by Megan Rivers
“Oh my god!” Brooke suddenly exclaimed next to me, though her volume was low. “Christie Kelly,” she said in amazement. It was clear on her face that her brain had connected the dots. Her eyes travelled to me then widened, expecting me to respond.
I gave her a conspiratorial smile. “I'm going to go on my break, watch the register,” I said and walked away.
“You know working here will never be the same again.” I said as I sat on the chair across from Galvin.
He smirked. “I'm only here to enjoy a warm beverage on this pleasant autumn afternoon.” He leaned in for a quick peck. “Sorry about last night, I was exhausted.”
“Do you not remember the night of the Grammy's? I think we're even.” I leaned back into my chair.
Galvin looked down at his cup then met my eyes. “So, I'm afraid I won't be available for a few hours tomorrow. Samuel set up a radio interview in exchange for this vacation, which really is not a bad deal.”
“Oh, that's fine. I have to be at the gallery from ten to two, then back here until six.” I felt guilty for not taking more time off while he was here. To avoid his gaze, I played with the edge of his brown paper napkin that sat on the table in front of me.
Galvin's face brightened as if he realized that the universe was on his side. “That is perfect. We could have breakfast and dinner.” He smiled. “This can work,” he said, his mind lost in a thought. If I didn't know any better, I would say he was elated―like boulders had been lifted off his shoulders. “I have to drive to Boston and back, but this works.”
I returned his smile. He really was jubilant. “Look at us!” he exclaimed almost triumphant. “We're being a normal couple!”
The next day we only saw each other for breakfast and a late dinner due to our schedules. The following day was the first day of October, so I had to stay at Odilia's until my father called in order for Odilia to get her monthly allowance for hosting me.
“Can we go out for an hour? He can call back if you are not here,” Galvin said at around three in the afternoon. He was starting to get stir crazy being cooped up in the shadows with me. I remembered how I felt about it coming back from L.A. and was empathetic.
“You can head out for a while. I'll call you after I talk to him.” He was lounging on my bed with his guitar and I was sprawled out on the wooden floor in a sea of study guides and highlighted texts. It was comforting to not be in this world alone; to have him, his voice, and his guitar in the background while I was living my everyday life.
He sighed heavily and put the guitar aside. “No. I will stay. When does he usually call?”
I was trying to use my algebra skills and talk at the same time and it wasn't working. I put the paper, pencil, and calculator aside. “It varies. Sometimes ungodly early, sometimes so late it's the next day.” I saw the unpleasant look on Galvin's face. “I don't like it either, but it's the only way I can stay in this country.”
“Why did your mother marry that man?” The pain in my heart wasn't as piercing when my mother came to my mind anymore, but the salt-in-the-wound pain was replaced with raw emotional memories and thoughts of what never-will-be. He must have seen that on my face and replied, “Sorry, love. He just, he frustrates me.”
I nodded. I used to feel that way too, but there's no use worrying about the things I couldn't change. I had a plan for my future and I was going to make it... as long as I was here on the first of each month for his phone call.
Galvin sat down on the floor with me, pushing the library books aside. “I just want to let you know that the past three days have been... I have really enjoyed them.”
I felt my face get warmer. “It's been interesting,” I nodded. “Thank you for cramming your world into mine.”
He leaned his back against the bed. “I love it when our worlds collide. And I want you to know that I am not restless because I'm bored―I love sitting here doing nothing, especially with you―it is having to wait on someone who is controlling you 5,000 miles away.”
I shrugged. “That's life; you can't control everything, you just have to deal with what you get.”
He looked down. “I guess that's my problem. I know what life could be and I want it now. If it is not going my way, I do not want to be a part of it.”
Hm, this was a touchy subject to bring up. I tried to do it tactfully. “Has that been your problem lately?” I emphasized the word to refer to a bigger issue: his drug use.
I could see him putting up walls, just like he did for the media; it made me slump inside. “Probably,” was all he said, looking down, playing with the stack of flashcards next to him.
“Well,” I started. How I wished he did not put up that wall with me! “What do you want your life to be?”
He looked up, he was slowly breaking through that barrier like water escaping from the middle of an ice cube, dissolving the outer shell. The sound of Jeopardy's theme music made its way from the television in the living room through the closed bedroom door. “I―” he began but was cut off by the sudden shrill ringing of the telephone.
I looked from the cordless on my bedside table to him. He closed his mouth; the words that were about to exit he kept locked up. I gave him an apologetic look and reached for the phone and answered. Usually the conversation I had with my father went like this:
“Christie?” he asked, you know, just in case some other young girl was living at this number.
“This is she, who may I ask is speaking?” Yeah, I knew it was him, but it was a small way I felt like I could control some part of my world when he was in it.
He would sigh heavily and then ask to speak Odilia. She would confirm I was in fact Christie, that I was still living there and that she got last month's payment. Then he was gone.
I returned to my bedroom to find Galvin packing his guitar. “Freedom?” he asked, looking up.
“Freedom!” I said, gathering my material off the floor.
XVIII.
Ghosts on the Cobblestone
“The Hang Up” – Elizabeth and the Catapult
Tuesday October 2, 2001: my seventeenth birthday. How far we've come―I've come in one year. I had the whole day to spend with Galvin. I brushed away the cloud of low spirits that hovered over me when I woke up and realized I would no longer have Sometimes Waffles with my mother.
Galvin was there, though, with hotel room service waffles to chase away the clouds. “Big day―big, wonderful day ahead of us today!” he said practically hopping on the bed. He wore fresh jeans and white t-shirt with a cream sweater that made him look so European. “Hurry up and eat so we can get started with the celebrations!”
I watched him walk around restlessly. “What are we doing?” I asked with a forkful of syrup-drenched waffle in my mouth.
A smile grew across his lips like the Cheshire Cat. “In time, love, in time.”
After a few moments of smirking at his dancing eyebrows I replied, “Color me intrigued!” and pushed the breakfast platter off my lap. “Give me fifteen minutes!”
I walked out of the bathroom showered and dressed in jeans with a black and white polka dot top, which wasn't very warm, but it was my birthday and it made me feel special. Galvin was sitting on the foot of the bed watching CNN but turned the television off when I walked in. He wiggled his eyebrows in approval.
“Before we leave,” he announced, extending his arm with a small box in it, “here is your first present.”
Smiling, I reached for it. I lifted the top and saw two charms: a heart and one with the initials CK. “They're for your bracelet,” he said, taking them out of the box and instructing me to sit on the bed. “These are your mom's initials because even though it was unexpected, it brought us closer. And this way you can always have something on you to remember her.” I tried not to cry but my vision was getting blurry. “And the heart was for LA.... the incredibly good time in LA.” He winked.
There were no words; I kissed him. It might have led to something else if he wasn't on a schedule. He pull
ed away and said, “Let's go. More surprises in store.”
Galvin rented a private jet.
Yes, you read that right. He rented a jet for my birthday. For little old me. An hour and half later we landed... in New York! “Where are we going?” I asked, excited.
“Stop number one!” he said holding the door open for me to the car he rented.
No matter how many times I asked, he wouldn't tell me what “stop number one” was, he only smiled slyly.
We were driving down a rural road and up ahead silver letters amongst the hedges surrounding it spelled Sarah Lawrence College. “Oh my gosh!” I gasped letting it sink in.
I turned to Galvin and he smiled. “Stop number one! You're getting a tour of the college.” I might have squealed in excitement. My big plan was becoming a reality!
We toured the campus with a group of visitors- only three other people. Galvin kept his hat and sunglasses on, but there were a few sideways glances and whispering. We ignored it and nothing came of it. We visited the library, the art department, the dorms and some classrooms. At the end, Galvin bought me a SLC sweater from the campus store as a birthday present.
We also ate lunch on campus. “I thought you might want to try it out, sit with some students and see if this is really what you want,” he said.
“You thought of everything!” I said, sitting at a table against the wall, in the corner. “I'm so excited I can't eat!”
“So this is your future?” he asked, picking up his burger.
During the entire tour I was trying to place how I felt about the school. Passionate: that's the word. There was a passion burning with fervor inside me about this school―about my potential future here. “Yes!” I responded. “I'm here in a real college! I mean U of C was a real college, but it was where Mom worked. This is my college. I didn't know I wanted it this bad until I saw it in person. I want it so bad I can feel it deep in my bones. This place is for me.”
Galvin smiled, but it hid something too. He put his uneaten food aside. “Well, if you're done, ready for stop number two?”
“There's more?” I asked excitedly, my eyes lighting up.
“Much more!” He winked and then led me to the car.
I won't bore you with the details but stop number two was to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Galvin arranged a private tour for us and I was enthralled. He patiently waited as I listened, asked questions, and marveled a bit too long at the pieces we saw. When we returned to Camden that night I couldn't have been happier or more stimulated.
I felt completely content walking hand-in-hand through leaves that crunched beneath our feet. There was a silence as we walked along the windy lake front. “Thank you for today. I had so much fun. I can't believe you came out and planned all of this on your vacation.”
He squeezed my hand and looked at the horizon. “Christie, I would do anything for you.”
We spent most of our walk in a comfortable silence together, the whole time I thought about where I would be a year from now and only two things were sure: I’d be an eighteen year old college student (hopefully at Sarah Lawrence) and completely happy with Galvin because I'd be free from my father's control. Everything was going to turn around and it was all going to be okay, I just had to wait as patiently as I could.
We turned to walk down the cobblestone, our fingers danced between each other. Galvin, who I hadn’t seen in over seven months, decided to spend his well-deserved vacation―which he could’ve spent at home―to be with me for my seventeenth birthday. Granted, at first I was ticked off because it felt like he only suggested the trip after he found out that I knew he started doing drugs. Nevertheless, Galvin was the glue that held the fragmented pieces of my life together, and seeing him again, after such a long time apart, melted the anger I had built up towards him and his situation (or, at the very least, buried it).... especially after this wonderful birthday he put together.
Compared to everything I had been through the past year, my seventeenth birthday was off-the-scale wonderful. I let go of Galvin’s hand and put my arm around his waist. He was leaving the day after tomorrow and I wanted to be as close to him as I could. I wanted to smell him, touch him, and engrain every detail of him into my memory.
He was softly humming My Way absentmindedly, because it was too quiet for him. The dismal, autumn colored brown hair upon his head stood on end from a breeze that interrupted the night around us. He looked down at me and smiled with his intensely green eyes that surged with life―I never got tired of looking into them.
I leaned my head against his leather jacket. Galvin didn’t say anything, but looked at the ground and his eyes followed the path we were pursuing. “I can't wait to get out of here and go to school in New York,” I said, my mind wandering.
We were still on the stone walk outside of the cottage, but now we were barricaded from the dimly lit building by hedges that had lost most of their leaves due to the chilly October air. He had been uncharacteristically quiet on the walk back to the hotel and had ceased his daydreaming tune with the mention of Sarah Lawrence. “What's wrong?” I asked trying to catch his gaze.
We walked a few yards before he stopped and turned to me. He grabbed my other hand and looked at them, entangled with his, never glancing at my face. After several indecisive moments, and sentences he almost started, he finally said, “Let’s get married, Christie.”
His capricious nature never ceased to amaze me, but the sentence he just blurted out momentarily froze every atom in my body. The silence that followed his words filled with the sound of dead leaves dragging across the stone walk by the wind.
“What?” I asked, half laughing.
“Yesterday you asked me what I wanted my life to be. I want it to be with you, always.”
I didn't say anything but the high I had been on all day was coming down. My light-hearted birthday had suddenly taken a turn to grave-serious.
Galvin continued, “I know you want to go to Sarah Lawrence, but I will be there with you. Or we could go back to Germany and I can take care of you. I know you work all the time―” Galvin’s face turned sternly serious. He took a deep breath. “I miss you and I need you to be with me. I can’t stand not having you around every day or even being a phone call away.”
A grin spread across my face, knowing how much I meant to him. God only knows how much I missed him too. More times than I cared to share. I toyed with the idea of running away to him, but I always stuck it out in Maine because I either lacked the courage and security that everything would turn out all right in the end, or I was confident that my plan would work out and my life wouldn't be one big mess. It depended on the day.
Galvin looked down at the cobblestone walk and subserviently said, “Not having you around makes me feel empty, horribly and terribly empty, and…” He struggled with continuing his sentence. “And I spent the past few months without you trying to fill that horrible feeling of emptiness and being alone with… you know.” His eyes met mine, hoping he didn't have to say it.
I stopped and slowly lifted my head up to him. “With drugs?”
He nodded.
It was almost as if he slapped me across the face or threw me to the ground with that sentence. Those words hurt me more than an abusive hand ever could. How could a few, small words destroy a feeling, a moment, so wonderful?
“What?” My voice was soft while my mind was busy putting puzzle pieces together.
“I love making music with all my heart, but not all the other stuff. You make life worth living. You make me happy, my life a happier place to be. When I don't have you, I need a distraction.” He emphasized the last word to make sure I knew he was referring to something else. “I'm so scared to leave you Friday and return to that world because without you I know things will go back to the way they were.”
“What?” I said the word again, only this time it was as strong and as sharp as a nail driving into wood. I took a deep breath that seemed to last for an eternity. “You’re using me as an excu
se for doing drugs?” I spoke the words slowly and annunciated them.
His eyes widened at my reaction. “No! I just, there was no reason to―“ he stuttered knowing this conversation was going south fast.
I put up my hand to stop him. Let's get a few things straight. “You’ve not only started doing drugs, but moved from rohypnol to meth all because I wasn’t there? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Again, the words came out slow, annunciated, and sharp.
His face was drenched with regret for ever murmuring his previous statement. “No, I didn’t mean―“
“What exactly did you mean, Galvin?” I was livid with selfish disappointment. I took two steps backwards to make room for my anger that was slicing us in half.
“Nothing, I just want to be with you so that I am safe―so that we are safe. That we're together. We're always better together.”
“Oh!” My voice shifted to a high, artificial tone. “So you meant to guilt me into marrying you?”
“No!” He threw his hands up in frustration.
“Really? 'Cause that's what it sounds like,” my words dripped with attitude and delivered like sharp little daggers. My lips were pierced together and my arms were tightly crossed over my chest. Galvin pinched the skin between his eyes and sighed.
His reaction added to my perturbation. “Are you upset now? Are you upset that I didn’t fall into your arms because you need me to keep you off drugs? Jesus, Galvin, that has to be the worst proposal in the history of mankind!” I tried to control my anger now, by speaking through clenched teeth, but gave up in mid sentence. “You don’t ask me to marry you for the sake of your well-being,” I poked him hard in the chest. “You ask me to marry you because you love me.”