by Marie Landry
“You’re back,” Dad said, muting the television and giving me a small smile. “Everything okay at home?”
I nodded, too tired to speak.
“Good.” He looked at me for a long time, like he knew something was wrong and he knew he should ask, but he turned back to the TV and flipped the sound back on.
I sighed heavily. Would life always be this way? Heated fights between Ella and me followed by short, awkward conversations with Dad?
I sank back in the chair and tried to push everything from my mind. Dad was watching a rerun of Friends, so I zoned out on the familiarity of the characters, the dialogue, and the jokes.
Three episodes later, I could barely hold my eyes open. I kissed Dad’s cheek, said good night and headed up to my room. By the time I washed my face and changed into my nightgown, I knew I would have trouble getting to sleep. Even though I’d been up for over seventeen hours, and even though I’d miraculously slept through the night last night, my body was still in insomniac mode.
I crawled into bed anyway, arranging my pillows and trying to get comfortable. My eyelids were heavy, but no matter how long I kept my eyes closed, sleep wouldn’t come. Finally I got up and wandered around my dark room, listening to the gentle waves outside. I grabbed Ezra’s sweater from where I’d left it on the back of my desk chair and brought it to my face, inhaling his scent and feeling my muscles relax.
I got back into bed and pillowed my head on Ezra’s sweater, pretending he was with me. I don’t remember anything after that.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It wasn’t easy to forget about my fight with Ella. We avoided each other as much as possible over the next few days, and whenever we ran into each other we pretended the other didn’t exist.
I hated that it had come to this, but there was no reasoning with her. I just had to put up with her for another few months and then I’d be off to college and we could be those sisters who rarely speak, and only see each other at family functions…except our only family was Dad, and if things didn’t improve I couldn’t see him hosting Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners.
Ezra finished building the front porch the weekend after our trip to Toronto, then moved on to another job across the island. I missed seeing him every morning, eating lunch with him, and knowing he would likely be around when I got home from volunteering.
We still saw each other every night when we did our designated driving around the island. A few nights before sunset, he pulled me away to give me driving lessons, and I got a little more comfortable behind the wheel each time.
“I guess this is a good place to learn since there’s no traffic, but I’ll probably be a nervous wreck driving anywhere else,” I told him one evening as we cruised down our street. “You know, like when I actually have to drive with other cars on the road and learn to stop at stop lights.”
He had laughed and promised that when I got my permit he’d take me to Kingston and teach me to drive with other cars around.
I was beginning to love my volunteer job at the library. My blog posts were getting more hits than I ever could have imagined, and teens around the island often sought me out to ask for recommendations.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you when you leave in the fall,” Shelley told me one day while I shelved books. “If you were sticking around, I’d try to convince you to start a teen reading club. We could really use something like that on the island.”
“I would have loved that,” I said wistfully. “My school started one last year, but I couldn’t join. It would have been nice to have one here.”
“Maybe next summer if you guys come back,” Shelley suggested. “And in the meantime, you can keep the blog up since you can do that from anywhere.”
Next summer. When I thought about it I couldn’t get a clear picture in my mind. A month ago I’d barely been able to imagine getting through this summer, let alone what came after. Where would I be a year from now? Would I be on summer vacation from college? Would we return to the island? Would I be working? Would Ezra and I still be together?
I shook my head. It was too much to think about. I’d heard somewhere that you shouldn’t make any big decisions during the first year of grief because your mind doesn’t function normally and you might regret decisions made in haste. I didn’t really have the luxury of waiting a year though—if I wanted to go to college this winter, I’d have to start thinking about applications soon.
I glanced over at the clock above Shelley’s desk and discovered it was almost noon. The library was closing early for some meetings, so I had the afternoon to myself. I grabbed my things, said goodbye to Shelley, and stepped out into the warm sunlight. When I reached the street, I spotted Lilah coming out of the general store, and waved.
“Oh, Charlotte, I’m so glad I ran into you,” she said, hurrying over to me. “I haven’t forgotten about you, I swear, I’ve just been busy fixing up rental properties.” She stopped in front of me and took a second to catch her breath. “I was just going home to make lunch. Can you join me?”
I didn’t even have to think about it—Ezra was working, and nobody would be waiting for me at home. “Sure.”
She insisted on putting my bike in the trunk so she could drive me straight home afterward, and then we headed for her house. She lived in what I’d started to think of as the ‘rich area’ of the island—the big, beautiful homes Dad and I had seen on our first drive around the island, and the ones Ezra and I came to almost every night to pick up Adam.
Lilah ushered me inside, and I tried not to gawk at the high ceilings, endless windows, sparkling marble floors, and expensive-looking furniture. She took me straight back to the kitchen and opened the French doors onto the expansive deck that branched out to a pool on one side and led down to the beach on the other.
“Let in some light and sunshine,” she said with a smile as she crossed the kitchen to the fridge. “We can eat out there if you like.”
“Sounds good.” I was grateful for the suggestion; I wouldn’t have to worry about dropping food on the gleaming hardwood or one of the area rugs. My family was fairly well off, but our home was cozy as opposed to opulent, and I’d never been quite comfortable around the type of wealth Lilah seemed to possess.
Not that she acted like one of those rich people who made others uncomfortable. She seemed very down-to-earth, and didn’t flaunt her affluence. Her clothes were stylish and appeared tailor-made, but she wasn’t dripping with diamonds or anything like that. Her shoes were flat and sensible, and her hair professionally streaked and coiffed, but in the times I’d met her I never would have guessed she was one of the rich people that lived in this area.
“You’re just like your mother,” Lilah said, breaking into my thoughts. “Her mind was always going, too. You could almost see the wheels turning.” She smiled warmly as she set down several packages of deli meat. “Is it weird being here? I know you don’t know me very well. Maybe I should have taken you out on neutral ground first.”
“No, no, it’s fine, I’m happy to be here,” I assured her. “My mom talked about you and Ezra’s mom a lot. She referred to her summers here as ‘the good old days’, the way most people refer to high school or college.”
Lilah’s smile turned wistful. “We did have some good times, that’s for sure. Izzy and I were heartbroken when Annie and her family stopped coming for the summer.” Her eyes were far away as she washed a large tomato and began slicing it. “We saw each other a few times after that—she came down here, or Izzy and I would drive up there for a weekend, but it was never the same as our summers together. We didn’t mean to drift apart, it just sort of happened. We all got busy with our lives, met our husbands, Annie and Izzy had kids…”
I nodded. “But you guys never forgot about each other.” I thought of Alexis and Bianca, and wondered if they’d remember me in ten or twenty years. Would they look back on our years together as ‘the good old days’ the way Mom had always thought of her summers on the isla
nd?
Sometimes thinking about them left a bitter taste in my mouth, while other times, I was able to smile when I remembered all the things we’d shared. I didn’t exactly miss them; I guess I missed what we used to have. I missed what they had once meant to me—shared giggles and secrets, sleepovers and late nights on the phone, that sense of belonging, fitting. It was still hard to believe that in the end, a lifetime of friendship meant so little to them.
“Never,” Lilah said, drawing me once again from my thoughts. “We kept in touch over the years, we just didn’t get to see each other. I think I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”
She looked so sad it broke my heart. “She wouldn’t want that,” I told her. “For you to have regrets.”
Lilah shook her head as if she wasn’t quite sure. “Anyway…” She forced a bright smile onto her face, and after a few seconds it reached her eyes, and she relaxed. “I hope subs are okay.” I nodded and she pulled plates, cutlery, and placemats out and handed them to me. “Do you mind setting the table out there? I’ll bring everything out in a minute.”
I stepped out onto the deck and saw that the table was a beautiful frosted glass patio table with wrought iron chairs. I laid everything out, then sat in one of the chairs facing the water, sinking back into the thick cushion.
We need something like this on our porch, I thought, then sighed when I realized it wasn’t ‘our’ porch, and we’d only be here another month. It was surprising how quickly the island had come to feel like home.
Lilah came out balancing a tray laden with buns, meat, cheese, tomato slices, raw veggies, and dip. I jumped up to help her, and she thanked me, then popped back inside to get a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses.
When we finished lunch, Lilah brought out the photo albums she’d mentioned to me. We sat side-by-side at the table and flipped through the pages. There were shots of the three of them on the beach in bikinis lounging in the sun or splashing in the water; others of them riding bikes and playing on the swings at the park; and a handful of pictures of them at a concert dressed in tight neon clothes with big, teased hair.
My mom was in almost every shot, looking confidently into the lens, smiling brightly, her eyes so young and innocent. My face hurt from smiling, even though my eyes sometimes swam with tears, and I’d have to blink them away so the pictures would come back into focus.
I hardly had any pictures from the last year. I didn’t have any of my friends, but I had a few of Mom and me that she’d insisted I take when she was dressed and didn’t look pale and drawn. She had told me she wanted me to have them when she was gone so I would remember we did have a few good times while she was sick.
That memory morphed into another one, of a picture I’d almost forgotten we had taken. It was a family shot of the four of us just after Mom was diagnosed with the brain tumour, but before she got really sick. We’d been at the house of one of Dad’s colleague’s for his yearly beginning-of-school barbeque, and Mom had convinced us to get together for a family shot. Ella and I had still been on speaking terms then, and we were crushed in between Mom and Dad, the four of us smiling happily into the camera. I had no idea where the picture was, but I’d give anything to have it now. The four of us as a family before we’d fallen apart.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Lilah said gently, resting her hand on my shoulder and making me jump. I realized then that tears were streaming down my face, and I wiped them away hastily.
“You didn’t,” I said. “They’re a mixture of happy and sad tears. It’s nice to see Mom young and happy and having fun. I don’t suppose…” I ran my fingers over the plastic that covered the pictures, touching my mom’s beautiful face.
“I’ll have copies made for you,” Lilah offered. “I’m sure I have more pictures somewhere, I just need to find them. I’ll get them all copied and put them into a book for you.”
“I’d really appreciate it,” I whispered, my voice faltering.
“Of course.” She patted my shoulder and excused herself, saying she needed to use the bathroom, but I think she really just wanted to give me a minute to myself to get it together. I was grateful for that, too.
When she came back, we moved onto lighter subjects, talking about the island, the general store and how much Hank enjoyed running it, and the rental properties they owned.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with the house you’re in right now,” she told me. “I know it’s a little run down, but it’s right on the beach and close to most of the island’s amenities. When renters became fewer and farther between, I decided to hold off on putting money into renos in case I decided to sell it. Then your mom called and said she wanted to rent it, and I was going to have it fixed up but she insisted on paying for it herself.”
“That’s what Dad told us,” I said. “I would have thought it’d be booked most of the year. I love it there.”
She smiled. “I’m glad. So did your mom.” She leaned back in her chair and gazed out at the water. “What are your plans for when you go back home?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” I replied. “I’ll probably have to get a job somewhere until I can start school in January. But I have to decide what I’m going to school for first.”
She chuckled. “Might help. What are your options?”
“I always thought I would become a teacher, like Dad, but now I’m not so sure. I’m thinking about maybe something to do with writing or publishing, but…I just don’t know.”
“What about nursing?” she asked. “Or maybe personal support work? You took care of your mom while she was sick. You seem like a compassionate, empathetic person. The field could use more people like you.”
The thought had occurred to me. I didn’t think I’d want to work in a nursing home, but maybe I could get one-on-one jobs with people who were sick or disabled.
“St. Lawrence College in Kingston has a great PSW program,” she said in a wink-wink nudge-nudge way, like she knew I was getting attached to this area…and maybe she knew about my feelings for Ezra, even though I hadn’t mentioned them. “I keep trying to convince Ezra to get into that. He’d be so good at it, and he’s got the real life experience from taking care of his mom all these years.”
My head snapped in her direction, and the look on her face made my stomach plummet. It was a mixture of guilt and horror, and she cringed like she wished she could take the words back.
“What do you mean?” I asked slowly, my voice surprisingly steady.
“Oh god, Charlotte, I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to…Ezra asked me to…oh, he’s going to kill me,” she stammered, her cheeks turning bright red. “I told him he should tell you so I wouldn’t have to be in this position.”
“What position? You told him to tell me what?” Taking care of his mom all these years? All these years? Surely I was missing something.
Lilah took a deep, shaky breath. “I really don’t think I should be the one to tell you. Ezra swore he’d tell you when he was ready, and I never would have broken my promise to him, but it slipped out.”
My patience was beginning to wear thin. “Tell me what, Lilah?”
She gnawed on her bottom lip. “Please don’t be angry at him, Charlotte. I love him like a son. Hank and I couldn’t have kids, and when Ezra came along he was the light of my life. I’ve tried to take care of him, and he’s been so good to me…” She was babbling, and I tried my best not to scream at her to just get to the point.
Her tear-filled eyes met mine. “Izzy is…sick. Mentally. She lives in the house with Ezra and he takes care of her. She made him promise not to put her in the hospital, even though we all know that’s where she belongs.”
I stared blankly at Lilah. A sick, sour feeling had begun in the pit of my stomach and was slowly working its way up until my throat burned with it.
“Nobody knows.” Lilah’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “She hasn’t left the house in years. Everyone thinks she moved away, and that’s what we let them be
lieve. Ezra made me swear I’d never tell anyone. He wanted to tell you from the beginning, he just…didn’t know how.”
I couldn’t seem to process what she’d just told me. I was vaguely aware of her wringing her hands as tears streamed down her face. “I’d like to go home now,” I croaked, the burning in my throat leaving it tight and dry.
“Please don’t be too hard on him, Charlotte. I know this has been eating him up, but he’s never told anyone. The only reason I know is because Izzy and I were best friends, and because I’ve always been a huge part of their lives.”
“I understand.” I didn’t understand at all, but I wanted to. I wanted to understand why Ezra had kept this huge secret from me for the last month. I cast my mind back and couldn’t think of a time he’d out-and-out lied about his mother, but a lie of omission was sometimes worse. It had the ability to break your trust in a person as much as a bald-faced lie. “I’ve had a lovely time this afternoon, Lilah,” I said stiffly, summoning up the manners my mother had instilled in me from a young age. “And I really appreciate you asking me over and showing me pictures. But I’d like to go home now. Please.”
Her shoulders slumped. She looked at me beseechingly for a long minute, but when I didn’t say anything she got to her feet and motioned for me to follow.
The drive home was agony. I kept my face turned away, looking out the window so I wouldn’t have to see Lilah’s tortured expression. I felt bad for her; she hadn’t meant to tell me, but I didn’t know how to make her feel better.
When she dropped me off, I thanked her again, and she promised to get the pictures copied soon. As I climbed from the car, she put her hand on my arm. “Please, Charlotte. Please don’t be too hard on him. He really cares about you.”
I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.
I simply nodded and got out of the car. She popped the trunk and I retrieved my bike, leaning it against a tree near the driveway. As I made my way slowly across the yard, Ezra came out the front door of his house and smiled brightly when he saw me.