Destined

by Gail Cleare

  “So?” she said, with a knowing look.

  “Huh?” I answered warily.

  “I hear you’ve been going around with that guy, the one who used to have the fancy car!” she confronted me, her hand on her hip.

  “You mean, Tony Novak?”

  “That’s his name? What kinda name is that?” she asked curiously.

  “It’s Tony Novak’s name,” I shrugged.

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s originally Czechoslovakian, actually.”

  “Ohhhh, yeah?” she considered this as though it were a very bizarre fact. “I never met anybody from that place before. He speaks English and everything?”

  “Yes, Josie. He speaks like six or seven languages, including Italian! His parents live in Italy, he was raised there.”

  Her face lit up. “Ohhh! Yeah? That’s great! You gotta bring him over sometime!”

  “I will. He’d love it.”

  “I bet he hasn’t had a nice red sauce like they make back home for a long time,” she said, getting up. “I’ll make somethin’ special for him. Here,” she said, bustling happily around the stove to pack some stuffed shells with extra red sauce into a plastic container. “You take this home tonight and heat it up. He’s gonna be a happy man!”

  “Thank you, Josie,” I said, touched by her excitement.

  “You like this guy, Emily?”

  “Very much,” I nodded.

  She smiled at me and reached up to pinch my cheek affectionately.

  “You’re a good girl, Emily,” she said again. “You tell him that. Make sure he appreciates you!”

  “I will, Josie. And, I think maybe he does appreciate me. That’s one of the things I like about him!”

  She nodded in approval.

  “He got a good job, Emily?” she considered.

  “Well, not at the moment. He’s, um, self-employed. But he did interview for a teaching position at the University a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Oh, that’s good!” she said, raising her eyebrows. “That’s a real good place to work. They got good benefits there. You tell him to take that job! Then you marry this guy and make some babies, Emily. You’ll be a great mama!”

  The timer went off on the stove and she turned to open the oven door and peer inside. I thanked her for her sage advice and the food for Tony, and left her to her cooking.

  I served the stuffed shells for dinner that night at his house, adding hot garlic bread and a green salad. Tony’s furniture had just arrived from London, and we ate sitting at a real table for a change. And what a table! His dining set, with seating for eight, was authentic Chippendale. I understood now why he had gone to the trouble and expense to ship his things. There were some wonderful antiques, many of an age that one only finds in Europe, where “old” means something very different from what it does here. And there were signs of his travels in Asia, beautiful rugs and wall hangings, brass tables and lamps and big heavy candlesticks, silk draperies and a carved teak screen inlaid with ivory. While the pasta warmed in the oven, we moved things around and argued over what should go where.

  “I want to use the screen upstairs,” Tony insisted, folding it up to carry it to the master bedroom. “It can cover the electronics when we’re not using them. It spoils the mood to see all that technology when I’m trying to meditate!”

  He had already placed a small Buddha statue in the center of the round brass table, and we each had a favorite floor pillow nearby. We hadn’t sat down to meditate together yet, but I was looking forward to it. I was curious to see what it would be like to try to communicate while “traveling the inner planes,” as it was called in the books that Tony had loaned me.

  Tony and I had not spent a night apart since that first weekend. I tried to take my cat and go home to my apartment, but a couple of hours later he followed me over there. When he knocked on my door, he claimed to be having an attack of withdrawal pangs from his sex addiction. I took pity on him and let him come inside.

  I was starting to understand what Henry had meant by saying “a man like Tony.” Tony was an amazingly intuitive person, I learned. He believed that when the universe gives us a sign, an intuition, we should spring into action. I had actually seen him do this now, several times. Successfully, I might add. His intuitions were right on the money. I was trying to learn to have confidence in mine as well. It was hard to ignore the negative voice in my head that told me I was being silly, but when I managed to drown it out, the results seemed to justify the leap of faith.

  Take my intuitions about Amy, for example. The attractive displays she had designed for our store windows were pulling in more and more new customers every day. The manager of a women’s clothing store down the street had noticed, and called to ask me who had done the windows for us. I told her it was a brilliant young art student who was my summer intern, possibly available for some freelance work if the price was right. Amy got her courage up and went over to show them some of her sketches, and they hired her on the spot. She was totally thrilled, and so was I.

  Meanwhile, the girls and I had started taking turns every week hosting Ladies’ Night. We met early, right after work, had a nice chat and a quick drink, and then everyone hurried home for dinner with our loved ones. Everyone brought her own beverage of choice, plus any snacks we had kicking around in the fridge.

  I invited them all to come over to my apartment, when it was my turn. Tony had left his “Latin Lounge” CD on the stereo, so I turned it on, loud. The first number is a dramatic tango. Bella came over and raised her eyebrow at me, snapping out her hand in time with the music, palm up. I slapped my hand down into hers, we pointed our arms toward the far wall and tangoed across the floor together, giggling all the way. Laurie and Alyssia joined in, and then everyone else, and soon we were all dancing crazily around the room.

  “What else do you have?” Siri wanted to know, flipping through my CDs.

  “Oooh! Look, play this one!” said Mei, holding up my Aimee Mann album. We put it on and everyone sang as we danced.

  I poured some wine for Laurie.

  “How’s it going with your sweetie?” she wanted to know. “He sure is one handsome man!”

  “Oh yeah,” said Bella, dancing suggestively. “He can have a three-way any time he wants!”

  “You’re offering your services?” I asked, pinching her on the butt as she wiggled past.

  Somebody put on Sly and the Family Stone, “Dance to the Music.” We all jumped up and flung ourselves into it, each in her own way. Siri moved elegantly, swaying and spinning in circles. Bella whipped her body around, moving her arms in wide, expressive motions. She was a fabulous dancer, coordinated and athletic. Laurie was graceful and controlled, with obvious ballet training. Alyssia rocked her hips back and forth to the beat, using her hands and facial expressions descriptively. Mei moved in delicate, flowing motions that matched her spry, petite body, but she sang as loudly as the rest of us, a big voice in a little package. Mindy had great rhythm and that bendable, flexible body. She stepped into sync with Bella, copying her moves. They laughed and flung back their heads, matching their steps as we all sang the chorus together, repeating the words. “Dance to the music,” we all sang, jumping up and down in unison. The floor shook.

  I started to worry a little about my downstairs neighbor. I wondered if he was home. If so, we might be hearing from him quite soon. I turned the volume down a tad and went into the kitchen to get some crackers and cheese. Laurie had brought guacamole and pita chips, too. I carried everything into the main room and put it on the coffee table. We settled down on the couch and the floor, clustering around to dip our chips into the heavenly green mush.

  “Oh Emily, I forgot to tell you,” Siri said, “My father has some news about Amy and her mother. He thinks he’s found out where they’ve been living!”

  “Really? Where?” I asked.

  Alyssia nodded and said, “Yes, Rashid told me about this. Some of the kids were helping out at the church, painting dow
n in the basement, where they have the Sunday School rooms.”

  “There is a small storage room in the back of the building that is usually locked,” Siri said. “But this time it was not, and the boys went inside. It looked like someone had been sleeping there. Two pallets were laid out on the floor and there was a bundle of clothes and personal items.”

  “Is it possible for someone to stay there without anyone knowing?” I asked, doubtfully. “Wouldn’t the minister or the deacons or someone find out about it?”

  “Yes, you would think so. It’s a mystery,” Siri said.

  “Do any of you know the people who run the church?” I asked, but they all shook their heads. “What denomination is it, anyhow?”

  “I think it’s Unitarian, whatever that means,” said Bella.

  “Rashid knows the minister, who is a woman,” Alyssia told us. “She does a lot of work with the neighborhood kids. That’s why he was helping with the painting. They’re turning one of the rooms in the basement into a gathering place for teens, somewhere for them to hang out and listen to music, so they won’t get into trouble on the street.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Laurie said. “There really isn’t anywhere for them to go, at the moment. I see them sitting on the sidewalk smoking cigarettes all the time.”

  “I hope my son is not smoking cigarettes!” Alyssia said, alarmed.

  “No, not Rashid,” Laurie calmed her. “He’s a good boy, don’t worry.”

  “So, the boys didn’t actually see anyone in this room, right?” I asked.

  “No,” said Siri. “I don’t think so. But they told my father they’ll be keeping an eye on the place. It’s just a matter of time before someone sees who it is.”

  We moved on to other topics as we polished off the last of the snacks and drained our glasses. The girls got up to find their shoes and bags, helping me bring the dishes to the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher. Just as they were about to leave, there was a knock on the door. Bella was the closest, so she opened it. Tony was standing in the hallway with a Sorrentino’s Pizza box in his hand.

  “Am I too early?” he asked, looking a bit overwhelmed by the mass of femininity gathered right inside the door.

  “Oh no, baby,” said Bella, pulling him in the door and shooting me one of her raised-eyebrow grins, “You’re right on time!”

  He went into the kitchen to put the pizza down on the countertop, and as soon as his back was turned she rolled her eyes and mouthed silently, “SO cute!” pretending to swoon and collapsing into Laurie’s arms. Tony turned around to see what was so funny, a little suspicious frown on his face.

  “OK ladies,” I said protectively, shooing them out the door. “I’ll see you all on Friday morning, if not sooner!”

  We hugged and kissed each other goodbye and they trooped down the stairs. I went back into the kitchen, where Tony had put the pizza and two plates on the table. He was rummaging in the fridge, and pulled out a bag of tossed salad.

  “Did you have fun with your girlfriends?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I answered, “I always have fun with them. They are really a great group of women.”

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” he said, uneasily.

  “No, don’t worry. Bella just wants to jump your bones, that’s all!”

  “She what?”

  “She thinks you’re cute,” I said, putting my arms around him. “It’s a compliment. We all think you’re cute. Especially me.”

  He perked up and smiled, wrapping his arms around me too. We kissed, slowly and deliciously.

  “I’m glad your girlfriends approve,” he said. “I hate to think what would happen if they didn’t like me. I’m sure you would break up with me immediately.”

  “Probably so,” I teased, “But only after I had my way with you.”

  “Emily, are you terribly hungry right now?” he asked thoughtfully.

  “Not frantically, we had hors d’oeuvres.”

  “Good!” he said, pulling my T-shirt up over my head and dropping it on the floor. Unzipped in a second, my skirt fell to the floor as well. Soon, we were using the kitchen counter for a purpose I was fairly certain it had not originally been designed to serve. It was all over with very quickly, but we smiled at each other afterwards in complete accord.

  “Can you concentrate on your dinner now?” I asked playfully, picking up the trail of clothing scattered across the kitchen floor. He was standing at the sink in his boxers, peeling carrots under the running water.

  “I’ll try,” he said, turning his head to wink at me. I kissed him on the back of the shoulder, heading to the bathroom for a minute. When I came back wearing my bathrobe, he moved all the food to the coffee table. We sat on the sofa and ate pizza and salad, watching the local news on TV.

  “Look!” Tony said, pointing, “It’s about your festival!”

  They were doing a live report about the upcoming Sidewalk Sales, talking about the “dog days” of summer and all the fun things there would be for families to enjoy next weekend. Sarah Bennet was on camera, being interviewed in front of the Gladstone Gallery. She was composed and eloquent, an experienced hand at this kind of publicity. Lexi’s windows looked great behind her, filled with some colorful new abstract landscapes that I hadn’t seen before. They talked about the entertainment events, mentioning the names of the performers who would be playing under the tent. When the reporter signed off, I jumped off the couch and ran for the phone, dialing Laurie’s cell.

  “Did you see it?” she answered, not bothering to say hello.

  “Yes!”

  “Omigosh, wasn’t it GREAT!” she shouted excitedly.

  “Can you believe it? Free advertising! The best kind!”

  “Did you know this was happening?”

  “No, they must have called Sarah at the last minute, she would have told me,” I said.

  “Emily, if they’re already covering it and it isn’t even happening for almost a week, we’re going to be mobbed!”

  “I certainly hope so,” I said. “But I forgot to watch the weather forecast, I got so excited and ran to call you.”

  “Fair skies for this week, chance of scattered showers after that,” Tony interjected, watching the broadcast. I repeated this to Laurie.

  “OK, so it might rain a little, and it might not. Just like always,” she said. “We have to concentrate on good weather, and that what we’ll get.”

  “Right,” I agreed. We hung up and I went back to the couch.

  Tony put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.

  “Congratulations,” he said, “You must be happy.”

  “Things are going well, let’s just hope it continues,” I said, crossing my fingers.

  “You need to picture it working the way you want it to,” Tony said, seriously.

  I nodded. “OK, will you help me?”

  He looked flattered, and smiled at me questioningly. “Sure, do you mean it? Or are you joking again?”

  “I’m serious!” I said, taking his hand in mine. “I want to learn how to do it, you know, the way you make things happen.”

  “OK,” he said. “Eat your dinner, then we’ll meditate together and I’ll show you.”

  I cleared my plate and we turned off the TV, settling down to sit cross-legged on the floor, facing each other. Following Tony’s instructions, I closed my eyes, slowing my breathing down and centering my consciousness within my body. I went deeply into my mind, losing awareness of the room around me as I floated up into my thought body. I deliberately pictured the goal we had agreed on, trying to see it in my mind’s eye.

  As in a vivid dream, I saw Market Street on a clear, sunny day. It was from the same perspective as if I were standing in the doorway of the shop, looking out. I turned my dream eyes to the left toward a bright glow and past it I saw the big tent, the intersection roped off with stanchions, people milling about. Families were walking up and down the sidewalks, kids with floating balloons and babies i
n strollers. Everyone was happy, including me! I held the image and the feeling for as long as I could, finally coming out of it when I noticed that my left leg had gone totally to sleep.

  Tony was still sitting opposite me, his eyes open and watching me calmly.

  “Welcome back,” he said, reaching out for my hand.

  “Thank you,” I replied, dazed.

  “That was an amazing experience, Emily,” he said very seriously. He looked at me with piercing eyes, questioningly.

  “It was?” I said vaguely, feeling fuzzy. I straightened out my stiff legs and rubbed the tingling.

  “You didn’t see me, did you?” he asked, apparently disappointed.

  “See you where?”

  “Standing next to you, in the doorway of the shop.”

  “Just now?”

  “Yes, “ he said excitedly, “I went into my mind to picture what we discussed, the sunny day, all that, and there you were, standing right next to me!”

  “Which side?” I asked, remembering what I had envisioned.

  “You were on my right,” he replied firmly. “I saw you looking out at the intersection. You were smiling.”

  There had been that bright glow to my left, it had blinded me a little when I looked past it toward the intersection. I thought it was sunlight, but I guess it was actually Tony. I told him what I had experienced.

  “Maybe if we practice, I’ll be able to see you too,” I said, very intrigued.

  “Do you want to?” he asked, kissing my hand with a smile.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then I’m sure you will.”

  On the Friday that the Sidewalk Sales were scheduled to begin, the day dawned clear and hazy. Tree and I had stayed at Tony’s house and the night before we had meditated on the weather again, as we had done several times during the week. The forecast for the weekend hadn’t changed much, predicting clear skies for Friday and Saturday, with a possibility of showers for late Saturday night and Sunday. Most of the important musical events were happening on Saturday, when the largest crowds of shoppers traditionally appear to scour the streets for bargains. Our headliner performers were going on stage Saturday night, when we had all agreed to stay open until nine.