The Shoebox

by Lisa Fernandez

  Sheila took a quick breath. “You told her?”

  “No, I couldn’t because of her father.” He couldn’t stop staring at the pen as it spun.

  “Well! That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  “Mom, you know what I want.” Peter dropped the pen and buried his face in his hands. “I want to turn back time. I want to be with Maddy, to have been with her all these years. To never have met Tara, not to feel responsible for her feelings and have to comfort and be with her, not to have to find a way to resolve this with her under these circumstances, when what I really want is to hop on a plane and go straight to Colorado.” Peter ran his hand over his head, his face crumpling. “That’s what I want.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. After a moment, Sheila’s voice came through thinly. “Peter, I have something I want to say to you. I don’t know how you’re going to take it or if you’re going to understand. I know I’m going to regret the pain it causes you. But your father and I have agreed it’s time.”

  “What is it?” Peter brushed his hair back and wrapped his fingers through the curling phone cord.

  “It’s not easy being a parent, making decisions and trying to protect your children. You’ll see someday when you have kids of your own.”

  “Mom, you’re scaring me. Could you just say it? Please.”

  “Ann Marsden wrote to us.”

  Peter dropped the phone cord and sat up. “Just now? After all these years?”

  “In 1966. A few months after they moved away.”

  “What?” His hand trembled on the phone.

  “She told me what had happened to Maddy. That she’d had some kind of tumor in her eyes that left her blind and there was a strong possibility she might never see again.”

  Peter gripped the edge of his desk. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did they tell you not to?”

  “No. But she did say Madeline didn’t know she was writing. According to her, Maddy didn’t want you to know.”

  “What are you talking about?” Peter’s face was covered with sweat. “Why wouldn’t she want me to know?”

  “I guess she was scared.”

  “Of what? Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Your father and I—”

  “ ‘Your father and I’ what?” Peter stared wildly around the room, at the glass walls, at the exposed industrial pipes and ducts overhead, at the great, shadowy space with its dignity and grandeur and unspoken history. “What could possibly be a good enough reason to keep something so important from me? About the woman I loved?”

  “We didn’t want you to be hurt.”

  Peter exhaled hard, his hand flat on his desk. He paused, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling. “How would I have gotten hurt?”

  “We were worried you would follow her to Colorado and get lost in it. That you would forget everything else, being an architect, grad school. If you had dropped out of school you could have been drafted. Honey, it was the middle of the Vietnam War! We would have died if anything had happened to you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Peter stood to pace and kicked his chair backward into the wall. He dragged the phone cord after him as he strode back and forth behind his desk. “It was my life, my decision! It wasn’t for you to make—”

  “I know that, son.”

  “All the times I spent thinking what could I have possibly done to lose the greatest thing I’d ever had—” He stopped, clenching his fist helplessly on the desktop.

  “It was the decision we made.”

  “Oh, my God,” Peter groaned from the depths of his chest. “Who gave you that right? I wasn’t a boy who didn’t know what I wanted. I was a man. Maddy was a woman.”

  “You had dreams of being an architect, sweetheart and look what you’ve accomplished now.”

  “Maddy had dreams, too! She wanted to be an artist. We had dreams together—”

  “Believe me, I know it’s hard.” Sheila’s voice was small. “And we do regret it. We kept waiting for the right time to tell you, and it just never came. I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s all you can say? ‘I’m sorry’?” Peter tried to turn and sat unexpectedly in his chair where he had run into it directly behind his knees. He pulled it away from the wall and rested his elbows on his desk, the phone tight in both hands. “Why now, Mom—why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because we’ve lived with it long enough.” Sheila took a shuddering breath. “I realized we were partially to blame, but not completely. Peter, Madeline didn’t want you to know. She wanted a clean break and you were out of control. You must realize that. We tried for months, but we couldn’t reason with you. You nearly flunked out of school.”

  “I understand, but if I’d been told—”

  “I know you felt that way at the time, honey. That’s why I’m telling you now. I’m saying go after Madeline. Tell Tara the truth.”

  “It’s too late. Peter gripped the phone tightly. “Maddy never wants to see me again. I waited to long and how could I tell Tara? She’s too vulnerable.”

  “Peter, it’s not your fault Tara’s father passed away, you can’t bring him back for her. Maybe you’ve been sent to Madeline now for a reason. Maybe you both needed the patience and strength—the maturity—that only time could bring.”

  “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

  “Peter, I’m so sorry. We never meant to hurt you or to keep you from being happy. I don’t expect you to forgive us. We know this can’t be easy for you.” Sheila’s voice broke.

  “It’s too late,” Peter heard himself repeating uncontrollably. “It’s too late. It’s too late.” He sat holding the phone long after Sheila hung up.

  Everyone had known all along.

  Chapter 25

  Confessions

  Peter sat on the edge of his bed staring at a piece of paper, the bedside phone in his hand. He imagined what Maddy would say when she heard his voice. He started to dial and stopped. “Come on, Peter, you can do this.” He dialed the numbers and heard the phone begin ringing. After three rings, it was picked up, and his heart jolted in his chest. “Maddy?”

  The other end of the line was silent.

  “Please don’t hang up. Maddy, it’s me. Peter.”

  “I know it’s you.”

  Peter exhaled. “Maddy. I needed to speak to you and didn’t know when would be a good time, or if you would even allow me—” He waited. “Is it all right? Were you busy or resting?”

  Maddy took her time. “I can talk to you now.”

  There was silence again. He stood and paced the room, running his hands through his hair.

  “I’m waiting,” Maddy said softly.

  “I know. I’m thinking. I have so much to say, and I’m figuring out what to say first. Maddy, I want to tell you first how sorry I am for lying to you. For not telling you who I was. I’m sorry for causing you pain, I’m sorry for not being there for you all these years. I know I told you that—or tried to tell you—but it didn’t come out the way I wanted. Everything I intended to do I failed. I guess when I saw you I was just thrown a curve ball. I didn’t know how to react. Madeline?”

  “Yes, Peter.”

  “How are you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m better.”

  “I worry about you.”

  “Don’t.” Maddy spoke firmly. “I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”

  “I didn’t say I worry because I didn’t think you were strong. You are strong and independent and—” He paused, his chest aching. “Maddy, I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’m not going to run out and cut my wrists, Peter, if that’s what you’re worried about. You can relax and get on with your life.”

  “You know I can’t now.”

  “What do you mean ‘you can’t’?
You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Hear me out, Maddy, please. I didn’t call to check on you and get closure. I called because I—”

  “Because you what?”

  “I called because you are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. I thought you were incredible years ago, and even then you weren’t a fraction of the woman you’ve become. Being with you the other day—it made me feel, oh, Maddy, as though we had never been apart.”

  “How can you say that?” Maddy cried. “You haven’t seen me in over twenty years. You know nothing about my life and me. I don’t know anything about yours.”

  “You’re so defensive! I’m talking about the girl I sat with at Frani’s that night twenty years ago. The woman I walked with through St. Bartholomew’s School during recess the other day. When you didn’t know I was Peter, but we were just talking—we weren’t like strangers meeting for the first time. I felt as if time hadn’t really touched us.”

  “I haven’t changed? I haven’t? I’m nothing like I was before. That part of me died.”

  “I know that’s what you believe, but it isn’t true.” Peter paced into the corners of his bedroom and out again. “Maddy, you’re the same woman I knew all those years ago. Now more vibrant, more daring, with an inner strength I only glimpsed back then. I see that young Maddy through your smile, I hear her through your passion and personality, I feel her through your tenderness and warmth. You say she died, but she’s more alive now than when you could still see. You’re interesting and funny and witty and sexy—”

  “Sexy?”

  Peter’s voice dropped. “If you could only know what people see when they look at you? If only you could really see what others see. You are so much more than you think.”

  There was a silence. Peter paused in the middle of the floor, the phone to his ear.

  After a long time, Maddy spoke again quietly. “Peter, why are you doing this? Why are you telling me these things?”

  “Because, Maddy, I—” He stopped in front of his bedroom mirror. He stared at his reflection and closed his eyes against the pain in his own eyes. “After being with you that day at the school, and at the coffee shop, and at your house, I realized something.”

  “Don’t say something you’re going to regret, Peter.” Maddy’s voice was warning.

  “I’m still in love with you, Maddy. I’ve never stopped loving you.” He could hear her on the other end of the phone, crying softly. “Maddy, Maddy, are you all right?” He waited, but there was no answer. “The last thing I want to do is upset you.”

  “You’re not upsetting me. You’re confusing me.”

  “Forgive me.”

  “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

  “I want you to know what I feel for you. I want you to know how much I’ve agonized over our past.” Peter slid to the floor against his bed. He brought his knees up to his elbows, laid one hand on his forehead, and closed his eyes.

  “You expect me to forget everything that happened and just pick up where we left off? Twenty years suddenly gone? It’s not like I went away to college and just got home. I lost my sight! I wanted to kill myself! I’ve been through more heartbreak than you can imagine. I loathed myself and everyone that was around me. I had constant anxiety attacks were my daily life. I went from trusting the world to trusting no one at all. Not even myself.”

  “I understand.” Peter’s head hung between his shoulders, the phone hard against his cheek. “I can’t fathom how much you’ve suffered. I know it must have been a living hell for you, and knowing that makes it hell for me, a reality that haunts me every day. For the rest of my life it will haunt me.”

  “Then you must believe me when I say it’s not easy to talk to you again. To hear your voice and hear you tell me things like—like you just did. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that information. You want me to jump up and down when you say you have feelings for me? There’s so much I don’t know.”

  “I’m not asking you to dismiss my mistakes. I know I made them. I’m not happy with how I’ve dealt with any of it. All I ask is that you give me a chance at forgiveness.”

  “You want to be friends.”

  “Of course I want us to be friends. We were friends first. But I also want another chance at more.”

  “I don’t—”

  “If you’ll only let me. I know it will be a process and a long one. But if you let me—now, don’t say anything, okay? Just listen. Please?” Peter waited.

  Maddy’s ragged breathing paused on the other end of the line.

  He listened another second and then spoke slowly and carefully. “I would like to start over from the beginning. I want us to get to know one another, the new and improved us. I want to know you, and you to know me, so you can see whether I’m the person you should be with. I believe with all my heart you are the one for me and I am for you. We’ve been catapulted together twice now. It must mean something. I’m not asking you to respond. I just want you to let it sit for awhile.”

  Maddy was crying again. Her breath came and went on the line.

  “Will you think about this, please? Have I hurt you by telling you these things?”

  There was a pause, and then her voice came through stronger. “You didn’t.”

  “You sure? Because I never want to hurt you again.”

  “I heard what you said. Every word.”

  “May I call you tomorrow?” Peter loosened his neck. “Maddy. Madeline.”

  “Yes.”

  Peter jumped. “Thank you for listening.” His heart was pounding.

  “Good night.” Her voice was gentle.

  Good night—Maddy.” After he had hung up, he glanced back in the mirror and saw how moonlight shone through a chink in the blinds reflected behind his head. It was only a tiny glitter, but it gave him a small sense of hope, like a little silver and diamond heart.

  When Peter arrived at the construction site the next morning, a photographer from the Tribune was waiting for pictures and a quick interview.

  “A facelift for Boston,” the reporter said hopefully as she fussed with her tape-recorder, her hair feathered back and her make-up thick.

  Peter gestured graciously. “We can do the interview inside the site trailer, if you would like.”

  The reporter blushed under her rouge as the photographer nodded and shouldered his cameras over his burnt orange goose-down vest. They followed Peter up the step inside the trailer. Peter was turning to the reporter and removing his jacket when the site foreman knocked on the open door.

  “What have you got for me?” Peter dropped his jacket over the back of his chair. “Please, take a seat,” he said to the others. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  The foreman showed Peter the copies of the original site plan, his hands rough and weathered on the blueprints. “That might have been the property corner at one time, but it’s not anymore. The marker is over here.”

  “I’ll call the County.” Peter was rolling up his sleeves. “What else have you got?”

  The foreman shuffled papers. “Missing signatures—” He pointed to one page after another. “Here, here, and here.”

  Peter nodded and took them. “I’ll send a courier to the Courthouse. You all set otherwise? Got everything you need for today?”

  “Sure. The bobcats should be here any second, and we’ve got the dumpers delivered.”

  “Excellent.” Peter clapped him on his broad shoulder. “You do good work sir!”

  The foreman laughed. “The day’s early yet.”

  He was turning away when two men in pressed suits came around the corner of the trailer.

  “This is the architect, Peter Michaels.” The taller man straightened his striped tie and put out his hand. “It’s good to see you, Peter.”

  “Good to see you too. How are things at the Mayor’s
office?”

  The shorter man shook Peter’s hand, his grey beard crisply trimmed. “They’re going to solve world hunger and the population crisis any minute now. We wanted to take a look at your site so we could report back to the Historical Board. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. Tim will show you around.” Peter pointed out the foreman, who huddled with his carpenters, as the bobcats began to rumble to life.

  “Also, a couple of forms for you to sign—” The taller man adjusted his tie back the other way. “Just red tape.”

  Peter laughed. “If I couldn’t take the red tape, I’d never have gone into this business in the first place.” He flourished his signature across the forms propped against his clipboard on his lifted knee and handed them back. “Anything else?”

  “I think that’ll do it.” The grey-bearded man shook his hand again. “We appreciate your cooperation.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” Peter leaned on the door as the men glanced toward the building site among stacks of plywood and two-by-fours. “Anything else, you just give me a holler.” He pulled his head back into the trailer and smiled at the reporter. “So where were we?” He loosened his collar. “I can tell already it’s going to be a busy day.”

  “About this facelift—” The reporter leaned forward over her crossed legs just as the phone rang.

  “I totally apologize.” Peter held up a finger. “I swear I’ll be right with you. Hello?”

  The Zoning Commission was sending the revised judgment to his office via messenger, and the instant he hung up the trucking company called to say they had accidentally dropped a shipment of cement blocks off at the wrong site.

  “Got it.” Peter scribbled quickly on his clipboard, the phone held against his shoulder. “We’ll watch for your truck.” He hung up and finished his notes, then dropped his clipboard on his crowded desk, turning to the reporter and photographer. “You folks are incredibly patient. Where were we?” Peter smiled.

  “Fabulous shots!” The photographer put his camera back in the bag over his shoulder and pulled out a smaller, newer Canon. “If you don’t mind, I’ll get a few headshots while you talk.”