No part of Lena’s life is filtered out in the Garden. It all exists like a book with a thousand pages and you can thumb through the pages, onion skin thin, carefully and pick the one you want. Randomly, you will read the lines of the page you have turned and see if this is worth your while, skimming through, deliberating. If it is not, move on. If it’s good enough for a read, then set the book between the branches of the magnolia which work like those criss-cross holders for a prayer book. The magnolia is a sturdy tree and the branches are broad and they will easily hold the weight of the large volume on her life. Now, turn the pages. It is much easier, is it not? No, I agree Lena’s life is no page turner, but there are parts you might enjoy. You have reached hundred and fifty one? Ah, it’s the part of her life where she was invited to a lady’s house in a city where she was doing an apprenticeship with an architect for six months and she hardly knew any other than the people at work. That’s all she did, take the bus up and down and draft drawings for buildings that she never saw coming up. Later someone would take pictures of the finished interiors and she would experience a sense of déjà vu about the lighting diagrams and the electrical layouts she had done.
But back to the host – the lady was a friend of her parents and she felt obliged to call her to dinner. She lived in a big house but would not show Lena all the rooms in case she became envious of her wealth and luxurious lifestyle. There is no one else in the lady’s home that Lena can see, but the lady whispers to her that her fifteen year old daughter is studying for her exams on the floor above. The girl comes down the stairway and peeps at Lena, curious to see a new visitor, then shyly runs back up. Come and have your dinner, the lady tells Lena.
The dining room is dimly lit and the food is scant though the table is at least twelve feet long. It seats fifteen people and chandeliers hangs over two spots leaving their gauzy blur on the shiny top. I did not think you would eat a lot, says the lady, you don’t look like you would. But I get hungry alright Lena tells the lady but her host pretends not to hear. The lady brings a bowl of rice and a watery lentil soup, idle fare for a twenty something working woman. There are some boiled vegetables, carrots and beans with a garnish of mustard. She sets this on the side. Lena’s hunger vanishes, she picks at her food and the lady gleams triumphantly: see, I knew you would not eat much and if I had made anything more, it would have gone waste. Her meal is quickly over and the lady sets a glass of buttermilk as that is less expensive than a cup of yogurt. Lena gulps it down, eager to be done. The lady sighs and clears the table in less than five minutes. After all, it was not such a big fuss.
They move to the sitting room and the lady brightens up. Tell you what, she says, we are both women so we can do some woman kind of thing tonight. Are you interested? The lady asks her and Lena looks undecided, so far nothing has gone well. Here, the lady says, holding her arm and dragging her to the kitchen. It is a long kitchen, longer than the dining table almost like a corridor, from one end of the house to the other and rows of vessels are placed on the floor on display. It is neon lit, dull and uninviting. The lady takes the lid off a large steel vessel with a wide rim in which there are hundreds of little balls of dough, slightly larger than pea size. Lena looks inside, wondering about the lady’s plan. These have to be deep fried, say the host, but you see, I forgot to put salt in these! The lady slaps her head to indicate her carelessness and adds, I have to get the salt in.
Lena gets worried. Forgot to put salt in so many balls? She imagines the lady asking her to put sprinkles of salt in each ball and tries to think of an excuse. The one closest to the truth works best, she thinks and starts to say that she is getting late and has to go to work early the next day. The lady behaves as if Lena never said she had to go. Tell you what I had in mind for our activity tonight? The lady tells her that she will mix salt in the balls and make it one large ball of dough again. After that you and I can sit and make little round balls. The lady claps her hands with delight but Lena is filled with terror at the thought and starts to dissent. Oh, I would have loved to help you and I can see that this is such a meditative activity but I have to go. Just then the doorbell rings and the key turns and the boys come home. The lady has two sons and they come in and tell her that they are going out for a movie. You want to come along? They ask Lena and she answers, I should be going as I have to get up early tomorrow, but perhaps you could give me a ride home? And so she makes her exit while the lady looks at her with disapproval that she did not contribute to the making of the three hundred dough balls with salt. Good night, good night they wish each other and it is good bye from then to now.
By the time you have read this, the scent from the magnolia penetrates the garden and nothing else matters. You walk in the late evening and the words from the book start to blur. You remember the giant who told the princess to empty out the sea with a spoon. It seems an impossible task but in all honesty, we are not aware but we are doing that as we scoop through our lives.
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