(2) Supper For Two
Jordan had descended an hour or so later and had immediately called him on looking gloomy. Andrew, feeling sort of defensive-aggressive, explained how the thought of Lara had brought him to thoughts of his sister, dying without his bloody permission, all those years ago. Jordan, of course, absolutely bloody of course, had his own skeletons and closets. Expecting the usual avalanche of information Andrew was loath to act interested. Jordan plunged right on in anyway, with Andrew folding himself into a tried and true empathetic posture.
A surprise call from Bridget pressed the pause button for a moment. She was worried about Asha, who was long overdue from her shift at Tim’s. Even this new boyfriend hadn’t heard from her. Andrew insisted that they suspect the worst and start worrying about it pronto. Asha’s little dramas were becoming commonplace, even Bridget, with her fresh start on the perils of motherhood, had to admit that. Sure enough, she walked in as they were talking. Bridget changed the subject and was soon off the line. The pause button was released and Jordan was off again.
Andrew, sensing the inevitable, took himself in hand, whipping up a positive attitude. And really, Jordan’s tale spinning survived its telling. One old friend, alienated with his then new ‘weird’ hobbies, had drifted away, or at least allowed Jordan to drift away, only to contract a life threatening disease a month later. He’d passed shortly thereafter with the wounds between them still unhealed. Another old friend, Alice, who had likely harboured quiet thoughts of marriage while they were casually dating, that was way back when Jordan had secured a dull but reliable government job in one of the lesser known ministries, had flipped when he quit to study with the lamas, and had rushed into the arms of a rival he didn’t know he had, only to die in a booze fuelled highway bust-up. All in a matter of three weeks believe it or not.
Then there was Larry. Now that was some years later when his psychics had started to really flourish, and he was actively hiring himself out. Larry, being much more of a Christian than Jordan had ever suspected, accused him of witchcraft, cut him off from dinner invites, which had been plentiful and welcome previously, and instituted daily prayers for his eternal soul. Jordan had been miffed and defensive, suggesting that damnation was pretty good so far, to which Larry had replied, It always is in the beginning, the high flyer life style, the girls, the drugs. Jordan had laughed, scratching the last three items off the menu. Larry had become indignant, making the sign of the cross before walking away. Walking away to a Vancouver promotion as it turned out. But at least he was still alive, Jordan grinned. At least as far as he knew. Of course living with the lamas for those two years had severely shrunk his circle. Some people just didn’t want to know. And yet leaving their midst to rekindle his commitment to community, for after all, what use was enlightenment if you couldn’t bring it to your fellow men, didn’t seem to reverse the effect. In a way he’d gone from admirers to acolytes, but the process had taken years.
Andrew nodded, thinking wasn’t that something to do with the Bodhisattva vow, where you dragged your wisdom about, bestowing it on the various and sundry needy? His Buddhist studies were a bit thin on the ground as yet, Gnostic Christianity having grabbed his attention some years back. A well thumbed Nag Hammadi Bible sat on his shelves. Somewhere.
They discussed and reminisced until a glass of wine seemed appropriate, and a while after that, dinner loomed. They settled on Thai, driving over to Thai Thai without incident. Except for a short exchange about Lara. Andrew felt that they’d left her in the house and Jordan nodded, Yeah, think so. They climbed the stairs and sat by the second floor window, surveying its evening life as they waited for their appetisers.
