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January 21, 2008 at 10:10 am (bizarre conversations, indigo art, my story) (, , , , , )

I haven’t had time to write my blog lately. I have been very busy. In my twenties and thirties I often had the feeling I was caught up in a web made up of office hours, classes, taxis, trains, books I had to read or write, students whose name I should have remembered, things I had promised my son I would do and never did.

As an astronomer I should have spent my time looking at the sky, hanging between the earth and the stars; my daily life kept me firmly anchored to the ground instead. I could not complain: what I had was what I had chosen for myself. I had always wanted to become a scholar and I had been clever and lucky enough to become one. Granted, I had to work hard. Granted, I slept no more than five, six hours per night. Granted, I spent more time with my students than with my family. But I had known it from the beginning and my wife had known it, too: we were both trying to do our best, hoping it would be enough.

I used to take a lot of planes at that time and I remember enjoying the sensation of being isolated from the rest of the world. My cell phone was switched off, my laptop was switched off, I was unavailable. My thoughts would slowly unroll like little locks of smoke, the deadened sounds of lazy conversations would help them widen.

As I was fastening my seat belt, that late afternoon, my thoughts were all centered around Gwendolyn and her mother. I had got up at dawn and I was tired, but I knew my ideas were extremely clear. I massaged my eyelids with my fingertips. I laid my head on the headrest.

Linda was an incredible woman. She was skinny and you couldn’t call her beautiful- yet. I couldn’t help thinking she was sexy in her own, awkward way. Jett had taken after her having brown hair and  almond shaped hazel eyes. As Devi and I entered the diner, that morning, he was watching a Youtube video on his laptop. Linda was making coffee and Gwendolyn was playing with their dog. Ben hadn’t showed up yet.

Linda was very friendly, offered us a mug of much needed coffee and coconuts biscuits. Ben had told her everything about us and our short visit, and she was glad to have the chance to meet us in person. She knew Devi was an artist who was intensely interested in indigo art, so she had asked Jett to bring his laptop so that he could surf the net and help her locate all indigo children in the West of Canada. It seemed a very nice offer and Devi was not able to decline it: of course she knew as well as I did that this was a clever way of excluding her from the conversation I was going to have with Gwendolyn and he mother. Linda could be as friendly as determined in getting what she wanted ( I should have remembered it in the future but of course I didn’t!)

Gwendolyn was very quiet: it was very early and she probably wasn’t a morning person. I noticed that she was wearing a bandanna which covered her hair, forehead and eyebrows. She was looking at me and I couldn’t interpret the expression on her face.

-I apologise for arranging an appointment so early in the morning, Linda said. – But Gwen feels she has been very rude to you yesterday and she wanted to tell you she’s sorry about that.

- Oh, that’s very nice of you Gwendolyn, I replied addressing the kid directly. Gwendolyn’s sounded like a lame excuse. Apologising for being rude is something a twelve-year-old would never do, let alone a twelve-year-old as cheeky as the blond indigo child sitting in front of me.

Linda seemed to echo my thoughts: – She did take me by surprise, you know. That’s not what this young lady would normally do, so I must admit I was very curious to meet you and I agreed to contact your Indian friend and to arrange this meeting. So, Gwen, what is it that you wanted to tell Mr. Eyebrow?

-You can call me Indigo.

- I’m sorry I was rude yesterday. You know, I was playing basketball and you and your friend arrived and interrupted me and I hate being interrupted.

- You’d better stop acting like a spoiled princess, young lady! Linda’s eyes moved from her child to me. -So, Indigo, what brings you to Saskatchewan?

-He’s an astronomer, mom.

- Really? I thought you were a painter or an art scholar!

- No, I’m no art expert at all. Devi is. We went to Kinvarra’s Todepp exhibit and her mother told us about your children.

-She did? Wow!

I knew what she meant. Mrs. Todepp was jealous of Gwen’s and Jett’s talent which was so much greater than her daughter’s. We both chuckled. I liked her.

Gwen seemed impatient now. -Mr.Eyebrow is on sabbatical mom. That’s why he’s been travelling. He normally lives in Portland and since he’s such a great scholar I was wondering if…

-NO! Linda didn’t let her finish. -I know what you’re gonna say and the answer is no. Just forget it!

- But MOM! Dad lives there! I could go and live with him…

-NO! Linda was inflexible in her decision. I asked for an explanation. Apparently, Gwen’s father lived in Portland. We both worked at the same university but for another department. Gwen had been dreaming about living with her dad since he had left for Portland, a year and a half before. She wanted to move to Portland and to quit school to have private tuition. She couldn’t bear being surrounded by slower kids any longer. So she had thought that her father could have been her tutor for English while I could have given her maths and science class. While her mother was explaining all this to me she had been biting her lip. She looked flushed with anger and yet she was trying to control herself and to appear reasonable, in the hope I would say yes and convince her mother hers was a good idea. But of course I didn’t.

- I’m very sorry Gwendolyn but I can’t help you. As you said, I’m on sabbatical, but that doesn’t mean I’m on vacation.  I’m pretty busy right now. I’m working on two books right now, then, in spring, I will be attending quite a few seminars. I couldn’t find the time to be your tutor even if I wanted to. I’m really sorry. 

Gwen went to the back-garden without a word. But I couldn’t help noticing her look as she was leaving. She was mutely accusing me: why was I letting her down after we had met in such a singular way during the night?

Had I really seen accusation in her eyes  or was it just my imagination?

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