A not unpleasant twinkle filled her eyes and a tiny smile pulled the corners of her mouth, but at this very moment she couldn’t make time for him.
Hopefully later.
What Lori-Anne needed right now was the comfort and wisdom that could only be found in the person she trusted and valued the most: her mother.
* * *
Mathieu stood in the frigid cold of early December, the distant winter sun a meaningless cold start unable to chase the chill he felt in his bones. He didn’t hurry back inside, though, choosing to watch as a little red hatchback pulled away, certain that it was Lori-Anne’s car.
He stayed outside until the car had vanished into the horizon, and then he started to shiver, so he went back into the warmth of the building. He took one last look through the window in the door and walked away. Exams were coming and he needed to study. He needed to concentrate.
As best he could.
And then Christmas break.
Chances were he wasn’t going to see Lori-Anne until after the holidays, when second semester started in January. And then he’d be done with English, so he wouldn’t see her much.
But he knew where to find her.
Hopefully he hadn’t blown his opportunity.
* * *
When she was a little girl, Lori-Anne’s mother would help her brush her hair at night, working all the knots out before she went to bed, like her grandmother had done for her mother, and her great-grandmother had done with her grandmother.
She’d been told.
It had been a ritual young Lori-Anne had looked forward to each night until about the time puberty hit, and then it had suddenly seemed ridiculous and rather childish, so the tradition had come to an end.
Until today.
When she’d gotten home earlier, Lori-Anne had sought out her mother, to whom she’d recounted everything that had been going on in her life these past few months, an exercise that left Lori-Anne feeling very vulnerable, naked, and shamed.
But once she’d unloaded this burden of mistakes, her thoughts seemed more cohesive, like she’d been liberated, and she started to feel like she could move on and become the woman she knew she could be.
“So this Mathieu has caught your eye?” her mother said as she brushed out Lori-Anne’s matted locks, trying not to pull them out of her daughter’s scalp. “You’ve made a mess of your hair, dear.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Lori-Anne said. “And yes, all those times he came to see me, I knew he didn’t really need my help, but I had someone else on my mind. Today, though, I’m sure I was looking for him, I knew he was there. When he smiled at me, I don’t know . . . hopefully I’m not imagining it, but I felt a connection. But I couldn’t stay any longer in that room. I had to go. And he came after me, he watched me drive away. It must mean something, right?”
Lori-Anne saw her mother smile, an all-knowing smile, the way she remembered when she’d try to tell her mom a little white lie when she was a teenager, probably saying she was going to spend the night at a girlfriend’s house when really she was going to some party. Funny how Lori-Anne had not seen through her mother’s smile back then, feeling good about herself for pulling one over on her mom when it fact it had always been her mother who had pulled one over on her.
Tonight that smile was the home comfort she needed.
“Then I look forward to meeting that young man,” her mother said before brushing out the last of the knots in Lori-Anne’s hair. “I just want you to be happy and to share your life with someone you love and who loves you back.”
Tears welled in Lori-Anne’s eyes and streaked down her face. “It’s all I’ve ever really wanted. I’m only twenty-three, Mom, but sometimes trying to live up to Dad’s expectations . . . the energy needed to meet those expectations makes me feel a hundred years old. That’s why I’ve tried to hide myself in a dead-end affair; that’s why I can’t be who Dad wants me to be.”
Her mother wrapped her arms around Lori-Anne’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Let me worry about your dad. You do what you need to do to be happy.”
Lori-Anne wiped her tears and a tired shadow of gratitude passed across her face and reflected in the mirror back to her mom. Months of confusion, of making a mess of her life, finally seemed to draw to a close. Why she hadn’t talked to her mother sooner eluded her.
The little girl in her still rebelling?
The woman in her, trying to stand on her own?
Probably a bit of both.
“I love you, Mom.”
* * *
Mathieu pushed his food around on his plate, his mind on more important things than filling his stomach.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” his grandmother, a short, rounded, silver-haired grandmotherly type, said. “School going okay?”
“Leave the boy alone,” his grandfather said. He was a tall, solid man even at the age of sixty-five. “If he wants to talk about it, he’ll tell us.”
A beat passed. “I met a girl.”
“That’s wonderful,” his grandmother said. “What’s her name?”
“Lori-Anne,” he said and put his fork down. He pushed the plate away. “She’s in my English class. Sort of. She’s a Teaching Assistant.”
“That’s wonderful,” his grandmother said again.
“She’s a fourth-year student. I met with her once or twice for extra help, and she’s not only beautiful, but she’s so smart, opinionated, funny. She’s got these light green eyes that totally draw me in when she laughs, and she laughs just like Aunt Jacqueline does, deep down inside, like her entire body comes together to form the laugh.”
“Yes, your aunt does have a wonderful laugh,” Grandma said. “So when did you two start dating?”
Mathieu shook his head. “That’s the thing. We haven’t. Until today, I didn’t think I had a chance.”
“What happened today?” Grandpa said.
Mathieu told them everything he remembered. He saw the way his grandparents looked at each other, like they couldn’t be happier.
“What?”
His grandmother put a spotted hand on his. “It’s not our place to tell you what to do. You’re old enough to make you own decisions. When it comes to matters of the heart, you have to follow what it tells you, not what others tell you.”
“That’s the thing,” he said. “My heart and my brain don’t exactly agree. What if she decides that whatever she had with Professor Halfpenny is worth saving?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” she said.
“And what if she laughs in my face, and not that beautiful laugh but more of a what-are-you-thinking sort of laugh and says no?”
“You think you’re the only man who’s had those doubts?” Grandpa said. “I had those doubts before I courted your grandmother. Your dad had those doubts before he asked your mother out on their first date. I’d never seen Denis so nervous.”
“That’s so hard for me to imagine,” he said. “I don’t remember them like you and Grandma do. It sometimes makes me feel guilty.”
He felt his grandmother pat his hand again. “No need to, honey. It was a long time ago and you were young.”
“I know, but—”
“You can’t change what happened. What you can change is what’s ahead of you.”
“I was so confident a few hours ago.”
“No reason not to still be,” Grandpa said.
Mathieu let out a big sigh. “I guess the worst that can happen is that she says no.”
His grandfather slapped him on the back. “Now you’re getting somewhere.”
* * *
Things weren’t as awkward with Miles as Lori-Anne had feared, probably because she had decided that it was best this way, that there was no point trying to get back with him.
And Miles hadn’t said anything to try and get her back.
Which was a relief. They both knew their time had run its course. But they still
had to work together, so they had to figure a better working arrangement and within a couple days, she found office space with another UTA student, which worked out better anyway since they never seemed to be in at the same times.
A knock on the open door pulled Lori-Anne’s attention away from the mess on her desk that she was trying to sort through.
“Mathieu,” she said, the smile on her face so big it hurt her cheeks. “You found my new digs.”
“Yeah, Pennyman told me,” he said, then caught himself. “I mean Professor Halfpenny.”
“I was a freshman not long ago and I’ve heard all of his nicknames,” she said. “Not like I care one way or another what people call him.”
“You sure?” Mathieu said. “After what happened the other day?”
“What happened the other day?”
“Two weeks ago, on the last day of class.”
“Oh, that,” she said with a dismissive wave. “Not one of my best moments. But I’ve moved on. How were your exams?”
“Good. I think.” He scratched the back of his head. He glanced down the hall. “You wouldn’t have graded my English exam by any chance?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. Once I do, then Professor Halfpenny reviews them too.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.”
“I guess to make sure he agrees with the grade.”
“Is that what you’re doing? If you’re busy I can come back.”
Lori-Anne sat back and tucked her hair behind her left ear. She seemed to suck at her lower lip as she looked at Mathieu. He seemed a little nervous, which she hoped meant he was really interested in her. That made her feel good.
It felt nice to be wanted, not to be kept a secret.
Her eyes followed the length of his legs up to what looked like a thick chest, broad shoulders, strong chin, blue-grey eyes that were irresistible, and why did he have to have blond hair à la Kurt Cobain? And two-day old stubble to boot. It’s a wonder she hadn’t noticed how attractive he actually was before when he’d come to see her.
Of course she knew why. She’d had her eyes closed to anyone but Miles.
“I was wondering—” he began.
“Crap!” she said and sprang to her feet. “I’m sorry. I just noticed the time and I need to get going.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” he said.
“I promised my dad that I’d come by the office tonight and put some quotes together for this job he’s bidding on.” She saw the confused look on his face. “He owns a construction company.”
“Oh.”
“Walk me to my car?”
“Sure.”
She handed him her backpack and then grabbed her winter jacket and scarf. They headed down the hallway.
“Is that what you want to do after you graduate?”
“Work for my dad?”
He nodded.
“God, no. It’s what he wants, but it’s not going to happen.”
“English teacher?”
“I don’t think I ever really wanted that either but . . . you know.”
Mathieu didn’t say anything to that and they walked the last few steps in silence, stopping at the door. She gave him her jacket so she could wrap the scarf around her neck. Mathieu helped her with the winter coat.
“Such a gentleman,” she said.
They stood awkwardly for a moment, staring at each other.
“It’s cold outside and you don’t have a jacket.”
He looked away. “Yeah, back in my locker.”
“Thanks for walking me to the door,” she said and took her backpack. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk longer.”
“Me too.”
Another quiet moment passed.
“I guess I better go,” she said. “I . . . my dad is expecting me and I’m late. And he’s kind of . . . you know, a boss and all. Even with me. Since he’s paying for my education, I have to earn it back.” She paused. If only she could get out of her obligation, but there was no one else who could do this quote for her. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For leaving so soon.”
They looked at each other.
“I’m sorry too.”
Lori-Anne’s bit her lower lip. “Well, I hope you have a Merry Christmas.”
“Yeah, I guess this was the last day before break. I wasn’t sure I was going to see you . . . anyway, have a Merry Christmas.”
Lori-Anne put her hand on the door latch. Once again her dad’s business was meddling in her life. No wonder she wanted no part of it. “I’ll see you later.”
“I hope so.”
She’d killed the mood. Without another word, she left, disappointment following her to the car.
* * *
Mathieu watched Lori-Anne walk toward her Golf, the second time in as many weeks. He wondered, somewhat annoyed, if this was going to become a pattern.
“Damn,” he said.
He’d been hoping to ask her if she wanted to go for coffee, somewhere quiet where they could talk and get to know each other. He really thought she would have said yes.
But—
Instead she was on her way to work and he was left standing by the door, alone. He was starting to think maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Like his hockey career when he’d torn his knee. He’d played right defence and was heading to retrieve the puck in the corner when he felt the opponent’s stick poke under his left skate. He’d lost his edge and hit the boards hard, and his knee had bent awkwardly. He’d torn everything: the MCL, ACL, and meniscus.
He was never the same dominant player afterwards.
Lost his confidence.
Then lost his girlfriend, Janet.
She’d been more interested in becoming an NHL player’s wife, apparently. It took him a long time to recover, from the injury and from losing Janet, and he’d been less inclined to jump into relationships afterwards, but there was something about Lori-Anne that felt right, like she was worth pursuing.
He wasn’t giving up. It didn’t matter how many times his plans didn’t work out, he was going to keep trying until it happened.
* * *
Lori-Anne drove away, eyeing the clock on the dashboard. If there was one thing her dad expected of all his employees, including her, it was punctuality. Things didn’t get done on time if you were chasing the clock.
She didn’t disagree, and lived her life pretty much the same. She’d never handed in an assignment late.
But she was starting to feel she was spread a bit thin. On top of her heavy load of schoolwork and her UTA workload, she also worked at Weatherly Construction. She’d been doing it since she was sixteen, to earn some money at first, and to gain experience. Maybe at one point she had entertained the idea of working for her dad, but that had changed over the last few months. A failed affair was a great eye-opener.
Marketing seemed to be her thing. Plus, she wanted experience outside the family business. Come April, she’d have her degree and would be hunting for her first real job. She didn’t think her mom had talked to her dad yet, but Lori-Anne hoped she would soon. The sooner he got used to the idea that she wasn’t coming to work for him, the better. She felt for her mom, but if anyone could get through to her dad, it had to be his wife.
Even at twenty-three, her father made Lori-Anne feel like a four-year-old.
Such a hard man to please.
She promised herself never to be that way to her kids.
When she got to work, Nancy was putting Suzie into her car seat while little Derek, five already, was sitting in his booster seat and had managed to clip his seatbelt on by himself. Her nephew was a little man and even though he was the spitting image of Jim, Lori-Anne had noticed that he was more like Nancy—thoughtful, helpful, sensitive but not in a vulnerable way. She had seen how protective of his little sister Suzie he’d become.
“You leaving?” Lori-Anne said.
Nancy straightened. She looked tired
. “The kids wanted to stop by and see their dad. He’s been working such long hours lately, we hardly see him.”
“Business has been crazy, and dad’s been driving everyone hard. What else is new, right?”
“Your dad is your dad.”
Lori-Anne felt a chill. “Wind is brutal.”
“It was a struggle getting Suzie into her winter suit. First she’s all limp like a noodle, then stiff as a rod. At least Little Man gets himself dressed now.”
“He’s getting so big. Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages,” Lori-Anne said as she pulled her hood over her head. “I really should drop by. Christmas break is coming so I should have some time. I can’t wait to be done with school.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Nancy said. “Derek kind of halted my plans, and now Suzie. I’m so busy all day just taking care of them.”
“Maybe someday you can go back and get that degree.”
Nancy gave a nod lacking conviction.
“Mom, close the door, it’s cold,” Derek said.
“Guess that’s my cue,” Nancy said. “We’ll see you Christmas Eve even if you can’t come any other time.”
“I’ll try, so we can really catch up.”
The two sisters-in-law hugged.
Lori-Anne walked briskly to the office, wanting to get out of the cold, and even though it was well after six, almost seven, it was a full house. She said a few hellos and then disappeared into her cubicle and got right to it. If no one bugged her, she figured she’d be done by nine.
As she worked away, she wondered how she was going to fit Mathieu in if they ever managed to hook up, and then realized that if she’d been able to fit an affair into her busy life, she shouldn’t have a problem fitting in a new boyfriend.
A pleasant smirk nudged its way onto her lips.
* * *
After his knee injury, and after coming to terms with the fact that a professional hockey career was never going to happen, Mathieu had poured all his energy into his two other passions: writing and woodworking.
The former his grandmother had told him he’d probably inherited from his mother, who had been an avid reader and had been working on a novel when she’d died. His grandmother had had the privilege of reading some of the rough draft and she’d been impressed by his mother’s writing. She’d been certain that his mother would have become a popular writer.
We Became Us Page 2