Tantra Goddess. Caroline Muir

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СКАЧАТЬ and return in early July. “I want to taste parts of life I have missed before it’s too late, Arnie. Can you understand that?”

      “And who is Eddie?”

      I reminded him.

      Arnie nodded, probably remembering my silence on the long drive back to New York after that New Year’s Eve, my fading interest in serving him his favorite dinners on his weekends home. He sighed a long sigh. “Are you in love with this guy?”

      “I don’t know, Arnie, but something big is happening. I haven’t stopped thinking about him since we met. This is the chance of a lifetime to learn more about myself, an opportunity I may never have again.” Eddie and I planned to travel through England, Wales, and Scotland, then sail from southern England to the northern coast of Spain before I returned home.

      “You’ve been talking to this guy, making plans?” Arnie was surprised, but curious. “What about Robin Lee? What about us?”

      “I suppose you could call it a leave of absence,” I said. “We can look at it all when I’m home in three months.”

      I reminded him that I’d gotten engaged in my senior year of high school and had married him just after my eighteenth birthday, and he surprised me then, with the greatest possible show of true love. “Do what you need to do, Kernie. I may be your husband, but I’m also your friend.” I flung my arms around his neck and held him close, loving him more in that moment than ever before.

      After that, though, the tension between us was thick. We slept on the farthest edges of our king-sized bed, and every day I had to steel myself against what I would miss, or I may never have gone. I couldn’t bear thinking of Robin wondering why I wasn’t there to send her off to school in the mornings after brushing out her long, tangled hair. Why I couldn’t cook dinner for her, or read to her, or talk to her about her friends in preschool. To distract myself, I spent hours on the phone with Eddie, making lists of travel arrangements I needed to make, filling and re-filling my duffel bags with “cute outfits for Europe,” and going through the motions of mothering and housekeeping with my mind thousands of miles away. Arnie changed his schedule to be home more nights while I was gone, and we began training a part-time nanny to pick up Robin from school, watch her in the afternoons, and cook dinner for them.

      At last the morning of my departure came. I packed Robin’s lunch and saw her off to school, then sat with my bags, waiting for the taxi that would take me to Kennedy Airport. I felt heavy and exhilarated. It was a major crossroads, choosing the unknown and unpredictable over everything familiar. It also meant I was now a carrier of the great scarlet letter “A,” for abandonment. My mother had carried that letter, and look how well I survived. I assumed those I was leaving would survive just as well. How could I create harm with this choice?

      Springtime in Paris may be romantic, but England in April is nothing but bloody cold. Right away, I had to buy wool clothing and rain gear, as Eddie and I traveled through England, Scotland, and Wales. We stayed in quaint bed-and-breakfast inns and made love while gazing out the windows at a life so different and so far away from New York or Chicago. I had hoped for something sensational with Eddie, something like the passion I had enjoyed with Steven or even the comfort and sense of family I felt with Arnie, but Eddie had far less experience with relational love than I had, and sex was disappointing. It didn’t matter much, though. I had other things on my mind. Adventure was the fuel that drove me as we got ready to sail the open sea. And London! The pubs and the people, the British Museum, Piccadilly, the double-decker buses, the birdman in Wellington Park—all of it gave me a joyous sense of aliveness as we geared up to meet the boat in Falmouth, on the southern coast.

      On June 1, we set sail on the Seawatch, Captain Chuck’s forty-five-foot vessel. We had trained hard in the art of sailing, traveling through inlets and around the harbors near Falmouth, admiring the southern English countryside and learning from Captain Chuck how essential it was that we wear life vests, take orders, and pay attention at all times. In less than two hours we were outside of predictable waters surrounding the Port of Falmouth and on our way. In three nights and four days we would be across the Bay of Biscay. Then we would dock for a few weeks in Santander, Spain, and go on to sail the northern coast of Spain into warmer weather south toward Portugal.

      From the start, the waters were rough. The boat rocked hard and the swells rose high around us, sending poor Eddie below deck to his bunk, severely seasick. It looked like it was going to be up to Captain Chuck and me to get us through. “Kern,” Captain Chuck said to me that first night, “you and I are going to have to split Ed’s watch. Can you do it?”

      Eddie’s watch was six hours on, six hours off. I would have to take the wheel while Captain Chuck slept. I knew I had no option but to say yes. Our lives depended on my answer. “Sure, Chuck,” I said, as confidently as I could. “I can do it.”

      That night, when the moon was high in the sky, Captain Chuck set the compass for our destination. My job was to watch those degrees on the compass, hold the wheel on course, and line the tall mast with a particular star. “Do a good job,” the captain said, bidding me goodnight before heading down to his bunk.

      Enough adrenalin pumped through me to sail us to China as I sat alone that night, the icy wind whipping my face and threatening to send my wool cap and goose-down hood flying. I was too thrilled to be frightened as I kept an eye on the compass, the water, the sky, and the sails. The world seemed huge and amazing. The next two nights were the same, thrilling and mind-blowing. My two overstuffed duffle bags of “cute outfits for Europe” sat zippered in the hull, leaving me little space to lie down during my precious few hours of sleep time. But that was nothing compared to what went on for poor Eddie, who never left his bunk while Captain Chuck and I traded off guiding the Seawatch to our destination.

      When the Port of Santander came into view, ecstasy surged through every cell of my being, my legs sprawled over the bow and encircling the carved Nordic sea goddess. I had helped guide us to safety. I had done it. I was more than a wife and mother. I was courageous. I helped save lives. I could be counted on.

      And I had to start a new life.

      When we got back to the States, Eddie planned to move to Aspen, Colorado. I would move to Colorado, too, with Robin, and live in the mountains near Johnny and his family. I’d see Eddie in Aspen now and then and do everything I could to find out what more there was to this life besides living in a container that wasn’t my size. I wanted to discover my potential, and I could only do that by moving forward, sails set on the brightest star in the sky. That had been my epiphany during my second night at sea.

      I rehearsed my words: “Arnie, I have to get out of New York. I know you have no desire to live in the wild, and I’m burnt out on city life. I have loved New York with you, but I need to be free.” When that didn’t sound right, I tried, “I can be a better friend living closer to nature than I can a wife living in this container that’s too small for me,” and “I am questioning my ability to stay sane if I have to remain a housewife and mother.”

      But back in New York I discovered it was easier to rehearse the truth than to confront someone I truly loved. My resolve quickly faded. Robin was bubbling over with stories about school and summer plans, and Arnie was as attentive to me as he’d been when we were first together. He seemed confident things would return to normal. It was easier to sail a forty-five-foot boat all night, responsible for three lives, than it was to tell Arnie I had to go.

      Then one day, I hit bottom. A cop flashed his lights in my rear view mirror during rush hour as I drove home to New Rochelle. I didn’t understand at first that he wanted me to pull over, so I turned onto the East River Drive ramp. Traffic stopped in both directions as the police car somehow wound through it to pull me over. I was doomed. I had read about cops who harassed, even СКАЧАТЬ