The Yeti Rings Twice
IT STARTED OUT WITH AN EPISODE of In Search Of.. starring the post-Spock Leonard Nimoy.
For the most part, my impressionable mind was fascinated by but ultimately unimpressed by the myths of the Loch Ness Monster and Bigfoot and the plethora of UFO abductions. Crop Circles? Nah.
But the Yeti? Something about the Yeti took hold of my imagination and drove me in an obsessive sort of way. I understood the Yeti—a creature of solitude, the only one of his kind, destined to roam the planet with no companionship but his thoughts and his passions. Sure, I held down a solid job and had a relatively stable social life. Late at night, however, I could be found pouring through Ancient Texts I had procured through eBay and huge tomes of newspaper clippings, some so yellow and old touching them felt almost destructive, all detailing hints at the existence of The Abominable Snowman, The Yeti.
The scientific community generally regards the Yeti as a legend, given the lack of conclusive evidence, but it remains one of the most famous creatures of cryptozoology. Analysis of samples associated with claimed yetis found a sequence of mitochondrial DNA that matched a sample from an ancient polar bear jawbone found in Norway, that dates back to between 40,000 and 120,000 years ago.
Once in a while, I'd let someone close to me know about my compulsion to find him. Inevitably, these friends became distant almost immediately and I could catch a whiff of alarmed pity when I'd see them in the hallway or the cafeteria at work. So I stopped telling people about him. My search was to be a lonely one. Like the Yeti himself. I was resigned to this reality.
Then my life changed.
Having just returned from my fifteenth trip to Nepal (and fresh out of any more vacation days for the fiscal), I went to stick the key into my apartment door only to find the door both unlocked and slightly ajar.
I entered the hallway and caught the distinct smell of cinnamon and cherry pipe tobacco. I followed the scent and smoke slowly and turned the corner like a spy in a movie. In my living room chair sat a huge monster of a man, fully eight feet tall and covered from head to toe in blinding white fur—like Sully from Monsters, Inc complete with the jaw filled with razor sharp fangs. He was smoking a calabash pipe and it seemed he had completely emptied my refrigerator prior to lighting up.
"You've been looking for me, have you?"
I was stunned into silence as if my lips were glued shut.
"Does it speak?"
He sounded like...
"Sam Elliot...?" I stammered out.
"No. Yes—he sounds like me but no. I am the Yeti."
"Y-y-you aren't real...?"
"You don't believe I exist? After spending all of your expendable time looking for me? Are you stupid? Perhaps brain damaged? If I am not real, who ate your leftover chicken pot pie?"
I saw him. In my chair. I heard him. I smelled him. But my mind was working furiously to comprehend the reality of his existence.
"Why...?"
"Why you? Why now? Lots of people have been searching for me and I've become expert at obfuscation. I know exactly how to make myself blurry when I sense a photo being taken. But you are different. You seem to think I'm lonely and lost. You are the lonely one in this equation and such loneliness in pursuit of a Grail is hard to miss.
I am supposed to be alone. It is my destiny. You, on the other hand, are not. You are not of my kind. You are supposed to live and laugh and love. Your capacity for love is your greatest gift and you are squandering that gift. Even a Yeti can see this, that you give that love to those unworthy of it or without a similar capacity is a tragedy."
"I don't know what to say."
"Say nothing. Just listen. The Yeti doesn't show himself to just anyone.
“Here's the deal, kid. One day you will find her. You won't be looking for her. She will, like the Yeti, appear and you will know. When she does, do not waffle. Make room for her—there is a gaping hole inside you that is hers to fill. Give her your everything—love her, protect her, listen to her. Endeavor every day from that moment on to let her know she is The One. Got it?"
"How will I know it's her?"
"How the hell should I know? I'm a freaking Yeti, remember? I dated a Unicorn once about two hundred years ago. It didn't go well. No females of my kind around so I'm fairly limited on that sort of thing. Suffice it to say, you'll just...know, OK?"
I nodded numbly.
"Thanks for the grub. The pineapple was a nice touch."
And he reached into his fur and pulled out a tiny box. His giant paw gingerly placed it in my hand and he stood, all eight feet and bared his massive fangs.
"This is not for you. This is for her."
As he left the apartment, I swear he seemed blurry...
✶
Two weeks later, just like the Yeti predicted, I found her. I wasn't looking but there she was. I was blinded by her beauty, by her laugh, by her punk rock attitude. I was knocked out by her paintings. She was an artist in that 'fuck the world, I gotta make this art' sort of way.
I asked her to go to lunch. I could barely eat. We kissed after and I was sold. The Yeti was right. I could not waffle. A week later, I gave her the box. We sat on the floor of the room she was squatting in, rent free, in the house of a hoarder and I told her the story of the Yeti. She opened the box and there was an engagement ring. She put it on her finger.
We each went out and bought wedding bands. We agreed to keep them secret from one another until the wedding day.
One night, in the car, in the rain, she looked at me with impish glee.
"I'm sorry. I cheated on you."
"What? How? Was it your ex?"
She laughed. "No, idiot. I looked at the rings! God, the look on your face!"
Two months passed and we married. I could tell right away that I wasn't her type—like her art, she preferred to find the materials from stuff other people discarded. She found beauty from the trash. I wasn't found, I found her. Just like the Yeti foretold.
“We’re married. Now we can get to know each other.”
Easier said than done. I was set in my bachelor ways and she was prone to huge mood swings and either wept uncontrollably or said awful things that she then would apologize for later.
"Oh my god. Look at me! I'm married to an old, fat guy with horrible teeth!"
"Your cock is just so average. I'm used to much larger."
"You're so controlling! I want to be out and meet people. I can't imagine talking to you for more than a few minutes, you blowhard!"
Love her, protect her, listen to her. Endeavor every day from that moment on to let her know she is The One. The words of the Yeti reverberated in these moments. How could he be wrong?
Years passed. The thing evolved and the love was obvious to anyone who had eyes. We developed rules for our marriage. She never owed me an apology unless she was mean to me. She only accepted gifts she asked for—when she was surprised by a present, it often found itself dumped in an alley—so I only got her things she requested. I learned to speak softly and try not to interrupt her. She would go out and come home with food and things she'd found in the garbage and I'd laugh and support her 'urban foraging.'
The rough edges smoothed out. He was happy and felt she was, too. They laughed a lot. They were affectionate and kind to each other. The contention of those first years were past them. “How’s married life?” Really, really good.
Then one day she sat down without ceremony and declared "I'm bored. I'm leaving." And she left.
✶
Last night I came home and smelled that cinnamon and cherry pipe tobacco wafting in the air.
"How's it going, kid?"
"Fuck you."
"Fuck ME? Fuck you!"
"No. Fuck YOU!"
"Fuck YOU!" The Yeti rose to his full height and growled, his rows of teeth bared.
"Tell me about the unicorn. The one you dated but didn't work out." I said.
"What? Well, she and I were of completely different species. Unicorns aren't built for relationships, it turns out. Why?"
"You were wrong, dude. I found her, I loved her, I did everything you said I should do and she left because she was bored."
"C'mon. I only told you what you wanted to hear. I mean, you realize I'm not real, right? I'm just a figment of your over-active imagination. I wasn't wrong because I'm inside your head, boy. You're the Yeti.
"You were lonely and needed a push so you gave yourself one. Yetis and Unicorns will never stay together long. 'Your capacity for love is your greatest gift and you are squandering that gift. Even a Yeti can see this, that you give that love to those unworthy of it or without a similar capacity is a tragedy.' What a bunch of self serving, victimized horseshit.
"The signs were right in front of you the whole time. Her boredom with a married life was inevitable and somewhere, deep inside of you, you knew that. Despite the ending, can't you admit the journey was kind of magical? Isn't that what magic and myth is? The miracle of the improbable like a Yeti marrying a Unicorn?"
"What am I supposed to do now?"
"You're asking me? How should I know?"
"Fair point."
"As for advice, I'd say maybe not trust the word of your own romantic fantasy. You're already prone to flights of fancy, of seeing yourself as the protagonist in a Dickens novel, so maybe dial some of that down. Perhaps a man married and divorced three times should give it a rest and learn to just be by himself. Unicorns are brilliant and lovely because they don't actually exist.
"While leaping without looking is exciting, it's only fun when you're lucky enough to land rather than crash. Maybe you're learning that instead of being special in your ability to jump into the void and come out winning, it was all just luck. And luck runs out."
"Yeah. Maybe. I'm sorry I said fuck you."
"No you're not. You're really just angry at yourself. You did your best. You failed. It happens."
