by Jewel E. Ann
I giggle. “I knew it was Trevor and his regimented OCD.”
Avery’s busy messing with her phone but even she laughs at that truth.
“He doesn’t have OCD.”
I cock my head to the side. “Really? You’re going with that answer?”
“He’s just … clean and orderly.”
“Your spices are alphabetized.”
“A lot of people do that.”
“So are your refrigerated condiments. Barbecue sauce, ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, pickle relish, ranch dressing, steak sauce, Thousand Island dressing, and Worcestershire sauce. In. That. Order.”
“Yeah, that’s just not right.” Avery laughs.
“He does get a little weird when I put the pickle relish after the ranch.”
“Mmm hmm.” Avery and I nod with tight-lipped smiles.
“It’s neither here nor there. I’m off to bed, young things. Give me a hug.”
I squeeze her tight.
“Have a safe trip, Sydney. Love you.”
“You too, Elizabeth.”
Avery winks at me. “Goodnight,” we reply as Elizabeth goes upstairs.
We plop down on the couch and stare at the wrapped pictures leaning against the chair. Lautner haunts me. I’ve gone longer than twenty-four hours before without seeing or hearing from him, but it was different. I knew I would see him again. That’s no longer the case.
Avery knows where my mind is. “Please tell me you’re going to get piss-ass drunk on the plane tomorrow and forget about Dr. What’s His Name.”
I smile, still staring at the wrapped frames. “Can’t. I’m flying alone. I’m going to wait until the family I’m housesitting for leaves, and then I’m going to get piss-ass drunk and forget about Dr. What’s His Name.”
“You’d better screw a few hot Frenchmen for good measure as well.”
I weave my fingers through my long hair. “Of course. What’s the point of getting piss-ass drunk if not to wake up in a stranger’s bed.”
“That a girl,” Avery leans into me and rests her head on my shoulder. “I’m exhausted. Some bawl baby kept me up all night.”
I lean my head down on hers. “She sounds truly pathetic.”
“Totally.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
June 22nd, 2013
THE WEDDING
“Ready, sweetheart?” The deep voice on the other side of the door soothes me.
“Yeah. Come in, Dad.” I two-fist my white ballerina length tulle skirt and turn.
My dad has aged well. His thick black hair has some distinguished grey highlights, but his fit physique takes a good ten years off of his real age. I know he never imagined the circumstances that have led to this day or that it would have happened so soon for me. When I shared my news with him, the disappointment in his eyes couldn’t be masked, even behind all the love he’s given me.
Here we are and time has changed him too. He’s ready to walk me down the aisle and officiate over the ceremony. My father, the preacher¸ has accepted “God’s hand” in the events that have taken place over the past several years. And now he too gives thanks for the blessings that have been so unexpectedly bestowed upon us.
“Stunning.” He shakes his head and I fight back the tears.
My mouth curls into a tight lipped smile as I swallow a sea of emotions that stem back to the ten-year-old girl who lost her mom too early. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Your groom’s a little nervous.”
I cock my head to the side. “Really?”
“He never thought he’d see this day. You two have been through so much. He told me it still feels like a dream.”
I shrug. “Fate.”
He laughs. “This coming from my daughter who doesn’t believe in fate.”
“Yeah, well sometimes it’s the only explanation.”
“Here.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small box.
I open it. “Oh, Dad …” I’m at a loss for words.
“They were your mother’s—”
“I know,” I whisper, staring at the white gold and blue topaz teardrop earrings. “My birthstone. Mom told me you gave them to her the day I was born.”
He nods. I sense the emotions lodged in his throat.
“My something borrowed and something blue.” I smile, removing them from the box.
“Just something blue, sweetheart. They belong to you now.”
The corners of my eyes sting with tears as I put on the earrings.
“I’ll be right outside. Take your time.”
I think my dad needs his own private moment to gather his composure. Grabbing my bag, I dig through it until I find the folded up piece of paper that is nearly disintegrating after being handled, folded, and unfolded so many times. With a deep breath I read the words that have been etched in my head for years … for the last time.
Sydney,
I’ve held off writing this letter until the last possible minute. Today my hands are shaky and my body is weak. You and Avery just left with your dad to go home for the night. Since I’ve been at hospice the past week, every hug feels like the last. Every kiss feels like the last. Every goodbye feels like the last.
I know what I believe happens after death, and I hope the stories are true. I need you to always picture me in a wonderful place, healthy, happy, and watching you grow up into the beautiful woman I know you’ll be. It’s so unfair to ask this of you, but I want you to take care of Avery. She’s going to need you, the way she’s needed me. Love her unconditionally and lead by example.
You’re too young to understand this now, but someday you’ll read this again and know exactly what I mean. Don’t be afraid to fall. Sometimes the perspective we need most is from the ground. Don’t be afraid to succeed. Sometimes we don’t shoot for the sky because we don’t look high enough. Hence, the view from the ground. Follow your dreams with steadfast determination. Never settle. Open your heart to endless possibilities, and risk it all for a moment, when the moment is right.
Life may not always seem fair, but that’s how you’ll know you’re living it. I’ll always be watching you, and I want you to take me with you for as long as you need me. Then someday … maybe five years from now, maybe twenty, you’ll be ready to let me go. When that day comes … do it! Set me free and you’ll feel the weight of your past lift. Spread your wings and soar, my sweet baby girl. Make a difference in the world—make your mark.
Sydney Ann Montgomery, you will ALWAYS be loved by me.
I’ll see you in the stars. ~Mom
I fold the fragile letter for the last time and lay it to rest in the trash.
“I’ve found my wings, Mom. I’ve even made my mark on the world already.” I laugh. “I’ve read your letter hundreds of times and it’s been both a blessing and a curse. I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted to live the life that was stolen from you. I wanted redemption … for the both of us. But then I risked it all when the moment was right. I opened my heart to endless possibilities and I found the unexpected … I found myself.” I dab away the moisture from the corners of my eyes with the pads of my fingers.
There’s a knock at the door. I look high in the sky out the window. “Goodbye, Mom.”
“Hey, talking to yourself again?” Avery asks, peeking inside the room.
“Just a conversation between me and my two best friends.”
Avery raises a single eye brow in confusion.
I smile. “Me, myself, and I.”
She shakes her head. “Let’s go, princess. Everyone’s waiting on you.”
“How’s my groom?”
“Nervous, handsome, fidgety, but completely sexy and dying to see his beautiful bride.”
“Well then, let’s not keep the good doctor waiting any longer.”
“Where’s my flower girl?” I ask my dad as he leads me down the hall toward the sanctuary doors.
“Your sister took her to the bathroom one last time. She was dancing a jig.”
“Mom
my!” I hear my favorite voice in the whole world call to me as I turn around and watch bouncing brunette curls atop a white tulle dress with daisy inlays come barreling at me.
I bend down and open my arms to catch her. “Hey, baby girl.” Her smile is infectious and her cheeks are rosy from running around all morning. I kiss her forehead to mother-test for a fever. She’s been running a high fever off and on over the past twenty-four hours. I’ve considered postponing the wedding but Dr. Know It All insists it’s just a viral infection and she’ll be fine. She still feels warm, but I chalk it up to all the running around. I sigh, looking past her long eyelashes into breathtaking blue irises that sparkle with life.
Daddy’s eyes.
“Where’s your ring bearer?” I ask.
“Avy … doggie.”
“Here he is.” Avery’s voice calls from the side door.
Swarley, AKA the ring bearer, trots over to us. He’s dressed in a dog tux and has a special collar with a box, that presumably, has the rings in it.
“Little Miss Ocean Ann, take your doggie’s leash and follow Aunt Avy down the aisle just like we practiced last night.”
“Mommy.” She smiles and kisses my cheek, I melt.
“Ready?” My dad confirms as we wait the final few seconds before the piano starts to play Elvis Costello’s “She.”
Nodding, I take a deep breath as I round the corner and watch everyone stand and turn to look at me. A quick glance at Avery and Ocean then my eyes go straight to my awaiting groom. He’s the epitome of handsome. I don’t take my eyes off his until my dad gives me away and takes his spot at the altar.
I’m a little nervous but his large hands steady mine and calm my nerves. My mind is everywhere. I try to focus on the words my dad is saying. He’s worked hard on his sermon and choosing the appropriate scriptures, but his voice is white noise to me. This day is so significant. The weaving of events that has led to this moment is surreal.
Focus, Sydney!
“Dane, do you take Sydney to be your lawfully wedded wife, to …”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
July 17th, 2010
Paris is not what I imagined it would be. It’s more. A plethora of famous buildings, chic fashion, and a perfect mix of old European and contemporary culture. Then there is the art. There are no words. Books, photos, and even YouTube videos don’t do it justice. Of course Musée du Louvre consumed my first week here. The Tuileries Gardens behind the Louvre are formally French landscaped gardens with contemporary sculptures. I ate lunch all three days at a café there. In a few weeks the Fair of the Tuileries, the second largest Parisian fair, begins. I’ve been told there will be slides, trampolines, bumper cars, and a big wheel merry-go-round. It’s said to be more reminiscent of fairs in old films.
My attempt to drown my sorrows in a tall bottle of wine backfired on me, more than once. I’m not sure if I caught something on the plane or what, but I’ve struggled with a persistent stomach bug. I’ve been passed out on the couch feeling miserable almost as much as I’ve been checking things off my Paris bucket list. Today doesn’t look too promising for venturing out. The hidden blessing is there is no pet requiring attention. However, I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss Swarley to some degree. The crazy pooch grew on me, or it’s possible he let me feel a little less insane. With him around it didn’t feel like I was talking to myself all the time.
“Oh, God—” I race to the bathroom, heaving the remainder of my stomach contents, which isn’t much.
Kneeling on the floor, I glance up and suck in some much needed air. Something catches my eye.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
The box of tampons sitting on the toilet topper is a flashing neon sign. It doesn’t take much thought; I know exactly when I started my last period. After all, I posted a sign on the door.
“Oh my God. I’m late … really late.”
A quick trip to the pharmacy on the corner with the signature green cross above it and I’m back with six sticks.
Pee. + “No!”
Pee. + “Shit!”
Pee. + “Shit shit shit!”
A large glass of water and fifteen minutes later.
Pee. + “Damit!”
Pee. + “Fuck … no!”
Pee. + Tears…
*
Numb. Nauseous but numb. I recall this feeling, or lack thereof. Our parents sat me and Avery down in the living room and explained that “mommy is sick.” It was the moment I realized everything I thought I knew was no longer true. The trip to Disney postponed … then cancelled. Every parent in the bleachers watching their child swim in the State Meet except mine. Birthday cakes in a box from the store—no more frosting covered beaters to fight over or spoons to lick.
Right now, everything I thought I knew is a lie. I’m not going to grad school. My father will no longer be proud of me. Redeeming the future that my mom lost is now just a tarnished memory. I’m a fucking failure a half a world away from my heart I left behind in Palo Alto.
“Jesus, Lautner.” Tears stream down my face as I sit in a chair with my knees hugged to my chest.
He’s pursuing his dreams. Three demanding years of pediatric residency. I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to see me on his doorstep until the moment I tell him I’m jobless, knocked up, and his new responsibility. It’s too overwhelming. All I want to do is wakeup from this nightmare, but I can’t. Tears aren’t this wet in dreams and when the pain is this intense, the dream ends.
I have to call Avery. It’s too much to take on by myself. We’ve always been there for each other to share the emotional burdens of life. This though … this will blow her mind.
“You do realize it’s still early here right?” She answers her phone with her characteristic smart ass commentary.
“Ave—” I release a sob.
“Sydney, what’s wrong?” Her tone changes.
I hear her concern through the phone, see her wrinkled face, feel her arms around me.
“I’m—I’m—pregnant.” My voice breaks.
The words hang heavy in the air. The silence on the line says it all. She’s shocked too, and there are no words of comfort. Avery knows me too well. She understands that this is the worst possible thing that could happen to me and not just because I’m twenty-three, unmarried, and not finished with school. It’s our mom. As many times as I have denied it to her, Elizabeth, my father, and myself, I wanted to achieve what our mom never did.
“Sydney … are you sure?”
“Yes, God, yes. I pissed on six fucking sticks. They’re all positive.” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and sniffle.
“What are you going to do? I mean are you going to ke—”
“Jesus, yes, I’m going to keep it! Dad just had surgery on his heart, this is going to disappoint him beyond words but … an abortion would put him in the grave.”
“He wouldn’t have to know,” Avery says with slow caution.
“Mom would … and so would I.”
“Are you going to tell Lautner?”
I pause as if to think about my answer, but there’s nothing to think about.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When I come home. I’ll change my tickets and fly to Palo Alto instead of going back to Illinois. Lautner needs to know before Dad. But I don’t want to tell him over the phone. This has to be said in person.”
“Sydney … it will …” Avery doesn’t finish.
It’s our unspoken no bullshit rule. She can’t tell me it’s going to be okay and I can’t tell her I’ll be fine. So we share the only thing we know for certain.
“I’m here for you, Sydney, and … I love you.”
“Love you too, Ave.”
*
July 25th, 2010
My Paris bucket list is a joke. Three weeks and I can’t remember the feeling I had when I took the sunset cruise on the Seine watching the monuments come to life with slow illumination. The cold tile under my knees, the echo of my heaving stomac
h, the ghostly reflection in the mirror, and those damn plus signs are all that are seared into my mind. Sure, I have memory sticks filled with photos but they might as well have been taken by someone else because I don’t remember being in those places.
The twelve hour journey back to the West Coast is exhausting, especially in a crowded plane with a barf bag in hand in case the toilets are occupied. Other than needing to escape the herd-like claustrophobia, I’m in no hurry to get … anywhere. For the first time that I can remember, I have no direction. Where will I be living in a week … a month … a year? What job will I find with a bachelors degree in Art History and a baby? How will my dad react? How will Lautner react?
Lautner. There’s a hollowness inside me from missing him so much. Time didn’t ease the pain, it multiplied it. There is a slideshow on my computer with his pictures and Peter Gabriel’s voice reminding me how complete I felt in his eyes. I’ve played it at least a hundred times. My head tells me to forget, but my heart won’t allow it. It’s been nearly a month since I’ve seen his face, heard his voice, felt his touch. No calls or texts asking about my Dad or Paris or me. The day I left, there was the moment when I felt like something severed inside me, like something died. It was my heart. Not the shattering that I felt when he yelled at me, not the heavy shame of not trusting him, it was Lautner letting go of me. The connection between us being ripped apart … severed.
*
The violent pounding of my heart intensifies my already nauseous state. I step out of the cab and spot a black 4Runner. He’s here. It’s a little after nine o’clock at night, and there’s a mugginess in the air. Lugging my suit cases into the entry, I leave them and take the stairs to Lautner’s apartment one shaky step at a time. My pulse is a rhythmic bass in my ears. Drawing in a calming breath, I push back the unsettling churning in my stomach.
“Here goes everything.” I knock on the door.
No answer.
With more force I knock again. Wringing my hands together, I chew on the inside of my cheek. Just as I start to turn away, the door opens.
Lautner’s making love to me for the first time, lazy afternoons by the pool and at the beach. Flowers, tea, and pastry bags waiting at the door. Blue irises. Lips pressed against my skin. Condoms. Tears. Taillights in the distance.