Layers (29 page)

Daniel doesn’t knock but opens the unlocked door that leads to a cozy interior, to velvety, crimson, majestically patterned, wallpaper-covered walls. Indian oil lamps are scattered around; some hang from the ceiling, some are placed on furniture around the room. Soft, colorful saris are laid on two adjunct mocha sofas standing firmly on a dark wooden floor. The room gives the impression of a refined ashram, hippie chic. Again, the exact opposite of what I anticipated. Daniel and hippie don’t go hand in hand, at least not in my mind.

A tall, lean and graceful lady almost Daniel’s height walks toward us from a lengthy corridor; she has the most tranquil, gentle smile upon her lips. A jingling sound from the few bell anklets decorating her bare feet accompanies her movement. She’s simply dressed in jeans and a Boho linen blouse, yet still looks elegant. I stare at her, captivated by the serenity she emits. Approaching us, she appraises me with a silky hazel gaze, that same color as Daniel’s, though her eyes are different, inducing sheer peacefulness. They exchange caring, meaningful stares between them; the expression in Daniel’s look is of reverence, and it deeply touches my heart.

“Hayley.” She turns to look at me, my name is a soft melodic tune in her voice. “I’m Iris.”

“Hello, nice to meet you.” I smile and she hugs me tight in return, not a light hug but a full-hearted embrace that leaves me somewhat surprised. Stepping back she puts her hands on my cheeks, studying me carefully for a few lengthy moments. I can’t help but blush at the extensive attention. From the corner of my eye I can see Daniel’s lips lift up.

“You were right, my boy,” she says. “She is beautiful. Such delicate features,” she adds. “You have an angelic face,” she murmurs, keeping her grip and her stare on me for too long to feel comfortable.

“That’s my Hayley,” Daniel says, pride linking his voice.

My Hayley
 …
I can’t get enough of the sound of that
.

“Now, let go of her before she runs for the door,” Daniel jokes, sending a hand toward the small of my back, reassuring.

She smiles at him, then at me, and finally lets go.
If I could think of the one person unlikely to be my beloved psycho’s mom she would be the one.

“Sit by the table, I’ll bring the food,” she offers, her expression full of tender joy. Before turning on her heels she says, looking at Daniel, “Already in love, aren’t you, my boy?” She doesn’t wait for an answer but heads to where I suppose the kitchen would be. A flawless, tender smile crosses Daniel’s face as he stares fondly at her back, which is decorated by a long, thick, blond braid, till she disappears in the hallway.

“Scared yet?” he teases, nudging my shoulder.

I chuckle. “The last word I would use to describe your mother is scary. She’s different, I must say. Well, from you,” I add.

“Different? You mean all this spiritual, hippie mumbo-jumbo crap?”

“I mean calm and serene as opposed to wild and impulsive.” I grin at him when he pulls me closer, smacking my behind while planting a steamy kiss on my lips. I try to pull back for the sake of appropriate conduct. He doesn’t let go, but stays me with his tight grip on my waist. He kisses me yet more absorbedly; this time his hand finds its way under my white cotton dress.

“Daniel!” I scold to his mouth.

A jingling sound approaches. “Don’t worry, Hayley, I’m more than fine with some show of affection. As far as I’m concerned you kids can go to the next room and make sweet love,” Iris comments, coming back into the room holding a ceramic pot.

Oh my god.
Daniel releases me from his grip, biting his lip, subduing a broader smirk at my shock and my flushed cheeks.

“Hales, do you want to step into the next room to make sweet love to me?” He chuckles.

I choose to disregard him completely. I can literally feel the deepening of my blush.

“Maybe later, the food will get cold,” Iris mutters.

Please for the love of all that’s good in this world, let this be her sense of humor speaking
. Daniel laughs, taking pleasure at my discomfort, a little too much.

There is a tagine at the center of the table along with several savory-looking side dishes; the smell is of middle-eastern spices and herbs, with cumin and cinnamon scents dominating the air.

“Moroccan lamb tagine, I hope you like spicy,” Iris says to me. I nod in confirmation and she responds with a curve of her lips and a kind stare.

“Looks delicious, Iris.”

“You can eat it with your hands or with pita bread,” she suggests.

“Maybe next time at our annual tribal dinner,” Daniel jabs, slightly shaking his head.

Iris rewards him with a fond smile. I can’t help but notice the deep connection they have between them.
She holds the power to set him in a peaceful mood
.

“So, Hayley,” she addresses me as I put a spoonful of some tomatoes, parsley and onion salad on my plate. I turn to look at her, waiting for her to continue. “I feel like I already know everything there is to know about you.”

“How’s that?” I question, not so sure if I should be delighted or concerned.

“My boy usually doesn’t share too much information, I usually have to force it out of him, but lately he can’t stop talking about one subject: you.” Her kind smile widens. I turn my head to look at Daniel and he shrugs, highly engaged with his food.

“How is your new job?”

Oh, she did get a full briefing about me.
“I’m actually very pleased with it. It’s given me the opportunity to learn so many new things I’ve been keen to work on for a long time and I’m thrilled at the chance.”

“That’s priceless, to get to do something you’re passionate about.”

“I understand you are an artist. What kind of medium do you create?”

“I sketch and paint, everything from landscapes to portraits to abstract. I mostly use charcoal, though from time to time I go for oil,” she explains, her face illuminated; her love for what she does is clearly reflected by her deep smile and gleaming eyes. I can relate to the feeling; this is exactly how I feel about my illustrations.

“It would be nice to sketch you; you have such even, delicate features.”

I send her a timid smile, feeling slightly self-conscious.

“You should, I’ll buy it,” Daniel says casually, raising another forkful to his mouth.

“Aren’t you eating the tagine?” I ask Iris midway through dinner, after we’ve discussed her life in Baja and the fact that she doesn’t like visiting San Francisco and does it only to see Daniel.

“I’m a vegetarian,” she answers.

Figures you would be, and I believe it’s for all the right reasons. She has an aura of a saint.

It was only when Daniel left for college, she tells me later, that she finally fulfilled her long time desire to move to Baja. I ask her why she chose this specific town as her home and one of her first replies is a question of whether I have seen the place. I immediately understand what she means. She also speaks at length about how calm and secluded this place is. I’m surprised to learn that it was Daniel who originally introduced her to this paradise, taking her with him on one of his surfing trips. She also tells me about the artistic community; apparently there are more than a few artists that chose to live in this same charming town.

“You seem very happy here,” I say. She regards me with a warm smile, her eyes gleaming with content.

“I am, very much. I feel like I belong here, especially since I can do what I enjoy the most. I could not ask for more.” She shifts her pensive stare to the open window and back at me. “I am very happy,” she confirms.

Though her smile doesn’t change I sense that her feeling is deeper than happy. The lady in front of me seems blissful and whole. She then puts her delicate hand over mine and says in her melodic voice, “You just need to think hard about what and how much is really enough. Once you find that out, it’s what makes you live in sheer bliss. Till then, there are constant doubts.”

I think about her words of wisdom and couldn’t agree more. I look over to check Daniel’s reaction, expecting either an eye roll or some sort of ridicule in his expression; I am surprised to see that he seems thoughtful. Once he notices my staring his lips pull up at the side and he slowly nods in agreement. I reciprocate with a gentle smile at the profound acknowledgement that forms between us, one that goes beyond words.

I listen eagerly as Iris shares with me stories of Daniel’s childhood, of him being a reckless, restless and charismatic child.
Nothing has really changed
, I think, amused.

“I just hated the period when he became so introverted. You know, when Mike left.”

Mike, that’s his father’s name, and not “the coward who left us.”
I notice Daniel stiffen at my side. His jaw clenches, though his annoyance seems mild. I rest my hand on his thigh and caress it gently, trying to calm him down.

“Don’t start with that,” he warns in a low, stony voice.

“It is a part of who you are. It’s one of the elements that made you what you have become, Daniel. You can’t ignore that.” Iris’ tranquil demeanor is in complete contradiction to Daniel’s growing irritation. Choosing to disregard the warning emanating from her son’s glare, she continues, saying that Mike was just scared, and that’s what led him to act the way he did.

“When your family needs you the most you man up, not run away,” Daniel argues. “You should take care of those you love. You fight for them for god’s sake.”

“My love, you need to forgive and let go of your anger. He didn’t mean to harm us, that wasn’t his intention.” Her voice is almost begging when she seeks his gaze.

“Oh, he didn’t,” Daniel retaliates in utter disdain.

“He wasn’t mature enough, and was scared. He couldn’t take care of us. He was confused. A young, scared man who didn’t know how to deal with an illness.”

How can she be so forgiving?

“Stop with this holistic spiritual shit when it comes to him. For fuck’s sake, stop.” For the first time since we stepped into the house, Daniel is offensive toward his mother, then he shuts down completely. He doesn’t even respond to my squeeze of his hand under the table.

Alert level is up to red
. When I try to catch his eyes I notice that he is absorbed with pecking at his food, his stare impenetrable.

Trying to divert the conversation, I ask Iris about her miraculous recovery from cancer. She explains about the experimental treatments she went through, which eventually led to fully curing the specific type of cancer she suffered from. I learn that Daniel was frequently moved between the homes of friends and family when she was away for treatment or wasn’t able to take care of him by herself, which was for a couple of years when he was still in elementary school. The thought of him growing up that way cuts me deep inside.

As the minutes pass Daniel gains composure and joins the conversation again, holding my hand, occasionally planting a kiss on my neck, cheek or mouth.

The cheerful tune coming from Daniel’s phone draws our attention.

“On a Saturday night?” Iris comments, wrinkling her nose.

I relate to what lies behind her words.
Does he ever really disconnect? Do they ever let him disconnect?

Seeing the name on the screen, Daniel’s expression turns bothered.

“Chris,” he answers, somewhat wearily. Not waiting for a reply he adds, “How severe is it this time?”

His jaw works under the tight skin of his face as he listens for a while. “So help me,” he breathes in a frustrated sigh, “if we don’t pull this one through and make the deadline I am replacing your entire department. And where is Rob for fuck’s sake?” His forehead creases.

“What do you mean he’s not available? Isn’t he there with his team? Has anyone tried to save this yet, besides me?” Complete fury veils his already annoyed face, and he starts walking to the next room. Halting for a brief moment he nods, signaling me, gesturing toward the room.

This is new and welcomed.
Not long ago he would have just walked away, indifferent to whether I was there or not. Deep in my own thoughts, I’m distracted by the snap of a camera.
Where did that come from?
Iris beams at me behind a Polaroid, waving a photo through the air waiting for it to dry.

“Here, look how beautiful you are,” she says, showing me a glimpse of the photo. “The expression in your eyes when you look at him.” She hands me the photograph, appearing pleased with her observation. When I look at it closely, I have to agree with her. My eyes are tender and gleaming, my face relaxed, and there is a still, small smile over my lips. My overall appearance is of pure adoration.
Wow, it does reflect my emotions precisely. I guess it’s true what they say about a picture being worth a thousand words.

“I love him.” I put into words my interpretation of the picture.

“I can see that. He loves you too, you know. I couldn’t be happier that he found you. I am so glad for you two.” Iris beams at me. “Make sure to hold on to him even when it gets rough. Don’t give up on him even when you feel you should.” I turn to ask her to elaborate further but it seems as though her thoughts are elsewhere and I refrain from disturbing her.

As I look in the direction Daniel left, I think about how deep my feelings are for him. Absurd as it is, I even miss him when he’s in the next room.

“Go, calm him down,” Iris coaxes in her quiet, pleasing tone, a small smile on her lips. I glance at the leftovers from dinner.

“Go Hayley, I’ll clean up here, just go,” she says.

I hesitantly open the door to what I guess is Iris’ studio: a narrow room, with bare walls and wide windows. Several coal sketches are standing on the floor, leaning against the walls. In the middle of the room are two large easels, one with a blank canvas and the other with an unfinished sketch of a cluster of grapes.

Daniel sits in the corner across from me on the granite floor, his back against the wall, his legs bent and parted. He rubs a finger on the floor beside him, looking preoccupied. While still on the phone, he tilts his head to look up and, seeing me, he raises his eyebrows questioningly.