our own mother, you know, so that meant she would be the Petrenko woman that would survive. I’d be researching treatment strategies and she would ask me in her reedy voice, ‘What have you found, Claire? What new vitamins should I try?’”
Nicole stood with her bat on her shoulder with her head turned away, but she saw nothing in front of her, nothing at all.
“In the end, I realized that me holed up in a Siamese temple eating pea pods wasn’t going to change anybody’s suffering. Melana’s suffering was long over, and walking the Middle Path sure didn’t seem to be helping mine. I just couldn’t accept the idea that happiness and suffering are nothing more than states of mind. I just didn’t believe the idea that if I could control my mind, then I could be happy.”
For Nicole, the world went a little mute, as if someone had tossed a thick blanket over the barks of the carnies, the sizzling grill of a hamburger stand, the clanging bells of an arcade win, and the tinny music of a nearby carousel.
If you can control your mind, then you could be happy.
Her mind drifted to Noah in his residential facility, sitting in circles with other sufferers, seeking patterns, mulling over the loops and twists of his broken thoughts, the swell and surge of his unruly emotions. Like Claire once had been, Noah was tucked away from the world. But unlike Claire, Noah had all the strength of Western medicine to teach him ways to control his mind. He had skilled doctors leading him through therapy; he had experienced professionals offering him new tools to deal with the stresses of life.
He wouldn’t quit as Claire did. He couldn’t quit.
She wouldn’t let him quit.
“Anyway,” Claire said, “what I’m standing here chewing off your ear to say is that you don’t have to worry about me quitting. My diagnosis was like Karma holding a bullhorn to my ear. No more second chances.”
* * *
It was Nicole’s turn to drive again, so she slipped into the driver’s seat of Jenna’s car and put on her sunglasses. Her stomach sloshed with blue slushy and the grease of a funnel cake, well mixed after a group ride on the Tilt-a-Whirl. She was sure to regret that later, but for now she was determined to get them back on Interstate 90 to Minnesota without glancing in the rearview mirror for imaginary tornados. In her mind, she’d already hopped and skipped forward to the sight of the spires of Chicago and the lights of Wrigley Field.
A day or two at the most, and she’d be back on her college stomping grounds.
“Hey,” Claire said, tossing her Stetson at her feet, “do you guys ever wonder what happened to Theresa?”
Uh-oh . Nicole plunged the key into the ignition. “I assume you’re talking about Three-Tat Tess, yes?”
Claire said, “She’s probably Ten-Tat Tess by now.”
“All I remember is that she tooled around at community college for a while.” Nicole stretched her arm across the back of Claire’s seat then was speared by the beady black stare of a three-foot purple bear. “Hey, Jenna, are you sure you want to ride beside that thing? There’s still room in the trunk.”
“I like it here.” Jenna pressed up against it. Lucky, cowering on Jenna’s other side, gave a little whine. “It’s like a mascot, sharing the road with us.”
“Okay then.” Nicole eased out of the parking spot. “Anyway, after college as far as I know, Theresa pretty much fell off the face of the earth.”
“I had Theresa’s old e-mail.” Claire reached across the dashboard to flick on the air-conditioning. “But it bounced when my sisters tried to add it to the blog.”
Nicole ventured, “So what got you thinking about our rebel classmate?”
“Maya mentioned her the other night over the campfire, remember?”
Nicole straightened the car and headed for the fairground exit. “Let me guess. She lives just a few miles from here.”
“I wasn’t going to say that at all.” Claire gave her an eye while
Nicole stood with her bat on her shoulder with her head turned away, but she saw nothing in front of her, nothing at all.
“In the end, I realized that me holed up in a Siamese temple eating pea pods wasn’t going to change anybody’s suffering. Melana’s suffering was long over, and walking the Middle Path sure didn’t seem to be helping mine. I just couldn’t accept the idea that happiness and suffering are nothing more than states of mind. I just didn’t believe the idea that if I could control my mind, then I could be happy.”
For Nicole, the world went a little mute, as if someone had tossed a thick blanket over the barks of the carnies, the sizzling grill of a hamburger stand, the clanging bells of an arcade win, and the tinny music of a nearby carousel.
If you can control your mind, then you could be happy.
Her mind drifted to Noah in his residential facility, sitting in circles with other sufferers, seeking patterns, mulling over the loops and twists of his broken thoughts, the swell and surge of his unruly emotions. Like Claire once had been, Noah was tucked away from the world. But unlike Claire, Noah had all the strength of Western medicine to teach him ways to control his mind. He had skilled doctors leading him through therapy; he had experienced professionals offering him new tools to deal with the stresses of life.
He wouldn’t quit as Claire did. He couldn’t quit.
She wouldn’t let him quit.
“Anyway,” Claire said, “what I’m standing here chewing off your ear to say is that you don’t have to worry about me quitting. My diagnosis was like Karma holding a bullhorn to my ear. No more second chances.”
* * *
It was Nicole’s turn to drive again, so she slipped into the driver’s seat of Jenna’s car and put on her sunglasses. Her stomach sloshed with blue slushy and the grease of a funnel cake, well mixed after a group ride on the Tilt-a-Whirl. She was sure to regret that later, but for now she was determined to get them back on Interstate 90 to Minnesota without glancing in the rearview mirror for imaginary tornados. In her mind, she’d already hopped and skipped forward to the sight of the spires of Chicago and the lights of Wrigley Field.
A day or two at the most, and she’d be back on her college stomping grounds.
“Hey,” Claire said, tossing her Stetson at her feet, “do you guys ever wonder what happened to Theresa?”
Uh-oh . Nicole plunged the key into the ignition. “I assume you’re talking about Three-Tat Tess, yes?”
Claire said, “She’s probably Ten-Tat Tess by now.”
“All I remember is that she tooled around at community college for a while.” Nicole stretched her arm across the back of Claire’s seat then was speared by the beady black stare of a three-foot purple bear. “Hey, Jenna, are you sure you want to ride beside that thing? There’s still room in the trunk.”
“I like it here.” Jenna pressed up against it. Lucky, cowering on Jenna’s other side, gave a little whine. “It’s like a mascot, sharing the road with us.”
“Okay then.” Nicole eased out of the parking spot. “Anyway, after college as far as I know, Theresa pretty much fell off the face of the earth.”
“I had Theresa’s old e-mail.” Claire reached across the dashboard to flick on the air-conditioning. “But it bounced when my sisters tried to add it to the blog.”
Nicole ventured, “So what got you thinking about our rebel classmate?”
“Maya mentioned her the other night over the campfire, remember?”
Nicole straightened the car and headed for the fairground exit. “Let me guess. She lives just a few miles from here.”
“I wasn’t going to say that at all.” Claire gave her an eye while
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