Going Deeper

Going Deeper

Waves crashed into the beach one by one.  Mac stayed there, sitting on the sand, watching soulfully as this happened.  A cool confidence kept his gaze steady as they came in like so much unwanted news.  Thoughts lingered poignantly and he truly felt like the soul he was imagining himself to be.  His face looked pale and his countenance stern as the grey mist tickled his skin.  He had been there for a half hour now.

Before any of this deep thought came into place he was employed by a marketing firm in which he was known as one of the best.  At staff meetings he always impressed his team with his talent and freshness.  He wore a smile on a cute, handsome face.  People anywhere could see and realize his simple but breathtaking charm.

He had fallen in love with a woman three years younger than him.  Her name was Betty and she was skinny and beautiful.  She only let in certain people and was harsh towards other people.  One who heard her say the best defense is a good offense might know exactly what she meant.  Mac did as well.

She was like a portal to a younger age and he could see the beauty in her face.  Her soul was resigned to him as he later realized.  Their chances of meeting were one in millions.  Her body was like this alm to him.  When she took off her shirt and shorts he could see just how she was perfect for him.

They met at a bar.  Mac was sober and listened to his mates however boring they were.  By ten o-clock he wanted to leave.  He shook his keys before his friends, with the music blaring, saying that he was leaving sometime soon, that it was time to go.

Just then he saw a beautiful woman at the bar and of course it was Betty.  She was sipping on a long island iced tea, scouting the area with her eyes.

Not paying much notice Mac stood up to walk away from his friends, bumping into Betty.  Half of her Long Island ice spilled.  She looked up at him as if to say fuck you then saw his face. He smiled lightly, offering to buy her another drink.

“I’m really sorry,” he said.  “Let me buy you another one.”

She said, “Oh, no problem,” looking at him as he moved to the bar.

He paid for the refill and brought the glass to her.  “Here you go.  I’m really sorry.”

“No problem.  That’s nice of you.  Most guys wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Buy me another drink.”

“Well.  Most people should.”

“Aw.  Ain’t you a sweetie.”

“You’re really pretty,” he said, startled that he said the words.

“Aw.  Thank you.”

“Say, you don’t want to give me your number, do you?”

“For a guy like you, sure.”

Mac pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and wrote her number down on a business card.  She told him the number and she said, “It’s Betty, with a heart instead of e.”

Mac drew the heart between B and Etty.  “Great.  I’ll probably call you next week.”

“I’d love to hear from you.”

“I promise,” he said, smiling at her.

He drove two of his inebriated friends back to their homes and then drove home with Betty on his mind.  “God,” he thought, “this is going to be great.”

A week passed and work was the same.  The idea of calling Betty on Friday was a constantly pleasant reminder.  Although he knew what he would say he sometimes imagined saying something else, loving every word she said.  He pictured her name on his business card, that heart between fulfilling her name.

When he did call her he was a nervous wreck.  His palms were sweaty and he felt nauseous.

“Hello?”

“Mac, is this you?”

“It’s me, yeah.  I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“All good things.  Listen, why don’t I take you out for dinner?”

“Oh, Mac.  I’d love to.”

“I’ll pick you up at six?”

“Deal.”

So they exchanged information and Mac drove there in his Honda by six.  She lived in an apartment building in a wealthy area.  When she came walking down the steps he could see her as if she were wearing a wedding gown.  She looked glorious.

He wore a smile on his small face that almost looked too cute.  He got out to open the door for her and she scrambled inside.

“Hey, nice car.  Is this a Honda?”

“Yup.  One of the sports models.  It gets me around.”

“Geeze, air conditioning and everything.”

“Yup, the works.”

“Don’t you think it’s funny we went from the bar to this?”

“Yeah.  Maybe it’s destiny.”

“Or fate.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Fate is sadder, like doom.  Destiny is better, like romance.”

“Ah. That’s a neat way of putting things.  Yeah, the air conditioning in this car is a Godsend.  I thank my lucky stars everyday,” Mac said.

They drove to the restaurant with playful chatter.  A valet took Mac’s keys and they went in the fancy Greek restaurant, both of them looking tip top.

Over wine Mac explained his job at the marketing company.

Betty was surprised, “As if they pay you for something as facile as that.”

“My life is a breeze.”

Betty spoke of her job as a photographer for elementary school students.  She said it was enough money for her to get by.  Emotionally though she wanted something more fulfilling, like visual art or psychology.  In her life there was much craving and wanting.  She read lots about Buddhism and seeing the clearest truth, the clearest way.

“Why does Buddhism make you want to go somewhere so distant?”

“It’s about the soul and seeing the true reality.  Go beyond, you know?”

“Still I think you’re asking too much of yourself if you plan to become a monk.”

She laughed, “I don’t want to be a monk.  I just want to be pure, you know?” She said, showing him a more complicated side of her face.

“These Tibetans wake up everyday at dawn and pray to their deities.  They go through agonizing pain to perfect themselves.  Why not just take a shower, or go to the spa?”

“It’s not that simple.  You’ve got to believe it.”

“Well.  Believe this, if you go to heaven, and you will go to heaven, you’re going to miss your living life just as much as you miss your spiritual life up there.  It’s ridiculous.”

“What makes you think heaven is perfect?”

“Said so, in the Bible.”

“Well, maybe that’s a lost chance at life.  Perfecting yourself now and then perfecting yourself later, up there.”

“You can’t be perfect.”

“Yes you can.”

“Oh, that’s a wart on your nose.  You’re not perfect.”

“Spirituality goes much deeper than outward beauty.”

“I was just kidding.  You really are beautiful.  Perfect enough, I think.”

“You’re turning me on.”

Mac looked at her there trying to hold a peaceful face.  “You’re actually turning me on, too.”

“What say we skip this place and move back to my apartment.  I’ve eaten my fill.”

They rushed out and waited for the valet.  Inside the car they kissed ravenously and Mac stepped on it back to her apartment.  He said to her, “I’m glad you feel this way, too.  I am so horny.”

Mac parked the car and they ran up to her bedroom which was dimmed by the red curtains, making the room pink.  They kissed and undressed each other, then made love.

Afterwards, with them both in a sweat, she said, “That was perfect.  If you can keep doing that I’ll be monkish enough.”

“You’re my favorite monkey,” he said.

He turned around and lay on his back, his two hands carrying the back of his neck.  “Don’t you think sex is like being born again?”

“No.  It feels like release of a thousand wicked emotions.”

“Really?  Like angst?  You let go of angst?”

“Angst, depression, envy, hatred.  All of these things.”

“You know what, I don’t feel any angst at all.  Nor do I feel, depression, envy, or hatred.  You’ve cured me.”

Then suddenly, Betty said, “Stick with me, Mac.  Please don’t ever let me go.”  She made a pouty, complicated face.

“I’ll never leave you, Betty.  You’re too important to me.”

“I’m so tired of being lonely.  I want you as a friend.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“I promise.  Just stay in my field of being, my now and before and forever after.  I can’t bear being alone anymore.”

Mac looked at her and kissed her lips.  “I’ll stay with you as long as nature allows.  If I’m dead, dammit, I’ll think of you when I’m up there.”

“That’s all you need to say,” she said, and turned to her side, trying to fall asleep.  “You can be my BFWB.”

“And I’ll be your BFWB, possibly BFWBF.”

“Best friends with benefits forever?”

“Yes.  Oh, God yes,” he said and kissed her on the cheek.

He woke up early that morning and withdrew his pen from his shirt pocket, writing a thank you note to Betty.  “Thank you for the wonderful evening, B (heart) etty.  I’ll keep you in my thoughts.  Mac.”

Back at home he called his friend Josh and asked him to play some squash at the gym.  They played a fierce game and Mac won two out of three.  With Betty in his thoughts he began to think and care about everything he did, as if anything or anyone might be danger or foreign to her.

He called her that night and during the whole phone conversation he smiled, loving her every word.  “Do you want to get together again?  We’ll go to the park on Sunday.”

“Sure.  Should I wear my bathing suit?”

“No, we’ll just go for a walk.”

“Ok, sounds good.”

Mac watched the tv that night as he usually did and could feel as if someone else was watching the show, colours swirling inside his mind.

Before he went to sleep he realized he had to organize his thoughts.  He committed himself to seeing the long term relationship and accepting that this was probably love.  And if it was probably love he was probably quivering with joy inside.  He tested his emotions and a profuse, happy giddiness took over him.  His legs felt tingly and numb.

“So this is what love feels like,” he thought.  He let his thoughts swim around and imagined pictures of Betty in her happy, humble way.  He wondered just how deep this love may go.  The tension on his backside was the only thing keeping him from the full force of love.  He was skeptical, sarcastic, and mostly scared of the full reality of things that if he just opened up his eyes to see he might be too scared to accept anyway.  This kind of holding on was the necessary pessimism.  He did not know why he felt this way, holding on to something at a million miles an hour, but he could not let go of this yet.

But he slept well and Betty was there in sound, caption between caption he had to guess at what she was saying.  She didn’t know how unclear she sounded.  He dreaded asking her to quiet down.  Her joy and giddiness was becoming a nuisance but he lay there, imagining the smile on his face.

He woke up with gratitude.  His dream was going too fast and his thoughts became too secretive.  It was like he was withholding a nasty truth he hadn’t the courage to speak of.  He tried to purge himself with orange juice but found that it didn’t work.  He made himself cereal with milk and tried to wake up.

The coffee woke him up and within a half hour he was feeling fine.  He called Betty and she said she was ready.  Anxiety took over and he stared at the keys on the coffee table.  He could hear the grating sound of them jingling, meaning so much, going from door to door and leading nowhere.

But by about eleven o-clock he was in his car and picked up Betty by about eleven-thirty.  She was smiling and giddy as well.  All he could show her was his patented smiling face that he knew she would love.

At the park they walked on the wooden boardwalk and onto the pier where the big ships were.  She was always attentive and bubbly, obviously happy with him and his presence.  He felt composed and really couldn’t think of anything that could be bothering him.  But the stress reminded on his backside and he started to realize it would always be there.

On the pier they held hands and looked into the ocean with the sun facing in.  The water glowed marvellously and it seemed to welcome the soul to swim its legions.

“How does that look to you,” he asked her.

“It looks like a million things, both simple and complex.”

“I think so too.  I think it’s beautiful.”

She smiled at him and faced him about a foot away, “I’m starting to like you a lot, Mr. Mac.”

He smiled fiendishly and said, “I like you too, Ms. Betty.”

They kissed and Mac tried to focus on the warmth of that moment and draw it in like warm water.  It truly felt beautiful.

Now they walked a little slower and found many things to talk about.  The boardwalk carried on for another mile and after a while they turned around and got back in Mac’s car.  His smile had more effect on her than anything else.  But he kept the smile mostly out of kindness.  She understood him well enough but maybe he was too much for her.  If he showed her another side of him would she panic?  Would this still be ok?

He did know but he couldn’t find the will to blame her for anything.  She was perfect, even if she could only see a small percentage of him.  He tried to think of a way to pacify himself to her and the idea of perfection came up, both simple and complex.

They got back in his Honda and he asked her what she’d like to do.  She deliberated for a while and finally said she’d like to go to the art museum.  He smiled, “That sounds perfect.  I’d love to.”

The art museum wasn’t far from the beach and Mac found a place to park.  With trepidation he said, “Let’s go inside.”  He smiled at her to ease the tension.  He could tell she was feeling anxious.

Inside the museum was cool and smelled like cold stone.  They walked from room to room admiring paintings.  He held her hand and listened for anything she might say.  “What do you think of this one,” he asked.

“This one is remarkable.  I like how the painter uses red to illustrate the emotion of the piece.  It’s really quite poignant.”

They went from the first floor to the second floor and the third and left feeling dignified and new.  At the door before the stairs he looked at her as if she was a painting and admired her beauty.  “I like how your face smiles, perhaps God painted you a bit too happy.”

She laughed shyly, “Aw.  You think I’m a painting don’t you?”

Mac laughed and smiled.  “You’re one of the prettiest paintings I’ve ever seen.”

Mac drove her home and then drove himself home.  He got back and tossed the keys on the coffee table, reassuring himself that was a nice day.  He made himself a sandwich with Genoa salami and a Kaiser bun with tomatoes and lettuce and mustard.

He tried to realize that everything was going along as it always did and there was no need for surprise.  Systematically he organized his thoughts and finally rested on his relationship with Betty.  Was something in the relationship going to jar his routine?  How deep did she want to go, or how far?

He tried to set up boundaries for himself but realized that she would tear them down.  Anything new or unwanted she would take and destroy.  It was like smiling all the time and feeling nothing.  He felt trapped.

Calling her up on the phone he tried to determine his bearings and what might go from here to somewhere he didn’t want to be.  Finally, she surprised him by saying, “You know, Mac, I really think I love you.”

He smiled his usual smile and felt the pain.  It was harder now than ever to smile.  All the feelings and thoughts dissipated into one simple wrote facial expression that seemed to be held up by simply wanting to do well.

“I’ve got to work the rest of the week, so, I’ll call you on Friday and we’ll do something, alright?”

“Ok.  I’ll miss you.”

“I know.  I’ll miss you too.  Be well, sweetheart.”

He hung up the phone feeling very gray and sad.  It seemed it was coming down to his nerves.  Only his nerves loved her.

His mind seemed to be swimming in viscous water, each stroke of his arms a painful one.  Was he doing this correctly?  Was this love?  What was going to come of this?

With great ennui he flopped on the bed and listened to his thoughts come to a boil.  He smiled just to stay sane.

He loved her, he respected her, he knew her, but something was happening that was beyond his ability to control.

At work he was pale and his smile didn’t come.  People saw him and asked him what was the matter and he told them it was simply family trouble, that someone was sick and he was deeply worried about it.  Friends consoled him with a candle in cupcake, wishing him a happy unbirthday.  He smiled thinly as they sang a little song.

When he got home he could hear the keys scratch the glass surface of the coffee table.  He almost winced and broke into tears at the sound, then thought of conjuring up a smile.  He couldn’t.  This relationship between him and Betty was driving him insane.

It was Monday night at six o-clock and Mac called her up.  He was going to break up with her.  “Listen, Betty, I’m sorry but I’ve got to bring this to an end.”

“What do you mean, Mac?  We were having so much fun.”

“It’s just, it’s my work.  I need to focus on my work.  This relationship is drowning me.”

She started to choke and cry, “Why, Mac?  We were doing great.”

“It’s just, it’s me.  I’ve got psychological issues.”

“You’re fine.  You’re perfect.”

“I can’t do this with you, ok?  I’m sorry.”

“Fuck.  Fuck you, you bastard.  You don’t deserve me.”

“I know.  I don’t.  I’m sorry.  Please, just live life well.”

“I hate you.  Fuck.  I hate you.”

“I know.  I’m sorry,” Mac said, letting a tear drop.  “I wish you well.  Bye.  Bye now.”

He hung up the phone and stood up and took a deep breath.  His work was more important than this.  He needed to focus on his work.  His face seemed to gum up and he cried.  “This is my fault.  This really is, this time, my fault.  Dammit.  We could have been so good together.  But I need to focus on work.  This is an immature time in my life, and I’ll find someone else to love and live with.  That’s it.”

Then he felt his face start to tone itself, and he smiled as if he was emptying a load of water onto some land formation.  I’ll get over this and so will she.  Then he almost fell, holding himself against the wall, sulking, his face sobbing, “Dammit.  Dammit.  I loved her, and now it’s over.  I bid you adieux.”

He scampered down the stairs and got into his car, driving to the ocean and sitting down to watch the waves roll by, simple and complex, until he could get his mind straightened out. There was a slow drizzle on his skin and he kept his face up while the waves came in, one after another, falling on the beach.  “I’ll miss you, B, heart, etty.  I will miss you.”