Adam and Leonora by Carol Jameson

Author:Carol Jameson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press

As soon as she entered the Teacup’s murky enclave, Leonora spied Madame X starting to mix the gimlets. She knew. And what more did anyone need in a bartender than someone who knew what you were drinking without even asking?

Yet, Madame X was more than your ordinary bartender. She was a Santa Cruz institution, running the bar upstairs while her husband ran the Chinese restaurant below. And while Leonora knew that “inscrutable” was no longer a politically correct descriptor, it was the one that so aptly fit Madame X. Always impeccably dressed in her crimson Chinese cheongsam, Madame X exuded an aura of old-world China.

“Good afternoon, Madame X.” Leonora took a seat at the bar. Madame X nodded, her deep chocolate eyes taking in Leonora.

“Good afternoon, Miss Leonora. Gimlet.” Madame X placed the lime-green drink on the counter before her, her graceful palm presenting it with an exquisite flourish. “Please, enjoy.”

“Yes, thank you. Wonderful.” Leonora took a sip, wondering where François and Annabelle were. She thought they were right behind her, but evidently not. She took out her book, holding its delicious heft, gazing at the cover of purple elephants and orange giraffes surrounded by a moonlit glow of palm trees.

This book was going to be most enlightening, she thought, flipping to a random page, her eyes alighting on a quote by Carl Jung: “The unconscious does not harbor in itself any explosive materials unless an overweening or cowardly conscious attitude has secretly laid up stores of explosives there. All the more reason, then, for watching our step.” [23]

Leonora shivered. Was her unconscious sending her a warning? Did she dismiss her dreams as inconsequential or mine them as only fodder for her art? She didn’t believe this to be true. She analyzed her dreams, made connections to her life and her attitudes. Yet . . . were her dreams, especially those that featured animals or people that she knew, full of hidden power that she needed to dig deeper to understand? Explosives. Yes, she felt dynamite inside of herself but rarely allowed it to burst open her conscious life. Why? What was she afraid of? Was it François, for instance? The way they had met? How it had seemed so fated. Out of her control. And now, here today, she still felt this uncanny impulse to just let him do what he would. That she had no control over him. When all she wanted was control. Was her desire for this unequivocal control an earthquake waiting to happen?

Was it François that she needed to be more suspicious of? Had she been too sure of his love? Of her power over him? Was he the reason she needed to watch her step?

“Hey, Leonora!” Annabelle’s cheerful voice rang out, breaking her reverie. “Look what we found!”

Annabelle opened her cupped palms to reveal a tiny golden sculpture. “Isn’t it marvelous!” she exclaimed as she placed it on the bar counter.

Leonora stared at the golden lump for a moment before discerning its shape. Why, it was a tiny golden goat! How astounding! “Where did you find it?” she asked.

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