by Toni Draper
“Just keeping it real,” she said.
“To tell you the truth,” Mena broke in, “although I wouldn’t be quite as theatrical as Isa in my dissuasion, I’d be afraid these days, Alex. Especially with Kim around.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of having people stay when she was here. But if your goal was to give me second thoughts, you’ve achieved it. Maybe I’ll limit my guests to friends and those they can vouch for.”
Back in the kitchen area, they took seats at the bar while Mena and Isa shared their plans for the weekend with Alex, who listened attentively and appeared intrigued. After coming to the consensus that it’d be best to wait until tomorrow to begin the working part of their vacation, their thoughts turned to play.
Calling Kimmy down from where she’d ultimately retreated to, the four humans sat down at the dining room table for a round of board games. Life was the first they set out.
“It’s been so long since I played this,” Mena said. “I can’t wait.” When the time came for Kim to marry in the game, and she, of her own accord, chose another pink peg for her plastic car’s passenger seat, Alex raised an eyebrow at Mena, but neither of them said a word, nor did they give any indication that they’d seen anything out of the ordinary.
Sometime later, after having given up on their collective dreams of ever making it to Millionaire Estates, the quartet settled for early retirement, counted their money, and put Milton Bradley’s source of entertainment away. Then, bored with the games, they retreated to the living space, where it was Isa’s turn for a surprise. She’d brought along DVDs they could all watch together, as friends and a family.
“Let’s see. What’d you get?” an excited Kim asked as she reached for the cased films.
“Well, since I really had no way of both surprising you and knowing what you’d already seen or might like, I took a chance with my selection. Just keep that in mind.” Isa handed the movies to Kim while looking over the girl’s shoulder at her mother, who appeared genuinely pleased.
“Wow! I can’t believe it. I’ve been waiting for this one.” Kim squealed with delight when she saw the cover of the Freaky Friday remake. “Can we watch it? Can we please?” she pleaded before having even seen the other two titles. They never saw the light of day once Kim had decided which it would be.
“Well,” Alex exclaimed. “It looks like you’ve outdone yourself, Ms. Salas.” She got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen to pop some corn for them to enjoy while they watched the movie.
At bedtime, Kim—again, of her own accord—sought both visitors out to give them a hug and wish them a good night while dropping hints and suggestions for what tomorrow might bring.
The next morning, with Alex and Kim along, Mena and Isa set out for the roads around Elden Tower. There, they mapped out and set up cameras, checking for any debris that might tell a story. When their work was done, they had some time for a little fun.
In the evening, although they were all tired and dragging from the day’s walking and hiking, Kim discovered Isa, especially, was still a willing and formidable opponent in the world of pillow fights.
The three-day getaway flew by as holiday weekends often do. With her Jeep packed up and ready to go, Mena turned to Alex and said, “Thank you so much for inviting us to your home.”
Isa followed close behind with, “Let me know when you make up your mind about hosting guests, and I’ll talk up your place to everyone I know, if I know they wouldn’t be an Anthony Perkins kinda psycho.”
“Get out of here, you!” Alex gently pushed her out of their hug and couldn’t help but laugh.
Chapter 16
As fate and coincidence would have it, at the same time, Sydney was also packing for a trip that would bring her close to where Mena was about to pass through. She knew because Isa had, thankfully, reached out to her at the university again. When Sydney told her what happened and why she hadn’t called, Isa was tempted to give her Mena’s number, but she wasn’t yet sure it was in her best interest. She needed a little more convincing. And soon, Sydney would provide it.
While sipping her coffee, she was curious to know what Isa would even say if she’d been aware of Sydney’s pending journey, without knowing the details and its purpose.
She was about to take the biggest leap of faith she’d ever considered in all her life’s five decades. And, while she felt she was ready to retire and could write from pretty much anywhere, she’d never dreamed she’d be one day doing so in the Grand Canyon state.
After much careful consideration, she’d settled on Sedona in her search for real estate. Once that had been decided, it was only a matter of hours of searching online listings before she found one that caught her eye and held her attention. It called to her each time she dared look at another place. With custom wrought iron gates that opened onto a beautiful, bricked drive and gorgeous red rock view, she was sold before she even took a virtual glimpse inside. She picked up the phone to call the agent.
“This one will go fast,” the realtor said. “It just went on the market yesterday, and I’ve already had several inquiries.”
With an asking price over eight hundred thousand, it was a little expensive, but this would be the last house she’d ever buy—regardless of what happened, if anything, with her and Mena. So without further ado and any hesitation, she made an appointment to see it Saturday. Those charming cherry floors, the stone fireplace wall with niches, and the exposed beams of a soaring ceiling… Even the street’s name, Broken Arrow Vista, was all so perfect. She’d say a prayer and keep her fingers crossed, believing that if it was meant to be, the pieces would all fall into place.
Finally, showtime arrived. She tuned out the running commentary of the dapper salesman the minute she’d stepped foot inside the brick-and-mortar house and realized the photographs hadn’t done justice to the interior space. This was it. She knew it, she could feel it. Even more strongly than she had with the purchase of her current dwelling place. It was all she could do to keep from pulling out her checkbook before the tour had ended. So much for not appearing like an overly anxious prey. Had it been offered, she would have bought it with all of the furnishings and saved herself the hassle of moving all but her personal belongings. Whoever lived there had exquisite taste. Every piece of furniture, wall art, and decoration appeared to have been custom designed for where it sat, hung, or was arranged.
Sydney asked fearfully, “Will a one-hundred-thousand-dollar deposit be enough to keep any other interested party from snatching it away from me?”
The man smiled. “I’m sure that amount of an earnest offering will show the seller you’re entering the transaction in good faith.” The man was likely already calculating his commission as he pulled out a precontract, and her signature was obtained, along with the check.
Sydney spent the rest of the weekend exploring what would soon be her new town. Her first stop was at what appeared to be a divine French restaurant, René at Tlaquepaque. After quite a delectable deliberation, she ordered the cedar plank salmon and paired it with the suggested and celebratory pinot noir.
Cheers to my new life! She raised her glass in a toast to whatever was to come her way. All during the meal, her thoughts drifted to include Mena. She knew she should have let her know her plans, but the truth was she was afraid. Afraid to be dissuaded. Afraid to find out Mena had given up on her, on their love. Afraid of so many things.
Afterward, she strolled the streets of the neighboring arts enclave, finding herself in awe and admiration of what she found, already mentally decorating. When her legs grew weary of walking and the sky gave way to darker hues, she returned to the rental car and decided to call it a successful day.
She’d only traveled a few miles when she happened upon the Chapel of the Holy Cross, a modern architectural structure built into the buttes in such a way that she almost hadn’t recognized it for what it was, until light reflecting from
the setting sun drew her attention to the rood that comprised the building’s front centerpiece. At first glance, it looked more like an observatory, perched high on a roadside hilltop, but as she drew near, she saw it for the place of worship it was.
You can take the girl out of the church, but the church will always be in the girl.
The first thing she noticed as she entered the building was the life-size, bronze “Christ of the Holy Cross,” a piece that had been commissioned and created locally. The artist, she read, chose to show Jesus crucified upon the Tree of Life. There was much symbolism and intricate meaning crafted into the sculptor’s work. Sydney purchased and lit a votive, then kneeled to have a few long overdue words with her Lord and Savior.
As she rose and turned to leave, her eyes cast upon a painting titled Our Lady of Mercy and four silk hangings known collectively as God’s Mercy. She could have gazed at the pieces for hours. It was sure to be a place to which she would not only return, but would visit often.
On Sunday, she had a few morning hours before her flight was scheduled to depart, so she set off early for Doe Mountain, where she was told she’d have her best chance of seeing the sun’s magnificent rise on exquisite display. And, she had to admit, she agreed with whomever had given her that insider information. Trite as it seemed, it was stunning. But already thinking of the place as home, perhaps she was biased. She hated to leave, but she found solace in knowing the sooner she finished wrapping things up back east, she’d be returning here to live out the rest of her sunrises and days of her life.
Thanksgiving had always been a special holiday for Sydney. She preferred it over the hustling and bustling, gift-giving commercialism Christmas had become. It was a time of giving thanks, of appreciating the blessings life had put in your path and rained down from above, like the golden autumn leaves that still surrounded her.
She turned to the patio door as it slid open.
“It seems so strange to be here,” Isa commented. She had gone back inside to trade in her lightweight jacket for a warmer coat. The pleasant temperature of the day had quickly given way to a colder-than-expected early evening.
Sydney smiled. It was November, sweater weather, her favorite time of year. There was a good enough chill in the air that you had to layer, never knowing what winds would blow your way or how cold the deceptively bright day might become in an instant of cloud cover or after the setting sun.
“I’m glad you came. I enjoy having guests. I don’t do it nearly as much as I should. Don’t get me wrong, I like my alone time too. But it’s nice every now and again to have some company, to hear a voice in the house other than the television newscasters or meteorologists who spend time with me regularly.”
Jenny took that as her cue to rouse herself from her resting spot and remind her human she could always be depended on to be around.
“Of course, you will be here, girl. You always are. I was referring more to the two-legged variety of living creatures, those that can do a little more than bark and whine. But I do love you so.” She kissed the sheltie on her muzzle.
Appeased with that display of affection, the dog went back over to the corner of the deck, circled a few times in search of the best spot, and curled up.
“I guess what I was trying to say is that I feel a bit odd being here. I mean, because of Mena. It’s like I’m doing something behind her back, somehow betraying her, our friendship and trust. She has no idea you and I have been in touch, and I’m not sure she’d be happy if she were to find out.” Isa opened her arms in a gesture encompassing her present environment.
“Nonsense,” Sydney replied, effectively rerouting the subject. “Besides, she has no need to ever know. We’re merely two friends spending time together, and as long as we’re not slandering her or involving her, why should she care? Your boyfriend has gone home to be with his family, and you’ll soon be joining yours back in Arizona. You merely accepted an irresistible invitation to spend a few days in a place you’ve never seen or visited before, one to which many people flock during vacations and holidays. This area is a mecca for tourists.
“There’s so much to see and do, to experience. History and culture, man-made and natural beauty, all within a day’s reach. From where you’re sitting at this very moment, an hour’s drive south will put you in the heart of our nation’s capital. The architecture of the buildings and monuments alone is absolutely stunning, gorgeous.
“A half-hour to the north, and you’ll be in the middle of Gettysburg’s Battlefield, a Civil War lover’s dream spot, and just a short drive past picturesque farms and barns will put you in Lancaster County, home to the horse-and-buggy Amish. Ever seen the movie Witness? Just for the record, there really are towns there with names like Bird-in-Hand and Intercourse.” They both laughed, and the would-be guide’s narrative travelogue reached its ending.
Sydney searched inwardly for what she hoped would be an understandable and acceptable explanation for what she was sure must have been interpreted as inexcusable, perhaps unforgivable, behavior. She thought it might be easier to first explain to Isa, who had told her she wouldn’t just hand over Mena’s number or contact information until she was convinced Sydney was sincere, the story she told was true, and that doing so wouldn’t set back Mena. From where they sat today, Sydney assured Isa she’d learned from her past, worked on it in the present, and was ready for a future she hoped would include Mena.
“You know, I had just returned to counseling not long before Mena’s accident. I had finally admitted to myself that I had a problem with intimacy and relationships. It’s a long story, not worth a bother right now. But this one is. I have a penchant for believing in signs, omens, prescient sentiment, if you will. For days before you called to tell me about Mena’s accident, she had come back to me in my thoughts and memory. I was at a loss for explaining why until your call. Then it all made sense to me. You see, Mena and I had a different kind of relationship from the start. Different in that we first connected on a level that superseded all pretenses, looks, sexual chemistry, whatever it is that draws one person to another. Our attraction was intellectual, emotional, I guess you could say. We shared an interest in human anthropology, history, cultures, peoples, languages, literatures, writing. Of course, I shouldn’t and can’t speak for her. That’s merely the way I understood what happened between us. Whatever it was, it was, for want of a more aptly descriptive word, magical. To me, anyway.”
Sydney spent more than two hours that day recounting her past with Mena to Isa.
“It all sounds so romantic.”
“Oddly, I never thought of it that way, but our different ways of seeing things had been part of our problem. I admit, at the time, I foolishly didn’t even try to put myself in her place. If I’m to be completely honest, I’d go as far as to say that I then thought her views and affairs of the heart were ridiculously reminiscent of a child’s fantasy.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“After she left, and with a little help from a professional friend, I saw that I had not only stopped feeling, but I no longer believed. I’d hardened my heart to protect it from breaking, and although I hadn’t been aware at the time, it was again softening thanks to and because of Mena. I had become a stodgy old academic, a curmudgeon insensate. It wasn’t until Mena had left me all alone that I realized how much I truly loved her. Despite all I’d done to prevent it, my heart was so painfully aching.”
“I’ve read some of your writing. Your novel, the book that reached out to Mena. I can see what she saw in it. Maybe not to the depths she did, but no unfeeling being could have written what you did. There’s so much love in your pages. She saw it. It touched her. Maybe you just needed another to help you navigate your loneliness, to bring those feelings out again.”
“We shared the common bonds of intellect and cerebral yearnings, yet we differed in many other important ways. I am, at the core of my being, much
more of an introverted loner. Of course, I have to interact with others in my profession, but I end up drained afterward and need solitude in order to recover. Mena couldn’t understand that, my need to be alone. Her want and need was quite the contrary. Although she, too, is a loner at heart, she’s much more of an extrovert in that she needs to reach out to at least one other. She thrives on such togetherness. I, on the other hand, felt smothered by the constant attention. I had hoped we could come to an understanding of each other, that what we’d found, what had brought us together, would at least…” Sydney stopped mid-sentence and said, “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.”
“But of course, it does,” Isa countered. “Isn’t that really why I’m here? Why you called and invited me to come? I mean, while I’m looking forward to the chance to see all those wonderful places you painted such compelling pictures of, you didn’t really ask me here simply so you could show me around. C’mon, I’m not that naive. You have to admit to yourself that you still love her. Very much.”
Sydney’s head snapped up, as if a deep, dark secret that had been buried for years had just been uncovered. Then her face relaxed into acceptance of not wanting to hide her feelings anymore, especially from herself.
“Yes. Yes, I do. For what it’s worth. But I’m not sure I didn’t ruin my chances by disappearing again without an explanation.”
“But you have an explanation, Mena just doesn’t know it yet.” Isa smiled weakly, in an attempt to lighten the intensity of the conversation. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m a poor judge of all of this. I’ve never felt that kind of love for anyone, or from anyone. I can only imagine it’s what everyone dreams of. Yet, how does a love that strong die? Or does it? Where do such feelings go? I can’t believe you can ever get over something, someone, who’s reached such a depth in your soul. I’ve been with Mena, I’ve seen her struggle with her ghosts and demons. If I were you, I wouldn’t give up hope without a fight. Let me tell you a little secret of my own. Mena and I made love one night… We had sex. I’d been drinking, and Mena was so emotionally upset over something. I never knew what, but she just up and left in the middle of the night. She was terribly distraught, and I can’t help but think it was because I was the first one, and it was the first time she’d been with anyone after you.”