ONCE UPON ANOTHER TIME

by McQuestion, Rosary

  My mother placed a hand on my shoulder. “What your Aunt Millie had is not hereditary, she said. “Look, you turned out just fine. Nothing weird about you--thank God.”

  * * * *

  The sheets felt cool on my bare shoulders as I drew them up under my chin. I couldn’t sleep that night thinking about Aunt Millie. I didn’t want to be tortured like that. I just wanted to be normal.

  Like that could ever happen.

  I reached over to my night table, picked up the heart-shaped pendant bracelet I’d lost so many years before, not understanding how it could suddenly appear, and wondering if Matt really did materialized at the cemetery. Lying on my back, I dangled the bracelet above me, watching the pendant twirl and glint as it caught a glimmer of moonlight. I rubbed my thumb over the inscription on the back. “Where are you Matt?” I said under my breath, and seconds later, I heard the gentle tinkling of wind chimes.

  I shot up in bed and set the bracelet back on the night table. The sheer curtains billowed like sails on a boat, as a breeze blew in through the open window. The feeling of warm breath on my face and a light brush to my cheek had me leaping from my bed. My heart thrummed as I scanned the moonlit room. A faintly jumping shadow cast from a tree limb, danced on the wall.

  “Hi Aubrey,” I heard Matt whisper. When from behind me, I felt a movement and spun around to look, my breath stalling in my chest at the sight of him mere inches from me, and his skin glistening like smooth, white pearls.

  The heirloom music box adorned with beautiful cast silver dragonflies, sitting on the night table, began to play “Moon River.” The pinging of musical notes blending with the mystical tinkling chimes created an atmosphere of a very surreal world. The kind of world found only inside the pages of a magical book of fairytales.

  It was as if Matt were standing on a dark stage with a brilliant spotlight shining down on him. I could see every feature of his face in detail, and his smile was like the warmth from the sun. I gazed at him in all his bewildering perfection, at every thick wave of his blond-streaked hair, how the outer corners of his smoldering amber eyes crinkled, the slight indentation of the dimple in his strong chin, and full lips that used to cover mine.

  “Aubrey, our son is an amazing little boy.”

  Covering my mouth with my hands, I felt that surely I must be dreaming. At the same time, I wanted to dash into Nicholas’s bedroom and rouse him from sleep to see this spectacular sight of his father.

  Lowering my hands, I felt it difficult to find my voice, but finally managed. “Yes, and he looks just like you,” I said, barely able to grasp the remarkable phenomenon of conversing with a ghost. Slowly raising my hand to touch his face, I suddenly pulled back. Gripping the front of my nightgown, I was afraid that my touch would somehow throw off the balance of the spirit world. That Matt would shatter like fine crystal dropping on concrete.

  “So it was you at the cemetery,” I said, as I relaxed my arm to my side.

  He nodded. “I’ve also watched him sleep. I’ve watched you sleep, too,” he said, in his beefed up New Jersey accent, while smiling at me like a TV anchorman.

  The giddiest feeling bubbled up inside me, feeling as if I could stay in this moment forever. “You really are here!” I marveled at the ridiculous notion that it was like being at the seaside village of Whitecliff having a Ghost & Mrs. Muir moment.

  “Matt, how is this possible?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I have no control over it. All I know is that I’m supposed to be here, but only for a very short time.”

  In that instant, I felt a sense of urgency to speak the most important words of my life. My heart was racing so fast, it was as if it were tripping over itself when words rushed from my mouth.

  “Matt, please forgive me for being so angry at you that morning.”

  My chest was heaving, as I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I blame myself for your accident. It was because of my actions and--”

  “Aubrey, stop.” Matt’s expression turned sympathetic. “Hey, what happened was not your fault. I had let you down that day, many days. You were right. Although not intentional, I made promises I didn’t keep. I was mad at myself for letting work interfere with our lives. You had every right to be angry and I ran off--”

  “But I was the one who shouted at you to leave.”

  He shook his head, and thrust his hands into his pant pockets like two dead weights. His body seemed to be fading, his features becoming muted.

  “I could have stayed and talked. Instead, I ran to blow off some steam, not angry with you, angry at myself. I ran until my lungs burned when finally I came to my senses. I’d made up my mind I was going to call work and tell them they’d have to finish the building design without me.”

  “Oh, Matt,” I moaned, like some wounded animal.

  “I stopped running, but it was so foggy, I couldn’t get my bearings. I knew I was close to the ocean. I could hear the waves crashing. I pulled the cell phone out of the pocket of my sweat pants to call and tell you that you and our son are the most important things in my life. I didn’t realize what was happening, until it was too late and the earth gave way under my feet. That’s all I remember.”

  I tried to keep it together, but Matt being from somewhere out in the universe known to mere mortals as heaven, I was sure he felt my anguish. “I’ve never stopped loving you,” I said and lowered my head, not wanting him to see my eyes well up.

  Matt pulled his hands from his pant pockets and put a finger under my chin. I felt a soft, tingling sensation like static electricity against my skin. My eyes met with his as the spotlight over his head began to dim. “Mon petit chaton, I will love you for all eternity. It’s important that you remember these words. And now, you have to move on with your life.”

  The thrilling ripple of his deep voice was like gin on the rocks to my ears.

  “Just be sure to find me,” he said.

  “About that statement, I don’t understand what you’re--”

  Matt leaned forward and pressed his soft lips to mine. My eyes closed, while his kiss sent a tingling sensation to every part of my body. The love I felt was amazing. I could feel his body pressed to mine, his arms around my waist, my fingers running through his hair. He was real, as real as any person alive could feel and he was there by some miracle, some supernatural phenomenon I couldn’t understand.

  An exhilarating energy swept through me like the winds of time swirling and lifting me off my feet. All sense of time had vanished, while a flickering slideshow flashed wonderful moments of our lives spent laughing, our first kiss, the day we got engaged, our romantic vacations, the joy we felt knowing we were going to have a baby, all of it, every moment of our lives lived out as we kissed.

  My eyes opened slowly like the blossoming of a flower. The music was no longer playing, and Matt was gone. I crashed onto the bed and sat for a while in near exhaustion of my heart beating like I’d just swum ten laps in an Olympic sized pool, when my hand hit on something beside me. I switched on the bedside lamp. Lying on the bed was the book Matt had so cleverly used to leave clues for me. I looked at it thinking there were a million questions I had wanted to ask him. And then I felt the most overwhelming feeling inside me, like I’d gotten the gift of a fresh new start.

  I fell backward on the bed as if someone had shoved me, while bracing the book to my chest. As I stared up at the shadows across the ceiling, tears rolled from the corner of my eyes, wetting the tips of my ears.

  The past had always seemed like an old door creaking on its hinges, not able to keep closed but not able to open completely either. That night, the closing of that door was bittersweet. Although my heart was on the mend, my husband was gone forever--for the second time.

  Sixteen

  Breathe I kept reminding myself during the two hours of preparation for my first date with Gavin. I felt as if I was about to go on a bungee jump instead of a date. I stood over the bathroom sink and watched with horror
as my last anti-anxiety pill fell into the sink. It circled like a tiny spinning ball on a roulette wheel--once, twice, and dropped into the drain.

  Probably for the best, a repeat performance of the night I’d first met Gavin would have him running for the hills. I ran my fingers through my hair and winced. My skin felt tender from the scalp scorching I’d gotten while blow-drying the frizz out of my hair.

  I peered down at the lavender soap bar in the china holder. The scent tickled my nose and made my stomach feel queasy. Although terrified, I thought back to the strong role models I grew up with like Dynasty’s Krystle and Alexis, and like Madonna, although my hair was dark, I used to have blonde ambition when it came to dating.

  I straightened my posture throwing my shoulders back. To hell with my scared feelings. I unbuttoned my white silk blouse to show a hint of cleavage. Attitude--that’s all I needed. I grabbed my makeup brush. As I applied one more sweep of blush to my cheeks, a loud knock to the bathroom door startled me. The makeup brush flew out of my hand and plunked into the toilet bowl.

  “Aubrey, I heard a car pull into the driveway. I think it might be your date. Should I let him in?”

  “No Mother, I’ll get the door. You go sit with Dad in the living room.” I watched as the brush sank to the bottom of the bowl like a naval submarine on dive. I bolted from the bathroom, then slowed down to straighten the front slit on my slate blue silk skirt, hoping it wasn’t too short. The only thing worse than knobby knees was having exposed knobby knees.

  In the foyer, I stopped, took a deep breath, grabbed the pewter door handle, and hesitated. Suddenly I imagined Matt saying, what are you waiting for? I took one more glance in the foyer mirror and with much resolve, quickly opened the door.

  “Aubrey,” Laura said, as she shot in past me. “I saw the black Escalade parked out front and figured it must be Gavin’s.”

  “Escalade?” I glanced at the stainless steel Waring Blender she was holding.

  “I happened to remember that I forgot to return this,” she said, as she shoved the blender into my arms, and craned her neck to see over my shoulder into the living room. “And since I hadn’t had a chance to really talk to Gavin, other than that awkward, confusing moment in your office, I thought I’d drop by and maybe, um, just say hi. I promise I won’t keep you.”

  I shifted the weight of the blender to one arm and pushed the door closed. “Gavin doesn’t drive an Escalade. He drives a Ford pickup and he hasn’t arrived yet.”

  Laura’s eyes widened, her lips fell open. “Oooh, Ford pickup--he must be the adventurous, rugged type.”

  “I think it has more to do with practicality and the line of work he’s in rather than a connection to his psyche.”

  “Hmm,” she said, as she cocked her head and pointed a pink pearlized fingernail considering my blouse. “Did you get that ‘lift’ bra I suggested?”

  I looked down at my cleavage. “No, these are mine.”

  “Well, it’s definitely a very sexy look on you.”

  I immediately panicked, as the word slut came to mind. One handedly, I fumbled trying to button the blouse.

  “Stop that,” Laura said, as she smacked my fingers. “The last thing you want to do is look like a Victorian maiden.”

  The doorbell chimed and startled both of us.

  “Here,” I said, shoving the blender back at her. “Get in the great room with the rest of the nosy Nellie’s.”

  I tucked an annoying lock of hair behind my ear and checked my lipstick in the mirror. I opened the door and my heart thumped as I took in Gavin’s clean, fresh shower sexiness, smoothly shaven golden skin, and dark, damp hair. Dressed in creased black pants and a crisp white shirt, his light aloe scent filled the foyer as I welcomed him in.

  “Hi,” he said. “You look great.”

  “Thank you,” I said, while feeling the perspiration form on my upper lip.

  “I’d like you to meet my parents and my son,” I said while bringing him into the great room, when it dawned on me that I should have given him a heads-up on my parents.

  Everyone sat on the sofa lined up like parishioners in a church pew, while watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition, an all-day marathon. Flared jeans grazed the tops of my father’s long toes poking out from his Jesus sandals. His long silvery hair fell loose around his shoulders. With teary eyes gazing at the TV and his face contorting into an array of charged emotion, he looked like a psychotic Willie Nelson.

  Mother smoothed the front of her long tie-dyed wrap skirt, straightened the off-shoulder look of her white peasant blouse, and raised her eyes to look at Gavin. Her smile resembled the saints they depict in religious books, while Laura sat looking sober as a nun, cradling the Waring blender like a babe in her arms. Nicholas smiled broadly at Gavin.

  Screams came from the TV as the Home Edition family saw their new house and I introduced Gavin.

  * * * *

  Gavin took me to a restaurant on Federal Hill, commonly known as Providence’s Little Italy. The Italian restaurant was a favorite of mine with its shaded Mediterranean wall sconces that gave off a soft romantic amber glow and the textured walls and beautiful interior gave it that old world charm. My body tingled, as he put his hand on the small of my back in a courteous way to guide me through the restaurant.

  The wall lined with dark wooden booths and brown leather cushioning, is where I sat. Gavin settled in the dining chair across from me. It was still hard for me to believe that the handsome man with the strong straight nose and generous lips who sat across from me was a living, breathing version of the man in my dream. Words like amazing, terrified, and hypnotic sprung into my head as our eyes met and danced a long dance, broken only when a waiter came to take our drink orders.

  As the waiter walked away, Gavin clasped his hands together and leaned forward over the table. “Well, you’re so beautiful I barely know what to say.”

  “So are you,” I unintentionally blurted out while feeling my face turn very warm. Never had I classified a man as beautiful. I shook my head and felt a little embarrassed, as we both laughed it off.

  As soon as we started talking, I immediately felt a high level of comfortableness with him. We talked about our careers and touched on family. He didn’t go into much detail about his parents, but I sensed he was curious about mine. So I began by saying I was thankful for many things about them, especially for them not naming me Fawn, Dusk, or Moonbeam.

  We touched on a variety of topics and somehow got on the subject of embarrassing dating moments. He wanted me to tell him about my worst experience. With so many tiebreakers, it was tough to choose just one.

  “Okay, I’d say my worse date ever was a snowmobile date.”

  “Somehow, I can’t picture you on a snowmobile,” he said.

  “I couldn’t either. Funny the things we do out of desperation,” I said, with a self-deprecating laugh. “Anyway, we drove for what seemed like hours on backcountry roads and ended up lost in the middle of nowhere with my bladder ready to explode. We had spotted an old, abandoned gas station, but the restroom door was locked. So, I ran behind a metal partition behind the gas station, which was probably where a dumpster once sat.”

  “Hmm,” said Gavin, as he raised an eyebrow.

  “Unfortunately, that was the only cover available. I’d worn a bulky one-piece snowmobile suit, something I’d borrowed from a friend. I unzipped it all the way down and squatted in the snow, the down-filled nylon around the ankles of the boots I’d worn.”

  “Your suit pulled down to your ankles,” Gavin parroted, as he rested his forearms on the table and began to chuckle.

  “Worse, was when I realized I couldn’t pull the suit back up.”

  “Why not?”

  “The cold twenty degree weather had stuck my warm, moist hand to the metal partition that I used to brace myself.”

  Gavin instantly busted into hysterical laughter.

  “There’s more.”

  “More?” he asked, barely able to speak
, while tears filled his eyes.

  “Yes. Not knowing my situation, my date called out from the other side of the partition wanting to know if I was having a good time. Of course, I had no choice but to tell him I needed help. Bad enough it was humiliating, but then he left me there squatting in the snow while he raced off to the nearest store to get a couple bottles of water to loosen my fingers. I got frostbite in places I never thought was possible.”

  Gavin laughed so hard I was worried he’d have a coronary. I never thought things like that were funny. I always thought of them as just another failed, humiliating dating experience. However, that evening Gavin made me feel like the funniest and most interesting person alive. It was as if I’d finally saw the humor in my life and laughed along with him until I was breathless.

  “I don’t think I can top that,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes, as the waiter arrived with our dinners.

  “A toast,” said Gavin, as he raised his glass. “Here’s to the only woman who has ever made me cry--from laughing so hard.”

  “Cheers,” I said, as our glasses clinked together.

  “So, what do you think about the restaurant?” Gavin asked, while he used his fork to separate the grilled mixed vegetables on his plate.

  “Actually, it’s one of my favorite restaurants,” I told him. “And they have a great wine selection.”

  “Speaking of which,” Gavin said, “would you believe my grandfather actually learned to stomp grapes while stationed in Italy in World War II?”

  “Really, I often wondered if there were sanitary issues involved with that.”

  “Winemaking is a very sterile process,” he said, as he herded pieces of summer squash to the edge of his plate. Matt would do the same thing if squash happened to be a vegetable that came with his meal.

  Gavin went on to explain winemaking and that the alcohol kills the germs. It was fun listening to him tell the story about his grandfather. He flailed his arms around and at one point, I thought he was going to jump up and demonstrate the stomping process. He was like an excited little boy, same way Matt would get when telling a story about something that interested him.