Seeking Sara Summers

by Susan Gabriel

  Francesca shook Sara’s hand and said, “Nice to meet you.”

  She wore sophisticated fashions—elegant and understated, impeccably accessorized. Sara wondered if Melanie had been to Francesca’s shop because there was a similarity in the way they dressed.

  “What a beautiful scarf,” Francesca said.

  Sara smiled, but the moment felt bittersweet. The scarf, as well as the new life, would have to go in two short days. Sara served the brie and crackers and seconds later Julia entered the room. The conversation suspended momentarily, as though Julia’s beauty had caught them all by surprise.

  Julia sat on the plush sofa and patted the cushion next to her for Sara to join her. Sara gave a quick nod no, and chose an arm chair across the room. Francesca lifted an eyebrow. Had Julia told them anything? Surely she wouldn’t, Sara thought, not without asking her first. But the intimacy of her gesture was obvious.

  “Julia must be keeping you quite entertained,” Francesca said to Sara. “We haven’t seen her in days.”

  “Yes, my visit has been quite eventful,” Sara said.

  Julia had been watching Sara ever since they sat down. Sara purposely did not look in Julia’s direction. Francesca studied them for several seconds, her curiosity knitted in her eyebrows, and then her eyes widened slightly, as if her intuition had revealed what Julia had not confided.

  “Am I missing something?” Georgio asked, as if suddenly aware of the overabundance of innuendo in the room.

  “Of course not, darling.” Francesca patted him on the arm. It was evident that she was on to them and was not so much shocked with the revelation as pleased.

  “Francesca attended Bryn Mawr,” Julia said to Sara.

  “Yes, of course,” Sara said. “No wonder your English is so good.”

  Francesca smiled. Bryn Mawr was a liberal all-women’s college in the States, so Sara doubted she could be shocked by anything. Francesca shared some stories of her school days and Georgio spoke of his current graduate work in mathematics.

  The evening progressed. The conversation was intelligent, yet also lighthearted and after dinner they lingered at the table over dessert and coffee. Despite her hesitation, Sara relaxed and warmed to Julia’s friends.

  Throughout the evening, Sara and Julia exchanged longer and deeper glances. By the end of dessert, Sara was ready for Francesca and Georgio to leave so she could get Julia into the bedroom. At the same time a lingering heaviness prevailed, like the humidity in New England after a hard summer rain.

  They spent the majority of the next day in bed and by late afternoon took tea and pastries to the balcony. Sara was to leave for the airport early the next morning. Julia had arranged to borrow Georgio’s Fiat to drive Sara to Milan. As the time of her departure neared, Sara found herself withdrawing more and more.

  “Are you okay?” Julia asked her.

  “I suppose,” she said, picking at a croissant.

  Julia put her hand on Sara’s.

  “You have an artist’s hands,” Sara said. “Strong, yet feminine at the same time. I’ll miss your hands,” she added. “Actually, I’ll miss every inch of you.”

  Julia smiled briefly. “”I’m not sure how to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Say goodbye.” Neither looked in the other’s eyes. “I usually can’t wait to get rid of someone,” Julia said. “But this has definitely been different.”

  “Maybe I could visit again next year,” Sara said, but she didn’t even know if there would be a next year. She had told Julia about the cancer scare but she had not told her it was back. She wondered now if it was wise to keep it from her.

  “I don’t know if I can go that long without seeing you,” Julia said. “I could come to the States. I haven’t been for a visit in quite a while. And I’ve been wondering if there’s a market for my paintings there.”

  “What about Grady?” Sara asked.

  “Yes, what about Grady?” Julia’s question felt pointed and meant to challenge.

  “I’m sure he’d be happy to see you,” Sara said, not up for the challenge.

  Julia laughed briefly. Sara hadn’t asked what had happened between Julia and Grady before they had parted thirty years before. But the last thing she wanted to talk about at that moment was Grady.

  “I don’t know what you want,” Julia said. “Do you want me to leave you alone? Do you want to pretend this never happened?”

  “In a way, I do wish it had never happened,” Sara said.

  “Excuse me?” Julia asked.

  “That didn’t come out right,” Sara said. “I just don’t like pain,” Sara added. “And leaving you feels like the most painful thing I’ll ever do.”

  On the opposite balcony, Mrs. Baraldi came out to gather the laundry. Their conversation ceased. Mrs. Baraldi nodded her greeting as the clothesline squeaked steadily with each pull of her hands. What would Julia’s Italian neighbor think of the dramatics in the apartment across the way? Sara wondered.

  But every family had its dirty laundry. At some point over the last two weeks, Julia had relayed the story of Mrs. Biraldi’s brother, a priest, who had a mistress and a brood of children all looking exactly like him; his vow of chastity left at the altar like an abandoned bride. But Sara imagined that if revealed the American artist in love with another American woman could keep the grapevine of her extended family producing wine for weeks.

  Bella rubbed her face against Sara’s leg and startled her out of her thoughts. It was a bold move for Bella to come out on the balcony and Sara leaned down and rubbed under her chin to reward her. When Sara looked up Julia had gone.

  Sara went inside to look for her and knocked lightly on the closed bedroom door. Sara was reminded of their first morning at Max and Melanie’s. They seemed to be talking to each other through doors these days.

  Julia invited her in and Sara joined her at the window. The narrow streets bustled with activity. Yet Florence felt desolate at that moment. Neither spoke. It was as if the sadness between them had no voice. In Sara’s mind they had reached a dead end in their relationship. The road before them had no way forward. It could only wrap back around to the same place.

  “At least we had this week,” Sara offered meekly.

  Julia’s face tensed. “Sara, you are driving me insane! One minute this is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Then next minute you wish it had never happened. Make up your mind, Sweetheart, what do you want?”

  “I want you,” Sara said, without hesitation. “I want to stay here forever. Whatever forever is.”

  “Then why don’t you stay?”

  “And do what?”

  “I’m sure they need teachers here, too,” Julia began. “Especially English-speaking ones. Besides, I have enough money to support us both for a while.”

  Sara had money, too. Even after the trip, the money she received for Mimi’s ring could support her for months. But life didn’t involve a happily ever after. At least not her life.

  “Don’t do this,” Sara said.

  “I don’t like how you can just throw us away,” Julia said.

  “I don’t want to talk about this.” Sara sounded like Grady. Practicality trumped dreams.

  “Why not?” Julia insisted. “Why not talk about it?”

  “Because it will just make everything worse,” she said.

  “What are you so afraid of, Sara?”

  Julia’s question penetrated her. “What am I afraid of?” she asked. “Getting hurt, of course. Hell, even life terrifies me. Maybe someone with more courage would consider the different options and maybe even stay here. But I’m not that person, Julia. I wish I was. But I’m not.” The tears had begun now.

  Julia’s face softened. Sara sat on the bed, hugging a box of tissues to her chest to clean up her messy downpour. Julia sat next to Sara and put an arm around her. Their sadness rocked them, like two trees quaking in a storm. Losses crackled through Sara, like bolts of lightning crashing to earth. Her mother’s d
eath. Her father’s absence after she died. The day Julia had left, when they were sixteen. Her marriage to Grady and all their disconnections over the years. And then the cancer. The cancer diagnosis had been a blessing and a curse. It had woken her up from the deep sleep she had been living. Cancer had taught her that life was finite. That every moment deserved her attention and was a miracle in itself. But it hadn’t taught her everything. It hadn’t taught her how to take responsibility for her life.

  “I need you to understand something,” Sara said to Julia after her tears had slowed. “This isn’t a piece of cake for me, either. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next twenty-four hours as it is. Do you think I don’t realize what I’m doing? Or how much I’m hurting us both?”

  A pile of used tissues formed a mountain between them. “I don’t understand why you would go back to such an unsatisfying life,” Julia said.

  Sara wiped a lone tear that ran down her cheek. The drama that had played out between them seemed an eternal conflict. Would she follow the dictates of the heart or those of the mind? Despite Sara’s cathartic outpouring, it felt obvious which path she would take. Her Puritan ancestors now had a chorus of voices cheering from the sidelines of her mind, telling her to do the right thing, the appropriate, acceptable thing.

  “Do you really want to know why I’m doing this?” Sara asked finally, her voice soft with surrender. “Because this is what I do, Julia. I don’t have the guts to choose anything else. I can’t change my whole life and start over. I don’t know how to do something like that. I’m surprised I even allowed myself to love you in the first place.”

  “Are you saying what happened between us was a mistake?” Julia asked.

  “No, it wasn’t a mistake. I just wish I were a different person.”

  “But you could be if you just tried,” Julia said.

  Could she? She wanted to believe Julia but she felt at odds with herself, as if her old and her new life were in a tug-of-war with each other. And at that moment, her old life was winning.

  “You’re asking too much from me,” Sara began again. “I have Grady to think about and my children. If they found out about our last week together, they’d think I’d gone completely nuts.” She attempted a laugh but it sounded more like a wail. “You have to realize, Julia, that I’ve spent my whole life living out the expectations of other people. That’s what I do. I’m not supposed to have a life. I’m not supposed to go to a foreign country and fall in love with someone. Not just someone but a woman, for Christ’s sake. And then live happily ever after? Who does that kind of thing?”

  “You do,” Julia said.

  Sara lay on the bed. Julia joined her. They didn’t speak for several minutes. “I need some time,” Sara said finally.

  The room darkened. Thunder rumbled in the distance. They lay together staring at the ceiling like two bodies washed and laid out for burial. Their perfect time together had come to an end. This poignant moment called for something more. Professional mourners, Sara decided. A chorus of wise Italian women wearing black and beating their breasts in anguish. But there was no one to witness the passing of what could have been. She had asked Julia for more time but was time what she needed?

  By noon the next day they stood at the busy airport in Milan waiting for the time when Sara would have to leave. “So you’ll email?” Julia asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Sara said, distracted by the movement around them.

  “You know, there is this little invention called telephones, too,” Julia said.

  Sara looked at her watch. Would Jess remember to pick her up at the airport in New York? All morning Sara had focused on the details of her flight: the timing of getting to the airport, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, departure times and arrivals, numbers of gates. These things helped her avoid the temptation to stay, which had been growing all day.

  “Do you think the plane will be on time?” Sara asked. She was taking chit-chat to a whole new level in an attempt to avoid a dramatic goodbye. At any moment she might begin to spout off about the weather.

  “They usually are on time,” Julia said.

  “At least the weather’s good.” Sara cringed. The small talk was driving her mad, but she deserved madness, didn’t she?

  “Max and Melanie called while you were in the shower this morning,” Julia said. “They wanted to wish you a good flight.”

  “That’s nice.” Sara felt distant, as though a part of her—the cowardly part—had already left to board the plane.

  Her motives for going back to Grady and her old life were not something Sara trusted Julia to understand. She felt like a prisoner given day leave, who now must return to her cell to finish out a life sentence. It wasn’t rational, but it was the way she felt. Her only regret was how her irrationality had affected Julia.

  Two teenage girls with backpacks thrown over their shoulders spoke in animated Italian next to them. Sara wondered where they were going and what adventure they had in store. She turned to Julia and smiled.

  “What?” Julia asked.

  “They remind me of us,” she said. “We were going to backpack around Europe, remember?”

  “We still could,” Julia said.

  Sara ignored her comment. “I wonder what might have happened if you hadn’t moved away.”

  Julia and Sara watched the girls intently. “Funny how something so long ago can be so vivid,” Julia said. “I can still remember the day I left Northampton.”

  “You waved at me from the cab as you drove away,” Sara said. “My heart was breaking.”

  “Mine, too,” Julia said softly. “Kind of like now.”

  Sara glanced at her watch to avoid looking at Julia. “I have to go,” she said, with an urgency that suggested the plane was already roaring down the runway. Sara grabbed her travel bag and purse and a copy of the New York Times she had bought in the airport to read on the way home. They turned for a final, quick embrace. Sara held her breath as they embraced, as though Julia’s scent might weaken her.

  “Wait a minute,” Julia said. She pulled a small wrapped gift out of the side pocket of her purse.

  “What’s this?” Sara asked.

  “Just a little going-away present,” Julia said.

  Sara tucked the package into her travel bag. “Thanks for everything,” she said, sounding like a lodger acknowledging the hospitality of a stranger.

  “You’re welcome.” Julia’s words sounded guarded. “This is when I beg you to stay, right?”

  “Please don’t,” Sara whispered. She turned away, her steps quickening as she approached the gate. She didn’t look back. She didn’t wave. She couldn’t bear to. It was taking every ounce of her strength to leave.

  Within seconds Sara had disappeared into airport security, and out of Julia’s life.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Sara leaned into the window letting her body absorb the vibration of the plane readying to take off. Her emotions disappeared into the steady drone of the engines. As they lifted off and climbed through the clouds the plane began to bounce against the wind currents. Her stomach leapt to her throat. It seemed appropriate that there would be turbulence. Turbulence that was serious enough to make her wish she had Julia to hold onto in that fatal last tailspin to the earth.

  An attractive older woman in her 70s was sitting next to Sara. She pulled an elegant rosary from her large purse. The Madonna again. In this incarnation, she was surrounded by gold and pearls and hanging from a gold chain. The older woman closed her eyes, the gold Mary resting among the wrinkles of her hands. For some reason this comforted Sara.

  They climbed in altitude until the turbulence finally ended. Sara and the woman exchanged relieved smiles. Then she returned the gold Madonna to an inner compartment of her purse, and pulled out a book to read, as if her mission to keep then safe had ended.

  A plane crash would have at least ended my misery, Sara thought. She welcomed the thought of not having to deal with herself anymore.


  “Are you all right, dear?” the older woman asked. Her hair was white and had a sophisticated cut. She was obviously older but at the same time appeared to defy age. Sara had assumed she was Italian, but her soft accent sounded like someone from the southern United States, possibly New Orleans.

  “I’ve been better, I guess,” Sara said. Something about this woman made her want to open up. She was everyone’s ideal grandmother. Soft, welcoming; someone who would always have homemade chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar.

  “Your trip didn’t go so well?” the woman asked.

  “Oh no, it was wonderful,” Sara said softly. “But I have to go home now.” Her determination to return to Grady and her old life felt fragile now, as if based on a false sense of duty. She had traveled five thousand miles to reinforce her allegiance to the rule books of life. Rule books that charted out safe, well-traveled courses, where there was no room for unexpected surprises or life-altering decisions.

  “It doesn’t sound like you really want to go home,” the woman said.

  Her eyes were blue with flecks of brown. They were kind eyes, Sara thought, with no judgment in them. The fact that Sara would probably never see this woman again invited the truth.

  “I fell in love with someone there,” Sara confessed. “I didn’t plan on it. It just happened.”

  The woman nodded, as if in touch with some deep understanding.

  “I did the right thing by ending it,” Sara said. “It was the thing that would cause the least damage and disruption to my life. People count on me not to change, you know?”

  The woman sighed. “That must have been very hard for you,” she said.

  “It was horribly hard. But I think I’ve just fooled myself,” Sara said. “What I thought would cause the least damage to my family has caused massive injury to me. Not to mention its affect on the person I fell in love with.”

  A splitting headache echoed Sara’s conflict. Instead of relieving the pain with the aspirin in her purse, she let it punish her.