by Terri DuLong
“Not in the least,” Dora replied, without hesitating. “Were you?”
“Very much so. Sybile sure didn’t act like that with me when we first met. Still doesn’t.”
“She’s my sister and I love her dearly, but I’ve always said she’s an odd duck. Sybile sees her younger self in Monica. Didn’t you catch on to that?”
“Yeah, probably, but…”
“Sybile doesn’t have a lot of tolerance for people with a lack of passion. She’s always considered me a very dull person. Not willing to take risks. More content with the solidness of life. The total opposite of what she is.”
“So you’re saying she sees me as dull and Monica as frivolous?”
“Not in so many words, but I think she saw that spark in Monica that she had herself as a young girl. And now that she knows her own life is coming to an end, I think it makes her feel that a small part of her will continue on in Monica.”
I had never thought of it in that respect. Dora could be right. “So what you’re saying is, I ended up being more like you?”
Dora smiled. “I’m sure that’s how Sybile sees it.” Walking around the counter Dora pulled me into an embrace. “That’s not so bad, is it?”
I laughed, returning the hug. “No, Aunt Dora, that’s not so bad at all.”
The confrontation came that evening. I returned from work, had just finished up the supper dishes, and was about to relax with a cup of tea when I heard a knock on the door. Opening it, I saw Noah leaning against the railing, arms folded across his chest. The expression on his face was neutral.
“In most civilized societies, when one knocks on a door, one gets invited in,” he said.
I stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come on in.”
“Okay, what’s going on? I’ve tried to call you all week and all week you’ve avoided me. What have I done? The least you can do is give me an explanation as to why you’re acting like a bitch.”
“A bitch?” This was definitely not getting off to a good start. “How dare you call me a bitch.”
Ignoring my anger, he pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “You owe me an explanation. So tell me what’s going on with us.”
“Us? There is no us. Why would you assume there’s an us? You’re free to do as you please. And I don’t owe you a thing.”
Rather than sit, I began pacing back and forth in the small kitchen area.
“Aha,” Noah said, slamming his hand on the table. “That’s it. This all has to do with Valerie and the way she acted at the party, doesn’t it?”
Receiving no response, he said, “I thought so. But I really didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to pay attention to her antics.”
I stopped pacing to stand directly in front of him, hands on hips. “Oh,” I screamed into his face, “so now I’m a bitch and foolish.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Couldn’t you see what she was doing?”
“Are you going to sit there and deny there’s anything going on between you and her?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing—telling you there’s nothing between us.”
“Hmm,” I said, lips pursed together, nodding my head slowly. “So I guess this is a question of semantics.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Are you now going to tell me there was never anything between you? And I do mean that literally.”
The look of surprise on Noah’s face was answer enough. After a few moments, his anger returned. “So what—so what if maybe I was with her in the past. The past is exactly that—before I met you. Do you think I’m going to grill you on every single man you ever had sex with before me? That’s insane.”
No, what’s probably insane, I thought, was the fact I’d have to admit there was only one before Noah.
“It might be the past but you know what they say about that. It always comes back to haunt you. And yours did—in the form of Valerie.”
Noah threw his arms up in the air. “So what? What’re you saying? That just because she acted like a jealous female that now you’re going to act like a high school kid? That whatever we did have—and dammit, we had something—it’s now over? Just like that. Because of her?”
I resumed my pacing. “No, not just because of her.” I knew I’d probably be sorry for what I was about to say, but anger and disappointment were consuming me. “I’m sick and tired of you treating me like a high school kid. Choosing my menu, opening wine bottles for me, not allowing me to think for myself. I’m my own person. It took me a long time to figure it out—but I know who I am and I don’t need you smothering me in the process.”
I spun around to see the expression on Noah’s face resembled someone who had been physically slapped.
He got up from the chair and walked the few steps to the door. Without turning around, he said, “You haven’t even begun to figure out who you are. You don’t even have a clue.”
I stared at the door as it closed quietly behind him.
Within five minutes, I heard another knock on the door and opened it to see Ali standing with a bottle of Pinot Grigio in her hand.
“I was in the garden and saw Noah leave.”
I shook my head and said, “Not tonight, Ali.”
Pushing past me into the kitchen, Alison said, “Yes, tonight, Syd. Let’s go out on the balcony.”
Dabbing at my eyes with a tissue I followed Ali outside. Accepting the glass of wine, I sniffled before taking a sip. Neither of us spoke. We both sat inhaling the scent of lantana in the air, listened to the whispers of ibis flying overhead to the outer islands, and watched the pink, rose hues of the sky that was ending another day. We sat there in the silence until the western sky darkened.
I sighed and took another sip of wine. “Thank you,” I said softly.
Alison glanced over at me. “For what?”
“For understanding.”
“I never said I understood. As a matter of fact—I don’t. Not at all.”
“Neither do I. But thanks for not badgering me.” Putting down the wineglass, I reached for my cigarettes, lit one up, tilted my head toward the sky, and exhaled the smoke. “I don’t know what’s going on, Ali. I came here in November and my whole life seemed upside down. I had no idea where I was headed or how I was going to get there. But things began to fall into place. I wasn’t even sure I’d stay here and then, all of sudden I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving this island. I came here hoping to find myself—that person that I never knew existed. And what do I find instead? A mother I had no desire to find and a man that I liked way more than I wanted to. I thought I had also found me—the real me. But tonight—tonight Noah told me I haven’t begun to find myself. That I still don’t have a clue as to who I am.”
I felt the tears trickle down my face as I heard Alison say, “He’s right, Syd. I’m afraid you’re still seeking.”
34
In late June another summons came in the form of a phone call from Sybile. “I need to talk to you. Be at my house Sunday afternoon at three. And plan to stay for supper.”
No preamble, no questioning if possibly I had other plans, no thought at all for my feelings—just be there.
And yet once again I found myself obeying the command and driving to Sybile’s house that Sunday afternoon.
Settling on the sofa with a glass of iced tea, I said, “Okay, so what’s up?”
“More to the point—what’s up with you and that boyfriend of yours?”
“Excuse me—you make me come over here to ask me that? And he is not my boyfriend.”
Sybile raised an eyebrow. “Significant other? Is that what your age group is calling it these days?”
“God, you’re exasperating. I assume you’re referring to Noah.” I shifted on the sofa, irritated with the fact that Sybile had a way of making me feel like a wayward child. “We’re not seeing each other anymore. And I don’t want to discuss it with you. If you don’t have a better reason for making me come here, then
I have plenty of things I could be doing.”
“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a twitch. I asked you over so that you could help me plan my funeral.”
I let out an annoyed sigh. “So we’re back on that again.”
“Well, it is inevitable and if you don’t want to help your mother do…”
That was the first time that Sybile had willingly referred to herself as my mother. “I’ll help you. I’ll help you already,” I interrupted, feeling a tad of remorse. “So what’re we doing?”
“You know I want to be cremated, right?” Not waiting for my reply, she went on. “Okay, so I thought it might be nice if everyone gathered on Noah’s boat. Drive over on the other side of Atsena Otie—and maybe you could toss my remains there.”
“Me?”
“Well, you are my daughter. Actually, I thought maybe both you and Monica could do it together. You know—send me on my way. To wherever I’m going.”
“I could do that,” I said quietly.
Sybile nodded as she reached for a notebook. “Good. Okay, and next—I thought maybe Alison could play something nice on her flute.”
My eyes widened. This woman was really getting into planning. “I don’t know,” I said doubtfully. “Ali hasn’t played that flute in years. At least not that I’m aware of.”
“Well, maybe she’ll do it. So ask her. And I’d like that song, you know, the one about being lost and now found.”
“Amazing Grace’?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Sybile said as she jotted more notes on the paper. “Marin plays the guitar and she said she’d play something for me. I’m going to tell her I’d like ‘Dixie’—you know, for my Southern roots. She has a fairly decent singing voice too, so maybe she’d agree to sing the lyrics. Oh, and tell Alison I’d also like her to play ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ at the end of the service.”
I shook my head. Talk about an eclectic music selection. “I’ll ask her,” was all I said.
“Now, let’s see, what else,” Sybile said, checking her notes. “Oh, right—you could read a poem.”
Oh God, this really was going overboard. “A poem? I don’t know any poems.”
“Well, now might be a good time for you to start doing some research and find one you think might be appropriate for the occasion.”
The occasion? For Christ’s sake, it’s a funeral.
Ignoring my reluctance, Sybile continued, “So get to work on that. When you send me on my way, I’d like some gardenia petals tossed into the water with me. I think you can manage that, right? And above all, you must hold this service sometime in the afternoon. When Noah brings the boat back, I want all of you to gather here—at the Lighthouse for a festive meal. I’ll arrange this beforehand. A buffet of sorts would be nice, don’t you think?”
I only nodded but for the first time it crossed my mind that it would seem odd not to have Sybile living in this lighthouse. As designated in her will, it would be given to the Marine Lab and they in turn would sell it with the money going to research. I was surprised the thought of this bothered me.
“And I plan to do invitations. I don’t want the whole damn town there. Just certain people—people who’ve played a part in my life. There’s nothing worse than false sympathy. See that drawer in the desk over there?”
I looked to where Sybile was pointing a finger and nodded again.
“The invitations will all be written out, addressed, and stamped. When I’m gone, all you have to do is fill in the date of the gathering and drop them in the mail. Got that?”
“Yes, I’ll do that.”
Sybile looked over her notes again, flipping pages. “Well, except for a confirmation from Noah, I’d say we covered everything. I’ll get in touch with Noah myself since you’re acting so juvenile. Can you think of anything else I’ve missed?”
Another exasperated sigh escaped my lips. “Not a thing.”
“Good. Now let’s talk about this spat with Noah and see if we can fix that.”
“God, Sybile, I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, there’s no fixing it. It’s over. We dated a few times, had some fun—and now it’s finished.”
“Uh-huh, I see. Well, you foolish girl, in case you didn’t know, he has some pretty strong feelings for you.”
My head shot up. “How the hell do you know that?”
“I make it my business to know things. You’d be smart to do the same. Seems you got all in a twit because of some floozy blonde at his party?” Sybile shook her head. “No daughter of mine would give up without a fight and getting what she wanted. She’d have spirit.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“I don’t divulge my sources. The point is you need to take a stand with that bimbo. Let her know you won’t put up with her high jinks. Don’t be a wimp.”
“I’m not about to confront her. She can have him.”
“Really? And what if it isn’t her he wants?”
“I honestly don’t care what he wants. He’s slept with her for God’s sake, he—”
Sybile threw her head back laughing. “Ah, now I see. Now I see what this is all about. Jealousy. You’re just jealous because once upon a time he had sex with her. Well, get over yourself, girl. That was before he met you. Maybe you should have experienced a bit more before you married that husband of yours.”
I had visions of being raised by Sybile and turning into a promiscuous teenager. The woman’s attitude on sex was a far cry from the morals I’d grown up with.
Seeing that I remained silent, Sybile went on. “I told you once before—don’t make the same mistakes in life that I did. There’s no going back you know. And once your chance is gone, nothing will ever make it quite the same. If you learn nothing else from me—I want you to always remember that. Some day it might make sense to you.”
“Are you referring to my father? You let him go and you don’t want me to do the same thing?”
“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. You might not have gotten a lot of my genes, but unfortunately you did get my biggest fault—stubbornness. Sometimes that can be good when it’s to your benefit. But the problem is, most of the time we don’t know the final outcome. So then—then that’s when we take a chance and risk it. Don’t be a fool, Sydney. Don’t be a fool like your mother was.”
Getting up from the chair as quickly as her labored breathing would allow, Sybile motioned to me. “Come on, help me get that supper on the table that I promised you.”
Alison raised her eyes, shook her head, and began giggling. “Are you serious? She wants me to play the flute at her memorial service? And of all things, ‘Amazing Grace’?”
I had to admit, it did have a touch of humor. I shrugged my shoulders. “Hey, what can I say? The wishes of a dying woman. She wasn’t a conformist her entire life—do you think she’ll start now?”
“Christ, she’s a character.”
“So will you do it?”
Alison sat up straighter in the lawn chair. “Winston,” she hollered. “Leave that poor cat alone.” Turning to me, she nodded. “Yeah, I’ll do it. Guess I’d better start practicing.”
“So Paul left this morning?”
Alison sighed. “Yeah, gone again. He’s going to make a valiant effort to get back here in the fall though. Till then I’m a woman without a man.” She reached into her glass to squeeze a wedge of lemon in the iced tea. “You did know Noah left the island, right?”
“What? He’s gone?”
“Ah, yup. Paul said he left yesterday,” she said, holding back further information.
After a few moments I said, “Okay, and you want me to ask you for details, right?”
Alison smiled. “Not unless you want to.”
“So he’s left for good? Is he putting the house up for sale?”
Alison reached over and patted my hand before standing up. “No, he hasn’t left for good. He’s gone back to Savannah for a month or so. That’s what he told Paul. Needed some time to think is what
he said.” She headed toward the house, then paused, turning back to face me. “But it does make ya realize, be careful what you wish for.”
I was about to snap out a retort but changed my mind, chewing on my bottom lip instead.
35
I was putting the finishing touches on scalloped potatoes when Monica called to let me know she was just approaching the Number Four bridge.
“Great. I’ll see you in about ten minutes. And I’ve invited Saren to have supper with us this evening. I know you haven’t seen much of him.”
“That’s great. Is Sybile coming too?”
“No, she passed on the invitation. Said she wanted to conserve her energy for the blue-moon gathering tomorrow night.”
Monica laughed. “Leave it to Billie. She’s really enthused about this. I love you and I’ll see you soon.”
Rubbing rosemary onto the roast lamb, my thoughts drifted to Noah. It had been two months since we’d had any contact. As far as I knew, he was still in Savannah. Since he’d made no attempt to get in touch, I felt certain the relationship was over. Not wanting to dwell on the emptiness that his absence created, I forced him out of my mind.
“Miss Sydney, I do declare that was one of the best meals I’ve had in ages,” Saren said, wiping his lips with the linen napkin.
“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“He’s right, Mom. That lamb was cooked to perfection and I want the recipe for the potatoes.”
I smiled. “Sybile gave it to me and I’ll pass it on to you. Now it’s time for the famous cheesecake.”
Monica cleared the table as I measured coffee into the basket. It was easy to see that Monica was enjoying the one-on-one visit with Saren. He’d seemed genuinely interested in her life and shared anecdotes of his time in Manhattan.
“So you girls are all ready for your beach party tomorrow evening, are ya?” he asked.
Monica laughed. “It’s not a beach party. It’s a gathering of the female spirit.”
He nodded. “I see. Very serious stuff this is. I remember when the girls did it all those years ago. Why, my goodness, Sybile was only what…fifteen or sixteen years old? She’s just as excited about it now as she was then.” His face took on a serious expression. “It’s good for her, ya know? This going back in time and feeling like a kid again.”