Life Is A Foreign Language

by Rayne E. Golay

  They walked together, Marley’s hand in hers, and stopped simultaneously on the threshold to Michael’s office, both reluctant to enter. She gave the door a shove and peered inside. Nothing had changed from last time; even the roll of tissue was on the floor where she’d left it last week.

  Nina took the first step into the office, Marley trailing behind.

  “Where would you like to sit?” she asked.

  He pointed. “Is good on the floor.” He sat with arms around his legs, the cap on one knee.

  Nina sat at an angle to him, as before, close enough so he could touch her if he wanted to, but keeping a distance to allow him space.

  “Talk about Mon,” he said.

  “That’s good. Let’s talk about Michael. Do you want to start?”

  For a few moments he was silent, hands hiding his face. When he spoke his voice was low and nasal from tears he tried to suppress. “Why Mon go ‘way, M’am Nina? He no longer loves Marley?”

  Oh dear. “No, Marley, no. He loved you very much. I know because he told me so. He would have wanted to stay. Everybody loved him. It was a stupid accident, that’s all.”

  Most of the hour was spent in silence. Every now and then Marley withdrew inside, then he would ask a question. Whether he heard her answer or not, she couldn’t tell. When they were preparing to leave, he spoke so low she missed it.

  “Sorry, what did you say?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but not a sound issued forth. Tears rolled down his face. He seemed so forlorn and lonely the way he stood, arms hanging at his sides, shoulders stooped. “Mon’s gone. Now Marley has nobody, Marley all alone.”

  She drew close, as close as she dared. “No, that’s not true. You’re part of his family. Michael’s sons are like brothers to you. And you have me. I won’t let you down.”

  He took her hand, holding it against his cheek.

  Nina had put her arms around his frail shoulders. It may not have been the professional thing to do, but her gesture was dictated by a need to comfort him, relieve him from a pain no one so young should know. Michael had been his anchor and center, the only one Marley had known. Having lost that, he was floundering. Arrangements had to be made for him, immediately.

  Later, over dinner in Brian’s home with Peter, Chris and their wives present, Nina had brought up the subject. They all agreed that Marley should live with one or the other of them. The foster parents were good people, but with Michael gone from his life, Marley needed an attachment to Michael’s family. The decision was really very simple; Marley was to live with Peter and Ally, an arrangement that would benefit everybody. Their two sons would be a good influence on Marley. They knew each other and were buddies. Ally was fond of Marley, glad to take him in. Peter would talk to him the very next day and if things worked out, they would take the necessary legal action to change foster homes.

  Nina returned to France. While she prepared for the trip—buying presents and seeing to her wardrobe for a cooler climate—those were moments she didn’t spend in tormenting grief, cold from sadness, waiting for him, hearing his voice. Michael left a void, making the longing for her children and granddaughters even more poignant. The need to be with her children and the twins was like a physical craving, urgent and strong.

  The day before boarding the plane for the long trip to France, Nina mailed the manuscript of her novel to Nicholson Publishing House. About to hand over the carton with it’s contents to the postal employee, she stood with eyes half closed, holding on to it an instant longer, saying a silent prayer that the publisher would like her work enough to publish it.

  Annecy was lovely in June. Nature dressed early summer in its loveliest, most vibrant colors. Nina breathed deeply of the smell of damp earth following a rain shower.

  It was strange not to have a home to go to in her hometown. She planned to take a hotel room, but Lillian and Jean-Luc, as well as the twins were insistent that she stay in their guestroom. At first she found it difficult to adjust to being a guest, to live with other people, but after the first awkward moments, she found comfort in their presence and love.

  Nina enjoyed getting up in the mornings, preparing the twins’ breakfast, spending the day going to the lake, a picnic in the hills, weather permitting. On rainy days she lit a fire; gathered around the fireplace they took turns reading aloud. They browsed the flea market, playing guessing games about the provenance of the people speaking foreign languages. They had ice cream at a small table in a street café by the canal—privileged moments when everything was almost normal, and Nina smiled and joked with the girls as before.

  Underneath the smiling and carefree front she wished she could stay in bed for a day, for a week, until Michael returned. In the daytime her family created a diversion—at night she hid her face in the pillow to muffle the soul wrenching sobs. She dreamt of Michael, saw his dancing eyes, felt his warm hands hold her. Upon awakening she was thrust into the pit of bottomless despair to realize he was gone, really gone for good. My feelings can’t adjust to it, it’s too much for my mind to grasp. All I know is I want him back.

  From time to time Nina would think about her novel, imagining Mr. Helman reading it. On one such occasion, strolling in the yard with Lillian she stopped walking, eyes lost in the greenery of the forest near by.

  Concern was etched on Lillian’s furrowed brow as she put a hand on Nina’s arm. “What’s the matter, Mami? Are you all right?”

  She nodded, smiling. “Yes, I’m fine. Since I mailed my novel to Nicholson Publishing before I left for France I’ve been worried that they may reject it. It’s more important to me than I realized that Mr. Helman will like it.”

  “He’ll like it if it’s nearly as good as your two non-fiction books.”

  She pressed her cheek against Lillian’s. “Thanks for the encouraging words, chérie.”

  Natalie and Morgan were excited about their forthcoming trip to Florida.

  They sat in the sun at a sidewalk café having pastries and tea. Morgan brushed strands of wheat blond hair off her forehead and ran her hand up and down Nina’s arm. “Mami, we could get our driver’s licenses in Cape Coral, couldn’t we?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll find out. There are so many things I want to show you. We’ll go on a tour of the Everglades. I’d like to take you down to Key West to go snorkeling. There’s Epcot Center, Walt Disney and so much more for you to see and experience.

  “You’ll meet Michael’s son, Brian.” Nina ate a forkful of her pastry. “He and his wife have just had a baby girl, Michaela.”

  Natalie’s eyes sparkled. “Awesome! Do you think we get to baby-sit?”

  “I think Samantha might let you. Anyway, Brian owns a yacht, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to take us to the Gulf of Mexico. If we’re lucky, we may see dolphins. I’ve been told it’s such a great experience to race them in the boat. They’re so sleek and beautiful—they come so close you can almost touch them.”

  “Haven’t you seen them, Mami?” Natalie asked.

  “No, I’ve not been that lucky. Maybe this time.”

  Nina was a surprised to find that she was making plans. It meant she dared look ahead to a future without Michael.

  During her weeks in Annecy, Nina’s foremost priority was the cementing of her relationship with Lillian. She took every opportunity to spend time with her daughter; she met her after work for a drink in town before heading home. If Jean-Luc was absent, Nina requested that Lillian join her for dinner in one of their favorite restaurants. Sometimes she cooked one of her specialties—shrimp marinated in garlic and spices, or chicken flavored with citronella and green curry—having a cozy supper in the living room in front of a blazing fire. At first, Lillian was stiff and somewhat distant. Nina guessed that she didn’t quite know how to deal with her mother in the role of the grieving lover.

  “Lillian,�
�� she said one Sunday afternoon. They were having tea in the kitchen, Jean-Luc and the twins gone to attend a ballet matinee. “You don’t need to be afraid to talk about Michael, you know.”

  Lillian glanced at her, looked into her teacup and nodded. “Are you sure it’s good for you to talk about him? I mean, it’s still so fresh, the pain must be awful.”

  Nina nodded. “You’re right, the pain is crushing, but it’s healthy to get it out.”

  “Do you want to tell me about Michael?”

  So Nina told Lillian—about the way they met when she fell off the ladder. She talked about his attentiveness and loving ways, his spirituality, his care of the clinic and its patients. While she talked, she relived incidents she’d shared with Michael. She told Lillian about his passion for roses, about the Festival and his triumph. Recounting certain episodes of their short time together, bringing back memories of Michael put another layer of scab on Nina’s wound, and she felt closer to Lillian, respectful of Nina’s hurt, understanding of the great loss she had sustained.

  On one of Nina’s last nights they were tidying the kitchen together. Nina wiped off the counter while Lillian swept the floor.

  “Let’s take a break,” Nina said. “I’m leaving soon, who knows when we’ll have an opportunity to talk face to face. Know that I’m there for you if you need me.” She took a few steps closer to Lillian and held out her arms. “Come here. Let me hug you. I love you very much. I want to thank you for your generosity and warmth during my stay. You’ve all been wonderful to me.”

  Strong, stubborn, proud Lillian wrapped her arms around Nina, hugged and sobbed. “Mami, there are no words to express how grateful I am that we’ve had this time together. I’ve discovered what a great and courageous woman you are. I hope to resemble you one day.”

  Leaving her family was every bit as painful as Nina had expected. She was grateful she had an early morning flight from Geneva. She wanted to spare them and herself last minute leave-taking. They said their good-byes the evening before, and Nina let herself out of the house while everybody was still asleep, walking on tiptoe to Danny waiting for her in his car by the front gate.

  Danny drove her to the Geneva airport, chatting aimlessly during the ride. At the airport he was strong when he put his arms around her before she went through passport control.

  “Happy landing, Mami. Call me when you get in so I know you made it back safely.”

  She nodded.

  “If you need me, if you feel lonely, I’ll be right over. Don’t feel you have to be brave.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I love you, Mami. So very much.”

  She brushed away her tears. “I love you too, cheri.”

  Without looking back she turned, showed her passport for a cursory inspection and walked through security check. She found a restroom, locked the door to a stall, leaned against the wall and cried.

  Contrary to her habit, Nina flew Business Class to Miami. Emotionally spent, tearful and sad, she wanted to be comfortable and needed privacy that the narrow seating in Economy didn’t permit. When the meal was served, she ate a few forkfuls of the salad and a small piece of cheese. She drank a glass of white wine and tried to nap. Her thoughts drifted. Images scrolled behind closed eyelids—the twins’ laughing faces, Lillian’s eyes filled with tears of compassion when Nina talked about Michael. Her and Michael’s many thwarted plans. They never attended Oren’s meditation group together, never returned to Bokeelia in daylight to browse the art stores, never saw the sunset from Michael’s yacht. Apart from dancing that night on her lanai when he first kissed her, they never went ballroom dancing.

  Time had run out so fast.

  As agreed, Brian met Nina’s plane. She saw him, and her mind went blank—his resemblance to Michael was striking. It was in his prematurely grey hair highlighted by the sun, in his dancing, glittering blue eyes, and in the way he had of looking from under his brow. Then the illusion disappeared. She sighed and smiled at him.

  With an arm around her shoulders he hugged her briefly. “Hi. Welcome home.”

  “Thanks. How are you? How are Samantha and Michaela? And Cindy?”

  “Good. They’re doing well. Mom returned to Minnesota, glad to get away from the heat and the bugs.” He grinned. “It was great having her with us, but we discovered Samantha could manage very well. Michaela is a good baby. How was your trip?”

  “I had a nice visit. Did me good to be with my children and the grandkids. I feel like a rootless plant without them. Still, I wouldn’t go back to live there. I find it stifling, and the climate’s too awful.”

  He chuckled. “Good for us. We love having you. Now that Mom’s left, it’s a bit empty.” He looked down on the floor, shoulders stooped.

  Gently she brought his hand to her face and rubbed her cheek against it. “I know, Brian. It’s so indescribably tough. We have to stick together. Michael would expect that of us.” She spotted her suitcase on the carrousel and made a dash for it.

  Walking to his car, Brian carrying her bag, he glanced at her. “Where do you want to go? Home or a hotel?”

  “Home, Brian. It’s time I went home.”

  “Good for you. You have to take that step sooner or later. The longer you wait the harder it gets.”

  “Yes. Michael will always be with me, no matter where I am. I’ll always love him. With time I may accept that he’s gone from me.”

  The wound was so fresh—she still cried when she talked about him, but she had to talk.

  “We have to help each other heal,” she said. “He won’t have peace as long as I hang on to him, so I practice letting go. A little at a time. This is one of the things I learned from Michael, to let go, a bit at a time.”

  “You’re right, Nina. We all have to virtually remove our hands from Dad’s casket.”

  It was early evening when Brian parked in her driveway, that magical hour when the last rays of the sun bathed the world in hues of orange and deep copper, the sky crimson. It was the time of day she loved so much, when she used to sit on the lanai waiting for Michael, or he had already arrived, and they would have a drink together.

  She opened the front door. Brian preceded her inside, put her suitcase on the floor, and went from window to window to open the blinds. From the living room she saw her bedroom filled with gold from the last rays of sunlight. Memories lurched in every corner; Michael cooking shrimp for her, the many things they shared, their impromptu meal in bed one lazy evening. She imagined she could hear him laugh low in his throat, smell cigarette smoke on the air although he never smoked inside.

  Brian glanced at her. “In case you decided to come home rather than a hotel, we had our cleaning lady do some dusting and wash the bathrooms. She’s put clean sheets on your bed and there’s some food and drinks in the fridge.”

  “Oh Brian, thank you so much.”

  Dear Brian, so considerate and kind, just like Michael. But no, not like Michael. She must learn not to compare any of them to him.

  Brian touched her arm. “Would you like to come over for a drink, say hi to Samantha?”

  “I’ll take a rain check. I’m tired and I have to get used to being alone in the house. I’ll come tomorrow. Then we’ll talk. Give Samantha a hug and a kiss to Michaela.”

  After Brian left, she toured her home, walking from room to room. It was cool and smelled clean. She took the suitcase into her bedroom. In a frame on the bedside table was a snapshot of Michael and her, one she hadn’t seen before. Picking it up, she studied the photo. It showed him in profile, holding his arm around her shoulders, while she hugged the huge bouquet of roses, head tilted back to gaze into his eyes, happiness manifest in their broad smiles. Before setting the picture down, she touched his face with the tip of her finger.

  Although she was tired, she unpacked, tidied up, and had a shower. Remem
bering her promise to Danny, she phoned him to tell him she’d arrived.

  “I’m staying in the house. This is my home now, and I’ve been away far too long.”

  “That’s good, Mami. I’m glad you’re on your own turf. Take care, you hear.”

  After the call, she went to sit on the lanai, thinking wistfully back on her arrival in her new home only a few months ago.

  In that short time she had lived a love and a lifetime.

  While she had been busy inside, night had fallen. The familiar concert of crickets and frogs reminded her of other nights here. Everything reminded her.

  On the lanai on this dark night, the wind was still, the humidity high. Michael felt close.

  When she leaned forward to light a candle on the table she saw it—the bouquet of the “Nina Brochard” roses he gave her when he asked her to marry him. Nina guessed that Samantha had dried the flowers and placed them in an earthenware vase on the table next to the candleholders.

  Since her arrival, Nina had been brave, keeping busy and holding it all together. The sight of the roses was more than she could bear. On the table, she leaned her face on her arms and cried.

  Had she been wise to come back here?

  Chapter 42

  Towards the afternoon the next day when the doorbell rang, Nina opened to let Brian in. He touched his cheek to hers. “I’m home early from work. Come on over.”

  “I saw your car in your driveway, but wanted to give you time to unwind. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  From her bedroom she collected a canvas bag stuffed with things she’d brought from France. They were small gifts of no consequence, except she’d taken pleasure in choosing and looked forward to offering them. A little something for everybody; chocolates from Switzerland, perfume, embroidered place mats.

  Most of the gifts were for Michaela. She was only a few days old when Nina last saw her, and she didn’t have a clear recollection of the baby, only that she was tiny.

  Both Samantha and Brian treated Nina like family. They went about their business and didn’t fuss over her.