Saying Good-bye to London

by Julie Burtinshaw

  Nate pointed at Sawyer. “Is she your girlfriend?” Carefully, he unlatched himself from his mother’s leg and took a tentative step forward. He squatted in front of the new arrival, his eyes fixed on the bright purple toenail that protruded from a gaping hole in Sawyer’s striped sock. He gazed up at her with enormous brown eyes. “If you and Francis are in love, does that mean you kiss?”

  “Do you kiss?” Devon mimicked, sidling up beside his brother. They both puckered up their lips.

  Francis looked at his mom, his eyes pleading.

  She shrugged. “It’s a valid question, honey. I’m quite grateful to them for asking it.”

  “Shut up, you two,” he cautioned the twins, his face a deep red. “Stop being rude, or you’re going to be in big trouble.”

  The boys collapsed onto the floor in a puddle of giggles.

  Sawyer, unfazed, crouched down to their level. “God, how do you tell them apart? I’ll kiss you if you’re not careful.” She made a grab for the boys’ plump legs. They got up and ran screaming and laughing down the hall.

  “Yuck! Girl germs!” they called out. “Girl germs!”

  Sawyer made to go after them, but Francis held her back. “You’ll just encourage them,” he cautioned. “Then they’ll be crazier than usual.”

  “I’m coming for you,” Sawyer shouted after them, ignoring him. “At some point.”

  “Oh, very effective.” His mom laughed. “I think they like you, Sawyer. Anyway, welcome to our chaos. Make yourself at home, and”—turning to Francis—“I assume you’ll visit on the main floor. No going upstairs.” She gave him a warning look, not lost on Sawyer.

  “Don’t worry,” Sawyer said, turning to her with mock seriousness. “We’re not likely to sneak up to Francis’s bedroom for a quick make-out session. I want to impress you on our first meeting, not get kicked out of your house!”

  Francis’s cheeks burned. “She thinks she’s funny.” He glared at Sawyer. “She’s not. Come on. We’ll grab something to eat, then take Ralph for a”—he lowered his voice to a whisper—“w-a-l-k.”

  “Who’s Ralph?” Sawyer said and looked around suspiciously. “Another gorgeous brother? Why does he need a walk?”

  “Oh no,” Francis’s mother groaned. “Now you’ve done it. We don’t say that word out loud in our house.”

  “Walk?” Sawyer looked puzzled.

  “Shhh,” Francis warned.

  “Too late,” his mom said with a sigh. “Here he comes.”

  A loud bark emanated from deep inside the house, followed by excited yips. Then a huge yellow Lab skated around the corner, slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor. The dog skidded to a messy stop at Sawyer’s feet. He pushed his nose into her hand. “Woof, woof, woof.”

  “You have a dog, Francis! And he smells like cookie dough! You never told me. I love dogs, especially dogs that understand English. Walk. You want a walk?” She rubbed his ears and kissed the top of his head. “He’s so soft.”

  “Sawyer, meet Ralph.” With luck, the visit would be over before it started. Ralph was the excuse Francis needed to escape. He reached for the leash that hung on a hook beside the front door. “And now that you’ve said walk, we have to go right away or he’ll never leave us alone. See you later, Mom.” He opened the door.

  “Don’t be rude, Francis. Have a snack first,” admonished his mother. “Ralph will be fine. Why don’t you two go to the living room and I’ll round up something to tide you over until dinner?”

  “Sounds great. Thanks, Mrs. S. I’m starving!” Sawyer rubbed her hands together.

  “Not for long,” his mother said, laughing, and hurried down the hall.

  When she was gone, Sawyer turned to Francis. “Nice digs.” She eyed the paintings that lined the walls. “I don’t know why you were so uptight about showing those off.”

  Francis looked at Sawyer. “The thing is, I’d rather be at your place.” He started toward the living room, Sawyer on his heels.

  “Well, too bad. I think I like it better here.” She looked around, taking in the large, comfortable space, the green velvet curtains, woven Indian rugs, worn oak floor, and African tribal face masks.

  “Wow. Fancy! There’s stuff here from all over the world. Who is that?” She pointed at a fat tabby cat curled up on the leather couch.

  “That’s Steve.”

  “Weird name for a cat.” She scooped the cat up, pulled him onto her knee, and sank into the soft cushions.

  “He’s a weird cat.”

  “Sit,” she ordered Francis while scratching Steve’s head. He purred happily.

  “A friend for life,” Francis commented, obeying her but sitting down at the opposite end of the couch. He put as much space between them as he could. Then, changing the subject, he said, “This is bizarre.” He immediately stood up. “Should I put some music on?”

  “Sure. You’ve got enough vinyl and CDs in here to open a store.”

  “I guess.” He picked up the iPod attached to the speaker system and hit play. “Let’s take a chance on the music.”

  Sawyer giggled when the sentimental “Open Arms” by Journey came on.

  “Sorry.” Francis turned the volume down and hastily explained the song choice to Sawyer. “My mom’s music.”

  She smiled. “A love song. Sweet. Are you trying to tell me something?” She fluttered eyelashes in mock seduction.

  “Uh, I guess…” He bit his top lip. “Like, can we go now? Oh no,” he added.

  “What’s that?” asked Sawyer, putting her finger to her lips. “Can you hear it? A sort of wailing.”

  “That,” Francis said with a sigh, “is Mom. She loves to sing, but she’s tone-deaf. Cover your ears.”

  Sawyer giggled. “Your mom is cool.”

  In spite of his unease, Francis couldn’t help but laugh as his mother struggled to hit a high note. He rolled his eyes. “She’s never been able to carry a tune.”

  “Ten points for trying,” Sawyer said, picking up the blue-and-yellow cushion beside her and running her hand over it. “Hand-embroidered silk. You’re rich,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Everyone in this whole neighborhood is rich. No wonder you never made it across town.”

  Francis got up and changed the song, ignoring her; there was no point in starting an argument he’d never win. When he returned to the couch, he sat a few inches closer to Sawyer. “Like I said before, it’s relative, isn’t it? You should see some of the boys in my school.”

  “You never told me about your brothers. You know, that they are…”

  “Adopted.”

  “Well, I was going to say black, but adopted, yeah.”

  “It didn’t seem important. They’re just my pesky, adorable brothers.” Francis’s eyes wandered to the African art that filled the room. “They were three months old when we got them. They were born in the Ivory Coast—in Africa,” he added as an afterthought.

  “I know where the Ivory Coast is. Even public school kids learn geography, Francis.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” That was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to bring her here to his home. He knew she’d put him under a microscope and that she wouldn’t like what she saw.

  “That’s how it sounded to me. Anyway,” she continued, “what happened to their real parents?”

  “Birth parents,” Francis corrected. “We’re their real family.” He paused. “It’s sad. We don’t know anything about their dad, but their mom was killed in cross fire in the civil war.”

  “Poor little guys.”

  “They’re actually pretty happy little guys,” he said. “They don’t need your sympathy.”

  “Sorry,” Sawyer murmured. “Touchy.” She picked at the cushion again and put it protectively over her stomach. “Go on.”

  “They were newborns when they were left at the orphanage,” Francis
continued. “They don’t remember a thing about those days. It’s hard to talk about. I mean, someone’s misfortune was our fortune.”

  Sawyer nodded. “So that explains all the African stuff around here. Don’t beat yourself up. They’re lucky to have you now.” She patted the cushion beside her. “Come closer. I don’t bite. Unless, of course…” She stuck her tongue out and licked her lips slowly.

  “Sawyer, stop it! My mom could walk in any second.”

  “Relax, Francis. It’s not illegal to have a girlfriend.”

  On cue, his mom arrived, carrying a tray laden with sandwiches, cookies, and two tall glasses of iced tea. “It certainly isn’t,” she joked. “But it’s new for us. Francis has never brought a girl home before.”

  “Mom!”

  His mother winked at him. He prayed she’d make a quick exit, but instead she turned her attention to Sawyer. “What an interesting name you have.”

  “My mom named me Sawyer after Tom Sawyer. My grandfather used to read it to her when she was a kid, but he died when she was ten, so she named me Sawyer because she said those were good days.”

  “Hmm, and what school do you go to, Sawyer?”

  “Third degree,” Francis grumbled, biting into a cookie.

  “Well, you don’t meet many girls, going to an all-boys school. I’m just curious. Do you go to Townsend?” she asked.

  Townsend was the all-girls school.

  Sawyer picked a sandwich from the tray and took a big bite. “Yummy. No. No private school for me. I go to Robert Service Secondary.”

  Francis’s mom cocked her head to one side. “I’m not familiar with that school.”

  “East Side,” Sawyer clarified. “You wouldn’t know it. It’s not famous for much, except we have a great breakfast and lunch program for the little kids.”

  Francis saw the twinkle in his girlfriend’s eye and the wheels turning in his mother’s brain. She didn’t have a clue what Sawyer meant.

  “Oh. That’s nice.” Confirming his suspicion, she continued with a smile. “Francis likes a hot lunch, but that’s a Friday treat. I like to send him to school with a lunch I’ve made. That way I know he is eating healthy food and not junk.”

  “How sweet,” Sawyer purred. “But it’s not quite the same thing.”

  Francis looked to see if his mom detected the sarcasm, but her bewildered expression painted a firm no.

  “Anyway,” Sawyer went on, “we moved here from London last year.”

  “London.” His mother perked up. “We’ve been there several times, haven’t we, Francis? Lovely city. I can’t get enough of the Tate Modern, although my family has certainly never appreciated it. They like to spend their time digging through record stores and going to plays and concerts.”

  “I meant London, Ontario,” Sawyer clarified. “Not quite as exciting. But I loved it there,” she added wistfully.

  “Oh. Well, I’m sure it’s a lovely place, in its own way. A bit cold, though.” His mother spoke through pursed lips and brushed some flour off her sleeve. “How did you two meet?”

  “We should take Ralph for his walk,” Francis interjected. “Now.”

  They both ignored him. He picked up a sandwich and paced around the room, keeping an eye on them from a distance. Sawyer and his mother were polar opposites in every way, but they had a lot to say to each other. In fact, Sawyer couldn’t seem to shut up.

  “To answer your question, Francis and I met at a dance.” She helped herself to three cookies, offering one to Ralph, who greedily swallowed it in one gulp, then stared at her in adoration.

  “Not a great idea.” His mom shook her head. “He’s fat enough as it is. Iced tea?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “So you met at a dance? Really? At school?” She picked up one of the two tall glasses on the tray. “Mmm,” she said, sipping on Francis’s iced tea. She handed the other glass to Sawyer. “Cheers.”

  “Thank you.” Sawyer took a sip. “No, we met at the community center—the one in this ’hood. Your son has some terrific moves on the dance floor.”

  “Oh, spare me,” Francis muttered, his comment falling on deaf ears.

  “He does, does he? Must have picked them up from me. When he was a little boy, I used to turn the music on full blast and we’d dance until we dropped.” She smiled at the memory. “The twins love to dance too.”

  Francis stuffed another sandwich into his mouth. It tasted like gravel, but it gave him the excuse he needed to avoid talking. Why couldn’t Sawyer just stop blabbing? But no. She had to describe the night they met—and to his mother of all people.

  “And after that, we started hanging together. That was over a month and a half ago—actually, six weeks and one day—so I said, ‘Time to meet the family!’ and here we are. Right, Francis?”

  Francis scowled at Sawyer. She scowled right back at him. “Anything you’d care to add?”

  “I wasn’t listening.”

  “Don’t mind him,” his mother said. “He’s always been a bit of a dreamer.” She swirled the ice around in her empty glass and stood up. “Francis, I’m afraid I’ve drunk your iced tea. Would you like one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Sawyer, another one?”

  “Sure, that would be nice,” Sawyer replied. “I’m not used to being waited on.”

  Francis shook his head. “I seriously think we should get going.”

  “Okay,” Sawyer snapped, and dumped Steve unceremoniously onto the floor. The cat’s withering look was lost on her. “Since you can’t relax, let’s go.”

  She jumped up and grabbed Francis’s hand. It was an intimate gesture. “Come on.” She pulled him toward the hallway.

  His mother raised her eyebrows, but he daren’t shake Sawyer off. She’d be furious. She’d take it the wrong way and assume he was ashamed of her. He’d learned over the last six weeks that she had a short fuse.

  “It’s probably better if I skip the iced tea, anyway. My stomach’s been a bit upset lately, so I probably shouldn’t load up on sugar.”

  His mom shook her head. “I hope it’s not the flu. The twins were sick with the flu for a week and it was horrible, for all of us.”

  “I don’t know,” Sawyer replied. “School’s stressful right now. Lots of homework. Lots of late nights.” She dropped Francis’s hand and took hold of his arm. “I think I got up too quickly.”

  “You’ve gone a bit white,” said his mom. “Sit back down, take a deep breath, and the nausea will fade.”

  “Actually, may I use your bathroom?”

  “I’ll show you the way.” She touched Sawyer gently on her arm. “Are you sure you’re up for a walk with a crazy pooch?”

  Francis watched the color slowly return to his girlfriend’s face. She nodded. “You’re very kind…I think the fresh air might help me feel better.”

  “Meet you in the front yard.” Francis attached Ralph’s leash to the dog’s collar and escaped out the door. They waited impatiently outside until Sawyer and his mom reappeared. Sawyer seemed much better.

  “Thanks for the snacks, Mrs. S, and the iced tea. I hope Francis invites me over again,” she called cheerfully as she tied up the laces on her vivid pink Converse.

  Kevin’s mom smiled. “It was nice meeting you, Sawyer,” she said. “Get some rest. You don’t want to get sick. I hope you’ll come back soon.”

  Was it his imagination, or did Francis hear a level of doubt in his mother’s voice? Screw it. He pushed the thought away. After all, it wasn’t up to his mom to choose his girlfriend.

  Chapter Two

  Once away from home, his mother’s curious eyes, and his brothers’ saucy comments, Francis relaxed. When Sawyer pressed her hand into his, he squeezed her fingers affectionately. They made their way toward the park in happy silence. Ralph pulled at the lead, impatient to chase the sq
uirrels and explore delicious smells.

  Secretly, Francis hoped they’d run into someone he knew, maybe someone from his school who would report seeing him with a pretty girl wearing blue-and-pink leggings and a hip-length black sweater, a girl with London tattooed on her left shoulder.

  He turned toward her and gave her a kiss on the lips. She laughed. “What was that for?”

  “Putting up with Mom’s prying questions.”

  “I like her. I didn’t think she was prying, just curious. She’s the opposite of my mom. Not tired and sad. I like that she’s not afraid to sing her heart out, even if she’s tone-deaf.”

  “And I like you! I like how you always say what you think. I like how you don’t judge me.”

  “Oh, Francis. The secret is that I don’t care about what other people think of me. Your mom’s the same way.” She paused and took a deep breath. “You should try it sometime.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained silent. Still, he wished she’d returned his compliment with one of her own, instead of reproaching him.

  “Anyway…” Sawyer poked him playfully. “On to something else. I can’t wait to meet your dad. Where is he, anyway?” She looked up at him and paused briefly. “You have a dad, right?”

  “Yeah, but he’s away a lot. No mystery. He’s a pilot.”

  “Nice. So you get free flights and stuff?”

  “In principle, but we don’t travel too much. My brothers are a handful, even at home on the ground. It’s not as exciting as it sounds.” Francis sighed. “I wish he were home more, though.” He tugged on Ralph’s lead. “Slow down, boy. We’re almost there.”

  “Be happy you’ve got a dad,” Sawyer retorted, her face twisted in a sour smile. “Not having one is worse.”

  He’d noticed that the word dad was some kind of trigger for her. He got that she missed her father, but he didn’t want to get into it with her right now. He wasn’t in the mood for a big discussion about what a jerk her dad had turned out to be. Instead, he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know. I am.”