MEANWHILE, AMELIA HAD EVER-SO-CAREFULLY taken the right bus and she also managed to get off at the hospital stop. It was a gusty gloomy November day, and she had hours to kill. She went for a long walk, happily thinking about seeing Mike later and she lost track of time. The next thing she knew, time was running out and she had no idea where she was.
She started crying and ran up to a stranger on the street. “Where’s the hospital?” she shouted at him and grabbed his arm. He was elderly man and he looked startled and started to pull away. “Which way is it to the hospital?” she repeated, holding onto him.
The man jerked back and stared at her, his eyes wide.
“Are you deaf?” she yelled. “Which way is it to the hospital?”
A red car suddenly pulled up next to her. “Amelia?” It was Dr. Carroll. “What are you doing? The hospital’s in the other direction. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
Amelia pulled the car door open and sank down into the passenger seat, sobbing. “I got lost. I came early. I was doing so well. I took the right bus and everything and then I nearly messed it up again.” She hit herself on the forehead with her palm.
“Now, now, none of that,” Dr. Carroll said disapprovingly. “You took the right bus, you did well. In any therapy, there are times of regression although they aren’t necessarily regressions, they are further opportunities for learning new behaviours. Let’s look at what happened. You planned to get on the correct bus, you got here early, and then you took your eye off the ball? Right?”
“Yeah,” Amelia said. “But I don’t remember the moment when I took my eye off the ball. Next thing the ball had vanished and I was seven streets away from it.”
“That’s where meditation comes in.” Dr. Carroll grinned his hamster-grin and swung into the hospital parking lot. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to use your very experience in group today. It will help you too, you’ll see. It will solve a lot of issues.”
“I’ll look like an idiot,” Amelia said, following him into the hospital.
“No more than any one else in the room,” Dr. Carroll said cheerfully and he chuckled. “Don’t be so serious, Amelia. It’s not like you, or anyone else in the group has a life-threatening disease. There are people in here with cancer and all kinds of terminal illnesses. If anybody shouldn’t be laughing, it’s them, not you.”
“I should be laughing?”
“You should lighten up. Look, there’s Shannon, staring at the elevator. Let’s see if we can help her.”
“Shannon!” Dr. Carroll said and for a small man he had a loud if somewhat shrieky and high-pitched voice. “Going up? We’ll join you! How have your elevator experiences been this week?”
“Bad,” Shannon squeaked. “Bad. I haven’t…”
“Oh look, here it is, in we go.” Dr. Carroll bundled Shannon in and pulled Amelia in after him.
Amelia thought Shannon was going to die of respiratory failure. She was gasping and clutching at Dr. Carroll like a drowning guppy.
“It’s all good, it’s all good,” Dr. Carroll said as the elevator gave a clanging sound and the doors opened, one floor higher. “No, we’re not getting off here, one more to go. You’re doing superbly, you know that, well done! Well done!”
Shannon closed her eyes and buried her face in his chest.
“No, no,” he said, forcing her off him. “You must see it. You must experience it. Tell yourself, here I am, in an elevator, which could conceivably get stuck at any moment but even if it does, I won’t die. No one has ever died of suffocation in an elevator, did you know that? They die of accidents, like being mauled between the floors after their scarves or ties get caught in the doors. And a number of elevator technicians suffer a fair amount of work-related injuries but the average Joe, like you and me, we’re just fine! And look, we’re here.”
The doors opened and Shannon stumbled out, gasping.
“We should ride it down one more time, and then come up again,” Dr. Carroll said but Shannon rushed into the therapy room before he could grab her again.
“We don’t have time anyway,” Dr. Carroll mused as he followed her into the room and set his briefcase and plastic bag down next to his chair. “Right, roll call, people, roll call!”
Amelia looked around and saw Mike. He was waving at her, pointing to a chair next to him.
“I saved it for you,” he said, removing his sweater from the seat. “Hey, are you okay? Have you been crying?”
“I’m fine,” Amelia said. “Just fine.” She stared at the floor, thinking that Mike was even better looking than she remembered.
“Hmmm, we are missing Whitney, our neurotic housewife, and Alexei, our angry Russian,” Dr. Carroll said.
“They’re in the lavatory having sex,” Joanne told him. “I wanted to use it and before I could, they ducked in there together like school kids. I mean, really. There aren’t that many washrooms near this room. Couldn’t they find a broom closet or something?”
“I’ll go and get them,” Dr. Carroll said and when he got up, the group stood and followed him.
“All for one,” Joanne said with an evil smile on her twisted lips. “You followed me, now it’s their turn.”
Dr. Carroll shrugged and banged on the washroom door. “Alexei, Whitney, we know you’re in there. You’re late for therapy. Come out now. You can do this later.”
“Is he for real?” Mike whispered to Amelia who was wishing that it was her and Mike in the washroom.
The door opened and Alexei came out, zipping up his jeans, followed by Whitney who was pulling down her skirt.
“You’ve been at it for over half an hour,” Joanne said. “I timed you.”
“You wish it was you, lady,” Alexei said with fire in his eyes and he poked a finger in her direction. “But in only your dreams.”
“No anger, no anger,” Dr. Carroll said. “Okay everyone, back to group.”
“This is hilarious,” Gino said loudly to Shannon. “Want to have sex with me in a locked room? That would cure your claustrophobia big time!”
Shannon glared at him. “Don’t be such a pervert,” she snapped.
“People, people!” Dr. Carroll admonished, waving them to their seats. He ran a hand over his thinning hair. “Come now, a moment to regroup. There’s been a lot of excitement today in a short space of time. First, I found Amelia wandering the streets dazed and confused, and then together she and I helped Shannon take an elevator…”
“Helped? You forced me in! I still can’t breathe from the shock of it.”
“But you’re alive and well and you didn’t die or go nuts,” Dr. Carroll reminded her. “Therefore progress was made. And then we find two of our group engaging in coitus in the washroom. Tell me, Alexei, was it D.T.O.T. in action? You know, make love not war?”
Alexei looked confused. “Whitney is a sexy and beautiful woman,” he said. “What do you mean, D.T.O.T.? What is D.T.O.T.? You mean detox?”
Dr. Carroll sighed. “How quickly they forget. Do The Opposite Thing,” he said. “It was your homework for this week. It’s the basis of this course. What about you, Whitney? Was your having sex with Alexei an example of D.T.O.T. in action?”
She laughed. “Sorry, Dr. Carroll, but no. He’s hot as hell and you know what they say about therapy. Whatever goes on inside the cinder block walls of a madhouse, stays inside. It was just glorious fantastic sex.”
“Hmmmm,” Dr. Carroll said, and he jotted down some notes. “I posit that both of you were subliminally and subconsciously engaging in D.T.O.T. Sex, for Alexei, is the opposite of anger and for you, Whitney, it’s the opposite of anxiety. Good for you. Good for both you. Well done!”
“What?” Whitney and Alexei spoke at the same time, raising their objections, but Dr. Carroll dismissed their protests. “The beauty of D.T.O.T.,” he explained, “is that it shows you the pathway to your truest desires, your most pure self. Alexei, you aren’t an angry man. You’re a virile young man who likes to have sex and Whitney, you aren’t anxious. You are suppressed and crushed by the suburban stagnation of your life. Imagine if you could have sex with Alexei every day, wouldn’t your life improve? Wouldn’t you be happy? And, Alexei, imagine if you could have sex with Whitney every day? Of course I don’t mean you two specifically, because neither of you is capable, or desirous, of that kind of commitment. You both want sex with randy strangers in washrooms, which, by the way, is not exactly something either of you invented.”
“You’re saying that if I had sex every day with a stranger in a washroom that I’d be my happiest self?” Whitney asked.
“Well, tell me, wouldn’t you?”
A smile crossed Whitney’s face. “Sure, but it’s amoral.”
“Aha! Morality versus sanity! A whole different ball game to be explored and not one that concerns me in the least. What is morality anyway?”
“The fear of getting caught,” David, the businessman, offered.
“No, that’s consequence,” Dr. Carroll said.
“Religion is morality,” Ainsley piped up. She was the skinny blonde with the enormous engagement ring. “It’s against most religions to have sex with random people.”
“I’m not convinced that religion is morality, per se,” Dr. Carroll frowned. “What makes something truly wrong or evil? Think about it, people. But, most importantly, please pay attention to the fact that the events of this afternoon demonstrated beautifully how D.T.O.T. helps shine a light on the real truths of your hearts and psyches. I’ll say more about this in a moment. Now I’d like to go around the room and check in with everybody and then we can look at Amelia’s conundrum.”
Amelia was hoping he had forgotten about their encounter.
“Don’t worry,” Mike whispered. “If he gets weird, I’ll protect you.”
Amelia broke into a broad grin and relaxed in her chair.
“Chatty Mike, let’s start with you,” Dr. Carroll said, with a rodent smile. “How was your week? Did you talk to anybody on the phone?”
“Actually, I did,” Mike said. “I called a bunch of people and it got so easy that eventually people were trying to get me off the phone! I had fun with it. It was like because you had told me to do it, it took the fear away.”
“That’s because your secret desire is to talk to everyone. You’re a very sociable, likeable fellow and you like to talk and you love to be heard. Alexei and Whitney, we’re fully aware of how your week went.”
“But—” Again, they spoke at the same time, and again, he ignored them.
“Joanne, what’s the status on your weeping in the toilet?”
“I did not weep,” Joanne said, through gritted teeth. “I am still angry with you.”
“Joanne, you’re angry with the world,” Dr. Carroll said helpfully. “Depression, or sadness, is anger turned inward. If you started expressing your anger with the world to the world, you’d be a lot happier.”
“And a lot less employed,” Joanne commented and Dr. Carroll shrugged.
“The jobs of our choosing are not always the right ones for our personalities. You might be better off being a prison warden or, I don’t know, a policewoman, who knows. But there you go, food for thought.”
“Kwon, did you help out in your parents’ store?”
Kwon jiggled his leg. He shook his head.
“Can’t win ’em all,” Dr. Carroll said cheerfully.
“David, did you engage with any of your clients?”
“I did,” David said. “I felt like I said the wrong things, but one guy signed a new contract so I must have done something right.” He grinned.
“Hmmm,” Dr. Carroll said, “fear of accepting success. David, I want you to please stand up.”
David did so, hesitantly, not sure what was coming.
“Now, shout, as loudly as you can: I am David and I love the fact that I am a successful businessman!”
“I…” David started. “I can’t,” he said.
“You can, you can. Come on, group, shout at David until he gets going. You are David and you love the fact that you are a successful businessman!”
Alexei, Mike, and Gino joined in with gusto while the women looked on bemused and Kwon clearly wanted to melt through the linoleum floor.
“Okay, okay,” David yelled. “I am David and I LOVE THE FACT THAT I AM SUCCESSFUL BUSINESSMAN!” He shouted it three more times and Dr. Carroll had to pull him down into his seat.
“Good, good, well done. You should do that in the shower and in your car. But not in your office. Shannon, we all saw you take the elevator, so you’re good.”
Shannon glared at him.
“You want the world to hug you,” Dr. Carroll said. “You feel abandoned by life, lost and lonely. You think you suffer from claustrophobia when in reality, you feel forsaken in a desert of loneliness. Come on everyone, let’s hug Shannon.”
“No! No, no!” But Shannon’s protests were drowned in a group hug led by Gino.
“Get OFF me, you pervert!” Shannon yelled. She shoved Gino hard in the solar plexus with her elbow and he grunted loudly.
“Easy now,” Dr. Carroll said, assisting Gino back to his chair. “He was trying to help you, Shannon.”
“Help? He groped my buttocks!”
“He did? Gino, did you grope Shannon’s buttocks?”
Gino looked shamefaced. “I did,” he admitted. “I am sorry,” he said to her. “I think you are so beautiful.”
“That’s no reason to do it,” Dr. Carroll said musingly. “You know what the Buddhists say. Do not take that which is not freely given. Apologize, without any conditions of why you did it.”
“I apologize, Shannon,” Gino said. “I am sorry.”
“Gino, you feel as if the world doesn’t hear you and that’s why you’re afraid of talking. You are certain that if you speak, your fears will be validated and you will be universally rejected. You believe that you don’t have a voice worthy of hearing. Stand up and say: I have a voice and it has a message of importance.”
Gino stood up, and he smoothed the creases of his trousers and clasped his hands nervously. “I am Gino, and I have a voice of importance,” he whispered.
“It’s message not voice,” Dr. Carroll corrected him. “I have a voice and it has a message of importance. Louder, louder.”
“I HAVE A VOICE AND A MESSAGE OF IMPORTANCE,” Gino screamed and everybody in the room jumped.
“Very good,” Dr. Carroll said. “Group, we are making great strides today! I am delighted, just delighted. Moving on. Angelina, did you make an appointment and keep it?”
“No,” she whispered. “And don’t make me stand up and shout anything because I won’t.”
“Fair enough,” Dr. Carroll said. “Ainsley, did you leave the house and if you did, did you have a panic attack?”
“I left the house to go clubbing,” Ainsley said. “I took a tranquillizer to go out and then, when I got to the club, I got drunk. When I drink, I don’t panic and so I drank.”
“Not optimal,” Dr. Carroll said disapprovingly. “Next time, leave the house and suffer. Endure the panic attack. That would be worth much more than trying to numb yourself. Ask yourself, Ainsley, what are you trying to avoid? Your dead-end future with your fiancé?”
Ainsley gasped. “How dare you!” She stood up. “I’m leaving. Screw you Mr. High-and-Mighty. You think you know everything but you don’t know shit! How dare you!”
She grabbed her purse and marched out.
“Guess I hit a nerve,” Dr. Carroll said, making a note on his chart. “Always good to elicit a strong reaction. Next, Persephone, did you leave the house?”
“It was too cold,” Persephone said. “I couldn’t.”
“I am noting resistance and passive aggression,” Dr. Carroll said. “Be that as it may for the moment. I’d like to turn our attention to Amelia here. I believe that we can all benefit today by exploring her actions earlier. Tell us, in your own words, what happened to you today.”
“I can hardly use anybody else’s words, can I?” Amelia retaliated and Dr. Carroll chuckled.
“Diversionary conversation won’t work,” he said, tapping his knee with his plump fingers. “Use any words you like, but tell us what happened.”
“I left the house early,” Amelia said with a sigh. “I didn’t want to be late.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Around ten,” Amelia admitted and the group gave an audible collective gasp and she turned on them. “What? I wanted to be here on time.”
“Fair enough,” Dr. Carroll said. “And you got here when?”
“Just before eleven.”
And then what happened?”
“I don’t know.” Amelia sounded miserable. “I guess I thought I had time, so I’d go for a walk. It’s a nice day outside.”
“It’s frickin’ freezing,” Persephone butted in. “I know you think I was making excuses for not leaving the house, Dr. Carroll but I wasn’t. I work from home. I had no reason to leave the house. My boyfriend brings whatever groceries I need, so why should I leave the house?” She raised her giant albino batwinged arms above her head and adjusted her ponytail.
“We’re not talking about you right now,” Dr. Carroll said gently. “But we can return to you later. Amelia, I concur with Persephone. It’s not a pleasant day for a walk. It’s unseasonably windy and blustery.”
Amelia shook her head. “I don’t notice things like that. I’ve got a condition I inherited from my dad, although I don’t have it as badly as he does. He doesn’t feel the cold at all whereas I do a bit, but not much. I don’t mind being in the rain either. I love walking in the rain or going to the beach on wet and windy winter days. It’s much more beautiful than in the summer time.”
“Hmmm,” Dr. Carroll said. “Let’s backtrack. The thought occurred to you to go for a walk and then you lost track of time and the next thing you remember, you were late for the group and I drove past you in the car and saw you shouting at some poor old fellow.”
“I didn’t mean to shout,” Amelia said. “I just wanted to know which direction the hospital was in and he wouldn’t tell me.”
“Perhaps he was startled to have a young girl yelling and screaming in his face,” Dr. Carroll commented. “But let’s look into this more deeply. Do you often arrive that early for appointments?”
“Um, no,” Amelia admitted. “But I wanted to make sure I was on time for this one. I wanted to factor in any deviations but then my calculations failed anyway.”
“No,” Dr. Carroll said. “I think that you wanted to be here very much and you wanted to establish that here was still here. I believe there are levels of impermanence in your life that threaten the very foundations of your trust. You’re so deathly afraid of finding out that things have vanished, that you go out of your way to avoid looking at them. Does that make any sense?”
“I’m not sure I do understand,” Amelia admitted. “I admit that I don’t believe that this world is the way most people think it is. But more than that perplexing me, I am terrified that everything is so deathly boring. Most people are so bored and so boring. Their lives are prison cells and they don’t even know it.”
“Maybe they’re happy,” Dr. Carroll suggested.
“At what cost? They don’t even know the cost. Their freedom, their choice, their sense of adventure is destroyed daily and they don’t even know it.”
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere,” Dr. Carroll said. “Freedom, choice, and sense of adventure. Tell me, did you take the wrong buses this week?”
“No, I took the right ones,” Amelia said in a small voice. “But it exhausted me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and Mike looked at her in concern.
“Your knight in shining armour,” Dr. Carroll commented, catching the look and Amelia looked up in confusion.
“Him!” Dr. Carroll pointed. “He wants to protect you from yourself, from your fears. But he only wants to do it because it will make him feel good about himself. He wants to be the quarterback hero, saving the day on big screen TV, his hair blowing in the breeze, endorsements flooding in.”
“Not true,” Mike flushed.
“Is so,” Dr. Carroll countered. “That’s what you want in life: the cheerleaders and the accolades. And you’re afraid that if you express yourself, voice what you really think, then none of the fame and glory will happen and you’ll be crushed, so you’d rather sit on the sidelines in silence. But here, you have a perfect vessel for the validation of your fantasies of being Captain America. A tiny fragile girl, tremulous and vulnerable, waiting for you to rescue her. Only you aren’t any of those things, Amelia, are you? Fragile and tremulous and vulnerable. You’re a big adventurer, a warrior, and your biggest fear is that no adventures or battles await you. You fear that more than death.”
Amelia looked at him wide-eyed. “Yes, but so what? I mean it’s true but you say it like it’s wrong or irrational. Your way of looking at the world is wrong, if you ask me.”
“Wrong, right, right, wrong,” Dr. Carroll shook his head. “Everybody’s so hung up on right and wrong, good and bad. I say do what’s true for you. If you want adventure, don’t get on the wrong buses for god’s sake. Take an ocean liner to Alaska, go and live large, girl. Go and volunteer in Africa, look for exotic snakes in the Amazon, sail hot air balloons over Egypt.”
“None of that interests me.” Amelia was scornful. “I am talking about freedom of the mind. Something entirely different.”
“I see. So because you get on random buses, work strange hours of the day and night, have picnics in the snow and the rain, this makes you free? What’s the difference? Think about it. But we’re done for the moment, we need to move on. You’ve got lots of food for thought. Chew on it or spit it out, it’s up to you.” He looked carefully around the group.
“So, people!” He clapped his hands. “Mindfulness. We all need mindfulness in our lives! Why? Because then we become cognizant and fully present. As you know, I’m not a great fan of the meditation bit, but it’s a necessary evil. Studies have shown that it works. Today we are going to focus on sound. Close your eyes and focus on the sounds that you can hear. Don’t think ‘oh, there’s an announcement or a siren or a bird,’ just acknowledge whatever the sound is, and then return to your mindfulness. Meditation is not about making lists. It’s about finding the spaces between lists and thought. I will ring the bell and set the alarm.”
“Fabulous,” Joanne muttered and Gino grinned at her.
“One day you’ll look back on this and think that man saved my life,” Dr. Carroll commented. “And I accept your grateful thanks now. Okay, here we go.” He rang a bell and the group closed their eyes.
Amelia shut her eyes, grateful to escape for a moment. She wondered if there was any truth to what Dr. Carroll had said and whether her assumptions about freedom were indeed valid. She tried to recall how it had started. Could she have inherited this anomaly of thought from her father just as she had inherited her lack of sensitivity to temperature?
So when Mike ran his fingers along her leg and gently took her hand in his, she was caught utterly unaware. Her eyes flew open and she turned to him, her face close to his. He took a quick glance around and seeing that everyone else still had their eyes shut, he leaned in and kissed her. His lips touched hers gently and then his tongue probed hers and next thing they were kissing full on, trying not to make any noise.
Considering that it was her first real kiss, Amelia thought that she did pretty well. She was first to pull back, worried the others would see them. When she opened her eyes, she saw Angelina watching them, grinning, her chins wobbling. Amelia let go of Mike and tried to scoot away, but Angelina shook her head and gave a thumbs ups. Mike grinned at Amelia and rubbed his foot on her leg and then the alarm bell rang and Dr. Carroll woke up and straightened his pullover.
“How was that for everyone?” He asked and the group muttered an assembly of replies.
“I know. It sort of kills the mood,” Dr. Carroll said, yawning. “Meditation sucks the life right out of a person, if you ask me.” He looked at his watch. “Hmm, time flies, time flies. So, homework for this week, continue doing D.T.O.T. with regards to whatever your specific case is and try to find new ways in which to express your voices. I want to hear a list of the things you did, not what you thought about doing. Any questions? Persephone,” he said, “back to you for a moment. Next week, I want to hear that you left the house even if there was a snowstorm or a blizzard. Get out there and make a snowman or something, lemonade. You know, make lemonade. Are you with me?”
Persephone looked sulky and confused.
“Any questions?” There was silence. “We’ve done well today, group, well done! Off you go then, get out there and Do The Opposite Thing!”
Almost as one, the group rushed for the door.
“Stairs,” Mike said to Amelia and they rushed down the seven flights of stairs and staggered out into the large lounge area adjoining the cafeteria.
They sank down into chairs, breathing hard, as if they had run a race.
Neither of them spoke for a while and Amelia wondered if Mike would say anything about their incredible kiss.
“What the fuck?” Mike eventually said, running his hand through his hair. “This shit is crazy. Excuse me, Amelia, I don’t usually swear so much but is this guy for real?”
Amelia shook her head. “He’s a genius or the devil,” she said.
“Or both,” Mike said.
They sat in silence for a bit. Amelia was trying to find a way to ask him something and he was trying to find a way to tell her.
“Amelia—” he began, and she knew the answer to her question.
“It’s okay,” she said, getting up, quickly. “I understand. I really do. See you next week?”
He nodded and she rushed out into the cold wind and she ran to the bus station, wishing she had asked Nana to fetch her instead.
“Concentrate,” she told herself. “Today is not the day for adventures, just get home to Nana, okay? Concentrate. No wrong buses, no wrong stops.” She talked herself onto the right bus and was surprised to find that her teeth were chattering. It couldn’t be from the cold, she didn’t feel the cold. No, it was the shock of everything that had happened. “Concentrate, where’s your stop? Look and listen. Don’t lose concentration.”
She got off at the right stop, ran home, and flung herself at Ethel in despair.
“Oh Nana, he’s got a girlfriend!” She looked despairing at her grandmother and ran upstairs to her bedroom.
Ethel waited for half an hour and then she followed Amelia upstairs, a cup of tea in hand. “Tell me what happened, dear.”
“Nothing happened,” Amelia said, her face in the pillow. She sat up and took the cup of tea. “Okay, not exactly nothing. He kissed me during the meditation and then, afterwards, when the group ended, he just said ‘Amelia’ and then I knew.”
Ethel knew better than to question Amelia’s intuition. If Amelia said that one word had carried the weight of a hundred words, then Ethel believed her.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m very sorry.”
“The whole group is so weird, Nana. There’s this big Russian guy and he got caught having sex with this fat old woman — she’s there for anxiety and he’s there because he’s got anger issues. And the doctor said it was good, what they were doing! And then he told a girl that her engagement was giving her panic attacks and she left. He’s very argumentative.”
“I’ve never heard of a therapist being so forthright,” Ethel mused. “But maybe that’s the secret to his success.”
“He can’t seem to figure me out,” Amelia was glum. “Oh, I wish I was normal. Maybe Mike would like me if I was normal.”
“Obviously he likes you, dear. He kissed you. Him having a girlfriend doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like you. And remember this, not that I should say it, but girlfriends can be broken up with. He just met you. Wait and see how things unfold.”
“But I’m too weird,” Amelia said. “And there are no benefits to my weirdness. Look at Dad. At least he’s contributing to the world with his poems. I don’t fit in and I don’t contribute either.”
“Sweetie, you’re twenty-two. When your father was twenty-two, he wasn’t contributing anything either. And there are different definitions to what contributing means. Look at your granddad. He didn’t do anything literary or spectacular but he contributed by being a good, honest, loving man. He made the world a better place when he was in it, and that’s not something you can say about most people. Besides, you’ve got Joan of Arc and your studies. You’re doing so well.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m saying anything other people haven’t said before. I thought I was onto something unique but the research isn’t supporting me and I feel like that’s a dead end too. I want to matter, Nana. What’s the point if you don’t matter?”
Ethel was silent for a moment. “You have to do what matters in life to you, Amelia. And you’ll figure that out, I know you will because you’re too smart not to. In the meantime, don’t give up on Mike yet, because you don’t know. I’m going to lie down, I feel a bit tired, I don’t know why.”
Amelia was immediately concerned. “Oh Nana, I am sorry.” She put her cup down. “Do you need me to do anything, get you anything?”
“I’m fine, sweetie. I’m seventy, not exactly a spring chicken!”
“But you never get tired.”
“Everybody gets tired. I might have a bit of a flu. What are you going to do with yourself? I don’t like you to be up here, miserable.”
“I think I’ll go for a walk,” Amelia said. “Maybe walk to the gym and watch Mom do her weird body flexing stuff.”
“Take your phone with you, in case you get sidetracked and you need me to come and get you,” Ethel reminded her.
“I will, but I mustn’t get sidetracked. I must work on being normal. I want to be a normal person.”
“You’re perfect as you are,” Ethel said. “It’s the world that’s odd, but it’s the only world we’ve got.” She kissed Amelia on the head and went to her room.
Ethel wondered, as she lay down, if she should see a doctor but it seemed like too much effort. It was true that her stomach had been worrying her for a while and she didn’t really think she had the flu but she was too tired to get checked out. I’m sure it will get better, she thought. It just needs to work its way out of my system. She was soon asleep.
Amelia slipped out of the house and locked the door. Despite what she had said to Ethel, she was craving escape, her kind of escape. It was late evening and it had begun to rain and Amelia smiled and headed towards the bus stop.
It was a perfect day to go the beach.
The lake was black and blustery when she arrived. The wind was strong, causing the breakers to crash onto the rocks with a flourish of exuberant wild white spray. The rain was a film of fine drizzle and the trees were black skeletons that glistened under the lights that lined the deserted boardwalk. The clouds were layered, like thick charcoal batting that played heave-ho with chalk and thick granite. The lights were on in the washrooms even although they were locked for the season and the pumpkin-lantern warmth of the yellow windows made Amelia feel happy and cheered. She turned her face up towards the falling rain, loving the lit cones of raindrops that fanned out from the lamps.
She strolled along and thought about Mike. What a kiss! She relived the moment when he leaned in, that fraction of a second when she thought she knew what was about to happen but she couldn’t quite believe it. Then she thought he’d change his mind but there was the softness of his lips when he didn’t, and that electrical magic of his tongue greeting hers. The perfect angles of their faces, that locked moment of togetherness and the reluctant pulling apart. He was so beautiful, so perfect! She hoped Nana was right, that girlfriends could be broken up with.
She passed a man with a dog, a huge golden retriever. The dog wagged its tail and tried to reach Amelia’s outstretched hand but the man jerked the dog away, yanking the leash hard.
“Perfect night, wouldn’t you say?” Amelia said politely to the man and he lowered his umbrella and hurried along.
Amelia stretched her arms out wide and imagined that hordes of summer-time beach revelers were lining the boardwalk. She imagined their picnic tables loaded with hot dogs, drinks, and salads. Their children were throwing Frisbees and playing with the family dogs. Bicycles, coolers, barbecues, baskets, umbrellas, towels, and shoes were strewn about, like a haphazard summer blanket on the beach sand and green grass.
The rain continued to fall and the darkness thickened and the clouds obscured the moon but Amelia felt happy, surrounded by the ghosts of happy people that she could see so clearly, with everyone enjoying themselves.
It’s as if, she thought, those moments of joy are captured in time, and I’m the only one who can see them. And I get to play them over and over again, like a home movie except that I can step into the movie and become part of it. I don’t ever want to lose this, no matter how ‘normal’ I need to pretend to be. This is my special magic, when time and place and people come to me, and I can see them and they’re never lost.
She walked among hot dog vendors, and she watched sunbathers baking in bikinis while kids wheeled around on tricycles and old folks ate ice creams.
She walked through teams of little kids playing soccer in the central field, ringed by parents in camping chairs She walked past the tennis courts and heard the sound of balls being volleyed back and forth with that unmistakable and particular thuk thuk thuk.
She passed the lawn bowlers in their traditional whites, stooping to roll their balls. She entered the park and saw the immigrant families having their reunions, dressed in saris and clothes from home, firing up barbecues and chatting.
And finally, soaked to the bone, her thin T-shirt glued to her, her hair dripping, she caught the bus back home. She knew she was being stared at but she did not care. She was replete.