Ginny was silent, thinking. She was incredibly easy to read. It was almost unfair.
“Some of the other kids have really nice cameras and their projects are coming out a lot better than mine. I’ve got one more project due and it’s a graduation requirement. I just want to do well on it. Besides, I was hoping to do a little traveling after graduation. Be nice to film the Eiffel Tower in style.”
“Paris? How nice! Can I come?”
He reached into his backpack and pulled out his English paper. “I’ve been doing a lot better. See?”
She looked genuinely surprised at the ‘A’ staring back at her. “Wow! Brendan, that’s–impressive. Congratulations! It’s good to see you getting back on track.” She was referring, of course, to the downward spiral his grades had taken after Tess died. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do the work–he’d just stopped caring.
“Thanks. I gotta go study.” He picked up his backpack and went to his room. Within minutes the front door closed, announcing his mother’s departure. He stayed on his bed until his neck muscles started to relax, then pulled the remnants of a joint out of the ashtray in the drawer, lighting it and finishing the last three drags until his fingers burned. Digital Imagery. It sounded like a good name for a class. If they offered a class called Bullshit 101 at the Wharton School of Business he’d probably get an A in that too.
It had taken her weeks to notice the shirt. That was longer than the piercings. He laid there rubbing the arms of his thermal, his fingers gently rolling over the slightly raised scars underneath. The weather was getting warmer. It wouldn’t be long before he’d have to lose the thermals altogether. Numbness and apathy overrode any feelings of remorse. A buttoned-down business shirt would hide pretty much everything.
CHAPTER TEN
“Fasten your seatbelt Dorothy, ‘cause Kansas is going bye-bye.”
- The Matrix
Paige was seated next to Frank Evans on the plane. Luckily he’d put them in first class so there was plenty of room between them, not to mention those fancy little fan-shaped partitions for when she wanted to try to doze off a bit. Still, it was going to be a long flight.
The flying part didn’t bother her as much. It was the landing she was worried about. She ordered a glass of wine and tried not to think about it. London was still eight hours away.
Frank liked to act as if he knew every stranger intimately. It was the ruse of his generation of businessmen. He spoke cordially, if not condescendingly, to everyone they met. Sure enough, a forty-something stewardess slithered over.
“Well! Frank Evans! What a surprise!” They exchanged knowing glances and Frank winked at the woman whose nametag read ‘Kelly’. After some hushed conversation, Frank scribbled the address of the hotel in Bern onto a piece of paper and slipped it into her apron.
Paige thought she might be sick, and take-off wasn’t helping. The plane lurched and jiggled and by the time they reached cruising altitude, sweat was trickling down the back of her blouse.
“Paige? Are you alright?”
She looked at Frank through dazed eyes. It had been a long time since she’d thrown up, but it was one of those feelings you never quite forgot. Her salivary glands were on forced overtime and it wasn’t long before Frank called Kelly over, asking for some tonic water with bitters. He had Paige lay her seat back and sip the tonic mixture through a tiny straw. She felt like a toddler, but he was surprisingly accommodating.
“So, tell me Paige–where did you and Nate meet?”
Nate. She missed him already. What a cruel irony that her first trip to Europe had to be with a snake like Frank. “We met at a bookstore in Greenwich Village. How about you?”
“Oh, well I met him the same night I met you. At the Carlton.” He chuckled at his own joke.
Paige rolled her eyes. She wasn’t that delirious. “How did you meet Ginny, Frank?”
“Oh! That…”
Evidently, he thought he was being charming. She saw through him so easily and wondered how it was so many people couldn’t.
“Believe it or not, our parents knew each other.”
That explained it. “An arranged marriage? I thought they outlawed those a long time ago.” He wore that same condescending smile of indulgence that Ginny had worn the night she’d met them.
“Well, not exactly arranged, but something along those lines.”
Paige comforted herself with the secret knowledge of his son’s late night activities and decided to entertain herself by asking him direct questions that she already knew the answers to. “So, do you have kids?”
Frank shifted in his seat and hesitated to the point of discomfort. “We have a son.”
He didn’t offer anything more. “Does he have a name?”
“Brendan.” He said the name as if it tasted bad. Suddenly she felt even more sorry for poor Brendan.
“How old is he?” The plane took a sudden dip and Paige clutched the arms of her seat.
“Relax, Paige. That happens. Don’t tell me you’ve never flown before either?”
“I’ve flown. Twice. The last time I think I was about five, and as far as I can remember, the planes never did this.”
Frank shook his head. “Amazing. How ever did you survive such a sheltered life? I’ve always loved traveling. I find it exhilarating to see new places and do new things. Anyway, try to relax–this kind of thing happens all the time. There are pockets in the air at this altitude. The pilots don’t always know when they’re going to hit one and they have to make a small adjustment, that’s all. It feels scary, but it’s fine, really. No worse than the subway.”
“How long has it been since you’ve been on a subway?”
Again he laughed out loud. It wasn’t that funny. The plane kept on jumping until the captain came over the PA system, apologizing for the rough weather. No worse than the subway…no worse than the subway…She sipped her bitters and tried to keep talking. Talking was good. It helped.
“So, how old did you say he was?”
“Who?”
“Your son.”
“I didn’t, but–he’s a teenager. Still in high school. Getting ready to graduate, actually.”
It occurred to Paige that maybe he didn’t know. “What’s he into? I mean, what does he like to do? Sports? Cars? Girls?”
Frank looked like he was trying to remember the last interaction he’d had with the boy. “Photography!” His relief was so sudden and so obvious it somehow stung by association. One son didn’t seem like all that much to keep track of. She tried to imagine what it must be like to be raised by Frank and Ginny. Every family had its challenges.
Her own father was a blue-collar man who worked his way up to middle management right around her sixteenth birthday. His big promotion came with a new office and a cute young secretary and that was the end of his marriage. By the time the divorce was final Paige had turned eighteen, so child support was no longer an issue. Her mother took a secretarial job and Paige paid for school on her own. Remarried now, he’d built a second family and they didn’t keep in touch.
When the worst of the rough air was over, Frank settled back into his chair and started rattling off details. “The kid’s real creative. He’s into graphic design, photography, that kind of thing.”
“You mean Brendan?”
Frank just kept going as if he was rehearsing a monologue and he had to get the words out in the right order.
“It’s just a hobby, of course, but we’re indulging it for now. Set him up with a top of the line computer and a new camera.”
“Is he any good?”
Frank ignored her question. “He’ll start Wharton in the fall.”
“U Penn? That’s a tough school.”
“He’s a smart kid.” At least Frank knew that much.
“An artist who wants to go into business? Are you sure you’re talking about the same person? That sounds more like two different people.”
Frank looked annoyed. “Photography is a hobby. Not a caree
r.”
“But graphic design is a great career! It’s what Nate does and he’s very good at it.”
“Nate is a businessman.” Frank disagreed. “His business may be to provide creative services to his clients, but he’s running a business, not a photography studio.”
“I’m just saying, there’s no reason he couldn’t do both.”
“Once he graduates Wharton, he won’t need anything else.”
“Ok but–new computers, top of the line photography equipment…all for a hobby?”
“Nothing but the best.” Frank lifted his drink in a mock salute to himself and took a long draught, nearly draining the glass. Kelly was right there to freshen it up.
When the two of them entered into another hushed, semi-private conversation, Paige took the opportunity to close her fan-shaped partition and escape into the darkness of the complimentary sleep mask. At least Frank would stop talking to her if he thought she was napping.
Insomnia was a mysterious bedfellow. It came and it went on its very own whim. Apparently, sitting next to Frank Evans on an airplane headed for Switzerland was an invitation it couldn’t pass up. By the time they landed in London her legs were protesting the hike through terminal number four and were definitely not happy with her choice of heels.
Frank, on the other hand, had slept like a baby. A big, snoring baby. He trotted his way through Heathrow in an annoyingly cheerful disposition that made her want to club him with one of her heels. He guided her out past security and down a hallway until they came to The Holideck Lounge. “This is us.”
“What’s this?”
“A place for us to relax until our next flight.” He opened the door and made a sweeping motion with his arm, as if he were king and his palace was before them. “Make yourself at home. All the food and all the drinks are complimentary.”
“Country club living in the middle of an airport. Who knew?”
Frank smiled. “There are three levels. This main level here caters to families with children, but we’re heading upstairs.”
Paige’s breath caught in her throat. “We are?”
“The second floor has a sports bar. It’s a little quieter up there. Sixteen and over.”
“Ah.” She followed him over to an elevator, rolling her laptop briefcase behind her.
The Upper Deck was appropriately Spartan for a sports lounge, with a u-shaped bar framed in light-colored wood circled by a contrasting strip of dark laminate flooring. Simple metal barstools curved up into a short lip on the backside, much like an English saddle. The fronts cascaded down into a straight waterfall of metal that stopped about mid-calf. It was all vaguely reminiscent of a racetrack.
“Where would you like to sit?”
Paige shook her head and blinked, somehow mesmerized by the fact that the bar stools looked strangely upside down. She tilted her head slightly, distracted by trying to imagine them with the metal waterfall as the back. “I–I don’t care. Where ever you want.”
“These look a little more comfortable than the bar. Shall we?”
He directed her to a large common area with a comical selection of blue modular chairs and strange, three-legged seating pods. “Hey Frank–I’ll give you ten bucks if you sit in one of those red potato chip chairs.”
Frank stared at her. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’ll be fine. I just need some coffee.”
“Good luck.”
She gave him a quizzical look. “Excuse me?”
“You’re in England, darling. Trust me, you’re better off with tea.”
Regardless of the time difference, Nate made her promise to text him when they landed in London. His reply was nearly immediate. She sipped a cup of Earl Gray and started reading a copy of The Times that was left neatly folded on a table nearby.
Unfortunately, Frank’s foray into the ridiculous with Kelly the stewardess didn’t end on the plane. She entered the Upper Deck just a few minutes after they did, presumably to meet up with Frank. They sat sequestered in a dark corner of the lounge while Frank kept the drinks coming. The annoying shrill of Kelly’s laughter fetched a bonus round of scolding stares from the bar’s decidedly British patronage.
Paige read the same paragraph three different times before moving to the other side of the room, trying desperately to dissociate with the strident Americans who obviously couldn’t hold their liquor. A quiet room off to the side, appropriately titled “The Haven” offered further separation and Paige promptly fell asleep in one of the chairs.
She woke to the gentle jiggling of Kelly’s hand on her shoulder and her sing-song voice in her ear. “Time to wake up, sleepy head.”
Paige blinked slowly. “How long was I out?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s time for your connecting flight.”
“Where’s Frank?”
“He’s in the loo.” She leaned over and whispered loudly “That’s what the Brits call the bathroom!” The stench of decaying alcohol coming off her breath was ironically sobering. Paige sat up and gathered her wits as well as her bags.
“I’ve heard the term, thanks.”
Kelly and Frank’s goodbye included several noisy kisses and a promise from her end to try to get on a flight to Bern some time within the week.
Flying over the Swiss Alps was like landing in the middle of a fairy tale. No postcard or photo book could have adequately conveyed the regal air that rolled over the peaks and valleys. The idea of life outside the five boroughs had never really excited her, and yet here was an entire world opening up before her eyes, and it was breathtaking and awe-inspiring. She felt suddenly foolish, and very immature.
Stepping out of the airport terminal and into the open skies of Bern was like being thrown from a slingshot and landing quite safely in another world entirely. The air was crisp and clean smelling and she took a second big whiff just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. No raw sewage. No fires. No curbside hot dog vendors and no carbon monoxide-laced exhaust.
“Do you smell that?”
Frank sniffed the air. “Smell what?”
“Exactly!”
Frank smirked and ducked his head into the limo. “C’mon. Let’s get you to the hotel and get some food in you.”
Her suite at the Bellevue Palace was a graciously appointed, two-room affair with a generous bed and a huge bathroom that boasted a soaking tub as well as a walk-in shower. A large wooden desk sat under the window, which offered a magnificent view of both the Parliament building and the river Aare. The table held a vase with ten pink roses and a card that read:
“One for each day you’ll be away. Hope I won’t need to send more. All my love, Nate.”
She fell headlong onto the bed, exhausted and spent, and started to cry.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Maybe you’re perfect right now.
Maybe you don’t wanna ruin that.
I think that’s a super philosophy, Will.
That way you can go through your entire life
without ever having to really know anybody.”
-Good Will Hunting
Classes were long over for the day when Sarah walked out of her tutoring appointment. She found Brendan sitting on the steps outside the school. “What’s with the camera?”
Brendan looked up from the shot he was trying to focus on. “Nothin’. Just messin’ around.”
“Is that new?”
He nodded. “I got it for my birthday.”
“Congratulations.”
He gave her a quizzical look.
“On your birthday.” She explained. “Eighteen, right?”
“Yeah.”
She was dressed in a waist-length brown jacket and jeans, with a tie-dye camisole underneath, and she’d added a red streak along one side of her hair.
“You look different every time I see you.”
“You too.” Sarah smiled. “What happened to the eagle shirt? Did the laundry police finally confiscate it?”
“Haha.”
&
nbsp; She squinted against the sunlight. “What are you taking pictures of?”
“Nothing in particular. Pain. Emptiness. That kind of thing.”
“Sounds great.” Sarah rolled her eyes.
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
He put his face back into the viewfinder and worked to focus the lens. His response was barely audible. “No thanks.”
Sarah stood abruptly and started to walk away.
“Hey! Wait.”
She turned around and waited for him to gather up his stuff and walk over. “Why do you have to be such a jerk? I’m just trying to be nice.”
Brendan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t get it.”
“What’s there to get? What’s so terrible about being nice?”
“Nothing! I just–I don’t know.”
“I don’t want anything from you, you know. I just–thought maybe we could be friends.”
Brendan looked everywhere except her face. “Don’t you have enough friends?”
Sarah thought about Jillian and Marcus and a few of the others. They were all different races and colors and even cultures, and yet they were all somehow so… homogenized. It was too hard to explain.
“Isn’t that what people do? They meet each other, they share some food or some coffee or something, and they get to know each other. I’m not interested in you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just thought we could hang out a little–maybe.” She knew she was just making it worse, and her face turned bright red. “Look, I’m sorry to have bothered you. This was probably a really bad idea.” She turned around again and kept walking.
Safely around the corner and down the block, she ducked into the nearest Starbucks and ordered a coffee, sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner. Running away from him was beginning to be a habit. She opened her biology book and started reading, but the words on the page ran together as her eyes filled up with tears that she willed to stay put. This is ridiculous Sarah! What are you trying to accomplish with this guy? She dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her temples, then leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to forget, trying to pray, trying to do anything but feel so incredibly confused and stupid and unsure of herself.
Letters From The Ledge Page 10