Miss Buddha (10 page)

“I’m going to be in a book,” said Melissa
once she judged she could wrestle his attention away from the
television long enough to actually have a conversation.

“What?” said Charles.

“A book.”

“What book?”

“Mr. Wolf,” she said.

Charles didn’t seem to understand, or
remember.

“The man who came to see me,” she added.

“Ah. Ananda Wolf,” he accurately remembered
and then declared, for he did meet the lawyer requirement of a good
and precise memory for names.

“Yes,” she said.” That’s his name. A little
odd.”

“A little weird,” said Charles. “I thought
he said Amanda.”

“Yes, so did I,” said
Melissa. “But it’s Ananda,” stressing it:
An
-anda.

“What did he want?” asked Charles, while
also now working the remote control, changing the set to display
the schedule of other college games.

“He is writing a book about first-time
mothers.”

Charles stopped fiddling with the remote to
look over at Melissa. All alert now. “How does he know you are
pregnant?”

“Apparently, he knows Doctor Ross.”

“What business is it of hers to speak to
writers about her patients?”

“That I could not tell you.”

“You should ask her.”

She had thought of that. “I plan to.”

When Charles didn’t answer, Melissa said,
“But I think it’s a great idea.”

“What is?” Charles now back at working the
remote and checking scores on the screen.

“The book, Charles. That’s what we’re
talking about. Could you please put that thing down for a
second?”

“Sorry.” He flipped the channel again, then
said to the screen, “Is he paying you anything for it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

Which earned Melissa another husbandy
glance. “You didn’t ask?”

“No. It didn’t cross my mind.”

Charles shook his head in that
when-will-you-ever-grow-up way he deployed when frustrated or
confused.

“Did you sign anything?”

“No. He’s sending me paperwork later.”

“Let me see it before you sign.”

It was now Melissa’s turn to not respond.
Charles didn’t have to agree, that’s what Ananda Wolf had said. And
Charles, from what she could tell, could not care less one way or
the other about this book.

Instead she rose and left Charles to his
games.

Leaving the living room Melissa made a
mental note not to forget to ask Doctor Ross about Ananda Wolf, and
why she would have told him that she was pregnant.

And she
had
meant to ask her, she had in fact
remembered to do so even as she stepped into her office, but at
this appointment she had the first ultrasound, and the detection of
that new little life which flooded her with she could not describe
precisely what, joy perhaps, though more than that, something
deeper; in the wash of that she just plain forgot.

She found Mr. Wolf, who had already called
her twice to see how she was doing, to be a very nice man. She
enjoyed talking to him. He was comforting. Very supportive. So
different from Charles.

::
17 :: (Still River)

Doctor Ross answered the phone herself.

“Good morning,” said Ananda, and introduced
himself.

“How can I help you?” she asked in a
pleasant but professional voice.

“I am writing a book on first-time
pregnancies, first-time motherhood, and Melissa Marten is one of my
research subjects.”

“Yes?”

“I believe she is your patient.”

“Yes, she is.”

“How is she doing? Are things going as
expected?”

“Who did you say you were?” No longer quite
so pleasant.

“Ananda Wolf. I’m a writer.”

“And you are doing research?”

“Yes.”

“As a researcher you should know that I
cannot discuss any of my patients without a signed release.”

Ananda grew very alert, almost painfully so.
He found himself on very thin ice, and it was cracking—cold,
threatening water below.

But there’s nothing like necessity to
sharpen the senses, and in this case the intellect. “You have not
received it?” Ananda heard himself say.

“No,” said Doctor Ross.

“Oh, I apologize. I’ll make sure it gets to
you, and then perhaps we can talk.”

“That would be fine.”

Ananda noticed his hand shake a little as he
ended the call.

:

It rang so many times before Melissa
answered the phone that Ananda was about to hang up, to call back
later.

“Hello.” She seemed a little out of
breath.

“Melissa?”

“Yes.” Panting still. She had definitely
been running.

“This is Ananda Wolf.”

“Yes. I can tell.”

“Of course.” Then, “Have you been
running?”

“Exercising,” she said. “The treadmill.”

“Should you? I mean, considering.” Ananda
honestly did not know.

“Oh, sure. Yeah, no problem.”

“Well, that’s all right then. So, how are
you feeling today, other than out of breath?”

“I was sick this morning,” she said. “Not
much fun.”

“But you’re feeling fine now?”

“No,” she said. “Not really. Better, but not
fine.”

Ananda, who knew next to nothing about
motherhood or morning sickness, didn’t know what to say. So what he
came up with was, “One of the perks, I guess.”

Melissa laughed at that, a short giggle that
struck him as happy. He could almost see her eyes sparkle. “At
least there’s no mistake about it,” she said.

Again, Ananda didn’t quite know what to say.
He was, after all, not writing a book about first-time mothers, and
he did not enjoy the deception, not in the least.

“Are you eating well?”

“You bet. Better than ever. More than ever.
I must be gaining a pound a day.”

Ananda decided then and there to do some
serious catching up on pregnancies—especially first-time ones—what
to expect and do; at least to the point of sounding borderline
intelligent on the subject. He owed her that much.

“When is your next checkup?” he asked.

“Tuesday.”

And here Ananda sets out on his
well-rehearsed reason for calling: “Which reminds me,” he said.
“I’ve sent you a release for your signature, that is, if it’s okay
with you. Something Doctor Ross needs in order to share your
progress with me. Only if it’s okay with you, of course.”

“Sure. That’s fine by me.”

“Has it arrived yet?”

“No.”

“It should be there any day. Once you’ve
signed it, I wonder, could you give it to Doctor Ross.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Melissa.” Then said, not sure why,
“Be sure to eat lots of fruit.”

“I’ll do that,” said Melissa, and Ananda
could picture her smiling.

Then he remembered, “The other papers. Our
agreement?”

“Yes, I meant to tell you, Charles wanted to
look them over.”

“Oh, okay.”

“They look just fine with me.”

“Pretty standard stuff,” said Ananda. And he
was not lying, he had pulled the agreement, word for word, from an
online standard contracts library. Fifty dollars’ worth of
standard, nothing-out-of-the-ordinary agreement.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Well, when you get a chance to sign them,
just return them to me. Or if you—Charles—has any questions, call
me.”

“Will do.”

As Ananda said goodbye he quietly
congratulated himself for remembering to nudge her for the
agreement as well, keeping things authentic. That was the whole
idea right now, keeping things authentic.

:

“Oh, yes,” said Melissa, “I almost
forgot.”

She rummaged through her handbag and found
the release. “Mister Wolf wanted me to give you this.

“That writer?”

“Yes.”

Doctor Ross took the release form, and
looked it over.

“So you can let him know how I’m doing,”
said Melissa.

The doctor nodded while looking it over. It
seemed to be in order.

:

This time she picked up right away. But
something was wrong. There was an edge to her voice he had not
heard before, or a bruise.

“How are you, Melissa?” he said.

She didn’t answer right away.

“Are you all right?”

After another short silence, she asked,
“Have you ever been married, Mister Wolf?”

“Yes.”

“Happily?”

“Initially.”

“You are not married now, are you?”

“No.”

“So not so happily in the end?”

“Civilized enough,” he said, not at all sure
where this was leading. When she said nothing else, he said, “Why
do you ask?”

“He won’t sign the agreement,” she said.

“He doesn’t have to.”

“He says he has to.”

“No, the agreement is between you and me,
Melissa.”

“He, to quote him, begs to differ.”

“Well,” said Ananda after scrambling through
a string of thoughts, none leading a precise where. “That doesn’t
alter the fact.” The best he could do.

“Could it be that he would have to
agree?”

“No, Melissa. He doesn’t have to agree.”

But was he really sure about that? From
research he had done such agreements were between the writer and an
individual, not between writer and a married couple.

“Are you sure?”

Here Ananda pressed as much certainty into
his answer as he could, “Yes, Melissa. I am sure.”

“Well, good. Because I signed it and sent it
to you.”

“Thanks, Melissa.”

“Charles was furious.”

“What did he say?”

“He threatened to tear the agreement up and
to sue you for invasion of privacy.”

“What?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“But you signed it?”

“Yes. I told him this was none of his
business, and then he stormed out.”

“Oh, Melissa. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to
cause trouble.”

He could picture her shake her head. “No,
Mister Wolf. No. This is not your doing. You just brought things to
a point. If it hadn’t been this, it would have been something
else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be.”

Then, after a silence in which Ananda could
almost hear her put the question together, then wonder whether she
should ask it, she said, “What do you do when you just can’t
talk?”

“You and Charles?”

“Yes. When you realize that what you meant
to say just isn’t getting across.” She paused, then said, “And when
you realize that it probably never will.”

Ananda said nothing, but he had listened so
well that Melissa felt heard. “It doesn’t matter what I say,” she
said. “I can tell that while he looks at me, and seems to be
hearing, he is not listening. Or listening from such a distance
that no real meaning can cross such a gap.”

“Perhaps he was upset about the agreement?”
suggested Ananda.

“Oh, no. This is nothing new. I have
wondered about this since before I was pregnant.” She fell silent
again, putting things together. “To be honest,” she said. “I had
hoped that the baby would heal this rift, bring us closer.”

“Did you ever,” began Ananda, then wasn’t
sure how to finish the question.

But Melissa must have heard the unspoken
intent. “I really don’t know,” she said. “When you first fall in
love, everything glitters. You believe you understand each other,
all of each other.”

“I know,” said Ananda. “I know that
feeling.”

“So how do you tell whether that was real
understanding or whether it was just being in love,
infatuation?”

“I know that hindsight is twenty-twenty,” he
said, “but in my experience we tend to see the other as we wish him
or her to be. Especially when things start out.” Ananda was indeed
speaking from experience.

“Precisely.” She said that as if Ananda had
hit upon the deepest of truths. “That’s precisely it. You see who
you want to see, and I wanted very much to see the Charles I really
thought I loved.”

“And he wanted to see the you that he
loved?”

“I guess.”

“And then,” said Ananda. “Once the glitter
settled, was there real understanding?”

Ananda could almost hear Melissa scour
memory for instances of this. Finally, she said, “I’m not sure. I
don’t know.”

“Do you love him now?”

After another short silence she answered, “I
don’t know.”

Then it was as if Melissa
roused herself, grasping familiar bearings again. “I’m
so
sorry,” she said.
“What am I doing telling you all this?”

“Oh, don’t be,” said Ananda. “Please.”

“This has nothing to do with your
project.”

“Melissa,” said Ananda. “I
don’t see you as a project. I see you as a friend. And believe me
when I say that I
am
your friend as well.”

“You really mean that.”

“I really mean that.”

“You’re a kind man, Mister Wolf.”

“Ananda. Please.”

“You’re a kind man, Ananda.”

“Perhaps so.”

“Thanks for listening.”

“Not at all. And please know that if ever
you want to talk, just call me. Any time of day or night.”

“You mean that, too, don’t you?”

“Yes, I mean that.”

“Just like a good friend.”

“Just like a good friend.”

:

That same evening, as Ananda was preparing
his evening meal, chopping four cloves of garlic into very fine
slivers, Gotama’s timbreless but unmistakable voice rose again.

“You have met my mother?” he said.

“Yes, I have.”

“You have come to know her?”

“Yes, I have.”

“She has come to trust you?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“I am pleased, Ananda.”

“So am I, friend. You have chosen well. She
will be a fine mother. She is a good person.”

“Yes, she is.”