"Even if there weren't, they're at least fifteen or twenty feet high and weigh several tons," I said. "Rather exorbitant excess baggage charges."
"And a little too large for carry-on," she said. "Isn't there something there that could justify the trip?"
"I expect there are all kinds of treasures," I said. "But nothing I'd be allowed to sell at McClintoch and Swain."
"I guess not," she said. She paused a second or two. "The thing is, Clive is not dealing well with the fact I might have been seriously ill, that I haven't been my usual perky self."
I was tempted to say that Clive Swain wouldn't deal well with a hangnail. I should know. I was married to him for twelve long years, and we were still in business together. On the personal side, however, he was Moira's problem now.
"I'm sure he's just been worried about you, Moira," I said, silently congratulating myself on my tact and diplomacy. "You've had a close call. You can't blame him."
"I suppose not," she said. "So will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Come with me, you dope. I know I could go by myself, but it would be so much more fun if you'd come, too. Think about it: a fun-only excursion. No work. No men."
"Now there's a subversive thought. When were you thinking of going?"
"Next week."
"Next week!" I thought of the upcoming Antique Fair where Clive and I had booked a large booth. I thought of the shipment arriving any day from Italy. I thought of the backlog of paperwork sitting on my desk. I thought of what was becoming an unending kitchen renovation at home, one that required constant pestering of workmen.
"I'll pay your way," Moira said. "If that's an impediment."
"You will not!" I replied.
"So you'll come?" she said.
"It's a very long trip. Are you sure you're up for it?"
A significant pause greeted my question. Quite right, too. It was a silly thing to ask. If I had had surgery less than three weeks before, I'd still be horizontal, back of hand to forehead, whimpering. Not Moira. She is the most determined person I know. Nothing stops her when she puts her mind to it. I thought of the last several months, of the unpleasant tests, the painful surgery, then the interminable wait for results. I could only imagine what she'd been going through, because through it all she'd never discussed how she felt. This was the first conversation we'd had on the subject. It was too bad, really, because at one time we talked about everything.
"Why not?" I said, decision made. "I've always wanted to hug one of those statues, too." If Clive couldn't deal well with Moira's illness, we would see how well he could deal with the Antique Fair all by himself. It would serve him right for not being more supportive of Moira.
"Thank you," she said. "It means a lot to me."
"We'll have a great time," I said. "We haven't traveled together in years."
"Decades," she agreed. "I wonder what happens to us, all the things we wanted to do, like my being an archaeologist. Instead we sort of fall into some kind of work, the same way we just fall into one relationship or another. It sort of seems right at the time, I guess, but the excitement, the zest for life and its endless possibilities, is lost. Did you always want to be an antique dealer? I suppose you did. You were pretty focused on it when we first met."
"I don't think anybody plans to be an antique dealer when they grow up, Moira," I said. "I was always interested in history, ancient history, really. Anything after 1500 was a bore as far as I was concerned. I didn't want to be a teacher, so I guess I just found something that appealed to an innate interest, and yes, I'm glad I did it. No, I didn't plan it that way. After university I traveled, as did about two-thirds of my graduating class. The difference was they drank their way around the world. I shopped. In fact, I shopped so much I had to sell a lot of the stuff to make room for more."
"A slight exaggeration, I'm sure," she said. "Seriously, though, wasn't there something you wanted to be when you were a little kid?"
"A train conductor," I said. "I thought it would be cool to sit in the back of the train and wave at everybody at the railway crossings. But do I regret not doing it? No."
"You're lucky. I got my MBA because it seemed kind of cool, to use your word, and I opened a spa partly because I did the research and saw an opportunity, but also, in part, because it bugged my parents to no end. They hated the idea of a shopkeeper in the family. Still do, in fact. Not a good reason, I know."
"But you're so good at it," I said. "Don't you get some enjoyment out of it?"
"Sure I do," she said. "And you're right, I've done well by it. I just wonder where I'd be if I'd followed my dream, followed my bliss, as Joseph Campbell used to say. Would I be here, running my spa and in a relationship with Clive, for example? I don't know."
I said nothing. Having been married to the guy, divorced, and then a hardly disinterested spectator as Clive and my best friend took up with each other, I'd long ago promised myself never to discuss my feelings on that subject. In fact, I'd buried my feelings so deep, I wasn't sure I knew what they were anymore. I had always felt my friendship with Moira hinged on our mutual silence and that, close friends though we were, if we ever got into a discussion about it, one of us was bound to say something that would bring our relationship to an end. I was happy with my partner, Rob Luczka, and even with him, I had made a point of discussing neither my past life with Clive, nor the often conflicting emotions I had felt about Clive and Moira together.
"What do you want me to do about the arrangements for Easter Island?" I said. "Shall I get the tickets? Given I have enough points to get me to Mars and back, why don't I see what I can do?"
"I am going on, aren't I?" Moira said. "You're quite right to change the subject. Blame it on the anesthetic. The surgeon told me it would be months before it worked its way out of my system. I will try not to be so maudlin from now on. But if I learned one thing from the experience, it was that it's a mistake to wait to do something, because you may find you missed your chance. Carpe diem—seize the day. That's my motto from now on. I'm going to Easter Island, and if I have to sneak out in the middle of the night when no one is looking, I'm hugging one of those things."
"You aren't having a mid-life crisis right here in my store, are you?" I said.
"Maybe," she said.
"Okay," I said. "Just so I know."
"I'll get over it," she said.
"I'm not sure how Clive is going to feel about this," I said with a very slight, almost imperceptible twinge of guilt.
"Leave Clive to me," she said.
Easter Island has to be one of the remotest places on earth. While my European ancestors were busy thinking that if they sailed out too far they'd fall off the edge of the world, other ancient mariners crossed thousands of miles of empty ocean, apparently routinely. And, some of them, by chance or by design, found the island, risked being crushed to death in the wicked surf that pounds the shore incessantly, and stayed. The kind of journey they must have had, I cannot imagine. It was nerve-wracking enough on an airplane—more than five hours and about 2,400 miles straight out into the Pacific from Santiago, Chile, looking for a small triangle of land only twenty-five miles long from tip to tip. If you missed it, there were almost 1,200 miles of water before you came to the next dot on the ocean's surface—Easter Island's nearest inhabited neighbor, the infamous Pitcairn Island. They named this part of the Pacific the Desolate Zone for a reason, one it's best not to think too much about while you're sitting on Lan Chile flight 841.
Easter Island is, in fact, very far away from everywhere, especially home. I'd spent way too many hours in the air, Toronto to Sao Paulo, Sao Paulo to Santiago, then on across thousands of miles of water. Moira, through it all, was perky as anything. She'd spent the air time sleeping, which would have been a sensible thing for me to do, if I were capable of such a thing. "There has to be some advantage to having had surgery three and a half weeks ago," she said, somewhere over the Caribbean. "I believe I could sleep sitting up on a camel."