by Mary Cantell
He wants to see me? I thought he was married?
For the rest of the day, pleasant thoughts of Brian swirled in her head. As much as she tried to focus on her work, a mental picture of him kept popping up like an unruly child. Everyone in her extended family knew about Brian. Dropping his name so often over the years, they all were familiar with his story. Even her late husband Jason once remarked jokingly that if he went on an overseas tour with his unit and didn’t come back, she had his official permission to remarry. “Maybe you’ll get to marry Brian after all,” he once said with a wink.
There was no one who could replace her handsome husband, first lieutenant Jason Logan, though Brian Pickering would be a close second. Brian moved swiftly up the government ladder and became the Chief of Security at the Department of Defense in Washington, D.C. before he was thirty.
Her mind wandered back to Brian’s invitation. She didn’t want to seem too forward and give him the idea she was desperate, so she played it cool. She waited until the following day to write back and consulting her boss’s calendar, suggested the second Tuesday in April for their lunch date. Hopefully, by then the temperature would be warmer and the snow gone. A bubble of joy lifted in her heart at the thought of seeing him again and, like a giddy school girl, she floated her way through the rest of the day.
****
Whoosh…splat. The snowball landed squarely on the car window, nearly missing Lissa’s eye. She stiffened at the cold flecks of ice that bounced off the glass. There was barely any snow left, just the plowed remains piled at the edge of the shopping center’s parking lot. This late in the season, she didn’t think getting hit with a snowball would be possible, let alone so soon after coming to a new neighborhood. Was this the new hazing for those who just moved in? Greetings, and welcome to our fair town. Lovely.
The alarm of almost being blinded turned to anger, and she promptly swept ice crystals from her coat lapels. Her temperature rose, releasing a flush of warmth under her woolen scarf, and she whipped her head around to follow the trajectory of the snowball. In front of the grocery store, shoppers shuffled in and out, and a particular set of individuals captured her attention: a group of boys making a mad dash around the corner. Guilty. She wanted to catch up with them, but their speed gave them a leg up on her. It would be too difficult to confront them now, though one thing gave them away. A towheaded boy towered over the others. His platinum locks shone like a lighthouse beacon above his navy blue parka. She’d seen him before.
Lissa opened the car door and slid in, muttering under her breath. Stupid kids. Lacy huddled close to the window drawing a smiley face on the glass. “What happened, Mom?”
“Some boys up to no good, that’s all.” She checked her eye in the rearview mirror. “They almost knocked my eye out with a snowball.”
“Who were they?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure going to find out.”
Lissa let out a sigh and started the car. The image of a shabby white clapboard in need of a good coat of paint popped into her head. The house stuck out over the others as it looked more like the before picture on a street of afters. Lissa remembered the tall boy in the front yard standing by the open hood of an old yellow jalopy during her jog through the neighborhood not long after moving in. Loud metallic music blared from the car’s radio. If she hadn’t slipped on a patch of black ice in front of the house and landed on her backside, almost losing her shoe in the process, she probably wouldn’t have noticed him. How embarrassing, she had thought, hoping no one witnessed the incident.
Many of the homes on the neighboring streets featured prominent wrap-around porches and attracted her attention, and she especially loved the turrets. The residences reminded her of the great Victorian she stayed in one summer when working as a live-in nanny on Long Island right out of college.
“Before we go home, I’m going to make a stop,” Lissa said, gripping the wheel tightly and loosening her scarf with her free hand. Traces of adrenaline still coursed through her veins at the thought of the snowball smacking her face. Fortunately, she’d had her sunglasses on.
“Where are we going, Mom?”
“Not far,” she assured. Lissa kept her tone light and upbeat for the sake of her daughter. She knew Lacy was sensitive, never wanting to rock the boat or bring any conflict to a situation, and she wondered if this was the best thing to do in front of her. With her affable spirit, Lacy could make friends with anyone and would do so at any cost rather than make an enemy.
“I’m just going to speak to someone is all,” she said, hoping her own tension hadn’t spread to her daughter. She glanced back. “Nothing to be worried about,” she confirmed.
A mantle of snow coating the lawns showcased the neighborhood as crisply as a real estate brochure, rendering each of the houses a distinctive charm. Lissa canvassed a two-block area, trying to recall how to get to the house that loomed in her mind’s eye. It was likely within a quarter to a half-mile away from her rental on Bellevue Avenue and somewhere along the jogging route she randomly chose for herself that wouldn’t be too long or too strenuous to run.
Lissa drove toward Gallatin Street where charming Victorians stretched for most of the street. She turned at the third block onto Victoria Lane. There. She spotted the imposing presence on the corner and slowed the car. Overgrown bushes loomed below the windows like curious onlookers eager to peer inside. A dusting of snow still covered some of the eaves, but the turret rose cleanly into the cold blue sky. An eerie vibe came from it, and she thought twice whether to follow through on her initial plan. A shiver ran through her.
She pulled to the curb across from a dilapidated picket fence. The mailbox hung precariously and appeared weighted under a large chunk of partially melted ice, rendering the worn letters stenciled in black barely legible. The visible ones spelled ELLING. There sat the old yellow car in the driveway, the one she first noticed the time she came this way before. A rush of guilt hit at the prospect of ratting out the boy, but he looked old enough to have known better and that he could have taken out someone’s eye.
“Wait here, honey, I’ll be right back.” She glanced back to her daughter, who bore a worried expression.
Back in the car, Lissa shared what happened. “I spoke with his mother, and I explained to her the seriousness of the boy’s actions. Throwing a snowball into someone’s face is never good.” Lissa hoped her words conveyed a lesson. “But it’s all settled now.” She turned on the engine. “Hey, I don’t know about you, but I’m in the mood for a nice grilled cheese and a hot cup of tomato soup for lunch when we get home,” she said to Lacy, who had her nosed pressed up against the window. “That house looks spooky,” Lacy said as they pulled away.
Casting a glance over the snow covered lawn, she couldn’t help but agree with her daughter. The house was off-putting. A chill ran through her.
Chapter Five
Just before eight a.m., the main drag in the heart of downtown Gaithersburg bloated like an over-packed parking lot. Lissa’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel in frustration. A sallow face in the harsh outdoor light framed by a mane of hair that lent more to burnt sienna than the preferable chestnut red stared back at her from the rearview mirror. Do-it-yourself hair coloring was cheap, but now she regretted not spending the extra money on a professional application. She flinched at the sight of gray hairs sprouting along her widow’s peak. Lord, I’m only thirty-four. Frustrated, she released her grip on the wheel and reached for the Starbucks coffee cup and downed a sip. She closed her eyes for a brief second waiting for the caffeine jolt to do its magic.
As if a good omen, the car in front of her moved. She coasted ten feet when the New Jersey driver ahead of her slowed again. She jammed her foot on the brake and let out a pointed sigh. Oh, for Pete’s sake, go already. Her last vacation at the Jersey shore came to mind where her most pressing issue was finding the misplaced suntan lotion cap or deciding on pizza or sushi for lunch. Then her thoughts quickly turned to pristine
Bermuda with its pink sand and turquoise water…if only she had the money. Lacy’s private school tuition consumed most of her expendable income, so that vacation wouldn’t be happening any time soon.
Up ahead, something flashed in the distance. Lissa placed the lipstick-stained cup back into the holder when the jarring scream of an ambulance from somewhere behind jolted her. In the momentary distraction, some coffee splashed out and scalded her hand, leaving a tan puddle on the console.
“Ooooouuuucch,” she said, in pain from the sting of hot coffee; she quickly grabbed a tissue to mop up the spill.
“Looks like an accident, Mom,” Lacy said, craning her neck to see out the window. The queue of cars ahead stretched in a snaking sea of brake lights as far as she could see.
“It probably is,” she said, annoyed, and quickly switched the radio station from soft rock to the all news station to catch a traffic report.
“Can we listen to the music station?” Lacy whined from the back seat.
“Shhh,” Lissa said, waving her hand, irritably. “The traffic report is coming up.”
“Sorry,” the child replied softly and slunk back into her seat. “But I’d rather hear music.”
“So would I, Lace,” she said, wiping the console crevice, irked at knowing some coffee leaked below where she couldn’t reach. “But we need to hear the traffic report. And put your seatbelt on please.” Lissa’s ears perked when the reporter mentioned a serious problem. She stopped wiping long enough to catch the mention of a collision involving a trash truck on Franklin Avenue at Crescent Lane, a few blocks from Lacy’s school. “Oh, great,” she said under her breath. “Of all the days.” Today was her date with Brian, and she had a report to finish as well as a meeting to attend, all before 11:30 a.m.—the time she hoped to skip out early to make it to the restaurant in time.
Storefronts lining the hub of the downtown business district brightened in the early light like awakened sleepy eyes. Janelle’s Day Spa, La Patisserie, and La Bella Moda nestled side-by-side among a health food store and a flower shop. A few clothing boutiques featured headless mannequins wearing the latest cutting-edge fashion she couldn’t afford. Too often, Lissa whisked through this part of town to and from work leaving the kitschy shops and boutiques behind in a sweeping blur. Being a single mother rarely lent itself to taking in the scenery or spending extra money. She downed the last dregs of coffee as the molasses of cars ahead inched forward. Finally. She pressed her foot to the pedal and glanced at the LED clock on the dashboard. Only ten minutes late.
Lissa pulled around the murky green pond to the front entrance of Gaithers Country Day School, which also served as a day camp during the summer. The winding granite stairway leading into the sprawling institution that once served as an old Revolutionary War-era enclave stretched like an oversized accordion. Giant shade trees stood at allegiance as they flanked the three-story stone mansion in the shadows.
“All right, have a good day,” she said to Lacy, who opened the door and promptly flew out. Her I love you met with the slam of the car door.
She watched her daughter happily bounce down the sidewalk in her new shorts and sneakers. Where the child picked up the spritely style of walking with an overt spring in her heel was anyone’s guess. She rolled down the window. “I’ll pick you up after school at the usual time and place, okay?”
“’Kay, mom,” Lacy called back. Her hair, held off her face with Little Princess clips, shone like a wave of pennies in the early morning light.
Lissa waited until the child made her way safely up the steps and into the shadowy alcove leading to the big red front door. The child was her world and she would do anything to keep it whole.
****
Lissa stepped into the marble-floored atrium of the Liberty building in downtown Gaithersburg and entered the waiting elevator. She checked her reflection in the elevator’s mirrored ceiling and adjusted her angled bangs that fell haphazardly across her forehead. She liked the new look her stylist gave her, but it was hard to get it to stay nice. The muted ping of the elevator signaled its arrival, and she took a deep breath before exiting. She swept into her workspace, flipped on the computer, and peeked above the cubicle wall into her boss’s office. His balding head shone in the desk lamp. She let out the air she’d been holding, relieved he hadn’t noticed her lateness.
A check of her inbox revealed several junk mail notices and, fortunately, nothing important pending. As she went through general office tasks—typing a memo, filing a truckload of reports, and ordering the monthly office supplies—the butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t quit; the date with Brian kept her buzzed with anticipation.
During the departmental meeting, she glanced at the clock, counting the minutes until she could leave. It was nearly quarter past eleven and her boss droned on. She sent up a silent prayer the meeting wouldn’t go over and glanced at the clock again. The time dragged. Only two minutes passed. She needed to be on the road in ten minutes. A watched clock doesn’t tick, is that it? Like a watched pot never boils. Okay, she’d ignore the clock. Her palms now moist, she wiped them on her skirt. Tick, tick, tick, she was aware of the time on the clock but tried to stem her obsession of having to check every other second. Instead of checking every few seconds, she played a game of trying to guess what time it was and vowed not to look until at least a minute had gone by. Eleven twenty-one…eleven twenty-two? She snuck another peek at the clock. Eleven twenty-seven. She’d wanted to leave by eleven twenty-five. Already late, a wave of anxiety swept through as she bolted out of her seat and made a beeline for the elevator.
****
Stuck behind a bus puffing out gray exhaust fumes, Lissa held her breath as long as she could to keep from inhaling the acrid odor that managed to seep into the car. Who knew how many carcinogens she’d inhaled over the years? Now that she was conscious of the dangers, she avoided them as best she could. Running late, the traffic in front of her managed to slow down to a turtle’s pace. Apparently, this was a phenomenon in rural towns as well as big cities. Lissa tried to merge into the faster moving lane but without any luck. A big utility vehicle sat in the lane next to her chugging a putrid scent of diesel fuel. She bit her lip. Oh, brother, come on. Her insides twirled nervously like a ball of yarn slowly unraveling.
The last time she saw Brian was fifteen years ago, and only briefly at the impromptu meeting outside of his house the day her college friend Deb Atkins took her to Pinewood during spring break. He carried a hefty weight back then and she pictured what he might look like now. Still a towhead? Gained more pounds? It didn’t matter, really. Her feelings for him overrode anything external. The serendipity of him walking up the sidewalk to his house just as they drove down his street left her glowing. “Maybe, we’ll see each other in another decade or two,” had been just her clever throwaway line for conversation’s sake. Who knew those words would actually come true?
By seven minutes to noon, Lissa turned onto Battalion Street. She still had a few minutes to find the restaurant. Another three blocks down stood the train station, and she was relieved seeing The Train Stop restaurant next door.
She pulled into the parking lot and spotted a decent spot farther down by the bus depot. Nervous perspiration gathered under her arms. She grabbed a tissue and blotted up the excess moisture and then peered into the rearview mirror to study her face. Her skin looked fairly clear except for one blemish in the middle of her forehead. She cringed at how makeup didn’t quite cover it perfectly with the moisture from the humidity now slipping the makeup off. She rummaged through her makeup kit for the beige concealer and reapplied the smooth liquid in layers, patting it in place with her ring finger. Gray hair and acne. How lucky could a girl get? After checking her face again, she swooshed on a layer of rose lipstick, blotted it with a fresh tissue, and stepped out of the car with a minute to spare.
A few people gathered on the station platform adjacent to the restaurant. A teenage boy wearing a backpack lingered by the tracks; he stood a
little too close for comfort, and Lissa thought about pulling him back by one of the straps. Today, people would think that too intrusive or worse, some kind of an attack. She dismissed the notion. An elderly woman sat perch-like on a bench with her hand resting on a black cane, and two twenty-somethings huddled together—one of them apparently dishing something humorous amid the other’s high-pitched squeals of laughter.
Turning toward the restaurant adjacent to the station, she wondered if Brian were already inside. She hated waiting—for anything. Is he coming or am I going to be stood up? She paced ten steps and then turned around to pace back. A heavy metal scent permeated the platform, and the marina blue sky was quickly paling to white. Oddly, something wasn’t right, and Lissa had the surreal sense of someone watching her. Was Brian in the restaurant checking her out ahead of time? She turned around and continued pacing. Then in the distance, a male figure in a dark suit came walking from the opposite end of the tracks. Is that him? It must be. Her heart went from a nervous fluttering to a thumping overdrive. As the figure got closer, his face broke into a broad smile. Brian.
“Hey,” she called and raised her hand in a girly wave. Wow, he cleans up well. Nice suit.
“Look at you,” Brian replied and swept her into his arms.
The moment she heard his voice, the coil inside her slowly unwound and the tension eased.
“You look great,” he said, charming her with his perfect smile and sparkling blue eyes.
“You, too,” she gushed. “It’s so good to see you after all these years.”
His sandy hair grayed a bit at the temples, and though some creases sprouted around his eyes, his boyish handsomeness still shone through. He’d lost his baby fat and dressed in his sharp clothes, he resembled a high-end suit model. His woodsy cologne, intoxicating.
In the buttery yellow light of the cozy restaurant, Brian and Lissa settled into a corner booth in the caboose room of the train-themed eatery. Between the clanging of silverware and the piped-in jazz music, along with the other patron’s voices bouncing off the hardwood floors, she wished for a more private location to hear his soft-spoken voice. The boisterous women two tables down drowned him out. Certainly, she wanted him all to herself.