Unexpected

by Faith Sullivan

  Driving across the Brooklyn Bridge, I gaze straight ahead, trying not to look back at Ground Zero. Connor doesn’t speak until we cross into the other borough. We don’t mention it, but it’s there. And for the moment it’s okay that we don’t talk about it. So much is in flux right now. It’s better if we only focus on one thing at a time.

  Weaving through the traffic, Connor remains quiet. I can only imagine what’s going through his head. Removing my sunglasses, I pat his arm. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “And if it’s not?” He puts on his turn signal before making a right.

  “Then it’s his fault, not yours.” I give him a reassuring squeeze.

  Pulling up to a line of row houses, Connor backs into the last remaining parking space. “They live down the block, but I don’t see anything closer.”

  Opening the door of the truck, I wait for Connor on the sidewalk. It feels strange to be back in New York. It’s weird to see people milling around me when I’ve gone days without encountering anyone besides Connor. Culture shock is definitely setting in.

  Connor takes my hand and carries a cheesecake box with the other. He thought it’d make a nice peace offering to his dad, being that it’s his favorite. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little worried about how this is all going to play out, but I have faith in Connor. He’s not the same guy who stormed out of the restaurant in Midtown.

  Walking up the stone steps, I press the doorbell. Before I can even take my finger off the button, Connor’s mother throws open the front door. Embracing her son, she leans over to give me a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ve been waiting all morning for you. Come in, come in.”

  The hallway is narrow and the tiny foyer abuts the staircase leading to the second floor bedrooms. A living room with a large bay window is immediately to our left. Looking in, I see Connor’s father in a recliner watching TV. He and Connor lock eyes. For one terrible minute, I think they’re going to ignore each other, but Connor takes the initiative. Handing me the box of cheesecake, he strides into the room and sits on the couch.

  “Dad.”

  “Connor.”

  Nothing more is said, but Connor’s mom wipes her hand dramatically across her brow. “C’mon, Michelle. You can help me get things ready in the kitchen.”

  ***

  After a delicious meal, we’re back on the road. Maria said while we’re in the city we can stay in Connor’s old room above the pub. As a part of her grand re-opening, she’s holding a special gathering for members of the support group tomorrow night. It’s going to be an emotionally challenging day, and I’m glad we’ll be here to mark the first anniversary with them.

  “Your dad is taking it better than I expected.” I glance at his profile.

  “I think he’s just going easy on me given what tomorrow is, but he’s coming around.” At the traffic light, he pulls a cigarette from behind the visor and reaches for his lighter in the cup holder. Rolling the window down a crack, he takes a drag and exhales. He hasn’t smoked in quite a while, but the day has taken its toll.

  Soon the familiar awning is in view. Turning into the adjacent alley, I notice how different the vibe is from when I first arrived. I was so scared and unsure of what I was doing back in New York. I hardly knew Connor then and I was going on gut instinct alone. Now I truly feel like my life belongs somewhere else. I can finally let go of New York. Like ripping off a band-aid, coming to that realization only hurts for the moment.

  Standing before the door, Connor pulls his keys out of his pocket. His eyes are lowered. His body language is tense.

  “Talk to me,” I urge, touching his arm. “Was it a bad idea coming back here?”

  He doesn’t answer. Instead he turns the key in the lock, and we enter the bar that’s draped in total darkness. Only one of the neon beer signs is lit. He scans the room as if searching for something he can’t quite find. “Yeah, it’ll be okay. I think I need some sense of closure anyway,” he remarks, guiding me toward the stairs.

  Making the ascent, our footsteps echo through the empty building. I never noticed it before, but it really does feel haunted. I don’t how Connor stayed here by himself before I arrived. I can see how the desolate atmosphere could get under someone’s skin.

  As if thinking the same thing, he puts his arm though mine as we move down the hallway toward his room. It’s pretty empty except for the bed and what remains of the furniture. Maria packed up all of Connor’s personal belongings and sent them ahead. Now it’s just a shell of what it used to be.

  I turn down the bed and start unpacking our overnight bag. Stuffing our toiletries in my arms, I take off my shoes and head for the bathroom. Lining the sink with bottles of shaving cream, mouthwash, etc., I turn on the tap to get the hot water going. Memories of the night we spent in here after the bar fight come flooding back. It’s amazing how much has happened since then.

  After completing my nightly ritual, I find Connor already in bed staring at the ceiling. Quickly slipping into one of his undershirts, I climb in next to him. I’m totally depleted. I want nothing more than to curl up next to him and fall asleep.

  Throwing my arm across his chest, I snuggle up beside him as he wraps himself around me. Wanting to ease his inner turmoil, I tilt my head, bestowing a quick kiss on his shoulder.

  He laughs. “What’s that for?”

  “Just letting you know that I love you.”

  Stroking my hair, he rubs my temple with his thumb. I can feel his muscles relax. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  It’s not even dawn when Connor gets out of bed. The wind is kicking up outside as the windowpanes rattle. I can hear him rustle into his jeans. The clink of his belt buckle grows fainter as he heads toward the bathroom. Soon, the shower is running and I fall back to sleep.

  A mighty gust startles me hours later. The sun is up, but there’s no sign of Connor. My ears are greeted with nothing but the wind. Am I here alone? Where did he go? Rolling over, I spy a note on the bureau. Written on the back of a gas station receipt are the words, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be back. Had to go do something.’

  Rubbing my eyes, I groan and sink back onto the bed. Could he be more vague? I knew today was going to be extremely hard for him, but I thought we’d face it together. I didn’t think he’d turn and run. It makes me nervous thinking he’s out in the city somewhere by himself in an unstable frame of mind. Especially since I wanted to keep an eye on him today.

  Digging through our bag, I remove a comfy sweater and a pair of black pants. It’s going to be a long day, and I don’t know if I’ll have time to change later. I might as well dress nice right from the start. Fastening my hair in a loose braid, I slip on a pair of gold hoop earrings and lace up my boots. After brushing my teeth and applying some makeup, I proceed downstairs.

  Glancing at the clock, I see it’s past eight-thirty. Turning on the lights in the kitchen, I hunt through the refrigerator. It’s pretty stocked for tonight’s event. I locate a carton of orange juice and pop two slices of bread into the toaster. Walking back out to the bar, I turn on the TV. Sitting down with my breakfast, I hear the newscasters readying the audience for the first moment of silence. Victims’ families are shown gathered at Ground Zero. My stomach clenches and I don’t want to watch this, but I feel like I have to. I’m riveted to the screen.

  Hours pass. President George W. Bush gives an address. The names of the victims are read one by one. The coverage rotates to memorial services at the Pentagon and Shanksville, Pennsylvania, the field where United 93 went down. Returning to Lower Manhattan, those participating file in and form a circle in the cavern below street level.

  Tears stream down my face, and I don’t even know they’re falling. An ache throbs through my heart. The wind continues to roar and throughout the live broadcast I watch the dust swirl at Ground Zero. It blankets those taking part in the ceremony down in the monstrous crater. People start shielding their eyes and covering their mouths. Their actions mimicking those fl
eeing the towers’ collapse a year ago.

  As the clock strikes two, I reach for the remote and turn off the TV. I’m oversaturated with emotions I don’t quite know how to begin to analyze. Taking my dirty dishes back to the kitchen, I rinse them off before putting them in the dishwasher. I’m functioning robotically, my mind disconnected from my body.

  I didn’t think I’d have to spend this day by myself. I thought we’d be able to support each other, not deal with things separately. My head is starting to pound. Maybe I’ll go upstairs and rest my eyes for a little bit. I don’t have the energy to attempt to do anything else. Any motivation I possess to pull myself out of this funk is at an all-time low. I just want to disappear from the world for a while.

  Reclining on the unmade bed, I bury myself under the covers, tossing them over my head. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to act. I don’t want to remember. I just want this day to pass as quickly as it can.

  ***

  There’s commotion downstairs. Blinking, it takes me a moment to acclimate myself to my surroundings again. There’s someone moving about in the room, and judging from the smell of Old Spice, it’s Connor. He’s back.

  I don’t know if I should be mad at him or not. I guess I’ll give him a chance to explain. Hear what he has to say.

  With a sudden movement, I jump off the bed. He’s bending down, tying his shoes, and he looks up, startled. My face is flushed, and I’m overheated after being wrapped in the blankets. My hair’s come loose and is sticking out at odd angles. My unkempt appearance causes him to raise an eyebrow. “Sleep well?” he asks before turning his attention back to his shoes.

  “Where the hell were you?” I don’t say it with any hostility, but he gets my drift.

  “I went to Ground Zero.”

  I am truly at a loss for words. My mouth drops open.

  “Miguel went with me. We watched from the sidelines, and then after it was all over I met with Danny’s family for a little while. They were pretty shaken up. I wanted to be there for them.” His eyes are red and swollen, and his voice is raw. I can tell he’s been crying.

  Easing closer to him, I notice a fine layer of dust coating his hair. Retrieving a comb from my purse, I begin cleaning him up. It’s after five o’clock and the members of the support group are starting to arrive. I want him to look presentable, realizing he’s spent and probably hasn’t even look in a mirror since he returned.

  His dark brown hair is thick and combing it brings out its luster. I like taking care of him like this. I wish I had time to give him a good shampoo, but my efforts are going to have to suffice. His face is freshly shaven, and he seems somewhat revived. He’s not at his best, but then again neither am I.

  “I think you need the comb more than I do.” His eyes crinkle into a smile. He’s trying. He’s on the brink, but so far he’s holding on.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty much a mess.” I give a tiny laugh and he gives me a tender kiss on the cheek.

  Unsure of how far I want to press the matter, I say, “So you went with Miguel.”

  He looks at me with concern. His brow furrowed. “Michelle, trust me. It wasn’t the place for you.”

  He’s aware of how my last visit to Ground Zero affected me, so I don’t protest his claim, but it doesn’t make me feel good either.

  “Deep down, I didn’t want to be there, but something inside me just wouldn’t let it go. When I talked to Miguel last week about the generator for the cabin, he mentioned that he might be going to the memorial service, and if I wanted to go with him I could.” Unconsciously messing his freshly combed hair, he tries to help me understand his reasoning. “It was a last minute decision. I couldn’t sleep, and I was dreading today. So I just got up and went.”

  Clasping his hand, I give it a squeeze. “I get it. I just wish you’d have told me, that’s all. I was worried about you, and I didn’t want either of us having to face the day alone.”

  He pulls me into his arms, hugging me like he’ll never let go. “I wasn’t even thinking straight, Michelle. I didn’t mean to leave you on your own like that. I didn’t think I’d be gone that long.”

  Nestling against his chest, I exhale. “As long as you’re here now.”

  “I’ll be here forever, baby. I promise.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  The tranquility of our lakeside abode is just what we need after making it through the first anniversary. Our spirits lift when we hit the dirt road leading to our tiny cabin. It’s small, but it’s ours. It’s truly become what we think of as home.

  We return to the rhythm of our new life after wrapping up the loose ends connecting us to our old one. It’s bittersweet saying goodbye to who we once were. Cutting ties is never easy, but with a newfound sense of release, we feel lighter. Nothing is weighing us down, holding us back from what we can become.

  And while it hurts leaving the people we love behind, it won’t be for too long. We have a wedding to plan, and we can’t wait to gather everyone together under far more joyous circumstances the next time we meet.

  The autumn days pass as the leaves begin to fall. The woods are awash in vibrant color. The ground starts to harden and the breeze takes on a bitter chill. Hunkering down for the winter, Connor finds work at a larger resort that maintains a steady client base year round, and I secure employment in of all places, a cheesecake shop. They’re busy during the holidays so they take me on part-time until the spring semester starts in January. Needless to say, Connor’s father has received quite a few packages from me since I started working there. He’s even called me a few times to thank me himself.

  I never thought I’d say this, but I’m excited about going back to school. I’m debating whether to pursue a business degree or look into the hotel and restaurant management program. I want to test things out before I commit. Either one will certainly aid in my future career prospects in an area booming with vacationers. Being practical suits me now. Connor and I are in this together, and I want to support him as much as I can. We have dreams of adding on to the cabin, especially if the pitter-patter of little feet is in our future. Yep, I ended up back in Pennsylvania to pop out a couple of kids. Who would’ve thought?

  My parents are thrilled that I’m resuming my studies. They weren’t even disappointed when I told them where. For the first time in my life, I feel I don’t have to be at the top of the class in order to gain their approval. They just want me to be happy, even if Mom still gets claustrophobic when she visits our cabin.

  Planning for our summer wedding is underway. We’re getting married on the Fourth of July, which is kind of appropriate given our track record. I still get fired up when I think about how we spent the holiday last year. Keeping things small and intimate, we’re renting a tent and inviting a dozen or so guests to the cabin. We can’t afford much more, and it’ll be the perfect opportunity to invite everybody over. Since we live in pretty tight quarters, everyone can spread out and enjoy the great outdoors.

  Emily is searching the entire city for my wedding dress, and she’s already flooding my inbox with options. To provide the alcohol for our reception, she plans on driving her husband to the ceremony in her delivery truck—even if she’s in the ninth month of her pregnancy.

  Tammy is still working with Maria at the pub, even though they butted heads in the beginning. However, she developed a deeper appreciation for her new boss when Maria used a baseball bat to stop an impending brawl. When Samuel quit, they bonded even more. Now the two of them are teaming up to do my hair and nails for the wedding.

  I uncork a bottle of champagne and immerse myself in the starry night. It’s a special occasion. Being that it’s New Year’s Eve, we’re celebrating an anniversary of sorts. It’s one year ago today that we met. It seems so long ago. I feel like I’ve known Connor forever, and maybe deep down I have. He found me when I needed him the most. He’s the light that’s guided me to where I am now, out of the darkness, out of despair.

  I bundle myself up in my puffy coat and
hold the opened bottle in my mitten-covered hands. Closing the door, I skip down the porch steps and head for the dock. The lake is not yet frozen, and my fiancé is already there waiting. His broad shoulders are silhouetted against the beam of my flashlight.

  Getting in the canoe, he extends his hand to help me in. Careful not to tip us into the frigid water, I take my place across from him as he begins rowing toward the center of the lake. Since the moon it waning, it’s pretty dark. The wind whipping through the barren trees and the rhythm of Connor’s paddling are the only sounds I hear.

  Reaching our destination, Connor pulls up the oars and I offer him the bottle for his labor. He takes a swig before handing it back to me as I follow suit. Leaning back, he invites me to sit between his legs. Keeping the boat as steady as I can, I position myself against him, reveling in his warmth.

  Our breath is visible on the air, but being next to him, I don’t feel cold. I feel alive. I feel awake. I feel complete.

  “Having second thoughts?” he asks.

  I laugh, touched that he remembered the first words he ever spoke to me, sitting outside that party, waiting for me to arrive.

  “Whoever thought you were such a romantic.” This gets a chuckle out of him.

  As midnight descends, a firework lights up the sky miles away. I take it as a good omen. Sometimes the best things in life are unexpected.

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