didn’t you just ask him?” Emma probed.