Chapter 12
Jo and Luke woke up with the weight of separation heavy on their minds. Today was going to be spent clearing out her house, washing clothes, and packing for the flight early the next morning. All tasks they could do without much thought. Lying in bed, neither wanted to get up to meet the day. Jo would alternate snuggling up and laying her head on Luke’s chest and then rolling over away from him into a fetal position like she was mad. Luke hardly noticed as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, his forearm thrown over his head.
He was still looking for meaning and trying to make sense of what had happened, what was happening, and the future ahead. He had asked for someone like Jo to come into his life, and she was more than he could have imagined. And yet now she was leaving. What did that mean? Were they not the couple he’d sensed they were in those times of easy clarity when constructs fell away and understanding was felt, not thought? Would they come back together? Were they supposed to? Or was his purpose to keep looking…to stay open to other love that might be out there…to remain available for someone who may be an even more perfect match…to not commit too much to Jo, yet give enough that the relationship survived? As Luke streamed through the possibilities and constructed future scenarios that would never happen, he missed the nagging sensation that he was trying to control too much. Like in the past when he had lived through his mind, relying on his mental abilities over everything else. And he remembered the problems with that. Now he knew the importance of embracing the unknown. He had experienced life blossoming into greater joy and love and wisdom than anything he could have dreamed of when he was younger. He knew there was no way he could have planned this journey when he’d started it. Too much had to evolve along the way. No. Life didn’t happen through planning. At least not to the degree we often think it does. Life is about responding. Choosing and acting on events as they arise. Staying in the present and living without fear. But Jo had thrown him. She had come into his life so quickly, so naturally, that the feelings had washed through him with such force it was overwhelming. And in those states even the most adept reach out to grasp anything familiar, blinding themselves to the present.
Jo just wanted to snuggle into Luke and forget about everything else. She wanted to lose herself in the space that had become them, forget about packing, and forget about the trip. Mostly, she wanted to forget about the fucking fact she was actually leaving and end this crap of wondering about the future like it was some sort of predestined thing they could figure out or control. All that was important to her were the feelings flowing through her now. The idea of leaving Luke was more than she wanted to face. Rolling onto her back, she pressed the pillow over her head as if she could escape the situation. Everything seemed so different now. Just a week ago felt like a different lifetime. Now there was Luke. Now they were together. And now the whole world was different because of that. How could it not be? Their coming together was so powerful…so almighty and intense that it had to be changing the world. So why did Luke have to question it? Why couldn’t he accept what was and just put the worries and the doubts and the other fucking bullshit away? What the hell was wrong with this life if something as powerful as they had could just be ended without a fight? Everything was telling her this was wrong, so damn wrong. But Luke seemed okay to part without any commitment, to leave them up in the air. All she wanted was for him to just drop his need to be so sure of everything. To just quit thinking about it and tell her he loved her and wanted her in his life forever and ever. The way she felt about him. But she could tell he wasn’t there. His mind was elsewhere, and that made her mad. If I ever needed you, Luke, it’s now, she thought, and you’re not showing up, you bastard.
Fuck it, she thought, rolling over away from him. Fuck him. And then she was back in the swirl of emotions, and all she wanted was Luke. Rolling back over, she snuggled up against him and once more got frustrated at his lack of presence.
***
Luke and Jo walked up the steps of the patio outside La Hacienda, a Mexican restaurant, and took a table looking toward the central park a couple of blocks away. Across the street and to the west, the tall white façade of the San Francisco Convent stood out against the blue sky, the fronds of a small cluster of palm trees swaying in the breeze above and behind it. Twilight was approaching, and people had started migrating toward the central square from their barrios for those activities best engaged in the dark. Some of the younger women were dressed for working the tourists and were often accompanied by an older woman whom Luke imagined was teaching them the ropes and watching their backs. Luke held back judgment—they were poor, and poverty is oppression, and no matter what he or anyone else thought, it was their right to deal with that burden as they felt best. And if that meant selling sex, so be it. Directly across the street and extending down to the corner was a high concrete wall with a wide flight of steps in the center leading up to large double wooden doors that looked like they hadn’t been opened in many years. Occasionally, men pushing rickety garbage carts would stop on the side of the street and walk over to pee by the steps, and more often than Luke cared to notice, one of the walking dead stumbled by, their hand cupped to the front of their face as they inhaled a continuous dose of toxic glue. A young Nicaraguan couple, each holding one of their two toddlers by the hand, was making their way against the flow of people heading into town, their faces expressionless as they looked at Jo and Luke settling in for dinner.
“Can we eat inside?” Luke asked. “I can’t be out here right now.”
“Sure, baby. What’s up?” Jo asked, distracted.
“I just figured out why I’ve been feeling so uneasy when we go out to eat, at least when we sit outside,” Luke said. “We’re just rubbing it in their faces. Their poverty, that is. It’s one thing to sit on the sidewalk and watch people wander by when they can afford to eat what you’re eating, but this is different. Kind of like Aubrey mentioned when I first got here. See that guy over there with his wife and two kids?” Luke pointed to the couple walking away. “He probably won’t ever be able to bring his family up here on the porch for dinner. They know it, and we know it. And yet we sit here racking up a bill that’ll be several days’ wages for most of them, like spectators paying to watch their misery. It’s almost obscene.” Luke got up to go inside.
Jo decided not to say anything as they moved their stuff to a table just inside the restaurant past the iron security gates propped open with spare chairs. And while Luke might have a point, she just didn’t care. She’d been in a funk the whole day and only managed to keep it at bay by packing for the trip. But now that was done, and she was having a hard time not dwelling on her sadness or her confusion about what Luke was thinking about them. As the day had worn on and tomorrow got closer, he’d become more and more distant. He was being polite and helpful and easy to get along with, but it seemed his affection had diminished. No, more like it was being held back. Confined. Like something was stopping him from showing it. But she hadn’t said anything about it and hoped she wouldn’t for the rest of the evening. She didn’t know what was happening, but she sensed it was all playing out as it had to, as scary as that was.
“You need to start writing,” Jo said. She set her wine down and reached for her cigarettes before waving to the waiter to bring her an ashtray. “It’s time for you to get these ideas down on paper, into some kind of coherent form. You’ve talked about this enough. Any more and you’re just wasting time.”
“How do you mean?” Luke asked. “There’s a whole lot to consider. It’s pretty complicated. And it’s a really big step for a lot of people to take. I’m not into being labeled a fool. If anything, I need to give this a lot more thought, not less.”
“No!” Jo said, looking him hard in the eye. “You don’t need to have it all figured out. Remember that, Luke! You’ve got to put that fucking perfectionist part of you aside. You’re always going to have people who think you’re crazy. But if you worry about that, you’ll never get anything done. At least not anything new or visionary.” Jo felt her pulse racing. She took a long drag off of her cigarette to settle down. Exhaling, she stubbed it out in the ashtray half–smoked before looking back at Luke. “Your job is to get this idea out there. To let people know they’ve been misled—that we don’t have to live like this. To help them understand they’ve got the power to change their world. That we, humanity, have the right to say how life happens on this planet. That’s your job, Luke!” Jo knew her voice had risen a notch and didn’t care. “It’s time for you to take the baton from the others that came before and run with it! You have a purpose on this planet, and right now that’s putting these ideas down on paper. But in a way so the people read it. No more academic stuff. You need to write a novel. Popular fiction. Do you understand me, Luke?” she asked, not worried about how intense she had become, but rather thinking he’d better get used to it.
“But there’s still too much to figure out,” Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck. Fiction? he thought. Where the fuck did that come from? “And it can’t be fiction. I have to cite what I say and make sure I can back up everything I bring forth with research. That’s how it’s done, Jo. I mean, hell, my professors will be reading this and critiquing it and—”
“No, Luke! They will not!” Jo said, not caring that she’d interrupted him or that her voice had risen even more. “Your professors don’t give a fuck about your writing. They’re too busy doing their own shit to worry about some new guy publishing his first book. And hell, you’ve graduated. They’re not your professors anymore, Luke; they’re your peers. And they’ll wait until they hear from others whether they should read your stuff.”
“But hell, Jo, I didn’t put the time in to get my PhD to write novels—”
“You think you’re pretty hot with your shiny new PhD, but it doesn’t mean shit to anyone else,” Jo said. She didn’t want to hurt him, but somehow she had to break through that thick skull of his. “You wanted to be a bridge, Luke, so remember who in the hell you’re writing for––the people out there who have a little bit of knowledge and who care about what’s happening in this world. And those people would rather read a good story than some dry manifesto or whatever the fuck you want to call it about human sovereignty. I mean, like who in the fuck would even know what that means?” Jo looked at Luke. He had slouched down in his chair and was staring at his hands resting on the table, a sad look on his face. I need to lighten up a little, she thought, bringing her tone back to normal. “And somehow, Luke, you slide these ideas of yours into the story in a way that doesn’t overwhelm them. You give them the hope and the inspiration and the vision they need to help, and the words they need to spread the message, however they choose to do so. You can do this, Luke.” She reached over and laid her hand on top of his, willing him to hold her eye. “And a few of them will get it. They’ll see what you’re talking about, and then the movement begins. That’s how this whole thing picks up a life of its own, if it’s going to.”
“You seem so mad at me right now,” Luke said. The idea to write fiction had confused him for a moment, but he could see Jo’s point. Her attitude, though, was unexpected, and her tone and words had stung. He felt tired and no longer excited about his ideas. “What’s up, baby? What did I do?”
“I don’t know,” Jo said. She shook her head. “I’m anxious I guess. But that’s my shit. Right now we’re talking about you. Something has to come out of these last ten days, Luke. A week ago this whole thing was just a bunch of random ideas,” she said, seeing Luke getting ready to contradict her. “Well, okay, to me they were random ideas. I know you’ve been working on them for a while. But in the beginning, even you said they weren’t making much sense. Remember that? But now you have something you can work with. A start. And I can help you if we decide to come together again,” she said, hating she was qualifying the possibility.
“I think I get what you’re saying,” Luke said. “I don’t know. I always planned to write at this point, but it’s always seemed so far away. At least until five minutes ago. And you’re right; this isn’t about me. I can’t have it all figured out before I start. It has to evolve, and it has to include a lot more people than me. People a lot smarter than I am.” And I’ve got to accept that they’ll change my ideas, he thought, and before long, it might not look like what I’ve envisioned. “I probably wouldn’t have realized this without you, Jo. I don’t know, baby. I wish I knew what to do,” he said, hoping she didn’t realize that he had shifted to thinking about them instead of his book.
But Jo knew Luke’s mind was now on them. How couldn’t it be, as close as they’d become? And she got scared, again. He’s thinking too much, and that’s not good, she thought, at least not if he screws things up as badly as I do.
“What do you do, Luke?” Jo asked. “What you do is sit down and start writing, and you keep at it until you get it. Let the words flow. Get them on paper. Let them take form. Adjust as you go. Like anything else you’ve done, you just have to start. And then, once you do, everything changes. It’s a different phase. You’ll pick up momentum, and that’s easier to maintain than it is to build, so just fucking do it and quit talking about it.” Easy, Jo, she thought, you’re getting intense again. “You’re not expected to know all the answers, Luke, just don’t quit. At least then I’ll know the last ten days haven’t been a complete waste.”
“Waste?” Luke asked, knowing full well what she was referring to but hoping to put that conversation aside. “Like you said, it’s been really good talking this stuff out. I don’t think it’s been a waste at all. And I hear you. Now it’s time to sit down and write. Fiction.”
“What are we going to do about this, Luke?” Jo asked. “I mean, about us?” She was tired of skirting the issue.
“I don’t know,” Luke said, shaking his head and looking away. He had been trying not to think about that very question, and yet it was looming larger with every second closer to Jo leaving. She was touching him in ways no one ever had, and he liked being with her––liked being seen with her. She, they, radiated, and it seemed everyone around them was affected by it. Together they brought forth an energy unlike anything he’d felt before. And she wanted him—he could tell that. Why couldn’t he just accept all of this and go with it? So what if she was the first woman he met on this trip? Sometimes life rolls that way. But he was still struggling with how it would all work out. So many unknowns. What if he does put his heart out there, and then she moves on like she had done with all the other men in her life? I can’t handle that pain again, he thought.
“I know,” Jo said, watching the people outside on the porch and wondering how she had gotten herself in this spot. “We just go our own way and see what happens. Luke, is that what you really want?”
“I just don’t want to fuck up, Jo,” he said. “Not again, not at this stage in my life. I don’t know. I feel so confused. And I thought we agreed about this, since you have to leave. What else can we do? And while you’re gone, I’m supposed to stay open to whatever comes along…” Luke’s voice trailed off. No matter how many times he’d rehearsed this in his mind, it still felt like he was trying to convince himself more than her. “I’m frustrated, Jo. It feels like I’m being put on the spot. I’m trying to figure this out as best I can.”
“Maybe that’s the difference between us,” Jo said, becoming resigned. “I don’t see anything to figure out.” Maybe it’s best to just accept this for what it was, she thought. Whatever the fuck that was. “It seems pretty simple to me. But you’re right; I am putting you on the spot. We’ve had fun, and it’s been great, and I just need to be happy with that.” But as she sat there, she knew she wasn’t. All she wanted to do was tell Luke she loved him, to just let it gush out for the whole world to know. And she had planned to do just that tonight. But not now.
***
They made their way back to Jo’s house in silence. The path had become second nature to them, and they glided through the throngs of people and cars as if everyone else was moving in slow motion. Holding hands, they both sensed something much greater than themselves was happening, but they lacked the words to express it. As if there were words that could. Walking down Calle Libertad, Jo remembered their first night together. How they had stopped and kissed in the middle of the sidewalk, not caring about the people around them. She had never done that before. Anywhere. And how they had stayed in bed the first two days, neglecting everything else in their lives. He had changed her and brought back an excitement, a hope, she thought was never going to return, even if he had become distant these last two days.
Luke knew something was amiss, but he couldn’t pin it down. The tugs of stress that had been arising the last several days whenever he thought about Jo were now a constant backdrop. His mind had taken over, worrying about all the things that could happen, all the things that could go wrong. As the fear residing there tightened its grasp, it built a prison around his soul that exempted everything else and brought forth the false illusion of control. As he allowed his mind to replay their history in an endless loop, he failed to recognize he was out of the flow. And love has little chance to thrive in life’s eddies.
End Chapter 12.
Bob
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