Addicted to the Light

by S. E. Amadis

  “Well, but......” Lindsay sputtered. “But, I wanted something spiritual. And all put together. Some sort of community, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think you don’t know what the hell you want,” Calvin exclaimed.

  “Well.” Lindsay lifted her chin slightly. “Well. So maybe I don’t. But...... but I know I’ll know what it is when I find it.”

  Calvin humphed.

  We strolled towards the bus stop.

  “Why don’t you buy a car, Linds?” Calvin commented all of a sudden. “Surely with what you must be earning at the real estate agency now, you could afford it.

  Lindsay bit her lip.

  “Not yet. I haven’t been there long, and with me still being on probation and all, I’m afraid I can’t justify such an expense yet. But yes.”

  She nodded, thoughtful.

  “I suppose I could look into getting one soon. Then I wouldn’t be limited to just showing properties near the office. I could take on places all over the city.”

  She sighed.

  “You can see why I’m looking for something, don’t you? Something that would make me feel whole. Real. Like I belonged somewhere.”

  She made a face in the direction of her mother’s house.

  “Because you can be sure I sure don’t feel like I belong there.”

  Chapter 5

  Lindsay plonked herself in the middle of my office and whirled about in circles, lifting the hems of her bright red pencil skirt.

  “Whoo whee, some set-up you’ve got going here, hon,” she cried, her face lighting up. “Well, you deserve it. After bowing to the beck and call of boring, tyrannical bosses for so many years.”

  “Most of them weren’t tyrannical at all,” I butt in. “I’m grateful to most of them. They put food on my table during all these years.”

  “Ha! Truth is, they couldn’t’ve got by without you.” She smirked a smug grin of satisfaction, then fumbled about in the pocket of her scarlet suit.

  “I can’t get over seeing you as a real estate agent,” I said, gasping. “You’re a hippie. You’ve always been a hippie, ever since we got out of high school.”

  Lindsay giggled.

  “Well, my embroidered peasant skirts with frills and lace are still sitting in my closet somewhere, just waiting for me to dust them off on weekends. Ah, here it is.”

  She snatched her hand out of her pocket and clanged something weighty onto my desk. I gaped at the full set of car keys complete with the silver Honda logotype on sturdy black. A second later I was seizing her by the shoulders, and we both started jumping up and down and shrieking.

  “You got it! You finally took the plunge and got it.”

  Lindsay nodded, her grin splitting her face from ear to ear.

  “Yeah. Wanna go for a test run?”

  I glanced at the clock on my mobile. It was only the middle of the morning and I didn’t want to miss any potential clients. Well, I didn’t have any clients yet. But I also certainly didn’t want to miss any.

  The office had sat empty the whole month, but I would’ve bet a month’s salary (which at this point in my life was nil at any rate) that the moment I waltzed out the door, my very first client would be making his way up in the elevator. Murphy’s Law 101.

  I grabbed my handbag.

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Out on the street, I stood back and admired the sleek lines of her brand new silver Honda Civic. She leaned against the rooftop and drummed her fingers on the flashy metal.

  “Did you have to get a loan?” I asked, decidedly more than a little envious.

  Lindsay shook her head.

  “Nah-ah. Paid for in full in cash. From my savings. It’s not new, anyway. It’s second-hand. Even if it doesn’t look it, does it?” she added.

  “You’re making that much in real estate now?” I gasped in surprise.

  “Nah. I’ve been saving up over the years.”

  “Working as a waitress gave you enough money for... this?” I couldn’t get over the transformation in my bestie.

  Lindsay shook me by the shoulders.

  “Absolutely forbidden to even mention my former profession, eh, lassie. I’m a real estate agent now. I work in an office. Like you.” She smirked again, then motioned towards the door. “Well, what’re we waiting for? Hop in.”

  Although Lindsay had never owned her own car, she handled the wheel like a pro. We spun about the city for a bit, then she grabbed the Queen Elizabeth Way and swung out into the open suburbs.

  “So, where do you fancy heading off to? When was the last time you were down in Niagara Falls?”

  I gasped some more.

  “Lindsay! I-I can’t,” I sputtered out. “It’s the middle of a work day.”

  Lindsay cackled.

  “Yeah, but you don’t have a boss over you anymore, do you? Forcing you to hang about the office all day. You keep your own hours now. Got to be some perks to being an en-tre-pre-neur.”

  I pumped my jaw up and down.

  “But... but what if a new client shows up or something, this morning?”

  Lindsay stuck her tongue out at me.

  “Do you have any new clients right now?”

  I shook my head, contrite.

  “Besides, don’t you have a mobile and email? That people can use to get in touch with you if they’re really interested in your services, I mean?”

  “And... and what about Romeo? I’d love to bring him...”

  Lindsay rolled her window all the way down, letting the breeze rush through her flaxen curls.

  “Whee!” she screeched, then turned to me, dodging cars skilfully as she fixed her gaze fully on me. “Look, Ansie. I understand your attachment to Romeo. Really, I do. I understand how both of you nearly died, and now you don’t want to waste one single precious minute that you could be spending with him. But he’s with Calvin, right? He’s perfectly safe. And you’re your own person. You need your space, time to be on your own. To just be Annasuya Rose Adler, and not just Mom or Mimi or whatever Romeo likes to call you these days. Nope. Today, we’re going to enjoy a girls’ day out and we’re going to have a thoroughly freaking good time, and you’re not going to worry about a thing. You’re not going to fret because you don’t have any clients yet. If it makes you feel better, why don’t you call Calvin, tell him you might be a bit late today. Okay?”

  In the end I caved. Of course I did. I’d never in my life been capable of resisting any brand new adventures with Lindsay. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d stepped foot outside of the grimy city.

  Just too bad I couldn’t foresee the terrible, dark places this new adventure would lead us.

  Chapter 6

  The town of Niagara Falls — still modest in size despite its world-renowned landmark — was only about an hour’s drive away. We parked and dashed to the quaint riverside promenade with its ornate, wrought-iron balustrade over the water and the crowds of tourists jostling for space on the narrow pathway. The ceaseless lull of waves tumbling into the river below was hypnotic as we strolled towards the famous landmark. It was like listening to the sea pounding against the sand, except without any respite in the sound. I wondered how the local residents dealt with this non-stop roar day and night.

  “I haven’t been here since I was a kid,” I cried, giggling. “Immigrant parents work hard, but they don’t take much time for fun, I’m afraid.”

  “I thought your dad was all about fun,” Lindsay commented cynically.

  I knew she was referring to how my father had taken off to the other side of the earth with his new wife after the death of my mother, and cut off all contact with me.

  “My mother worked hard.” My tone was defensive. “And in those days, my father did too.”

  My mother had been the daughter of Polish Holocaust survivors, born and raised in post-war Paris. Fun and relaxation were concepts that had simply never entered her vocabulary.

  Lindsay shook my arm.

  “Well, we’re goin
g to change all that. You’re a smart and chic businesswoman who works hard. And you’re also one who knows how to enjoy herself and make good use of all the money your biz brings in.” She chuckled.

  “What money?”

  Lindsay rolled her eyes.

  “You’ll see. All new businesses go through their ups and downs.”

  “How would you know?” I batted at her. “You’ve never owned your own business.”

  “Come on. Take a walk with me underneath the falls?”

  I ogled at her.

  “That’s possible?”

  Lindsay giggled again.

  “What? You didn’t know? You didn’t go there with your parents?”

  I stuck my arms out over the metal railing and waved at the misty air near the falls.

  “Is it free?”

  “Course not.”

  “Explains why my parents didn’t take me. We weren’t exactly rich, you know. Immigrant parents do work hard, but—”

  Lindsay batted at my arm.

  “Yeah, you said that already. Well, we weren’t exactly rich either. But it’s not that expensive. Even you, who has no clients yet, can afford it.”

  “Did your parents bring you as a kid?”

  I tried to remember back to high school, where Lindsay and I had first met, and think whether my friend had ever mentioned what her parents did for a living. Now that the subject had come up, I realized there were still so many things I didn’t know about my best buddy.

  Lindsay seized me by the arm, cutting into my thoughts.

  “Come on, let’s get going. I’m telling you, you have never. In your life. Experienced anything quite like a thousand tonnes of Niagara Falls just cascading in chunks all over your head. It’s powerful beyond words. It’s just breathtaking.”

  “You sound like a walking ad for the Tourist Board.”

  Lindsay nudged at me.

  “Come on. People travel halfway around the world to experience this. And you have it practically on your doorstep.”

  I glanced down over myself.

  “And I’m wearing a new suit...”

  Lindsay shrugged and tossed her hands in the air.

  “So’m I. But that’s why they give you rain ponchos.” She grabbed me, dragging at me with impatience. “Come on. You’re running out of excuses, silly girl.”

  I sighed and admitted she was right. I was making excuses. I realized I’d inherited my parents’ Puritan mindset and survival-mode instincts. Instincts which had never allowed them to relax for even one day. That told them that if they allowed themselves to slack off for even a few hours, total disaster would strike. Even now I couldn’t help feeling my heart flutter at the thought of all the imaginary clients I was surely losing by bumming about around here with Lindsay.

  “How come you can do this, Linds?” The thought struck me all of a sudden. “Aren’t you supposed to be showing houses or something?”

  Lindsay waved her hands about.

  “Haven’t got no appointments today. Come on.”

  She lured me towards some slick, modern building shaped like a Swiss lodge, surrounded by brightly-coloured flowers in every hue of the rainbow.

  “That’s the entrance to the tunnels beneath the falls.”

  *

  We teetered out a couple of hours later. I had to admit that the activity had left even stalwart me, who thought I’d experienced every harrowing experience it was possible to endure, moved and impressed. Once upon a time apparently it used to be possible to actually stand underneath the thundering water. Today, the access tunnels were closed off. But I could still catch an inkling of what it must feel like to burrow yourself up right underneath the tons and tons of one of the greatest waterfalls on earth.

  Lindsay cracked a grin of mischief.

  “Welcome to my world, bestie,” she cried. “About time you learnt to let your hair loose. I’d always admired you at school, catching all those straight A’s and all. But truth is, I thought you never got to have a whole loada fun. You were just such a flat-dragging goodie-goodie. And you sure didn’t know what you were missing out on, what with your parents dragging you off to shul all the time and all—”

  “My parents never dragged me off to shul,” I cut in, referring to the religious Jewish schools I’d frequented as a youth. “I went because I wanted to go. My mother never went. And my father... Well, my father was about the closest thing to an atheist you’d ever find—”

  “A hedonist.” Lindsay’s voice was hard. “I like to call a spade a spade and your father was a hedonist. Not an atheist.”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” After the thrill and rush of feeling the waves pelting against my skin, all of a sudden I found Lindsay’s cynicism dragging me down, taking all the joy out of our excursion. “Look, Linds. I’m hungry and I don’t feel like talking very much. What say you we dig out someplace to eat?”

  Lindsay hooked her arm through mine.

  “Lead the way. Got any ideas where to go? Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t get out here very often myself...”

  We wandered through the streets of what struck me as a strikingly quaint village with only a cluster of high-rises once we actually got away from the narrow touristy strip near the falls. Alluring restaurants enticed us, but most were either filled to the brim or sported the names of fast-food chains rife with nasty, cholesterol-laden fare.

  As if lured by some invisible force, we ended up stumbling into a residential neighbourhood. On one corner, almost entirely concealed by leafy oaks and willows, Lindsay made out a handmade sign that proclaimed something along the lines of “ecological something” and “homemade something”.

  “Geeze, how the hell do they ever expect to get any customers tucking their sign away so well hidden behind all those big trees?” Lindsay exclaimed in exasperation.

  But this very awkwardness in public relations was precisely what drew us to this place. Lindsay pushed a way through the strands of willow and lush oak canopies and pulled me towards a wooden cabin with the words “Green Thumb” printed across a beam at the doorway, painted in shaky crimson handwriting.

  “Whoo whee. They mustn’t get a huge crowd over here.” She tugged on the handle of the rustic wood door.

  A young girl in her early twenties greeted us with a smile and led us to a trestle table in a corner of the deserted establishment. She was dressed from head to toe in cotton calico, and her long skirts almost trailed on the floor. A perky, old-fashioned bonnet covered her skinny blonde plaits. She plunked a menu, also written by hand, in front of us.

  Lindsay ordered roast quail smothered in some sort of homemade garlic sauce while I contented myself with quiche. The quiche was delectable and spongy, like chiffon. It nearly melted in my mouth.

  “Mmmhh, this is not frozen food,” Lindsay exclaimed with her mouth full, gesturing with her fork at the meat. “No idea how they made it, but they couldn’t have roasted this any earlier than this morning. Wonder how they knew someone would’ve ordered it.”

  The girl passed by and beamed at us.

  “I hope you’re enjoying your meal.” Her grin was broad and cute dimples shot out in her cheeks. “We didn’t know if anyone would order this. But food never goes to waste in our community. Whatever doesn’t get consumed here in our restaurant is taken back to the community and served the next day.”

  “Community?” Lindsay arched her eyebrows in interrogation, but the girl didn’t enter into very much more detail.

  “We’re an ecovillage that strives to maintain ourselves the best we can through the use of our own handicrafts and talents, and whatever the land can give us,” was all she would say. “Everything you eat here in our restaurant has either been grown ecologically, or hunted out in the wild. We use no pesticides, no chemicals, no artificial or toxic hormones.”

  “Whatever the land can give them?” Lindsay scoffed as soon as she moved out of earshot. “Wonder what the land gives them during eight months of winter a year.”

  All t
he same she devoured her food with relish.

  “Yeah, what I was saying. You sure never learnt to let your hair down with those frummy parents of yours.” She continued with her unpleasant habit of chomping her food with her mouth wide open.

  “Close your mouth,” I told her automatically. “And my parents weren’t frummy,” I added, defensively, using the informal term for a strict Orthodox Jew. “My mother was traditional. But my father was about as frum as... well... you.”

  Lindsay threw her head back and guffawed heartily.

  “Me? Well I was born and bred a plain-talking, no frills Protestant. And we only went to church when someone was born and needed to be baptized, or for weddings or funerals. Some community, that. I don’t even know where my nearest church is.”

  She stuffed a piece of quail into her mouth, dribbling gravy over her lips. She swiped it off with her fingers.

  “You’re so lucky. I hear Jewish communities are real close, and you always help each other out, and stand up for each other when things get tough.”

  “We did... when I used to belong to one. Lindsay, do you know how many years it’s been since I last stepped foot in a shul? I’m like you, girl. I’ve turned my back on religion too.”

  I tapped my foot at the table legs.

  “I couldn’t help it. For me, religion was my mama, and my mama was religion. When my mama left the world, religion died too. I don’t know if I’m explaining it real well. I mean...”

  I sighed. Some things just couldn’t be explained. There were some things I didn’t even understand myself, for that matter. But Lindsay nodded sympathetically.

  “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

  She stuffed more quail between her lips.

  “But don’t you feel, like... sorta like, bereft? Now that you don’t belong to a community anymore, I mean?”

  I shook my head.

  “Nope. I’m happier than ever. I’ve realized I never really cared for religion. I just wanted my mama. I didn’t see any point in celebrating Hannukah and Purim and all that shtuck all by myself, it just made me sad. They’re the loveliest things in the world when you share them with someone you care about, full of meaning and tradition and, well, just sharing. But all by yourself...” I paused. “When I was all alone it just made me miss my mama so much more. I mean, to me, my mama was Hannukah, and Purim, and... Well, and then when Eli died...”