Ask For Something

Alexandru D. Moise
January 23, 2021, Firenze

Adam paced slowly around the arrivals section of the San Francisco International Airport. He’d come half an hour early even though he knew for sure that the flight would be late. Still, he couldn’t help it. He’d been here for an hour now. And as he waited, subtle doubts started to creep in from the back of his mind. Was she really on that flight? Will she really be popping out of those sliding doors any moment now? It was hard to believe. He just couldn’t picture it. Of course, they’d talked through all the details. She’d confirmed catching the connecting flight in Amsterdam. And her phone had been off for the previous 10 hours. All the logical pieces were in place. And yet his mind refused to fully grasp the reality of it all. It had been 10 years since he last saw Helga. Yet when she burst into his field of vision, his same old neural pathways lit up in their long-lost dance of delight, recognition, and excitement. His breathing got faster and a smile erupted on his face. She spotted him walking towards her. Her face was stiff. He could read a bit of confusion, a tinge of fear. He hoped to see joy, but her forced smile rather indicated embarrassment. A wordless hug, loosely squeezed. To his “it’s nice to see you”, she replied with “yes”, and after a short pause, “you too”. As they walked to the car, he couldn’t stop 1 staring at her. She looked either straight ahead, or when she met his gaze, looked down, or frowned. He was beaming. She’d aged well, he thought, just as he predicted. In her 40s she looked to be 30, and now in her 50s she looked like a healthy 40 year old. Some of her wrinkles got deeper, but she still refused to wear make-up. He loved that about her. Her pitch black hair was probably dyed, but it was a good representation of the real thing as he remembered it. Most importantly, her face still retained its child-like quality. She was cute. And she was slowly turning into a cute old lady. Adam helped her with her bags in the car, and during the half hour drive to his place they exchanged no words. None were necessary. She stared out the window. He paid attention to traffic. Or at least seemed to do so. His mind was floating in a delightful hormonal cocktail. If she’d looked his way, Helga would have seen over a dozen smiles erupting on his face, then fading again as he became self aware. “You’ll like it here”, he said, as he pulled in to the driveway of the small house he was renting. “People here are more relax, happier. It rubs off on you”. She was still staring out the window. But he knew she heard him. “We’re about a 30 minute walk from the ocean.” The house was small but modern. He’d moved in just a week earlier and so it still had that impersonal feeling to it, like a vacation rental. As he opened the door, they were greeted by a chonky black cat. He’d kept that a surprise. She turned around and he saw her first real smile spread across her face. She knelt gently and waited for the cat to come to her. “His name is Ishmael, but he prefers to be called Ishy. He’s been with me for two years now”. Ishy gave Helga’s outstretched hand a head-rub, and came closer to her feet. She pet him gently. When Adam came back with the bags, she hadn’t moved an inch. “We can adopt more”, he said. “I told you, there are no rules”. She looked at him - still suspicious, he thought. He thought he didn’t like the way her ‘thank you’ sounded, but there was nothing to do about it. He knew he had to be patient. She sat on the sofa in the living room. He leaned against the kitchen counter. Was she tired? No. Did she want something to eat? No. Would she like some wine? Yes. He opened a bottle of Cabernet and poured two glasses. It was barely past noon, but her sense of time was distorted. For him, time had ceased to exist since the morning. He showed her around the house. His room was on the ground floor. Hers was on the first floor, along with another, smaller, guest room, and a personal bathroom. Ishy followed them up. Helga inspected her room. She put the wine glass on the nightstand and lay down on top of the sheets on the bed. Within moments she was asleep. Ishy jumped up next to her and curled into a ball. Adam stood in the door frame and watched her for a second, and then an eternity, and then another second. He eventually found himself on the sofa, downstairs, reading. He put on some jazz, not too loud. Charles Mingus and Thelonius Monk took turns playing with the slight valences of his mood. When he heard her get up, the sun had already set, and he started to make dinner. She came down wearing old pajama pants and a loose t-shirt. Her wet hair was dripping slightly on her shirt and on the floor. He was just getting the roasted vegetables out of the oven. She poured herself another glass of wine. They sat down to eat. Beautiful silence. He told her his schedule. He’d leave for work in the morning, and would usually be back by 6. She was free to do as she pleased. He told her of the various walking paths around - through the small forest and to the beach. To get to town she’d need a bus. But she could eventually get a license, and he could get her a used car. He pointed to the card on the kitchen counter. It had the pin on a piece of paper. He said it should be enough, but that she could tell him if it wasn’t. He’d take care of all their common expenses. That was just for her. She listened, chewed, and nodded. They’d discussed this before. All the necessary words had been spoken, or were anyway understood. He just felt he had to get it out of the way. She sealed the conversation with a ‘thank you’, and they never talked about money again. After dinner they went for a walk. The air was getting cooler, and Adam put on a light jacket; Helga went for a hoodie. They walked in silence, with Adam leading the way. Each was lost in their own world. Their worlds exchanged little directly, but each had a strong gravitational pull on the other. Every once in a while Adam would get too lost in his, walk too fast, and notice once Helga was some distance behind. He’d wait for her with a smile on his face. They crossed the tunnels underneath the highway and made their way towards the beach. ‘We should have taken the bottle’, they both thought, but neither spoke aloud. When they reached the ocean, Helga was the first to find a spot and sit down. He sat next to her, careful to not be too close. They stared out into the distance. Listened to the small waves crash. Felt the breeze. ∗ T he day she arrived to San Francisco marked two years since they started talking about the move. “There are no rules”, he said. “Really, I want nothing from you. I just want you to be happy. I think you’ll be happy here”. It had taken him a long time to get her to even take the idea seriously. She wasn’t the type to uproot her life. The last time she did it, it was for him, and it ended in disaster. His fingers rested on the keyboard. He wanted to say more, but he knew it was better to be patient and wait for her reply. He had to keep things short, uncomplicated. “You always want something. Even if you don’t, I’ll feel like you do.” That was her usual retort. “I mean it. I really don’t want anything. Quite the opposite. I want to have a regular social life - and date. You’ll be free to do the same. To do what you want. You can move out whenever you want. I’ll help you find a place.” Silence. “How do you imagine that working?” came her reply. As it happened, he’d imagined it in quite some detail, for quite some time. “It’s pretty easy to imagine. We’ll just live together - at least for a while, until you get set up. Or for however long it takes. But you know we don’t have the same lifestyle. I need people. You don’t. I’ll go out, leave for my trips and conferences - my life will be the same. You can do whatever you want. The nature around here is amazing. The library has all the books you’ll want, and more.” “What if you want to bring a woman over? I don’t know how I’ll feel about that.” “I won’t. We’ll go to her place.” “What if it gets serious? How are you gonna explain to her that you have another woman living in your house?” “I don’t know. She’ll have to deal with it. People are open minded here.” “What if she wants to meet me? I don’t want to meet anyone like that.” “Then you won’t have to.” “It’s not that simple, Adam. This will complicate your life. And I’ll feel guilty for messing your shit up.” “Can’t you just leave my life to me? I’ve thought this through. I’m not offering charity. This will be good for me too. To have you around.” “That also worries me. I don’t understand what you’ll get out of it. Having me around. I’m not the best company. Are you sure you’re not looking for something to happen again?” “Yes. We both know there’s nothing that can happen. I think we’ve exhausted that possibility. This is something new. It’s an experiment. I agree, it might seem a bit strange. Or scary. But I think it makes a lot of sense.” “I don’t know”, came the reply, as he expected. “Is there anything tying you to Warsaw?” “No.” “Do you like it there? Is there anything you’ll be missing? Are you going to be giving up on any promising career?” “I get your point. Yes, thank you, my life is smoldering pile of dung. I think we’ve established that.” “Then what’s holding you back?” “This just doesn’t make sense to me. You’ve set up a new life there. It sounds like you have it made. Why do you want to mess it up by bringing a ghost from the past? Just find yourself a nice woman. Have some babies together and be happy. Stop inviting trouble.” “I’m not sure why ‘trouble’ keeps dodging my invitations. Ok, why don’t we sit on it for a while. Give it some thought. See how you feel about the idea.” ∗ I t took them little time to get into a routine. On most days, Adam would get back late. On rare occasions he wouldn’t be back for the night. Helga took her time cuddling with Ishy, and reading books. She would read well into the night and wake up whenever her body indicated it was ready to start a new day. She went for long walks and discovered some of the nearby farms. In time, she started talking to the owners, and they would let her come in and observe the animals. ‘These Europeans are strange’, they thought, as they saw her walking between the cattle, and petting the German Shepherd. Every once in a while she’d take a bus to San Francisco and explore the city. A book in hand, she’d find a nice cafe on a quiet street, and bask in the sun with a glass of wine. She’d seep into her own little world, and completely forget about all the things around her for a couple of hours. On one occasion, Adam drove her up to Berkeley and showed her the campus, and his office. Her only remark was that she didn’t like the way people looked at her. Their evenings were colored by Nina Simone, Sophie Tucker, and Ruth Etting. After dinner, they’d usually sit in the comfortable chairs, or sofa, in the living room, each deep into their own book, with a glass of red wine on the side. After a second glass they might let their minds wander, and their lips would part - not yet daring daring to speak what was on the surface of their minds. Instead, they’d talk about the books, what she’d seen that day, or some trip they might take. Months passed in quiet indulgence - books read, records re-listened to, wine bottles recycled, paths trodden, and words unspoken. Helga was Adam’s open secret - he didn’t hide her, but simply respected her wish that she didn’t want to meet anyone. His closest friends were the most curious. They couldn’t believe they were just living as friends. The story didn’t make sense, they were sure there was more to it. He got tired of explaining things and changed the subject. Life carried on. Some evenings he’d put his book down and stare at her. Not with desire (he’d tell himself) but with joy. He was radiating happiness like never before. None of that needed to be said of course. She felt his gaze, would look up to meet it, and then return to her own world. One chilly February night she came to his room at 2 a.m. and crouched by the side of the bed. She stroked his hair and watched as he drifted between different states of consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes and reached out his hand to meet hers. She was having nightmares and asked if she could sleep in his bed. He nodded and she walked to the other side of the bed, got under the cover and sat face-up, hands resting on her belly. Still half-asleep, he rolled around and cuddled her. She didn’t yet move a muscle. His half-conscious mind was filled with her scent and her warmth. Their limbs started moving on their own, curling around each other in that way that familiar bodies know how to do. Some time later her head was resting on his chest, and warm tears rolled off her cheeks and disappeared in his shirt. Her face was calm, her breathing only a bit accelerated. And the tears kept rolling. They were reminiscent of a different life she once had - one that ended only months before, but that now seemed to belong to an entirely different person. In that life, it was her pillow that drained the warm moisture of her face - sometimes calm, sometimes raging. Raging for what? Nothing in particular. Nothing devastating, no singular experience or trauma. Just the grind of daily life - the longing for freedom, the mourning of unmet potential, of other ways her world could have been. The small frictions between the way she was, and what other people wanted of her. The steady stream of unease as she felt she failed expectations. That who she knew herself to be, and what she liked in herself, was incompatible with the world she’d landed in. They all worked in unison to seal a wall around her - a wall she at times felt grateful for. In it, she felt she could be herself, away from thoughts of ‘oughts’ and ‘musts’ and ‘need to’. For a brief period, years ago, Adam managed to break through that wall and join her in her space. She was grateful for his company. She loved him. She loved that he accepted her as she was. At least for a time. But he was human. Which meant that he had needs. And needs meant expectations. Expectations of her - just another bar she’d fail to rise up to. More pressure. It sunk her deeper into her void. Her wall only grew thicker. Adam had awoken fully and was gently stroking her head, saying nothing. His other arm tightened around her back. They stayed like that the whole night, long after her tears ended, and his shirt dried. Fading in and out of sleep and reality. His heartbeats became a slow lone drummer marching across a wide boulevard into an empty expanse in her mind. Her sleeping body twitched, and he tightened his grip on her again. The first light of morning caught them virtually unmoved. Both had their eyes open, staring into nothing in particular. “Why are you doing this”, she asked, as if thinking about it for the first time. “Because I love you”, he answered, without hesitation. She never asked again. ∗ S he learned to trust him - again. He learned to let go of his needs, of what he’d promised himself (and her) that he wouldn’t ask of her. He found other ways to meet them - they weren’t enough. He found he could see that his own needs were small. Feelings of longing, emptiness, unmet desire, unfulfilled potential - they shrank and disappeared when he looked at her, and connected to the warmth of just being around Helga. She made all the thoughts - both the fantasies and the imagined dystopias - just go away. He found himself full of gratitude. And happy. ‘Ask for nothing, offer everything’ - his mind would whisper to him. And he listened to it, as best he could. Years passed. He carried on teaching, having a social life, dating casually, and writing. She carried on reading, walking, and being in nature. They carried on exploring the physical and emotional space around them. One uneventful September morning, she simply announced: “I have to leave”. “Where do you need to go? Need a lift?”, he said, half in denial. “I don’t know where I need to go, but I need to leave.” He’d prepared for this, but he wasn’t ready. She agreed to stay a little while longer. But one morning she simply disappeared. She needed some time by herself. No. She was finally ready to have time by herself. She’d regained the ability to explore on her own, the desire to seek something novel, the joy of looking ahead. Without a destination in mind, she took a backpack with minimal belongings and hopped on a bus heading south. They’d discussed emergency plans, multiple ways of contact - but also that little contact would be needed for a while. Adam carried on. Ishy kept him company and reminded him of the warmth that was still inside him. Years passed before he received a letter from her, inviting him to visit her at Sequoia National Park. She’d found a job there, first as a volunteer and then as a ranger. She was living in a humble cabin and could have him over for tea. She was beaming. She’d let her hair go gray, and her wrinkles were deeper, but she looked more youthful and full of energy than he’d ever seen her. It was her face that first burst into a full smile as she saw him. Adam walked forward and their bodies crashed into one another. He lifted her and put her back down; they both tightened their grip. When they let go and took a step back, she grabbed his face with her hands and kissed his forehead. It was a bright day in early June and they spent it walking her rounds (she was still on duty) and talking. He brought her a signed copy of his first published novel, and she was excited to hear he’d found a partner, and was raising a 2-year old daughter. He asked her where she’d been. Here and there, she said. She kept going south until she reached the southern end of Argentina. She made her way back. She found jobs here and there, but never stayed more than a few weeks in one spot. She’d found all this energy she never knew she had, and she wanted to make the most of it while it lasted. When she got back to California, she wanted to come see him straight away, she said. But it didn’t feel right. She wanted to ground herself first. She started coming to the park on a whim. She’d heard about the sequoias and wanted to see them with her own eyes. She stumbled upon General Sherman, the single largest stem tree in the world, by chance. She said she lost all sense of the world when she saw it. A gargantuan mass of carbon and chlorophyll, seeded before the rise of the Roman Empire, with a height of 83.8 meters and a circumference at the ground of 31.3 meters; she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She knew instantly that that’s where she wanted to spend the rest of her days. “I’m happy here. I have my trees. And I have my books. I’m at peace. I finally found my own place. At my own pace.” He watched her as they walked, and it seemed to him that they were passing through a corridor in her mental space. He felt that he was part of her consciousness. He looked around in wonder. He’d never felt happier.