by Sarah Price
“What’s wrong?” He looks concerned.
“I can’t do this, Jack.” Despite what her heart wants, Tia knows that her mind just won’t let go.
“Don’t you want to be with me, Tia?” And the way he asks makes Tia sob even more because more than anything, she wants to be with him.
“Yes, but I can’t.” She tries to pull away but Jack’s arms won’t let her.
“That’s not a good enough reason.” Jack is not convinced.
“There are a million reasons.”
“Name one.”
Tia looks into his eyes and gives him the only reason that matters, “Sarah.”
It’s a relief to be able to put it into words. Tia can’t shake the feeling that Sarah has been with them all day long, on the boat, at the fiesta, sharing their dance together. It’s as if her spirit has been watching them. Jack nods with a look of understanding but he is shaking his head as if he disagrees with her.
“Tia, listen to me,” he commands. She looks down but Jack pulls her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Listen carefully. I am not trying to recreate something that I lost. I will never forget Sarah and I will always love her. She lives inside of me, like your kids live inside of you but you and Sarah are so different in so many ways. You each bring something into my life that I need.”
This makes sense to Tia but she’s still afraid, unhinged at the thought of getting close to Jack. He senses this too and explains further, “Look, you don’t get to chose who you love. Life does that for you and so far it’s brought me Sarah and now you. I think in a way Sarah knows I need you. She wants me to be happy.”
“How can you be so sure?” Because Tia is unsure of everything at this moment.
“Because I know that you make me happy.”
Tears are still streaming down her eyes and she pulls her face back from Jack’s hand, unable to look at him anymore. She knows there’s something more than Sarah’s ghost keeping her from giving herself completely to him and she’s afraid to tell him. Instead, she simply says, “I can’t do this.”
“Because?” The question is left to hang in the air for a few seconds. Tia tries to walk away but Jack stands in front of her, preventing her from moving, “Tia, why can’t you do this? Just say it.”
“Because…” She’s terrified.
“Because? Just say the words.” He is urging her to confront her fears.
“Because…” She can’t. Yet, he doesn’t look away and instead, waits patiently for Tia to answer. She tries to think of the right words, the right way to say it. But there is no good way to say what is really on her mind unless she just puts it out there. Finally, she does, “It will be too hard to say good-bye.” There it is, what she’s been worried about all this time, more haunting than Sarah’s ghost.
“Good-bye?” He’s taken by surprise and Tia can see he’s trying to process this in his head.
She continues. “Yes, when I leave to go back home, it will be hard to say good-bye.”
She sees that he relaxes. “So we won’t say good-bye.” He says this without a hint of hesitation.
“But Jack, I can’t stay. I have to go back to my family, my kids.”
“Look at me, Tia,” he commands again. This time, Tia does as she’s told and sees the kindness and understanding in Jack’s eyes. How much she wants to kiss him, caress his face, lose herself in him. It would be so easy to do. The words he speaks next change everything for Tia, “When the time comes, we won’t say good-bye.”
“But…”
He interrupts her before she can finish her sentence, “We’ll just say, ‘See you around’”
“See you around?” She repeats what she’s heard as if she’s not sure of the meaning.
“Yes, see you around.” He says this as if he is trying to jog her memory of something.
“Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that.” He looks at her intently, willing her to remember, his hand on her cheek, brushing away the tears from her eyes. “We’ll say, ‘Talk to you soon.’”
“Talk to you soon?” And all at once she does remember: The summer before her sixteenth birthday, their last goodbye. Jack is reliving that day, repeating their last conversation.
“Yes. Now you try it.” She is hesitant to say it but Jack won’t let go. “Come on, Tia. We won’t say good-bye. We’ll say…”
He is waiting patiently for her and finally she does, following the script from years before, “Keep in touch.”
His face lights up and Tia can’t help but respond. He continues, “Don’t be a stranger.”
She follows, “Write back soon.”
They both laugh and then his expression changes. She recognizes the look of desire, the same look she’s sure is mirrored in her own face, and somehow knows they are about to head down a road that will not change directions. He takes her arm and pulls Tia close to him, the heat of his body making Tia feel as if she will come undone. In a low voice, he lets her know, “We won’t say good-bye because there’ll be no reason to say it.”
Still trying to keep her two feet on firm ground, she whispers one final time, “But when we do?”
“See you soon,” he says softly.
“Drop me a line.”
He kisses her with such urgency that she can’t fight her feelings anymore, despite her fears, despite Sarah and Michael, despite the fact that her mind is yelling at her to run out the door. Everything is overpowered by this need to be with him, to feel his hands, to feel his breath on her skin as he explores her body for the first time.
Jack cups her cheeks in his hands, hoping to ease any lingering doubts she has, “I’ve known only twice in my life for certain. Only twice. And these feelings are real. Trust me, Tia.”
And just like on that day when she sprained her ankle, those words from him is all she needs to hear to let herself go completely. She pulls him to her, her lips on his, her mouth parting slightly as her tongue explores his. Her hands slide down his back to the front of his chest, moving to his shoulders, taking her time to feel every curve of his muscles with her fingertips, down to his stomach, and finally moving down to the waist of his pants.
Her fingers seek out the edge of his shirt, pulling it up, to his chest, his neck and over his head. Once bare-chested, Tia lets her lips and tongue slide down from his neck to the rest of his body. He responds with a low groan and moves his own hands underneath Tia’s shirt to undo the clasp of her bra. His hands cup her breasts as his body gently pushes her back, moving both of their bodies from the hallway to the living room and finally settling down on his sofa.
The next few minutes are a series of frenzied movements, yearning taking over for both of them, so many emotions pent up for so many years finally spilling out. Tia’s body is responding as if this is what she has been waiting for, as if Jack’s touch is all she needs to make her whole again. She closes her eyes as she feels his hands all over her, alternating between gentle and soft, to hard and urgent. This cycle of fast and slow drives Tia to the brink several times, until finally they join together, moving in unison, sharing in moments of ecstasy. At that moment, there are no goodbyes, only beginnings, a rediscovery of something lost long ago. For Tia, all there is is Jack, the boy she loved and the man who is reawakening a part of her that has been hidden away.
The next morning, Tia wakes and, for a minute, is lost, not sure where she is as she looks around at the unfamiliar surroundings. But then the images come flooding back from last night and a smile crosses her face. She remembers the both of them on the sofa, the desperate need they had for one another. She remembers Jack scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to his bedroom. She remembers the feeling of exhausted contentment. And the last thing she remembers before she closed her eyes to sleep was Jack lying right besides her, pushing away a loose strand of hair from her face and kissing her softly, lightly tracing his finger down her shoulder to her hand to her fingertips.
As she lifts up her head from the pillow,
she sees a note on the side table besides her.
Tia,
I went to the Inn to take care of a few things. Will be back soon to spend the rest of the day with you. Make yourself at home.
Jack
After spending a few minutes savoring the feel of her body on Jack’s bed, Tia finally gets up to explore his bedroom. Tia believes that a bedroom is the window into one’s soul. What is inside the room can reveal a lot about the person. She is surprised to see how sparse Jack’s room is with very few items scattered on the top of the dresser and nightstand. It’s clear that the room is meant only for sleep and nothing more. There is no television, no radio, nothing that lets Tia glimpse into who Jack is.
As she moves into the living room, there is more to see. There are several wooden shelves filled to the brim with books, mostly of history, a few architectural reviews, some fishing magazines and suspense novels. There are pictures hanging up on the wall, one of the Inn and a framed article written in Global Travel magazine, a few family pictures, including one of Jack with the biggest fish she has ever seen.
There are no pictures of Sarah except for one. Tia moves in closer to get a better look. It is a black and white framed picture-taken at the beach. Her smile is warm, inviting. She is very pretty with dark brown hair and big dark eyes. She looks so friendly, someone that Tia can see being good friends with. Suddenly, she feels a pang of jealousy and immediately feels ridiculous for feeling the way she does.
Tia moves on to the kitchen, which is spotless and looks like it’s rarely used. A bottle of wine is on the counter, opened and half full. She looks for a glass and pours herself some wine. The kitchen leads into a small dining area with two French doors that open to the back of the house. She walks outside and the view from the patio is spectacular, almost as beautiful as the Inn. She can see the water before her and can hear the sounds of waves and taste the freshness of the air. The tranquility of the place puts her at ease. It is there, in this paradise that Tia sits down with her glass of wine.
She’s not sure whether it’s last night and what Jack said to her, whether it’s the fact that this is the first time she has made love to a man since her husband or whether it is the view of the beach, along with the cool morning breeze-regardless, sitting in Jack’s patio, looking at the view, brings Tia back to another time and place with Michael.
Tia and Michael
It was a postcard from the Fiji Islands. I remember it well. It was the beginning of the end for my marriage. It was the first Friday in January, one of the coldest days on record. I had received Abby’s postcard the day before and it sent me into a tailspin. There was nothing unusual about the message on the postcard. It was Abby being Abby. But something about getting the postcard sent me into a mini-depression. Maybe it was the fact that Abby was on some tropical island paradise and I was stuck in ten feet of snow with two teenage children who didn’t seem to need me anymore and a husband too busy to notice. Regardless, it did something to me, I had remembered as much.
I was in the teacher’s lounge in school during my lunch break, enjoying the few moments of silence I had before the afternoon session began when the phone rang. I picked up the phone and recognized the voice on the other end immediately. Michael always called me around this time to talk and ask how my day was going.
“Hi honey. What’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing much.” He had a strange tone to his voice.
“Really? You sound like something is going on. What is it?”
“Well, it looks like Jaime is sick,” he said.
“What do you mean sick? Is she OK?”
“I got a call from the school, said it looked like the flu and that we should pick her up. I can’t get out of work, got a court hearing this afternoon. Can you get her?”
“Sure, I’ll go. I’ll just have someone take over my class. I should make the one o’clock train out of Penn Station.”
“Thanks, honey. I’ll call the school back and tell them you are on your way.”
When I arrived at Penn Station to catch my train home, Michael was waiting for me at the entrance with a suitcase in one hand and a carry-on strapped around his shoulder. I noticed that he was not wearing his usual business suit but rather a light brown turtleneck sweater and faded jeans. For a moment, I forgot about everything, admiring how handsome my husband looked. When I caught up to him, however, confusion had set in.
“What is going on, Michael? I thought you had a court hearing this afternoon?
“I lied, sue me.” He flashed me a smile that reminded me so much of Javi whenever he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have done.
“So what’s really going on?”
“The truth is I saw how upset you were when Abby’s postcard came in the mail the other day.”
My mouth dropped open slightly. I didn’t think my reaction to Abby’s postcard affected Michael or that he even noticed what it did to me. It seemed that Michael rarely noticed anything that didn’t have to do with work or his children.
Michael handed me a ticket. As I looked down at it, he spoke again. “I know this isn’t the Fiji Islands and I know it’s too cold for the beach but I thought sharing a sunset together would be nice.”
“Montauk?”
“You’ve been so stressed at work and with the kids and all, I thought we both needed a break, well, to just be us again. So, Jaime is not sick but she is staying over a friend’s house for the weekend and Mom agreed to watch Javi. I reserved a room at a bed and breakfast with great views of the ocean.”
I looked up at Michael in disbelief. Although I had every reason to be angry with him for lying and jeopardizing my job, I smiled because he was at least trying to fix whatever it was that was between us. I finally spoke, “I guess it’s just you and me, huh?”
“Disappointed?” He asked, looking slightly worried.
“Not at all.”
The train moved slowly as the city faded into the distance. While Michael slept with his head on my shoulder, I thought about Abby’s postcard. It was a picture of the Sigatoka River, surrounded by some of the greenest mountains I had ever seen before. I could almost feel the warm gentle breeze as I remembered what Abby had written in the back of the postcard.
Dear Tia,
I arrived a few days ago and am slowly getting over the jet lag that I’ve been carrying with me from weeks of traveling. It is stunning here but more than that, it is comforting. Like an old familiar friend that has welcomed me with open arms. I wish you could be here with me to see the beauty of nature and the simply ways in which the island people live. With none of the comforts you and I would need to live, they are truly happy. How many people do you know can actually say that about their lives? It makes me wonder why it takes so much for us to be happy and others so little. Last night, I took a walk into the local village here and came across a group of native tribal musicians playing. The music was filled with life. The rhythms intoxicating with voices so joyful. It was like they were calling me home. I never felt so alive.
Abby
Alive. I never felt so alive with Michael as I had that night at Montauk. I had almost forgotten what it was like to touch him and kiss him. I almost forgot what it was like to be in love again. There was so much truth in the words Abby wrote and I took them to heart. Lying besides Michael, I slowly brushed his hair from his eyes and stared out the window from the bed at the setting sun. Whether it was the Fiji Islands or Montauk, I was home.
It was early morning when I woke up and noticed Michael on the edge of the bed, staring at me with a faint smile on his lips. As I opened my eyes, he quickly turned away and the smile disappeared. I couldn’t help but feel warm inside. It had been so long since he looked at me that way.
“You were looking at me.” I teased.
“No, I wasn’t.” Michael said defensively. He seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable.
“Yes, you were.” I was feeling playful, teasing him further.
“OK, so I was. You’re
my wife. I could do that, you know.” He said, clearly annoyed at me. Instead of letting it go like I had done so many times before, I decided to find out what was bothering him.
“Why?” I asked
“What?” He snapped back. I began to feel the dread I often felt lately as the distance between Michael and I returned. Clearly he was not making it easy for me so I asked again, “Why were you looking at me?”
Michael turned his body slightly around to face me. He looked straight into my eyes. I sensed that something was definitely wrong. Michael was rarely this serious. I was getting nervous and held my breathe waiting for him to speak as a million and one thoughts roamed freely through my mind, “What is he about to tell me? Please, not another woman, not an affair. Dear God, not an affair.”
He finally spoke, as if he was reading my mind, “When did you get to be so beautiful?”
I let out my breath and smiled. Michael was teasing me back, a bit of foreplay before we started making love again.
“Thanks a lot.” I grabbed a pillow from underneath my head and threw it at him. “I wasn’t beautiful when you married me or when I had the twins or last night?”
“You know what I mean. You were always pretty; you know that, but this morning. . .”
I sensed that this wasn’t just teasing. There was something more that Michael wanted to say to me. I stayed quiet, trying not to interrupt him, fears of an affair creeping back into my mind again. He continued. “There’s just something that shows in your face. You just look so peaceful and . . .beautiful.” There was gentleness to Michael’s voice that I hadn’t heard in a long time.
“It must have been the sex last night.” I smiled playfully, trying to lighten the moment.
“No, I’m being serious.” He paused slightly and looked down, almost afraid of saying anything else. “We use to be like this, so happy to be with each other. What happened? Why can’t it be like this all the time?” The question he asked was simple. The answer I knew was not.
“I don’t know what you mean?” But in my heart, I knew exactly what he meant. He was trying to tell me that I wasn’t happy. It scared me to hear him say that.
