by Judy Fischer
“I’ll be leaving around 12:30,” I said firmly.
“I’ll meet you at the car,” Michael said nonchalantly.
Nobody paid attention to the exchange of words between Michael and me. As our secret was still intact, I was the only one who felt awkward by the situation. It had not been a subconscious effort to get him alone, I really don’t believe so. I honestly thought Sheila and Sally were the ones who would ultimately sign up for the free ride to town.
I went about my post-breakfast duties and as soon as Irma gave me the heads up, I went to shower and prepare for my trip to Hampton. She did, however, give me a short list, on my way out, of some last-minute items she needed me to pick up for her.
Michael was standing by the Rover, waiting for me, and I knew I would have a tough time putting him at bay. He had an impatient look pasted on his face, anxious and ready for some alone time with me. I hated to be rude and when I turned away from him, it was an unexpected blow to his ego, but I needed to be in a unique frame of mind to be able to unload my anxieties to Father Williams. I knew in advance that being alone with me in the car was going to bring out Michael’s friskiness and he was sure to expect a positive reaction from me, for good reason. I had led him on in thinking I enjoyed his caresses. I had, and I still did, but I could not accept them on that day.
We got settled into the car and I drove off in a flash.
“Michael, please be on your best behaviour. I have a terrible headache and I need to concentrate on my driving,” I gave him those two excuses and hoped he would respect both. We drove in silence for a while when I guess he could no longer stay quiet.
“Missy, have I offended or hurt you in some way?”
“Michael, this is not about you. I am about to meet with someone in town and I am a little nervous about it,” I was willing to give him that much information to give him peace of mind.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I hoped you were giving us a chance to be alone. How presumptuous of me,” he said in a defeated way.
“Michael, don’t take this personally, please. I am not trying to hurt you. Maybe I should have just come alone,” I finally said.
“I really don’t have anything to do in town,” he confessed.
“I have an errand for you to keep you busy while I go to my meeting, if you don’t mind.”
“Good, I’ll do that. Will you be long?”
“No, I have to get back home by five. When I finish, I’ll meet you back at the same place where I will drop you off. Have a coffee on me if I take longer than it takes for you to do the errand. Thank you, Michael, you are one heck of a guy. You made this easier than I anticipated.”
“I’d do anything for you, Missy,” he said in his oh-so-sweet voice.
By the time all the drama during the drive had come to a good place, we arrived at our destination and I drove up to the front door of the grocery store, dropping Michael off. With the list in his hands and the money in his pocket, I left him there and drove away to the Café Du Monde. The coffee shop was approximately two to three blocks north of the grocery outlet.
It was not a busy day and the tourists were probably already at the beach or gathered in the local restaurants, of which there were many in the area. I parked the Rover into a safe parking space; I was always weary of other drivers scratching the car when they exited their own vehicles carelessly. As it wasn’t my car, I felt more responsible than had it been my own beat-up sedan.
Irma gave me a brief description of Father Williams, but as I walked into the café, I couldn’t spot anyone having the same description she had given me. There was only one male, sitting alone at a table, but he absolutely didn’t fit the profile of a spiritual leader. He was a handsome man, appearing to be in his early 40s, with dark brown hair and a smile that could have seduced any woman crossing his path, young or old. He turned toward me and stood up.
“Missy?” he said my name in a voice I would have followed anywhere. Mellow and inviting.
“Yes, I’m Missy.”
“Please join me,” he pointed to the empty chair beside him.
I walked over keeping my eyes aimed only at his gentle and calming expression. I usually didn’t take to strangers easily, but there was something about Father Williams that made getting to know him so inviting. I sat down and immediately felt comfortable in his presence. We shook hands, but all I really wanted to do was to hug him, not as a man, but as a good friend.
“Irma told me a little bit about you, Missy. I would like to help you if you will trust me. Please call me Oliver, not Father Williams,” he said.
Oliver had chosen a table which was not in direct line with the possible traffic in the café; however, there was not a soul in there when I walked in. A young woman wearing a white apron and a hairnet on her dark short hair brought two mugs of the famous coffee to our table. She also placed down a separate plate with sugar and milk. As she walked away, I turned to Oliver and thanked him for ordering the coffee. It took a few seconds for me to start talking. I had to think of how to start the conversation, a conversation in which René was the main subject. I had always enjoyed talking and thinking about René. After all, he was my favourite person. Bringing up a sensitive issue, however, was not something I was looking forward to doing.
“Oliver, thank you for letting me call you by your given name. It makes me feel somewhat closer to you, although you are a stranger to me. I have never confided in anyone until I met Irma. She was the first person who had looked into my soul and detected I had a problem in my relationship with the young man with whom I arrived into her life. For more than two years, I had kept him a secret from my parents and from everyone who I knew. It was not out of shame that I hid him, it was more because I wanted to protect him from the world because of the terrible ordeal he was subjected to in his young life. You see, he lost his whole family tragically and found himself on the streets of Montreal, homeless and without a friend in the world. Our paths crossed by chance and I helped him to survive the winter by giving him a place to live and by giving him scraps to eat. I helped him out of compassion toward a fellow human being. Slowly, with time and familiarity, I fell in love with him but even though I knew he loved me, it was not the kind of love I wanted in return for mine.” I took a breath, surprised at my own openness.
“I see. Did he ever tell you how he feels about you?” he asked as his first question.
“Sure, he has said ‘I love you’ many times. I say that to people too, but it doesn’t mean that he ‘loves’ me like I love him,” I said as I started to feel my heart beating faster.
“We all love in different ways and love is a complex emotion with many façades. Are you looking for a romantic love with René?”
“That is how I love him, Oliver, with passion and lust,” I had to be as honest as I could be. I started to sweat and the hot flush on my face became almost unbearable.
“What if the love he can offer you will never match yours?” Oliver asked with a sincere curiosity.
“I don’t know. I love him as a good friend too, but I did hope for a romantic relationship. I hoped he could love me like a man loves a woman.”
“Has he ever shown you he could love you that way?”
“Once recently, but he had too much to drink; the ambiance was perfect, and I was very flirtatious.”
“How did you react? Did you give in to his advances?”
“No, I stopped because I didn’t want him to wake up the next morning not remembering his actions. I want him to love me like that, without being under the effects of alcohol,” I said sadly.
“Maybe, Missy, he can’t. Maybe his past life experiences have extinguished those kinds of abilities. Perhaps, he has other issues. Do you understand?”
“Well, I know he was abused sexually by men and women who had taken advantage of his plight. He needed money to survive on the streets. I know that it had broken his spirit. I met him under those conditions,” tears started streaming down from my eyes and I looked for
a napkin to wipe them away.
Father Williams got up from the table and went to get some napkins from the main counter. I watched him walking away from our table and I saw a man who had understood my story in a way no one had ever could. I started to feel a certain fondness toward him I cannot explain. He had, in that brief time, become my confessor, my idol, my friend and, I hoped, my saviour. His questions opened my eyes to a reality I had been ignoring or was blinded by.
“Missy, let’s talk some more but not today. I want you to reflect on our conversation and when we meet again, you will have some questions for me. I know that, I have done this before. You cannot find solutions after one meeting,” he said.
“Thank you, I believe you have helped me already,” I said.
“We will work this out for you, Missy. Maybe I can meet with René at some point soon. I would like to help him too. I think he could benefit from talking as well.”
“I think so too, I hope he will. I know he would feel as comfortable with you as I have. Thank you.”
“I am going to visit Irma in a few days, maybe we could slip away and have a private moment at their place.”
“That sounds fine to me. Thank you again, Oliver. You have been a godsend.”
“Nice pun, Missy,” he laughed.
I smiled, not intending to be disrespectful or funny, for that matter.
When I stood up, I gave him a hug, I needed to feel the closeness of his body to validate the bond he had created between us. He returned the favour by squeezing me even closer to himself, more than I dared to do.
Dilemma
Michael and I arrived back at the property before 4:30 that afternoon, without any unnecessary insensitivities or unintentional rejections during our return drive. I was lost in my thoughts about my talk with Father Williams. The profound probe into my personal dilemma had totally unnerved me and I was still reeling from it when I picked up Michael. He must have felt it or seen it on my face, because he didn’t say much to me on the drive home, which only lasted 30 minutes from the time we left the city limits until we parked the Rover into its regular spot.
“Sorry, Michael. I wasn’t good company.”
“I understand, Missy, you had many things on your mind. I’ve been through stuff like that, myself,” he said to me as we got out of the car. I didn’t pay any attention to his remarks. Absentminded and stuck in a dark place, I brushed off his words with careless inconsideration.
“I’ll see you at dinner. Be a dear and bring the groceries to the kitchen for me. I must rush to change and join Irma in the kitchen,” and without thinking, I blew him a kiss through the air and then ran toward my own quarters.
I felt a jolt of shame because I didn’t take Michael’s feelings into account, I turned my back on his obvious crush on me. I was so engrossed in my own problems I lost all sight of his. Usually, I was a sensitive person, more sensitive than I was that day. However, the day still had many open hours when making it up to Michael was still possible.
When I finally joined Irma at the main house, I thanked her for having referred Oliver to me. I told her how much I had liked his genuine concern and helpful suggestions.
“He is a gentle soul, Irma. I can’t believe how effortless the whole conversation went. I felt so soothed after, even though the subject was not an easy one to share. I can hardly wait to see him again.”
“Well, he’s coming for dinner next week, you can steal him away after dinner for a private heart-to-heart.”
“Yes, he told me about your kind invitation.”
“Fred and I have him over quite often. He is our pastor, but he is more of a friend. We always enjoy his visits.”
“I am not surprised. He is quite a man.”
The dinner was ready by seven, at which time, the members of the Roberts family were already sitting in the main dining room. A sudden and severe storm had developed, putting an abrupt end to the initial plan to eat outdoors. The patio was the preferred location for the evening meals. Dusk always provided the perfect lighting and Fred didn’t have to turn on the outdoor lights. A few candles on the table gave the dining area that picture-perfect setting. But not that evening. Everyone sat inside pouting and the expressions on their faces were showing the understandable disappointment. Sally kept looking outside, hoping the rain would stop.
The mood was not a happy one, there was a morose silence in the room while we ate. Even David and Sheila were unusually quiet.
As the storm raged around us, one by one, everyone left reluctantly after dinner. There were a few umbrellas by the front door and they all disappeared. As there was not much to do after dinner, everyone dispersed and returned to the solitude of their own spaces. I stayed to help with the usual after-dinner chores and then I too returned to my place.
The day’s events had set the type of mood perfect for continuing my novel. After starting up the gas fireplace, I sat in the most comfortable chair and resumed where I left off. The words spilled out of me without effort and the time passed went unnoticed until I heard a very dull knocking on my door. I wasn’t sure it was a knock because I heard the rain beating heavily on the rooftop; however, I did get up to see.
I opened the door and there was Michael holding a big black umbrella. The rain was pouring so heavily the umbrella had barely kept the rain from completely soaking him. He looked to be dejected and beaten.
“Michael, come in, come in,” I grabbed his jacket’s lapel and pulled his wet body out of the rain and closed the door right behind him. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“I had to see you, Missy. I am sorry to disturb you,” he apologized profusely.
“You are not disturbing me, but this visit is unusual. You have never come over. I don’t know if we should be doing this,” I said, feeling guilty. No one had ever set rules for fraternizing with the guests, and this sort of situation had never been an issue. I knew if anyone had seen Michael coming into my private quarters, there would be all sorts of gossip, or worse.
I turned off all the lights. I was not setting a romantic mood; on the contrary, I turned them off to make sure no one could see us in case they were looking toward my cottage. I didn’t want to throw him out either. I had been everything but kind to him that day. I felt an obligation to be civil.
I sent him into the bathroom to dry up. He returned wearing René’s bathrobe, making him look as if he belonged there, in my house. There was an awkward moment between us and I didn’t know what to do. My heart went out to him, he was probably feeling the same way as I had around René in the days before he left. I had tried to reach out in a loving way, only to be rejected, day after day.
“Michael, sit down,” I finally said.
He moved over to the fireplace and sank down into an armchair facing it. I guess my approach to his arrival had sent him the wrong message. He probably thought he should stay as far away from me as he could. I wanted to go over to him and give him a hug to erase any hurt I may have caused. I knew about one-sided love. It was the worst emotion a person could feel. I didn’t want that for Michael, but I didn’t want to send him any reckless and dishonest messages either.
“Michael, what is it that you feel toward me? Don’t be shy, tell me.”
“I love you, Missy.”
“But we have only known each other a short time. You hardly know me.”
“I know, it’s crazy, right?” he sounded so embarrassed.
“I guess it’s hard to control how we feel. I am just not able to return your kind feelings, Michael. I like you very much and we have had some precious moments. I liked kissing you, you brought out something in me I craved badly. But, Michael, I cannot be what you want me to be. I am so sorry.”
I watched his reaction but there were only tears. I felt so sad for us. I started to cry too. I took him into my arms and we stayed in that position for a while before he stood up and went to the bathroom to retrieve his jacket.
“I’m sorry, Missy. I meant no harm,” he walked out into the ra
in, leaving the umbrella standing by the door.
There was no mood left for writing, it took every ounce of my energy to stop myself from running after him. I regretted ever allowing him to kiss me on that first day on the sandbar. I hoped someone in his family could give him a shoulder to lean on and some words to lift his spirits. I had not noticed the dynamics of his family’s relationships, so I didn’t know if he could find a sympathetic ear. I hoped and prayed that he could.
I went to sleep late that night, thinking both of René and Michael. I wondered if René had found his calling in life and if he was missing me. Then I thought again of Michael and I wondered where his life was going to lead him now that I had refused his love.
I slept through the night with many nightmares that kept me tossing and turning. The storm lasted through until the early hours of the next day, the rain pounding heavily. I heard the sound of the angry sea thrashing the surf against the shore. When I finally awoke at daybreak, it was to the sound of the surf hitting the shores. The tide was high and rough from the previous night’s raging storm. It had passed but left behind remnants of its merciless force.
Irma came to knock on my door just as I came out of the shower. The hot water running down my body gave me some relief from the previous night’s agonies: Michael and the storm.
“Missy, come, Larry and René are on the phone.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I grabbed my jeans and put them on quickly and ran up to the main house. The cottages were not hooked up to the phone lines and so calling or receiving calls was only possible in the Andersons’ house. When I arrived, Irma was talking to Larry. She then handed the phone over to me.
“Missy? How are you, I miss seeing your beautiful face. We are in Toronto now. We will be loading soon and then we will leave after a few days of rest.”
“I miss you too, René. It’s not the same without you. Hurry back.”