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CHAPTER – 4: Opening Vaults
I knocked on the door interconnecting our rooms.
“It’s not locked, come on in,” I heard her call out.
When I walked in, she was putting her uniform in the closet. Finished with that, she turned and picked up the clothes on her bed to place them in the drawers. She glanced at me and faltered; almost dropping the bundle she had in her arms. She put them back on the bed, and took a few steps closer to give me a critical look, making me queasy.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
She ignored my question, and instead asked, “Are you using drugs?” with a serious tone.
Huh! Drugs? Where the hell did that come from?
“Drugs?” I was confused, and that was saying little.
Her eyes were critically examining me, but especially my eyes.
“You... You are looking good. Compared to a while ago, you’re looking better than good. I just thought you had taken something,” she responded in an apologetic manner.
I didn’t have a response to that. I didn’t think I was looking as good as she made me out to be.
“You mean I don’t look like death warmed over?” I tried to joke. “A shower can do wonders.”
“Yeah... something like that,” she said with soft laugh. “Are you sure it was just a shower? You have to tell me your trick, whatever it is. I could certainly use it.”
“You don’t need any tricks. You’re looking great,” I replied.
She was looking great, dressed in tight jeans and a form-hugging sweater that accentuated her shapely body. She had her long blonde hair loose on her shoulders, making her look younger than her years—I estimated her to be around early 30s, but she didn’t look a day over 25.
“A woman can always use help when it comes to looks, and I’m dying to know how you managed what you did.”
I didn’t do anything... I just broke down and cried like a baby!
The thought made me cringe and I searched for a probable explanation. However, before I could give her a reply, she moved in closer and looked up in my eyes. Caressing my cheek, she said, “It’s all right, Mitch.”
Does she know—
Of course, you fool! Women always know things like that.
With that thought, I tensed up.
“Don’t be embarrassed. You needed to get it out of your system. It’s as good as any other way... and sometimes, much better. From the looks of it, it did a world of good,” she said, trying to put me at ease and succeeding. She was a remarkable person. Especially, how she managed to appease my unease with her sweet talk and soothing manners.
“Shall we order?” she asked, changing the subject.
After we made our choices, I placed the order with room service. I prepared a gin and tonic for her, while taking a beer for myself. We talked about neutral subjects, trying to get to know each other, until the dinner arrived.
During dinner, we continued our talk, and I learned that she had been a flight attendant for 12 years. She had a brief, 2–year marriage—no kids—ending in an amicable divorce. Now, she was seeing a colleague in the office at the airport back in her hometown. She moved the subject to me; what I did for work, and other general things. I glossed over most of the details—they were pretty boring—and gave her a general outline. However, she was well aware of the problems in that region, and she had a fairly good idea of the dangers involved. That was to be expected. Hardly a day passed without an incident being reported in the papers or on the TV. Although she probed, she was very careful, understanding my reluctance to talk about it except in general terms, but I had a growing suspicion that she had learned more than I gave her credit for.
After dinner, she kicked off her shoes, and putting up the pillows, she got comfortable on her bed. I pulled a comfortable looking armchair next to the bed, and settled in. We were both feeling mellow with the food, and we continued with a nice red wine, enjoying the moment. At first, I was reluctant to drink more alcohol. But the wine was good, and I wasn’t feeling sleepy or tired, strange as that might be.
She was really good company, and I couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t have a man in her life—yes, she was dating somebody, but she gave me the impression that it wasn’t yet in a serious stage. I was also curious why she had this interest in me. I wasn’t satisfied with her ‘soft spot for lovers’ explanation. She was not only beautiful but a very kind and generous person, and very interesting.
“What’s on your mind?” she broke through my wandering mind.
“You said that you have a soft spot for lovers, but the more I get to know you, the more I’m...”
“Confused? Curious?”
I nodded.
“That’s really a question for another time, and is related to her. We can visit that later. However, I need to know something. How well do you know her, or do you think you know her?” she asked.
What’s she getting at?
I pondered that question, going over several possibilities. After a while, I sensed what she was getting at... the men in her life.
“I figure she has... perhaps, a reputation?” I replied, choosing my words carefully.
She gave me a long look, trying to get a measure of me, and to make sure we were working from the same page. Satisfied with what she had seen, she asked, “That... doesn’t bother you?”
Does it? Did it?
I don’t think so... No, I’m not jealous of her other men. If we were committed to each other, it would have been different.
I’m bothered by her frequently indiscriminate and casual attitude towards her relations. I’m more concerned for her well being and about her general unhappiness.
“It does, but not in the sense you think. I’m not jealous of her men. I’m more concerned about her unhappiness.”
“And you still love her?”
“I do,” I replied. Thinking over about my feelings, I clarified my response. “Umm... I know, I still carry something inside me... for her... but, I’ve changed... and she’s changed, too... I think...”
She nodded, and took a few minutes trying to digest what I said, and make some sense of it. I could see she had come up with a question, but was hesitant to ask, and I wondered what she had stumbled on.
“It’s OK! Ask away. If I can’t answer or don’t want to answer, we’ll skip it,” I said to put her at ease.
“Mitchell, this is a very personal question,” she said. “And if you can answer, then you have to be truthful... and that might be very difficult.” The warning in her tone was unmistakable.
I think I know what’s coming... Did we ever...
“I think I have a fairly good idea. You’re wondering if my feelings are a result of...” I paused trying to find the right expression, and finished with, “an unconsummated relationship?”
She gave a tight smile and nodded.
“No, that’s not it. We di—” I caught myself, rephrasing what I was going to say. “We’d been intimate... a few times.”
She didn’t respond, instead she waited patiently, letting me decide if I wanted to continue and elaborate.
God, this is embarrassing. This is private stuff. I don’t talk about it. Especially when it’s related to her.
I started hesitantly, clearly ill at ease to talk about such a personal thing.
“We enjoyed it. She... she was happy. It’s difficult to explain these things... I’ve been with a few girls before her... casual stuff. I know I’m not very experienced, not something special in bed. But, I think what we experienced was... more than sex. Don’t ask me how I know. She was more experienced than me... it was unmistakable. I came to learn that she enjoyed sex—nothing wrong with that. I’m not scared of a woman who knows how to take her pleasure—I’m not talking about orgasms... women can fake that and fool a man easily. I am not going to claim I can’t be fooled... what I’m talking about is the afterwards... what I had seen... what I felt... what we felt... and it wasn’t just after-sex glow or something. She was another person... It was as if there was only the two of us... no barriers... and for a day or two she would be much more... loving... closer, caring, happy, content...” I said, searching for the right words, and having difficulty expressing myself.
I took a deep breath, trying to clear the images that were trickling into my mind. “Am I making any sense?” I asked.
“I know this has been difficult for you, but I appreciate your candor. Not every man is willing to admit... Well... you know what I mean,” she replied gently.
Giving an apologetic smile, she continued, “This is not really pertinent, but I’m curious... Do you have casual sex?”
“I’m not sure I understand the question... I’ve already said I had.”
“Let me rephrase that. Do you just go to bed with a complete stranger, or do you first get to know them... at least to a certain degree... where you have some kind of connection?”
That question surprised me, and I thought about my answer.
“Mitchell...”
“Mmmm?”
“Mitchell, you don’t have to answer that question. You already have.”
“Huh?”
Seeing me completely lost, she gave me a sympathetic smile, and tried to explain. “From what you had already told me, and your reaction to my question, I know that you’re not really casual about sex. You pick your partner and establish a connection. If there’s no connection of some sort, you don’t sleep with them. Isn’t that right?”
“I-I... I guess... unless I’m intoxicated at the time.”
She nodded her understanding, then followed up with another question. “And your partner’s pleasure comes first?”
I nodded.
“If nobody has told you before, I’ll tell you now. You have the right attitude... the attitude that women look for in men—and find infrequently. You care about your partner, even if you’re not in love with the person. You try to make it nice for your partner. Now, if that person is somebody you are in love with... well, I don’t have to state the obvious...”
“Thank you... but...”
“Mitch, don’t try to sell yourself short. You may be young, and lacking some experience, but you care about your partners. As long as you make sure they’re happy, you don’t have anything to worry about. Experience comes with time, and opportunity. You may not have had too many opportunities, but you’re way ahead of other players. Trust me. I was married and I’ve known some men.” She gave me a look that said she would not accept any objections on her verdict, and I tried to accept it as humbly as possible.
“So, we know something... You really loved her, and still do. Now, I can answer your question... I know her. I’m sorry if I misled you when I said I don’t know her very well. But in a way, that’s true. I didn’t say I don’t know her at all. We aren’t close or intimate friends, but we’ve been together on many flights, and it’s a small world among the flight crews. So, I got to know her quite a bit. You are unlike any of her... friends,” she said.
“You don’t have to be diplomatic on my account. I saw it before.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile, and continued. “She is pretty lively, which is normal. Especially on long hauls with overnight stays or longer. The crews get to enjoy the places and they like to party. That’s what draws the young girls to the profession. Seeing different, exotic places, and meeting people, perhaps a potential husband or something. Once they get in, they realize it’s also hard work, and some quit. Some stick around enjoying the work and the opportunities. She enjoys the work, but enjoys the partying as well. Nothing excessive, otherwise your work starts to suffer. And yes, she has a reputation. Not as an easy girl, but she goes through relationships pretty quickly. Sometimes it’s a regular passenger on one of the routes, sometimes a pilot or somebody else from the crew.”
“I guessed as much.”
“Mitch, what I’m getting at is, you don’t fit the pattern.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are different from her other guys. Some of them were only interested in bedding a girl, any girl. You know the kind of men who are interested in flight attendants, and what they are really interested in. She knew their reputation, but she took them up.” She gave me a pointed look, to get her meaning across.
“Then, there were the semi-serious and serious relations. A few wanted to marry her, but some dropped her when they didn’t like what they had seen. Sometimes she broke it off,” she said. Collecting her thoughts she continued. “She was never concerned about any of her relations. She was angry with a few, but they were assholes. From what I’ve seen and heard she never gave a second thought to any of the guys. She moved on. She doesn’t fit any pattern I had seen before. She’s not shopping for a husband. Some girls who go through frequent relations are really shopping, but... she’s not.”
“I know a bit about that... I think... She wanted attention and to be loved. She couldn’t handle being alone. If somebody showed a bit of attention, she would be there. She said as much once, that her biggest fear was being alone. She was also a bit of a wild girl. Heart of the party... and people flocked. Somehow, I always thought that it was an act, perhaps to grab attention. I’m not sure, but I think she was hurt early on... before I met her. I know she went through some guys before me, and there were others when we were breaking up. In the end I was just another one on her list,” I told her.
“What else did you do? You two must have had something going?”
“Well, at first we were wary. At least, I was. Compared to how quickly she became friendly with new people, she was very reserved when we first met. We were introduced by a mutual friend and, that first moment, I fell in love with her. Sounds corny, doesn’t it?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. It’s... It was something I never felt before. It wasn’t because she was beautiful. No. I just felt drawn to her. Later, I would come to realize there was... umm... this is difficult to explain, and I don’t know how to put it... but I felt a bond... sort of like an invisible cord. She had an influence on me. She didn’t even have to touch me to exert that influence. It was something deep in my belly. Whenever she was near me, I felt like I was being pulled into a maelstrom, spinning, losing control... Does this make any sense?”
She nodded.
“Anyways... I tried to keep myself under control and fight that feeling. I don’t like to lose control. We started to see each other, mostly within a group of friends, and over a matter of days we were talking, opening up to each other. This was before I started my senior year. I wasn’t experienced enough to see some things. I didn’t see she wasn’t innocent, if you know what I mean. Part of my mind was busy trying to figure out how to finish school, the military service, and find a good job so I could settle down. I knew I wanted to marry her. That was another reason I held myself off from getting intimate with her. I didn’t want us to be caught in a... situation,” I said, with an embarrassed grin.
“It’s understandable, Mitch. Your intentions were honorable,” she assured me, then nodded at me to continue.
“There was also a vulnerable side to her. She tried to keep it hidden, but as we talked more I could see glimpses of it. Sometimes she would hint at things, and immediately move onto something else, never allowing me to dig deeper. There was some thing in her eyes; they were... misty... with... dark clouds... most of the time. From the first moment I noticed that, and later, it felt like... like there was an eternal sorrow, somewhere deep inside her. I know that sounds a bit melodramatic, or cliché, but that’s what her eyes evoked in me... I didn’t realize it at the time, but she had some deep wounds. I was just not experienced enough to read the signs. I did whatever I could to help, from what I could see, but... Anyways, we started to go out together, but still usually in a group with friends. After a while, we got pretty close. She started the intimacy; first a bit of flirting, and then the touching, kissing, and teasing. When we danced, it was really something. She was subtle, but very intimate. Necking followed. Then we had these long walks in the evening along the shore. We would talk, and make out. I could see she was no scared virgin. When she invited me into her bed... Well, then I knew it.”
“You said before, she was another person after... you were intimate...”
“She was... When we were with friends, she would flirt and do all that stuff on the dance floor. Sometimes she would be slightly restrained. But, she always seemed restless, and at times would fall back into her party mode and get really wild. Sometimes I felt tired, just watching her.”
As I continued, the memories started to trickle from the wells of past.
“When we had our long walks, she was reluctant to talk about her past, like high school and stuff. Sometimes she would be open, the next moment she would be reticent, moody. I didn’t realize it till later, but she had masks she hid behind, and her party mode was one of them. In bed, she was passionate... but afterwards... that’s when she was content, and perhaps really happy. The façade or mask would be gone. Her happiness was genuine. She looked at peace and happy. And those are the moments I could see her forget whatever that was bothering her. And, her eyes would clear, the clouds gone... I could also see her fragile side; she didn’t try to hide it... I don’t know how to explain it,” I finished with a tired sigh.
I took a deep breath, and added, “Perhaps, it doesn’t apply, but I know how I felt. I felt like I was home, belonging to her, right there by her side. Somehow, that’s the impression I got from her as well, in those moments.”
The past was coming awake from its uneasy sleep, the old feelings stirring up, reminding me what was, once. I took another deep breath, trying to cleanse my mind, my soul, but... I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander instead of fighting the images. Somehow Dana’s presence had a calming effect, giving me strength to face the past... what I had left behind.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Dana swirling the wine in her glass, giving me time to collect myself. Gathering my thoughts, I said, “For a while she would get clingy, if that’s the right word. This was right after we had been intimate a few times. She would try to be with me all the time. We would be watching other couples dance, and she would be holding onto my arm... I remember those scenes very clearly... When we had our talks, she would cuddle. If we had some real privacy, she would sit on my lap, with her arm around my neck... things she didn’t do before. She would be more loving and caring. But in a day or two it would fade away, and she would be back to wearing her mask, in the party mode, wild.”
“What happened... later?”
“I’m not sure. I probed her a few times about her future plans and explained what I had to do; finish school, the military service, and then a job. She didn’t want to talk about it, and over a matter of days, she started to push me away. She would be warm and loving, the next instant she would be cold and distant. We would still talk, or get together for a dance, but it wasn’t the same. When we were going through that period—we’d been intimate twice more—the last times, and her response had not changed. We were still close on those two occasions. That really confused me. Her body and soul was saying something, and her mouth was saying something else.”
“When did you break up?”
“Well... During that cooling off period, she was flirting with other guys, pushing me away or ignoring me, and then becoming loving again. I thought she was trying to make me jealous, so I ignored it. Since we weren’t committed to each other, I didn’t see a reason to make it an issue. I would still be there when she came for a talk, or for anything else. That’s how she got me to her bed the last two times. But, I was getting tired of her mood changes, and she was getting more blatant, so I tried to talk with her. She ignored my attempts. One day I confronted her, told her I wanted to marry her, and asked what she wanted from our relationship. She replied she wasn’t in love with me, but saw me as a good friend. I reminded her about our intimate moments, and things we used to do, share and enjoy... before things started to change. She just shrugged her shoulders, and replied she enjoyed our times together. We didn’t have a fight, but I didn’t want to play her game. It was getting pretty painful, and I suggested that we stop seeing each other.”
The memories started to flood in, as I went back in time, to the days when things really took on a turn for the worse.
“We always had a lot of friends, so we would be in a group, but ignore each other. She would flirt with some of the guys, but... I don’t know... I got the impression, she wasn’t enjoying herself as much as before... I mean, it was as if she was stepping up her wildness... her behavior was beyond her party mode act... I don’t know why, but seeing her like that saddened me more than our breakup.”
“Do you think she was using the other guys?” she asked.
“I don’t know. That’s the impression I got. I’m not talking as a jilted lover. There was a definite step-up in her wildness, and I could sense she wasn’t happy. After a while, I didn’t stick around. Dropped from the group scene. I didn’t want to see her like that, and... I don’t know... I got the feeling she didn’t want me around... as if somehow I was hurting her or making her unhappy just by being there... What I heard from other friends kind of makes me think that might be the case. They said she wasn’t as wild as she used to be, and that coincides with when I left the group scene.”
The trip down the memory lane had taken its toll, and I felt drained, but also restless. I wanted to stretch my legs, move; I didn’t want to sit. Perhaps, it was a reminder from earlier lessons, teachings from a different era of my life.
Death is in the stillness, life is in the movement!
That was what Miyamoto Musashi, Kensei—the Great Sword Saint—had written 400 years ago in his treatise; a book I had to study as part of my teachings in a martial art I hadn’t been able to master completely. I didn’t want to think about Musashi. But, as with all other memories, these memories got recalled, sometimes at the most inopportune moments. I stood up and picked the wine bottle from the table. After topping up her glass, I filled up mine and set the bottle on the floor next to the armchair. I realized Dana was watching me carefully, feeling my restlessness. Not to alarm her further, I sat down, and went through my shallow breathing exercises, while sipping my wine. From the outside, nobody would be able to see what I was doing, except perhaps another adept. I didn’t want to draw undue attention from her. In a few minutes I was feeling better. For all appearances we were both in a contemplative mood. When I looked at Dana, she took it as a signal, starting the conversation again.
“She hasn’t changed... it seems. She’s still moving from relationship to relationship,” Dana said.
“I know... well, I’m kinda guessing... It just doesn’t make sense. It never did. Was she ever happy in these last few years?” I asked, curious how she had been the last four years or so.
“I don’t know her that intimately, but if I have to take a guess... no, she hasn’t been. You’re right about that.”
“I guess I was just one of a pretty long list. Later, I realized that she must have been hurt... badly, before she met me. I think she was using people, including me. I wasn’t experienced enough to see that, and now, in hindsight, it’s kinda obvious. I loved her other side, the loving, caring side, and the vulnerability she tried to hide. Perhaps, that was what made me fall in love with her... there was this fragile beauty, her vulnerable side, like a delicate flower.”
I took a sip from my glass, collecting my thoughts. “For a short while, I was angry... at her. Angry that she pushed me away, but I got over that quickly. Much later—after our break-up—I figured out how much she must have been hurt. I didn’t know how or by whom. That’s when I got angry with myself... First, I had failed to see her hurt, and second, I hadn’t been able to... help. Worse, I had given up, quit on her. That anger helped me over the years... to survive the emptiness...” I finished with a tired sigh.
I let my head rest on the back of the armchair, looking at the ceiling for a few seconds, then closed my eyes. Dana was quiet for quite some time, going over what I told her.
“Mitch?”
“Mmmm...”
“What happened this afternoon?”
“Huh?”
“What happened this afternoon? You two were together. What did you talk about?”
I ran the whole episode in my mind trying to recall every detail, before I answered her. I finished telling my little guessing game about her relationship with the older pilot and her response, and was going to continue with the rest of what happened, when Dana interrupted me.
“She said... what?”
“She said that ‘he loves her and she finds it comforting’.”
“Who loves her?”
“One of the pilots she is currently involved with? Somebody quite a bit older than her?” I replied.
I was going to get on with my tale, but Dana interrupted me again. “Mitch? Do you recall her exact words?”
“Is that important?”
“I’m not sure... humor me, will you?” she said, with a half serious, half joking tone.
“Ummm... I asked her if she loved him and told her that I didn’t need an answer, but she needed to find the answer for herself. She ignored me and told me that I was almost right on my guess. Then she said: ‘This time it’s different; he loves me and it is comforting’,” I replied, recalling the moment with an uncanny clarity.
How could I forget? It was the moment that brought the point home... that she hadn’t changed!
“I remember it clearly, because it was the moment that made it clear she hadn’t changed, confirming my suspicions. I was almost—” I barely caught myself in time.
“You were almost?” Dana insisted.
“It’s nothing.”
“Mitch, please tell me. This might be important. On this one, trust me... please?”
“It saddened me. I felt like crying and I didn’t know if I could control myself. I didn’t want to break into tears in front of her. So, I excused myself from the table and went to the rest-rooms. There, I managed to control myself, and after washing my face I came back.”
“You did not cry?”
“No. I did not. Is it important whether I cried or not? You guessed that I cried a while ago... Well, it caught up with me eventually... here in the hotel,” I replied, getting upset.
“Mitch, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you,” Dana said, softly. “I was trying to figure out what happened, and both of your reactions. You’re forgetting something... I told you that when she came to the crew lounge she disappeared for a short while, then returned with fresh make up and red eyes. I am pretty sure she had been crying.”
“I’m sorry... It’s been a long day...”
“I understand... I really do... I don’t know how to ask this, but I need to ask something. I don’t want you to get upset about it, OK?”
After taking a deep breath and letting it out, I nodded.
“Good, Mitch, try to relax. I studied nursing for a year—quit before I became a flight attendant—so I know something about trauma, extreme stress, and reactions. If the crying that caught up with you here was bottled up from that moment at the airport, you must have had a very significant emotional stress. How did you manage to keep it under control at the time?”
“I don’t like to talk about that.”
“Why?”
“I am sorry.”
“It’s a medical curiosity, not a personal one. I remember how you looked in the airport, and how you looked after the shower when you walked into this room.”
“It’s... something like meditation... Does that help?”
“I see... Yes, that does answer some questions. Thank you. So... what happened next?”
I wasn’t aware of what I was doing. Almost on autopilot, I recalled the memory of the afternoon, and what we talked about, and the final point of our goodbye. While I went through the scenes in my mind’s eye, I gave her an almost verbatim account. When I managed to pull myself from the past and return to the present, she didn’t say anything. I looked at her, and found her taking occasional sips from her wine glass, while giving me curious glances.
“Is... is there something wrong?” I asked.
“No, nothing’s wrong... It’s...” She hesitated for a few seconds, before asking, “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“The things you told me... the afternoon, as if watching from a distance, and with so much clarity?”
Ahh! My curse.
“It’s... It’s part of that meditation thing. I can recall a lot if I pay attention. Certain things are easier to remember... like hurt, or happiness.”
Especially if I had been in the moment!
“And you also remember the times with her? The shared moments, happiness, hurt?” she asked.
I nodded.
“What a burden,” she said softly, her tone sad and sympathetic as well.
If I didn’t know better I would have agreed with her. But, nothing is simple; nothing is black and white. Yes, those memories had been a huge burden at times, but they had given me relief as well. The happy memories, they were treasures. The painful memories, they gave a meaning by contrasting the happiness. I have come to realize the duality of its nature. Yin and Yang. On the other hand, nobody needed that kind of recall—including me.
“A rose is not a rose without thorns,” I said to give her a different perspective.
She nodded her understanding.
“But you’re right; nobody needs that kind of recall. I know I benefited from that as much as I got hurt. I don’t know if I could do without the ability. It’s very much part of me, and I’ve come to accept it.”
“Mitch, how clear is your mind? How tired are you?” she asked, suddenly with a businesslike tone.
I perked up at the sudden change in her tone, and the question she posed. “I’m feeling all right. A bit drained, but that’s all. Why?”
“Do you need to have some coffee, or a smoke to make yourself... I don’t know... calm and alert?”
“I can do with a coffee and a smoke. I’m doing fine. Really.”
“OK. Let me open a window while you order some coffee. There’s something we need to talk about,” she replied with a cryptic tone. I could sense her excitement at something, but I had no idea what it could be.
After I ordered coffee, I went to the bathroom to relieve myself, and brushed my teeth. I like red wine, but I don’t like the way it stains the teeth. That done, I washed my face, feeling refreshed.
* * * * *
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