The Sportin' Life by Nancy Frederick Page B

the princely sum offered? That was out of the question. It didn ’ t matter that I had a degree or had been doing the work of someone who made twice that. No. She informed me that the Vice President had no right to make that offer, and yes I could have the job, but not at that salary.
    Then I realized that even Vice Presidents had no power. If that were the case, and it was clear that it was, I knew there was no place for me in such an environment. What was the old joke? I ’ d rather have nothing than settle for less. There had to be another way. When I declined his offer and told him why, he asked me out, but I had a policy of not dating people at work, and so far there hadn ’ t been anyone attractive or tempting enough to seduce me into changing the rule.
    Oh, I had dates here and there — sometimes two or three with the same guy, but one of us would lose interest and we ’ d drift away before any real bonds were forged. Once I tumbled into bed with a friend, thinking it would be pleasant and good for both of us, and it would be nice to make love again after so long a spell of abstinence. Only it didn ’ t work. I was as numb emotionally and sexually as a patient under anesthesia. Instead of being alarmed or frightened by my lack of ardor, I was relieved. No emotion could take me prisoner if I felt no emotion.
    I stumbled along like that, day after miserable, dismal day, no hope, no pleasure, no peace, no redemption, and three years passed. I worked at dozens of places, occasionally receiving job offers, considering the offers, trying to take the offers, but not actually settling in anywhere. It seemed that I couldn ’ t sell out to save my soul.
    I knew that my destiny was out there, like a free floating phantasm, and somehow I needed to connect with it, but how? What was my destiny, and how could I circumvent the natural flow of time and enter the future, leaving the present to merge unlived with the past? I sought counsel from a number of professionals. First I went to Mr. Mason, the old man who ran the astrology book shop on Lexington . He did my chart and Kevin ’ s. “ He hates women, he hated his mother, ” said Mr. Mason about Kevin. How amazing, I thought, when Kevin had always spoken of his mother with such affection and respect. Surely Mr. Mason must be exaggerating. Then he looked at my chart and gave me lots of advice. I should work for myself, running a business that combines creativity and practicality, and then there would be a lot of money. Just have confidence. And consider moving to California .
    That was an exciting experience. Astrology was great. I learned a lot and was enthused about the bright future available to me, but was unclear about how to leap into that future and bypass the present. So I went to a number of psychics. Most of them told me the same thing — that I would make my fortune in my own business, but no one knew what kind of a business; they just saw lots of creative people around me.
    Finally I found a wonderful trance medium who helped me learn more about my reality and my future. I would travel and meet many people. Find my rock and develop it. What did that mean? I puzzled over this advice day after day.
    One day, while mulling over the advice yet another time, and walking along Fifth Avenue on my way home from work, I bumped into Sharon . I hadn ’ t seen her in years, not since before Kevin broke my heart and I retreated from life. “ Liana, ” she squealed, and crushed me in a hug. “ I can ’ t believe it ’ s you! ”
    We began to talk about everything. Sharon was still working at the mineral store and she insisted I come back with her until seven when she closed the store. Since Violet was going to be with her father that evening, I was free and went along. The store was quiet and Sharon had time to show me around, to explain the energies of the different rocks and to show off the few bits of jewelry they had featuring raw stones. I admired them all, and