Rising Above

by Genevieve Fortin

  She started up her laptop and opened the email in which Professor Hubert listed sources where she could find ads for apartments to rent. She’d sold her house in Ithaca, but she wasn’t ready to buy in Rimouski yet. She’d put all of her furniture in storage, figuring she’d rent for a year or two until she decided where she wanted to settle down. She’d hoped Melodie would be part of the house search at that time. That they’d work together to find and make their perfect home, but she had to let go of that dream now. She browsed the listings and noted the addresses and phone numbers of those that sounded most interesting on a piece of paper, keeping only the apartments that were available by January first or earlier.

  Melodie helped the Smiths carry their luggage to their car and hurried back inside the inn to warm up after waving goodbye. Her plan was to clean their room and wash theirs and Ana’s towels before she went home. She knew Ana wouldn’t expect her to stay at the inn for her. She most likely didn’t expect anything from her anymore. Melodie had made it clear she couldn’t, and as Jerome had predicted, she seemed to respect that decision. She kept her distance, didn’t try to talk to her, didn’t even look at her. She’d given up. And although that’s what Melodie wanted, she couldn’t swallow that lump in her throat or chase away those damn threatening tears.

  The entire time she cleaned the Smiths’ room she hoped Ana would leave hers before she was forced to go knock on her door to ask if she had any towels to wash. Then as she turned off the vacuum cleaner she heard a door open and close and she thought her wish had been granted until she peeked in the hallway and saw towels sitting on the floor in front of room number one. Ana didn’t want to see her. It was better that way, but it still hurt. She put away all of her cleaning supplies and placed all the used towels in a laundry basket. Instead of going straight to the basement, however, she stopped by the reception desk and grabbed Ana’s article under the printer.

  She loaded the industrial washer with all of the towels, added the detergent, and started the machine. Then she leaned against the north wall of the basement, close to the window, and started reading. There weren’t any chairs in the basement, but she didn’t want to get caught or be interrupted now that she’d finally decided to read “Living on the Edge.”

  The beginning of the article was exactly what she’d expected. Ana exposed why and how sea levels were rising and explained that it was too late to avoid them eventually flooding a large portion of the world’s coastlines. Next she wrote about the retreat strategy and why it made more sense than any man-made protective measure. As she read that section, Melodie thought of the multiple fights they’d had over that subject, and she couldn’t believe how much her own convictions had transformed in such a short period of time. The article was well written, but nothing new to Melodie, and she didn’t understand why Ana had insisted she should read it soon after her return. Didn’t she know she’d already convinced her moving away was the only solution?

  But she understood when she got to the last part of the article, the one that introduced the people Ana called the residents. Melodie recognized her grandmother in the lady who walked her dog on the beach every day. The twinkling light blue eyes and tender smile could only be hers. She recognized herself in the young business owner who claimed saltwater ran through her veins. She recognized her family and her neighbors, who worked together to fix everything the sea had broken during the storm without any rancor, as lovers recover from a bad fight that might have shattered a few dishes along the way. She went on to explain that the ties between those residents and the sea were so strong that it would be inhumane to propose a retreat strategy to such communities without offering them new ways to remain close to their beloved sea.

  Melodie took a deep breath and wiped away a few tears before she resumed reading. Ana recommended temporary, mobile structures that would be noninvasive but would allow coastline communities to keep some kind of proximity to the sea without risking their homes or their lives and without further weakening beaches that served as a natural protective barrier. Her ideas went from simple benches and picnic tables to more elaborate tiny houses that would be entirely off the grid and light enough to be pulled away quickly and easily when needed. The last sentence concluded that although the retreat strategy was the best solution, it needed to be adapted to each community. Scientists and government officials need to plan what comes after any massive relocation with as much thought and care as they plan for the retreat itself, taking into consideration the fears and aspirations of these residents.

  Melodie rolled the article and placed it in the back pocket of her jeans while she moved the towels from the washer to the dryer. She couldn’t help but smile. She’d expected Ana’s article to be informative but dry. She was surprised to find so much empathy in it. Ana had shown great sensitivity and understanding and had offered practical solutions she could see her neighbors not only accept but support. She’d certainly inspired her and given her tons of ideas for what she might do with this land once the inn was relocated. Ideas she was dying to discuss with Ana. But she couldn’t.

  She went back upstairs and sat behind the reception desk, staring at the article. She found it difficult to resist the urge to run upstairs to talk to Ana, but she had to. They couldn’t go back now. If Ana had shown her the same sensitivity after her grandmother’s death as she’d shown in her writing, they probably wouldn’t be in this position now, but they were. She couldn’t change that. So she took a pen and wrote two words on the title page, then walked slowly upstairs and discreetly slid the paper under Ana’s door. She heard steps coming toward the door, so she hurried back to the reception area, put on her winter coat and boots, and left.

  She didn’t drive straight to the duplex, however. She went to her grandmother’s land up the hill instead. The one where she’d planned to move the inn. She hadn’t come back to this place in a year, since her grandmother’s death. She walked to the edge of the land with great difficulty, deep snow making each step laborious. When she arrived at the precipice, she stared at the view of the sea expanding in front of her and smiled. Although she was still heartbroken about what had happened with Ana, her writing had given her hope again. A project. Something to get excited about. That was more than reason enough to smile.

  Ana recognized her paper on the floor as soon as she spotted the stubborn flared-up corner. She stood up, sighed, and dragged her feet toward the door to pick it up. Giving her article back was probably another way for Melodie to tell her she didn’t want anything to do with her, and she really didn’t need to be reminded of that again. She was already doing all she could to get out of the way as quickly as possible. She’d made appointments to see two apartments this afternoon and three more tomorrow. She would pick the best out of five and would be out in a few days. Yes, she could go to a different hotel in the meantime, but was that really necessary? Surely Melodie could tolerate her for a few more days, a few more walks with Miller, and a few more moments with Thomas.

  As she got closer to the paper she noticed handwritten words on the title page and picked up her pace. She bent down to grab the article and smiled when she read the two words Melodie had written: thank you. She looked through every page for another note but wasn’t surprised when she didn’t find any. Those two words were enough. And writing them had probably been very difficult for Melodie. They proved she’d read her article and liked it. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that meant she could forgive her, but perhaps they could part ways as friends, or at least not avoid each other for the rest of their lives. That was something, wasn’t it?

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Ana came back to the inn determined to call the owner of the last condo she’d seen and ask him to get the lease ready for her to sign. It was by far the best option. The two apartments she’d seen the day before reminded her too much of the inn with their Victorian charm. The first one she’d visited today was just as old without the charm and out of the two modern condos she’d seen afterward, the last w
on the prize thanks to its balcony and view of the sea. She’d be comfortable there. There was a pool and a gym in the building, not to mention an underground garage.

  She walked inside the inn trying to ignore Melodie and Jerome sitting in the dining room, but she couldn’t help but notice Melodie was crying. She paused long enough to offer a compassionate smile which Melodie returned as she listened to Jerome, who she guessed was trying to comfort her even though she couldn’t understand what he was saying in French. She waited for Jerome to stop talking and announced, hoping it would cheer her up, “I found a place. I’ll be checking out on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” she replied before she cried harder and Jerome took her in her arms.

  So much for cheering her up, Ana thought as she watched, powerless. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Don’t flatter yourself; these tears have nothing to do with you. You don’t have exclusive ownership of my tears, you know. Now go, please. Leave us alone.” She waved her hand dismissively before she hid her face against Jerome’s chest. Ana climbed the stairs slowly, still wanting nothing more than to find out what was troubling Melodie so much and comfort her, but understanding she’d lost that privilege.

  “That was harsh,” Jerome said once Ana had disappeared upstairs.

  “I know,” Melodie admitted as she pulled away from her father’s embrace and dried her tears with a tissue he’d handed her earlier. He was right. It wasn’t Ana’s fault her mother had texted that she’d be at the inn for a few days during the holidays to spend time with her and Thomas.

  “She’d probably understand what you’re going through better than anyone, baby. From what I understand she didn’t have the best relationship with her own mother. That’s what got her so messed up she had to leave last year.”

  “I know,” she repeated.

  “She hurt you, and it’s up to you if you want to forgive her or not. But it doesn’t give you the right to treat her like shit.”

  “I know, I know, all right?” she stood up and clicked her tongue, exasperated by the way her father defended Ana but mostly annoyed with her own behavior. It was too easy to use Ana as a scapegoat for all of her frustrations. She took a deep breath before she added, “I’ll apologize to her, okay?”

  Jerome nodded and stood up. “Are you coming home now? I’ll make dinner.”

  “No, I asked Kevin to drop off Thomas here when he called earlier. But you go ahead. We’ll be home for dinner. What are you making?”

  “Cereal,” he said with a grin and a wink. She couldn’t help but giggle. “I’ll throw in an omelette if you smile.” She did before he added more seriously, “You’re gonna be all right?”

  “Yes,” she said with another weak smile. He kissed her forehead, winked at her again and left. She stood in the lobby, staring at the door her father had closed behind him, lost in thoughts about her mother until she heard steps behind her. She turned and came face to face with Ana.

  “Sorry, I’ll leave you alone, I promise. I was on my way out to grab a bite to eat,” she said, avoiding her gaze as she walked past her.

  “Wait, Ana,” she started. Her heart tightened when she saw the tall, strong scientist turn around looking like a lost child expecting to be scolded. Her father was right. She had no right to keep torturing her despite all the pain she’d gone through when she’d left. They’d talked, she’d asked her to leave, and Ana was respecting that decision. What more did she want? Except for none of it to have happened in the first place. “I’m sorry about what I said before. I was upset because my mother is coming to the inn for the holidays. It had nothing to do with you and I shouldn’t have barked at you like that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

  “Not really,” she admitted as she smiled to avoid crying. “I don’t know how to be around her, you know? It’s like I don’t even know her anymore.”

  “That could be the best thing about this whole situation.”

  “What do you mean?” Ana took a step toward her and she didn’t back away, curious to find out how not knowing the woman her mother had become could be positive.

  “I’m guessing she wants to meet her grandson, right?” She nodded. “Then the question is: do you want Thomas to meet his grandmother and get to know her?”

  “Yes, otherwise I would have told her to go to hell. I do want my son to know all of his family, but I’m scared to death of what seeing her will do to me.”

  “Understandably so. But do you want to know what I think?”

  “I’m listening, aren’t I?” She sighed with impatience as Ana took off her winter jacket and sat on the bottom step of the stairs. Miller joined her and she petted him. Melodie placed her hands on her hips and prompted, “Well, tell me.”

  “I think you need to mourn the person you knew as your mother to make room for the woman you don’t know who’s about to visit.”

  “What? She’s not dead. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “But in a way she is, isn’t she? What’s your mother’s name?”

  “Nicole,” she replied as she joined Ana on the step.

  “Nicole isn’t your mother. She hasn’t been the mother you needed her to be ever since she abandoned you here with your father when you were fourteen. Are you with me so far?”

  “Yes,” she said as she crossed her arms on her chest, a chill passing through her body as she heard the words come out of Ana’s mouth. She was right. The mother she’d known had died when she’d moved to Montreal. Ana put her arm around Melodie and rubbed her arm slowly. The thought of pulling away crossed her mind, but she needed this comforting touch too much to move.

  “You need to let go of that woman who was your mother if you want to make room for Nicole.”

  “And how the fuck do I do that?” she asked as she let her head fall onto Ana’s shoulder.

  “Make your peace with her. Take the time to remember all the good times you had together, and then forgive her. Let her go.” Ana’s voice broke as she spoke softly, whispering almost directly into her ear, and she realized she knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “That’s what you did, isn’t it? When you left the hospital and went back to Ithaca last year?”

  “Yeah.”

  By the time she’d made it to Ithaca last January, Ana had spent the long drive remembering all the reasons why Constance had no right to interfere with her happiness now, to keep haunting her the way she did. She’d driven straight to her grave. Angry, she’d yelled out her long list of grievances, thinking it would free her from her mother’s hold at last. But it had only left her angrier. After days of wallowing in resentment, unable to make sense of anything, she’d finally decided to ask for help. It took months of therapy before she understood forgiveness was the better option, so she didn’t expect Melodie to believe her, yet she hoped sharing her own experience might help.

  “I can’t forgive her, Ana. She hurt me too much.”

  “I know. That’s what I thought too. It took months. That’s why I didn’t come back before. But eventually I started thinking of the good times I had with her. I thought of the places we visited together across the country. The way she laughed. How important I felt when I helped her learn her lines. My pride when I saw her on stage. I focused on those little things instead of her bigger shortcomings I’d let take over my life. And I forgave her.”

  “And it worked? It made you feel better?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t worked. Don’t get me wrong, the bad memories and the bitterness still flare up once in a while, but when they do I start thinking of the better days, and I forgive her all over again. Forgiving her freed me to move on and allow myself to be happy. I know it sounds silly, but what they say about forgiveness is true.”

  “What is that?” she asked as she turned to look into her eyes.

  “Ultimately you do it for you. Not for the person who hurt you.”

  Melodi
e looked pensive for a few seconds before she shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “I understand,” she said as she dared moving a few curls out of Melodie’s face with her fingers.

  “You’re a bigger person than I am.”

  “No. I spent a fortune in therapy, that’s all.”

  Melodie laughed and she smiled wider than she had in over a year. Ana had thought she’d never know that pleasure again—being the cause of that beautiful, explosive laughter she’d missed so much. Their eyes remained locked onto each other even as Melodie stopped laughing. She saw her expression change and sadness settled in her eyes before she averted her gaze and stood, putting some distance between them. She wasn’t ready to forgive her any more than she was ready to forgive her mother. “Well, I guess I’ll go grab some food.”

  “Oh yes, of course. Don’t let me keep you any longer.” She petted Miller one last time and made her way to the door before she heard Melodie’s voice again, “Thank you, Ana.”

  “Anytime,” she replied as she opened the door and faced the frigid winter. She ran to her car remembering how Yvonne had once told her she was good at planting seeds in people’s minds. She hoped she’d done exactly that today. For Melodie’s sake.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Melodie used Scotch tape to hang a shimmering gold garland from one side of the reception desk to the other. She hadn’t planned on decorating the inn for the holidays, but a young couple had just booked a reservation for the day after Christmas so she figured she had to show some kind of holiday spirit. Thomas seemed fascinated with the simple decoration, clapping enthusiastically when she stepped away from the desk to assess her handiwork. She picked him up and kissed him on the cheek. “You like it, huh?” He clapped again and she laughed, inspired by his excitement.

  She usually got passionate about everything around the holiday season, from decorating to cooking. But this would be their first Christmas without her grandmother, not to mention that Nicole would show up any day now. She’d practiced referring to her as Nicole instead of her mother. She’d spent the last two days pondering Ana’s words, and although she wasn’t any closer to forgiving her, imagining her as a stranger named Nicole instead of the mother who’d abandoned her strangely helped her perspective.