The Compass (7 page)

Chapter 8
 

The first month of summer had come and gone and nearly half of the fence was out. The work had seemed so hard at first, that fence fighting Rudy like a warrior. He didn’t know if he was getting stronger or just used to the job, but things seemed a bit easier. He was getting along with everyone better now too, although that Jacob was one tough old guy. On this particular day, Rudy showed up to find Jacob waiting for him.

“You have a reprieve today, my young Goliath. Yoshito needs some assistance with a new project in his garden. Do you think you are up for a bit of a change today?” Jacob asked.

“Sure, not a problem,” Rudy said, grateful to have something new to do. Pulling out that fence was strenuous work, and he was sure this new project would be too if they needed his help, but at least it was something different.

“Very good. Maybe if you are lucky, you will hear Yoshito’s plants talking up a storm,” Jacob replied straight-faced but in good humor.

“Go ahead and go over to his house. Maybe I’ll be by later, or maybe just see you tomorrow. We’ll see how this old body feels as the day goes along.” Jacob waved Rudy off with his hand.

“Okay. See ya, Jacob,” Rudy said as he walked down the driveway, not yet wanting to climb over the drooping fence through Frederick’s yard to Yoshito’s.

Heading toward the street, he realized as he did nearly every day that he left Jacob’s, what a difference there was between the drab street scene as compared to the life, greenery, and color in these three backyards. He looked more closely at the homes now, with new eyes. Mostly clean, but a bit run down; the paint was chipping off some, new roofs were needed on others that could not be afforded, metal screen doors needed to protect the inside from the outside. Then there was the house with the cars on the lawn. Everyone in the neighborhood knew it was a crack house, even the police knew—they were there often enough—yet nothing seemed to change. The people going in and out were not people you’d want to cross. He lived up around the corner and knew his mother hated her small house that needed more repairs than they had money.

Funny, but Rudy felt freer being outside than he had before he started to work in the garden. He felt privileged in a way—like he was in on a secret. He’d told his mama that the backyard was unbelievable, beautiful beyond what could be imagined. Unless you had been in it, smelled the air, heard the birds, seen the color and the abundance, he didn’t think she could comprehend the beauty hidden behind those three nondescript houses.

Rudy had even come to love the feel of mulched soil running through his fingers. He was learning a lot too. Before this summer, he would not have known the difference between a perennial and an annual. He never knew some flowers grew from a bulb, and he certainly could have never imagined how much he would enjoy watching vegetables grow. Sometimes Frederick would call him away from the fence to assist in preparing a bed for a new vegetable, feeding ones already on their way to maturity, or tying up tomato or bean plants that were getting big and gangly and having a mind of their own. It was actually fun.

Still, Rudy had said nothing to his friends about it. They knew he had a summer job during the day that his mama had fixed up through church, but they had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t want them to know, didn’t want them putting down Jacob, Frederick, and Yoshito, and didn’t want them making fun of him. Truthfully, he rarely saw them anymore; they had lost their appeal. Rudy was beginning to understand that they were narrow-minded and their beliefs too closely resembled those of the people that killed Frederick’s daddy. He saw that more clearly now that he had been away from them working for Jacob. If they asked him to go out at night, maybe pull another shoplift, he just told them he couldn’t; he said he had to get up early or his mama needed him for something. Rudy was sure that they were saying bad things about him, but it didn’t seem to matter as much as it used to—he just wasn’t interested in that kind of trouble anymore, kind of like Frederick’s daddy. He liked imagining himself like Frederick’s daddy; maybe because he didn’t have a father of his own, or maybe he was just growing up. Even Jacob, Frederick, and Yoshito had turned out to be nicer—cooler—than he thought they would be. Jacob was a bit more aloof, but each of them treated him like he was special, like they had all come to like him. They treated him like he was one of them, and he liked it. It was a funny turn of events, but he couldn’t spend any more time wondering about it.

As Rudy walked up Yoshito’s drive and entered his backyard, he could now see up close what he had only seen from Jacob’s backyard two doors away. Yoshito’s garden had an entirely different feel than Jacob’s. Both were wonderful, but Yoshito’s felt almost like going into a church. It was very peaceful and quiet, very shaded, the prominent sound coming from water running through bamboo into a hollowed-out stone spilling into small pebbles underneath. Around the stone basin, there were lush, low trees and ferns of every variety. At an elevated level farther back, Rudy saw some kind of gazebo. He wondered what it was for.

The back screen door slammed behind Yoshito as he came out of the house and walked over to where Rudy stood. Rudy wondered if his mother would scold Yoshito as she did him.

A gray and white stocky cat followed Yoshito and then cautiously approached Rudy to sniff his pant leg and investigate this new visitor. Rudy stood still, and as the cat deemed him safe, began to rub against his jeans, moving in figure eights in and out between his legs. “Hey boy,” Rudy said gently as he bent over to pet what was becoming a new friend. In response, the cat purred loudly, arching his back to meet Rudy’s hand.

“Rudy, this is Ling; Ling, this is Rudy,” Yoshito said smiling, enjoying watching a new softness flow out of Rudy. “Ling has a very keen sense of people. He must find your spirit to be a gentle one.”

Rudy smiled and stood, enjoying being described as gentle. “This is the first time I’ve seen your garden up close. It’s so peaceful and restful, really beautiful.”

“Thank you. It is in this space that I let go of the worries of this world and where I dream of the next. You are too young to think of such things yet, but as you get older, you begin to wonder about the place where you will spend eternity.” He smiled at Rudy and then continued. “Let me give you a tour before we give ourselves over to our project for the day.” Rudy followed Yoshito down the path toward the flowing water.

“You will find that while my garden is harmonious with Frederick’s and Jacob’s gardens, it has certain elements from my culture that you will not find in the others. First, you will notice this stone mosaic path. You can see the shape of the stones and the manner in which they are laid gives an illusion of movement, as if a river was flowing and leading us toward the water source.” Stepping closer to the rustic stone bowl, he continued. “This type of water basin is called a
tsukubai.
Can you say that?”

Rudy attempted to mimic Yoshito. “
Tsukubai.”

“Yes, that’s it. The
tsukubai
is known as a crouching basin. In order to use it, one must adopt a position of humility. One must remember that he is only a small part of the world, not the world itself. You will see the larger and smaller pebbles surrounding it in a definite pattern. This is all part of the desired arrangement. I have devised the water to flow like a fountain so one can always hear the sound of trickling water. Behind it and to the side is a stone lantern called
ishi
toro,
which contains the three basic shapes, the square, the circle and the triangle. Long ago, lanterns would be lit to provide lighting for tea ceremonies that took place after dark or first thing in the early morning hours. I will occasionally put a candle out here, but I am afraid I have adopted technology by using electrical lighting for night time. It highlights this area very nicely.”

Walking along pathways of stone, Rudy noticed that most all the plantings were evergreen. Here and there was a splash of color, and he was proud that he could identify many by their names, like the Japanese maple and hydrangeas, the orchids he saw in pots situated at random, the long iris leaves, and the azaleas and camellia bushes that in late winter and early spring would provide some color. Mostly though, there was this carpet of green textures—mosses, grasses, trees, ferns, bushes—everything lush. As they worked their way along an upward path, they approached the wood gazebo that Rudy had noticed earlier.

“What is that?” Rudy questioned, pointing to the small retreat.

In the corner of the yard, a bit elevated, was a small structure surrounded by maple trees. Its four corner posts and the cross beams were in dark wood with open walls and bamboo covering the roof. The floor was large, flat stones with some color; maybe slate with bamboo mats thrown about. It was a simple but serene place. Rudy felt like whispering as if it was a holy place and he was on hallowed ground.

“This is where I come to meditate, to pray… where I come to open my mind to positive experience and energy. See how the sunlight is filtered through the delicate leaves of the maple? It is a beautiful setting. I come here to gain strength each day to face the hardships of life and to forgive past wrongs and prepare myself for my existence on the next plane.”

“Hardships? You seem to have it made here,” Rudy said, clearly confused. Yoshito appeared to have a calm existence, didn’t seem to have many hardships. What past wrongs was he talking about? Rudy wanted to know.

“Everyone must endure hardships, Rudy; no one is exempt. I think you have already discovered that at a young age. For you it may be not having a father or financial hardships.” Rudy almost visibly winced. Yoshito had zeroed in on his greatest pain. “For me, it is the loss of Grace, my wife. I miss her terribly. One does not easily recover from a loss like that. Her loss opened a great space for loneliness and bitterness to take hold. I must work to not let those negative energies move into that space but fill it up with other things.” They continued to walk on.

“I must also open my mind to forgiveness to let go of past wrongs. In the Christian tradition, there is a prayer called the Our Father. Do you know it?” Rudy nodded yes, but he hadn’t said prayers in a very long time.

“There is a beautiful line that says, ‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us
.
’ I cannot ask the great Creator to forgive me if I cannot forgive others; instead, He will bestow mercy on me to the degree that I have bestowed mercy on others.”

“Who do you have to forgive, Yoshito?” Rudy asked cautiously, knowing he was taking liberties in Yoshito’s personal business.

“Come, let us begin our work, and I will tell you.” Rudy followed Yoshito to an area where there was a small, winding path surrounded by shrubbery. The trail had some kind of plastic looking covering over the ground. To the side were bags and bags of fine gravel.

“You are a strong boy, and I am an old man. I need your muscles to finish this job. Here on the path you will lay the gravel, in small piles every few feet, and then I will smooth them out.”

Rudy did as he was told and worked for the next two hours, opening bags, pouring out gravel into even piles around the trail, waiting patiently for Yoshito to tell his story. Yoshito directed him, pointing here and there while crawling on his hands and knees spreading the stones with his glove-covered hands. When Rudy was done, he helped Yoshito spread the stones evenly, the gravel digging into his knees through his jeans. Afterward, Rudy wiped the sweat with his shirttail while Yoshito bid him to sit for a while on a nearby stone and cool down. Instead of joining him, Yoshito grabbed an unusually heavy-looking rake and began raking the stones. Rudy wondered what was going on. Watching Yoshito drag the rake this way and that, he noticed that patterns began to slowly emerge—wavy and winding ridges and furrows gave the illusion of movement, of water. It was art like Rudy had never seen before. He sat mesmerized while Yoshito created a river of stone. It too was headed toward the water basin at the front of the yard. Here and there, Yoshito would stop and pull a wide comb out of his pocket and expertly drag the comb in a circle creating water droplets in the middle of the waves as if this river were caught in a rain shower.

Rudy sat there silently, watching the master move his rake back and forth, and when it was done, Rudy remarked, “It’s unbelievable.” He could not believe what had been created from small pebbles.

Yoshito smiled and said, “Yes, it is profound that even a seemingly dull, small pebble is really something beautiful by nature.” Yoshito put down the rake and joined Rudy in the shade on a nearby rock. “What do you see, Rudy?”

“I see a river heading toward your back door, and it’s raining.”

“You are a smart boy. How does it make you feel?”

“Relaxed… happy… cool.”

“Me, too. In this chaotic world, we must always look for ways to find peace inside.” For a minute, Yoshito seemed to be gathering his thoughts, looking across time and space.

“I promised you a story.”

Rudy nodded.

“I do not tell many people this story. It is not of a very happy time for me. But in other ways, it is very dear. I tell you because I trust you, Rudy. I think you are a good boy who will grow up to be a fine man. I think of you as a friend.”

Rudy was so touched by this. A friend. He hadn’t thought of these men as friends, but if truth be known, he had come to like them despite their age and oddities. He liked being thought of as a friend—Yoshito’s friend. Rudy remembered thinking of Yoshito as “the jap” and now regretted thinking of him in such a disrespectful way. This summer hadn’t been so bad after all. He had learned so much and found himself changing. He saw things, people differently.

Rudy looking embarrassed, but wanting Yoshito to know he was sincere, said, “I like you too—you, Frederick, and Jacob.”

“Never underestimate the power of friendship, Rudy. Aristotle once said that, ‘Without friends, no one would choose to live, though he had all other goods.’ I think he was right. And so now I will confide my story to you, my friend.”