“If he didn’t survive the tough life and immigrate over here, we wouldn’t have what we have.” Sid goes on. “So it was a jumping off point for us. He went against the grain of his tradition, his family, and you know yourself how tough that can be.”
Jo starts humming, slicing a strip of clay into pieces the same size.
###
Over the next few days, Sid finds himself so relaxed; he fears he’ll fade out into a puddle of tranquility all over the floor. Jake returns, and takes him out for a bit of excitement, on a sea kayak paddle around the bay. They follow the tide, first up the river, and then as the tide reverses, they float downstream on a free ride along with the harbor seals.
Perhaps it’s the shock of just too much unaccustomed calm, as late one night, Sid half wakes from a dreamless sleep, unable to doze off again, yet neither can he wake up. He stumbles into the kitchen, pouring a cup of tea, still cold from the night air, and then wavers over to look out at the park, misty with moonlit fog. Feeling some vague pull for a breath of freshness, he steps awkwardly down the stairs, hand on the wall, creak creak, and out the front, cup firmly held in hand. Staring into the fog, he watches beams of moonlight sneak through here and there. If only those swings were set up, he would go for a little ride.
Then, against the hum of silence, it’s almost like laughter out there, it’s way too late, but like a child’s silliness, and the swish of swings on their tethers, and ecstatic moments of free-fall. No, there are no swings yet, he tells himself. He turns back; he has to get back to sleep. But tiptoeing through the sales floor, a warm glow reaches out to him from around the shelves, stretching up to hold his hand as he makes his way up the stairs. The colors around take on a hue of gold for an extended moment, like they have only on occasion before. He falls into a deep sleep right away, waking well rested. No recall of sultan this morning, but it feels like the well is a little less empty.
###
Sami comes along this time, for a ride to the airport. They stand waving as he walks towards his boarding gate. He waves back, feeling a wrench inside. He should go to sea, park his boat in the harbor by the fort. Village peace will be soon lost, never to be found again back in the city.
He slides into his seat, looking out at the tarmac. The big thing is: are they rich? Especially, is his sister rich? Had Grandpa Pawlo’s emigration efforts proved themselves out, even further than he could ever have imagined back when he slept behind the cow? He thinks so, ‘cause though Jo certainly doesn’t have the trappings of Franco, she exudes a wealth of contentment he strives to know better.
He drifts off, wondering about the cousins yet to visit. If all turns out well, this trip isn’t over yet.
Chapter 10
He loops around another gravel lane in the trailer park. A high pitched yipping starts as he pulls up in front, but he rings the doorbell anyway, to add a human signal of arrival.
“Hey Amy, you’re home … I wasn’t sure.” He grins. “Haven’t seen you since the reunion.” The dog sniffs eagerly at his pant leg, wagging itself into a frenzy like a hula hoop dancer.
“Hi Sidney, come in come in.” She turns to the canine, pointing. “Clyde! Go lay down!” Her cousin’s nerves settle as her voice softens. “It’s too bad. Bryan is at work and I just walked Nicky and Annalise to school. But, come on in. We can sit in the front room.” Clyde decides to go lay down wherever they’re going, and follows them, paws trampling through the jumble of shoes.
“So the kids are OK? Bryan is working? Yah, sorry, I have to get to Calgary yet today. Glad you’re home though; rumour has it you fly international.”
Amy smiles contentedly. She offers tea or coffee, heading into the kitchen.
“Really, I hear you went to California.” He calls after her. “Did you see Andy when you were there?”
“I only went for lunch, just a day, yah … he said he would meet me there.”
“So did he?”
Amy is silent as she comes out with the tea.
“Yah, I saw him at the Marriot …”
“So you did go to San Francisco, but just for one day you say?”
“That’s what Jessica does,” she says, “so Bryan wanted me to go for just one day. He wanted me to have a day just like her. She has so much money; she can do just whatever she wants, whenever she wants.”
The whole thing had been Bryan’s idea. Try it, he persuaded, go see for yourself what’s there. Maybe he had tired of hearing her talk about the television show, or maybe he just knew what she needed to do, Sid thinks. An understanding man, and also a practical one in ways. He put in some overtime at the warehouse to pay for the trip, yet he insisted she go for just one day, to be truly frivolous.
###
Tension hung thick that morning. Vying forces tore at her from all directions as she rode the bus to the airport. She pulled her ticket from her purse a couple times, Delta Airlines – Flight 483, that’s what it read.
She carried her one small bag, looking straight ahead as she navigated her way through the light crowds, shivering with excitement, yet nervous as scenes of her hero Jessica ran and then reran through her head.
Sitting by the boarding gate, she listened to others chatting of faraway places. An airport worker, in a blue and gold uniform, released the red cloth strap from a metal post, allowing a line-up to form to check in luggage. The clips of Jessica waiting for her flight ran a close overlap with her own reality now.
Still, she felt a little awkward as she pulled a sandwich from a crumpled paper bag. She glanced around as she ate, careful to brush a crumb from her skirt. Maybe her food wasn’t the most refined, but she could see grubbiness among others; she certainly dressed better than some, and she sighed with satisfaction at that.
###
“So you feel better because of how you dress?” Sid cuts in.
“Ohh, yes, I felt sooo much better.” She shakes her head. “Like Jessica. She has the nicest clothes, and she’s always sure of herself.” Amy laughs as she recalls. “But I think, maybe I was just insecure.” She looks sideways at him. “You know, I’ve always had a knot in my stomach, kind of an empty spot, you know what I mean?”
Sid nods, listening to the little inner voice whisper aha. Maybe that’s what drives her, and him, and most others. The emptiness. Perhaps a good set of inner feelings, a well full of water, would be a worthwhile investment. In place of the clothes on the outside, instead of the booze on the inside. If a person knew those good feelings were possible, they might be motivated like gold rush miners crossing a mountain pass in a blizzard. If they knew how, if they could get their empty well at least half full, what might that be worth?
She goes on, and Sid leans back, sipping his tea.
###
As she ate her lunch, Amy’s discomfort grew. She wanted to be somewhere else. But she sat tight. Thoughts of home, husband and children kept coming to her, and she swallowed deep. She was happy, she tried to tell herself. But she couldn’t help feel her hand move to her belly, her aching emptiness.
Finishing the sandwich, she stuffed its plastic wrap back into the bag, pulling out a banana and a pop bottle of trailer water. Exotic soda soon. Finished eating, she slid the paper bag and bottle onto the next seat. This was her life so far, she thought, looking at the refuse, and pursing her lips, she rose up and walked away.
“Any luggage?”
“I need my bag with me.” Her brow creased.
“Carry on, OK. Passport please.”
“I have a birth certificate. They said that was all I need …” The crease deepened.
“Can I see it? And a driver’s license then.”
She got her boarding pass, and she knew what that was for.
“Thank you.” She brightened, mimicking Jessica’s smile she had seen a thousand times. Her smile came with her through customs into the air-conditioned hallway leading to the boarding gate. Nicer décor than her trailer. But such line-ups. She sat anticipating, looking around. A mother alone kept her
children close, and Amy’s heart thumped. She looked the other way – this was her time – she stood and walked to a far window, humming, then back to board. A scanned pass in hand, she followed the hallway that surprisingly ended. A set of stairs. This wasn’t right. She descended, astonished to find herself outside in the breeze.
“I’m looking for a Delta flight.” Her voice quivered. The attendant pointed out across the tarmac. Wow, Jessica always had a boarding gate extension.
She climbed the stairs up to the jet; only four seats wide. On well, a jet at least. The stewardess dressed well, as she demonstrated emergency doors to exit. Amy listened attentively, feeling more uneasy. She put her bag under the seat in front of her, as the stewardess instructed. No one sat beside her when the door closed, but the children’s voices were close.
The jet pulled beeping out on the runway and as it accelerated, Amy whooshed back to the Carnival ride in town one summer. The bumpiness disappeared abruptly when the wheels lifted. She watched her city diminish, becoming a bunch of toy houses and cars. She strained to see her trailer, wanting to wave for a moment. The city fell behind, replaced by grain fields, bush and sloughs. She spotted an old church at a grid road corner.
Carnival that Saturday, then church that Sunday. She was ten years old. The neighbours pulled up beside her family’s car in their new Cadillac. She watched the neighbour girl push the shiny door opened, as the rust fell off her own door. She waved, and Tina waved back, smiling in a strange way. Later that day she first felt the knot. She asked her mother about Tina’s shining car, but she never really got an answer. Just a seed of emptiness.
She forgot about that day, but the seed, now planted like a secret weed, lay dormant, waiting, but not long. She saw other cars, and houses, and the ways of people, fertilizer for the feeling over the years, all while she was busy just trying to live. She only wanted to be happy – to live a full life. She knew that. Now she had her own children, but the seed had matured in the background. Could she ever snip it off, or better yet dig it right out?
Well, she settled back, now thanks to her husband, she was on her way to discover the wonders of Jessica at the Marriot. There would be the shear for the nasty weed.
She had to focus; she wished there were no children on the plane. Their freedom pushed as a fresh flower up beside her weed of emptiness, beside herself as she had been, until that day at church. Not a care in the world, just like her own kids.
The stewardess came by with the drinks cart. She couldn’t remember; a list of free items had been mentioned. She would refuse, no matter what they offered, just to be sure. Tomorrow, for lunch at the Marriot Hotel, then she would drink whatever caught her fancy.
“A glass of water please.”
“Snack mix?”
“How much are they?”
“Complimentary.”
“Oh, sure.”
She opened the little package, eating it all except for the pretzels – she hated pretzels. Don’t waste, her mother told her what she herself was told by Grandma. Eat everything on your plate she told her kids too – and then she slowly drank the bottle of cool water. The deep hum of the engines droned in the background, punctuated with that children’s laughter.
She sighed, glancing out the window as the plane passed through a bank of fluffy white mist. Like the clouds of heaven from church, a church that gave so much to her sister and mother, why not her? Where was Peter at the Gates, right here, right now?
She looked down again, at the bare hilly land and scattered trees. Tiny clouds floated below, how strange. A creek meandering along a valley took her to teenage years. The boys at school pulling up in shiny new trucks, others with old junkers. She went for rides with new truck boys and she kind of liked the plush seats. When she met Bryan though, his kindness touched her in spite of his rusty old truck, and his became the one. Plush seats or not, only with her future husband had she gone for a ride down by the creek. No one else.
Excitement began battle with droopy eyelids, until the jet lurched slightly. Salt Lake City announced the pilot. Below, a big lake came into view with low mountains poking out from the surface, forming islands along its shores.
Ahead, the city spread out to the mountains in the distance and the green grass and trees lay softly between industrial warehouses. Bryan must be at work now. Green highway signs became readable and the dry land around the airport melded into pavement as she watched the jet’s shadow touch the jet with a jerk. The children resonated their vocal cords in tune with the engines, as the plane slowed down to automobile speed.
Amy grabbed her bag, fitting well as a jet set woman, traveling light. The signs guided her well, like a barbwire fence the cattle follow, to the next departure gate. A couple hours wait here. The sun set gently over the lake.
She watched the planes take off and land, just for practice, but this wasn’t the right view, not yet. She just wanted to get on with the trip. Finding a seat close to her departure gate, she tried to relax.
The new plane, this time with a boarding gate, was a real jet, six seats wide and twice as long. From another window seat, she glanced quickly out into the dark Utah night.
One of the stewardesses, her hair up, had cute earrings and a little sapphire kerchief around her neck. Now she dressed like Jessica in a way. The jet was almost empty, except for first class. First class people are late night travelers with loose schedules and exciting lives, just like Jessica.
The big jet backed away from the boarding gate, smoothly. Amy half listened now to the instructions on life-vests and oxygen masks. The lights went out as the jet taxied; this take-off would be in the dark. Her ears grew accustomed to the higher pitched whine of this real airliner. Finally the jets roared, a Carnival moment, a little bump and they were off; she felt like a night bird looking down on city lights. A freeway with tiny headlights flowing past each other. Yes, the jet set life, she thought, looking up the dimly lit aisle at her mysterious fellow travelers. On the way to San Francisco, the California city on the sea. And no children.
Amy diverted her gaze upward, seeing romance in the constellation laden sky, the reflection of a flashing light bouncing along the jet’s wing to the white light shining at its tip. The jets roared with a power that brought the smiling face of Jessica to mind. Her dreamy silence was broken.
“Something to drink?” The stewardess flashed a radiant smile.
“Water?”
Another bottle and a bag of pretzels. All pretzels. She left them.
How young, beautiful and popular Jessica was, how she had everything, everything money could buy. Jessica, for sure, was happy. Always. She put her hand on her stomach. Jessica would have no knot for sure. Amy felt a tingle of anticipation. Then, so rested, or exhausted, she dozed off.
Popping ears made her swallow, and groggily she looked out at small town lights. But the lights multiplied as rapidly as her heart beat faster. The city revealed itself, looking so mysterious, with low clouds obscuring patches of streetlights. An ocean front city spread out over hills, like an endless ant colony.
A new smell permeated the jet. Whether from the ocean or the city, she didn’t know. As her jet pulled up to dock, she saw jets from Singapore, Thailand and Italy; from all over the world.
Amy disembarked slowly, savouring every moment as she walked out into the cool humid air. Asking an attendant, she found her way to the shuttle bus – now Jessica would have had a chauffeur pick her up or at least a taxi – but Amy hopped the evening bus to Jessica’s favourite hotel.
Time stood still as she walked through the front doors, every tassel on the doormen’s suits waved her in as they elegantly held the door for her entry. Like walking in on the Cinderella party of her life. Everyone there was dressed to the nines, her long sought world opening arms of welcome. A receptionist found her reservation, and she slowly found her way up to the fifth floor. Enthralled, but exhausted, she threw her bag on the bed, washed her face in the bathroom and crawled under the warmth of the covers
, a little clammy in the ocean air, and drifted off into a dream filled sleep.
###
Come morning, she gradually awoke from not just pleasant dreams, but knot-free dreams, filled to the brim with cheerfulness. And with the humidity in the air still there, confirming the reality of wonderland, she played the role of Jessica on an ordinary day when the sun always shone, when a strong thread of wonder consistently wove together the fabric of life.
She had arrived.
She peeked through the curtains for a view of the ocean, and its magical shimmer. San Francisco Bay, she just knew it. But thick foggy clouds blocked out the sun, and missing were the rolling ocean waves, the Bay instead lay totally still … covered with some kind of seaweed or floating mire. Her smile dimmed, but only slightly, her inner enthusiasm holding. This was the place; she had seen it a thousand times.
She stepped from the morning shower, wrapping a towel around her hair and pulled out her hair dryer. She lay back on the bed, to rest for a moment. She would look for Andrew, he said on the phone he would be there.
Amy smiled through mistiness on the elevator down. With her own eyes, she now saw the Bay, through each and every window, where Jessica gazed with her recovered gleam of delight. At one window, Amy gasped lightly, knowing at the moment she herself was really there, the place where she had seen it happen. She strolled slowly along under a lofty ceiling, through the open-air social space, and then turned through the doors to the walkway along the Bay. She leaned lightly against a modest sea wall, breathing in the sea air, lifting her arms to invite the sky to cut her knot free. Beyond the sea wall, a tidal mud flat stretched out to meet the lapping wavelets.
Walking along the seaside path, she thought of lunch, pestered by Grandma’s voice telling her to find a cheaper place – the food would be just as good. She passed a burger salad walk-in. No Grandma, not this time. She strolled back to the Marriot, determined, circling to the front door to replay the arrival, allowing the doormen to once again greet her entry. She almost melted this time.
Again, she walked gracefully, slowly, down the spiral staircase, looking out over the casual seating where Jessica sometimes met a friend. People lounged casually on couches, chatting with their companions about events in their wondrous lives. She focused for a second, glancing at the wall clock. Half way down the stairs she spotted Andrew, slouched back with his feet kicked up on a stool.