Chapter 16 in R.M. Dolin’s novel “The Dangling Conversation“, September 23, 2023
ISABELLE: “YEAH, Yeah, yeah, I hear you; and apologize, but it’s not like you’re owed an explanation for all my comings and goings. I don’t mean to be terse; I get you’re worried and you’re right, it’s not like me to up and be off somewhere else and given my history of hiding, I’m glad you worry. Guess I’m a bit unhinged and the thing is, I’ve been looking at my life with regret and there’s a lot not to like. I had to go home in a hurry, an all of a sudden crazy out of nowhere kinda hurry. We knew she was sick, but no one thought much of it, turns out she’s good at never letting on and when something like that happens, you start to question pretty much everything.
“It’s not that her and I weren’t close, we were, but it was a long time ago and life has a funny way of letting you let go of things you only later realize are precious. Maybe not so much funny as true; we’re so busy chasing things we need to be happy we fail to see how epically we fail at the things that matter; we’re running here and there like rabid rabbits, chasing after the next shiny trinket we’ll never have and most likely wouldn’t cherish even if we did. And in our wake, we leave behind the very things that once gave us the profound happiness we’re hoping to recapture. We’re like one of those rodents in a cage who spends their days running on a fly wheel that never goes anywhere; if we could just move forward one inch, one stinky inch, but no, all we do is run until we’re exhausted, never moving a bit.
“That’s how life’s defining itself these days; if you ask me what I want most, I’ll glibly say to be happy. If you ask me to define happiness, I’ll smile sardonically while surface searching my soul and tell you I haven’t a clue. That scares me, scares the living crap right out of me. In part because I know the answer lies just below that surface, and in part because I’m afraid of what I’d learn if I looked; there’s a whole lot of nasty in looking. Think about it, you’re not happy, I’m not happy, is anybody really ever, or are some just better at blowing smoke up their ass? I don’t know that I’ve ever known anyone who’s happy but if I did, I’d likely find out their secret is knowing how to be satisfied with the crap they have; I believe people exist who long ago stopped chasing after the next new shiny something, but I’m certain I’ve never met them.
“Her name was Margret, but that’s an old lady’s name, so we called her Margo; it has a more exciting pizazz, even a sorta sexy vibe to it, though Margo’s anything but sexy or exciting. Darcy was the last one to see her; she only found out Margo was terminal days before but had to promise not to tell the rest of us. According to Darcy, who later confirms with Tara who was two years ahead of us in school and a nurse at the hospital, Margo only got the terminal news about eight months ago and of course spent the first five working through the multi-layered stages of denial; trying the few lifesaving options available. She then made the decision to live happy as long as possible; that’s different than giving up, just so you know.
“Sounds stupid to say someone lived out a life being terminally cut short while still in their prime being happy. Margo managed it though, I’ll give her that, if anyone can simply make a decision and will its outcome, it’s her. That’s who she was, like a freaking force of nature waiting to unfold, which is why she kept things secret, didn’t want to spend her remaining months sitting through a pity parade of funeral drama from well-intentioned friends.
“What I regret, well maybe not so much regret as I am disappointed about, is she didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye. Lingering feelings about that I can’t seem to shake, sometimes I’m angry; I mean what the hell’s up with that, she’s dead and I’m mad at her for dying alone. I regret that she didn’t see me as a close friend, someone she could confide in, someone who could provide comfort without adding to her burden. Then I feel ashamed for making her death all about me, I mean really, what kind of person must I be that one of my dearest friends didn’t want me at her side on such an emotional journey. And that’s when it all gets a little dark, because I think I have become that person you don’t want by your side when your world turns to shit; that’s a rabbit hole I don’t know how to crawl out of.
“This shit’s all new to me, having someone close die, but I know you’ve walked a mile in those moccasins. I can’t shake this feeling that once the barrier’s broken, once one of our group passes, the rest of us fall like dominoes. I’ve keep wondering where in this marathon of life I’ll land; likely I won’t be next but I’m equally likely to not be last; at least that’s how I’d bet if I was going to wager on my own dead pool. That’s how me and the girls left things, no one saying anything, but knowing we’re all playing the same game; sizing each other up in bins ranging from saint to sinner to generate an ordered list of how our dominoes will eventually fall. It’s so damn morbid, yet how can you not play this game and what does it say about us. The irony is there’s a part of my soul that talks to my mind that’s convinced I’ll live forever.”
KYLE: “I had a crew like yours in high school, a small but tight cohort and like you, we sort of all lost touch as life took us in different directions with different demands. None of us stayed in our hometown, the days of hometown living have come and gone and to be honest, I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or at the very core of why the world’s in constant chaos. It sounds like you and Margo were part of the same click, even if you may not have been besties. It was different for our crew; the guy who went first was the one I was closest to.
“His name was Ted, but we called him Red on account of being Irish; ironically, he had coal black hair and hardly any freckles. It wasn’t his lack of red hair that defines him, there’s probably plenty of Irish men with black hair. It wasn’t because he didn’t have freckles, hell, South Dakota winters combined with relentless prairie winds wipe the freckles off anyone. It was the manner in which whatever he does seems to spin out of control in unfortunate ways; ya see, Red’s a decent enough fella but he has a problem that follows him throughout his life like Sisyphus and the boulder; no matter what hill Red tries to climb, he somehow manages to get pushed back just as he nears the top, usually due to circumstances of his own demise.
“I met Red at the start of freshman year, he’d lived in our small town his entire life, but I was new and if that wasn’t bad enough, the transition from junior high to high school is pretty damn rough. Red though, he made me feel welcome from day one. Back then I was a bit of a book nerd and Red was anything but, so we should have never become close friends; sometimes though, clicks cross over and before long we found ways to bond, like drinking beer, chasing girls, and driving fast cars, which pretty much defines most the boys in my high school. Me and Red were different though, there was comfortableness with him, I didn’t have to pretend to be macho or dangerous, or someone fitting into an expected mold; just two guys hanging out taking on life as it came at us full throttle.
“We had some pretty awesome adventures, that’s for sure, including run-ins with the law a time or two. We never got caught, at least not for the serious stuff, but there were a few high-speed chases in his old Chevy when it seemed certain we would. His dad was a big deal in our little town so Red had to mind himself more than me, only he didn’t; or couldn’t, which is why I suppose, he and his dad didn’t get on so well. He thought there’d be a place for him on the family ranch but being the youngest of three boys Red realizes right out of high school he has to make his own way in the world. That’s the harsh reality of modern prairie life, the pie’s just not big enough to support everyone so the oldest get first go at grabbing the homestead.”
ISABELLE: “My group of gals came together in first grade, and we stayed tight through high school, a few of us, including Margo, all the way past college. Margo stole Darcy’s first boyfriend just before junior prom and the resulting drama’s really something. They do eventually patch things up but never really put it all behind them; it causes a dark vapor wall to form between a famously deep friendship that’s never fully pierced; and to be honest, they never really try all that hard either.
“I don’t want to suggest there’s something sinister about Margo, but when you look back, it seems she’s always working angles that have a diabolical twist. Never anything overt of even really noticeable at the time, and certainty nothing you can point at to call her out, but little crumbs eventually make a cake and when I look back at some of the crap my group endured, the constant catalyst seems to be Margo.”
KYLE: “Red’s catalyst is his inability to find ways to befriend fate; seems whenever he starts getting his shit together fate intervenes, and never in a kind or gentle way. One thing working against him is he’s a perfectionist, as imperfect as any perfectionist that’s ever lived; not in a “I want to be as good as I can,” way, Red was a pathological perfectionist, if he couldn’t be the best at something right from the start, he didn’t want to even give it a go. He was frozen by an inability to start anything because he couldn’t process needing to invest in any required learning curve, which of course led to lifelong frustration and disappointment.”
ISABELLE: “I know it’s awful to say, but I’m disappointed in Margo, not for dying, for being a bit of a bitch. I shouldn’t talk ill of the dead, but boy did some nasty shit come out at the funeral. First of all, she’s the one, more than any of my friends back in college, that convinces me to break up with Diego just as it’s almost certain he’s about to propose. Her argument seems solid at the time, “Chefs!” she says, “are no different than medical doctors when it comes to the lifestyle you can expect.” She points out how they’re always working nights and weekends, always on call. Margo liked to say, “a doctor you can at least marry for money, but if you hookup with a chef, you’ll be supporting him your whole damn life.” At the time her argument seems spot on and even though I love him, I rationalize we wouldn’t last long term. I want a normal life with a husband who has normal hours and Diego’s never going to be able to live like that. Breaking up starts to make sense and I know I have to do it before he proposes because if I wait, I also know I’ll say yes.
“Fast forward through the disastrous years with my Ex that follow and who do I find sitting in the front pew at Margo’s funeral, a mournful mess in his stylish black suit and slicked back hair, none other than Mr. Barcelona. I try avoiding him at the reception, but he hunts me down, begs me to have coffee with him somewhere we can talk. I don’t really want to, but there’s a desperation in his eyes that amplifies my guilt, so I tell myself I at least owe him that. An hour later we’re having coffee as he tells me the story of how he and Margo connected. After years of struggling and constantly moving from kitchen to kitchen to earn his bones, of bouncing in and out of relationships with no hope of lasting, he winds up becoming executive chef at a restaurant that earns it’s second Micheline star three years into his tenure. One evening after Margo’s just relocated back to town she’s out celebrating with a group of friends at Diego’s restaurant. She has no idea he works there but when he comes out of the kitchen to answer a question for another diner, she recognizes him immediately.
“Margo calls Diego over all excited and starts going off about how they know each other. He claims he can’t remember her or what she’s talking about until she mentions me, and then, his story goes silent. He stares painfully at his coffee before slowly looking up and straight into my eyes, forcing a slight smile he tentatively whispers, “hearing your name, sweet Isabelle, was like a magic word breaking a spell, like awakening from a dream that had been dormant so long it lost its hunger.” I’m not sure what the hell that means, or what he’s trying to imply, but am convinced we’re suddenly not talking about Margo anymore.
“Eager to get us back on track, I divert him around his detour and onto the Margo story. According to him, after diner, one thing leads to another and before long they’re dating. At the very least Margo owes me a heads up on whole hooking up thing. It’s highly hypocritical of her to start dating the very guy she convinces me to break up with, there’s a code about such things ya know, and I don’t care how long ago he and I ended our deal, stuff like that isn’t bound by time. And that’s not really even it, if I’m being honest. I’m sitting there listening to his sorrowful story feeling jealous over a dead woman no longer having something I tossed aside. It doesn’t make sense, which is why it’s still causing angst. It does at least help me understand the whole you and Nadia thing; the feelings I felt for him when we were dating flood back with a freshness that flusters me, and he’s so damn spot on, it’s like awakening from a dream that’s been dormant.”
KYLE: “My dream out of high school is to pursue a swashbuckler’s life of epic adventure and high romance, so I go to work for a commercial plumbing crew that travels around our five-state region. Red opts for the same destiny but takes up with a seismographing outfit, which is a big deal back the day when oil barrens are still trying to determine how much crude is buried beneath the North Dakota prairie. Seismographing is hard hazardous work but pays well. These guys go into a field and drill a series of small diameter holes several hundred feet deep, they then pack each hole with explosives and set all the charges off simultaneously so they can map the explosive shock wave as it travels through the ground to get something that looks like a medical x-ray image of the earth revealing hidden pockets of underground oil.
“Red’s living large, a new pickup, nice stereo, girls chasing after him. He’s doing way better than me, but like I said, his boulder’s never able to rest at the top of an incline. One afternoon while packing explosives into one of his holes it prematurely detonates. The blast wave shoots out of the hole with so much intensity it tears half his face off. After months in hospital rehab the doctors manage to rebuild him into a reasonable resemblance of who he once was, but inside, Red never really recovers. One enduring side effect is getting addicted to opioids; doctors don’t really give a shit who they destroy in the name of modern medicine, all that matters is the profitable payoff for being a high-performing pusher.
“It’s a dark time for Red that just keeps getting darker, he winds up hooking up with another addict who gets him into crack and heroin. Before long they’re living in a halfway house in Arizona doing whatever’s required to get high. When she gets pregnant, Red tries to step up; he gets them into a rehab program and they’re on a solid track to achieve sobriety, but his disability payment isn’t enough to set up a life outside the halfway house away from other users. He can’t work because no one will hire him, his disability and drug history are just too much of a risk. So one day, out of desperation for trying to do the right thing for his pregnant girlfriend, Red modifies his disability check thinking no one’s gonna notice an extra zero. By the time all that’s sorted out, he’s in an Arizona prison, where if nothing else, they at least prepare him for life back out on his own.”
ISABELLE: “That’s how life seems for Diego, he talks about his struggles, the pressures of being a Michelin star chef, the sacrifices he’s made to get there and the even greater pressures he’s under to maintain. I feel sad for him as he talks about his loss and what Margo meant to him. I admire him for the person he’s become especially given the way I left things. He’s achieved so much after starting with so little, how can you not admire that.
“The problem is now he’s writing and texting, wanting to get back together and I’ll confess, I’m a bit torn. I mean there’s Henry who I love and the potential for all the things we might have, and there’s Diego, who I never stopped loving and the history of all the things we had. I know it’s shallow, but I have to admit that knowing him now with his Michelin star, knowing how he was back in the day as short order cook practicing hundreds of tries to make the perfect omelet, and imagining the journey that takes him to his Barcelona, makes me love him all over again but in a new and profound way.
“There’s nothing physical between us; I would never betray Henry. But I find myself getting pulled into this bizarre hybrid kind of relationship. I never imagined ever seeing Diego again, and now here we are bouncing emails and text messages like I’m back in college. He knows about Henry, knows nothing can come from our reconnection; says he doesn’t care, that just having me back in his life in any form is necessary for his soul to find peace. Sounds a bit too poetic to not have a romantic connotation, which is why I know I should shut things down, and yet, I am so totally unable.”
KYLE: “It’s hard doing the things we know we should, and that’s certainly the case for Red; he finds ways though, and I respect him for that. He manages to get clean and sober in prison and once released starts driving truck. Things are finally coming together for him; his daughter’s about to turn two, his girlfriend’s back on the needle but trying to get sober, and he can finally afford to provide for his family. It’s so damn nice to see good things flowing his way. Then one day, just as he’s entering Albuquerque with a load of artificial grass he’s hauled in from California, his trailer somehow comes unhitched and starts erratically weaving around traffic lanes miraculously avoiding cars behind him; that is until the trailer tongue digs into a soft spot in road and flips into the lane of oncoming traffic. As the trailer lands, it takes out everyone in a passing car without mercy. The police at least rule it an accident so there’s no jail time for the deaths Red’s caused, but the financial obligations ruin him and the burden on his soul is debt that can’t be expunged.”
ISABELLE: “We all carry the weight of past burdens like gravity against a long incline. Everyone has someone from a time when all the wonderful things about life and love are possible. Diego and I can’t be together for a whole host of practical and logistical reasons but at the same time, we can’t deny what’s in our hearts. He’s still the same incredible man he was back in college; warm, compassionate, deeply philosophical, and always understanding, even after breaking up with him, which to this day stands as perhaps the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever done, and that’s from a long list of regrets.
“I know it’s wrong to have this thing, whatever you want to call it, with him. Perhaps the past needs to be just that. I really don’t know how you and Nadia pull it off, twenty plus years, bouncing in and out of each other’s lives; in and out of love. I’m not saying I’m in love with Diego or out of love with Henry, even if it has to be one or the other. I’m not saying anything because there’s nothing to say, no absolution required. I just feel like I’m stranded on a rocky ledge and every next step is fraught with life and death, so I have to be ever so mindful about how to proceed.”
KYLE: “Sometime I feel that Greek guy pushing a rock up an incline, guess we all do to some degree, the only differences are the size of the boulder and the grade of the incline. Mark that down as my geometric theory of life.
“At this point Red’s crashing hard but hasn’t reached rock bottom, but it’s coming. His girlfriend walks out leaving him to raise their four-year-old on his own. I don’t know how Red pulls it off and to be honest, am afraid to ask. He keeps a roof over her head though and that’s gotta count for something; keeps her in school too, all the way to graduation. He tips over a year later; doctors say it’s an accumulation of his seismograph injuries coupled with years of drug addiction; I prefer to think it’s that he finishes his chores, and his purpose is complete. Life can only take on so much loss before you wind up in debtors’ prison, that’s where he is in the end; he persevered as best he could as long as he should then his markers get called in.”
ISABELLE: ”Diego perseveres enough to escape his debtor’s prison and now, seeing all his success, I can’t help but wonder if he would have gotten there by staying with me? I can come at this from multiple ends, there’s a part of me that says he’s so devastated by our breakup it propels him to culinary greatness. On the flip side, it can be argued that being free from me finally allows him space to pursue his dreams unhindered by the weight of my baggage. Either way, he finds greatness, I’m less than nowhere, and Margo’s dead, what does all that say about life? I wish I had the chance to ask Margo why she convinced me to break up with him only so years later she can suddenly decide he’s exactly who she needs. We needed that conversation for closure; for her it obviously no longer matters, but for me it portends how I find passage through this turmoil.”
