I look at my phone and grimace. “It’s my mom. I’m going to take this outside if that’s okay.”
She nods her head, still looking at Brian. I go outside for a couple minutes, holding my phone to my ear. When I come back inside, I chew on the side of my mouth to keep from grinning when I see them. Brian is now in my seat, and they’re both smiling as they talk.
“Hey.” I hold my phone up. “That was my mom. She’s acting crazy. I think I should go check on her.”
“Absolutely. You should go.” Christine starts to stand.
I put my hands out. “Please, stay. You wanted to try this place.”
“I was going to eat by myself. We can eat together if you’d like.”
She starts to shake her head, but I jump in. “Yeah. Eat with Brian, and tomorrow at lunch, tell me if it was any good. Deal?”
She looks at me, then at Brian, then back at me. “Okay. I mean if you’re sure it’s okay with you?” she asks Brian.
He smiles. “Yeah, and this way you can finish telling me that story you started.”
I look at both of them. “So we’re good? I’m going to take off.”
They both nod, and I leave, heading to my mom’s so it feels less like a lie. I stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things for her on the way. She hasn’t left the house since my dad passed, wouldn’t even go to the funeral. There are bags of trash waiting for me in the foyer. I get the groceries inside before I take them out to the containers on the side of the house. What would she do if I didn’t stop by: starve or get buried under garbage?
“Mom!” I call out.
No response. It doesn’t surprise me. After Bethany died, she barely spoke to me. I put the groceries away, then head upstairs to look for her. She’s sitting on Bethany’s bed, brushing the hair of one of her dolls. She’s in her robe, and it doesn’t even look like she brushed her own hair today. It kills me to see her like this. It’s like when Bethany died all over again, only worse.
I lean on the door frame. “Hey, mom.”
No response.
“Mom, why don’t you put the doll down. Let’s go downstairs,” I say gently.
Nothing.
Ever since my sister died, I’ve always felt uncomfortable in her room. I step inside and walk over to my mom, reaching out to touch her shoulder. It takes her a minute before she looks up.
I hold out my hand for her. “Let’s go down stairs. I’ll make you something to eat.”
She sets down the doll and brush and takes my hand. I close the door behind me once we’re out of the room. I’m not much of a cook. I make her some soup and a sandwich for myself. I watch her as she eats it. After only finishing a quarter of it, she gets up and leaves.
I follow her. “Mom, are you done with your soup? There’s still a lot left.”
She nods and heads upstairs to her room, shutting the door behind her. I know what she’s doing up there. She’s setting my dad’s alarm clock for the time he used to get up to go to work. I once read that Queen Victoria had Prince Albert’s clothes laid out every morning after he died for forty years. People think it’s romantic. It’s not. It’s not accepting reality and moving on.
I’m one to talk. It’s been over five years since Sarah left, and she’s as present in my thoughts as if it were yesterday. I glance back up at my mom’s room. I’m not sure what to do for her.
Talking to her about seeing a therapist is like talking to a brick wall. She just shuts down. I don’t want to, but I might have to move back home for a while so I can keep an eye on her.
I look up at the sound of someone knocking on my classroom door and smile when I see Christine. I set the pencil sketch I was grading down. “Hey, stranger.”
It’s been a week since we’ve had lunch together. She’s been up to her eyeballs with wedding planning stuff. Brian pops his head around her, and I admit it. I’m confused. “Hey, man.” They’re both smiling so I think everything’s okay. Christine popping by my classroom after school is not unheard of. Brian dropping by is less common. He isn’t usually off of work until seven. Mr. Big, Bad Lawyer.
I look between them. “What’s going on?”
They walk in holding hands, and I can tell they’re up to something.
Christine glances over at Brian before starting. “We wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner with us tonight.”
My eyes flick back and forth between them. “Why does this feel so formal? You could have just texted me.”
Brian shrugs. “We dropped Christine’s car off at the mechanic’s this morning, so I left work early to pick her up. We figured we’d pop in on you since I’m here and try and get your sorry ass to have dinner with us.”
It’s come to this. It’s a not so subtle search and rescue mission. Sure, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out. I stop to think about it. When was the last time I went out? Six, seven months ago? I think it was sometime in the fall, and here we are, early spring.
“I need to swing past the house first. Get my mom settled.”
“How about we follow you?” Brian shrugs.
He thinks he’s slick. I can tell he thinks I’ll bail once I get home. Truth is, I can use a night off from my mom. “Sounds good. Any place in particular you want to go?”
I flick off my desk lamp and stand while Christine and Brian bat restaurant options back and forth, finally agreeing on Indian and looking at me for my okay.
“I can go for some curry.” My mom doesn’t like Indian food so it’ll be nice to have a change of pace.
I lock up, and the three of us walk out together. It’s never stopped feeling surreal that I teach at the same place I went to middle school. These halls hold many memories, mostly good but not all. Brian’s parked next to my Jetta, and true to his word, they follow me back to my mom’s place. I’d finally sold my condo and moved back in with my mom.
Even though my sister, Bethany, died almost twenty years ago, her room was still exactly as it had been the day she died. It had taken my mom time, but with the exception of Bethany’s room, my mom started functioning again: going to work, trying to be aware of my comings and goings. Since my dad died, we’d gone back to square one, and she doesn’t seem to have any interest in functioning again. She’ll shower and dress herself almost every day, but she refuses to leave the house. I know it’s not healthy, and I get that I probably need to do something to push her. I’m just not sure what.
About three months ago, I brought seeing a therapist up to her. No reaction, positive or negative. Should have took it as my cue to go ahead and do it but I got caught up with work and pushed it to the back burner. A lot of good that did me, here we are three months later and I’m still dealing with it.
I hop out of my car and walk over to Brian’s. He rolls down the window as I approach. “I’m just going to run in and make her a frozen dinner. Should be like five minutes. Did you two want to wait here or come inside?”
Brian glances at Christine. “We’ll just hang out here.”
I’m not surprised. My mom can be creepy. My house can be creepy. It feels like time has stood still in it. All through school, I wanted to be anywhere else, eventually finding a safe haven in Sarah and Brian’s house. It had always been so warm and inviting over there in comparison.
I go into the kitchen, and my mom barely acknowledges my presence as I zap dinner for her. I lock up after myself and get back in my car to follow them to the restaurant. Once we’re seated, Christine produces an envelope from her purse and passes it over to me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
Brian slips his arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you open it and see?”
“My birthday was in December,” I joke, breaking the back seal of the card.
They both watch me as I slide the card out. It doesn’t take me long to figure out it’s their wedding invitation. I hold it up, my inner art teacher evaluating the font and coloring. “These turned out really nice.”
Our waiter stops by to take our d
rink orders and drops off some naan. Once he’s gone, I decide to tease them, I flip the envelope over and hold it up. “What? No stamp?”
Christine shakes her head while Brian grins. “You’re getting dinner, dumbass. That trumps a stupid stamp.”
I shrug. “It’d be nice to get something other than bills in the mail.”
“Sorry, man. You’re just going to have to live with it.” He laughs.
The waiter drops off our drinks and takes our orders.
Brian squeezes Christine’s shoulder and rubs his jaw with his other hand. “So I have something important to ask you.”
I nod.
“You and I go way back. I not only consider you a brother, but you also introduced me to the love of my life.” When he says that part, Christine sighs and reaches her hand up to grasp his. They are so in love it’s hard not to be happy for them. It’s also hard not to find the whole thing personally depressing. Brian keeps going. “Here’s the thing, man. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want standing there with me. Be my best man?”
I’m stunned. I look back and forth between them as Brian and I stand to hug. “Hell, yeah, I’ll be your best man.”
People around us are watching and laughing, Christine included.
I feel honored, but this also means there’s no way I’m getting out of going to the wedding. Not that I’d want to. It’s just that part of me isn’t sure what seeing Sarah will be like after all these years. Who knows? She may not even come.
“What time does her flight land?” I have my shoulder popped up, holding my phone to my ear as I shuffle my bags into one hand.
“Hi. Long time, man. Oh, I’m good. Thanks for asking. And Christine? She’s awesome too. So cool of you to ask.” There’s more than a hint of sarcasm in Brian’s voice.
My now free hand reaches up to grasp my phone. I clear my throat. “So when does her flight land?”
He groans. “Will, I don’t know. I know she isn’t flying in from Denver, and she told mom she’d just get a cab.”
“A cab? Really?” I get to my gate and sit. A loud announcement blares overhead.
“Are you at the airport?” Brian asks. He must have heard the background noise.
I glance around, watching people hurry to and from the gates around me. “Yep. I’m heading to Montpelier for—”
He cuts me off. “That thing for your picture. I totally forgot that was this weekend. Christine told me you won. So what’s the prize?”
“It’s no big deal. Five grand. I’m donating it to the school.” I scratch the back of my neck. God, I need a haircut. Got to remember to get one before the rehearsal dinner.
“What?” He grumbles. “The school? You should’ve put it toward another weekend in Atlantic City.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna pass on that. No desire to watch you projectile vomit again,” I say, shaking my head.
There’s silence. “That was a great weekend.”
I laugh. “What I remember of it anyway. So back to Sarah. You really don’t know when she’s landing?”
“Hang on a sec.” I hear a muffled sound as he sets the phone down or puts his hand over it. “Sorry. Christine walked in. She says hi. Can I call you back later?”
“Sure. Tell her hi for me too,” I say before hanging up.
I pull the corner of my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down as I dig through my bag of takeout. An egg sandwich and a hash brown, the breakfast of champions. I should’ve called Mrs. Miller. She probably would have known when Sarah is landing. I glance at my watch and decide I’ll let it go. I don’t like the idea of her getting a cab. Why doesn’t she want someone to pick her up? She’s so stubborn sometimes. God, I miss her.
I eat my breakfast and throw the wrappers and bag away before I board. There’s a guy in a suit seated next to me. I have the window. It’s an early flight. As soon as we’re in the air, I fall asleep. When we land, I call home to let my mom know I got here okay. I know she won’t answer. She barely talks to anyone but me, and she ignores the phone when it rings. She’ll listen to the answering machine, though.
“Mom, I’m in Vermont. I’ll call again before I leave tomorrow.” I turn off my phone and look at it in my hand for a minute. I don’t know what to do about my mom. This whole situation is getting to be too much for me. Other than a weekend here and there, I can’t leave her alone.
My cab ride to the hotel is short. I’m checked in to my room in no time. The ceremony is this evening, in the hotel banquet room. I flop down onto the bed. Sarah Miller is coming home. I try to think of an excuse to be at her parents’ house tomorrow. I still don’t know why she left. One minute, everything was fine, more than fine, perfect. Then she was gone. Over the last seven years, I’ve tried to move on, to find someone else. Problem is, she’s it for me, and I have the next week to prove it to her.
I stand, walking over to my window. It’s clear and bright out. I grab my camera from my bag and walk around taking pictures of downtown. I pop into a deli for a bite before heading back to the hotel. I packed a suit for the banquet. I shower and change before heading down. I find the organizer, and she walks me to my table.
“First time in Vermont?” she asks, smiling.
I have to think about it. I know my family vacationed in New Hampshire when I was a kid.
“I don’t think so.”
She gives me a long look, the kind of look with an invitation attached.
“That’s a pity. Vermont can be extremely welcoming.” She smiles again, putting her hand on my arm.
I nod. Not interested. I make a point to avoid her for the rest of the evening. The winning pictures are mounted and displayed around the room. There is more than one completion. My shot won the overall prize. It was a lucky shot. I keep my camera close most days. I had been leaving work and noticed a little girl had fallen off of her bike. I was walking over to help but someone beat me to it. I still had my camera bag over my shoulder, and there was something magic in the way that little boy helped her up. A glimpse at our humanity.
It was Christine who’d heard about the contest and told me to enter it. One day she’d come bursting into the teachers’ lounge with a print out of the contest. She’d started as a sub for a teacher on maternity leave. She was offered the job permanently when that teacher decided not to come back after her daughter was born. We’d eat lunch together most days. She was so excited I entered. I honestly didn’t think anything would come from it and was shocked when I got the letter telling me I had won. I live within my means so it wasn’t like I needed the money. I teach art, and given all the budget cuts in recent years, this donation would help the kids have some newer materials and mediums to work with over the next year. There’s only so far you can go with tempera paint.
It sucks that the ceremony is so close to the wedding. At least school is out. I just want more time to figure out what to say and do once Sarah is back. I only have a week to figure out what happened and what I need to do to fix it. As far as I know, she isn’t dating anyone. Brian and Christine both promised she isn’t bringing a plus one. My attention is pulled to the podium when my name is called. I stand, buttoning my suit jacket, and make my way up front. My speech boils down to a heartfelt thank you, and I’m presented with a fake, giant check.
On my way back to my seat, I’m stopped by the organizer. Trish, I think is her name. She gives me the actual prize check, but lets me know I can keep the giant one if I want to. The kids might get a kick out of it, but I don’t want to deal with taking it on the plane. Someone else comes up to talk to me or her. It’s hard to tell, and I make my escape.
I head back to my room. My flight leaves early tomorrow. I don’t have a direct flight like I did today. I have to change planes in Newark. A perfect symphony of shit the next morning almost makes me miss my connection. I’m one of the last people to board in Newark. After the attendant finishes up her flight speech, I pull out a book. The turn off electronics light comes on, and I watch the people with tablets and er
eaders groan as they turn them off around me. Score one for old school, I think to myself, turning a page. I’m a couple of pages in when I get the feeling someone is watching me. I glance back out of curiosity, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m imagining things.
Is it really her?
I’m not sure if I trust my voice. Just be cool, man. “No way. Sarah. Sarah Miller?”
She nods. She’s smiling at me. I’m unbuckling my belt and asking to trade seats with the woman across the aisle from her before I know what I’m doing. The guy on the other side of her offers to get up as well so we can sit right next to each other. After I sit, she leans towards me to put her purse under the seat in front of her. My teeth clamp down on the corner of my lip. A lock of her hair falls forward. Her hand moves to tuck it behind her ear, but I beat her. I swear her eyes dilate when my fingertip grazes her earlobe.
She looks amazing. She’s morphed into my grown up fantasy. Part of me wants to pull her into my lap and kiss every inch of her, but I’m pretty sure that might get me kicked off the plane. I’m not sure what to say to her. I’m not sure if I even believe she’s here, on my plane. Stick to neutral stuff, I think before asking her how she’s been.
Her voice takes me back in time. I’m not sure what I’m going to have to do, but I will do whatever it takes to win her back. I try not to lose myself in her chocolate eyes. For someone who had such power over me, she never seemed like she knew it. We’re talking about work when she laughs. I love that sound. I used to pin her down and tickle her. Sure it was an excuse to touch her, but I loved the way she laughed. She could never hold back and giggle. She was always full powered.
I make the mistake of telling her, and she argues, bringing up the time she snorted root beer out of her nose. I can’t believe I’d forgotten about that. Her eyes widen as I laugh. That’s another thing I can’t remember: the last time I was as happy as I am now with her.
I ask her about her job, even though I already know. I’ve been pumping Brian for information for years. I don’t want to sound like some crazy stalker so I act like I don’t know. I just want her to keep talking. If she does, maybe she’ll remember how we were.
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