They walked on in silence, crossing 66th street, which was free of traffic in the early morning hour, and made their way down Basset walk. Tess’s stride hastened, as she was sheltered from the wind by the trees on both sides of her. The walk was narrow enough that they had to walk single file and when Tess looked back, Lyla was a few feet behind her. Tess couldn’t tell if she was keeping her distance on purpose or if she couldn’t keep up.

  “You’re a mother, too,” Lyla said when they were in stride again. “You threw that comment at me once, if you remember. So while you pretend not to understand my concern, I believe that you do see my point of view and would do the same.”

  “My son is a grown man,” Tess said. “He makes his own decisions and I accept them whatever they are.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Lyla said. “While your son is thousands of miles away, it’s easy to preach that grown-man stuff. But if he were here in Mill Basin with you and destroying his life, I’d like to see you mind your business.”

  She was too cold to argue with Lyla any longer. Who was to say what one would do in a situation until one was in it?

  “Do you miss your husband?” Tess asked.

  Lyla was quiet for a few moments so that Tess wasn’t sure if she’d heard her.

  “Do you miss—”

  “We lived our separate lives,” Lyla said, her voice barely a whisper so that Tess had to slow her pace and move closer to Lyla.

  “Did he want Neal to go to the monastery?” Tess said.

  “We didn’t talk about it much,” Lyla said. “It happened quickly—Neal started to feel that he should go and then he visited with the monks for a bit and then he left. It wasn’t something that we had planned for.”

  “Did you want Neal to go?” Tess said.

  Lyla walked on in silence again. They crossed Mayfair Drive North and moved towards 56th Drive. Tess couldn’t tell if her body had acclimated to the cold now or if the temperature had warmed up a bit. The morning dew was lifting and the sun began to peep through the clouds. In the distance, she saw a runner making his way down 66th Street from 56th Drive. Lyla must have seen the runner too as she came to a halt, Tess stopping beside her.

  “I suppose that I was relieved when he decided that the monastery was for him,” Lyla said.

  They were moving again, in the direction that the runner had just left. Lyla was walking slower now and Tess supposed it was to give the runner, who they both assumed to be Neal, time to get ahead. They had yet to encounter him while they were out together. Tess dabbed at her sniffling nose with a tissue she pulled from her coat pocket. Her nostrils were raw to the touch.

  “Relieved?” Tess said.

  “That my job of raising him was over,” Lyla said.

  “He was 22. Your job was over,” Tess said.

  “Not with Neal. He was very young for his age, very innocent. He had never had a girlfriend you know,” Lyla said. “He had never gone out with his friends as other boys his age did. He was content to read, go to church. He kept to himself.”

  “Surely if Neal hadn’t joined the monastery he would have found his way,” Tess said.

  “I think that he always knew he was destined for a religious life although he may not have understood that until he grew older,” Lyla said.

  “He seems to have adapted well to everything now,” Tess said.

  “He’s had you in his life. A worldly, wealthy woman to teach him.”

  “I love how you think you can sum me up in a few words without really knowing me. And don’t give me your I know you well, junk. You don’t. My relationship with Neal is something that happened – it’s no one’s fault,” Tess said.

  “You let it happen even once you knew he was a monk,” Lyla said. “That was your choice.”

  “No one chooses who they like. You just like certain people.”

  “You could have stayed away,” Lyla said.

  “Did you ever ask him what he wanted? Why he came back home?”

  In the distance, Tess saw a man running at the intersection of Mayfair Drive and Mill Avenue.

  “He came back home because he needed time to think. Which is what he would have done if you didn’t come along.”

  “If it were up to you, you would have shipped him back to the monastery already,” Tess said.

  “That’s where he belongs,” Lyla said.

  “Because you say so? Did you confer with God and did He tell you ‘I want Neal back?’ Neal belongs wherever he chooses to be. It’s his life. His decisions. You can’t send him away because it’s easier for you to be alone. It has nothing to do with you, Lyla.”

  Tess started walking again and after a few moments Lyla was beside her.

  “I don’t hate you, Tess,” Lyla said.

  “I can’t keep up with your mood swings, Lyla. We’re enemies, we’re friends. I don’t know what you want from me,” Tess said.

  “You’re so free and so successful,” Lyla said.

  “Lyla, my life has been full of ups and downs and lots of my own induced messes. Just like anyone else’s life. You can’t judge another person’s life on what you perceive it to be,” Tess said.

  “You have all these men chasing you and this business to run,” Lyla said.

  “None of that defines me.”

  “If Neal were to spend his life with a woman, I would want it be you. But Neal doesn’t belong with a woman,” Lyla said.

  Tess swallowed hard and deep. This was a compliment. Lyla was paying her a compliment.

  “It’s not for us to say what Neal should or shouldn’t do,” Tess said. “When will you understand that?”

  “Neal chose to be a man of God. One cannot go back on that,” Lyla said.

  “But he did, Lyla. He did go back on it. And you know what? God seems to be okay with it because Neal hasn’t been struck by lightning and the heavens haven’t parted and sent down a rope ladder to take him back,” Tess said.

  “Oh what do you know, Tess? What do you know about God and right and wrong? You think you have all the answers, but you don’t.”

  “I don’t,” Tess said.

  The evergreens on Barlow drive were full of icicles, so that the weighted down branches looked tired, heavy. They were a few feet away from Lyla’s home. The houses surrounding 56 Barlow Drive were decked with Christmas lights and the house next door to Lyla’s had a menorah in the window. Lyla’s home had no decorations. Tess paused in front of 56. Lyla took her house keys out from her pocket and dawdled by the edge of the driveway with Tess.

  “So much happens in a lifetime,” Lyla said. Her eyes were on Tess now. “Dreams get lost and you just become whatever you are even if it’s not what you planned on being. Your son goes to a monastery, your husband dies, and then your son returns.”

  “Nothing gets lost. People leave us, but they don’t fully go away. Dreams get misplaced and it’s up to you to uncover them. And sometimes what were once your dreams, no longer are. So you assess what you want in life and create new dreams.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself?” Lyla said.

  “That’s what I know,” Tess said.

  Their eyes lingered on one another’s for a few moments before Lyla nodded with an uncharacteristically faraway look in her eyes, and made her way up to her porch.

  Chapter 58: Whatever Will Be, Will Be

  Tess had driven around for nearly thirty minutes—up and around 48th street, 49th street, down Fifth Avenue and up the Avenue of the Americas, taxi cabs cutting her off, city busses veering into her lane, before she had pulled into a parking garage. She was already running a few minutes late to meet Dale and was tired of circling the same blocks with no luck. New York City during Christmas time was not a place to deal with finding a parking spot. She couldn’t remember the last time she had played hooky from work on a weekday and as soon as she was out of her car, moving along the bustling city streets in her stilettos amidst men and women bundled up in coats, scarves and gloves, some of the men coatless in just their suits, she felt alive and giddy. When Dale had called her that morning to see if she couldn’t convince Tess to join her in the city—to go to see the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, take an afternoon yoga class—she had shocked herself by saying yes, making a U-turn before reaching Best Realty and getting on the Belt Parkway.

  “You’re doing what?” Michael had said when she rang him in the office. “Taking a personal health day?” She laughed now. The endless rows of office buildings offered a shield against the snapping wind so that Tess loosened her red cashmere scarf.

  She spotted the Atlas Shrugged statue across from St. Patrick’s Cathedral with mobs of people surrounding it, snapping photographs. Not yet 9:00 am and Manhattan was a tourist haven. Crossing the street, making her way through the crowds to the heart of Rockefeller Center, she glimpsed the Christmas tree—grand and glamorous with its array of colored lights—shimmying and swaying in the wind, as if it were shivering. There were skaters of all ages scattered around the rink with crowds surrounding the rink on all sides, taking it all in. Joy. That seemed to be the atmosphere around her and she marveled at the thought that she had almost spent her day tucked away in an office, away from all of this life, this energy. She made her way through the multitudes of bundled up onlookers and the carts setting up to sell roasted chestnuts and warm, supersized pretzels. The aromas filtered through her, warming her and stirring her stomach with their burnt and doughy scents. There, by the third trumpeting snow angel lining the path to the Christmas tree, she spotted Dale waving to her, a pale pink pom-pom hat with ear flaps on her head.

  Tess hugged her tight—she couldn’t remember ever greeting someone with so much affection, so that when the thought registered with her, she felt slightly embarrassed and pulled away, but Dale kept clinging to her.

  “You’re here! You came,” she said. “I got Tess to play hooky from work! I can’t believe it.”

  “Thank you for reminding me that there’s life outside of an office,” Tess said.

  “We can skate,” Dale said and the moment she said it both she and Tess squinted their eyes, shook their heads. It was cold, crowded. “Or we can warm up inside and have some breakfast,” Dale said.

  “Let’s walk a bit,” Tess said. “I’d love to go see the Christmas window displays.”

  They made their way up Fifth Avenue, arms linked, crossing to the east side of the street and pausing by Saks Fifth Avenue’s windows to glance at the already crowded Santa’s Workshop displays, complete with Jingle Bells booming through loudspeakers. They moved further along up towards Bergdorf Goodman, where Tess marveled over the paper props of Christmas trees and cut out snowflakes. She lingered by the window decked with countless time pieces—clocks of all shapes and sizes, some antique, some modern; grandfather clocks, miniature alarm clocks; the backdrop a giant-sized calendar of all twelve months.

  “If a window display could sum up my life, this would be the one,” Tess said. “Years of rushing from one appointment to the next and setting my alarm clock to get up before dawn so that I had time to do whatever it is that I had to do before I rushed into the office. So much preoccupation with time.”

  They made their way up Fifth Avenue and entered Central Park at 59th street, moving past a row of artists selling caricatures and portraits. Dale shook her head no to the artists who approached them. They moved past the ramp onto the 6.2 mile loop, looking both ways before they crossed to the inside lane, safe from the darting cyclists and horse-drawn carriages. Runners passed them on either side, some dressed in shorts and t-shirts in the near freezing temperatures, others decked in tight fitting running pants and fleece tops. Tess smiled thinking of Neal in his track pants and sweatshirt as he ran up and down the streets of Mill Basin.

  “Any status on Neal’s staying or going?” Dale said.

  “No. His mother is convinced that he belongs at the monastery.”

  “What do you think?” Dale said.

  “I’m too caught up in trying to figure out where I belong,” Tess said.

  “What are your choices?” Dale said.

  “Lately I’ve been thinking about going back to

  Woodstock and spending some time there.”

  “As in you’re thinking about moving?” Dale asked.

  “Maybe. The house up there is beautiful and there’s so much land and space. Prakash is going to join me there for a few weeks—we’re meeting for New Year’s Eve. I could teach yoga up there and take long walks and read and live a little bit.”

  “Wow,” Dale said.

  She pulled Dale out of the way of a cyclist who was heading toward them. Walkers passed them and Tess glanced down at her heels. Her feet were holding up. She could always buy a pair of sneakers if they hurt. In the past, she had been able to walk for miles in her heels, but ever since she had gotten involved in yoga, she was a bit more precious with her feet.

  “Did I mention yet that Lyla thinks I should have never divorced Michael?”

  “Since when did she fall for Michael?” Dale said.

  “Since my mess of a Thanksgiving dinner,” Tess said. “That was on my check list to share with you. Thanksgiving eve Lyla and Michael became best friends and I had a night of hot, steamy sex with Neal.”

  “What?” Dale said, stopping to face Tess. “You are full of surprises today.”

  “Of course afterwards I felt needy. Then desperate thinking that he is going to leave and I will be all alone. Then I was desperate thinking that he might stay and I would be stuck with him forever and what if I couldn’t keep him happy?” Tess laughed. “I don’t understand how after all of these years and all of this introspection I can still be so nuts.”

  “We’re all nuts,” Dale said. “You’re just better at articulating your insanity.”

  “I’m already tired of talking about me. Tell me something new about you,” Tess said.

  “I’m going to move in with Kyle,” Dale said. “We spent Thanksgiving weekend together and while I’m not ready to get married right now, I want to live with him, give it a try. He’s going to call you this week about a brownstone he found in the East Village that he wants to buy. We’re going to move in together as soon as we can and not worry about getting married or any of that just yet. One thing at a time.”

  Tess shook her head. “Wow to you.” She hugged Dale’s arm tighter and rested her head on her shoulder. “I’m thrilled for you, Dale. You’ve made a decision and you seem calm and happy about it.”

  “I am happy,” Dale said. “I’ve decided not to over think things and just do what feels right. This feels right for me. Kyle agrees—he’s open to seeing what happens and not worrying so much about the planning and the details. There are no guarantees in life, so why not just move in the direction of what feels right?” Dale said.

  “No guarantees for sure,” Tess said.

  They came around the bend and crossed over the east 72nd street entrance to the park, dodging cyclists and runners at the intersection as they made their way up the little hill, approaching the Central Park Boat House.

  There were runners congregating by the bathroom of the Boat House, moving in place in the cold, little puffs of air coming out of their mouths as they waited in line and made small talk. Tess thought of Neal, how he would enjoy running in Central Park in the morning and taking in all the sights and people. If he stayed on, she would take him there as soon as the weather warmed up. Perhaps take a stroll around the loop while he ran.

  “Should we have lunch here?” Dale suggested. “I haven’t eaten here in ages.”

  Tess led the way into the Boat House. There were people scattered throughout the restaurant eating and sipping from coffee cups. The overhead heaters were on, the ceiling fans attempting to circulate the heat, but the wooden building was cool and damp. They were seated at a table by the window, overlooking the lake. It had been years since Tess had been here to eat—she recalled some business luncheons and a few engagement parties and bridal showers at various points in her life. The lake was still. In the distance Tess could make out a few ducks drifting along, the canoes piled up by the shore, locked together. She remembered the day, month’s back, when she and Neal sat by that shore and watched couples and families paddle by on the lake. There were still so many possibilities back then, before she knew he was a monk, before the future had come upon them. She snuggled in her coat and tightened her scarf around her neck to keep out the slight breeze that seeped in through the windowpane.

  “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve done more damage to Neal than good,” Tess said.

  “You’ve allowed him to be himself, to lose some of the structures that his mother and the Church most likely built around him,” Dale said.

  Tess shrugged. “Either that or I’ve perpetuated his confusion.”

  “You’ve helped me to find my way. Just by being in my life and not thinking I’m crazy or telling me what to do. You’ve made me feel more normal,” Dale said.

  “Well that’s good news. I don’t feel too normal myself and I’m sure that Lyla would tell you I’m nuts, as would Michael. When I told him that I might move up to Woodstock and leave him in charge at my company, you should have heard him. He thinks I’ve lost it once and for all,” Tess said.

  “He probably feels left out that you didn’t ask him to join you,” Dale said.

  The waiter took their order: French toast with fresh berries and a bagel with cream cheese for Dale and an egg white omelet with spinach for Tess, fruit instead of hash browns and hold the toast, to which Dale told him to please bring the toast with lots of strawberry jam on the side.

  “I’m a growing girl with a carbohydrate fetish,” Dale said when the waiter left.

  “Power to you,” Tess said.

  “Have you told Neal about your trip to Woodstock?”

  “It hasn’t come up yet,” Tess said.

  “It hasn’t come up yet or you haven’t brought it up?” Dale asked.

  “I don’t want him to think it’s an invitation or that I’m giving him an ultimatum or any of that type of stuff,” Tess said.

 

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