Page 20 of No Such Thing as Serendipity

The day hadn’t started out well, so my mood was foul.

As if the sharing circle yesterday wasn’t bad enough, today’s had been even worse.

I suppose the question hadn’t been all that bad.

It was my answer that was. If only Dana hadn’t skipped out, I wouldn’t have felt so alone.

How did I know listing my career aspirations when asked how I wanted to be remembered was not the right thing to say?

That’ll teach me to volunteer to go first. I’d spoken up to get it over with. Never again.

To everyone’s credit, they hadn’t shamed me, but the hurt in Emma’s eyes was worse than any shaming.

Robyn, our leader once again, encouraged me to explore non-work-related things to be remembered for.

She’d been gentle and kind, which pissed me off worse.

I didn’t need to be coddled just because I wasn’t one big raw emotion like the others.

To worsen matters, Emma signed us up for kayaking on the creek. Why not the lake? I was determined to be a good sport for her. I was tired of causing the hurt in her eyes, so I could do this.

Since it was an off-site activity, we’d piled into my truck and Robyn’s van. There were ten of us, including everyone from our villa except for Dana and Helena. Among the other participants, I didn’t remember any of their names.

The drive to Waunakee Village Park was short, but I relished being behind the wheel again. We’d kept our windows down and enjoyed the breeze. I would have preferred to keep driving, but kayaking awaited.

“This is such a pretty area,” Annie said as we hurried behind the man leading us to our kayaks.

When he got to the water’s edge, he glanced at the kayaks and then frowned. “I thought there were eleven of you.”

“There was,” Emma said. “But Helena couldn’t make it.”

“Hey, yeah, what happened to her?” Katlynn asked.

I couldn’t help but smile at her outfit.

She’d ditched the flowing skirt for a pair of shorts but still wore her signature bandanna.

Her beaded top didn’t seem practical for kayaking nor did her enormous round sunglasses.

When the sun hit them, they sparkled green and blue.

She could have stepped out of the sixties.

“Helena had a flare-up of her fibromyalgia,” Emma said.

Katlynn’s response was cut off when the man began giving us instructions on our kayaks.

Once he finished, he said, “I’ll be waiting for you down around South Woodland Drive.”

Katlynn’s eyes widened. “You’re not coming with us?”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

“But which way are we supposed to go?” she asked.

“Only one way to go,” he responded with a twinkle in his eye.

“But what if we get lost?” she persisted.

He chuckled. “If you get lost, then you’ve accomplished some feat.”

Before Katlynn could protest, Emma raised her hand and waved it.

The man motioned to Emma. “You got a question?”

“How long will it take us?”

He nodded. “My apologies. I forgot to tell you that part. It takes about three hours if everything is clear. My sources say it is, but that can change.”

“Back the train up.” Annie raised her voice. “What does that mean?”

“Sometimes you could run into a shallow spot or downed trees or debris blocking the flow.”

“What do we do then?” I asked, not liking what I’d heard.

“Ya clear the stuff out or you carry the kayaks around it.” His expression told me he questioned my IQ.

“We’re not experienced kayakers,” I muttered, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

Robyn moved up beside me and said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

It took a while to get accustomed to our vessels, as we crashed into one another like bumper boats. Thankfully, nobody capsized. Our first half hour, we spoke little.

I enjoyed the ripples as my kayak sliced through the water. The gentle gurgle and whoosh of my paddle breaking the surface soothed me. It was a gorgeous summer day without a cloud in the sky. In the more heavily wooded areas, birds tweeting in the trees broke through the sounds of the creek.

To start, we’d gone single file down the narrow waterway, but once we’d gotten the hang of it, we’d doubled up. I’d ended up at the rear, paddling beside Robyn.

“I know you’re out of your element, but you seem to be a natural at kayaking,” Robyn said.

“I love the water, but I’ve never been in a kayak.” I shook my head. “It’s stupid, but when I was younger, I always said I would attend Yale and be on their rowing crew.”

“Why do you call it stupid?”

I shrugged as I continued to paddle. “I don’t know. It was just the dreams of a na?ve kid.”

“So you didn’t go to Yale?”

“Hardly.” I snorted. “NYU.”

“NYU is still prestigious.”

“I suppose.”

“They didn’t have a rowing team?”

“They did.”

“So?” Robyn stretched out the word. When I didn’t respond, she said, “Did you join the team?”

“No,” I answered, hoping she’d get the hint I didn’t want to talk about it.

“Why not?”

Nope. She didn’t get the hint. When I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, I decided she’d picked up my cue, but she wouldn’t let me get away with the answer. Of course, she’d push this sharing shit.

“I was there on an academic scholarship. I couldn’t risk blowing it by being distracted by extracurriculars.”

“Do you regret that?”

What the fuck? She wouldn’t let this go. Did I regret it? “Don’t we all have regrets?” I was proud of my evasive answer.

“I suppose we do.” Robyn’s voice held a note of sadness. “That’s why I do this—teach.”

I glanced over at her, trying to ascertain her meaning. “I’m afraid I’m not getting the connection.”

She smiled at me before she turned her attention back to her rowing. “Ten years ago, I committed to living my life in a way that I’d have little regrets, so it brings me joy to help others do the same.”

“So you have past regrets?” I asked.

“Don’t we all?” Robyn said, parroting my words back to me.

I chuckled. “I believe I’ve heard that line somewhere.”

“You noticed.” Robyn laughed. “To answer your question, yes, I’ve had more regrets than I would have liked, so I changed.”

We shifted into a single-file line to get through a narrow part of the creek. When we came back together, Robyn said, “The University of Wisconsin, here in Madison, has a rowing team.”

“Seriously?” It shouldn’t have surprised me with all the bodies of water nearby, but I’d assumed it was more of a coastal thing.

“Yep, and they have running water and electricity, too.”

Since Robyn was grinning when she said it, I responded, “Is that a recent development? Within the last decade or so?”

Robyn laughed. I liked her laugh. It was unrestrained and joyous. “I like it when you let your sense of humor shine,” she said.

“You mean when I remove the stick from my ass?”

Robyn laughed again. “You said it, not me.”

“Actually, Emma said it.” I smiled, thinking of all the times Emma had pushed me to lighten up and stop trying to control so much.

“I like your sister.” Robyn paddled closer to me as she avoided a large rock on her side of the creek.

“She’s the best.” I meant it. I couldn’t imagine what I’d do without her. “She’s got the patience of a saint. I know I disappoint her sometimes.” I let out a sharp exhale from my nose. “More like a lot, but she just keeps being Emma.”

“I see how much she adores you.”

“Sometimes I wonder why.”

“I’m betting she knows your heart. What’s underneath that thick exterior of yours.”

I turned and met her gaze. Our kayaks were only a few feet apart, much closer than I’d realized. Being so near, my thoughts jumbled. I wasn’t used to talking to someone like this. “So you’ve diagnosed that already?”

“The first day.” She winked at me before she looked ahead at the water. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I feel people’s energy.”

What the fuck did that mean? I couldn’t resist asking. “What kind of energy do I have?”

“Most attendees are eager to be here. About ten percent are skeptical, having been coaxed or coerced by someone else.”

I belonged in the latter category, but I didn’t know where she was going with this.

“Of those who don’t want to be here,” Robyn continued, “now and then, something magical happens. It’s like fate or serendipity.”

I groaned.

Robyn shot me a look. “Did I say something wrong?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. You just used an Emma word. She said I needed to be less controlling and let serendipity happen.” I chuckled. “I told her there was no such thing as serendipity.”

“You and I will have to agree to disagree,” Robyn said. “I’m a big believer in serendipity.”

“For me, it’s just like luck, which I also don’t believe in. Luck happens when preparation meets opportunity, so we make our own luck.”

“So can we make our own serendipity?”

“Hmm.” I let go of the paddle and put my hand against my chin. “Interesting question.” I was just playing with Robyn. Even so, the question gave me pause.

“Oh, no,” Robyn said. “Giving me your thinking pose won’t get you out of answering.”

“Damn it, you don’t miss much, do you?”

“I try not to.”

I returned my hand to the paddle and rowed for a few strokes before I said, “I doubt it since serendipity is just stuff that kinda falls out of the sky. Comes from nowhere.”

“What if I counter and say it’s just like your definition of luck?”

“How so?”

“Serendipity happens when you open yourself up to new experiences. When you allow yourself to let go.” Robyn held out her paddle and motioned to their surroundings. “Coming to a place like this.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. I’ll have to contemplate that.” I turned to her. “But I won’t admit any of this to Emma because she’d never let me live it down.”

Robyn pretended to zip her lip. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Hey, you never answered what kind of energy you think I have.” Jesus, what was my problem? The water and the sun must be making me loopy. I didn’t have conversations like this with people, and I certainly didn’t ask them what kind of energy I had.