Finally, it was her turn to take the mike. She looked out over the motley but surprisingly kindly sea of people, opened her mouth, and then closed it. C’mon, Buddha, she thought, help me. I’m dyin’ up here. Christy took a deep breath and then spoke. “I came to the ashram,” she started, “I came because, I came because I thought, I thought I could somehow mend my heart here. But I realize as I stand before you that I came to the wrong place. Over the last day and a half as I’ve meditated, one vision keeps recurring in my mind. And when I see it, I’m at peace. It’s my daughter, Renata.” As Christy spoke, everything became clear. It was as though Buddha had given her a pair of magic spectacles and now she could see what had been a blur before. “I think I’m going back to New York now, to Renata. But you know, I believe I needed to come here, to this ashram, to open my eyes to how much my little girl means to me, so thank you for that.” Christy smiled, waved, and ran out the door. If she hurried, she could catch the last flight home.
Reality Bites
Christy’s plane arrived at La Guardia at five A.M. Rather than wake Steven, she grabbed a taxi. As the car sped down the Long Island Expressway, she made a mental list of ways she would be a better person now—no more sodas, candy, or ice cream, more workouts, less mind-numbing TV. She would get her act together, and then she’d know what to do. She supposed that in some ways, Renata had contributed to her current predicament. If not for the child, Christy would have kept her eye on business and on Michael. Without her, maybe none of this would have happened. And yet now, Christy couldn’t imagine her life without Renata playing a central role—this lovely, smart, funny little person who introduced her to a side of herself that she’d never known. After training her butt off since she was twelve, then working it off since she was twenty-six, eating junk and languishing about like a couch potato was a revelation. Thanks to Renata, Christy had tasted the Zen of wasting time. But more than that, Renata cared about the real Christy. Her public glory and recent defeat meant nothing to her. No matter how things turned out with Michael, she knew Renata would stick by her.
When the twinkling dawn skyline of the city appeared over Shea Stadium, Christy realized how nervous she was. She didn’t know if her arrival home signaled the beginning of the end or some kind of new beginning.
Christy paid the cabdriver, then rolled her suitcase into the lobby. The doorman was nowhere to be found. She asked the concierge to hold her bag while she ran to the deli on Lexington to pick up a quart of milk. A few minutes later, she was prowling the aisles, loading up on cookies, candy, doughnuts—no form of sugar was too low for this attack. After paying for it, she looked at the pile and thought, I have got to get something healthy, so she threw down a quarter for an apple. Running outside, she ripped open bags and started shoving the goodies down her throat. Then she stopped. I cannot do this, she thought. I promised myself I wouldn’t. She ditched what was left in the trash, then bit into the apple, and told herself it was delicious. Christy shook her head sadly. I have a long way to go before enlightenment, she thought.
The apartment was dark and quiet when Christy made her way into the living room. Renata must still be sleeping, she thought, disappointed. Ali’s backpack was in the middle of the entry hall, and her jacket and fur boots were on the floor. Christy kicked them to the side. On the bridge table, four stacks of mail were waiting to be opened. She sunk into the living room couch and sat in silence. A note was taped to the frame of the Frank Stella that hung over the fireplace. That was the first piece of art Michael and I bought together, Christy remembered. She walked over to it and ripped it off:
Christy, I’m at the Harvard Club if you need me. Michael
That’s it? I’m at the Harvard Club? What does that mean? Have you moved out? Aren’t we going to talk? First you cheat on me. Then you leave it up to me to make the next move, she thought angrily. And what about Ali? Am I supposed to take care of her? When she’d meditated about her marriage at Dharmadhan, it all seemed like a bad dream. Now, in her empty apartment, it was real. Damn him for Galit. What was he thinking?
She went back to the couch and lay down, taking stock of her losses. Let’s see, her marriage, her business, her money, Katherine, Maria. At least she had Renata.
“Christy?”
She sat up. Renata was standing at the foot of the sofa.
Christy smiled. She was happy and relieved to see her. “Hey, come here. I really missed you,” she said.
Renata stared at her.
“What?” Christy asked.
Tears started down her face. The words wouldn’t come.
“What?” she asked again.
“M…M…Mrs. De Mille. She…she d-died.”
“Oh my God, when? Here, come, sit, tell me what happened.”
Renata collapsed onto the couch, sobbing. Christy put her arm
