The Road of Life

by Lorena Franco

  “Youknow,likealways.”

  “But...shedoesn’tlivehere,onthefarm.”

  “Imightmoveinwithherinafewmonths.Idon’tknow.All’sgreat,thanksforasking.”

  “Idon’taskyouveryoften,doI?”

  “We’realwaysjokingaround,youknow...”Herepliedthoughtfully.“Eversinceyouturned medowntwoyearsagonow,wedon’ttalkaboutanythingserious.”

  Thatcameasquiteasurprisetome.

  “That’sinthepast!Lookatyounow,you’rehappywithJulia...”Ireplied,notknowingif thatmademuchsenseforhim.“Everythingishowitismeanttobe.”

  Frank nodded and, without a word, turned and disappeared to return to his hard and monotonousworkonthefarm.Ilookedbacktothedepthsoftheforestandtothinkingaboutthe infinitepathsthatopenforusthroughoutourlives.MylifewouldhavebeendifferentifIhad saidyestoFrank.OrifIhadn’tletMarkgetaway.ButthislifethatIhadbeforeme,single, withnochildren,withmypaintings,myorders,myartgalleries,mycheapandnastyclothes, thedisorderandchaosineachroomofmyhome...that,thatwastheonlythingthatexistedat themoment,thankstotheworksofblackmagic.ThepainfulpartwasnotbeingwithStuart,or loving someone as deeply as I loved Matt, without me even existing in his memories. I told myselfoverandover...time,time...justafewmonthsandIwouldreturn.Justafewmonths.

  MaybeIcouldintroducemyselftoStuartasanadmirer,conquerhisheartandbewithhimand

  myson,evenifhedidhaveadifferentname,evenifhehadbeenthechildofanotherwoman who,accordingtoPatricia,haddied.Stuartwasthekindofmanwholovedcompliments.He adored the women that continued to look at him as if he were still in the best years of his modelling career. It wouldn’t be hard to be with him... I didn’t want to think about the difficulties,Ihadtothinkpositive.Andtodothat,Ineededtofocusonmypresent.

  Athalfpastoneintheafternoon,momwalkedinwithafoodcontainer.

  “Nocontainerstoday.”Isaid,takingoffmyoverall.“I’llbuyyoulunch.”

  Mom smiled happily. By the looks of things, few were the occasions that I left the workshop at lunchtime and I was happy eating out of the containers that she brought to me everydaysothatIwouldeat.ItwastruethatIshouldhaveweighedalotlessasNoraStewart thantheMrs.ClaytonInolongerwas;butIcouldunderstandwhytheworkshopwouldhold meinitandIcouldspendanentiredaywithouteatingasinglebite.Wegotintothecarand drovetowardBetty’srestaurant,intheheartofKutztown,onMainStreet,justlikethepuband themajorityofshopsandbars.WeshareddeliciouswrapsfilledwithPortobellomushrooms with provolone, spinach, tomato and a homemade basil dressing in spinach tortillas that, as muchasIhadtriedtomakethemforMattinmy“otherlife”,Ihadneverbeenabletodothem sowell.MomorderedsoupandIorderedanexquisiteandverycompletesaladalongwithmy favorite ginger and pineapple squash. I was happy to know that restaurants like Betty’s still continuedthroughthepassingoftime.Ithadalwaysbeenmyfavoriteplaceanditwaslikea dreamtobethere...withmymothersittinginfrontofme.

  “Howareyoufeelingtoday?”Iasked.

  “Fine.IhaveachemotherapysessiononMondayatthehospital...willyoucomewithme?”

  “Ofcourse.”

  “YouknowIfeelverybadafterwards...Ispendtherestofthedayvomitingandjustwant tolaydownonmybed.”

  “Mom,I’mheretolookafteryou,forwhateveryouneed.”

  “Butyouhavesomuchworkintheworkshop...Ifeelbadaboutit.”

  “You’re more important right now.” I said, convinced of my words. I still saw her so differentfromthewomanIrememberedandthereasonswhyIdistancedmyselffromher...

  “Thankyou,sweetheart.WhenI’mwithyourfather,youcanbesurethatI’llbewatching overyou,whereverIam.”

  “No,please...don’tsaythat,mom...”

  “That’s how it is. You must be prepared for it. Prepare yourself for what is coming. I’m prepared,I’mnotscared.”

  Thetearswelledupinmyeyesandbegantofalldownmycheeksjustasthewaitresscame overtotakeawayouremptyplates.Ihadnevercriedsomuchinmylife...AndIcouldn’tstop.

  “Damn allergies...” I bluffed. But it was useless, the waitress looked at me with an expressionofpityandsorrow,thenshehandedusthedessertmenuandwalkedaway.

  “Darling,don’tbeashamedofcrying.Cryingisn’tbad,ithelpsyou.”

  “I’vecriedmoreoverthesepastfewdaysthan...”Istopped.IntheseeighteenyearsthatI haven’tbeenwithyou.IntheseeighteenyearsinwhichIhaveignoredyouanddidn’twantto hearfromyou.IntheseeighteenyearsthatyouremembermeinthislifethatIamliving,butthat IdidnotenjoyyourcompanyandpresencebecauseyouroddwayofdressinginthelifethatI

  remember and chose made me feel both uncomfortable and embarrassed. In these eighteen yearsthatIthoughtIhadnothingincommonwithyou,thatyouwereacompletestrangertome andthatIcruellypushedyououtofmylifewithoutyouevenunderstandingwhyIdidit.

  “Since your father died, I know.” Mom continued, looking at me tenderly. “I now that you’resufferingformebut,ifithelps,youhavetobeokaybecauseyouhavebeenverygoodto me. You have always been there when I needed you... You forgot about the idea of going to NewYorktostudyjournalismtostayhereandstudyArt...justsothatyouwouldn’tleaveme aloneafteryourdaddied.”

  DiscoveringthedetailsmademeleanmoretowardthelifeIwaslivinginthatmomentof time,itmademyexistenceeasierand,atthesametime,itmademefeelterriblyselfishinthe parallelworldthatIcouldnolongerseefromthisside.Inoddedmyhead,notknowingwhatto say;tryingtoassimilatewhatwashappening.Onlyacoupleofdaysinthisworldhadmademe understandthatIhadtobethereforthetimebeing,withthehopeofmakingupforlosttime withMatt...atleastseeinghimagainandforhimtorecognizemeasthemotherIwas.

  “AndI’mnotgoinganywhere.”Isaid,fullofemotion.

  “Iknow.Whatdoyouwantfordessert?”

  Intheafternoon,IspoketoChristineagain.ItwasironicthatsheremindedmeabitofVirginia, althoughshewasnoolderthanthirty.Blondehair,lighteyesandalargeneckthatresembled thatofthehagofmy“ex”secretary.ButChristinewasniceandprofessionalanditappeared thatwegotonverywell.ShegreetedmewithawarmhugthatIappreciatedatthatmomentin time,afterthedeepanddepressingchatthatIhadheldwithmymomoverlunch.

  With great care, she packed up the orders and loaded them into a white van that she had hiredfortheoccasion.Shepromisedmethattheywereingoodhandsandwethenwentback to studying upcoming events and trips. I had more orders coming, big and small, and new expositionsoverthefollowingmonths.Althoughtheworkshopwasleftempty,itwouldsoon befilledwithpaintingsalloveragain.Alotofworktodo...alot,toomuchneedofinspiration tocarryitallout.CouldIhandleit?Yes,myhandswereagile,Ihadtechnique,butmybrain did not have the necessary theory that any Art student needed and had. I was pure math’s, journalismandinformation...notpaintingandart.AndnowIwasanartist.Inthisnewworld where I was beginning to feel less lost and somewhat comfortable, although he was missing fromit.Myson.HowcouldIforgetabouthim?Itwasimpossible.

  “Getsomerest,youlooktired.”Christinerecommendedbeforesheleft.

  “Iwill.Thanks.”

  “Thankyou!I’llseeyouonMondaytofinishorganizingtheexhibitionsforthefifteenthand sixteenth.”

  Luckily, the work was already done an
d I felt both excited and nervous. Very nervous.

  Seeingpeopleadmiringmypaintings...paintingsthatIdidn’trememberdoingbutthat,atthe endoftheday,weremine.Ifeltgratefulanddecidedtotakeabreak.TheplaceIchosetogo

  wasthelovelyFireflybookshop,whereIhadusedtogoyearsearliereveryFridayafternoon.

  At least it was something I knew well and liked... After half an hour of flicking through hundredsofpagesofbooksthatcaughtmyeyeduetotheircoversortitles,Markappearedon the other side of the bookshelf. I bent down so that he wouldn’t see me and, in front of a surprisedandattentivechild,IwaddledawaywithmykneesbentlookingatwhereMarkhad been.Unfortunately,hewasquickerandcaughtme.

  “I’velostacontactlens...Ican’tfindit.”Isaid,lookingdownatthefloor.

  “Nora, you don’t wear contacts.” Mark laughed. “Just tell me that you didn’t feel like talkingtome.It’sokay.”

  Right at the very moment when, embarrassed, I stood up with Mark’s help, who kindly offered me his hand, Patricia appeared and, not even looking at me, she held Mark’s arm lovingly.

  “All set! I’ve spoken to the owner and you can sign your books and give a presentation herenextweek.Heisveryhappyandcan’twaittohaveyouhere.It’sonthefifteenthatfourin theafternoon.Isn’tthatgreat?”

  “It’snotbad.”

  “Iknowit’snothinglikethefabulousNewYorkbookstoreswhereyou’vebeen,butatleast you’llmakesomeofthevillagefolkherehappy.Oh...”Patriciasaid,finallyseeingmestanding there.“Ididn’tmeanyou,dear.Whatwasyourname?”

  Patriciacouldbeinsufferable.Verymuchso.Atthatmoment,IhatedheranditwasIwho wishedshewouldendupbald,deafandlimp.

  “Nora.”Irepliedangrily.

  “Willyoubecoming?”

  “I can’t, I have to exhibit my painting in the Eckhaus galley that day.” Mark smiled, it lookedlikehewashappyforme.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it’s a shame that you’re going to miss the town’sgreatesteventoftheyear.”

  “Patricia...that’sabitmuch.”Marksaid,frowningather.“Nora,it’sbeenniceseeingyou.

  Seeyouaround.”

  ThehappycouplewalkedoutofthebookshopandIhadtoadmitthatmyinsidesburned.I feltjealous,veryjealousofPatricia.SeeingherholdingontoMark’sarm,flashinghimoneof herbestsmilesandwiththoselargeinnocenteyesthat,atthatmomentintime,Iwouldhave pulledoutofherskulllikeaWolfdefendinghercubs.Itwasthefirsttimeinthatnewworld thatIfeltlikeIwasbeingunfaithfultoStuart.

  PARTTWO

  THENEWMRS.CLAYTON

  Bonnie went to work that morning with a smile permanently etched on her face. She even greetedherhard-workinganduptightsecretary,Virginia.Asshesatdownonhercomfortable chairandhappilytookthecoffeethathersecretaryhandedher,hermindflewthroughdifferent areasthatwereverydifferenttotheplacewhereshewas.Shesawherselfdressedinawhite dressonStuart’sarm.Withabeautifulsleevelessweddinggown.Everybodywouldbeginto callherMrs.Claytonafteranidyllicandunforgettableweddingceremony.Theywouldmost probablyhavetwoorthreechildrenandtheywouldlivehappilyeverafter.Acacklethatwas typicalofanywitchsoundedandevenVirginia,whowasinthenextroom,feltherhairsstand onendassheheardher.Bonniehadnoideaaboutfinances.Allofthefilesthatweresavedon the computer were alien to her and she knew that she would never be able to do such an efficientjobasNorahaddoneovertheyears.Yearsthatdidnotexistinthisworldinwhich Bonniefinallyfelthappyandcomplete.Supposedly,shecarriedoutherjobwithdignity,inthe postofexecutivevicepresidentthatshehadbeeninfortwoyearsbut...whatwasitthatshe had to do exactly? The phone rang. Virginia informed her that it was her boss, Michael Clayton, Stuart’s father... Bonnie’s eyes lit up. “My father-in-law.” She thought enthusiasticallytoherself.

  “Hello,Michael.”Bonnierepliedinaresolutetone.

  “Bonnie,somethinghastochange.Weneedtoreducecosts.Callforanurgentmeetingfor firstthingMondaymorning.Wehavetotalkaboutsomemattersandtrytofixthem.”

  BeforeBonniehadthechancetospeak,Michaelhungup.Bonniesawherselfinthesame difficult situation that Nora had already been in, in the other world. The possibility of substitutingtenthousandworkersforsophisticatedmachineslitupinBonnie’smind,whofelt terribly guilty at having to relive the same moment that the previous owner of her office had alreadylivedinanotherlife.

  BonnieorderedforVirginiatotakecareofeverythingthatsheherselfdidn’tknowhowto do for Monday. She would find a solution... she could do something to prevent that her past colleagues, those who didn’t even know of her insignificant existence, were not fired.

  Although,ontheotherhand...Whyshouldshethinkaboutthemwhentheyneverthoughtabout her? They never invited her to the karaoke on Friday night or to have a drink after work.

  Nobody greeted her in the mornings. Nobody ever asked her, during all of the years that she hadworkedthere,howshewas.Notasinglepersonhadworriedabouthertheweekshehad been of sick with a terrible flu. Why should she do them a favor? She didn’t owe them anything.Andyet,shehadthepossibilityofbeingthedaughter-in-lawthatMr.Claytonwanted.

  Stuartwalkedintotheoffice,interruptingherthoughts.Hewalkedovertoherandplacing his large strong hands on her boney cheeks, he lifted her face upwards and kissed her passionately.

  “I’msorry,Icouldn’tstopmyself.Ineededtoseeyou.”

  —“Ilovethatyou’resohopelesslyromantic,Stuart.”

  “I want to ask you something... I know it’s crazy, because we’ve only been on one date, but...”

  “Yes!Yes,Ido!”Bonnierepliedeffusively.

  “Yes?ThenI’llstarttoprepareeverything.OurseconddatewillbeinParis...thecityof love!You’regoingtoloveit,you’llsee.We’llleaveinafewhoursonaprivatejet,getyour thingsready.”

  Bonniewasstunned.Itwasn’tamarriageproposalthatStuarthadproposed,butshewas going to spend a romantic weekend with him in Paris. She had always dreamed of visiting Parisandthatwastheperfecttimetodosowiththeperfectpersonatherside.Shewouldhave timetothinkaboutthestormsatworkwhenshegotback...attheendoftheday,ifshewaswith theboss’sson,nothingbadcouldhappentoher...right?

  THEBARBECUE

  ItwasnighttimebythetimeIarrivedhome.Iquicklyturnedonthelights,becauseIwasstill afraidthattheghostofthelittleoldwoman,Dorothy,wouldappearsomewhereinthehouse.

  The real fright would come with the electricity bill. Having left my cell phone forgotten at home,IsawthatIhadtwomissedcallsfromFrank.Ilistenedtohisvoicemails,tellingmethat Iwasinvitedtothebarbecuethat,likeeveryyear,wouldbepreparedthatSaturdayatthefarm andthathalfofthetownwouldgoto.TheotherwasFrankaskingmewhatmyabsenceatthe pubwasdueto...Icouldn’tthinkofanythingworsethanspendingallofmyeveningsinthepup drinkingbeer.

  ThefirstpersonthatcametomymindwhenIthoughtaboutthebarbecuewasMark.And surprisingly,Iwaslookingforwardtotheideaofseeinghiminaninformalmeeting,evenifhe did take Patricia with him... How could I have ever been friends with that monster of a woman?Definitively,inmyotherlife,Iwasanarrogantidiotwhothoughtshemadethebest decisionsineverything.Now,however,Isawmyselfinalifethat,bitbybit,Ihadtogetused towhetherIlikeditornot,untilIcouldfi
ndasolutiontotheproblem.Onceagain,Icovered myfacewithmyhands,Irubbedmyeyesthatwereredfromexhaustionandthehecticdayand IwenttobedthinkingaboutMatt.

  Saturday, tenth of November. Once again, a cold but sunny day dawned in Kutztown and the songsfromthebirdsbrightenedupthemorning...IthoughtIfoundmyselfinthestoryof “Snow WhiteandtheSevenDwarves” thatMattlikedsomuch.Icouldgetusedtoit.Butfourdays withoutseeingmysonfeltlikeaneternity;notknowingif,somewhereinStuart’smemory,he could know that I was his wife and that the boy he lived with, was not a result of his relationshipwithamodel...Damnworldsanddamneddecisionsthatleadustooneofthem.

  AnddamnedthewitchwhohadledmetoliveinaworldIhadnotchosen.

  IcalledFranktoknowwhattimeIhadtobeatthefarmandiftherewasanythingIcould dotohelphim.HewasverysurprisedtoseethatitwasteninthemorningandIwasnotinmy workshop. “IworkonSaturday’saswell?” Iaskedmyself.InthelifethatIknew,Idedicated all of the hours of the weekend to Matt. We would play, talk a lot, we would read stories, watch cartoons... although our favorite plan was to go to the cinema and eat popcorn. Matt would live off of popcorn if he could, without eating anything else. We also loved to lock ourselvesupinthekitchenandbakecupcakes...MattwastheperfectlittlehelperandIloved the way his eyes shone when we took the cupcakes out of the oven. It was so lovely... On weekends,Iforgotaboutmycellphone,aboutmycomputerandallofmywork;notcaringat allifIwouldhavetodoitallthefollowingMondayandturningitintotheworstdayofthe

  week.IonlycaredaboutMatt...justhim.Astonotinterruptmydedicationtomypaintings,I decidedtotakeashower,getdressedupinthebestdressIcouldfindinmywardrobe,even though I didn’t like it, drank some coffee, climbed into my car and headed out to the farm.