Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  Damien had been the start of my lack of belief in the possibility of having a real relationship with a man. Today, I wanted to end that belief.

  Whatever had changed, I was no longer the person who'd had flings with him over the years, no longer the one who could pick up a guy at a bar and feel nothing but sexual satisfaction. I didn't know who I was, but I wasn't that person any more, and getting rid of everything Damien-related seemed like a great way to mark that transition.

  Once I'd seen everything in the box, I dug around until I found the picture of Damien and me at a party the day before we had sex for the first time, intending to keep it for posterity. I studied it extra-hard, seeing the kid he'd been then and the adult he eventually became and his undeniable similarity to Felix. No wonder my boss had stirred me.

  Then I studied myself, the girl who'd been so ready to give her virginity up to Damien as he gave his up to her. A lot of guys under the bridge between then and now, and I looked at her and realized I didn't regret anything of what I'd done in the transition from being her to being me.

  "Well, honey," I said out loud to the picture, "It's time for a new direction. I'm not sure what direction it is, but I'll find it. And it'll be good. It'll be good to myself."

  I tucked the picture into my high school yearbook so I wouldn't lose it then took the box to the living room. After sitting for a few minutes, feeling the weight of my memories in the box in my lap, I placed the box into the empty stone fireplace and set it ablaze.

  It burned quickly, almost violently, the crackling of the old paper and photographs somehow freeing, and I didn't wish I hadn't done it even for a moment.

  Once the box was reduced to ashes, I went upstairs and retrieved the photograph then burned it as well. I didn't want to look back like that any more. My parents had moved on and were finding a new life, and I wanted to do the same thing. A new life, a new attitude.

  An attitude that was all about being good to myself.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  I felt clean and pure after burning the remnants of my time with Damien, and I wanted to keep that feeling going but I didn't know how.

  Percy came to mind, and I considered seeing if he wanted to go for a walk with me and Paddington, but though I loved his company I felt more like I wanted to be alone.

  I worked it through in my mind, taking the time to really decide what I wanted. I didn't want to be at home any more but I also didn't want to be surrounded by people and forced to talk to them. Paddington, curled up next to me on the couch, was so cute that I wanted to spend time with him but I didn't feel like playing fetch or going for a long walk. I wanted to somehow mark the day as one where I was leaving Damien behind and trying to accept that there could be a relationship out there for me, mark it with peace and quiet and maybe a little nature.

  Many of my readers' lists of things to do to be good to themselves had included being outside in nature, simultaneously feeling refreshed by it and awed by how complex it was and how small they were in relation to the whole of the planet. I liked the idea, but I didn't know where to go.

  Ironically, the place I eventually decided to visit was one I'd been to with Damien back when we were seventeen or so. His aunt and uncle had taken us and their two kids and Damien's brother to Lake Ontario to swim, and Damien had wanted to sneak off to mess around a bit but I hadn't been willing since we might get caught. We'd ended up arguing, quietly so his aunt and uncle wouldn't know, and he'd spent our time there bitterly throwing rocks into the water while I sat alone and studied the waves.

  I remembered it being pretty and peaceful even though we'd been fighting, and I'd loved watching the water, but Damien's relatives had moved away a few months later so he and I had never gone back. I'd never gone on my own either, since it was a bit of a drive and I'd never found the right time to go. Well, the right time was right now.

  It was cold out, and it would be colder there, so I wrapped myself up well and packed everything I thought I might need plus some things for Paddington then loaded us into the car for the drive east toward the town of Pickering where Damien's aunt and uncle had lived.

  After about forty minutes of driving and a brief stop at a Tim Horton's for a large hot apple cinnamon tea, I found the little road I remembered and drove slowly down to the shore of Lake Ontario.

  The beach was rocky, dusted with snow and ice, and completely deserted, and I walked with Paddington along the edge of the water. Snowflakes drifted around us, soft and light, making the afternoon sky seem magical, and I felt like we were the only two living creatures on the planet. It was calming and gorgeous and I loved it.

  When I'd had enough walking, I began looking for the perfect spot to sit. I found it eventually, two big rocks arranged almost like a chair which I padded with most of the blankets I'd brought.

  I'd brought a book with me, one Percy had lent me, but for the first while I simply sat with another blanket wrapped around me sipping my tea and watching my dog leaping through the no-doubt-icy water clearly having the time of his life.

  It hit me, as I watched, that every last thing Paddington did was whatever he wanted to do. In some ways, that was the definition of being 'good to yourself', wasn't it?

  Of course, I might want to eat an entire cheesecake but that wouldn't be good to me, so...

  I watched and thought, letting my mind move slowly and calmly around the edges of the complicated problem, and eventually decided that if you listened well enough to know what you truly wanted, not just what would feel good for a minute or two, then you could go by what you wanted and be good to yourself. The surface desires might not be good, but with enough attention you'd find the things that would really make your life better.

  Watching my dog, I thought about those things. I wanted to feel clean and comfortable in my body. I felt more that way drinking a hot cup of plain tea than I did stuffing myself with cheesecake or whipped-cream-topped drinks. If I remembered that, I would choose the tea more often and the other things less often, and that would be good. It was good, since I was already doing it. Not every time, but sometimes, and that was a good start.

  The project was 'good to yourself', not 'perfect to yourself'. Trying to make myself perfect, even at self-care, was a goal doomed to failure. But doing one nice thing for myself a day? That I could handle. I had all those lists my readers had created and I'd pick one thing to do each day to keep myself happy and be good to myself.

  I leaned back in my surprisingly comfortable rock chair and dug in my bag for my book and another blanket. I made a bed for Paddington on the pebbles beside me, so when he grew weary of playing in the water he could have a nap, then opened my book.

  I didn't start reading, though; instead I thought a little more about what I'd realized. I wasn't perfect and I wasn't ever going to be perfect, so my web site shouldn't be telling my readers they could and should be perfect. I needed to fix that, so they didn't feel judged by me. I wanted them to feel the same peace I felt now, and they couldn't if they thought I thought they weren't good enough.

  That decided, I pushed work from my mind. This was my time, alone amid the gently falling snow, and I wanted to enjoy it.

  The book Percy had given me turned out to be amazing, smart and funny and occasionally touching too, and I read for hours. Paddington came up to me after a little while, fortunately having first shaken the worst of the icy water from his fur at the shore so I didn't get soaked when he shook himself again, and I set my book down so I could scratch behind his soggy ears and tell him how lovely he was and how glad I was to have him with me here and forever. He stood listening and wagging his tail until I dropped a dog biscuit and chew toy onto the blanket beside me, at which point he curled up there and ate the biscuit then chewed for a while until he fell asleep.

  Other than Paddington, though, there were no interruptions, and I stayed on that beautiful rocky beach enjoying the feeling of truly being good to myself with no pressure and no interruptions until the cool winter sunlight
began to fade and I sat alone and watched the most gorgeous sunset I'd ever seen.

  *****

  Back home, I fed Paddington then took him for a stroll around the neighborhood and a trip to Jack's since I had no food at home and didn't want to order pizza. I didn't get cheesecake, though, despite Jack and Jerry teasing me; instead I brought home a big salad topped with grilled chicken and settled onto the couch with it and my laptop.

  Automatically I began to access my work email, but when I realized what I was doing I clicked the window closed before the messages could load. Checking that email on the weekend hadn't been good to me most of the time, so why was I doing it? Because it was a habit. Well, that wasn't a good enough reason any more.

  I sent Percy a text message asking if he'd sent me anything I needed to know, then began skimming through my personal email. The usual Facebook alerts, a message from Wash informing me I was ugly and my mother dressed me funny, then one that made my heart jump.

  Dear Lydia,

  You totally shouldn't be blaming yourself. I don't want to tell you why I'm here, but it's nothing to do with you. I'm just not ready to talk. And I wasn't before I left either. But yeah, I think I'm being good to myself by being here. I hope so anyhow. I still feel like a foreigner, but that's because I am, right? Everyone calls me 'madam' and 'miss', and it's weird but I'm getting used to it.

  It's true that I had a lot of stuff on my mind. I know, though, that if I'd asked you to listen you would have. I just didn't feel like asking, I guess, and now that we're so far apart it feels weird to spell it all out to you. But I'll be okay.

  Write back when you can and I promise to answer.

  Have a great day!

  Madam Larissa

  I read the email three times then leaned back on the couch and sighed. A good friend wouldn't have needed to be asked to listen. I should have recognized that Larissa needed my time and attention, but I hadn't.

  That made me think of Sasha, and how she'd been struggling with how she felt about her life. I had listened to her, but had I done enough?

  I clicked over to her web site to see what she was up to and was surprised but thrilled to see she'd taken the plunge and changed every last one of her categories. Before they'd all been about other people, but now she had 'time alone' and 'your romantic relationship' and 'your career' and other things that kept her readers front and center in their own lives.

  Reading through some of her recent entries, I saw she'd changed more than just the titles. She was relaxing at night reading in the bathtub, which she'd told me once she adored doing but never had the time. Daniel was taking care of the kids while she did that, since she wasn't waiting until they'd gone to sleep, and I smiled at her astonishment over how much he and the kids enjoyed their time together. She'd even sent her Damian to school with store-bought cookies on his birthday instead of homemade ones because she hadn't felt like baking.

  Not all of her readers approved of what she was doing, I noticed. Some of the comments accused her of being selfish and uncaring, and one even dared to call her a bad mother for not spending every last second of her precious after-work time with her kids. She responded calmly, though, saying that she was indeed a mother and a wife and loved being both of those things but she was a woman too and didn't think there was anything wrong with taking care of her own needs and wants as well.

  The 'bad mother' commenter stormed off in a digital huff after that post, taking a few like-minded people with her, but other commenters supported Sasha and some were even telling her how they were now taking better care of themselves because of her example. She'd lost a few followers, but she'd clearly strengthened her bond with the others, and far more importantly she was living her life her way.

  I sent her an email from my personal account, telling her I'd read and been impressed by her change of direction and suggesting we go for lunch on Wednesday if she had time. I wanted to know more about how she was making this transition. It might help me keep working on my own.

  Then I went back to Larissa's email and told her I was glad to hear she was doing all right and would love to hear more when she had the time and inclination. I considered telling her about my one-night stand, but it didn't seem necessary. I'd talked it out with Percy and now I felt fine about it. It was in my past, just like Damien, and I only wanted to be in my present and look forward to my future.

  I'd barely set my computer aside to focus all my attention on the delicious salad I'd only eaten a few bites of when my phone signaled a text.

  I've sent no emails, Flipper. Going to watch the game? Want company?

  I stared at this, letting it percolate through me. Did I? Did the idea of having him come over to watch hockey with me feel good? Would it be good to myself to be with him?

  I didn't need to percolate for long.

  Yes and yes. Paddington says he'll even give you his end of the couch.

  I can't turn down such a good offer. There in ten.

  I spent the next six minutes giving the place a quick tidying then began flipping through the lists of 'good to yourself' things my readers had posted. When Percy knocked at my door, I'd just decided that I would spend part of tomorrow afternoon playing around in my closet to find new and interesting outfits from the things hiding in the back corners. The reader called it 'shopping for free' and I figured I'd enjoy it.

  Percy came in with a small bag from Jack's in his hand. "Hey, Flipper." He grinned at me. "Room for this in the fridge?"

  "What is it?" I took it from him.

  "Cheesecake," he said, taking off his coat and boots. "Orange-raspberry."

  If not my favorite of Jack's flavors, definitely in the top three. "Nice. Is it your dinner?"

  He laughed. "No, it's your dessert. And maybe mine if you'll share a bit."

  I put the bag in the fridge without answering, then came back, and to my surprise instead of answering I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  He cuddled me close at once. "What's this for?"

  I shrugged. "Because you brought cheesecake?"

  It wasn't, but I didn't know what it was for besides that just the sight of him had made me feel as warm and cozy as I'd felt in that blanket I'd been wrapped in on the beach.

  "Does this mean you won't share?"

  I shrugged again. "For every goal the Hogs score, I'll give you a bit."

  He laughed, tightened his arms around me, then released me. He glanced toward the living room and said, "Oh, geez, is that your dinner there? I figured you'd have eaten already."

  I looked over at the salad. "It is, but no worries. Let's go watch. Game's about to start."

  We did watch, sitting on the couch together while I ate all the chicken and the best-tasting vegetables from my salad while leaving the more boring lettuce bits. On the first commercial break he told me that the private investigator still hadn't found his dad and I told him I was sorry and hoped it would work eventually, and I used the second to fill him in on how I'd spent my day and how I'd be using my readers' lists to be good to myself in the future.

  "I like it," he said. "One good thing a day to report on your site."

  I blinked. I hadn't even thought of my site. "I guess so," I said.

  He smiled at me. "Well, then it's good to yourself and good to your work. Sounds like a plan."

  "It does," I said, then we stopped talking to cheer as the Hogs scored the first goal of the game.

  "No Forrest Williams tonight," Percy told me. "Sorry to disappoint you."

  "He's not hurt, is he?"

  Percy shook his head. "His wife's having their first baby. Guess he wanted to be there."

  "Yeah," I said softly. "I guess he would." I could almost see it, the hospital room and the nurses and Williams holding his wife's hand encouraging her, and I wanted it with a ferocity that hurt.

  I'd been trying to tell myself I didn't care if I had kids, but part of being good to myself was facing painful truths, and this one was almost unbearable: I'd been lying to myself. I mig
ht never have children, and I wasn't completely sure I wanted to, but at least part of me desperately wanted them. I did care. A lot.

  Percy and I sat silent for a long moment, then he cleared his throat. "Well, I guess it's cheesecake time? I get a little bit for that goal, and you get the rest because I really got it for you anyhow."

  I looked over at him and knew he had at least some idea of how I felt. Not difficult, obviously, to realize that a thirty-nine-year-old single woman might be having some kid-related issues. Still, the sweetness in his eyes touched me.

  I moved a little closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder, and he slid his arm around me at once. We stayed together without speaking for a few moments, then I said, "So, about this cheesecake," because I knew I shouldn't be snuggling with my friend any more and I didn't know how to stop it otherwise.

  He let me go and said, "Want me to get it?"

  I nodded. "Plates are above the sink, forks in the first drawer."

  He headed off, returning shortly with two plates, one topped with the tiniest sliver of cheesecake and the other bearing the majority of the slice.

  "For you," he said, handing me the huge piece. "Bon appetit."

  I took one bite from the corner and let it melt in my mouth. Perfect. I hadn't eaten cheesecake for a while and the time without it made it seem so much better.

  I sighed.

  "Good?"

  "You know it."

  The second bite was good too, but when I'd swallowed it I gave him back the plate.

  He blinked. "Something wrong?"