The Good Luck of Right Now(55)
I chased after her.
She was retching over the mound of snow piled between the street and the sidewalk, so I held her hair and rubbed her back, just like Mom used to do for me whenever I was sick as a little boy. The entire restaurant watched us through the window.
Max and Father McNamee came out next, and Father said, “Are you okay?”
Elizabeth nodded and said, “I just need some air. Leave me alone, please. Please!”
When she began to walk down the street, Father said, “Follow her, Bartholomew!”
“Me?” I said.
“What the f*ck, hey, Elizabeth!” Max yelled. “This is a free meal. Isn’t it time you f*cking got over this?”
Father smiled, winked, and said, “This is your big chance. Go.”
It’s snowing in Old Montreal. How beautiful! you, Richard Gere, said. Suddenly you were there, bundled up in a leather coat and a plaid scarf, smiling at me, your eyes twinkling like my new tektite crystal. Use the charm of the moment! Step into the romance of now! You can make The Girlbrarian fall in love with you! Look around. This town is loaded with charm! Use it, big guy!
“She doesn’t like to be called The Girlbrarian,” I said to you as I rushed after Elizabeth.
Doesn’t matter, big guy. What matters is that you’re going to be alone with the girl of your dreams in Old Montreal as the snow falls gently all around you. Love is imminent. You cannot fail. This is your moment. The Dalai Lama says be compassionate and all will work out for the best. Just be kind. It’s time for love. This is the perfect moment. Give her the fairy tale!
“She’s sick! She just threw up in a snowbank!”
That’s The Good Luck of Right Now, right?
The bad that will lead to good!
The flip side of the same coin.
The universe is sending you a sign. The universe has put you in this exact position for a reason. Now is your moment, Bartholomew. The Good Luck of Right Now! Remember your mother’s philosophy. What would she tell you? What would your mother tell us?
You looked so proud of me, Richard Gere, and I wondered how you found me in Canada—but then I remembered the letters I had written you, explaining where I was going. Your coming and helping me—especially knowing how busy you are with your acting and official Dalai Lama business—it means so, so much to me that I almost started to cry.
Thank you, Richard Gere.
Thank you one million times.
With a friend like you, I felt that I truly couldn’t fail to impress Elizabeth now.
Cool tektite crystal, you said to me when you noticed it bouncing against my coat zipper as I ran down the sidewalk after Elizabeth, trying not to slip on ice.
“Thanks,” I said.
You winked and nodded, gave me the thumbs-up with your expensive-looking leather glove—and then you vanished like a ghost.
When I caught up to Elizabeth, I could tell she was still upset, so I walked next to her for seven or so city blocks, catching my breath and allowing her to walk off her bad energy, like I had done before with Father McNamee.
I decided to wait until she spoke first, before saying anything.
When we reached the Saint Lawrence River, Elizabeth stopped and said, “Max wanted me to make sure you have your tektite crystal on at all times.”
“Yes,” I said, patting it with my glove. “I haven’t taken it off since he gave it to me.”
She pulled another leather necklace out of her coat pocket and said, “Max says put this one on too. You’ve worked up to it, wearing the first for more than twenty-four hours now, and my brother’s research suggests that alien abductions increase near rivers. So you will benefit from extra protection, according to Max.”
I took the extra tektite crystal and dutifully put it around my neck. It was hard to do with winter gloves on, but I managed.
We stood there silently for a time.
Then Elizabeth said, “You probably think I’m insane, acting the way I did back there.”
“No,” I said.
“Yes.” She peered up at me from under her beautiful eyebrows, through her wispy curtain of brown hair that was now hanging down from within a homemade-looking purple knit hat.
I bit my bottom lip and shook my head.
We looked out over the river for what seemed like a half hour.
Finally, she said, “You may think this is a stupid sentimental explanation, but I used to keep rabbits when I was a little girl. My mom bought them to breed and sell, but the guy who sold them to us lied and we soon found out both of our rabbits were male. Mom quickly lost interest, like she always did, or was too lazy to find a female. She ignored them, began to pretend they didn’t exist, probably because her pride kept her embarrassed about being duped. So I made the neglected rabbits into pets and loved them. Adored them. Talked to them. Even stole food for them from a nearby farm. Told them my secrets, whispering into their long, velvety ears for hours and hours.”
I didn’t know what to say, even though this obviously explained why she threw up.
It made me feel so sad.
“Max never loved them as much as I did,” she said, and began to walk along the river.
I nodded and followed.
“Are you ever going to talk?” Elizabeth said.
“Yes.”
“Say something.”
“Something.”
“Not funny.”