by Lacy Hart
I realized the last time I was in here was when I came home to drop the bombshell news on my mother. I came to tell her I had passed the firefighter’s exam and had gotten a girl pregnant. It wasn’t at all what she had hoped to hear from me, and it was far from easy for me to lay all of that at her feet, but she took it all in stride. We didn’t even argue much about it, as she told me I was a man old enough to find my own path in life now. She was a little disappointed about the pregnancy since it was with a girl she didn’t know and one I barely knew, but the prospect of being a grandmother was appealing to her.
I am sure she had hoped that relationship would work out for me, but I guess neither one of us saw what was coming with all that. In the end, even though Brenda up and left me without warning with a two-month-old little girl, it was for the best. I got and still have Abby out of all of it, and Abby got my mother to be with and learn from over the years.
I pushed myself off the bed and decided to hang a couple of things in my closet. I grabbed a couple of my shirts and pairs of jeans and opened the closet door. Nothing was hanging in there at the moment, but the shelves were filled with some boxes. I saw in the corner of the shelf an old shoebox, the one I had always kept some mementos in during my younger days. I reached over and grabbed it off the shelf and opened it up.
There wasn’t much left inside there. There were a few medals I had won in high school as part of the wrestling team, a couple of flattened coins I had gotten from the train tracks in town, and my old learner’s permit from when I first learned how to drive. There were also a couple of pictures in the box. One was of Mom, Dad and I in front of the Christmas tree. I looked to be about seven or eight, and it was probably one of the few times all three of us were smiling at the same time. I was standing between Mom and Dad, and the three of us had our hands on the bike I had just gotten for Christmas. The bike served me well for years when I wanted to go anywhere with friends or just escape when Dad had wandered home drunk.
The other picture inside had me sit back down on the bed. It was a picture from my college years, one I had forgotten about. There I was, with my arm around Sophie, the both of us beaming with pride as we had just gotten back to Canon after our freshman year at school. The picture was taken outside the front steps of my Mom’s house.
I don’t know if I had forgotten just how beautiful she was, or if I tried to put it out of my memory because it was too painful for me, but seeing her in that picture brought it all flooding back. I put the pictures back in the box, closed the lid, and put the box on the dresser. I laid back on the bed, staring up at the white ceiling, seeing the same spots I had seen years before. I felt myself drifting off to sleep again, thinking about what the future might hold for me, for Abby, for us.
7
Sophie
I spent the entire rest of the evening feeling distracted. I couldn’t get the girl out of my mind – all through dessert, paying the check and leaving the Homestead. Even the ride home with Mary, who graciously offered to drive me the few blocks, so I didn’t have to walk back in the dark, was just a blur. I do remember her asking me why I was so distracted, but I can’t even recall what I said to her. I got out of the car and mindlessly walked into my house, putting myself in the rocking chair and gently rocking back and forth as I tried to figure it out.
While the girl had red hair, which was nothing like what Travis had or his mother or father had, there was no denying she had his eyes. As I looked at her, I could see features in her face that reminded me of him – the slope of her jaw, the pert nose she had, even the way she smiled – it all seemed to be like him. Maybe I just wanted to see it in her because I had been thinking about him so much lately, but it was more than that. The way she hugged Maggie and put her arm around her, there was definite familiarity there. While I couldn’t be sure, I had to assume they were related in some way. Travis had no siblings, so it wasn’t a niece of his. Perhaps a relative I didn’t know about?
I must have sat in that chair for hours trying to figure it out. I even pulled out old photo albums, ones my mother had saved from when I was younger, and pictures I had from college. It had been a long time since I had looked at those pictures, mainly because it was painful for me to look at them. When I see them I am reminded of how happy we were, how much in love I was with him and how much he cared for me, and how it all came crashing down so suddenly and then he was gone from my life. There were pictures of us at parties, hanging out with friends, and even pictures of us when we came back to Canon after that first year. When I compared them to what I saw tonight, it was hard to believe that she couldn’t be his daughter.
I scanned back to pictures of when I was young. Travis and I knew each other all through school; it is a very small town after all. We were friends when we were younger, but we didn’t hang out much. He was into sports and had his friends, I was into studying and clubs and had mine. We didn’t even date in the same circles, and I had no idea how he felt about me until we met up at college. At first, we clung to each other more because we were the only people we knew so far away from home, but over time, as we became better friends, it turned into something more. Then there was that party we went to one weekend where Travis had a bit more to drink than he probably should have and told me that he had always felt something for me, all through high school, but he never worked up the nerve to say anything to me. I was stunned when he told me. I figured this big, strong guy in high school was not going to even take notice of a bookworm like me. I wasn’t mousy, but I kept to myself, much like I do now. I didn’t go out much even with friends and dated even less. My mother was the proverbial double-edged sword with me – she wanted me to go out and meet people, but she kept telling me how important it was that I take care of myself and not get swept off my feet by some guy who just wanted to have sex with me. I took all that heart, which is partly why I was still a virgin at thirty-two.
It's not that I didn’t ever want to have sex. There were many times with Travis where we came achingly close. More than once we were fooling around in the back of his car or in his dorm room when his roommate wasn’t around. I can remember getting all hot and bothered, kissing him deeply, feeling his hands on me, touching me intimately over and under my clothes. When it came down to actually making love with him, I just felt I wasn’t ready for it. I knew I loved him, but something always held me back from giving myself over. Travis, as frustrated as he would get at times, was always respectful and never pushed himself on me, which I think made me love him even more then and now.
I knew I was not going to be able to let this go. Even as I got myself ready for bed, putting on my ratty old gray t-shirt and gray cotton sleep shorts, I was trying to decide what to do. I could go over to Maggie’s house in the morning, see who is there, and just find out for myself. As good as that sounded, I was too afraid for an abrupt run-in with Travis. What if he was there with his daughter and… his wife? Clearly, if there was a daughter, he was married. Travis was nothing if not loyal and dedicated, and I could not deal with the immediate feelings that would cause for me.
It was then I got a better idea. The Homestead was always open for lunch, and Maggie was always there at lunchtime, either at the hostess podium or working the dining room and getting things ready for the dinner crowd. The place wasn’t nearly as busy for lunch as dinner since more people were at work, and maybe I could get some time to talk to her, get some information, and see what was going on.
I snuggled back into my pillow feeling proud of myself for coming up with that idea. I tried to close my eyes and get right to sleep, but the nervousness and excitement that filled me were probably a bit more than I could bear. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for or how I would handle what I learned, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a warmness in my heart that made me genuinely happy.
8
Sophie
Morning came faster than I thought it would, and while my body felt tired because I spent most of the night wondering how the meeting with
Maggie would go, I had the energy to get moving. It was actually later than I had slept in a while since I had been getting up early, prepping myself for the school day mornings that were not far off, and going into my classroom to get everything ready for the new year. Luckily, I didn’t actually have to be there on these days; it was more of a voluntary thing to help me get ahead. The extra time allowed me to spend more time than I might usually have spent getting myself ready for the day. I found myself staring at my closet, trying to pick out my prettiest dress, and I was kind of disappointed by what I saw there. It was then I realized that I hadn’t done much pampering of myself in a long while and my wardrobe showed it. Everything looked just like you would expect an eighth-grade schoolteacher to dress – conservative, bland, without much flair and color. I was starting to see more of why people thought I was a spinster. All I needed was three or four cats roaming around, and I was all set.
I finally found something pushed to the far side of my closet that I thought looked breezy and perfect for summer. It was a casual tank dress, sleeveless, and a light yellow. It was knee-length and flared out a bit to make the dress look light and feel comfortable. I had bought the dress about a year ago at Simmons, our local clothing store, but I hadn’t worn it since then.
Now is as good a time as any, Sophie, I told myself and laid the dress on the bed.
I took a long, leisurely, hot shower, and after wrapping a fluffy, white towel around myself, I walked over to the mirror over my vanity and took a look at myself. I thought about putting some makeup on, but I rarely wore any and I opted to skip it. I did blow-dry my hair, however, something I rarely did except on cold mornings before school. Drying and brushing out my hair took a bit longer than I thought it would, and I realized my hair had gotten quite a bit longer since the last time I got it cut. I would usually go and get it done right before school started, and had to remember to do that. Today, however, I was putting the school out of my head.
I slipped into my basic white cotton bra and panties and then pulled the dress on over my head. I looked over in the mirror and was very happy with how it looked on me. I actually felt good wearing it instead of my usual clothes, and I spun around a little in front of the mirror to make the dress twirl a bit as I smiled at my reflection. I put my watch on and realized it was almost 11:30, still a little early for lunch, but I wanted to get there and have time to talk to Maggie without fear of getting interrupted. I slipped into my slip-on sneakers and moved down the stairs. I picked up my purse, checked myself in the mirror one last time, and headed out the door.
It was already feeling warm out, not at all unusual for late August around here. The sun beat down brightly, and the neighborhood kids were all running around under a sprinkler two houses down from me. I thought about walking to The Homestead again, but then remembered I would have to walk by the house again. Something about doing that scared me off a bit, so I got my keys out and opted to go with the short drive instead.
I turned the air conditioning up as soon as I turned the car on to get it working as soon as possible. I knew it seemed silly to do that for just a few minutes I would be in the car, but I felt like between the heat and the bit of nervousness I felt that the last thing I wanted to be was a sweaty mess before I got there. I pulled out of my driveway and was on my way. I drove slowly past Travis’ father’s house as I went by, taking a quick glance at it to see if it was still intent on menacing me somehow. The house looked more rundown in the sunshine, like it had lacked love and attention for a long time. I eased my foot on the gas to speed past it a bit so I could put it out of my mind.
In no time at all, I was turning into the parking lot next to the restaurant. There were just a few cars in the lot, as I expected. I turned my car off and started to get out when I found myself struck with a thought.
What if Travis is in there?
I’m not sure why I hadn’t considered that a possibility before, but it certainly could happen. That knot in my stomach started to tighten more, and I could feel myself gripping the door handle but not opening it. The thought that Travis could be in there, having a happy lunch with his wife and daughter, laughing and smiling, was gutwrenching, to say the least. I could just as easily turn the car back on and go home, forget about all of this, and go on with my life.
Sure you can, the voice in my head said to me. While you’re at it, drive over to the animal shelter and pick up your cats, because that is where you are headed.
I exhaled deeply, opened the car door, and got out. I could feel my legs shaking a little as I took the short walk through the parking lot and onto the sidewalk before I reached the front door of the restaurant. I peered in through the glass briefly and didn’t see Maggie at the podium. She wouldn’t not be here for lunch; that wasn’t her.
Of course, she might not be here. Her granddaughter, son, and daughter-in-law are in town, and she wants to spend time with them. Get back in the car; your cats are waiting for you.
“No!” I said out loud, startling the two older women walking past me on the sidewalk. I blushed as they went by me. I was sure they would be telling everyone they knew how the school’s eighth-grade spinster English teacher is now talking to herself as well.
My sudden burst of bravery got the better of me, and I pulled the glass door open and walked inside. The blast of cool air from the air conditioning made goosebumps stand up all over my body, and I felt myself shiver. I peered past the podium and saw just one or two people seated in the restaurant eating or ordering lunch. One of the waitresses, a teenager with brown hair snapping gum in her teeth, who I did not recognize, walked over to me.
“Would you like a table?” she asked me, popping her gum.
“Um… I guess.. is Maggie here?” I asked her awkwardly.
“Oh yeah, she’s here. She’s behind the bar. The afternoon bartender called in sick, but I don’t think he’s sick. A little too much partying last night for him, if you know what I mean.” The girl winked at me and smiled. It was more information than I wanted.
“Yes,” I said to her, hoping to cut off the conversation. “I’ll … I’ll just go sit at the bar if that’s alright.”
“Sure,” she said to me, chomping on her gum again. “Suit yourself.” She turned and walked towards the kitchen as I made my way towards the bar.
To be honest, I don’t think I had ever sat at the bar here before. It’s not that I don’t drink, I just rarely have any alcohol. One bad experience in college with some tequila was more than I needed to set me straight. Now it was the very rare glass of wine, and that was about it.
I sat at a stool in the middle of the bar. I could feel the cold vinyl of the stool come right through the thin material of my dress, making me shiver once again. My feet didn’t reach the floor sitting here at the bar, and I suddenly felt like I was twelve years old and doing something I shouldn’t be doing. One other person was sitting at the bar, a few seats down from me. I recognized him as Fred Perkins, the owner of the dry cleaner shop down the street. He was a friendly man, always with a nice smile whether you saw him inside or outside the store. I wondered why he would be here early during the week instead of at his shop.
I found out shortly when I saw Maggie emerge from the door at the far end of the bar that led to a backroom. Fred perked up and beamed at her as she came in, blushing the same way I have seen many adolescent boys do in my classroom when the girl they like happens to walk by. Maggie stopped off for a moment to talk to Fred, leaning over the bar closely to him as she gently laughed and took his lunch order. She turned to the right and saw me sitting there, and a surprised look came over her face. She excused herself from Fred and made her way down to me.
“Sophie? I’m surprised to see you here so early. And sitting at the bar too. What’s up?”
“Oh, I just decided to skip the classroom today and treat myself to an early lunch,” I said to her, trying to sound casual.
“Good for you,” she said enthusiastically. She handed me a menu to look at. I
wasn’t really that hungry, especially with my stomach doing backflips with knots, but now that I had told her I was here for lunch, I needed to order something.
“I’ll have the Cobb salad, with the house dressing,” I said to her, picking the first thing I saw. I wasn’t even sure if I really liked Cobb salad, or exactly what was in it, but since today was a day of taking chances, I figured what the heck.
“Anything to drink?” she asked me. I thought about ordering a real drink, but my senses got the better of me.
“Just a lemonade,” I said to her, feeling a bit embarrassed. There was that adolescent feeling again!
“No problem honey,” she said to me. She stopped a few steps down the bar to pour a beer from the tap for Fred, and then went down and placed it in front of him, smiling (or was it flirting?) at him. She then turned to her register, entered what I assumed was my order, and disappeared into the backroom again.
I felt my legs swinging nervously, and I could feel myself spinning the stool lightly as I waited. The wait seemed endless to me, and the restaurant was almost unbearably quiet. I glanced up at the muted TV to see the sports news scrolling something about someone’s knee injury. Maggie came back out and brought Fred his lunch, a hamburger with fries, and slid the plate in from of him. Fred thanked her profusely as she then made her way down to me with my tall glass of lemonade.