“Yes, me and my son Mattie.”
“The cottage holds many special memories for me. I haven’t been inside it for several years.” Thoughts of long afternoons, lying in bed with Henry, listening to the surf crash against the sand, made me wish I could turn back time to my college days. Life was simpler then.
“Are you heading out? I won’t keep you.” He started to move back toward the steps as I followed him.
“I was just going for a walk.”
“Would you like to see it…the cottage?”
“Really, I wouldn’t be intruding?” I could use some distant happy memories to replace the recent images engrained in my mind.
“No, not at all. We don’t get a lot of visitors. I’m new here.”
“Let me leave Kate a note. I’ll be right back.”
I scribbled my whereabouts on a pad resting on the foyer table, intentionally closing the door loudly to awaken her as we left.
“It’s just the two of you?” I asked.
“Two against the world.” He grinned nervously as we made our way down the path.
“I know exactly how that feels. My brother and I practically raised ourselves.”
“Did you live here?’ He motioned back toward the main house and seemed intrigued to get to the bottom of my past.
“I wish. This was my mom’s house. Cancer took her not long after my brother was born. My father kept us in New York after my nana died. I was forced to leave my Southern roots behind and live the life of a chameleon. We spent some wonderful summers here though. I counted the months, each year, until the last day of school. Tommy and I would have our bags packed and ready to go at the sound of the afternoon bell. I would get butterflies in my stomach as the car approached the tall gates. Driving under the canopy of trees to the main house felt like being transported to a new world- a happy one. We’d go room to room, taking the white sheets off the furniture. We had our silly rituals.”
“That sounds nice.”
I was lost in the past as we walked in comfortable silence. He inquired about the history of the house and the construction of the chapel, as we passed by the cemetery. I couldn’t look to my left, knowing that Connor was just over the tall cypress hedges.
Within a few minutes, we turned down the walk toward the cottage. Henry and I used to ride bikes from the main house to claim some hours of privacy, away from the visitors who had accompanied us from Harvard. We’d race. Somehow, I always seemed to win. The fix was in and I always claimed my prize.
“Does it look the same?” he asked.
The cottage stood in all its old glory; the keeper of many secrets. The white paint was peeling off the roughened corners, but it was still magnificent. The black hurricane shutters were still framing the windows, with the exception of the one at the end that had fallen and taken rest against the house.
“Remarkably, yes.”
“Come in and meet Mattie.”
“I’d like that.”
He held the door open, motioning me forward.
“Who is with Mattie?”
“A group of women from the church take turns sitting with him from time to time when I have to work or run errands.”
“How old is he?”
“He’s four. He doesn’t speak yet, but I’m hopeful.”
“Do you mind if I…?”
“He has autism. He doesn’t communicate with words yet, but I have faith that we’ll find the right key to unlock his world one of these days. There are some promising therapies that may prove beneficial. I’m trying to educate myself.”
Not much had changed in the house. The walls were still a casual whitewash. Most of the same furniture still remained. We stopped in the kitchen.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Sure.”
I sat down on a stool while he busied himself brewing the coffee. The volunteer from church came in to speak to him, trying to ascertain when she’d be needed next. They reviewed his schedule, he thanked her, and she left. Mattie was in the living room, sitting on the floor alone, gently rocking back and forth while the television played cartoons. He left me briefly to hug his son, but he didn’t respond. Gabe looked sad, but quickly recovered and entered the kitchen composed.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Please.”
He poured coffee into the mugs and handed me the one that read ‘World’s Best Father.’
“Where’s his mom? Oh, sorry, that’s none of my business- it’s too personal. Really, I’m not fit for public company yet.”
“It’s okay. I don’t have any secrets. Oddly enough, it makes it more real to talk about it, you know? She left a year ago when it became clear that something was challenging our son. She couldn’t accept him like this. She wasn’t prepared for how she viewed him- as imperfect.”
“His own mom?”
“Don’t judge her too harshly. I’ve learned to accept her decision and just be thankful that she gave birth to such an extraordinary boy. Mattie is amazing. She’s the one missing out,” he replied, looking toward Mattie with love.
“How can you be so forgiving?” My face couldn’t hide the contempt I felt for a woman I had never met. I would have done anything to have my child with me and here she is, throwing her baby away, because he wasn’t perfect in her eyes. What a monster. I looked down at the half empty mug trying to compose myself. I felt bad for putting him on the defensive.
“Don’t misunderstand; I wasn’t always in this headspace. I was mad as hell a year ago, but I learned some very important truths about suffering.”
“Go on…” I was anxious to get a grasp on that teaching, considering this eternal state of being utterly pissed off with most everyone and everything.
“Suffering and punishment don’t necessarily go hand in hand. They’re not mutually exclusive. That mentality is a crock of shit; excuse my language.”
“What do you mean?”
“God is a loving God. He doesn’t look down one morning and decide to afflict a child with a disease, or in your case, take your son from you. It’s really kind of arrogant and self-centered to think that He derives satisfaction from our misery or has a need to stick it to us or teach us a lesson.”
“You’ve sure given this a lot of thought.”
“I was really angry at first, but what can you do with that emotion- it’s poison. It only harms you. My ex didn’t care that she was leaving me with a child. The world didn’t care that my son was sick. I didn’t see the point in being so pissed off after a month of feeling sorry for myself.”
“You don’t blame God- hold him accountable for your difficulties?”
“Man has some part in it- free will and all. We usually suffer because either we, or someone else, decided to exercise their free will to inflict pain or create disorder. And sometimes, shit happens-there’s absolutely no reason for it. Why are you so angry…unless you’d prefer not to discuss it?”
“I got my son killed.”
He felt uncomfortable with my answer and disengaged in the conversation. I needed to back-peddle.
“I’m sorry. That was too direct, wasn’t it? It’s just that we don’t know each other very well, yet, and it’s refreshing to speak openly about how I feel without having to edit. You don’t have any unrealistic expectations about my coping abilities since we’ve only just met. I can be mad at myself without you trying to convince me that someone else killed my son.”
“I read the article in the paper, Julia. You didn’t stab yourself.”
“No, but I put myself in the situation for that result to occur.”
“You can’t be responsible for that man’s choice to harm you. You’re the victim. It doesn’t matter where you were at the time. You couldn’t have made his choice for him.”
Memories flew back into my mind and I sat up straighter, taking a deep breath. I had to be responsible. The pain of that kept Connor present in my mind. Gabe could tell that I was upset by his comments. He shook his head, strugglin
g to find the right words to calm the conversation.
“I apologize. I’ve had a lot of time to think about why Mattie is trapped inside his body. My conclusions aren’t the gospel. They just help me sleep at night.”
“I don’t mean to sound bitter and hostile. I’m just really angry with God, much to the disappointment of my brother, the priest.”
“Oh well, he probably has much better theories than someone like me.”
“Not really, he’s never faced a crisis of faith. I’d rather hear your thoughts. Please. If you don’t, I’ll think it was because I was rude.”
“I just think that there is this great need to assign blame, in our society. I think that’s why my ex-wife struggled so much. She was convinced that it had to be something she did or didn’t do. I never thought that for a second, but I was unable to convince her. She blamed everything from having a glass of wine before she knew she was pregnant to an x-ray she had in her third trimester, after a slight fender-bender in the mall parking lot. Blame was so necessary to her that she never allowed herself to imagine that Mattie was truly perfect in his own way, and that furthermore, God thought that we were strong enough to raise him.”
“You obviously are. Look at you. A man raising his child alone with no challenges is commendable, but you’re doing it…”
“-With a lot of help. Don’t be fooled. My mother is the one who organized the church volunteers to sit with Mattie during my work shifts. She comes every other weekend and takes Mattie back to Tybee Island because she says that I need down time. Much to her dismay, I honestly just sit here and watch the clock until he returns Sunday evening.”
“Do you date?”
Gabe didn’t quite know how to deal with my straightforwardness. He shifted on his stool and blushed.
“Are you asking me out?”
“Heavens no- I mean, you’re a great looking guy and a family man, and trust me there’s nothing sexier than that, but I’m a mess. I should have little orange cones all around me with caution signs posted. I’m rambling.”
I took a big sip of my coffee. I could feel my cheeks flush. They must have been turning a bright shade of red.
“So you’re asking in a general sense?”
“Yes. Why don’t you date…allow yourself the possibility of happiness?”
“My life really isn’t conducive to dating.”
“Well that’s a cop out.”
“I can’t envision a woman getting a glimpse of my life with Mattie and being all in. His own mom bolted on us.”
“It has to be said, from someone much more emotionally immature than you; she’s a moron- a complete jackass, actually. Mothers don’t leave their children. Babies are precious. They’re a gift. You don’t toss the gift just because you don’t like the package it comes in. You’re too forgiving. There are a lot of women out there that would adore you and Mattie.”
Gabe smiled. He obviously wasn’t used to receiving compliments.
“Yeah…they’re beating down the door to get in.”
“First, you have to take the invisible go away sign off the door so they know they’re welcome.”
“Still, I don’t really have an opportunity to meet women.”
“I know one.”
I smirked and he caught on quickly.
“Not that gun happy crazy Brit? I have enough troubles.”
“Her name is Kate and she’s amazing- a little outspoken, but she’s British, what can you expect? They have a dry sense of humor. You get used to it.”
“She is pretty,” he thought aloud, “Why is she here?”
“Her brother and I…well, he and I are involved. It’s complicated. Kate and I are best friends. We all went to college together. She came in after the funeral and is staying here indefinitely, it looks like.”
“What occupation has that kind of flexibility?”
“She’s a writer- magazine articles mostly, but she’s been working on a book for awhile.”
“That’s interesting.”
“You’d be doing me a favor if you asked her out. She doesn’t know anyone around here either and I know that I’m boring her to tears. She’s rude. She’ll tell me eventually. I’d rather head that off at the pass.”
“Well…”
“She thinks you’re hot. She said that when we saw you down at the beach.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. I’ll even babysit Mattie. Why don’t you go tonight? Have some dinner?”
There was a knock at the front door. Gabe excused himself to answer it. I was perturbed that we were interrupted when I was on the crux of sealing the deal. He returned with Kate in tow.
“Look who’s here,” Gabe said fidgeting.
“How was your nap?”
“Uneventful. No crazy ex-husbands disturbing the peace.”
Mattie ran in to the room and stood by Gabe.
“This is Mattie.”
Kate knelt down, realizing that he wouldn’t respond and hugged him tightly.
“Hi Mattie, I’m Kate. I live next door in that big white house. You must come and have tea with me sometime.”
Mattie ran back to the living room and began lining up his trucks. She followed and sat down in front of him, mirroring his every move, car for car, until two lines were forming. I looked up at Gabe and smiled with that ‘told you so’ grin. Kate had just affirmed my earlier argument for dating. I motioned my head towards her, egging him on to be assertive. We walked over to join them. Gabe knelt down beside Mattie and looked up at Kate.
“Mattie has horse therapy at a nearby farm. We usually go for ice cream before he leaves with my mom for the weekend. Would you like to join us?”
Kate was trying to be calm, but she was visibly about to jump out of her skin.
“Love to go.”
Her smile made my heart happy. Maybe her joy would be contagious. She paused and turned her head back toward me, concerned to leave me alone.
“Do we have plans? Do you want to come?”
Gabe realized that she was trying to be inclusive.
“Of course, you’re welcome to come with us, Julia.”
“No. I have thank you notes to write. The sooner I start them, the sooner I’ll be done. Why doesn’t Gabe join us for card night?”
“What’s card night?” Gabe inquired.
“We try our hand at poker and blackjack; have some pizza and a few drinks. We’re not that good, but we enjoy playing.”
“That sounds like fun. Maybe once I get Mattie on his way.”
“Good. It’s settled. I’ll see you both back at the house around seven o’clock? I’ll order the pizzas.”
I said my goodbyes to Mattie and left, relishing in my match making abilities. On my way back to the house, I stopped at the gate to the cemetery. I still couldn’t go in, but I decided to sit awhile in the chapel and ponder Gabe’s opinions on suffering, before heading home.
After fifty notes of thanks, I ordered the pizzas and hopped in the shower. Kate and Gabe arrived a little after seven o’clock. I could tell that they had hit it off. She was laughing like a school girl and hanging on his every word. He was eating it up. He certainly wasn’t used to the attention. He and I were very similar. We were both suffering from a failure to thrive. No one had touched us in so long that we were wasting away. At least Gabe had a prospect. Good for him.
We finished eating and adjourned to the drawing room. Kate turned on music while Gabe shuffled the cards. I filled three baskets full of food. They would act as our poker chips. We took our seats. Let the games begin.
6
No one had noticed Henry walking through the front door. Gabe, Kate, and I were about to show our cards. We were playing the final hand. By this time, we were plastered. I had won Gabe’s tie and was wearing it around my face like a headband with it hanging down my cheek. Kate had swindled him out of his hat an hour ago and took to wearing it backwards. Gabe had won my pink kiss the cook apron which he wore proudly with the accompanying chef�
�s hat. Little did he know that we were strategically letting him win to give him a false sense of security. Kate and I were in our element. We were the Harvard card sharks. Many a monthly allotments from daddy had been lost to us during college.
I was sitting on a queen-nine. The pot was full of every delicacy stashed away by the caterers. I knew what I had to do. I was feeling lucky. I would bet my favorite Godiva chocolates against Kate’s caviar and Gabe’s Kobe steaks. They were going down.
The bets were placed and there was only one thing left to do. Kate knew she was beaten with sixteen. She graciously bowed out and threw her hand down in resigned defeat. -Gabe’s turn. He dazzled us with his saucy smile and then tossed his queen-eight into the center of the table.
“How do you like that, you vixens?” He began taking stock of his winnings- his hands rummaging through the pot.
Kate was amused. “I don’t know, Jewels, how do we like that?” She filled our shot glasses with tequila and slid one in front of me.
“I don’t know Kate. Usually, we like to lick it, slam it, and suck it, don’t we?” I slowly laid the queen down on the table as she dusted the side of our hands with salt. Gabe looked like a deer in the headlights.
I started to lay down my final card as Kate taunted him. “Wait for it… wait for it...” Gabe could barely contain his impatience.
The nine hit the table and our happy dance began. We made one full circle around the table hooting and hollering before stopping in front of our shots. We were a sight. In unison, we lifted the glasses and toasted our victory.
“God save the Queen,” I announced, in my best British accent, complete with a proper curtsy.
“God bless America,” Kate twanged in her best Southern belle impression.
We roared laughing as we licked the salt, slammed the drinks, and sucked the limes. Gabe looked oddly perplexed. I grabbed a beer off the table to chase the tequila.
“Don’t be a sorry sport. You’re just a loser.” I couldn’t contain my laughter, but quickly noticed that no one was joining in. Kate had that serious English look on her face like she was straining.
“What?” I inquired. Gabe cleared his throat and nodded his head toward the door- a clear signal that I was too drunk to pick up on.
The Battered Heiress Blues Page 7