Spinning Forward

by Terri DuLong

  My trained ears heard the increased shortness of breath, but I refrained from commenting. “Sounds good,” I said, settling on the sofa.

  Sybile joined me carrying two glasses of chardonnay. “So what have you been up to? How’s that new beau of yours?”

  Cripe, even a woman who hardly ventured from her home seemed to know the latest gossip on this island. “I wouldn’t exactly call Noah Hale my beau. I’ve had dinner with him, that’s all.”

  “Well, seems he’d be a mighty fine catch to me.”

  “I suppose if one was out there fishing he might be.”

  “So you plan to spend the rest of your life alone?”

  “Like mother, like daughter,” I retorted, not sure I believed what I was saying.

  Sybile threw her head back laughing. “Touché.”

  “Look, Sybile, I doubt you summoned me here to discuss my love life—or the lack of one. So what’s up?”

  “You get right to the point, don’cha? I like a no-nonsense type of woman.” She slowly took a sip from the wineglass. “You’re right. That isn’t why I wanted you to come over. Seems you’ve become pretty chummy with Saren.”

  “If you mean we’re friends, yes, we are.”

  Sybile nodded. “Then maybe you could do me a favor. I’d like to invite him to dinner but I’d like you to do the asking, and I’d also like you to be here if he accepts.”

  Was Sybile-the-Lion-Heart having a change of mind? She’d been loathsome to poor Saren over the years and I wasn’t about to let her off the hook easily. “Now why would I want to do that? More important, why would you want to do that?”

  Sybile avoided eye contact and remained silent for a few moments. “Well, I’m on my way to checkin’ out—why not make amends with people before my grand departure?”

  “Ah, I see…. Now that you’re close to dying, why not stir up all those emotions that Saren once had for you? Yes, that sounds like something you’d do. Refuel his feelings and then poof! You’ll be gone once again—but this time, permanently. Yeah, that sounds like a very nice thing to do.”

  Sybile’s eyes flashed anger. “You think you know everything. You don’t know a damn thing—you with the pampered and cultured upbringing. Forget it—forget I even asked you to do this.”

  My annoyance escalated to match Sybile’s anger. “How dare you think you know me. And how dare you comment on my upbringing. You don’t know a thing about me—and let’s not forget, that was your choice. You got exactly what you wanted out of this life, Sybile, and that includes the loss of Saren.”

  Sybile inhaled deeply, resting her head against the back of the sofa. “You’re right,” she said softly, staring up at the ceiling. “I created my own destiny. But it doesn’t mean that the way I shaped it was the right way.”

  My anger abated in proportion to Sybile’s. Was the woman admitting to regret now that her days were truly numbered?

  As if hearing my thought, Sybile continued, “I meant what I’ve always said—I have no regrets. But that doesn’t mean I sometimes haven’t wished that things could have been different.”

  “Are you referring to your modeling career or to Saren?”

  “Both. He’s a good, kind person. I know that. I’ve always known that. But I admit it just wasn’t enough for me. I craved more and I tried to take the necessary steps to make it happen. I never, ever, intentionally hurt Saren. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  I interpreted this to be as close to an apology that Sybile would ever verbalize. “But why didn’t you bother with him after you returned to the island? Obviously you both cared for each other—if not as lovers, then definitely as friends. All these years wasted, with no contact.”

  Sybile nodded. “You’re right,” was all she said.

  “Okay, listen. I’ll do what you’re asking, but you have to make me a promise.”

  Sybile’s face took on a wary expression but she remained silent.

  “You have to tell Saren the truth. He has a right to know your medical situation and the prognosis. If you’re going to let him back into your life, it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I agree. I’ll tell him.”

  “Oh, and one more thing. You have to be nice to him. There’s no sense renewing a friendship if you’re only going to be mean.”

  Sybile’s feisty demeanor returned. “What’re you talking about? I haven’t been mean to him. I am who I am—and Saren knows that. So don’t go givin’ me orders, like you’re the mother and I’m the daughter.”

  I stifled a grin. There was some truth to that statement. “Well, just be nice. I like Saren—a lot. And I won’t stand by and watch you hurt him again. Understand?”

  “Yes, Mom. So when will you ask him?”

  “When do you want to arrange this dinner?”

  “How about Monday evening? That is, if you’re not busy with your—that guy.”

  “You should start working on that sassiness of yours right now and maybe you should also be more concerned with your own beau.”

  Sybile grinned and tilted her wineglass toward me. I wondered if that streak of sassiness could be inherited in the genes.

  26

  Driving to pick up Saren, I recalled the man’s excitement that Sybile had actually invited him for dinner. “Dinner?” he’d said. “She really wants me to her place for dinner? That’s sure more than I coulda hoped for. Of course I accept. You tell her, ‘Yessiree, I accept.’”

  A grin crossed my lips as I pulled up in front of Saren’s house on the golf cart, gave two little toots on the horn, and waited. Within seconds he appeared on the front porch clutching a huge bouquet of red roses. Getting into the cart he smiled sheepishly.

  “Those are lovely, Saren. I have a feeling Sybile will be impressed.”

  “I sure hope so, Miss Sydney. I went into Chiefland earlier today to the florist there. Told him to give me a big bouquet of his best roses.”

  I smiled and headed in the direction of the Lighthouse. Pulling into the gravel driveway, I noticed Saren hesitate before getting out. “Anything wrong?” I asked.

  “Naw, just a little nervous, I guess.”

  I patted his hand. “Come on. It’ll be fine.”

  Knocking on the screen, I walked in without waiting for Sybile. “Hey, we’re here,” I hollered.

  Sybile approached us from her bedroom, clad in a long, flowing silk caftan. Black background with white lightning bolts matched the turban covering her head. I thought the only thing missing was a long, mother-of-pearl cigarette holder straight out of the forties.

  “Saren—I’m glad you could make it.”

  I detected a subdued but courteous tone.

  Outstretching his hand filled with roses, he nodded. “These are for you and thank you for inviting me.”

  “They’re lovely. I’ll get them into a vase. But don’t be thanking me till the night is over. You might be sorry you came. Well then, have a seat, both of you, and I’ll uncork some wine.”

  I led the way to the family room and chose the leather chair. Saren walked to the glass doors and stood looking out to the marsh and ocean beyond. “Quite a view you have from here. I can see why you wanted to live here.”

  Sybile joined us carrying a tray with three crystal glasses filled with white wine. Handing one to me, she replied, “Can you now? I tend to doubt that you truly understand why I wanted to cloister myself here in my ivory tower.”

  I caught the snappish tone in the words. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  But Saren overlooked Sybile’s brusqueness. “You always were like Rapunzel, Sybi. I imagine you came here to finally let your hair down.”

  Missing what was obviously a private joke between them, I was astounded to see a smile form on Sybile’s lips. And Sybi? Where did this Sybi come from?

  “But instead of letting it down, I’ve cut it off, haven’t I?” Taking her wineglass she clinked it against the rim of his. “Here’s to past memories, Saren. Sometimes they do have a
way of catching up with us.” Turning toward me, she repeated the gesture and said, “And my daughter here has finally caught up with me. An indiscretion I’ve kept secret.”

  Shock registered on Saren’s face as he stared at Sybile.

  “You should be mighty proud of her, Sybi. You have a fine woman there for a daughter. I’m glad you’ve found one another,” he said, but refrained from asking any details.

  Observing the interaction before me, I felt inordinately pleased with what Saren said. Hearing his words made me feel like that school kid running home with a good report card to soak up the compliments from her parents, but I loathed the tactless way Sybile had chosen to explain me.

  “Yes, well, I guess it was meant to be. Lord knows I lived my life keeping it a secret.”

  I took a deep breath. How was it this woman was capable of taking a well-intended compliment and belittling it. The fact wasn’t lost on me that Sybile had also neglected to agree with Saren.

  “Maybe keeping it a secret was your downfall, Sybile. Seems you still have that peculiarity of not appreciating the good things that are right in front of your nose.”

  I braced herself for the nastiness I was sure would spew forth and was surprised when it didn’t. I was also surprised to observe that Saren seemed to have the ability to say it like it was with Sybile and not be the recipient of her backlash.

  Brushing off his statement, she said, “I have some Brie and crackers to go with this wine before dinner,” and headed to the kitchen.

  I began to feel as if I were observing a stage play—where the characters were unfamiliar to me. Although I couldn’t quite define the difference, I knew that Saren and Sybile together were different than they were separately. Silly as it seemed, Sybile appeared more docile—the feistiness in a holding pattern. Saren struck me as the bolder of the two—a take-charge demeanor had come over him that I hadn’t witnessed before.

  Saren reached for a cracker, looking Sybile right in the eye. “So what’s this I hear about you being ill?”

  Hesitating for a second, she then snapped, “Ill? Hell, I’m not ill. I’m dying.”

  I could almost see that proverbial elephant sitting directly in front of us and glanced over to catch Saren’s reaction.

  He bowed his head and remained silent for a few moments. Looking up at Sybile, his eyes glistened with moisture. “I was afraid you were going to tell me that. You know I’m sorry, Sybi. I’m terribly sorry this is happening to you.”

  Recovering her sardonic nature, she snapped, “Yeah, well, it has to happen to all of us at one time or another, doesn’t it? Not like we can escape it.” She took a long sip from her wineglass. “So there ya have it. I felt it…. Actually, Sydney felt it was only proper to tell you myself.”

  I caught the barb Sybile had tossed at him. Making him realize that if she’d had her way, she wouldn’t have told him at all.

  “And I thank you for telling me. So now—now what are you going to do to fight this?”

  Sybile threw her head back laughing. “Same ole Saren. Wants to save the world. Well, you can’t save me. I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

  “It’s never too late. Remember that fat woman? It ain’t over till she sings.”

  “Yeah, well, I can hear her singing in the distance. Saren, back off. I’ve had enough of this from Dora. It isn’t going to amount to a hill of beans if I have the treatment or not. Sure, it might prolong my life by a few months—a few miserable months at that. I don’t want that and I refuse to go that route.”

  I shifted in my chair, took a sip of wine, and waited for Saren’s reaction.

  After a few minutes of silence, he nodded. “Okay.”

  Sybile’s head shot up, surprise covering her face. “Okay? You mean you’re not going to fight me on this? Try to talk me out of it—like you did with so many things when we were young?”

  Saren expelled a deep breath and shook his head. “No. Maybe I was wrong back then to do that. I’ll never know for sure. But I do know that as we get older we can more easily understand where the other person is coming from. We might not agree with it—but I find it easier to accept.”

  Sybile remained silent.

  “The only thing I ask, Sybi, is that you let me share whatever time you have left. Will you do that? Can we be friends like we were as kids? Can I take you out on my boat again? Will you let me be a part of your days? Will you allow me to celebrate this life with you—as you never would for all these years?”

  I looked over to see Sybile’s head was bent, fingering the stem of her wineglass.

  Swiping a finger across her eye, she sniffed twice and took a deep breath. “I reckon that would be okay, Saren.” Tossing her head and sitting straighter in the chair, she retorted, “Just don’t go getting clingy on me. I won’t stand for that, ya know. And don’t even think about us moving in together or any such nonsense. Understood?”

  I felt I was getting a glimpse of the young girl Sybile used to be. Even her language and voice changed as she laid down the rules for Saren. Glancing over, I saw a grin cross the man’s face.

  “It surely is understood, Miss Sybile. I’ve always understood you. You just never wanted to admit that.”

  Getting up from her seat, Sybile stood in front of Saren, hand on her hip. “Don’t you go gettin’ know-it-all on me either like when we were young. ’Cuz I ain’t young anymore and I stand up for myself. So if you wanna be friends, you’d better be mindin’ those Ps and Qs of yours. Ya hear?”

  Saren got up quickly from his chair, appearing suddenly much younger than his stated age of eighty-two. Grasping Sybile by her shoulders, he looked into her eyes as a smile crinkled his face. “Oh, I hear, alright. I sure enough do. I always heard you, Sybile. It was you that cut off the words for me to hear anymore.”

  Leaning toward her, he kissed her cheek.

  Accepting the kiss, Sybile then quickly brushed him away with her hands. “Okay, enough of this canoodling. I have a roast pork in the oven that needs tendin’ to.”

  I watched my mother walk toward the kitchen and then glanced at Saren. I had no doubt that I’d just witnessed a momentous episode in the life of two people who had somehow lost their way and were now reconnecting.

  27

  Dora was waiting on the pavement when I arrived at the yarn shop to open on Tuesday morning. “Are you here to purchase something? You’re off today, remember?” I said, holding Lilly’s leash with one hand while inserting the key with the other.

  “I do need some yarn, but I came over to get the lowdown on that dinner last evening.”

  I laughed as we walked inside and I unclipped Lilly’s leash. “You mean to tell me your sister didn’t share all the details with you?”

  “She’s as bad as she was in high school. Making me grovel for every piece of information.”

  “Just another thing I missed not having a sister, I guess.” I began preparing the coffeemaker.

  “Well?” Dora demanded.

  I heard the impatience in my aunt’s voice. “Well—now, I’m not sure I should be the one to relay the evening to you,” I replied, turning my back so Dora wouldn’t see the grin.

  “It’s times like this that you remind me so damn much of Sybile.”

  I threw my head back laughing. “I won’t torment you any longer. What exactly did Sybile tell you?”

  “That the roast pork turned out to perfection. Beyond that, not much else.”

  I shook my head. “She is a tough one, that woman. She didn’t tell you that she and Saren have, shall we say, renewed old acquaintances?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, he asked if he could be her friend again. Take her out in his boat, do things together, I imagine.”

  This time it was Dora that shook her head. “That man always did seem to have a way with her. Until she went to New York, that is. No amount of talking could convince her otherwise.”

  I poured the carafe of water into the coffeepot and tu
rned around to face Dora. “Did you think Saren was good for Sybile back then?”

  “Good for her?”

  “Yeah, I mean you said everyone on the island thought they’d end up together. Did you think that would be a good thing for her?”

  Dora took a moment to think over the question. “Yes, I’d have to say I did. I know Mama and Daddy thought he’d be able to tame her down a bit.”

  “But that’s just it. Maybe Sybile didn’t want to be tamed down at that point in her life.”

  “Obviously,” Dora retorted.

  I knew Dora was referring to my birth. I also knew I had no idea where these thoughts were coming from. I hadn’t considered it at all until I saw Saren and Sybile together. “What I mean is, maybe Sybile needed to pursue her own path in life. Not Saren’s. Maybe she needed to figure out who she was before she could commit to another person.” Realizing I could be talking about myself, I blurted out, “Maybe she felt she was being smothered by Saren. Every relationship involves a certain amount of restraint—but it has to be when the person is ready.”

  “And you’re saying she’s ready now? After all these years?”

  “Her time’s running out, Dora.”

  “Hmm, you could be right. Well, then, I’m happy for her. And Saren too. If they’re going to resume their friendship, I’m all for it.”

  I put the finishing touches on the salad, replacing it in the fridge to chill, and nodded in approval at the table set with yellow place mats in the shape of a seashell, the brightly colored yellow and blue plates, and two crystal wineglasses. Placing a vase of white carnations from Saren’s garden in the center, I stepped back to assess the arrangement. Something was nagging at me. Had been all day. I realized it wasn’t the table setting or even the dinner with Noah. It was the discussion with Dora earlier that day.

  Lighting up a cigarette I walked outside to the balcony. Lilly was romping in the yard below attempting to catch a squirrel. Blowing out a puff of smoke, I glanced at the water. The tide was coming in. I could smell it in the air. What was this disconcerted feeling I’d had all day? And why was I suddenly coming to understand Sybile’s feelings of over fifty years ago?