Essential Oils
By Peggy Vincent

   (continued)

"Affinities, ah, of course." Roberta felt naughtiness bubbling up within her like froth on an oceanic whirlpool. This trilling Tweety Bird of a woman was getting on her nerves, but one look at the audience of a dozen other women of a certain age, an age of which Roberta considered herself a charter member, made her try to rein in her Attitude. The others -- well, most of them -- actually appeared to be taking this stuff seriously. "Okay, okay," she said, bowing her head in what she hoped would pass for contrition,"I'm sorry. Don't mind me. I'm just going to eat my fetal shrimp and drink my non-essential plastic water."

Scarf Lady frowned, but she recovered her flighty poise quickly. She twirled to face the other women, and as she did, Roberta saw for the first time the enormous crystal hanging from her neck on a silken thong.

"Wow," she said, forgetting her determination to behave, "where'd that thing come from? The chandelier in the ship's ballroom?"

A frown. Oh, yes, definitely a frown. "I beg your pardon? A chandelier? Of course not, of course not. This Ancient Crystal was given to me by my Aromatherapy Mentor." Roberta could actually hear her speaking in capitals. "Before giving it to me, Ramji baked it in Sand to Purify it and remove the Essence of its last owner. He said it would help me discover the Truth, the Life Force in all Living Products."

"Does it?"

"Does it what?"

"Does it help you discover the whatever in living stuff?"

"Of course, of course!" She was trilling again. Her scarves fluttered, and the chandelier-like crystal cuddled between her breasts.

She must be a virgin, Roberta thought; she has to be. A virginal psychedelic flamingo with an annoying habit of repeating herself. No woman who'd ever been really well-laid would act like this. "Ah, of course it does, of course," Roberta said, trying a trill herself in an effort to sooth the obviously ruffled feathers. "I can't wait for a demonstration. I've always loved pretty smelly things, and this table seems to be full of them." She ate an ameboid shrimp and experimented with batting her eyelashes, just to see what it would feel like. Maybe I should buy some scarves, too, she mused.

Another frown. What now? "Pretty...smelly things?"

"Oh, I mean nice smelling things, nice whaddayacallit? Aromas."

"Yes, aromas, well, well, well, then, let's get started, shall we?"

Roberta watched and listened as Scarf Lady lectured about the properties of the different oils, the necessity for matching them with certain Character Traits, and the blending of oils to produce effects such as Calm, Harmony, Vigor, Peace, Composure. She was talking in capitals again.

"But what about the crystal?" asked a woman who should never be wearing horizontal yellow, orange, and black stripes, poor dear. She looked just like a well-sated honeybee. "Can you make the crystal do its thing for us?" Immediately drawn to the striped matron, Roberta was delighted to have someone other than herself talking with this shimmering pastel vision.

"The crystal! Of course, the crystal!" Scarf Lady removed the crystal from her neck and held it above an unstoppered bottle. Roberta could smell it without even leaning forward -- vanilla something -- and she watched as the pendant began rotating in a lively little circle. Every eye in the group stared at it. Every eye except Roberta's, that is, and she was watching the hand holding the silken cord. She swore she saw it initiate the crystal's movement, as a pendulum's motion begins within the clock works.

"See, see," came the fluty voice, "the life force within the oils causes this phenomenon."

Careful not to move her head, Roberta cut her eyes from the be-ringed hand to the bumblebee striped lady in the audience and saw her exchange a look with another woman. Horse pucky, the look seemed to say.

But a younger woman in the back with a rapt look on her face lifted her hand and asked, "Is it good for anything else, the crystal?"

"Oh, my dear, but of course, of course."

"Like what?"

"Well, I never go to the grocery story without it."

The grocery store? That got Roberta's full attention. "Um, and...why?" The vision of this woman wafting through the produce section or the bread aisle waving her crystal around, following it like a siren's call, nearly made her choke on her last shrimp.

"Why, to check the freshness of the foods, what else? And it can easily discern the difference between organic and sprayed arugula. It amazes even me sometimes."

"Ah." Roberta turned aside to drink some water. Crystal Consciousness, good grief.

But suddenly Scarf Lady was speaking again. "Now watch, watch the proof, the crystal clear proof -- ha, ha, ha -- that this ancient crystal has the power to detect not only Life's Powerful Force but its absence as well." She suspended the pendant above a bouquet of silk flowers, beautiful, but nonetheless fake. There was not a trace of movement in the crystal. It hung straight down like a ships flag in a becalmed sea deep in the doldrums.

"These flowers are fake," the instructor pronounced, as if she were telling them something they didn't already know. "The crystal knows."

She set the crystal on the table and began talking again about personality properties and the qualities different women might want to blend to create their own unique potions. One by one the women approached, communed in quiet tones, and left with a one-inch high bottle of something "Blended Specially for Each Individual."

With nearly everyone else focused on the blending of the oils, Roberta saw a hand snaking across the table. She experienced no conscious decision to interfere and watched the hand as if it were disembodied or belonged to someone else. It looked suspiciously like her own hand, however. Same rings, same nail polish she'd had applied before the cruise, same little scar from the bite of a poodle puppy several lifetimes ago. It floated across the last few inches of space and, bingo! Roberta picked up the crystal. It felt heavy in her hand, and the silken cord slithered between her fingers like cool lingerie satin. She raised her eyes and found Honeybee smiling at her.

Roberta felt her nose itching with repressed giggles as she pulled the still open bottle toward her, the one that had originally caused the crystal to spin in such excited little circles with all the Life Force contained within. She lifted the crystal above the bottle and waited. And waited. She looked at Honeybee, and they waited together. Several other women were waiting too.

Nothing happened.

The crystal hung straight and still as a plumb line, and then Scarf Lady noticed. She looked aghast as she said, "What are you doing? Oh, what are you doing? What's happening?"

"Nothing," said Honeybee.

"But...but..."

Hardly able to speak, biting the inside of her cheek, Roberta said, "Well, ma'am, I'm sorry to say that whatever was in this bottle must have died."

"No, indeed. Not at all. That's pure nonsense."

Roberta saw Honeybee nod her head in agreement with that assessment, but Scarf Lady continued. "It's pure and utter nonsense. You just don't have a rapport with that crystal. You see, it's my crystal. Mine. For it to work for you, it would have to be repurified, and you'd have to wear it for at least three months so it could absorb your essence. Crystals are very discerning."

"Ah," said Roberta. "Of course."

Very soon thereafter, the class concluded. Probably a tad prematurely, Roberta, thought. She and Honeybee, whose name was really Gina, left together, and as soon as they passed around the corner they sagged against one of the lifeboats, laughing.

"Did you ever?" said Gina, blotting tears carefully so her mascara wouldn't smear.

"I almost peed myself."

"When that crystal didn't move..."

"Oh, my god!"

"Let's go see if the buffet's still open. Did you see that chocolate mousse?"

Nancy adjusted the waist of her shorts. Elastic. "Chocolate mousse? Oh, I couldn't."

"Of course you could. Just a little bite of mine." Gina hooked her arm, lightly freckled with sun damage from back in the days when nobody knew it was bad for them, through Roberta's, and together they strolled toward the buffet.

Roberta noticed Gina fiddling with a little amber bottle in her hand. "Did you get one? Really?

"Can't hurt." Gina shook it and held it up to the sun, squinting.

"What's it blended for? I mean, what quality?"

"Appreciation."

"Appreciation. Like, appreciation of...?"

"Chocolate mousse, what else?"

"Suppose it'd work for appreciation of other stuff, too?"

"Sure, hell, why not? Who knows? It just smells good to me. Try it," and she handed over the tiny vial.

Roberta saw Jack approaching from the back, uh, rear...no, the stern of the ship. She removed the stopper and sniffed. "Nice, really nice. I've always loved pretty smelly things -- I mean, things that smell pretty -- and this is nice. May I?"

Gina nodded.

Jack was just ten feet away as Roberta rubbed a little oil into the thin skin at her wrists and the hollow of her neck.

"What are you up to?" Jack asked as he approached, straw hat at a jaunty naval angle. "You look like you've been up to mischief. I know that expression."

"Just appreciation," Roberta said, purring in her throat as she waved her hands in front of him.

"Mmm, nice. Buy some, why don't you? What'd you say it's called?"

"Appreciation."

"Appreciation? Never heard of it. Nice, though. Makes me think of..." He paused, glanced from Roberta to Gina and back again. "Makes me think of things." He gave his Groucho imitation again and walked on toward the bow.

Roberta stood still and watched him. Then she returned the bottle to Gina, grabbed her arm, and dragged her toward the buffet. "I think I just scored. Let's score some chocolate mousse for you, Gina, and then maybe try to find where that rainbow woo-woo hides out. I think the silly goose might actually be on to something."