Love & The Goddess (4 page)

T
en days later, after a morning spent shopping for household essentials, I drove out along the coast road to Salthill, taking a right up
Taylor’s Hill. My apartment was in a restored former convent, elegant and stone-faced; set back off the road, it overlooked the promenade like an elderly aunt.

Pulling into the hidden car park behind the building, I found James, my friend and colleague, had got there before me. He was leaning against his ancient blue Aston Martin, the back window of
which was piled high with last year’s lecture notes and tattered cookery books. As I got out, he came towards me, put his arms around me and hugged me close. I reached up on my tip toes into
his reassuring embrace. At least I still had one man in my life. Gulls squawked overhead and the westerly breeze carried the scent of seaweed from the beach.

“How are you?” He relieved me of my shopping bag.

“So-so.” I balanced my right hand like a weighing scales. “It’s still a bit of a muddle.”

“Of course it is, but I have every faith in you building a wonderful new life for yourself.” He sounded very British. His eyes scanned the house with its tiered terraces and domed
Mansard roof. “I have to hand it to you, this is some building.”

“It was an old convent, developed during the boom.” I squeezed his arm. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Delighted, my dear. But you do realise now you’re living so close, you may never get rid of me?” He paused to exclaim over the fanlight and ornate stonework, as I turned the
key in the double glass doors. On the far side of the hexagonal atrium, floored in mosaic tiles, was another door of heavy mahogany which led into the entrance hall. James opened it for me, with a
flourish. His nose twitched as the scent of cooking greeted us. “Cloves. Someone’s baking apple tart. How delightful – you live in a communal kitchen.”

I laughed. “That’s apartment living for you. Somebody on the first floor cooked a powerful curry last night.” I glanced up at the ornate glass roof, shielding my eyes from the
sunshine flooding down. Rows of heavy dark-stained doors surrounded by bevelled wooden architraves formed part of a continuous curved wall, cleverly devoid of sharp corners. I led the way down the
blue-carpeted stairway to the lower ground floor. James followed, stroking the polished mahogany balustrade of the staircase which snaked around all four floors like one huge serpent. “The
Church didn’t spare any expense.”

“Seems not. We bought the apartment from a developer before prices went sky high in the boom years, but we’ve had problems renting it lately – a sign of the times.” I
turned the key in number two. The entire apartment was drenched in light, pouring in through the large casement windows, their shutters opened wide. I stepped over a CD player on my way into the
living room. “Mind you don’t trip over any of the crates.”

He wasn’t listening – oohing and aahing, he was taking in the high ceilings, wooden floors and original wainscoting. The day before I had scoured the local Oxfam shop for a patterned
floor rug and two throws to cover the sorry-looking sofa. In shades of sapphire, amethyst and jade, they co-coordinated well with a curved Tibetan wall unit and the teardrop central light which
tinkled like an earring in the breeze. I’d stumbled over the cabinet in an auction room and fallen in love with it immediately.

“This is a good move for you, Kate. I feel like I’m in Ali Baba’s den.” James threw himself down on the sofa, his camouflage jacket clashing wildly with the throw.

“I’ve always loved tales of the Arabian Knights,” I said.

He pushed back a length of light brown hair as he looked approvingly around the room. His green eyes were set wide on either side of a slightly crooked nose, broken during his binge-drinking
years. It was eleven years since he’d quit and entered a twelve-step program. He raised one quizzical eyebrow at the wooden figure sitting on one of two deep window sills. “Is that the
carving from that Indian reservation you’re always on about? Who is he?”

“Kokopelli. He plays his magic flute, which stands for creativity. Maybe he’ll inspire me to finally write the cookery book I’ve always been promising to start. God knows,
I’ve invented enough recipes to fill ten books. You have too. We could do one together.”

“I should have known who he was – I’m the one heading off on a Shamanic trip. I could do with some inspiration to get my creative mojo back, but I’ll leave the writing
side of things to you. Here…” He pulled a book out of his jacket and handed it to me.

I studied the well-worn cover, stifled a half laugh. “
When Things Fall Apart
… a depressing yet appropriate title.”

“It got me through some tough times, Kate. The woman who wrote it got her life together after her husband left her. Do you know the Chinese word for crisis also means
opportunity?”

“I could have done without this opportunity, thank you very much.”

“Don’t be cynical, Kate. It’s a positive way of looking at your situation. Think of it as an opportunity for self discovery. Speaking of which, I see you’ve finally found
the guts to bring out that picture you like so much.” He nodded at the Goddess propped against the wall. He had been with me on the day that I’d bought it.

“I know. Who’d have thought it would spend five years hiding in the back of a cupboard? I’ll have to get you to hang it up for me.”

“I won’t do a single thing for you until you promise me you’ll join me in Peru. You were full of excuses before. Now your time is your own.”

I smiled a wry, sad smile, “You’re right. For the first time in my life I can do whatever I want. When will you be there?”

“I’ll have finished my three-week stint cheffing in Club Med Mexico by the end of July. We could meet up in Cusco early August.”

I nodded slowly.
Cusco.
It sounded fabulous. But it was a big step heading off on my own – even if I was meeting James. “I know there’s nothing to stop me. Just give me
some more time.” A grin twitched at the sides of my mouth. “Do you think I could possibly meet a straight version of you?”

James rolled his eyes, then turned serious. “Kate, don’t make the mistake of thinking you need a man right now. Learn to love yourself first. When you’re vulnerable
you’ll attract the wrong type. I know you’re feeling rejected and wounded. But a man won’t fix you.”

“God, you’d certainly know you were into ‘working through your crap’ as you call it. Why do I bother paying a shrink for advice when I can get the same spiel from you for
free?”

“Because he’s a professional and I’m not. I just work my own process. Anyway someone close to you doesn’t always offer the best advice.” He struggled forwards on
the soft sofa. “I’ve got to head off, but now I know where you are I’ll come back to help with the rest of the unpacking. Are you all right for groceries?”

“I can manage with beans on toast for now. I’m pretty exhausted. I think I’ll chill out in front of the television.” And I hugged him goodbye.

Yet “chilling out” proved impossible. Anxiety was something I’d never been able to conquer. After a sleepless night in the grip of a demon, the first thing I
did was book an appointment with my psychotherapist – the one Trevor insisted spouted a load of rubbish.

“At long last.” Aidan Whyte made an exaggerated gesture of joining his hands together as though going into prayer, bowing his head. What was he suggesting? I wasn’t in the mood
for complex mind games. Without meaning to, I lashed out.

“I’m here to be consoled! Not mocked!”

He ushered me inside his consulting room before he replied, nodding to the receptionist who sat filing her nails. “Kate, you’ve been coming for counselling on and off for many years.
Trying to put sticking plaster on a marriage problem way bigger than the sum of its wounds. This may seem …”

“What are you talking about?” I leaned forward to stare at his round face, his thin spectacles sliding down his upturned nose. Judging by the amount of laughter lines on his
thirty-something face, it struck me that he must find the business of other people’s problems quite amusing. I’d have thought it would depress the life out of most people, yet here he
was dressed in a cheerful blue chambray shirt, cream trousers and matching sneakers, looking like he existed on a diet of positive thinking.

“Kate, you’ve been in denial. You never wanted to look at the state of your marriage. You wanted to believe you would wake up one day and everything would be hunky dory. Trevor would
never agree to join you for counselling, yet you thought you could fix it all by yourself.”

I couldn’t keep the amazement out of my voice. “You really thought that and never told me? What was I paying you for?”

“I tried to get you to see it. He never wanted you to be a woman in your own power. He always had to be in control. This may seem like a crisis to you now, but believe me when I say it is
your greatest opportunity for personal growth.”

“Yeah, right. James gave me that line too. He even gave me that book by Pema Chodron.” I rolled my eyes heavenwards.

“Great book, that. I was going to recommend it to you. And yes, your friend can see that you’re a woman capable of grasping life – in a way you never felt free to do within the
confines of your marriage.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I certainly don’t feel that way. I’m forty-four, I’ve got a twenty-year-old daughter, and my husband’s run off with another
woman.” I wrapped my multicoloured cardigan tight around me. “My marriage meant everything to me. I don’t know how I’ll survive without Trevor. I married him when I was
twenty-one.”

“And you’ve never had time to find out who you are. Now’s your time.” He held his hands out, beaming as though he were handing me Aladdin’s magic lamp. If only he
could have done.

“But I’m nobody without him. I thought I was, but these last couple of weeks have been horrendous. People I thought were friends avoiding me, like rats leaving a sinking ship.
Trevor’s friends and their wives have passed me by in their cars, pretending I’m invisible.”

“So what’s your problem? Most of those women never had an independent career. They rely on their husband for whatever status they think society affords them. Some may be clinging on
to the last vestiges of a dying relationship. If that’s the case they don’t need you to remind them of that. Anyway, you’ve always been well able to put social climbers in their
box. Am I right?”

“Suppose.” I shrugged my shoulders.

“There are others, like the old woman you mentioned, who think well of you. If you constantly seek the good opinion of others you give away your personal power. Now you are starting a new
life in the city, so leave the past where it belongs.”

He was right. I knew deep down he was absolutely right. I looked at the emerald on my left ring finger and began frantically polishing it with the edge of my cardigan. It was all so much to take
in. It wasn’t just the end of a relationship, it was the end of my whole life as it had been. I was realising that now, and I needed to move on.

“It’s just such a shock to be suddenly shunned after having socialised with these people all my life. People I had thought were friends. I feel like I’ve become my worst
nightmare – the shunned single mother, all alone with nobody to love me.”

“Start by loving yourself, Kate. Essentially we’re all alone and it’s good if you can learn to live with that for a while and get to enjoy your own company. What you had with
Trevor was a co-dependent relationship.” He leaned forward, slightly bridging the divide between us. Feeling uncomfortable I crossed my legs and in the process swivelled my chair towards the
door. “Neither of you knew where one began and the other finished. Eventually that becomes claustrophobic. You told me so yourself. He constantly told you what to do and where to go. When he
could no longer do that he found someone else he could control. Am I right?”

“I don’t know,” I said, biting my lip. Whatever the reality might be, I wasn’t ready to accept it. My gaze once again dropped to my ring, as I found myself fidgeting with
it. I couldn’t forget the good times, they lingered in my head like a soothing nostalgic scent – and they had been good. Once. “In all my years with Trevor I never met anyone as
gentlemanly as him.”

“A self-individuated woman does not need a man to validate her. Why are you so hung up on having a knight in shining armour?”

“I don’t know.” I frowned and looked sideways, avoiding his eyes, still fidgeting.

“Maybe I’ve always believed in a happily-ever-after. I didn’t date many men before Trevor. In fact the only lasting relationship I had was with the boy next door, and
that’s because Billy was the nearest thing I had to a brother. Trevor was my first real romance and I thought we were perfect for each other.” I paused. “It’s so hard to
accept that it couldn’t last forever.”

“I know, Kate. But nothing in life lasts forever. And remember bad things fall apart so that better things can be created. Learn to embrace being on your own and start by being gentle and
loving with yourself. And as I’ve said already, start approving of yourself and forget about seeking external validation from a man or anyone else.” He raised one eyebrow, before
asking, “Do you intend wearing the emerald ring going forward?”