Me: I’m not even having this conversation. You said it yourself ... who would want me?
I turned my phone off and blasted the radio. Dixie Chick’s I’m Not Ready to Make Nice came on and I belted it out as though I wrote the lyrics myself.
The nerve! I thought again, slamming my car door and stomping up Ella’s front steps. And when would I stop calling my home “Ella’s House?” I wanted my own house. I wanted my own life. I wanted a reason to wake up again.
I wanted to take the cards of my life and shuffle them back into the deck, then start over. But I couldn’t and I was frustrated beyond reason.
I walked back down the front steps and stood in the front yard, staring at the evening sky. Then, with my fists clenched by my sides, I screamed as loud as possible until my lungs begged me to stop.
The front door whipped open. I turned. Gavin stared at me, his eyes wide as the moon. He put his hands on his hips and squinted.
I laughed.
I laughed so hard, hunched over in the winter landscape, that I cried.
And they were good tears.
Needed ones.
Hydrating ones.
Ella peeked around Gavin’s shoulder.
“I’m okay.” I waved. “Just telling life I’m not playing by her rules anymore.”
They looked at each other and I laughed again. Oh, dear, now I was the crazy one.
The next morning I woke up refreshed with an odd
determination to photoshop my life a new brand of blue. Away with the desaturated melancholic hues and in with some funky cerulean tones.
I considered my new color as I showered. Which was fast. Still dreaded showers.
If I got really daring I could ditch blues altogether and opt for scarlet or electric lime.
Maybe.
Maybe I’d even go shopping for new clothes. That would shock everyone.
I finished my morning routine and sent everyone a mass text. Everyone except James and Cheyenne. It said:
In honor of simpler times, I’m about to toss my cell phone into the Susquehanna. Or maybe just donate it. Either way, if you want to contact me I’m only accepting in-person visits or letters. Yes, remember those? The kind you stuff in an envelope and put a stamp on. If it’s something important I suggest you stop by or send the letter far in advance. I will no longer be communicating via telephones. And no ... you can’t call Ella to relay messages. Letters and faces. Signing off now, so don’t bother texting if you want to know why I’m doing this. Over. And out.
I turned the phone off and smiled.
Ella tapped on the door frame and walked in.
“What’s the deal with the phone thing?” she said as she rubbed Adelaide’s head.
“I thought you, Miss Jane Austen, would understand.”
“Well, I like the romance of that time, but I appreciate the technology of today.”
“I’m just tired of being so easy to get in touch with. One text at the wrong time has the power to ruin your entire day if you let it. Information at the touch of a screen, whenever we want it. Google in our pockets. Social media while we’re driving. Nothing takes time and work anymore. How many contacts do I have in my phone? And how many of those people will keep in touch with me now that the relationship takes a little effort?”
“What about email?”
“Nope.”
“Wow. I mean, you know how I love simplicity, but isn’t this actually making things more difficult for you?”
“Depends how you look at it.” I grabbed my purse. “Some see a tattoo as a permanent scar of regret and some see it as art.”
“Are you getting a tattoo?”
I laughed. “Not yet.”
Twenty Four
March was never my favorite month of the year. Not in Pennsylvania at least. You’ve waited all winter for the first glimmer of spring and it arrives. That lovely sixty-degree day when everyone rolls their sleeves up and their car windows down.
Then, it snows. The next day. You whine inside and wait for it to melt, hoping by next Monday you’ll never need your jacket again. But you always do.
Today was a pleasant fifty-nine degree day, but I didn’t get my hopes up. In fact, the day reminded me to soak up the moment and stop living in tomorrow’s shoes before I’ve put today’s on.
Since giving up phone and email communication, the last days of winter skated by with more peace and stillness than I think I’d ever experienced in my life.
Ella made fun of me for constantly sitting by the window, staring out like an old woman as I scribbled in my journal. I’m sure it seemed like I was sitting there doing nothing, but I was planning for the spring.
For change.
Today, nice as it was outside, I left my perch and decided to go for a walk.
“Where ya going?” Ella said as I slid the back door open.
“A walk to the creek.”
“Oh. Let me leave a note for Gavin. He took Adelaide to the store to give me some time to clean, but I just finished and a walk sounds fun today.”
“Kay. I’ll be out here.”
“I remember the first time I came down here,” Ella said as she sat on a large rock at the edge of the creek. “You and Gavin are so much alike. We always joke that I married the male version of my best friend.”
“He’s so much girlier though.” I laughed as I skipped rocks into the shallow water.
“He’s sensitive.” She tried to defend him.
“I know, I know. It’s a good quality. I’m just kidding.”
We sat together without speaking. The water rolled over rocks creating a soothing sound. If I closed my eyes it felt like spring, but the buds on the trees were barely visible yet. So I kept them closed.
“You got two letters today,” Ella said. “One from Natalie and one from Sophia.”
“Natalie wants me to shoot some pictures for her new salon. She’s surprising Vasili. He thinks she wants to move to LA and he was willing to do it finally, but them she told me she’s just been messing with him. The salon in LA is starting an east coast branch and asked her to be the head cosmetologist. It’s some upscale place in New York. She plans to commute from Lancaster.”
“How’s that gonna work?”
“Don’t know. She’s pretty excited though.”
“What will he think?”
“I don’t think he’ll care that much, but he loves her so I’m sure he’ll be supportive.”
“You’re just like my husband.”
“What now?”
“You guys never say how you really feel. It’s like drawing blood from a corpse.”
I laughed. “Is it that bad?”
“Sometimes. For someone like me it’s one of the most irritating qualities imaginable and the two closest people to me both excel in it.”
“I’m not in love with Vasili, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Then what are you?”
“We’re like brother and sister. Their family has become so dear to me.”
“When will you read the letter Anastasia wrote you? The one taunting me on your dresser. I can’t believe you haven’t read it yet.”
“She said to wait until her birthday.”
“When’s that?”
“Next month. Two days after Vasili’s wedding.”
“We should head back.” Ella stood. “I feel weird without the baby. Oh, don’t tell Gavin yet. I haven’t said anything to anyone, but I took a pregnancy test this morning an—”
“Get out!”
She glowed and nodded.
“What? How? Adelaide is, what, seven months?”
She nodded again. A huge smile on her face.
“Wow. If I ever have kids it will be when your kids are ready to babysi
t.”
“That’s the first time you’ve said that like it’s a possibility.”
“What? Me having kids?”
“You’ve really been more positive lately. “
We walked back toward the house, over sticks and through barren trees, their branches resembling the veins of their own leaves, which would be budding soon. For a minute, it felt like we were kids again. All those days we spent in the woods at my grandma’s house, making mud pies and decorating them with wild berries, climbing trees, trying to catch bunnies. We came home dirty. Every time. So dirty our clothes were permanently stained. Eventually our parents gave us a special set of “mud clothes,” as they called them.
Then middle school changed us forever. Well, Ella not so much. She looked down and pretended not to hear when people made fun of her. I wasn’t so strong. I needed to do something.
“Do you remember that time in middle school when the popular kids made fun of us?”
She squinted and thought for a few minutes.
“When Carrie and Emma told us that Mark and Josh wanted to French kiss us in the stairwell after school?”
“Oh my goodness.” She laughed. “That was hilarious.”
“I wish I was still like that.” I touched the trees as we passed them. “I wish I still had that kind of nerve.”
“I’ll never forget their faces. They waited with those little disposable cameras. Who knows what they would’ve done, but you showed up dressed like Wednesday Adams with a fake tongue hanging to your belly button.”
I laughed. “Oh, man.”
We reached the last of the trees and began walking toward the hill. Their house sat at the top surrounded by a few trees, like something out of a nineteenth century movie.
“I wish I were still like that,” I said. “Once high school came around people actually thought I was pretty. Maybe if they didn’t I’d never have these problems. I’ve just gotten so used to trying to please people.”
“You would’ve had some kind of problem with yourself. We’re practically trained to hate ourselves in this world.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, if everyone loved their faces, then who would buy cosmetics? It’s a batrillion dollar business. Every commercial for that stuff is a big lie whispered to every woman, ‘You aren’t good enough like that. So buy this!’ Haven’t you seen all those magazines flaunting images of celebrities without makeup? I can’t stand that stuff.”
“But you wear makeup.”
“I never said I didn’t believe the lies myself.” She sighed. “Hard not to.”
We sat down at the top of the hill, out of breath, and looked back at the woods. Sometimes I longed to melt right into the earth. To become an integral part of a landscape. But even nature had it’s blemishes and scars—it’s power lines and blinking towers. What would the earth be like, what would we be like, if we never believed that we needed more than we were given?
“We’re all racing to our deaths,” I said, still looking ahead. “We always want more, more, more and it’s killing us.”
She nodded as she picked apart blades of grass. I gave her the look. She only picked at things when she was nervous or contemplative. I could tell it was the latter.
Eventually she blew the pieces of brown and green from her hand and reclined in the grass, looking up at the sky.
“There was a time,” she said, “when I wouldn’t sit in the grass like this because I was afraid my clothes would get dirty and my hair would get leaves in it.”
I leaned back and rested my head beside hers. I knew the feeling. A favorite dress was cared for with more vigilance than the heart and soul of the very person wearing it.
“It’s not just looks either,” I said. “It’s like Danny Gates. Remember him? He grew up in a roach-infested one bedroom house with six siblings. Now he lives in a ten bedroom house with one child. He says he can’t afford more. Growing up he didn’t have space or money or a nice house, so he values those things now. Probably the same way we value our hair and clothes.”
“Like I said, we’re trained to hate ourselves.”
“Maybe.” I thought for a few seconds. “Or maybe we’re trained to hate contentment.”
“True. Who’s doing the training?”
“The Grinch?”
We laughed as the sun brightened our faces and, perhaps, our lives.
“I may never get married, Ella. And I’m okay with that. Really, I am.” I sat up and looked at her. “I’m just thankful I have you. Not many people have a friendship like this. We’re opposites in so many ways, but when we strip down all these outer things and talk about life, the deep stuff, we’re the same.” I stood and didn’t brush off my jeans, or my hair. “Living with you for my recovery was exactly what I needed, because you’re one of the only people I know who actually lives.”
She stood and smirked.
“What?” I said.
“Vasili lives.”
“Vasili is engaged.”
“Are you really going to let him get married and never tell him how you really feel?”
“I’m not like that. He’s engaged. Their wedding is next month. I’m not telling him.”
“So ... you do love him, then?”
I shook my head. “You’re so annoying.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
Twenty Five
I stared at the note from Anastasia. Sealed. By her own hands. How does life slip by so fast? In my hospital bed I imagined my funeral many times. Lying there like a mummy, it was hard not to.
Today was the first day since then that I actually woke up and thanked God for another morning.
I grabbed my keys and purse and headed downstairs, then stopped and watched Ella mess up her hair and toss books on to the floor. I cleared my throat and she jumped. A messy stack of baby books sat at her feet.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Um.” She looked around like I caught her doing something wrong. “I was just making it look messy in here.”
“Do I want to know why?”
“I have guests coming. Are you coming tonight?”
“I thought people clean up for guests? You seem to be making a mess.”
She nodded. “Last time Heidi was here she made a comment about me and my house always looking so clean and put together, like it was so easy. I could tell she felt a little down on herself, so I just wanted to make it look a little haphazard this time.”
“But you love cleaning. It’s your favorite hobby.”
“Very funny.” She tossed a blanket to the floor. “I do love cleaning and it comes natural to me, but I can’t stand the idea of making someone else feel horrible because of me.”
“Ella.” I picked the blanket up. “You’re lying when you do this.” I set the blanket on the couch. “I can’t even believe you’re serious.”
“I just don’t want her to get upset and feel bad.”
“That’s noble.” I tried not to laugh. “But I don’t think it’s our job to make sure everyone feels comfortable. If you stroked my ego constantly and walked on egg shells doing everything to make me happy, I wouldn’t be smiling right now. I’d still be wallowing in my own misery. I don’t think it’s our job to prevent everyone from pain or insecurity. We can’t anyway. Just give her a hug and tell her we’re all different. Each with our own strengths and differences.”
“Don’t you do the same thing, Ms. People Pleaser?”
Gavin stepped into the room. “Oh, no. Not this again.”
I smiled. “I think I talked her into being normal. Don’t worry so much, Ella. If you’re clean, that’s fine. If not, so be it. Just be who you are.”
Gavin sighed. “And you know ... few people have the humility to succeed in hidi
ng their virtues.” He squeezed her shoulders. “You’re not that humble.”
“Thanks.” She leaned her head back and kissed his jaw. “Fine, fine. I’ll clean it back up and brush my hair.”
I said my goodbyes and laughed myself to the car.
Only Ella....
Natalie walked into the cafe, smiling as though she won the lottery. She sat across from me, tapped the table, and leaned in.
I waited, thinking she’d speak, but she stared at me without speaking. I asked her to meet me today because I wanted to tell her how I felt about Vasili. I couldn’t tell him behind her back. And I certainly couldn’t tell them at the same time. So I chose this path. Ella was right and it grated on me. I needed to be honest. With others. With myself. With everything. Even if I got hurt in the process.
“Yes?” I finally said.
“Oh my gosh.” She flapped her hands. “I think I’m gonna have a heart attack from all of this good news.”
“Okay....”
“Oh. My. Gosh.” She fanned herself. “Am I dreaming?”
“You look like something out of one of my nightmares, but no ... we’re awake. I think.”
She laughed. “Funny. Okay. First, what did you want to tell me?”
“You go first.” Please go first.
“Vasili booked our honeymoon. He just showed me the tickets today.”
I swallowed. “Oh. Where to?”
“Paris!” She nearly jumped out of her seat. “I’ve always wanted to go there. We’re staying for two whole weeks.”
“That’s ... great.” I thought of what I said to Ella earlier. “I thought Vasili always wanted to go to Greece for his honeymoon. Swim in the Aegean.”
“What? Really? Did he say that?”
“No. I just figured since he dreams about it so much.”
“Oh.” She looked down. “He’s always doing that for me. Sometimes I forget to even ask what he wants.”
“You don’t have to ask. Just listen.”
She nodded. “Maybe I should surprise him and change the trip so the last week is in Greece instead?”
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