The Truest of Words

by Georgina Guthrie

  “Wow, are you sitting on your phone?” I said.

  “Babe, my phone’s on vibrate. If I was sitting on it, I guarantee I would have let it ring more than once.”

  “That sounds desperate. Jeremy leaving you high and dry?”

  “Not at all. I’m actually kind of sore,” she whispered. “And, holy shit, my jaw—”

  “Whoa! TMI. Glad you’re getting your freak on, but don’t wanna know the painful details.”

  “You asked!”

  “Consider this me officially un-asking.” I snickered as I thought of Jeremy and Julie christening their new place. Daniel and I had been there, done that, and bought not just the T-shirt, but the whole wardrobe—which, of course, he’d then organized according to color and sleeve length.

  “So, what’s going on?” Julie asked. “Everything went okay with the concert rounds?”

  “Yeah, we hit Lee’s Palace last night.”

  “And did you end up seeing anyone you knew?”

  “Nope. Not a single person. Daniel and I might as well have been going out all semester. So annoying. But that’s not why I called. Jer hasn’t responded to any of Daniel’s texts in the last couple of days. Is he okay?”

  Julie sighed. “He’s dealing with something and kind of in his own head space right now, but he’s fine. Tell Daniel not to worry. He’ll be in touch when he’s ready.”

  We talked for a few more minutes, but as always, Julie was on the fly. After she’d wished me good luck at my convocation, we hung up, and I re-joined Daniel in the living room.

  “Jeremy’s fine,” I said, dropping my phone on the coffee table and sinking onto the couch. “Julie said he’s distracted and dealing with something, but you don’t need to worry about him.”

  “Wow, that’s as cryptic as something my dad would say.”

  I gave him best stern face. “Cryptic or not, stop worrying.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I smiled wistfully, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “You okay?”

  “Is it weird that I’m nervous about telling my mom about my new job? I’m sure it’s not what she or my dad imagined me doing after getting a four-year degree. I’m the only child, so there’s just me to make them proud, you know?”

  “All children want to please their parents. I can’t imagine your mom and dad being anything less than a hundred percent proud of you. When that issue of Sidelines is published with your first article in there for them to see, they’ll be thrilled. Plus you’re about to graduate with distinction. How could they be disappointed? You’re amazing.”

  “In your completely unbiased opinion?”

  “I’m well-versed in being completely unbiased when assessing your achievements, Aubrey,” he said. “Three months of practice, remember?”

  Chapter 19

  Change

  No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change…

  …This I do vow and this shall ever be;

  I will be true…

  (Sonnet 123)

  WAITING FOR MY MOTHER at the arrivals gate, I second-guessed my decision not to let Daniel come with me to pick her up. But no, this was better. I wanted to see my mom first and spend some time with her before introducing her to Daniel.

  I peered over the heads of the people in front of me, watching families and loved ones reuniting. Airports were great places to people-watch. When my mother finally breezed through the doors, pushing her luggage cart with one hand while holding her straw hat to her head with the other, I was caught off-guard by the emotional heft of seeing her.

  Mom.

  I squeezed through the crowd, waving to catch her attention. She smiled and waved back.

  “Aubrey! Hi!”

  I tried to speak, but a sudden tightness closed my throat, so I just laughed through my tears as she rushed down the exit ramp, wrestling with the cart whose wheels clearly wanted to go a different way. She hugged me fiercely, and my knees almost gave way as the familiar scent of perfume and peppermint chewing gum washed over me.

  “Mom…”

  “Oh, Aubrey. I missed you, honey.” She laughed, rocking me from side to side.

  “I missed you too.”

  I held onto her for a long time and then finally let go, rifling through my pockets for a Kleenex as she smiled and licked her thumbs, gently rubbing them under my eyes.

  “Aw, sweetie. Come on, let’s get out of here. Which is the best way to go to get a taxi?” she asked. I relieved her of the meandering cart, and we headed for the exit.

  I sniffed, recovering from my silly outburst and trying to regain my bearings. “Um, we don’t need to get a taxi. Daniel ordered a car service.”

  “Daniel. That’s your new boyfriend?”

  “He really wanted to drive me here to pick you up himself, but I wanted some time with you first. He booked us a car.”

  “How thoughtful,” she said.

  “He’s definitely thoughtful, Mom.” I pushed the cart down the sidewalk toward the waiting car.

  The driver hopped out, popping the trunk and greeting my mother with a welcoming smile. My mom grinned at me as he held the door open for her and we clambered into the back seat while he dealt with her suitcase. She ran her hands over the leather seats.

  “A Cadillac Escalade? Aubrey, there’s thoughtful, and then there’s saint-like.”

  My mom picked aimlessly at the remnants of her tandoori chicken. Good thing I’d waited until she’d almost finished eating before I’d dropped the bomb. She seemed to lose her appetite the minute I revealed my news.

  “So, let me get this straight. You quit a perfectly good job to go to concerts and write for a magazine. And you’re dating a boy who—”

  I cringed. “He’s really not a boy, Mom.”

  “Okay, you’re dating a man who has a condo in the Distillery District and a boat docked at Centre Island. His family has a house in Forest Hill and a million dollar cottage up north. He takes you places like Auberge du Pommier and buys Tiffany jewelry…” She gestured to the pendant at my neck, sighing extravagantly. “I don’t know. This doesn’t sound like you.”

  I groaned and slumped back in the booth. She took a long drink of her margarita, gazing at me across the table. I wished I hadn’t told her so much about Daniel and his family.

  “You’re making him sound snooty and pretentious. He’s not,” I said defensively.

  “Auberge du Pommier? Tiffany’s? I don’t think I’m reading into this, Aubrey.”

  I placed my hands palm-down on the table, trying to collect my thoughts.

  “I know it sounds like he’s ostentatious, but he isn’t. He and his family are down-to-earth. They live in a big house and eat in nice restaurants, but Daniel feels just as comfortable in ripped jeans and a concert T-shirt, ordering takeout pizza. He likes to spoil me once in a while, that’s all.”

  “And how do you feel about all this?” she asked, pushing her plate away and poking at her drink with her straw.

  “At first I was overwhelmed. I forced him to stop buying me gifts because I was uncomfortable.”

  “And how did he react to that?”

  I smiled wistfully. “He got creative. He made me a CD and picked flowers from a friend’s garden. He doesn’t use his money as a crutch. At first I thought that’s what he was doing as well, but now I know that’s not true. Sometimes I even forget about the money.”

  As I made this admission, I recognized the truth behind it. What at first might have been a desperate attempt to defend Daniel to my mother was actually the plain truth. It was easy to forget about Daniel’s money. The misgivings I’d had all those weeks ago about conspicuous consumption and pretensions were unfounded. He was just as happy eating nachos and beer and then heading to Lee’s Palace for a concert as he was getting dressed up and dining at Auberge du Pommier.

  “He’s the real deal, Mom. He treats me well because he loves me.”

  “And you?” She squeezed my hand. “How do you feel about him?”

>   “Honestly? I love him too. He’s amazing.” Mom pursed her lips. “He’s not perfect. I’m not blind to his flaws,” I said. “He can be broody and overprotective sometimes. He has a hard time letting things go when he’s upset, and he has…anxiety issues…but he’s working through all that. I’m not idealizing him. We recognize each other’s imperfections. We complement each other.”

  “You sound happy.”

  “I am, Mom. So happy. Really.”

  “That’s all your dad and I have ever wanted for you. And as far as this writing business goes, you can do whatever you want, as long as you’re being true to yourself and you enjoy doing it.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Aubrey, come on, really? I’m upset that you didn’t tell me earlier, but I don’t care what you pursue as a career.” She gestured to herself. “Look at me—making candles, selling handmade jewelry at craft shows—I do it because I enjoy it. Luckily, I have Rick to help with the bills. That’s the tricky part. How does the writing pay?”

  I grimaced. “Freelance writers for small magazines get paid about ten to fifteen cents a word.”

  “And you’re not writing two-thousand-word articles, I bet.”

  “No.” I chuckled.

  “That would be my only concern. It’s nice to throw yourself into something you love, but you do need a roof over your head and meals on the table, not to mention some money of your own. Your room at residence is paid for until the end of July, right?”

  “That’s right. I haven’t been staying there much lately. Matt’s girlfriend moved in, and it’s a bit cramped. I’ve kind of been staying at Daniel’s here and there…”

  Mom raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

  “I haven’t moved in with him or anything. Almost all of my stuff is still at Jackman.” I looked at her uneasily. “Daniel wants me to move in…”

  “But you’re not sure?”

  I shook my head.

  “And why’s that?” she asked gently.

  “What if it doesn’t work out? I feel so young. Look at you and Dad…”

  “When I was twenty-three, you were already four years old. Now, that was too young. Your dad and I didn’t grow apart, we just…grew up. We were kids. We didn’t understand ourselves. How could we possibly understand each other?” She smiled sadly. “But just because we screwed up doesn’t mean you will. You can’t let my history with your dad dictate your decisions and actions.”

  “I don’t mean to. I guess I’m just trying to learn from it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.” She patted my hand. “You’re so much more grounded than I’ve ever been. Your dad and I are so proud of you. You know he’s crushed that he can’t be here, right?”

  “I know. He sent me a long email.”

  “I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that’s happy I’ll get to have you to myself for the next few days. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up this year. I feel like I’ve missed so much.”

  I shrugged. What could I say? She had missed a lot.

  “Maybe I’ll get the Facebook,” she said.

  “It’s just called Facebook, Mom. Not the Facebook.”

  “Whatever it’s called, if I can look at your updates, maybe I won’t feel so out of the loop.”

  Maybe you should have thought about the loop before you moved thirteen-hundred miles away, I thought. It would have been harsh to say out loud. I felt cruel just thinking it.

  I flew through the door at Jackman at exactly quarter past ten the next morning. Matt was sprawled on the couch watching SpongeBob SquarePants. He smiled broadly as I snapped the bolt closed, kicked my shoes off, and dropped my bag on the floor.

  “Whoa, Aubrey where’s the fire?”

  “Most people don’t run in to a burning apartment, cowboy.”

  “This is true. Unless you’re here to rescue me, of course.” He pushed himself up off the couch.

  “Don’t trouble yourself.” I motioned to the TV. “Looks like you’re getting caught up on some quality programming there.”

  He snorted and gave me a hug.

  “It’s about time I got up, anyway,” he said. “Starting to get a square ass from sitting too long.”

  “You could always ask your pal SpongeBob if you can borrow some of his pants,” I said as I extricated myself from his arms.

  He wagged a finger at me. “See? That’s what I miss.”

  “My fabulous wit?”

  “Exactly.” A wistful smile played on his lips. “Among other things…”

  “Sorry, dude. Wish I could entertain you all day, but I need to get ready.”

  Matt headed back to the couch to resume his date with his square-trousered friend. As I walked past Jo’s room on the way to my own, her door swung open and she beckoned me inside.

  “Hey, Jo, what’s up?”

  “Did Matt say anything about Sarah?” she whispered.

  “No. Why? What’s going on?”

  “She’s gone to a cottage with a girlfriend until Trinity’s convocation.”

  “What the hell? It’s his graduation day. I’d be pissed if Daniel wasn’t interested in seeing me graduate.”

  She tapped the side of her forehead. “That girl’s not all there, I’m telling you.”

  “Poor Matt.”

  “I’m counting the days until I head overseas. She’s getting on my nerves.”

  I patted her shoulder sympathetically before leaving to get ready in my own room. I leaned against my door with my eyes closed, and my sadness for Matt turned into apprehension as I contemplated my imminent meeting with Elaine Armstrong. I pictured myself shaking her bony claw as she congratulated me so sincerely for making the dean’s list. If she ruined my moment, I’d have to clock her.

  I rifled through my pockets for my phone, thinking I’d give Daniel a quick call. He’d calm me down. As usual, he’d anticipated my needs, sending me a soothing text message.

  I’m running a little late, but I’ll be there in time

  for the ceremony. Can’t wait to see you shine.

  Breathe, my lovely. -D xoxoxo…

  I took Daniel’s advice. I breathed. Then I ran around my room like a maniac.

  The lobby of Old Vic had been transformed for the ceremony. The leather club chairs and sofas were gone, replaced by rows of folding chairs facing a podium. A banquet table set up along the side wall held several trays of cookies as well as urns of tea and coffee and a pyramid of cups and saucers. My mother’s eyes lit up, and she quickly fixed herself a coffee.

  We surveyed the room, watching as honorees and their parents took their seats, everyone chattering excitedly and taking photographs while they waited for the ceremony to begin. But where was Daniel?

  “I’m so excited,” my mother said. “Make sure you stay up there long enough for me to get a couple of good pictures of you and the dean. I promised your dad I’d email him.”

  A couple of good pictures of me and my pal, Dean Armstrong. Ha! I decided against telling my mother the story that had led to me abandoning my job. No point ruining her perception of the day’s events.

  The unfortunate arrival of the dragon lady herself underscored my feelings of dread. She walked haughtily down one of the rows of chairs, intent on her destination—not surprisingly, the coffee table. I felt a shiver of dread at the sight of her. She was jabbering away to someone on the ever-present Bluetooth, so focused on her phone call and her need for caffeine that she didn’t even notice me.

  “Where are you?” she snapped, pausing to listen as she poured milk into her cup. “Good. Just hurry up.”

  She ended the call and turned around, stirring her coffee as she gazed furiously across the crowded room. When her eyes landed on me, she pulled herself up to her full height with an icy glare.

  “Good morning, Dean Armstrong,” I said, oozing sweetness. “Lovely day, don’t you think?”

  Her cup hit her saucer with a loud clink, and she clamped her teeth together, her eyes flitt
ing to my mother who had moved closer, perhaps expecting to be introduced. I didn’t have an opportunity to make introductions. Armstrong’s eyes moved over my right shoulder, and she abandoned her coffee on the table and disappeared without another word.

  I turned to see what had made her flee and saw David crossing the room, stopping to speak to students as he moved through the crowd. What was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be at Convocation Hall preparing for this afternoon’s graduation?

  “Who was that woman?” my mother said, but then David was before us, smiling graciously and reaching for my mother’s hand.

  I beat back the adrenaline my brief exchange with Elaine had stirred up. “Mom, this is David Grant, my former boss—and Daniel’s father.”

  “Linda,” my mom said, forgoing formality as she shook his hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” David said. “I’m so glad you were able to make the trip home to help your daughter celebrate her accomplishments. She’s had a banner year.”

  He smiled warmly, but before I had a chance to ask him what had brought him all the way over to Vic, he pointed at the first three rows of chairs, directing me to find my spot. My mother gave my hand a quick squeeze and moved to the rows reserved for parents. I took my seat, steeling myself for the ceremony.

  That’s when I spotted Daniel on the other side of the room, camera at the ready. He was flanked by several other people holding their cameras aloft. I waved at him and smiled. He winked and bobbed his head at the podium. His father was standing behind the lectern, putting on his glasses. After tapping the microphone lightly, he cleared his throat and scanned the crowd. What was he doing?

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for joining us today to celebrate these select hard-working students whose efforts have earned them the much-deserved honor of a place on the dean’s list,” David said.

  A polite smattering of applause interrupted him briefly.

  “My name is David Grant, and I am the Provost at the University of Toronto. However, up until six weeks ago, I was the Dean of Students here at Vic.” His eyes scanned the crowd until he found mine. “I felt compelled to return today to bestow this honor on the students I was lucky enough to have witnessed working so hard to achieve the distinction they’re being recognized for today…”