(20) St. Asha’s Day
That’s what Andrew felt like calling it, even before Benazir called him to report that Asha was threatening to run off to Vancouver with her new boyfriend. No, not Bo, he’d been flushed away and this was the new Prince Charming she’d met while applying for a barista position at Starbucks. Apparently she’d met another barista wearing a furry wolf hat on the street who’d told her of the opening, and last night, either just before or just after the interview, met some techie geek fresh from Mumbai who landed himself some plum position in Vancouver while his parents were still ditzing about trying to snag the perfect condo at Harbourfront. He’d bought her a frappuccino and they strolled to the lake, where, after a bit of smooching she’d bet, he’d convinced her to come with him. They were flying out tomorrow evening, probably without his parent’s knowledge. Andrew thought, but didn’t say, how like a Truffaut movie, the young lovers swept up in the mad abandon of the moment.
Benazir was, unusually for her, baffled. It was absolute madness, albeit from a girl who was way more in-the-moment than was good for your health. Andrew wondered if it was just crazy enough to work. At least for a few months. Benazir howled with laughter; yeah, maybe it was. So he wasn’t going to step in then? What, and act like father knows best? Yeah, Asha would respond really well to that. They laughed together. Okay, Benazir queried, so I’m not to attempt to dissuade her? Not unless you want her for a nanny or something. The thought had crossed her mind,… for about five seconds. Her current had revealed her Jehovah’s Witness affiliation and was indulging in the odd mini lecture.
Andrew relayed the news to Bridget with a concise, bemused message and offered to rustle up some further excitements for her, now that her schedule had slackened.
Bridget warned, Oh no you don’t.
Bridget you sound unusually adamant.
I decided it’s high time I practiced. This pushover stuff is for the birds.
Jordan nodded at the news when he came in from a quick stroll foreshortened by rain. You’ve done your bit, let her go. Andrew thought, or decided to think after disposing of any residual guilty responsibility, that it sounded like a good idea.
If the pressure release turned out as expected, he thought, sitting in the conservatory trying not to think and just breathe, they could refer to this day, in some geriatric future dreaming of a golden past, St. Asha’s Day. After driving Jordan to the Go station, where he seemed only mildly interested in rejoining his city life, with its anxious meditators and needy clients, and completely neglectful of the leftover stash and their possibly vengeful biker pals, he dropped in to his favoured caffeine dispensary and met, or more literally bumped into, the wolf’s head wearing barista in the doorway. Of course, it was Debra, who’d whipped him up many a latte since his arrival in town. Due to the inclement weather, with him entering and she leaving, they did not have a chance to discuss the shocking episode. Only a functional Hey Debra Hey Andrew marked the occasion. Doubtlessly the mystery of life’s design would come up again.
Inside, all was quietly abuzz. The smooth sociability of caffeine and its derivatives doused the atmosphere with a garrulous dignity. And if that wasn’t enough, none of his pals were there to jar him with conversation. A day old New York Times lay creased and crumpled in the bin. He settled with his drink into one of the sloth chairs and began his trek through the world. Lovely to escape one’s personal triumphs and tragedies for a while. Lovely to exercise the mind in perception and analysis. Lovely to have a nap too. Perhaps such luxurious disconnection could be savoured later in the day, once an appealing lunch had settled the noon cravings.
