Find Me At the Gates
Part Three: Back in the USA
05 March 2012 Monday
I woke up with vague feeling of "where am I." A wall clock said eight o'clock. My watch said 21:30, still on Indian time. It was obviously morning, because of the new day sun shining through lacy white curtains. I could see the tops of the maple trees; it was the hundreds of birds singing that awakened me. I took a shower, letting the water pound my back for a long time.
Sure was nice of my brother and Alison to let me stay. The strangeness melted away and I felt comfortable, at home in familiar surroundings. After my shower I put on a bathrobe and slippers from my hosts' closet. The house was a Spanish split-level with Mediterranean furniture. The hall carpet was a wine red color to match most of the furnishings and dark wood walls. My brother, Ray, looked up from the den to the top of the stairs and called out, "Good morning." Alison, my sister-in-law, was working in the kitchen. Ray was reading the paper at the breakfast table, which was splashed with light from large patio windows.
"Good morning," he said, folding his paper, as I took a seat. "Allison's putting on some breakfast. Tell us about your trip. You were a little out of it last night."
Alison came in, setting hot pancakes, oatmeal, a carton of milk, butter, and sugar on the table, then sitting down next to Ray. "Your letter about your father was so touching," she said, searching my face with her dark eyes. "Your photos were great. We both cried."
"Going back there made me realized how open minded he was to let me take his ashes to India, especially considering how the rest of the family felt about my involvement with the World Krishnas," I said.
"Yeah, but we were right about the group," Ray said.
"It was so different for my father," Alison said.
"Now Alison, your father died so unexpectedly." Ray looked up at his wife for a moment. "Our dad's case was different because he knew he was going to die."
We passed the bowls of food around until we all had filled our plates.
We ate heartily in silence for a few minutes, then turning to me Ray asked, "Are you glad to be home from India?"
I wanted to say more about my trip and my writing, but I could sense that Ray wanted to talk about business. He invited me to come back because he thought I'd be perfect for some work he had.
"Yeah, I'm glad to be back. What's happening at I.C. Inc.?"
"Well, now that you're here, I can't wait to get you started," Ray said. He had bought the business when our father died and turned it from a chemical manufacturing into a chemical clean-up company. They did everything from asbestos removal to oil spills and wetland restoration, but the new project was more ambitious. It involved research to address the climate crisis. I.C. Inc. was on hold for a year waiting to see if the necessary grants would materialize. When they did, my brother contacted me to come home and help manage the project.
"You two talk business," Alison said. "I have to get to work too. Make yourself at home, Ann. Ray has somebody to help with your condo." She took a few dishes to the kitchen, then disappeared into her studio.
"Have you been inside my place?" I asked. "What's the prognosis?"
"Just the usual wear and tear. Anyway, it's Monday. I'll take you over there on my way to work. My guy is already scheduled to meet you there this afternoon."
The waves were breaking just yards away, casting a salty smell into the ocean breeze. I put the key in the gate, letting myself into the condominium complex. Located in Venice, on Ocean Front Walk, my condo was right on the beach, with a great view of the water. It was very much like the view from my hotel in India. The building was modern and spacious, built in the 1950s by a respected architect. The windows were especially beautiful, the way they brought the beauty of the ocean inside, into the structure of the building. It was love at first sight when I bought it as a rental long ago. I had always dreamed of living there; now my dream was about to come true.
I turned the key and stepped inside. One word came to mind: cats. Opening all the windows and doors helped air it out. Unfortunately, I would have to re-carpet. Digging through my purse, I found some incense left over from India and lit it. Ray had already asked his contractor friend to bring a painter and carpet guy along. I had a few hours to kill, so I walked out on the beach. The waves broke with primordial force, just like in India. My fears that I would forget about god vanished. Everything felt perfect, as though meant to be. It seemed like the world was all complete harmony and peace, even if just for that day.
After a long walk, I still had almost an hour before the contractor was due. I used my brother's extra cell phone to call the utility companies, arranging to have the power, phones, and gas put in my name, then walked around each room trying to decide what kind of carpet I wanted and where to put my furniture. The contractor arrived and spent an hour inspecting and writing an estimate for the many small repairs the place needed. His bid seemed okay, so I gave him a set of keys. His painter arrived and we looked at paint chips, choosing an off-white for the walls and beige for the trim. Then the carpet man showed up and we looked at carpet samples and talked for about an hour. He also sold me on some curtains, which made the whole thing a bit more expensive, but why not? Thanks to the contractor, I got about five days' worth of work done in one day. The place looked bad, but there were no structural problems, and according to the contractor, the electrical and plumbing were fine. That was a relief. My furniture would look great. My antique stereo and TV cabinet could go here, my candy striped French chair there; my big comfortable couch would be perfect in front of the fireplace.
That night I told Ray and Alison my place would be ready in about a week. Alison invited me to stay, but I needed to pick up my dog in San Francisco and spend a few days with our family up there.
