The first three steps had been a breeze: admitting she was powerless over love addiction and that her life had become unmanageable (it was pretty impossible to ignore how out of hand it had gotten), coming to believe that a power greater than herself could restore her to sanity (she’d done that already, but discussed it more with Joe), and made a decision to turn her will and her life over to the care of God as she understood God (aka: surrender, which she’d done repeatedly every night that week. She hoped that God wouldn’t get sick of her voice.)
Then she hit step four.
Whoa.
This step consisted of making a “searching and fearless moral inventory” of herself.
What an undertaking!
She’d stayed up late working on it, detailing all the things she’d done with men, and brought it with her this morning. Joe was reading it while she did her rounds.
Luna bashed into the thick black punching bag, relishing the slamming sounds her gloves made: the satisfying thuds of leather connecting with leather. She grunted, hit harder, harder. Perspiration seeped into her headband, her waistband, her sports bra.
She hit, hit, hit, until the bell rang.
“Good,” said Joe, glancing up. “Take a drink.”
Luna gripped her water bottle with her bulky red and black gloves. She took a long slug, put the bottle down and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
The sound of weights clinking reverberated throughout the cinderblock-walled, equipment-packed gym. A man groaned loudly. Boom! He dropped the barbell he was holding above his head.
A huge sign on the right-hand wall said: “ellar of pain.”
“What happened to the c?” Luna had asked Joe on the first day.
“That fell off years ago,” said Joe. “Back when this gym was hard-core.”
“It’s not hard-core now?”
Joe shook his head. “They had pails next to the equipment. You could puke in them and keep going.”
Still, Iron Island was no Curves.
The pop music that blared through Iron Island was out of place. An ellar of pain needed heavy metal, or some kind of rock ’n roll at least. But the gym’s owner favored Top 40, past and present. Today a pre-pubescent Michael Jackson wailed soprano: One bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch, Girl.
Also incongruous was the scent of warm chocolate chip cookies floating in the air. There was a bakery next door. The smell wrenched Luna’s stomach, particularly combined with the odor of clinging sweat. “You’ll get used to it,” Joe had told her.
The bell rang again. “On the upper-cut bag. Go!”
Luna pounded away. Joe continued reading.
Bam! Bam! She slammed upper-cuts until the bell rang again.
“What do you think?” she asked Joe.
“This is all very well-written,” he told her.
“Thanks.”
“But it ain’t a pretty little story for Woman’s Day.” He folded the paper up and shoved it in Luna’s gym bag. “Ya gotta dig deeper.”
“Deeper?”
“Forget about sentence structure and get down to the bones.” He grinned maniacally, like The Joker.
“I don’t know what you mean. I wrote about… everyone. What more do you want?”
“It’s not what I want, it’s what you want. Ya wanna examine your motives for doing these things, and eliminate the behavior that triggered your actions so ya don’t repeat them.”
Oh, God. He sounds like Jiminy, Luna thought.
I told you I liked this guy, said Jiminy.
The bell rang, but Luna stayed motionless. “This is too much…”
“No, it ain’t. For fuck’s sake, I did it. So why not you?”
Why not her? “But I don’t know what else to put down.”
“Well, for one thing, I don’t see nothin’ ‘bout resentments.”
“I don’t resent anyone.”
“The hell ya don’t. Think about what your parents did and tell me ya don’t resent them. Not to mention your adoring ex. Feeling all warm and fuzzy about him?”
“Shit.”
“That shit’s poison in your system. Ya gotta get it out.”
She understood.
She felt the truth of Joe’s words reverberating inside her, in places she’d padlocked and forsaken long ago.
She didn’t want to revisit them.
Joe put his hand on her shoulder. “Ya wanna get through this?”
“Yes.”
“Then get it all down,” he said.
“Okay.”
Ding! The bell went off¸ ending the round. She’d missed the whole thing. “You’re not getting off that easy,” Joe said. “Next round, you hit twice as hard.”
Luna nodded.
Joe reset the timer and the bell rang. “On the heavy bag,” he said. “Go!”
Through everything, Luna managed to write. Her next children’s book, which she was reasonably sure would be published since her latest book was doing really well and getting great reviews (the best was when kids Tweeted her and told her they loved it!) and her women’s novel – which was all in blind faith.
But at least she had faith now – even if she had no ending.
She wrote a little bit each day, and included in her daily chats with God a request for divine plot intervention.
The next Monday, she wrote for an hour after the kids went to school. Then she headed to Brooklyn. She was due for a visit with Aunt Zelda.
Zelda’s teeth were out again. Luna spotted the sag in her aunt’s cheeks the moment she walked in the barge’s door. Finding her new set of chompers uncomfortable, Zelda preferred to go au naturel when she was alone. “Dearheart!” Zelda gummily exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
Besides dentures, Aunt Zelda possessed a little memory problem these days. “I told you I was coming on Monday,” Luna reminded her, averting her eyes from the grinning prosthetics resting on a floral imprinted napkin. She tried to pretend they were castanets.
“Oh, is it Monday?”
“It is,” Luna said. “I’m gonna use the ladies room. It was a long trip.” She hoped that Aunt Zelda would pop her clickers back in while she was gone. It felt discomfiting to see her aunt so slumpy. Bad enough, Zelda plodded with a cane these days, when she used to parade. She was the Energizer bunny, finally winding down.
Luna walked toward the lavatory on the floor her aunt had created, using hundreds of interlocking mahogany strips to mask the stark steel beneath. So much work had gone into making Zelda’s vision come true. Even the wood had been ugly until Zelda worked her magic.
Luna thought back to when she was ten. Zelda had sat Luna down on the ratty tan couch in the center of the dark, cavernous room. They were surrounded by second-hand lumber Aunt Zelda had been gifted. It was a repulsive green, like the color hospitals used in their halls. The sofa’s cushions were ripped, and a spring sprung at Luna’s butt. “You really think you can fix this place?” Luna had asked.
Taking Luna’s hand and squeezing, Zelda had looked Luna in the eyes. “Dear Heart, there’s beauty in everything,” she’d proclaimed in her theatrical voice. “You just have to trust that it’s there.”
At ten, that had been easier to accept. Especially when Aunt Zelda had demonstrated, grabbing a paintbrush and dunking it in a can, then spreading clear, thick glop over one of the vile green pieces of wood. Then she’d traded the brush for a flat-bladed tool, scraping away the paint until it was a sticky clump on the floor. The grain beneath the paint was exposed: a warm mix of brown and cream.
“Behold… Beauty!” Aunt Zelda said.
And, slowly, the barge had become beautiful.
As an adult, Luna didn’t see much beauty in the world. Could she somehow find it? Was it really everywhere, in everything? Had Aunt Zelda been exaggerating or overstating… or was it possible that she was just nuts?
Luna didn’t know the answers. She just knew that she had to pee.
When Luna returned, Aunt Zelda’s face was magi
cally lifted. “Sit down, baby. How was the drive?”
Luna scraped a folding chair across the brick floor, sat and rolled her eyes. “The usual.” Driving through Brooklyn on Atlantic Avenue was like enduring a living version of the Mario Brothers video game – each section with hurdles. Under the el, over a bridge, or just navigating stretches riddled with potholes and errant drivers. All that was missing was the electronic music and the bleeping sounds. At the end of the road was Aunt Zelda, an improbable princess in her towering barge.
But Atlantic Avenue beat sitting in standstill highway traffic.
Luna liked to move, even if the ride was treacherous.
Aunt Zelda took a swig of red wine. She was boozing it up quite a bit these days, which allowed for some interesting comments to the patrons of the barge. One day someone said to her, “You’re very famous!”
She’d responded, “Oh, my. I hope I don’t turn into a statue.”
“And how are you?” Aunt Zelda asked Luna now.
Luna told Aunt Zelda she’d entered a program, and had determined to forgo male companionship until she’d worked on herself.
Aunt Zelda raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because I keep attracting jerks.”
Zelda took another gulp of wine. “That’s too bad.” She gave Luna a look of pity. “Darling, you’re a goddess and your standards are high… You’re going to be lonely.”
“Perhaps,” said Luna.
“You know my motto: get in, and get out. Like they say in the music world…”
“I love you, darling, but the season is over,” Luna recited to Aunt Zelda. She’d heard it often enough.
Aunt Zelda reached out her bony arm and slapped Luna on the leg. “That’s it!”
“I’m not cut out that way,” said Luna. “I care too much.”
Aunt Zelda shrugged. “Hey, guess what I found the other day when I was digging through an old box of things?” She reached down to the storage shelf built into the table and pulled out a small pair of Keds canvas sneakers. “Remember these?”
They were Luna’s. White, until they’d been stained red by the Rustoleum Luna had dripped all over them, helping Aunt Zelda paint the roof.
“Dearheart. I couldn’t have built this place without you,” said Aunt Zelda.
“Of course you could’ve,” Luna said. “I wasn’t much help. I was just a kid.”
“It was your heart and soul I relied on,” said Aunt Zelda. “No one’s ever loved me like you.”
“Ditto,” Luna said. She often thought she’d be locked up on a mental ward if not for her aunt. “By the way, have you been to see Dad since his birthday?”
“Oh, poor Lenny.” Aunt Zelda let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, I went over there last week and brought him some pizza. Wow, did he eat it with gusto.”
“Do you think he knows it’s you, and what you’re talking about?”
“Certainly I do.”
“I asked him if he wanted to go to Mars, and he said yes.”
“So? Maybe he wants to go to Mars. Lenny always was a fan of the space program.”
“I don’t know. I can’t deal with him right now. Does it make me a bad person to not visit?”
“Not at all, dearheart. You are human, and must do what you can to shelter your heart.” Zelda gave Luna a slap on her thigh. “All right! Let’s go out on the town.” For Zelda, that meant taking a ride into nearby Red Hook and getting some coffee. She didn’t get off the barge very much these days, so when Luna came they took an excursion but didn’t go far because Zelda always had so much business to attend to.
Luna held her aunt’s hand as they climbed across the barge’s creaky ramp onto the pier, crossed the road and headed into the barge’s parking lot. With her black wool scarf wrapped around her head, Aunt Zelda looked like she’d just escaped from the Cossacks.
Slowly, Aunt Zelda hoisted herself up into Luna’s van and they were off across potholes and cobblestones.
“Lumpy Brooklyn,” said Aunt Zelda.
Luna parked in front of a diner that sold decent coffee and a custard pudding they both loved. Zelda sat in the car while Luna got their order to go. Then Luna drove to a spot facing the river and turned off the engine again. They ate, not saying much, because nothing much needed to be said.
Back in front of the barge, Luna bid Aunt Zelda goodbye. “I can make it back in myself,” Aunt Zelda said, as always. “You just go. Beat rush hour.”
“I love you,” Luna said.
“I love you too, dearheart,” Aunt Zelda said, giving Luna’s arm a good squeeze. She added, “Remember, it’s all there if you can find it… and somehow, you’ll muddle through.”
“Right,” Luna said.
Aunt Zelda creaked open the door and slowly got out.
Then she winked. “Toot-a-loo, Chum!”
THIRTY-THREE
Dr. Gold was holding Luna’s head in his hands. It was Tuesday, spine time.
“Relax,” Dr. Gold said, as usual.
As usual, she attempted to comply.
“A little more.”
She was doing her best…
“A little more.”
He tried adjusting her neck, but nothing happened. She was just too stiff. “A little more,” he said again, with a laugh.
Staring at the fluorescent lights beaming down on her, Luna sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Dr. Gold asked.
“I’m tense about my future.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know what’s gonna happen.”
“No one does.”
“True.”
Crack! Success! As usual, Luna wondered how he didn’t actually snap her neck, because it sure sounded like he did. Dr. Gold said, “If you can take the load of eternity off your shoulders, it’ll be a big release for you.”
“Sounds good…”
“Just ask yourself, ‘Is this something that’s okay for now?’”
“Hmmm…” said Luna.
Dr. Gold settled her head back on the crinkly paper over the cushion. He said, “If you stay in the moment you can’t lose.”
“I try to stay in the moment, but then all these things come popping out at me…”
“That’s your anger. You need to let it go.”
“How?”
“By staying in the moment.”
“Good lord, this is like an Abbot & Costello routine. Who’s on first?”
Dr. Gold laughed again. He picked up her left wrist and pressed into it. He said, “You can’t be angry if you’re living in the moment. Anger runs contrary, it’s a distraction. Does it serve any purpose?”
“No.”
“Okay. So the first step to staying in the moment is to accept yourself for who you are right now.”
Luna considered this. It sounded reasonable. “All right.”
“Then, instead of focusing on specific issues, focus on the process. You’re thinking that if you’ve worked on a problem for x amount of time, it should be solved. But guess what? Life is not linear.”
“Tell that to the math teachers,” said Luna. But she knew there was no straight path to happiness. You had to veer into some pretty dark places, just as Mr. Grotesque at the SLAA meeting and the movie Firehouse Dog had said.
“It’s like coming here,” Dr. Gold continued. “It doesn’t matter what I worked on last time. What matters is what you need me to concentrate on now.”
This made sense, yet she wanted to cry.
She wanted to be done.
“Let’s review rule number three,” said Dr. Gold. Luna looked up at the sign, even though she already knew rule number three was “Everything always works out.”
“Yeah, I’ve got that,” she said.
“Good. Turn onto your side,” he said.
He pressed several spots along her thigh and butt.
“Okay, so if you know everything will work out, you can let go of your issues and live in the moment.” He pressed into a spot mid-thigh. “And when y
ou’re in the present moment, specific issues cease to matter – it’s your state of being that counts.” He sat and perched her right leg over his shoulder. “And you have to have faith that you’re in the right place – that this is where you’re meant to be at this moment.”
“How do I do that?”
“If you’re in the moment, you’re aligned with your higher power.”
Funny how you keep getting the same homilies from different sources, said Jiminy. Another funny thing is how you keep repeating lessons until you learn them.
Luna wasn’t listening to Jiminy. She was distracted by Dr. Gold, who was doing the part she hated most—pushing his finger into the center of her chest. It hurt in such an uncomfortable, squirming way that she felt like there was no coming back from it. “This makes me want to run screaming from the table,” she told him.
“Try not to.”
“It feels like you’re piercing my heart.” He laughed yet again. She really amused him. “Are you piercing my heart?”
“No.”
“Every time you do this it hurts more.”
“That means you need it more.”
He had an answer for everything, dammit.
This was taking forever. She really wanted to bolt. Oh God, the pressure—it felt like her chest would cave in!
She blurted, “What is it? What does this spot mean?”
He looked at her for a moment. Then he said, “It’s an emotional center.”
Then he stopped pressing. Finally.
“I just don’t feel like I’m worthy,” she said.
“Of?”
She thought for a moment. “Happiness.”
Dr. Gold worked on her left forearm. “Are you alive?
“Yes.”
“Do you have a soul?”
“Yes?”
“Do you do your best to be a good person?”
“Yes.”
“Then why wouldn’t you deserve happiness?”
She told Dr. Gold, “Because of what my parents did.”
He asked, “Are your parents God?”
She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “No. They’re not.”
“It’s okay to feel this way right now,” said Dr. Gold. “The key is to accept and embrace the process and work on what your heart says you’re ready for, not what your head thinks logically should be next.”
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