Zoe

(Continuing)

 "Once we know that the entire physical world, all of creation, is both the hiding place and the revelation place for God, this world becomes home, safe, enchanted, offering grace to any who look deeply."

Father Richard Rohr

Everywhere was closed. Not even a coffee shop open. The rain beat down hard and so he thought to tuck under an awning for a moments shelter.

Back at his new apartment there were plenty of boxes still to be unpacked. He had set up his television and furniture for the living room so at least that was a comfortable space for the time being. Luckily for him he had always tried to avoid having extras, so he kept only what he ever needed when it came to basics, pots and pans, one set of sheets and a plaid blanket, again one of each necessity only for dishes and things. Simple and efficient.

The Wi-Fi in the new apartment (he'd signed a six month lease) was pretty sketchy and so he had counted on stopping in at the bakery downstairs pretty frequently to start and end his day. He loved waking up to the aroma of fresh bread being baked every morning. He would never have to think about breakfast. Just get ready and head downstairs and swing through the bakery for a black coffee and a muffin, this was going to be a nice convenience.

On his first few visits there he'd given himself a few minutes and picked out a nice bench seat by the window and after checking email decided to stay. He would sip his steaming French roast, smoke a few cigarettes and people watch between glimpses of the morning paper. He would also jot down a line or two if anything came to him naturally. A small spiral-bound notebook was what he kept in his coat pocket. Much of what came to be started there with a few chicken scratches of phrases, brief sketches of characters he wanted to develop, haiku, a few jokes and plays on words, the occasional deep thought, and always the questions.

In his first few days at his new morning station he had already taken in more of the world than he'd experienced in a long time, especially in terms of its cast of characters. He saw a man biking past wearing leopard printed sweatpants, and that was all. Others were bundled up more appropriately in their winter garb. He saw the occasional fur coat, a few kids with blue and green hair, small groups of tourists, and an elderly Asian woman with a terrified scowl on her face and a few with cardboard signs that read SPARE CHANGE or FIVE DOLLARS WINDOW WASH. One man sat beside a garbage can near the corner so he could check quickly if he saw anything he liked being tossed in. Snatch it up quick. Five second rule.

Do you write for the church or do you write for yourself? someone had asked him. The felt sense of the words upon his face pressed abruptly like that of a hand smooshing the face into a circular bundle of wrinkles then springing the hand back quickly away. What?!… Please keep such silliness away from me, if you please, he thought. I learned a long time ago to stay away from conversations like these… You see it returns one to a divided world and asserts its lesser construct as it projects it out into the ether more like a net than a mere question. Certain kinds of questions carry with them entire worlds that one must accept if they are to respond in any congenial manner. It's just awkward. People ask questions that make sense in their worlds. False worlds, false choices.

He sat drinking his coffee remembering that day when that simple question had met him so adversely. The person, no doubt, was only trying to find out if he was writing spiritual meditations, nonfiction essays or who knows what…? It felt like oppression to him back then, because back then he lived in that world, where everything was an oppression or something that would lead to one if you weren't careful. But he never judged himself too harshly, or anyone else for that matter. Not after what he had been through and what he knew so many people had to deal with day-to-day. He had learned a true love of human beings. He was proud of the fact that it was genuine now most days when, let's face it, just like anyone else there were so many times where he would have just as happily put himself into a car and driven away to no place USA.

Agent in place. That's what he was now. Instead, that would be the result. That's how it ended up. But we can talk about that after while.

Now with all the restaurants closing, even the bakery downstairs, he, like everyone else, was going to have to keep adapting. Everything would reopen again soon and he figured it wasn't too bad out on the patio where he now took his morning coffee, able there to capture some decent Wi-Fi.

He brought a cat home with him one day from the humane's society. It was a Burmese in all shades of brown. Brown into deeper brown, he thought of milk chocolate and dark chocolate. The creatures fur was like velvet and its eyes sparkled golden with stirring deep fire at their centers. When he saw her, he was utterly enchanted. He named her Zoe.

At first it felt strange to share space with the small creature. Every now and again, after she was done investigating one of the rooms, she would return to him; walking up to him, sitting herself down quietly and staring directly at him as though learning something in the process. She had intentions she was meeting in her gaze, he knew it. Later on as he thumbed through his notebook, with its sketches of Indian teepees and a man sitting out on a snowy lake icefishing, the velvet Burmese pressed up against his shoulder and neck. He jotted another note in the spiral to get cat food. For now she would have to be satisfied with leftover salmon from the fresh glacial rivers of northern Alaska. Without any restaurants now open he had treated himself at the mom-and-pop grocery down the street. Great leftovers, he thought. One lucky cat.

That night he went to sleep with the creature purring quietly against his legs and feet. He dreamt of a jungle in Africa and of a daylong journey through the stifling heat where he whacked away vigorously with a razor-sharp machete to fight his way forward. He chopped away feeling a tremendous exhaustion and thirst along with a sense that only a few more feet would bring him to a space to stop and rest, to find a falls and fresh source of water.

The dream turned quickly to an open space beyond the stifling tangles of weeds and dense forest growth to where the star filled sky's opened up holding out the sparkling constellations now surrounding him. There a large fire was burning. Through the flames which were so bright they caused his eyes to twitch he saw her looking back at him. Straight through the flames as if penetrating his soul were two smoldering eyes. They were Zoe's.