“I hope you'll come and see us often. In spite of my cooking,” she laughed.
“I'll take you out to dinner,” he teased her, but he meant it. He was enjoying the prospect. It was something to look forward to and soften the blow of their leaving, which he knew would hit him like a sledgehammer the next morning. “What are you going to do with yourself when Pip goes back to school?” he asked, looking concerned about her. He knew it would be lonely for her. She wasn't used to having as much time on her hands as she did now with only Pip to care for. She was used to having two children, and a husband.
“I may take your advice and look into some volunteer work at a homeless shelter.” She had fun reading the material Blake Thompson, the leader of the group, had given her. It seemed interesting and appealed to her.
“That would be good for you. And you can always come out here and have lunch with me, if you have nothing else to do. It's pretty here in the winter.” She liked it too. She loved the beach at all times of the year, and it was an appealing invitation. She liked the idea of maintaining their friendship. And whatever Andrea thought of it, it suited both of them, and was what they wanted.
“I'd like that.” Ophélie smiled at him.
“Are you happy to be going back?” he asked, and she stared into the fire and looked pensive, thinking about it.
“No, I'm not. I hate going back to the house, although until now, I've always liked it. But it's so empty now. It's too big for the two of us, but it's familiar. I didn't want to make any hasty decisions last year that I'd regret later.” She didn't tell him that their bedroom closets were still full of Ted's clothes, and all of Chad's things were in his bedroom. She had touched nothing, and knowing that they were there depressed her. But she couldn't bring herself to part with them. Andrea had already told her it was unhealthy, but for now at least, it was what Ophélie wanted. She wasn't ready to make changes, or she hadn't been. She wondered if she'd feel differently now, after the summer. She didn't know yet.
“I think you were smart not to do anything too quickly. You can always sell the house, if you really want to. It's probably good for Pip not to have the trauma of moving. That would be a big change for her, if you've lived there for a long time.”
“Since she was six, and she loves it. More than I do.”
They sat quietly then for a while, enjoying each other's company, even in silence. And when he finished his wine, he stood up, and she joined him. By then, the fire was slowly dying.
“I'll call you next week,” he said, and it reassured her. He was a solid, reliable male presence in her life, like a brother. “Call if you need anything, or if there's anything I can do for you or Pip.” He knew he'd worry about them.
“Thank you, Matt,” she said gently. “For everything. You've been a wonderful friend, to both of us.”
“I intend to stay that way,” he said, and put an arm around her as she walked him to his car.
“So do we. Take care of yourself. Don't be too lonely out here, it's not good for you. Come to see us in the city, it will distract you.” Now that she knew more about his life, she could imagine how alone he must feel at times, just as she did. So many people they had loved and cared about had left their lives, through death and divorce, and circumstances that neither of them had wanted. The tides of life that swept away people and places and cherished moments all too quickly, just as the ocean had swept away the boy they'd saved only days before.
“Goodnight,” he said softly, not knowing what else to say to her. He waved as he drove away, and watched her walk back into the house, and then he drove back to his bungalow down the beach, wishing that he were braver, and that life were different than it was.
12
“GOOD-BYE, HOUSE,” PIP SAID SOLEMNLY AS THEY LEFT it. Ophélie locked the door, and dropped the keys in the mail slot at the realtor's on the way out. The summer was over. And as they drove past the narrow winding street that Matt lived on, Pip was strangely silent. She didn't speak until they were on the bridge, and then she turned to her mother. “Why don't you like him?” she said almost angrily. Her tone was an accusation. Ophélie had no idea who she was talking about.
“Like who?”
“Matt. I think he likes you.” Pip was glaring at her, and totally confusing her mother.
“I like him too. What are you talking about?”
“I mean like a man… you know… like a boyfriend.”
They were nearly at the tollbooth, and Ophélie was fumbling for her money, and then glanced at her daughter. “I don't want a boyfriend. I'm a married woman,” she said firmly, as she found the money.
“No, you're not. You're a widow.”
“That's the same thing. Nearly. Whatever brought this on? And no, I don't think he likes me ‘as a girlfriend.’ And if he did, it wouldn't make a difference. He's our friend, Pip. Let's not spoil that.”
“Why would it spoil it?” She sounded stubborn. She had been thinking about it all morning. And she already missed him.
“It just would. Trust me. I'm a grown-up. I know. If we got involved, someone would get hurt or upset about something, and then it would be all over.”
“Does someone always get hurt?” Pip looked disappointed. This was not encouraging information.
“Almost always. And then you don't like each other anymore, and you don't get to stay friends. And he wouldn't see you. Think how sad that would be.” Ophélie was very definite in her opinion on the subject.
“What if you got married? Then none of that would happen.”
“I don't want to get married again. And neither does he. He got very badly hurt when his wife left him.”
“Did he tell you that? About not wanting to get married again?” Pip sounded suspicious. It didn't sound likely to her.
“More or less. We talked about his marriage and divorce. It sounded very traumatic.”
“Did he ask you to marry him?” She looked suddenly hopeful.
“Of course not. Don't be silly.” It was a ridiculous conversation, from Ophélie's perspective.
“Then how do you know that's how he feels?”
“I just know it. Besides, I don't want to get remarried. I still feel married to your father.” It sounded noble to her, but it made Pip angry, which surprised her mother.
“Well, he's dead, and he's not coming back. I think you should marry Matt, and then we could keep him.”
“He may not want to be ‘kept,’ never mind how I feel. Why don't you marry him? I think he would suit you.” She was teasing her, in order to end the awkward moment. She didn't like being told that Ted was dead and never coming back. It was all she thought about, and had for the last eleven months. It was hard to believe it was almost a year now. In some ways it felt like forever, in others like only minutes.
“I think he would suit me too,” Pip said sensibly, “which is why you have to marry him.”
“Maybe he'd like Andrea,” Ophélie said to distract her, but crazier things had happened. She suddenly wondered if she should introduce them, but Pip had an instant and very negative opinion. Besides, she didn't want to lose him. She wanted Matt for them.
“No, he wouldn't,” Pip said firmly. “He'd hate her. She's too strong for him. She likes to tell everyone what to do, including men. That's why they always leave her.” It was an interesting assessment, and Ophélie knew her daughter wasn't entirely mistaken. Pip had overheard a lot of conversations between her parents about Andrea over the years, and had figured some of it out herself. Andrea had a way of emasculating men, and she was too independent, which was why she'd had to go to a sperm bank for a baby. No man so far had wanted to get that closely entangled with her. But it was an amazing perception for a child Pip's age, and Ophélie didn't disagree with her, although she didn't say it. But she was impressed by her wisdom. “He'd be much happier with you, and me,” Pip said modestly, and then giggled. “Maybe we should ask him the next time we see him.”
“I'm sure he'd love that. Why don't we ju
st tell him. Or order him to marry us. That would do it.” Ophélie smiled too.
“Yeah,” Pip grinned, “I like that.” She squinted her eyes in the sun, thinking about it. She looked delighted.
“You're a little monster,” her mother teased her, and a few minutes later, they got home, and Ophélie unlocked the door. She hadn't been to the house in three months. She had purposely avoided it whenever she came into the city, and had had their mail forwarded all summer to Safe Harbour. It was the first time she'd been back since they left it. And the reality of their situation hit her like an express train as they entered. She had somehow allowed herself to believe, in the back of her mind, that when they came back, Ted and Chad would be there, waiting for them. As though this had been a trip, and the agony of the last year had been a bad joke. Chad would come down the stairs, grinning at her, and Ted would be standing in their bedroom doorway, waiting for her with that look that still turned her stomach upside down and her knees to jelly. The chemistry between them had been powerful for their entire marriage. But the house was empty. There was no escaping the truth. She and Pip were alone forever.
They both stood in the front door, as the same realization hit them at the same time, and their eyes filled with tears as they held each other.
“I hate it here,” Pip said softly, as they clung to each other.
“So do I,” her mother whispered.
Neither of them wanted to go upstairs or to their respective bedrooms. The reality of it was just too awful. And for the moment, Matt was forgotten. He had his own life, his own world. And they had theirs. There was no hiding from it.
Ophélie went out to the car and unloaded the bags, and Pip helped her drag them up the stairs. Even that was hard for them. They were both small and the bags were heavy, and there was no one to help them. Ophélie was breathless as she set both of Pip's bags down in her bedroom.
“I'll unpack for you in a minute,” Ophélie said, trying to hang on to the steps she'd made over the summer, but she felt down a black hole again the moment they were back in the house she had once shared with her son and husband. It was as though the healing months at Safe Harbour had never happened.
“I can do it myself, Mom,” Pip said sadly. She felt it too. In some ways it was worse now. Ophélie was more alive again, and had feelings. The year of the robot had been better.
Ophélie dragged her own bags upstairs then, and her heart sank as she opened the closet. It was all still there. Every jacket, every suit, every shirt, every tie, all the shoes he had worn, even the old battered loafers he wore on weekends, that he'd had since Harvard. It was like reliving a nightmare. And she didn't even dare go into Chad's room, she knew it would kill her. This was bad enough, and as she unpacked her things, she could feel herself slipping backward. It was frightening.
By dinnertime, they were both silent and pale and exhausted, and they both jumped when the phone rang. They had just decided not to eat dinner for the moment, although Ophélie knew the child had to eat at some point, hungry or not. In her own case, she never hesitated to miss a meal.
Ophélie didn't move, there was no one she wanted to speak to, so Pip answered. And her face brightened slowly when she heard his voice.
“Hi, Matt. It's okay,” she said in answer to his question, but he could hear in her voice that it wasn't, and then as her mother watched, she started crying. “No, it isn't, it's awful. It's horrible here. We hate it.” She included her mother in the statement, and Ophélie thought of stopping her, and then didn't. If he was to be their friend, he might as well know how bad it was.
Pip listened for a long time and kept nodding, but at least the tears had stopped. She sat down on a kitchen chair as she listened. “Okay. I'll try. I'll tell my mother…I can't…I have to go to school tomorrow. When are you coming?” Whatever he had said at the other end, Ophélie saw that she looked pleased with the answer. “Okay… I'll ask her …” She turned to Ophélie then with her hand discreetly over the mouthpiece. “Do you want to talk to him?” But Ophélie shook her head and whispered.
“Tell him I'm busy.” She didn't want to talk to anyone. She was too unhappy. And she knew she couldn't fake being cheerful. It was one thing for Pip to cry on his shoulder, but she couldn't. It didn't seem appropriate for her to do that, and she didn't want to.
“Okay,” Pip said to Matt again, “I'll tell her. I'll call you tomorrow.” Ophélie was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of daily contact with Matt, but maybe there was no harm in it. Whatever gave Pip comfort. And as soon as she hung up, Pip reported the conversation to her. “He said it's normal that we feel this way because we lived here with my brother and father, and pretty soon we'll feel better. He said to do something fun tonight, like order Chinese food, or a pizza or go out. And turn on some music. Happy music. Real loud. And if we're too sad, we should sleep together. He said we should go shopping together tomorrow and buy something silly, but I told him I couldn't, I have to go to school. But his other ideas sounded pretty good. Do you want to order Chinese food, Mom?” They hadn't had it all summer, and they both liked it. It was something different at least, which was Matt's plan.
“Not really, but it was sweet of him to suggest it.” Pip particularly liked the idea of the music. And then Ophélie suddenly thought about it. Why not, after all? It might help. “Do you want Chinese food, Pip?” It seemed foolish since neither of them was hungry.
“Sure, why don't we just order egg rolls? And fried wontons.”
“I'd rather have dim sum,” Ophélie said pensively, and then started looking on the counter for the number they used for Chinese takeout, and found it.
“I want shrimp fried rice too,” Pip said, as her mother called them and placed the order. And half an hour later, the doorbell rang and all of it appeared, and they sat in the kitchen and ate it. By then, Pip had put on some truly awful music, as loud as they could tolerate. But they both had to admit, they felt better than they had an hour before.
“It was kind of a silly idea,” her mother smiled at her sheepishly, “but it was sweet of him to suggest it.” And it had worked, better than she wanted to admit. It was embarrassing that some Chinese food and one of Pip's CDs could actually soothe some of the pain of the horrifying grief they had to live with. But even from the distance, he had cheered them both.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Pip asked hesitantly, as they walked upstairs, after they'd cleaned up the kitchen and put the leftovers in the fridge. Alice, the cleaning woman, had left them enough groceries for breakfast the next day, and Ophélie was going to buy more in the morning. And she looked startled at Pip's request. In the whole last year, she'd never asked her mother once if she could sleep with her. She had been afraid to intrude on her mother, and in her own intense grief, Ophélie had never offered.
“I guess so. Are you sure you want to?” It had been Matt's idea, but Pip thought it another good one.
“I'd like to.” They each took baths in their own bathrooms, and then Pip turned up in her mother's bedroom in pajamas. It suddenly felt like a slumber party, and Pip giggled as she got into her mother's bed. Somehow, by remote control, Matt had changed the entire texture of their evening. And Pip looked blissful as she snuggled in the big bed next to her mother, and was asleep in minutes. And Ophélie was startled at how much comfort it gave her to hug the little body close to hers. She wondered why she hadn't thought of it sooner. They couldn't do it every night, but it was certainly an appealing option on nights like this one. And within minutes, she was sleeping as soundly as her daughter.
They both woke with a start when they heard the alarm ring. They had forgotten where they were, and why they were sleeping together, and then they both remembered. But they didn't have time to get depressed again, they had to hurry to get ready. Pip went to brush her teeth while Ophélie ran downstairs to make breakfast. She saw the Chinese food in the fridge, and with a smile, cracked open a fortune cookie and ate it.
“You will have happiness and good f
ortune all year,” the fortune said, as Ophélie smiled to herself. “Thank you. I need it.” She poured milk into cereal for Pip, orange juice for both of them, and dropped a slice of bread in the toaster. And then made herself a cup of coffee. Pip was down the stairs five minutes later in her school uniform, as Ophélie reached outside the front door for the morning paper. She had hardly read it all summer, and barely missed it. There was nothing exciting happening, but she glanced at it anyway, and then ran upstairs to dress so she could drive Pip to school. The mornings were always a little hectic, but she liked that, it kept her from thinking.
Twenty minutes later, she was in the car, with Mousse, driving Pip to school, and the child was smiling as she looked out the window, and then back at her mother.
“You know, that stuff Matt suggested really worked last night. I liked sleeping with you.”
“I liked it too,” Ophélie admitted. More than she'd expected. It was so much less lonely than sleeping in her big bed all alone, mourning her husband.
“Can we do it again sometime?” Pip looked hopeful.
“I'd love to.” Ophélie smiled at her as they approached the school.
“I'll have to call and thank him,” Pip said, and with that, the car stopped, and Ophélie kissed her hastily, wished her luck in school, and with a wave, Pip was gone to her friends, her day, and her teachers. Ophélie was still smiling to herself as she drove home to the much-too-big house on Clay Street. She had been so happy when they moved into it, and now it made her so unhappy. But she had to admit, last night had turned out better than she'd expected. And she was grateful for Matt's input, and creative ideas.
She walked slowly up the stairs with Mousse, and sighed as she unlocked the front door. She still had a few things to unpack, and groceries to order, and that afternoon she wanted to go by the homeless shelter. It was enough to keep her busy until she picked Pip up at three-thirty. But as she walked past Chad's room, she couldn't help herself. She opened the door and looked in. The shades were drawn and it was dark, and so empty and sad, it nearly tore her heart out. His posters were still there, and all his treasures. The photographs of him with his friends, the trophies from when he'd played sports when he was younger. But the room looked different than when she last saw it. It had a dry quality, like a leaf that had fallen and was slowly dying, and a musty smell. And as she always did, she went to his bed, and put her head on his pillow. She could still smell him, although more faintly. And then, as always happened when she walked into this room, the sobs engulfed her. And no amount of Chinese food or loud music would change that. They only postponed the inevitable agony, as she realized once again that Chad was never coming home.
Safe Harbour Page 14
