`"It's a barbecue, mom."
"So, we'll include some catering. It'll make it easier for everyone. I'm friends with Nat, the caterer from down the block, he'll give me a good deal. It'll be my contribution. Let me make the arrangements. You'll have nothing to do."
Sara hung up the phone feeling dismal, hoping the heavy rain clouds that had hung over the house all afternoon would burst into a violent summer storm.
* * * **
The next days passed quickly. Sara tried to put Arnold out of her mind, and enjoy the long, sultry, days which were blanketed by stretches of blue sky. In the evening, light bursts of summer rain washed away the heat. She tended her garden which grew incredibly, huge sunflowers reached almost six feet tall. They swayed daringly in the sun, protecting the rose bushes that crept up the vines.
Thankfully, Sara's shed also waited in the back. There were the last minute touches to put on her work. Cool and moist, the clay waited with no reservations, demanded nothing, and gave itself fully in return. She could think of nothing better to do right now. She paused when she entered the shed, looking over an essay she was writing for a potter's newsletter.
What concerns Raku potters most is our sense of form and beauty," it began, "how we need to establish a new connection to truth. My particular concern is with transformation. Fired in a kiln, clay changes its character. From plastic, it becomes rigid. It turns to stone. It then becomes useful in many ways, as bricks, bowls, vases, sculpture. But the change is more than physical. The clay comes out of the fire in a different mood, a different presence. Once it's been fired it has other things to say. One might say that an invisible presence had entered the clay, something hard to define, but definitely there.
Sara read on, realizing that she had been firing not only her clay, but herself. She was being shaped, heated and turned into something she could barely recognize. Useful to someone, somewhere, she hoped.
Rudolf Steiner says that to create out of nothingness is our way to freedom - freedom from history, from psychology and causation. Time flows in two directions when we create, from the future as
well as the past. Like the clay we work with, time itself becomes permeable, as do our hopes and plans.
*
The idyllic days in the shed could not last forever. Late one afternoon, after Sara returned from shopping with Chloe, the telephone rang. She went to get it, still hoping it was Tony, but instead Selma was on the other end.
"Congratulations, I heard the wonderful news. You're getting engaged!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Mom told me. I'm coming to the party!"
"It's not an engagement."
"Oh no? Mom's so excited, she can't stop talking about it. She's inviting everyone she knows, including Aunt Tillie and Uncle Jake, even our second cousins, and the whole block."
"God!"
"What's wrong with you?"
"It's not an engagement party!"
"According to you!"
Sara slammed the phone down and was going to call Tova, when she thought better of it. Preparations were in full motion and the party was in just a few days. People were coming from all over, on both sides. Let them call it what they liked. She had not given her word or accepted a ring. This was only a summer barbecue. Let the others think what they wanted.
* * * **
As Sara was making a list of friends to invite to the barbecue the telephone rang. She jumped, hoping it was Tony.
Melvin's voice boomed clearly from the other end."It's me."
At first she thought he'd heard about the party and wanted an invitation.
"I hear you're getting engaged," he began.
"Engaged? It's a barbecue!"
"Yeah, well you're not the only one. Thought you beat me to it? Well, guess what? Alicia and I are getting engaged."
Unexpectedly, Sara's head swam for a moment as the last semblance of her old life dwindled, and what was left of the knot between them curled up and blew away. She breathed deeply, taking in the news.
"We decided last night," Melvin continued, waiting for a reply.
She pictured the Melvin and Alicia walking down the aisle together, as they had done years ago. She pictured Alicia wearing Melvin's ring, registering at hotels as his new wife. To Sara's surprise, she felt fine with it. The months had done their work upon her. She'd grown rooted within herself. It was over between her and Melvin. She could graciously let him go.
"Congratulations, Melvin," she said.
For a moment there was no reply.
"I wish you both well."
"Thanks," he said quickly and hung up. Sara knew, then, it was over.
* * * **
The Sunday of the barbecue dawned bright and sunny. The kids, dressed early and Nat, the caterer, came first thing in the morning to set up. Sara wore a long, lemon dress and sandals, preparing to act breezy and charming, as if nothing out of the ordinary were going on. Inside, she felt uneasy though and couldn't eat a bite of breakfast. The sound of Abel warning up with scales on his sax rang out through the house.
"What's wrong?" asked Chloe, at the breakfast table.
"I'm nauseous," Sara said.
"You'll feel better soon," said Chloe. "Cynthia and Greta just called to say they're bringing fruit salad. Cynthia said she's looking forward to meeting Arnold."
"Why in the world?" Sara muttered.
She looked out the back kitchen window; large, wooden tables were being carried across the lawn and opened under the trees by the caterers, filling them with plates of cold cuts, salads, bagels, and fish platters of all kinds. Red, blue and yellow balloons were suddenly tied to the trees, and small pots of flowers were being placed all around. People were already arriving and milling around.
"My God," Sara said, "people are arriving already."
"Don't worry," Chloe said, but Sara saw that she was worried herself at the sight of the strange people on her lawn.
Abel came downstairs, carrying his saxophone. Berta, dressed in crisp, white linen walked out of the laundry room in the kitchen, a huge smile lighting her face.
"I'm gonna see with my own eyes, Misses. If he's right, I'll know. My fingers will twitch."
Sara looked up at the clock. It was eleven thirty already. She had no idea where the time went. The party was called for noon. By the time she realized how late it was, she heard Tova's voice screaming through the windows, "Sara! Sara!" Tova came dashing in, dressed in a pink, silk dress, a corsage of red roses pinned to her left shoulder. She stood before Sara grandly.
"How do I look?"
Sara stared at the flowers, pinned to her shoulder, entwined with ribbons and bows. "What's that for?"
"Arnold got it for me," she said proudly, tugging on a bow. "He got one for you too."
The sticky-sweet smell of the flowers invaded them all.
"Your's is made of gardenias," Tova said. "I never saw anything like it."
The last thing Sara wanted was a corsage of gardenias. She needed time to pull herself together, to go off alone for a while. She started to rise but before she could leave the kitchen, Arnold strutted in, calling, "Sara! Sara!" exactly like her mother. He looked flushed and smelled strongly of cologne.
The kids quickly dispersed, and before Sara knew it the two them were alone. Arnold rushed over and put his arm around her waist, as if she were his personal triumph.
"Come," he pulled her towards the door, "I want to introduce you to my mother. She's here already and can't wait to meet you."
"Arnold," Tova called from the back window, tapping on her corsage, "don't forget!"
Arnold stopped and went to the window sill where he had placed a small package. He opened it up and took a white box with a lace bow, presenting it to Sara grandly.
She didn't want to open it.
"Go ahead, don't be bashful . Three guesses what's in it?" he asked, drawing out the words.
"Gardenias?"
He looked amazed.
"Woman's intuit
ion, I guess," she said, opening the box and taking out a huge corsage of gardenias, wrapped in long, white lace ribbons and bows.
"Think nothing of it," he said, taking it from her and pinning it on her right shoulder. "You know what the right shoulder, means, don't you?"
"No."
"I'll tell you later," he said and smiled adoringly, as Sara's entire body got cold.
Arnold tugged Sara outside. They wound through the people, smiling and saying hello. Sara stopped to introduce Arnold to Cynthia and Greta; Cynthia looked right into his eyes, murmuring something indecipherable.
Arnold then pulled Sara to his mother, a small woman with thin lips, dressed in lavender organdy. She looked over Sara's head without smiling. Out of the corner of her eye, Sara spotted Matilda and Fern, who looked exactly like their grandmother, picking flowers from her garden. Sara's heart began thumping as her favorite flowers disappeared into their hands. Thankfully, she then saw both Nick and Henry walk in through the gate, and heard Abel's sax start to play As Time Goes By, the long, bleating sweet sounds comforting her.
Arnold suddenly whispered, "In a little while I'll make the toast."
"What toast?" she asked, aghast, but before he could answer, they were involved in another introduction. She could only imagine what he was going to say and wondered how she could disappear before the fateful moment. She had to vanish, she realized. Stability or no stability, she could no longer live in the predictable maze created by Arnold and her mother's dreams. They weren't her dreams - not by a long shot.
Sara had fantasies of jumping over the small, steel fence at the side of the house, where the bluebells grew helter-skelter. She would disappear into the neighbor's backyard, run behind their garage and then head down the street to the train, take it far away. She looked in that direction and spotted Berta finger on her cheek, taking it all in. She shook her head back and forth as if to say, No. Her finger wasn't twitching yet.
Arnold lifted a champagne glass he had picked up from a table and called loudly, "Time for the toast," clinking it with a knife.
All eyes turned to them and the now massive crowd fell silent.
"We're honored to have you all help us celebrate our wonderful news," Arnold began.
What news? Sara gasped. He sounded crazy as he talked. How did she ever get into this? She felt stupid and hoodwinked all at once.
"I especially want to thank two of the greatest women I've ever known, my mother and Tova," Arnold's voice got louder. "In fact I'd like you all to give them a hand."
A sprinkle of applause fluttered through the crowd.
"Come join us, mom, and Tova! Without these two women I could not have gone on."
Perspiration broke out over Sara's forehead as his mother and hers marched to her side. Sara looked over the crowd that seemed to be swelling as more cars pulled up. Aunts and cousins she hadn't seen for years were there, craning their necks to see what was going on. In the background, along the furthest table, Selma was filling her plate, shaking her head in disapproval. Sara felt dizzy and nauseous as the hot sun baked down on them and Arnold continued to talk.
"And how can I forget my two wonderful daughters - Matilda and Fern? Come over here girls and join us."
Sara saw Matt grimace and Chloe run her hand furiously through her hair, as she did whenever she felt worried. Sara felt like an odd piece of furniture attached to Arnold's arm. She wanted to move or do anything to break away, and just at that moment, turned and looked towards the curb, and, to her complete shock, saw the familiar limo pulling up.
Sara's heart beat madly as Fillipo got out, opened the back door, and Tony emerged. Tony, she called to him in her mind. Thank God. Here I am. Hurry!
As if hearing her silent call he stopped, scanned the crowd, zeroed in on her, and didn't waste a second rushing over to her side.
Tony looked tall, suntanned and powerful in a white linen blazer over a royal blue shirt. He pushed his way through the throng straight to Sara. The crowd gasped as he stepped between her and Arnold, ignoring him completely. He stared deeply into Sara's eyes and took one of her hands in his.
"What are you doing here?" she breathed.
"I called, and Verna said you were getting married in the backyard."
"Berta."
"Yeah."
"I've been a fool," he said softly. "I got scared. There was that crazy thunderstorm and I saw a weird rainbow. It was looking right at me, saying, Wake Up Tony. That sealed it, right there and then."
Tony's nose crinkled in a smile as Sara moved closer, feeling as if God had swooped out of the heavens and restored her to herself. She felt every prayer she'd ever offered had been answered at that moment.
Arnold had stopped in mid-sentence and was staring at them.
"Who's this?" he finally asked.
"It's that Italian!" Tova cried.
Berta held up her finger, grinning. It was twitching like a wild bird in the wind. Matt and others joined their circle as word about Tony spread over the party like fireflies on a hot summer night.
"What's he talking to her about?" Tova mumbled. "He doesn't belong here, Arnold. Tell him to go."
"It's not my party," Arnold said. "You tell him."
"I've been a fool, Sara," Tony said softly. "But there's no way I'm gonna lose you now."
"It's your fault, Arnold," Tova screamed. "You took too long."
"My fault? Look at the daughter you raised - look who she chooses. A tough guy from hell. They deserve each other."
"Saying something about my girl?" Tony turned to Arnold, who immediately blanched and shut up.
Tony slowly unpinned the heavy corsage on Sara's shoulder. It felt like mountains of weight falling off her, piles of granite crumbling to dust.
"Thank God," Sara breathed.
Cynthia and Greta came over, staring at Tony. Sara tried to introduce them, but Greta backed off and Cynthia turned right to Arnold and said she thought his toast was terrific, that a man like him was hard to find. Arnold's eyes lit up as he looked her over from head to toe, calculating.
From the middle of the crowd Nick waved to Sara, and Henry stood happily besides him, looking at him with adoring eyes.
A thick cloud of tension had momentarily gripped the party. Then, to everyone's relief, the sound of Abel's saxophone started again, restoring the festive mood. He was playing the latest song he'd learned - Strangers In The Night. The music swelled happily, and people resumed chatting.
Tony put his arms around Sara, pulling her to him. "Come on," he whispered, "let's dance."
Tony and Sara were the first to go to the middle of the backyard and start dancing. Others, at first, stood back watching.
But soon the lawn filled with couples dancing. Cynthia and Arnold were the next to join in. Then Nick and Henry.
Everything blurred before Sara's eyes as Tony twirled her around and around. There was nothing more she wanted. Now, she whispered to herself, the sun, the moon and the stars are mine.
* * * * *
Dear Sunflower 101,
It's been a while since I've written. These past few weeks have been strange for me. I've begun having dreams about you. One thing you have to know is that I'm not a dreamer. I'm a practical man.
These peculiar dreams scare me, I feel I'm getting a message: if you want someone who can fill in the dots on a contract, take you to an ordinary movie, I'm the one. But if you're looking for something different - some kind of magic, maybe, a feeling that heaven and earth are one - well then, what can I say? We're obviously not meant for each other and it's back to the Personals for me.
Wishing you well,
Greg
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