Anastasia reached her arms around my neck and squeezed. “Life loves you, too.”
Amazing how much more you appreciate the little things when all the big things are taken from you.
Ten
After a week of ignoring James, he showed up at Ella’s house while I was taking a nap. Gavin wouldn’t let him inside, so I woke to him screaming from the lawn for me to talk to him one last time.
I guess I felt bad.
I asked Ella and Gavin to let James come upstairs.
When he entered my room I didn’t recognize him. Not with the disheveled hair, messy clothes, and droopy eyes.
He tripped over his shoelaces as he walked toward me, then slurred some kind of words together. Obviously he enjoyed one too many drinks. When he stood beside my bed I could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Please, baby,” he said. “I’m nothing without you.”
“What happened to Cheyenne?”
He slammed his fist on the table beside my bed.
Gavin entered the room within seconds. “Sarah? Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“James.” Gavin stepped toward him. “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk.”
“There is no best time,” James said, his tone rising with each shade of pink that covered his face. “My life is ... do you know what it’s like to feel like a piece of crap who ruins everyone’s life he touches?” He rolled his eyes. “No, of course not. Gavin the Great. Gavin the Wonderful. Gavin the nice guy who makes everyone smile.”
“Man, you have no idea what I’ve done in my life. I’m not perfect. No better than you at all.”
James laughed, then turned crimson. “Get out. I want to talk to my fiancé.”
“This is my house.” Gavin straightened his shoulders. “I’m staying right here.”
James swung his fist at Gavin, but missed by a few inches.
“Would hitting me make things better for you, James? If so, have at it.” He stepped closer and tilted his jaw. “Right here would hurt pretty good. Go ahead.”
James turned to me. “You don’t get it. My life is a living hell.”
I sat up and held his hand. “James, I love you. A lot. But I am not the answer to your problems. You were like this when we met. It has everything to do with your brother and your guilt. Now the fire has only added to that.” I kissed his hand and started to cry. “I am releasing you, James. You don’t have to carry this guilt anymore. I love you, but not the way a wife should love her husband. When you truly care for a person, you let them go when you know it’s for the best.”
“This is not for the best.”
“It is. If we got married we’d both be miserable. I can’t change your life. I can’t make you walk away from me today and start a clean slate with hope, but I can change myself. I’m already changing. I feel good. Please understand that. Please let me go.” Tears continued to pour down my face. “I’m so sorry, James. As much as I want this, it kills me. It feels like a part of me is being ripped apart. Please trust me though.”
“I have to make it up to you. I can’t just leave you, Sarah.”
“If you want to make it up to me, then do as I ask. I need you to accept that it’s over.” I wiped my cheeks. “I’m not trying to be mean. This isn’t right. I don’t know what right is, but this isn’t it.”
The blood vessels in his eyes turned the whites of his eyes pink. And the veins in his neck throbbed as he stood. “You’re a bitch.”
I shook my head and covered my face with my hands. Why did it hurt so much to hear those words?
“You will never find anyone to love you, Sarah.” He hit his own chest with his hands. “You’re missing the good stuff right here, baby. You’ll regret this.”
He turned around and spit in Gavin’s face, then stormed out of the house.
I couldn’t blink as Gavin and I stared at each other, trying to make sense of what happened. In the past, I saw James lose his temper a few times, but he never got this bad. This time he was straight up mean. Horribly mean.
I know it sounds crazy, but after everything ... I still felt sorry for the guy.
Whether he knew it or not ... I truly cared for him.
My phone beeped. I grabbed it off my nightstand before it vibrated off the edge.
A text from an unknown number.
Sarah... I hope you don’t mind... I got your number from my brother... how are you?
I typed back. Who is this?
Oh, sorry. This is Sophia.
Me: Hey, Sophia! I’ve been better. How are you guys?
Sophia: Same. Listen, Anastasia’s doctor just told us that she probably has a month to live. We found her journal while she was sleeping and I read a few pages. There’s a few things she wants to do before she dies. Could you help? Sorry to text this, but I’m trying to be quiet so it stays a secret.
Me: Of course. Just let me know what and when. Hang in there, Sophia. I’m starting to realize it’s the difficult times in life that help us the most.
Sophia: Yes, yes .... you are right. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Could you meet me for lunch today? I can pick you up.
Me: Sure. Give me about 2 hours.
Sophia and I sat down at a table by the window after ordering soup and salad. I admired the modern decor and spotted a familiar piece of art across the room. Could it be?
One of the girls at the cafe set our food in front of us and disappeared. Quaint little cafe on Prince Street. Right next to the Fulton Opera House. I sipped my soup and admired passing strangers. Life passing by as Sophia and I prepared to speak of her dying child.
“Do you like Lancaster?” Sophia said.
“I do.” I dipped my spoon back into the bowl. “But I haven’t been out much yet. This is only my second time in the city. It’s definitely not Philly. Much smaller here. I like that about it.”
“You and Ella lived in the city of Philadelphia?”
“Yes. We still lived together when the fire happened, but I was in a coma for months and pretty much glued to my hospital bed when she got married, so she put all of my stuff in her house for now. I think I’m finally ready to move on and find my own place again.”
“Really? Let me know if you need help with that.” She held back a smile, then pressed her palms on the table and leaned toward me. “I have a secret.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh?”
“My brother wants to ask you on a date.” She wiggled her fingers. “He’s worried it may not be the right time.”
“But he’s engaged.” My soup almost came back up. “And I’m ... I’m ... this.”
“Kyriakos isn’t engaged. Not in the slightest.”
Kyriakos? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Is this some kind of joke? Why would he want to go out with me? And what about Eleni?”
“Eleni? She’s their younger sister. Did you think they were together?”
I nodded.
She laughed. “They are close. Eleni was a surprise pregnancy. She was born only ten months after Kyriakos was born. As you can imagine, the two have always been inseparable.”
“Aw. That’s so sweet. I have one older sister, but she’s eleven years older than me and we’ve probably spoken to each other less than you and I have.” I lifted my broth-filled spoon. “If you guys are trying to get Kyriakos to go out with me to make me feel better ... it’s not necessary. Besides, I’m still in recovery. I have surgeries planned. I’m nowhere near ready to date anyone.”
“Vasili said something about you being engaged.”
“Yes, and there’s that. I mean, I’m not ... we’re not together right now, but my heart isn’t whole. I’m not ready to love someone else.”
“When do you think you’ll be ready?”
“When I love myself.”
“I’ll never forget when Anastasia was in the hospital recovering from her burns. She was eight. It was soon time to discharge her, but they wanted her to look in a mirror first. One of the child psychologists brought a mirror in and asked her if she wanted to see her new self. Anastasia held the mirror to her face and said, ‘What’s new about me? It’s the same self I always was.’ The woman tried to explain to her the scars on her face, but little Anastasia set the mirror in her lap and said, ‘Oh, that’s just my face, not my self.’”
“Wow. Such simplicity. If only we could always see life through the lens of a child.”
“There’s no reason we can’t.”
Sophia and I spent the next two hours talking and laughing as though we’d known each other for years. It was so lovely that I hardly noticed anyone looking at me.
We decided on a final list of things to do for Anastasia. Our main event would be a Christmas Eve family performance of It’s a Wonderful Life at Anastasia’s house. Her favorite movie.
Sophia and I placed our dishes in the bins above the trashcans and walked to the bathroom. I stood outside of the door while Sophia slipped inside. A few girls glanced at me with wide eyes when they thought I wasn’t looking, then looked away. I tried to smile, but their eyes were already avoiding me.
I turned around and faced the wall.
I knew the photograph looked familiar. I took it three years ago when I visited an old friend in San Francisco. The way the squirrel perched himself so casually on the wire had been ingrained in my mind since. Hundreds of feet in the air with the city as a backdrop ... he sat there as though he were swaddled in his nest.
How did my photography get here? And why did it have a $200 price tag on it?
I checked my signature. Bottom right corner. Sure enough. Signed SJ.
But how?
Eleven
Somehow, within the blink of an eye, the leaves swiveled from the trees, leaving them bare as they trembled in the cold. Thanksgiving Day Ella and Gavin invited Gavin’s father over, since he had nowhere and no one else. The Koursaris family invited me over, so I made plans to head over there later.
For now, I helped Ella prepare their meal. She always loved my stuffing, so I chopped up celery and onions as she whipped up sweet potato casserole. We worked in silence. I really loved those moments with my best friend.
“You know,” I said, using the back of the knife to scoot the celery into the pot. “I sometimes feel like the worst part of all of this is that I missed your wedding and the last few months of enjoying you before marriage. I came out of the hospital and our entire friendship was different.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” She smiled. “Nothing has changed. We’re still close. And you even live with me.”
“It’s different. I’m happy for you, just wish I were standing beside you as you said your vows.” Not sure why, but my eyes filled with tears as I said those words aloud.
Ella wrapped her arms around me and rubbed my head, like a mother soothing her child. I sniffed and composed myself, backing away from her embrace. “I don’t know what came over me. Could be the onions.”
“You’re trying to adjust. It takes time. It’s kind of like watching Forrest Gump then halfway through falling asleep and waking up to Sweet Home Alabama.”
“Huh?”
“Just takes time to adjust.”
“Oh, by the way, weirdest thing. I was in the cafe next to the theatre and saw my art for sale. I forgot about it until today. I was looking for my favorite photograph. I took it when I had the cancer scare and it symbolized hope. I wanted to give it to Anastasia, but I can’t find it.”
Ella beamed with joy. “Well, surprise!”
“What?”
“It was me. I did it.”
“Did what?”
“While you’ve been recovering I’ve been selling your art. I’ve set
aside the money for when you are ready to move out. I’ve got over ten thousan—”
“Please tell me you are selling copies and not originals.” My heart rate accelerated.
“Copies? You had copies?”
“Ella!” My muscles tensed. “Those were all original photos taken with film. I didn’t have copies.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you would be ha—“
I shook my head. “Those were my favorites. They were all meaningful to me.”
“I am so sorry. Sarah, please forgive me.”
Before she finished her sentence I was already out the front door and heading to my car. Why? How did I lose everything I once valued all because of one stupid mistake?
This wasn’t my life. Or my face. Or my heart. What happened to me?
I wanted to wake up from the nightmare.
Perhaps most people would say, “It’s just a photograph.”
But they were more than that. They were reflections of my heart. Of who I once was. They were my visual diaries.
And now they were hanging in someone else’s house.
After dinner Mama Koursaris prepared the table with a vast array of desserts and teas while Kyriakos made everyone laugh with his commentary on Greeks celebrating an American holiday.
“Technically,” Natalie said. “You are American. You’re just a Greek one.”
He ignored her dose of reality and continued his rant. I couldn’t help wondering how or why this man wanted to date me. He never showed any hint of interest in me when I was around. Vasili, on the other hand, always held eye contact with me longer than normal. You know that feeling when someone looks into your eyes and you can tell they aren’t searching or hiding ... they’re just being? That’s what he did. I don’t believe he meant to. Otherwise he wouldn’t have looked down so nervously when I caught him.
Anastasia left the room to take a brief nap after dinner while the rest of us sat around the table sipping tea and talking. Finally Sophia brought up the plans and everyone began to contribute their thoughts.
“Who are the actors for the play?” Natalie said as Eleni perked up.
“Actually, a few nights ago Anastasia wanted to decorate the Christmas tree and afterward we watched It’s a Wonderful Life. I casually asked who, out of our family, she’d want to see in those roles.”
Phew. Not me. Couldn’t be me. I wasn’t part of the family.
“She said she wanted Vasili and Sarah as the main couple.”
My heart plummeted.
“Vasili? He’s never acted a day in his life.” Kyriakos picked up some kind of Greek pastry. “I’ll do it.”
“She wants Vasili and Sarah. We aren’t going for an Oscar here, just a fun experience for our little one.”
Everyone looked at me. I wanted to evaporate.
“I’m beyond honored that such a precious girl considers me family,” I said. “Spending time with her the last few weeks has been life-changing for me. But I can’t. I hardly have the stamina to endure a night like this, much less a lead role in a play.”
“Please, Sarah.” Sophia’s eyes welled with the sorrow of a mother losing her baby.
How could I say no to that?
“You don’t have to,” Yanni said. “But it would mean so much to her.”
I noticed Vasili and Kyriakos were no longer in the room.
“Okay,” I said. “For Anastasia.”
I excused myself to go to the bathroom and overheard Vasili’s voice through a bedroom door to the right. I leaned in.
“Why do you care so much anyway?” Kyriakos said. “You’re engaged.”
“I’m not in love with her, but unlike you I care about her like a true sister in this family. That would crush her. I still can’t believe you would consider doing something so horrible.�
�
“It’s not like I was going to tell her the truth. I would treat her like a princess and she’d never know the difference.”
“What’s the truth, huh? That you don’t consider her worth actually dating?” Vasili’s tone hardened. “She’s more beautiful than you will ever be.” Something slammed. “She won’t fall for your scheme anyway. Even if she went on a few dates with you she’d never do the rest.”
“She would if I made it seem like she was doing good for others.”
“Get out of here before I do something I regret. And if you so much as look at her with false intrigue I will make sure you regret it.”
I slipped into the bathroom and avoided the mirror. He wanted to use me. For what? I think I would have been more hurt had Vasili not defended me so much. And the fact that he didn’t have romantic feelings for me lessened my apprehension with him. I could confide in him. Like the brother I always wanted.
God knew I could use a friend like him right now. Someone who didn’t pity me. Someone who believed in me.
I know Ella did, but something about Vasili felt different. I needed a brother figure. He is a brother figure, I tried to convince myself. Only a brother.
Twelve
I managed to avoid Ella for a few days. Not that I didn’t forgive her. Honestly, I had a hard time asking forgiveness for my rudeness. She tried to do something to make me smile, and instead of smiling I ruined her day. I didn’t like being that person. The one who gets upset for people when they accidentally step on my toes. I wished I could be more like her and overlook offenses, especially when they weren’t intentional.
My dad once told me something that resonated with me now. “Pride has a lot of masks. One mask transforms you into someone better than you actually are. The other mask paints you into an ugly person. Both masks are just that ... masks. So if you catch yourself admiring yourself, feeling sorry for yourself, or hating yourself ... remember to take off the mask and be yourself. No human is worthy of too much praise and loathing. Don’t be so full of yourself.”
Bloom Page 6