by Carol Lee
***
“How was your visit with Jack?” Sam asked as we sat down to a lunch he made—leftover pumpkin curry soup. I was learning he was an incredible cook, a nice change from the Lean Cuisines I was dependent on.
“Funny thing happened there,” I started.
“Oh yeah?”
“Jack’s stuff is all gone. Did he leave?”
“Huh. I hadn’t kept tabs on him, but I would have thought I’d have heard. You’re sure he’s not just traveling for work?”
“There was nothing in either of the bedrooms’ closets that belonged to him. The only stuff in the house was Sarah’s.”
“That’s really strange. So he wasn’t there either I guess.”
“No, and no dog. Whatever happened to Casino? He was Sarah’s pride and joy.”
“I’ll have to ask Judy or Allen, Krista would know. I don’t hear from Allen about Jack ever, I wonder if Krista has kept in touch with him. How did you get into the house?”
“There was a key under one of the pots on the back porch. I let myself in.”
“You’re really sure he’s not just out of town for work? Maybe he’s gone for over a month and brought a lot with him. Maybe his stuff was behind Sarah’s,” Sam persisted.
“Maybe,” I conceded only out loud, not to myself. “But it didn’t feel like that. The house felt empty.”
“You’re used to being there with Sarah. So of course it feels empty.”
“No, this was different. It felt—closed up. Like it hasn’t had anyone there for a while. Not just Sarah. No one.”
“I’ll ask around about Jack,” Sam promised. “But in the meantime, we should make plans while you’re here to catch the tail end of the fall colors together!”
“That’d be great! Man, it’s been a long time since I was here this time of year. I was always coming out in the spring. We have colors in New York, but they seem to go much quicker. The winter is so long there!”
“Let’s go away for the weekend together before you have to go back to Ottawa,” Sam suggested.
“I’d really like that,” I said, just realizing that’s what I wanted when he proposed the option.
When I’d decided to come visit, we hadn’t talked about where I’d sleep. But when I arrived, he’d generously let me stay in my own room. Even though we’d talked almost every day since Sarah’s funeral, we’d never tried to label our relationship. I could tell Sam was keeping his distance emotionally, giving me time to decide what I wanted. At first, I’d used our time on the phone as a distraction and a connection to Sarah. But as we’d talked more, it had become so much more.
A weekend together, away from his house, away from all reminders of Sarah, with a man I was becoming increasingly interested in, would be the perfect way to spend this long weekend.
Sam – October 2009
“This is what I could find, last minute,” I said as I opened Marissa’s door for her. We’d driven two hours to the coast of Maine. There were no crowds, and lower rental prices, in the off season. We had two nights of uninterrupted time together. I had promised the fall colors, but we’d have to settle for the beach.
“This is perfect,” Marissa said, walking toward the house with a look of relaxation on her face. “I don’t think I’ve slowed down to realize how much I needed a break since Sarah died. I never spent much time with her, so I didn’t think it’d affect me the way it has.”
“She was your sister. There’s no way it wouldn’t affect you. But if you can, let’s take this time to relax—together,” I suggested. I wasn’t going to push her to ignore the reality of her sister’s death, but I wanted her to know it was an option.
“I’d like that.”
We opened the back door with the code the owner had provided me and found the key to the front door. We carried our bags into the living room, not upstairs. We hadn’t talked about sleeping arrangements yet, but I was ready to use the couch if that’s what Marissa was comfortable with.
Instead of figuring out those logistics, we walked out the other side of the house to go down to the water.
The beach was deserted. It was too cold for swimming—much too cold for swimming—and we had to wear all of the layers we’d brought, but it was worth it. Going to the beach in the fall had been a family tradition of ours. I was excited to share this tradition with Marissa.
“One time, when we were little, our parents brought Sarah and me to the beach for a week. It only happened once,” Marissa started. “I was probably 14—Sarah would have been seven. She followed me everywhere. She always did. Until I reached middle school, that was fine. But then I was ‘too cool for school’ and definitely too cool for a little sister. So I wasn’t having it that vacation. I told her there were jellyfish in the water that only liked to sting girls who were younger than ten so she wouldn’t follow me in. She was gullible. Probably because she was scared of everything. Or maybe I was the reason she was scared of everything. So I brought my boogie board into the water and starting surfing the waves with the other teenagers. I thought I could get rid of her by going with the current. But she just followed me from the beach. And then my parents asked her why she wasn’t swimming. They busted my lie pretty quickly!”
Marissa finished her story and kept looking out toward the horizon. She’d stopped walking and was letting her feet sink into the sand with each wave that came. I had stayed back, letting her share her memory, and avoiding the cold water, but I walked up next to her and took her hand in mine. I didn’t say anything. I just let her know I was here for her.
She turned to look at me, and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“I do want this weekend to be about being with you, not dwelling on Sarah being gone. I love her and I miss her, but I know I have to live my life too,” she said.
“You can share as much or as little as you want,” I promised. “I’m just happy that you came here with me. I know you have to get back to Ottawa and finish the semester. But this means a lot to me.”
“I’m really happy to be here,” she said and pulled her feet out of the sand that had covered them. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me gently. I pulled her to me with one arm around her waist, her head rested on my chest, looking toward the never ending crashing of waves.
***
“I brought ingredients for an Italian dinner tonight,” Marissa said when went back inside.
“Perfect, I have a bottle of red wine. Want a glass?” I asked as I opened cabinets looking for wine glasses.
“That’d be great. Shoot, I forgot the meatballs.”
“No worries. We can go vegetarian for one night. I have ground beef for chili for tomorrow night.”
I found the wine glasses and poured two full glasses. Marissa was busy at the stove salting and adding oil to the water so it would boil faster for the spaghetti, so I waited until she turned around.
“To new beginnings,” I said and handed her a glass.
“To living our lives,” she said and we clinked glasses. “This is good!”
“I liked the label,” I admitted.
“That’s not really how you choose a bottle of wine, is it?”
“It is.”
“I used to. But then I found some bad wines with awesome labels, so I stopped. I settled on a few that I know I like. But I’ll have to add this to the list! Hand me that cutting board,” she requested and I was put to work with her. “How’s work going?”
“It’s fine.”
“No really, how’s it going? I want to know more of what you do.”
“Well, today, Allen and I had to go to a house because there was a bear on their property.”
“Isn’t that for animal control?” she asked without turning around from her cutting of mushrooms.
“You’d think so. But the caller was in her 70s. So she called 9-1-1. And we responded.”
“So normally you don’t have stressful cases,” she said, rather than asked.
“True. What about you? How�
�s the semester going?”
“So far, fine. I’m not sure what I’ll be going back to in Ottawa, though. I don’t think I’m going to spend the rest of the semester there. I’m just not excited about it. Actually, since Sarah died, I haven’t been excited about teaching, or living in New TOrk. Something is drawing me back home,” she said, turning to look at me mischievously.
“Well, whenever you’re ready to come back, you’ll be welcomed with open arms.”
“How’s the garlic coming?” she asked.
“Almost done, you need them yet?”
“Not yet. Half will go in the sauce, the other half is for the garlic bread. Just keep mincing!”
“Music?” I asked, putting my knife down without authorization from the Chef de Cuisine.
“Oooo, yes please.”
I walked into the living room and found my iPod and speakers. “Any preferences?”
“Favorite cooking music is Fun.”
“Lucky for you, I have them.” I scrolled through the list of artists and plugged everything in on the kitchen counter.
Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck
Some nights I call it a draw
Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights I wish they'd just fall off
Marissa started singing along and I couldn’t help but smile. But when she starting singing and swinging her knife and hips, I burst out laughing.
But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for oh
Whoa oh oh (What do I stand for?)
Whoa oh oh (What do I stand for?)
Most nights I don't know anymore...
Oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, oh,
Oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, oh
By the end, she was facing me and I carefully walked up to her, put my hands on her hips, the knife down and we danced to the rest of the song.
“I know I already told you this, but I’m really happy to be here with you,” she whispered in my ear, standing on her tiptoes. I hadn’t realized how short she was until I had my arms around her.
“You can tell me as many times as you want,” I whispered back and kissed her.
“The linguini! It’s boiling over!” she exclaimed with a smile and rushed out of my arms, back to the stove. “And the oven is preheated, bring half of your garlic.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a chuckle.
The garlic bread got made quickly and put in the oven, the linguini’s heat was turned down and the sauce was simmering with all of its veggies. I sat down at the table in front of a window, looking out at a dark sky. All I saw was my own reflection, and the backside of Marissa working at the stove.
“The first time Sarah got drunk in college, she called me. It was two in the morning,” Marissa started and stopped on her own. I turned around to see her facing me, saucy spoon in her hand.
“Was she an entertaining drunk?” I asked, encouraging her to keep going. I didn’t tell her about the time Judy and Sarah had visited me in college when they were still in high school.
“She thought she was calling Jack!” she said, laughing. I laughed too. “Before she figured out who she was talking to, she tried to break up with me. I thought she was kidding. But she was serious.”
“Did she ever explain later?” I asked when she paused in her memory.
“No. We never talked about it.”
Marissa kept looking at me, spoon in hand, like she was going to keep talking. But she didn’t.
“The first time I drank—much before college—all I wanted to do was watch The Lion King. I didn’t even like that movie sober!” I told her.
“My first time drinking, I was at my cousin’s wedding and had to get in the back of my parents’ car to go back home! I could barely keep myself from throwing up!”
She turned around mid-laugh, and kept making the sauce.
“More wine?” I asked her and got up to get the bottle. I was just looking for an excuse to get close to her again. And after drinking stories, why wouldn’t she want more?
“Sure! I can handle myself now,” she said laughing.
“I sure hope so! You live around college students, but you aren’t one anymore!” I said and filled her glass, then mine.
I put the bottle back on the counter and walked up behind her, my body lining up with hers. I put my hands around her stomach and kissed the back of her neck, pushing her hair out of the way. She leaned back into my body and turned toward me to kiss me back. Her hands went above my neck and the kissing continued.
“It’s going to burn,” Marissa said with her lips on mine.
“Let it burn.” I couldn’t let her go just because dinner was going to be ruined.
“I’m going to make you wait.” She turned around and forced me to be patient.
“Are you always this teasing?” I asked, my hands still on her shoulders, unable to let go.
“With who? I don’t have anyone to tease!”
I couldn’t have come up with a better answer if I’d tried.
Marissa – October 2009
Coming to Maine was the best decision ever. Sam and I had dinner last night on the deck, under the stars, with candles. It was a little burned, and cold outside, but it was worth it.
I woke up before him and cuddled up next to him in the king size bed in the only bedroom. It had seemed silly for one of us to sleep on the couch. And it was nice to wake up to a warm body on a cold fall morning.
He didn’t wake up when I snuggled up to him, but he put his arm around me and responded to me being close. I could have stayed there all day and listened to the waves.
“Morning,” he eventually whispered in my ear.
I rolled over to look at him, but his eyes were still closed. “Morning,” I whispered back, covering my mouth so I wouldn’t embarrass myself by sharing my morning breath.
“You’re an early riser?” he asked, eyes still closed.
“Usually. But I’m enjoying being lazy and staying in bed with you.”
“Good, I didn’t want you to go anywhere,” he said and pulled me closer.
I rolled back over so I was the small spoon and thought about what could be going on with Jack. I still hadn’t followed pushed Sam to dig into Jack’s whereabouts, but I’d gone back to the house before we’d left for our weekend together.
On my second trip to his house, I still hadn’t found anything that might have belonged to Jack, and I got braver in my searching. There was no car in the garage, no clothes in the closets, and on my last visit, I noticed that the power was off. I hadn’t noticed it the first time I visited because it hadn’t been cold enough to notice there was no heat. With the sun in the middle of the day, the house was warm enough, for New Hampshire standards, to be passable for no one being home.
But on my second visit, it had been later in the afternoon and I’d tried light switches. Nothing worked.
“What do you want for breakfast?” I asked, rolling back over to face his closed eyes.
“I didn’t expect choices.”
“We could have pancakes or eggs and bacon. We have two mornings, so choose wisely.”
“New Hampshire maple syrup?”
“Vermont. I bought some on my drive out to bring home, but this is good enough,” I teased.
“Good enough,” he repeated, or settled for. Everyone was always proud of their state’s maple syrup in New England. “If you make pancakes this morning, I’ll make eggs and bacon tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” I said and climbed out of bed and discretely put on some pants over the shorts I’d slept in. “Coffee too?”
“Yes please.”
Sam still hadn’t opened his eyes.
***
“I have to ask you about Jack,” I finally said as we drank our second cups of coffee on the deck. We were once again in all of the layers of clothing we’d brought.
“I asked Allen about him. He and Krista didn�
��t seem to know anything. They haven’t kept in touch with him—said he hadn’t reached out to them at all and turned them down the first few times they invited him over, so they stopped asking. They hadn’t talked to him for a couple weeks already.”
“I didn’t tell you, but I went back to their house again before we came here,” I started.
“And what’d you find?”
