"In a world where pleasure rules, people tend to be underdeveloped in every other way. Your Miss Zeloski sounds like a good teacher."
177 /.
"She is," I said, "though it took me a while to realize it."
"Let"s go on to the sacred precincts," Sandy suggested. "There"s a lesson in compa.s.sion."
"It"s a sort of B.C. Lourdes," Rhea explained, "dedicated to the G.o.d Aesculapius."
"I gave Polly a book about it." Sandy galloped down the high marble stairs as agilely as Xan.
When we got to the sacred precincts, we stopped talking. We saw dormitories for sick people, saw the special baths in which they were given healing waters.
In the museum we saw ancient surgical instruments, and Sandy remarked that some of them were like those in Dennys"s office.
When we left the museum he said, "They knew a lot about psychology, those old Greeks. One of their medicines for healing was comedy. The patients sat just where we were, and on the stage the best actors of the day played comedies-Euripides, and other less well known playwrights. They were exceedingly bawdy-Shakespeare would have been right at home-and exceedingly funny, and laughter does have healing qualities."
"Miss Zeloski said that Shakespeare was bawdy, but never dirty."
"True." Rhea nodded. "The Greeks were way ahead of the present world in many ways. I"m proud of my ancestry." I thought I saw Sandy give her a look, a signal. She went on, "I"m rather tired and I think I"ll just sit and rest for half an hour. Then it"ll be time for lunch. You two go on."
"You all right?" Sandy sounded concerned, so maybe it wasn"t a signal after all.
"I take longer to get over jet lag than you do. I"m fine, and I"ll be famished for lunch."
178.
"Okay, Pol?" Sandy asked.
"Sure." We wandered along the path together, I was glad there weren"t many other tourists that morning, because the ancient stones, even the air we breathed, filled me with awe.
We stood near the site of the snake pit. "You read the book on Epidaurus I gave you?" Sandy asked.
"I finished it last night."
"A patient couldn"t get through the outer gates until all bitterness and self-pity and anger were gone. The belief was that healing wasn"t possible until the spirit was cleansed. I think you"re better, Polly, but not all the way. Am I.
right?"
I nodded.
"What are you holding on to? What can"t you let go?"
I turned away from him.
He followed me.
"Zachary said I"d put a hard sh.e.l.l around myself."
"That"s more perspicacious than I"d given him credit for. Hardness doesn"t become you."
"I know."
"I"m not asking you to forget, Polly, because you"re never going to forget.
What you have to do is remember, with compa.s.sion, and forgive."
My voice trembled. "Uncle Sandy, I don"t like having a piece of ice stuck in my heart. It hurts!"
"Sit here in the sun," he said, "and let it thaw. I"ll be back for you in a few minutes. I"m going to see how Rhea"s doing."
He was leaving me for Rhea just as Ursula had left me- Stop it, Polyhymnia O"Keefe. That"s plain self-pity, self-indulgent self-pity.
None of that.
I sat where Sandy had left me, on an uncomfortable 179.
stone bench. I closed my eyes, and a vision of the dream from the night before came back to me, unbidden. I was in the boat, protecting the baby, and the seagull flew over us.
And the seagull was Max.
Ursula had called Daddy to tell him she was going to Charleston for one last consultation with Dr. Ormsby, and asked if I could go over to Beau Allaire to stay with Max. Nettie and Ovid roomed over the garage, and it was not a good idea for Max to be completely alone.
Ursula would be back as early as possible on Sat.u.r.day.
"Do you want to go?" Daddy asked me. We were in the lab, and it was September-hot; sometimes it seems September is the hottest month of all.
Daddy wore shorts and a white T-shirt. I had on shorts, too, and a halter top, and I"d just scrubbed down the floor and cleaned my tanks.
"Max shouldn"t be alone." I looked at him. I"d talked with him about Max, and he"d treated me as an intelligent adult. I didn"t want him to treat me as a child now.
He didn"t. "I"ve talked with Dr. Netson, and he doesn"t expect any radical problem in the immediate future. But this disease is unpredictable, so if Max should show any kind of alarming symptoms, call him at once. Or call Renny.
And of course, call me."
"Okay, but you don"t think there will-"
"No, Pol, I don"t think so. Your mother and I are very fond of Max and Ursula, and I"m glad we can help, even a little. Max has given you a lot, in self-confidence particularly."
180.
Daddy was sitting in an old leather chair that was too battered, even, for our house. I perched on the sagging arm. "Daddy, people are so complicated!"
That hasn"t just occurred to you, has it, Pol?"
"No. But Max and Ursula seem particularly complicated."
"In a way, they are. But, you know, I prefer their kind of complication to some of the c.o.c.ktail-partying, wife-swapping, promiscuous lives of some of the people in Cowpertown."
"And Mulletville."
"Yes. Many of them are on third or fourth marriages. Love has to he worked at, and that"s not popular now-"
"I"m glad you and Mother don"t worry about being popular."
"We do work at our marriage. And it"s worth it."
"And I"m glad you trust me," I said.
"Over the years, you"ve proven yourself to be trustworthy."
"I hope I"ll never let you down."
He pulled me onto his knees. "You will," he said gently. "It"s human nature.
We all let each other down. I may be putting too much responsibility on you, in allowing you to go over to Beau Allaire to stay with a very ill woman."
"I want to go."
"I know you do, and I"m glad you do. Your mother and I have always given you a great deal of responsibility, and you"re a very capable young woman. Just remember, call me if there"s even the slightest sense of emergency."
"All right."
But I didn"t get a chance to call.
On Friday I piloted everybody home in the boat, then 181.
packed my overnight bag. Mother was going to drive me to Beau Allaire because Daddy had some kind of meeting to go to and would need the Land-Rover.
"Just call on Sat.u.r.day morning when you"re ready, and I"ll be over."
"Urs said she might be able to bring me home." "Whichever. Just remember, it"s no trouble for me."
She dropped me outside the house, waited till Ovid opened the door, waved, and drove off.
Ovid led me through the house and onto the back verandah. The ceiling fans were whirring, but the air was oppressive.
Max held out her hands in greeting. "Heavy electrical storms forecast, with possible damaging winds. I lost a great oak in the last storm, and I don"t want to lose any more. Nettie has fixed a cold meal for us and left it in the fridge.
She and Ovid feel the heat, and I told them to take the evening off. We"ll leave the dishes in the sink and they"ll take care of them in the morning."
We watched Ovid retreating toward the kitchen, a slight figure in his dark pants and white coat, and cottony hair. Then I regarded Max and was grateful that the pain lines were not deep.
Ovid came back in to refill the pitcher of lemonade, then said good night to us and left. I wondered if he and Nettie knew how ill Max really was.
She took a long drink and put her gla.s.s down. "Do you believe in the soul, Polly?" Max never hesitated to ask cosmic questions out of the blue.
"Yes." I thought maybe she"d turn her scorn on me, but she didn"t.
"So, what is it, this thing called soul?"
This scarred thing, full of adhesions. "It"s-it"s your you and my me?
"What do you mean by that?"
182.
"It"s what makes us us, different from anybody else in the world."
"Like snowflakes? You have seen snow, haven"t you- yes, of course you have.
All those trillions of snowflakes, each one different from the other?"
"More than snowflakes. The soul isn"t-ephemeral."
"A separate ent.i.ty from the body?"
I shook my head. "I think it"s part. It"s the part that-well, in your painting of the harbor at Rio, it"s the part which made you know what paint to use, which brush, how to make it alive."
Max looked at the silver pitcher, sparkling with drops, as though it were a crystal ball. "So it"s us, at our highest and least self-conscious."
"That"s sort of what I mean."
"The amazing thing is that one"s soul, or whatever one calls it, is strongest when one is least aware. That"s when the soul is most aware. We get in our own way, and that diminishes our souls." She pushed up from her chair and headed toward the table, which was already set with silver and china. "Be an angel and bring the food out to the verandah."
We ate comfortably together. Max had a book with her and began leafing through it, looking for something. "There"s a pa.s.sage our conversation reminds me of .
"What?"
"In the Upanishads-a series of Sanskrit works which are part of the Veda.
Here it is, Pol, listen: In this body, in this town of Spirit, there is a little house shaped like a lotus, and in that house there is a little s.p.a.ce. There is as much in that little s.p.a.ce within the heart as there is in the whole world outside. Maybe that little s.p.a.ce is the reality of your you and my me?"
"Could I copy that?" I asked.
183 /.
"Of course. I"ve been watching that little s.p.a.ce within your heart enlarging all year as more and more ideas are absorbed into it. Some people close their doors and lock them so that nothing can come in, and the s.p.a.ce cannot hold anything as long as the heart clutches in self-protection or l.u.s.t or greed. But if we"re not afraid, that little s.p.a.ce can be so large that one could put a whole universe in it and still have room for more." She stopped and her hand went up and pressed against her chest, and I could see pain dimming the silver in her eyes.
"Get me some whiskey. Quickly."
I ran into the house and into the dining room, turning on the lights. The Waterford chandelier sparkled into bloom. I hurried to the sideboard and got the decanter of bourbon, with its silver label, turned out the light, ran back to the verandah, and poured Max a good tot.
She drank it in a gulp, so quickly that she almost choked, then sighed and put the gla.s.s down. "It works, and quickly. I"m sorry, Pol, I don"t like you to see me in pain."