Clear Lake
by nan fink gefen
Rebecca Lev, an alienated Jew and a stressed-out psychotherapist, has returned to California to investigate her father’s suspicious death. She unravels emotionally, and in this excerpt she flees to Clear Lake with her father’s urn.
As soon as Rebecca saw the A-frame cabin from the outside, she knew it would be perfect. It sat on a small piece of land that jutted out into the water, and it had a feeling of solitude and separateness about it, so different from all the other homes that crowded around Clear Lake. Here she could be utterly alone. And the lake looked more appealing in this spot, with clumps of reeds along the shoreline hiding the slimy, green water.
Rebecca unlocked the door of the tiny cabin and stepped inside. The walls were paneled with warm brown pine, and the room felt homey and comfortable with its little couch, kitchen table and two chairs, mini-refrigerator, and hot plate. It was clean and well-loved, with chintz curtains, colorful pottery, and games and puzzles stashed away in a cupboard. In a cozy alcove there was a double bed covered by a bedspread that looked homemade. Best of all, the cabin had a private wood deck on three sides, extending directly above the clumps of reeds and water.
Rebecca called the realtor to tell her she’d take it, and she threw open the windows, preparing to move in. “Good news,” she sang to her father’s urn. “I’ve found us a home. Not where you and I stayed before, but it’s every bit as good. Even better.” It didn’t take her long to carry in her belongings and unpack. “Perfect, perfect,” she kept saying, her voice high and shrill. “Just right, just right.”
But now she needed to drop a check off at the realtor’s and get supplies, enough for a few weeks. One more time of talking with people before shutting the door of the cabin. She could do it, she told herself. She drove back to the realty office and left a check—that chatty realtor thankfully was out of the office—and then she went to the general grocery store three miles away. There she loaded up on canned tuna and salmon, dried fruits and nuts, carrots and tomatoes, brown rice and eggs, cheese and crackers, tea and coffee, and bottled water and juice.
No more unhealthy chips or candy.
Back at the cabin, she slowly put away her supplies, exhausted by her efforts. She dragged the cushions from the couch out to the deck and made a comfortable nest for herself where she could sit undisturbed. The lake cast off a faintly stagnant odor, but it bothered her less than she would have thought possible. She sighed deeply, her whole body letting down. This was exactly where she’d wanted to be, although she hadn’t known it before she arrived.
All semblance of internal order fell away. Rebecca stayed on the deck that day for hours, staring into the distance without really seeing anything. Mountains and lake and trees merged into a blurry mass, and fragments of thought ran through her mind but none stayed. It was as though her life’s course had brought her to this moment, and there was nothing to do but dwell in it. And then she began to weep, long sobs that seemed to come from the core of her being. She grasped onto the urn, and her body convulsed in waves.
“Oh, Dad,” she cried. “Oh, God.”
She continued weeping as though the well of sorrows was infinitely deep. After a while a feeling of fear began to race through her, and she suddenly imagined that she would lose her balance, her sanity, everything she’d worked for. She tried to pull back to safety, but then she looked down at the putrid waters and wept some more.
“So much sadness,” she wailed. “So much loneliness and emptiness.”
She wiped her runny nose on her arm, and the tears flowed even more, sliding down her cheeks and dropping onto the deck. The afternoon passed in this way. Rebecca did not notice the sun moving from one side of the deck to the other, or the family of ducks that paddled by, or the spider crawling next to her nest of pillows. Finally she got up, her legs hardly holding her, and staggering inside, she collapsed on the bed and slept soundly for fourteen hours.
Nan Fink Gefen’s new novel, “Clear Lake” was recently published by She Writes Press. Gefen is the author of two nonfiction books, “Discovering Jewish Meditation” and “Stranger in the Midst: A Memoir of Spiritual Discovery.” She was the co-founding publisher of Tikkun magazine and is the publisher of Persimmon Tree, an online magazine of the arts. She lives in Berkeley.