Rising Above

by Genevieve Fortin

  “I won’t let him out of my sight, don’t worry.” He still had that boyish grin that made him irresistible, but he seemed more mature at the same time. Or maybe she simply saw him that way. “We’ll have so much fun snowmobile racing, right Thomas?”

  She squinted at him and almost opened her mouth to protest but remembered how much he loved making fun of her overprotective nature and didn’t bite. “Stop it.”

  “No, really. I bought a little helmet for him. He’ll be my co-pilot.”

  She swatted his arm and he laughed. “You’re such an asshole.”

  “Hey now, language,” he protested as he picked up Thomas and she handed him a duffle bag full of clothes and toys. “We’ll be back on Sunday as always. Let me know if you want me to drop him off here or at the duplex.”

  “All right, thanks. Be careful.”

  “Always.” She opened the door for Kevin and closed it behind him right away. It was frigid cold outside. She no longer felt the need to verify Thomas’s car seat every time they left, but she always watched them go from the small window in the door. She didn’t think Kevin knew she was watching, or at least she hoped he didn’t. He made enough fun of her already.

  The Smiths came down the stairs, right on time, ready for their walk and dinner outing. “Be careful out there. It’s freezing.”

  “We dressed warmer than usual. Thank you, darling,” Mrs. Smith said as she walked by her. She opened the door for them and closed it with a heavy sigh. She wished she could go home, but she didn’t want to break the Smiths’ routine. She’d been there to welcome them back to the White Sheep Inn every night, all week long. She’d asked them if they needed anything before they turned in and they never did, but it wouldn’t feel right to miss their last night. She wanted to be there for them.

  Hopefully Ana would stay up in her room. She went back to the paperwork she’d put aside earlier, unable to focus. She still felt that pull toward the article hiding under the printer, and she couldn’t get her father’s words out of her mind. Hear her out. What if he was right? What if Ana only needed to speak her mind and apologize before she could leave them alone? What if refusing to hear what she had to say was akin to refusing to put her goddamned article through the shredder? What was she hanging on to so desperately?

  “Fuck it. We’re going to rip that Band-Aid off right now,” she muttered to herself before she climbed the stairs two steps at a time and knocked on the door of room number one.

  Ana was startled when she heard the loud, repetitive banging on her door. She’d been staring at the frozen sea out the window, quietly crying and beating herself up for thinking she could come back here and hope to be forgiven. She went to open the door and was shocked when Melodie walked past her, looking as determined as she’d ever looked. “All right, Ana. Spill it out. Tell me everything. Why you left, why you’re back, and what the fuck you want from me. Everything. Let’s get it over with.”

  She crossed her arms on her chest and glared at her. This conversation would be fruitless. She knew that. Melodie was obviously closed off to any justification she might have. Yet she was standing here in her room somewhat ready to listen, and Ana knew she wouldn’t get another chance.

  “Do you want to sit down?” she offered, indicating the bed with her hand.

  “No. I want to hear you out so you can finally get out of my life for good. That’s all I want. Is that clear?” Her pale blue eyes were fixed on her as if she could shoot icicles through her heart. Her body was fired up yet her stare and her words were glacial. Even the black pants and black V-neck sweater she wore beautifully helped make her message crystal clear. There was nothing open or receptive in her attitude and appearance. Nothing but austerity.

  “Yes, very clear.” At the risk of infuriating Melodie even more, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d missed that fire in her. And anger was so much better than indifference. She stomped her foot, clicked her tongue and opened her eyes wider to communicate her impatience and command Ana to talk. “Okay then. I’ll be quick. First of all I want to say I’m sorry. So sorry I left the way I did. And I came back because I was hoping you could forgive me, but I know now I had no right to.” She paused and watched for a reaction, which she got in the form of an eye roll and a sigh. “I tried to explain to your father earlier and I realized I can’t expect you to understand. I left because I couldn’t stand being here. My grief over my mother’s death got mixed up with my grief over Yvonne and I couldn’t handle it. I had to get away so I could make sense of it all. But I know it was selfish, and I had no right to hope you could forgive me, so if all you want is to get rid of me, you don’t even have to listen to another word. I’ve already decided I’ll be leaving.”

  She swallowed, observed Melodie for any sign of softening on her part. All she saw was tears running down her face. Tears she didn’t even try to wipe away, her arms still crossed on her chest. Ana grabbed the box of tissues on the nightstand and handed it to her. She shook her head. A single, sharp movement from left to right. “No. Don’t try to comfort me. Just tell me why.”

  “Why I left? I already said…”

  “No,” she hissed with another movement of her head. “Why did you come back here hoping I would forgive you? It all comes back to the first question I asked you when you showed up here. What the hell are you doing here? What do you want, Ana?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?”

  Melodie squared her jaw and shook her head again, daring her to speak. Ana then realized she hadn’t told her the most important part of it all yet. To do so was putting herself in a vulnerable position, especially now that she was convinced she would be rejected, but she owed it to her.

  “I wanted you to forgive me because I wanted to be here with you more than anything else. I wanted us to be a family. You, Thomas, and me. I love you, Melodie. I knew that even the day I left you alone with your father to mourn your grandmother. I knew I’d come back to you eventually, but I waited too long. I didn’t tell you what was going on and I screwed up. I’ll never forgive myself for losing you.”

  This time Melodie’s tears were so abundant she was forced to wipe them away with her hands. “You could have said you needed time,” she said with difficulty through sobs. “You could have answered my calls, or sent a text telling me you’d be back. I would have been pissed off but I would have waited.”

  “I know. At first I wasn’t ready, and then I heard the desperation and anger when you left messages or sent texts, and I was a coward… Then you just stopped…” She moved closer to comfort her.

  “No,” Melodie hissed again before the stepped backward. “Stay away from me. It’s too late now.” Her eyes were red but dry and anger took over as she continued through clenched teeth, pointing her index finger at Ana to punctuate her tirade. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to come back? Hoping for a call or even a fucking email? Do you know how many articles about the storm and sea levels I’ve read, crying my eyes out thinking about you? Do you have any idea how many movies and TV shows use that stupid Canon in D tune you played the first time we kissed in their soundtrack?” She spoke louder and louder and stopped when tears threatened to fall for the second time. Ana was the one crying now, hating herself for hurting Melodie so deeply. What she’d done was unforgivable. “Do you have any fucking idea?” Melodie asked again, demanding a response.

  “Yes,” she simply said before she sat on the bed and used the tissues to blow her nose.

  “Good,” she replied, acting defiant, although Ana knew she was on the verge of breaking into tears again. “Now that we’ve both said what we had to say, all I have to add is that you’re right. I can’t forgive you and I want you out of here. Understood?”

  “Yes. I just need a few days to find an apartment.”

  “An apartment? You’re not going back to the States?”

  “No,” Ana said hesitantly. “I took a position at the UQAR. I’ll be teaching at the university in Rimouski starting in January.”
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br />   “Damn shit! You’re kidding me, right?” Melodie yelled, throwing her arms in the air and letting them fall loudly to her hips. She clicked her tongue the way she did every time she was irritated and paced furiously in front of the bed.

  “No, but Rimouski isn’t that small. We might never see each other again. I’ll try to make sure of that, don’t worry.”

  “For fuck’s sake, what’s the matter with you?” she yelled again before she grunted and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Ana lay on the bed with a grunt of her own. None of this conversation had gone as planned, but she wasn’t surprised. All she felt was shame and self-hatred. She’d ruined everything, and there was no way she could make up for it. All she had left was her familiar retreat strategy, and she wondered if moving away from the sea could possibly hurt as much as giving up on the woman she loved. If it did, she finally understood the extent of the sacrifice she’d been asking people to make all these years. You’re a complete asshole, Ana Bloom.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Melodie rolled on her side and pulled the duvet over her head. She’d gone to bed angry but woke up confused. It was so much easier to remain angry with Ana before she knew she wanted more than just to apologize and explain her actions. Before she knew she’d found a position in Rimouski and could be around all the time if she chose to forgive her. Before Ana declared that was what she wanted. To be here. Before she said she loved her. She grunted into her pillow and when that didn’t suffice to express her level of frustration, she screamed. She couldn’t forgive Ana. She couldn’t trust her not to leave again.

  “Are you all right?” she heard her father ask from the other side of her bedroom door.

  “Yes, I’m fine. What time is it?”

  “Six thirty.”

  “Oh shit. I’m up.” She had to get dressed and hurry to work to start cooking before the Smiths came down for their last breakfast at the White Sheep Inn. It was Saturday so Ana would probably have eggs Benedict as well. She grabbed the first pair of clean jeans she could find and a grey pullover sweater sporting a loosely laced-up split neckline and placed them on the bed before she ran to the bathroom, almost crashing into her father in the hall.

  “I’ll have your coffee ready,” he said as he stepped toward the kitchen.

  “Thanks.”

  She locked herself inside the only bathroom in the duplex and grabbed a washcloth to clean her face. They’d thought about selling the place after her grandmother’s death, but then she’d impulsively suggested that they could all live there together instead: her father, Thomas, and her. She’d desperately wanted to hang on to every piece of her grandmother that she could, and this house was a big part of her. So was her father. She’d almost regretted letting the idea out of her mouth when she’d imagined him coming home drunk every night and sharing her everyday space with a grown man she barely knew anymore, but she would have been wrong to change her mind.

  Living with her father had turned out to be the best idea she’d ever had. Jerome had stopped drinking entirely, dedicating his life to her and Thomas. He often did small repairs at the inn, of course, but he also helped her with house chores. He played with Thomas and she enjoyed watching them interact. She glanced at the wooden stool he’d built and put under the bathroom vanity, saying it wouldn’t be long before Thomas could use it to wash his own hands and brush his own teeth. When Melodie had argued that they needed to get him to use the toilet first, he’d laughed and scratched his beard before he concluded, “I’ll leave that to you, I think.”

  She applied mascara to her eyelashes, brushed her hair, and rushed back to her bedroom to get dressed. She stopped in the kitchen to kiss her father on the cheek, and he handed her a travel mug with warm coffee. It was their routine, and it was comforting. Miller came to sit by her feet as he did every time she got ready to go out and she bent down to pet him. “Did he have his breakfast?”

  “Yes. Did you talk to Ana?”

  “Not yet,” she lied as she put the travel mug down on the small round table to reach into the closet for her winter coat and boots. She put them on before she went back for Miller’s leash and clipped it to his collar.

  “How did it go?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  She looked at him and sighed. She couldn’t lie to him any more than she could lie to her grandmother. They read through her each and every time. “It went horribly and I don’t want to talk about it. Come on, Miller. We’re late for work.” She grabbed the leash, her purse, and the travel mug and got out of the door before Jerome could follow up with another question.

  Melodie made sure her eggs Benedict were under control on the stove before she went out to the dining room to serve coffee. The Smiths were sitting at their usual table and so was Ana. She quickly filled up all three cups and checked that there were enough milk, cream, and sugar on both tables before she went back to the kitchen. She’d hired a student during the summer to take in breakfast orders and handle service because there were too many guests for her to keep up by herself, but she did it all since the tourist season had ended. Next she would clean up the rooms and do laundry, another task she needed help with in the summer. The only way to keep busy during winter was to do everything herself. It was also the only way not to go broke.

  She plated both eggs Benedict breakfasts and Mrs. Smith’s croissant and jams and expertly carried all three plates to the dining room. “I think we’ll eat it all up today. It’s our last chance after all,” Mr. Smith announced, attacking his plate as soon as it hit the table.

  Melodie laughed. “Don’t say that. You promised you’d be back this summer, remember?” She put Ana’s plate in front of her without meeting her gaze. She’d managed to take in her order and serve her coffee without ever looking into her eyes and she planned on keeping it that way.

  “Oh, I didn’t forget. But that’s a long time from now,” Mr. Smith said before he took a second bite. She doubted he’d finish his meal, but she appreciated his eagerness.

  “It’ll go fast, you’ll see.”

  She didn’t wait for his reply before she went back to the kitchen and started on dishes. As much as she wanted to chat with the Smiths, actively ignoring Ana was too demanding at the moment. Her presence was too heavy and overpowering. She couldn’t trust she’d be able to keep her composure if she stayed in the dining room any longer. When she went back to check on her guests a few minutes later, Ana was gone. She glanced at Miller’s usual spot by the stairs and saw that he wasn’t there. They were off for their daily walk. Melodie automatically took a deep breath, finding it easier to let the air fill her lungs now that it was not so saturated with Ana’s being.

  She walked to the Smiths’ table, whose plates were almost empty, except for a couple of bites. “Wow, I’m impressed.”

  “It was delicious, darling. As always,” Mrs. Smith complimented before she lightly tapped her husband’s hand, who’d burped as discreetly as he could behind his napkin.

  “Excuse me,” he said, embarrassed.

  She giggled and reassured him, “I take it as a compliment, sir. Please make sure to say goodbye before you leave,” she added as she cleared their table.

  “We will.”

  She smiled and left them to finish their coffee. She went to Ana’s table and her heart tightened when she saw that she’d barely touched her meal. Ana was obviously suffering and although she didn’t find pleasure in knowing she was hurting probably as much as she was, Melodie couldn’t be the one to relieve that pain.

  Ana walked faster than usual and made it to the church in less than fifteen minutes. When she walked with Yvonne, they usually went in the other direction, but if their daily stroll took them toward the church, they rarely made it there before Yvonne asked to turn around. Since her return, Ana had avoided going in Yvonne’s preferred direction, the way that took them to the empty site of her family’s beloved blue saltbox house. That entire side of the beach seemed empty now without Yvonne.

>   Once she was past the parking lot of the church and back on the beach, she unclipped Miller’s leash and threw the ball for him again, but he stayed put by her side. She looked down at him and noticed he was panting. “Poor old man. Sorry, I’ll slow down.” She gave him water and resumed walking at a more leisurely pace. She realized she hadn’t even glanced at the sea, focusing on every step she made away from the inn and Melodie. Now that all of her cards were on the table, being ignored by her hurt even worse than before. A part of Ana had hoped their talk might have softened Melodie’s heart, but it seemed her confession had the opposite effect instead.

  She turned to the frozen sea and didn’t find comfort in its white, usually calming beauty. Its arid, dreary lack of color seemed hostile now. The icy snow under her feet made it difficult to keep her balance and the glacial air filling her lungs stung more than it appeased her. The wind violently hit her face and she concluded the placid winter could be as quietly brutal as Melodie. As if it was telling her she didn’t belong. “I get it,” she muttered.

  As soon as she got back to the inn she headed upstairs, trying not to pay attention to Melodie exchanging hugs and kisses with the old couple that appeared to be checking out, judging by the luggage sitting in front of the reception desk. She envied the warm goodbyes. She then realized the couple’s departure was one more reason to hurry and find a place to live. She couldn’t be Melodie’s only guest. It would be torture and she’d caused enough pain. Ana had never been one to overstay her welcome and she’d gone way past that line this time. Melodie was right. And so was the sea. She didn’t belong here. Halfway up the stairs she turned back to glance at Miller, who stared at her but respected the invisible boundaries Yvonne had set for him. She smiled, thinking he’d be the only one who’d miss her, perhaps with Thomas. The dog finally lay down by the stairs and she continued to her room.