Lost in His Eyes

by Andrew Neiderman

  ‘For us both.’

  ‘What makes you think I need an escape?’

  ‘You do or you wouldn’t be here. Maybe I’ll get you to tell me what it is that’s after you.’

  He laughed, but I thought he laughed nervously.

  ‘So, where and when?’

  ‘I’ll need a few hours in the morning to pack up what I’ll need and we’ll need. Let’s do ten at the same place we first met, corner of Western and Parker.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Bring warm things to wear. Do you have any?’

  ‘I have everything I need to go anywhere. That’s how you travel when you don’t know where you’re going,’ he replied, and I laughed.

  I heard Kelly coming up, so I said goodbye and began to change into something comfortable.

  ‘We planned two dinners,’ she told me from the doorway.

  ‘Oh. Great.’

  ‘I’m bringing Lexi with me the second night.’

  ‘The purpose of all this is for you to spend quality time with your father. Bringing along a girlfriend will detract from that,’ I warned.

  ‘Really, Mom, we’ll run out of things to say after one dinner. And he likes Lexi.’

  Lexi, I thought.

  ‘Lexi. She’s the buxom one?’

  ‘She hates when anyone points that out, Mom.’

  ‘She’ll get over it,’ I said. ‘And do more to point it out herself.’

  Kelly raised her eyebrows and gave me a half-smile.

  ‘You’re weird. You need that clearing of the mind, all right.’

  I looked at her, wondering again just how sensitive my daughter was to what was going on inside me. When I looked back, she was gone. I changed and went down, expecting to find Ronnie still in the living room, maybe moving on now to television, but he was in his office as usual, diddling on his computer. I stood in his doorway, watching him mesmerized by what he was seeing and reading.

  Of course, it often occurred to me that there was a time before family radios and television when people had nothing but themselves for entertainment. The point I thought we missed about all that was that in those days – the ‘olden days’, as Ronnie puts it – there was little to take you out of your home. Television did more because there was little left to the imagination. You were captured totally in someone else’s imagination, whether it was the set designs, the settings chosen or the lighting and sound to accompany the actors.

  Computers wired you to the outside world in a much more complete way. It was something you did alone. Ronnie tried to get me to go into his office to witness what he was seeing, but for the most part he was oblivious to everything and everyone else around him. He was truly gone for those hours he spent reading emails, sending them, copying and pasting in quotes and jokes, and reading the blogs he favored.

  Did he ever love me as much as he loved all this? I didn’t suspect him of going to porn on his computer. I never saw any evidence of that. It didn’t take away his sexual energy exactly; it took away his attention and the energy to conduct any family socializing. It certainly dampened down romance. Maybe, ironically, marriages lasted longer because people who really weren’t made for each other could put off that realization for years with the distraction. Maybe that was a bad thing because prolonging a bad marriage was worse than cutting it off at the knees.

  I left him and went back upstairs to pack a small bag I would take tomorrow. I sorted out the sundries I would need. I wouldn’t bring any makeup, just lipstick; we weren’t going out in the evening. I packed my best hiking shoes. Then I sorted out my warmest jacket and some sweaters. Ronnie was at his computer longer than usual. I was packed and prepared for bed before he came up, and when he did, he was quiet this time. I heard him smother a laugh, probably recalling an image he had seen on the computer, and then turn away and go to sleep.

  This time I was up quite a bit before both him and Kelly. I brought my bag and jacket down and put it all in my car. Out of habit more than anything else, I put the cereals Kelly and Ronnie liked for breakfast out on the table. I squeezed some oranges for their juice and made coffee, both to get my first cup and to be there for them. Then I wrote a note and told them to have a good time together and that I would call tonight. I told them if they wanted to talk to me for any reason to call my mobile phone.

  I didn’t call my parents until I was finished getting groceries for the cabin. There was no problem getting one reserved. In fact, the place I was going to had none reserved for the next two days. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because I had no intention of even striking up a short conversation with anyone else up there. We’d only leave the cabin to go for our hikes. I had other plans for the rest of the day and night.

  As usual, my mother was surprised to hear from me. She always made it sound as if I hadn’t called for months. My purpose in calling my parents was to give them updates on all of us so they wouldn’t be calling me and have Ronnie realize I wasn’t with them. I would do the same with his parents. When I was finished, I congratulated myself on how clever a conniver I was. I was sure Lancaster would be amused by it all.

  Feeling more energized than I had in quite a while, I headed for our rendezvous point. He was practically standing on the exact spot he had been standing on the first time. He was wearing a tight, light blue cotton sweater with a V-neck collar, similar to one I had bought Ronnie years ago. It made both of them look more muscular. Lancaster’s straight-leg jeans had to have been tailored. I thought he looked younger than he did the last time I saw him. He was any girl’s fantasy lover come to life. Did my being with him make me look younger? I was not only excited but proud I had captured his interest. I pulled up to the curb and he got in quickly, throwing his bag over on to the rear seat.

  ‘What took you so long?’ he kidded.

  ‘Puberty, adolescence, eighteen years of waiting for you and speed limits, in that order.’

  I started away.

  ‘You know, when people are happier, they’re wittier, don’t you think?’

  ‘I think when they’re happier, they’re everything-er,’ I said, and he laughed. He had those perfect white teeth you see in smiles advertising dentists.

  ‘Watch the road,’ he said when the driver of an oncoming vehicle sounded his horn because I had drifted a little too close to the center line.

  ‘Then don’t be so handsome,’ I told him. He sat back, now looking thoughtful.

  I drove on, describing all I had done to cover up for our little adventure. I thought he would smile and laugh and congratulate me on all my planning, but he looked troubled instead.

  ‘What’s wrong? I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘I’m pleased you’re so smart about it, but I fear all this subterfuge will eventually become troubling for you, troubling enough to take away significantly from your joy. Conscience is king, you know.’

  ‘Don’t start getting all moral on me,’ I warned.

  ‘I’m not. I’m thinking how much happier you would be if you had nothing to scratch at your conscience.’

  He wasn’t wrong, but it put me into a darker mood.

  For the next twenty minutes or so, neither of us spoke.

  Were we catching our breath, or were we opening a valve to let all the trapped regrets and warnings come pouring out?

  I don’t think either of us could say.

  More important, I don’t think either of us wanted to.

  NINE

  I followed the sunlight up the mountain. More like a spotlight, it seemed to be leading the way after every turn, glimmering on the large rocks and the road, threading through clumps of trees to bathe us in a welcoming embrace. To me, it was as if Nature herself approved of us, as if we were a natural phenomenon only Nature could understand.

  Then again, all of us read the tea leaves to see what we want them to say. I’m no exception. It doesn’t mean that we read them wrong necessarily, which is why I can live with that sort of dishonesty.

  ‘I didn’t mean to th
row water on our fire back there,’ he said suddenly, as if he saw the same warm welcome in the world we were entering and was just as encouraged. ‘Sometimes, I think we shouldn’t say anything serious to each other. Serious comments take you out of the moment. They chip away at your self-confidence. Neither of us wants to end up like Romeo and Juliet. Forbidden love affairs tend to crash and burn eventually.’

  ‘Yes, even accepted ones often do. I think I’m on the verge.’

  ‘It’s easier for me to say all this. I know that.’

  ‘You really have ties to nothing, not even some religious chains that could constrict you?’

  ‘When I’m with you, I am tied to you,’ he said, ‘and nothing else – certainly not anything in my past. I’m not handing you some line. It’s how I live. I give my all to the present. I have no old voices haunting me.’

  ‘You don’t think about the future?’

  ‘Why should I? It’ll come. And before you ask, no, I never dwell on the past and count my regrets the way some people count their blessings. The past just weighs you down. It’s baggage. For me, it’s as if the world rolls up behind me as I go. If I look back, I’ll see nothing,’ he said and turned, and did so just to illustrate. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I envy you. Probably most people would, even though they might not admit it.’

  ‘I’ve heard that said.’ He smiled.

  ‘That’s a perfect shit-eating grin,’ I told him, and he laughed.

  ‘What I like about you is there is no subterfuge with me. What I see is what I get. Thank you for your sincerity.’

  ‘I don’t know why, but hearing you say that frightens me. It’s like being out there, naked, without a single rationalization or false face. It terrifies me to know I’ve dropped all pretense.’

  ‘Don’t be afraid. You’re not this way with anyone else, and you can trust me.’

  ‘I never trust anyone who has less to lose,’ I said.

  He nodded, holding his smile. ‘What can I say to counter such wisdom?’

  I looked at him with my eyebrows raised. He couldn’t see my eyes behind my sunglasses, but he didn’t have to.

  ‘I’m serious,’ he protested. ‘I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t respect you.’

  He was convincing. I didn’t want to look at him through rose-colored glasses, knowing all along that what I was seeing could very well be untrue, and yet when I was with him, I welcomed my refusal to search for and find flaws. The irony was I was often sickened by the way my girlfriends made excuses for their husbands, even the way I sometimes made excuses for Ronnie. Of course, we were really making excuses for ourselves, finding ways not to look like fools. If one found ways to explain her husband’s infidelity or disrespect for her, all the others would give her a pass, knowing full well they were either in similar circumstances or anticipating that they would soon be.

  Lancaster is right. Stop analyzing, I told myself. Go naked. Enjoy. At least for these two days.

  ‘Have you ever been here?’ I asked, when a sign announced that we had entered Idyllwild.

  ‘Never to stay, but I did pass through it one time or another.’

  ‘You sound like you’ve been everywhere.’

  ‘Well, so many places are so similar that when you’ve seen one, you seen them all. One way to avoid that is to drive cross-country. Have you ever done it?’

  ‘No. Four hours in a car is my absolute limit.’

  ‘Pity. You’d then see how many countries make up the United States. The people are different from one geographical area to the next. It’s actually fascinating.’

  ‘Ronnie has been after me to do that. He’s practically used the same words.’

  ‘Is that the only way I remind you of him?’

  ‘The only way now,’ I replied. ‘And don’t say “pity” again,’ I warned. ‘I blame myself for who I am and where I am, and that includes friends and family.’

  He laughed. ‘Maybe you are too hard on yourself. You can’t underestimate the power of coincidence and fate. They have a lot to do with who and what you are. Look at us. If I hadn’t been standing in that spot in the supermarket and you weren’t distracted, we might never have met.’

  ‘How do I know you didn’t deliberately move in front of me when I wasn’t looking?’

  ‘Same thing as far as you’re concerned. It would still be something you didn’t control.’

  ‘So I’m trapped, no matter what I think or do. Is that it?’

  ‘For now,’ he said. ‘All life’s a maze. You’ll figure a way out.’

  He looked at everything as we meandered down the main street of the mountain village.

  ‘Yes, I did pass through here,’ he said.

  I knew where the specific cabins I wanted to go to were because I had thought about Ronnie, Kelly and me coming up here in the summer. We never did. If we did half the things we talked about doing, would our lives be different, better or worse?

  ‘Sounds like that describes most of what you do in your life,’ I said. ‘Pass through it.’

  ‘Do I hear a little disapproval in your voice?’ he asked. ‘Even a note of bitterness?’

  ‘No,’ I said quickly, too quickly.

  ‘Once you start analyzing and judging—’

  ‘OK, OK. You can’t expect me to shed all my bad habits overnight,’ I said, and he laughed.

  The little note of tension died away, and I turned to look at the village, too, and the few people I saw walking slowly, pausing to talk to each other and glancing our way with some curiosity. I looked at the trees, especially the pine because they held on to their green. There was something elegant about how alive and proud they appeared to me, especially against the trees that had lost their leaves, trees that were defeated by the late fall and winter.

  I lowered the window to let the cool, really fresh air wash around us. The sun was high and because of the altitude made us feel a lot warmer than it was. It was an umbrella of light protecting us against any falling shadows or depression. Our smiles sparkled and glittered. I could feel myself opening up, pushing away the tension that usually lined my insides. It was like being reborn.

  Perhaps my elaborate excuse for getting away wasn’t as false as it first seemed. I really was clearing my mind. I felt as if I would be able to make many important decisions while I was up here with Lancaster. There would be time to meditate. I would cleanse my soul. I would see again.

  ‘Looks authentic,’ Lancaster said. ‘Like the people who live here really belong here and want to be here. In too many places I’ve been, people seem cast in a temporary role. Everyone’s trying out a new persona. The whole country’s got attention deficit disorder. That’s why the moving van business is booming. I have no doubt that once the average lifespan becomes one hundred, marriage will disappear entirely as an institution. Or else marriage licenses will be good for only twenty years.’

  ‘It’s practically like that now.’

  ‘For you?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said.

  ‘Good. You strike me as someone who needs to be completely free.’

  ‘To pass through places with you?’

  He shook his head. ‘That would be marriage with a different name, but a rose by any other name …’

  ‘Is still a rose,’ I finished, and he laughed. I did, too, even though I was half-serious. It’s always better to run away with someone rather than be alone, even if only for a little while.

  I turned off the main street and headed for the cabins. They were set back a few thousand yards from the road. There were about fifteen of them evenly spaced over the property, interspersed by towering pine trees. All the cabins were cedar with brown trim. Each had an outside barbeque and a front deck with logwood chairs and a small bench. Most were two- or three-bedroom, but when I had called for a reservation, the owner, a stern-sounding woman named Betty Lester, said she had two one-bedroom cabins and that one of them had been recently upgraded with new carpeting and appliances. As if she had been negotiatin
g with customers all morning, she added firmly that the price at Lester’s Cabin Retreat was non-negotiable, despite the time of the year.

  Betty had a log-cabin home with an office to the right on entry.

  ‘What do you think?’ I asked when we passed through the main gate built out of wood that had turned gray.

  ‘Quaint,’ he said. ‘Peaceful.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  I pulled up to the office and got out. Lancaster waited in the car. I saw an African American man out in front of the farthest cabin. He was painting some siding. He looked our way, watched us for a few moments and then returned to his work; either the sight of us was too common and uninteresting, or he had more interest in work than people.

  I paused for a moment to take some deep breaths. I felt my lungs clean out. The air was so much clearer at this altitude. When I looked back at the car, I saw Lancaster laughing at me. He seemed to take some pleasure in almost anything I did or said. Would he still be this way if he was married to me as long as Ronnie was? Didn’t Ronnie smile and laugh at little things I had said and done when we were first together? I supposed love, like most anything, could grow stale. Passion could wither like grapes left on the vine if it wasn’t nurtured and attended to regularly. But why think about it? Lancaster was right. Live in the present.

  I hurried into the cabin office.

  It was barely bigger than my bedroom’s en-suite bathroom. There was a small counter, but no furniture in front of it. It wasn’t a lobby so much as a drive-through, a place to register and do little else. The walls were mahogany-stained logs with framed photographs of wildlife – birds, a black bear, geese on a pond, and a close shot of a coyote. It resembled a dog, but the wildness was in its eyes. A well-worn greyish-brown area rug was laid over the hardwood floor. On the counter was a lamp made out of what looked like deer antlers. Behind the counter was a fixture for mail for each cabin and beside it were keys on a mat woven out of what appeared to be straw, but I was sure was something else. Next to it was a miniature dark-cherrywood grandfather clock. The owner appeared in the doorway behind the counter, coming from what looked like a small den or living room.