Just Like Heaven

Chapter Seven

We talked of many things; where I lived and which school I went to and if I enjoyed my studies. After dinner – or breakfast or whatever that was – I got up to leave when I realized it was now eight o’clock and already dark outside. This was the latest I had been out on my own. Or better say, latest which my mother knew of; it was a habit of mine to sneak out of my bedroom’s window in the middle of the night. It made me feel alive to walk alone through the dark when the world was asleep. Because when it was the only time that I was alone, but not lonely.

     “Thank you for having me, Mr. Smith,” I shook his hand politely as we were standing inside their living room.

     “Of course, Son,” he smiled at me genuinely. “You’ll always be welcome here, at any time. We’ll always have pancakes.” He winked at me, making me laugh.

      “I’ll walk you to the door,” Adam suggested and so I nodded gratefully, waving one last time at Mr. Smith before following Adam away.

      He opened the house’s door for me and I stepped outside after bidding him goodbye. But I stopped on the spot after long seconds when Adam suddenly called after me before I could have walked too far away. When I turned around, I saw him pacing quickly after me right before I was about to pass the street.

     “Yes?” I said.

      “That – that book you were talking about,” he started, looking rather nervous, “the poems by Rumi… what is it called?”

     I felt a happy expression make its way through my face. I didn’t expect anyone would ever show the slightest sign of amusement in my words. “There are a few actually. But his most famous poetry book is called ‘Masnavi’. You can find it in local libraries, if you’re in luck.”

      “Masnavi…” He nodded in understanding, muttering a small, “Thanks.”

      “Anytime,” I whispered, turning on my heels to leave.

     “Oh, and Edwin?” I turned again to glance at him from over my shoulder. “What does it mean? Masnavi?”

      I smiled. “No idea.”

 That night, I took my time to walk back home instead of getting a taxi. It took me almost an hour, but I didn’t even notice the time. I felt better staying in that little kitchen eating pancakes at eight p.m. with people those two people whom I barely knew than I ever did spending my Saturday nights at fancy dinner parties.

     Although the moment I stepped before our house and was just about to ring the doorbell, I was dragged back to the real world, and so with a heavy sigh, I rang it and surrendered myself to my reality once again.

     After making up reasons as to why my tutoring session with Tommy had taken so long for my mother, I went back up to my room and laid down on my bed, letting my mind wonder away. And for the first time, I felt happy to have found a friend that I enjoyed his company.

The next week passed more miserably than any other, because I felt like time had stopped and the days were all endless. This usually happens when you’re looking forward to something. And this phenomenal always made me think whether we would feel like we’re living longer if we constantly await our death. But perhaps that would make life exhausting, and I’d rather enjoy my life, even if this enjoyment meant sitting in my room, reading a book, and listening to the rain outside.

     As for what I was desperately looking forward to that week; it was the excitement I felt as I awaited the Sunday church, probably for the first time in my life. I wanted to see Adam again. I didn’t know what I was going to say once I saw him; maybe tell him to thank his father for his hospitality that night, or talk about poetry, or ask him about music.

     But the clock seemed to have slowed down each time I looked at it in the middle of my classes. Tommy seemed to talk to me more freely and excitedly now, if that was even possible. Although I didn’t really mind it anymore and I had started to listen to his rambling more often now. I was surprised to realize that he was actually funnier that what I had given him credit for.

      But time seemed to have stopped completely that Friday when my parents and I were leaving to the Williams’ house for a dinner party. They were apparently planning on celebrating their daughter’s acceptance into Harvard. She was the same age as me and we went to the same school, yet we never talked even when we saw each other in the hallways, despite our families knowing each other and gathering together every once in a while.

     “Edwin, you’re wearing the tie. End of discussion,” said Mother firmly, and she meant it. It was always the end of discussion on my part once she had decided something; whether it was little stuff such as the clothes I wore, or big matters such as attending college at New York University and studying law.

      I wanted to persuade her that let me stay at home and not go to the party with them, but I didn’t even bother asking, knowing that she would win the argument by finally saying ‘end of discussion’.

     So I wore what she wanted me to wear and got in the car quietly and without complaining, knowing that there was no point doing otherwise. The ride to the Williams’ house took longer than it ever did, and all the while I tried to remind myself that the day after tomorrow was going to be a better day.

      We finally parked the car once we reached their house and got out. It was currently year 1961, yet my father’s style probably hadn’t changed since the 40s. Mother wore her clothes in 50s style, yet she liked to believe that she was up to date with the latest fashion.

      Although you couldn’t say the same for the William family. They wore clothes from the best boutiques in the whole New York. Mr. William’s grandfather had what people tended to call ‘old money’, but tragically lost most of his wealth through travelling all around the world and gambling, but even so, his grandchildren were still wealthier than many others now, living off their heritage happily and creating different businesses from what was left for them.

     So as I looked up at their house, I could see that it was only slightly bigger than ours, which was what made Mother so fond of them; she loved keeping company of those who were rather better than us. She used to say that this gives you motivation to grow yourself and your life.

      “Stand up straight, Edwin,” Mother whispered as she glanced at me sideways the moment we rang the doorbell and waited. I held back the urge to roll my eyes and just pulled back my shoulders.

     Seconds later, the door to the house opened and Williams’ maid beamed at us. “Welcome,” she said politely, stepping aside as a gesture for us to go in. “May I take that?!” She pointed at Mother’s handbag and so she nodded, giving it to the maid as we walked in.

      We walked into the enormous living room which was filled with around thirty people, all having a glass of champagne in their hands as they were conversing with one another.

     “Ah, Maria, darling!” Mrs. Williams exclaimed in her British accent, walking toward mother and placing one kiss on either side of her cheeks, before shaking hands with me and my father brightly. “Edwin, Diana is in the parlour, if you wanted to say hello.”

      By the meaningful look Mother gave me, I knew that I had to go say hello, even if I didn’t want to. “Right…” I nodded, walking away from my parents.

      People around the room were talking of many things as I passed them by, none of which I could care enough about to stay and listen. But at last, I found Diana, conversing with two of her parents’ friends who were congratulating her.

      Diana had light brown hair and hazel eyes, and perhaps she had inherited her mother’s good looks, from what the boys at our school called it. But what I admired about her was that she cared more about her goals and work than what other people thought of her. Although Mother’s reasons of liking her was different than the rest; it was Diana’s good lineal that she approved of.

     “Hello, Diana,” I approached her at last when the couple had walked away and she was alone.

      “Edwin! Hi!” she smiled up at me. “I’m glad you could make it. We haven’t been talking a lot lately at school. I missed you.”

     “Yeah… me too…” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “And congratulations on… er… the Harvard thing.” 

     She chuckled at my lack of social skills. “Thank you. And you’ve got into New York University’s law major, haven’t you? That’s amazing!”

     “Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged unsurely. “But I don’t think it’s nearly as exciting as… psychology, was it?”

      “Experimental psychology, yes.” She nodded brightly. “I like to know how a human’s mind works. I think it’s quite fascinating, don’t you?”

      “Maybe, but to know how their hearts and souls work is the real mystery.”

     I regretted saying the words the moment they left my mouth. It made me seem sensitive, and as much as I didn’t mind being that way, I wasn’t sure if others would feel the same. But Diana caught me off guard when she gave me a warm smile; one that I could believe.

     “Oh, Edwin… always the poet.” She giggled. “Why didn’t you choose Literature as a major, instead of Law? I feel like you would’ve been great at it. I mean, you are the top of our English class. Always have been.”

      “I don’t know…” I shrugged, sighing. “I guess it’s because studying Literature doesn’t have the same secure future as becoming a lawyer or a doctor. My parents’ words, not mine.”

     “Well, is it really a secure future if it’s not something that you like?”

     I grinned at her playfully. “Look at you, already speaking like a psychologist.”

     “Why, thank you.” She bowed at me jokingly, making me laugh.

      For dinner, we all went outside to the William’s rather large backyard, where a long table consisting twenty-eight seats were set. We took our places and the waiters served the food and poured us a wine of our own choice. Whenever the glasses emptied, they would pour some more.

     The men around the table were talking of politics, which was a subject I always found myself bored in the midst of. They were discussing the new presidential election and I was honestly finding the peas I my food even more interesting than that.

      But my head snapped up when someone suddenly said, “What say you, Edwin?”

     I glanced up from my plate, seeing that everyone was looking at my direction, waiting for me to say something in silence. My father being a successful lawyer, he was well-known for his skill in speeches and speaking skills. When he opened his mouth to talk, he had the power to make everyone in the room go quiet and to pay him attention without even trying or raising his voice. Perhaps it was the way he confidently held his head up high, or maybe it was something in his firm tone or even the words that he used and the way he phrased things. Whatever it was, everyone expected the same from me. But I was not my father. I could’ve never been anything like him.

     “Well, Edwin?” Mr. Williams repeated himself.

     “Er…” I tried to say something, but I couldn’t even remember what they were talking about. Both my parents were now looking at me expectantly.

     “Personally,” Diana started, bringing everyone’s attention to herself, “I think that John Kennedy will be chosen. He may be the youngest president to be elected yet, but he sure seems to know what he’s doing. He speaks of peace and civil rights, and that’s what our people need the most at the moment.”

     “And since when do girls have political opinions?” said Andrew Williams in a mocking manner, and two others sniggered at his remark.

     Andrew was Diana’s cousin. He was a blond boy, two years older than us by age, though he behaved like a seven-year-old boy. Andrew hadn’t attended college, but worked in his father’s company to carry on the family business.

     He used to go to the same school as us, but I never liked him or the people he hung around with, because they thought everyone should’ve worshiped the ground they walked on and beat up everyone who didn’t pay them respect; Tommy was their personal favourite punch bag. It was painful to watch them beat him, but there was nothing I could do, nor could anybody else.

     “Oh, girls always had their own opinion in politics,” said Diana wittily, “only they’ve been kept quiet for the last centuries by men. We weren’t even allowed to vote nationally until around 1920.”

    Perhaps that finally managed to silence Andrew, because he said nothing else on the matter over dinner. When I caught Diana’s eye, I mouthed a small ‘thank you’ that she had saved me from the embarrassment, and in return she winked at me, going back to eating her food.

     When the dinner party was finally over and we drove back home, I was already tired and certainly not in the mood to do my homework over the weekend. All I wanted to do was to grab a book and read for hours on end.

      “I like Diana,” said Mother as we got out of the car. “She’s a very confident girl.”

      “Yes.” Father nodded. “She would make a good lawyer, if she were a boy. It’s a pity.”

      “Perhaps. But I’m not sure if I agreed with the way she spoke of recent political events… it wasn’t too lady-like,” said Mother as we were walking toward our house. “Oh, Edwin, would you grab the mails?”

      Rolling my eyes behind her back, I walked back toward the yard as they threw the key in and went inside. I reached the mailbox and opened it up to a few letters, most of them being for Father’s work.

     I started walking back toward home as I shuffled through the letters to see whom they were from, but my eyes widened and I came to a halt when I saw a letter that was addressed to me.

      Putting the rest of the mails inside my coat’s inner pocket, I started opening the letter, my heart sinking at what I read inside.

Dear Ed, (Do you mind if I called you Ed?)

I went to the library today and got every book they had on Rumi and I found the answer to my question. ‘Masnavi’ means ‘The Spiritual Couplets’. He was a fascinating man, from what I gathered, don’t you think?

Adam Smith