All of These Things

by De Mattea, Anna

  “I was just thinking, Care, that you’re pretty fearless, you know. You defy the odds and come back up stronger.”

  I’m agog. I’m utterly gobsmacked by her disclosure and stare blankly at Sofie after the bombshell.

  “Don’t ruin it by getting all corny on me,” she continues. “Now, come on. Let’s go eat.”

  I smile fondly.

  We scamper off, and I stop to claw a hand over the top of the white, square banister. I steady myself, allocating air to my brain. My headache is slight but my skull feels heavy.

  “Hold onto me, Drama Queen,” Sofie says, coming to my side.

  “I’m fine,” I emphasize and commence a cautious descent.

  “Okay. Don’t hold onto me. See if I care. I’ll just call Alec, and he can carry you down.” Sofie puckers her lips to bury a smile, and I discount much of the statement.

  “We still need to talk about what you’re trying to do with all of that,” I warn as we reach the landing and step down two more stairs to enter the living room. I walk past the repulsive sofa from last night, heading towards the kitchen.

  Sofie looks patronizing. “Sure we do.”

  The back wall of the kitchen and dining area is a glass lookout over the sea. I need to collect my bearings every time I enter the space, but with Mom in my life the way she is, I may never see anything like this again. So the marginal seasickness is a picture-perfect souvenir for me.

  “Hello, Caroline.” That heady voice never fails to make me flinch.

  “Hi,” I utter inside a sigh. “Hey, Jason.” My voice picks up life as I turn away from Alec to focus on his friend.

  “Hey, Caroline. I’m glad you’re joining us,” Jay says, striding closer. “I called Sofie for updates. She said you’ve been doing alright. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do? I feel like I haven’t really been all that helpful.”

  “Are you kidding? No, Jason. Thank you. And this spread. Wow,” I reassure.

  “When in Maine, right?” Jay says, arranging a dispersion of clam chowder, boiled lobster, fried calamari rings, garlic bread, and Sea Dog blueberry beer. “Oh, and there’s a cobbler in the fridge for dessert. Let’s not forget that, babe.” He pecks Sofie’s cheek.

  Faint ginger highlights peek through Jay’s blonde hair. He’s the quintessential construction guy, but what Sofie apparently likes best is how soft and smooth his hands and feet are for someone rough and tough like him. I try striking the image of her finding any of that out on her own and lower my head for a cascade of hair to conceal my reddening face.

  “What’s the matter, love?” Alec asks, grazing my side.

  “Hmm? Nothing. Why?”

  “We lost you to your thoughts.”

  “I really wasn’t thinking of anything. Thanks for the food, Alec,” I say, my eyes meeting his. I turn away. “You too, Jay. Thanks again.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Jason responds, sliding an arm around Sofie’s neck, passing his beer to her.

  “I see,” Alec says. “We’re back to this, are we?”

  I draw back but plan to stand my ground. “I’m not back to anything.”

  In truth, I can’t resist surveying Jay and Sofie together. They’re collaborating on a playlist for his phone, leaning over the counter of the peninsula. It’s like watching a synchronous operation between the two, so acclimatized to one another, and effortless. It affects me because they’ve hardly had the proper opportunity to reach such familiarity, and for someone like me, who’s been with her boyfriend for over a year, I’m a little thrown and nonplussed.

  “I’m just admiring them together,” I divulge. “He’s a nice guy. I like him.”

  “Jason’s ace. I met the lad three years ago, and I’m glad I did.”

  “And you met Sofie last year?” I ask, interweaving a twinge of cynicism into the question.

  “Yes,” he says, poker-faced. “Go on. What else must you know?” Alec’s voice is cool.

  “I want to know why you came up to Catherine’s House, and if popping up into someone’s life, only to disappear and pop up again, is a habit of yours.”

  Music shoots out from the wireless speaker, and I startle, more so when Alec advances. His head hovers over mine, and his gaze sweeps across my face.

  “I believe I was painstakingly honest when I answered those very questions last night. As for your most recent inquiry, Caroline,” my name liquefies in thin, hot air as he says it, “I don’t pop in for anyone other than perhaps my family back home in England. Hoping to meet you was merely something I fancied. So it’s a wish granted, love. Don’t ruin my moment by overthinking it. This is as clear as it gets.”

  I gape.

  His voice, his gaze… they’re hypnotic. Alec is mesmeric, which is becoming exhausting. He’s this magnetic field I have no choice but to remain observant and attentive around, and it’s annoying me to no end.

  Sofie lights a candle on the dining table and another by the sink. At dusk, we can only hear the sea, and for now, even the squawking, cawing beach raiders have retired. Jay waits for Sofie to approach before drawing out a chair for her, and they sit in chorus side by side. She’s three years older than him and from a distinct metropolis across the border, so being subjected to their concurrences is fantastically delightsome. I investigate the table setting.

  I’m forced next to Alecsander, and I contemplate sliding things over to the head. I rake a rapid glance across the spread, attempting to hack this as discreetly as I can.

  “Sit, Caroline,” Sofie commands. I glimpse upwards, shooting daggers in the process.

  Oh, she is positively infuriating.

  Sofia-Marie and I exchange belittling frowns, but I concede nonetheless and plop down on the chair next to Alec. He twists the cap off a bottle and pours the ale into a glass. The bastard’s grinning and Jason is, too. I’m solo, here, like the three of them are on their own masterful island.

  “Love, I understand you’re on holiday, but with your head trauma perhaps you can just have a swill from mine,” Alec imparts, gallingly calm. He slides the glass between our placemats as though it’s perfectly natural for me to share a beer with him and that his opinion would mean something.

  “No, thanks,” I say, happy to shoot him down. “I had enough last night, and I still feel a little dehydrated. I’ll stick to water.”

  “So, Caroline,” says Jason, and I’m beyond relieved to hear him interject, “besides what happened here last night, which is so fucking shitty, how are you enjoying the town? Sofie told me your family’s been coming to Maine since before she was born.”

  “It’s true,” I confirm. “My Mom doesn’t travel well, so when my father married her he couldn’t join the rest of his family on their trips here, and Sofie and I never had the chance to come together. But the summer I was six, Mom took the plunge and agreed to a holiday, and I guess my parents were trying to… I don’t know… work it out, and the three of us came for a long weekend.”

  “Do you remember where you stayed?” Jason asks, mixing crackers into his chowder.

  “Yeah, actually I do. My Dad booked us at the Anchorage Inn. I saw it on the way here when we arrived on Sunday, and it still looks pretty much the same. Except there are more swimming pools and buildings. But I totally recognized it.”

  “That’s a nice place,” Jason certifies. “One of the best. My Mom just spent the week there. She wants her own space now that she has a boyfriend, so she didn’t take me up on my offer to stay at my house.”

  “You’re from Vermont, right?”

  “Yeah, but she lives in Boston now.”

  “Sofie says your grandparents had a home here, and you own it.”

  “Sofie’s right,” he says, tilting over to kiss her between the shoulder and collar bone. “But I rent it out. It just wouldn’t make sense for me to live there when it can bring in the incom
e that it does. Actually, I want you to visit it—maybe tomorrow?”

  His eager-to-please, affability warms me.

  “Yeah. Sure. I’d love to see it,” I accede. “I do hope you’ll be coming back to Montreal. Maybe you can stay longer this time, and Sofie might even allow you outside.” I smirk.

  “You better believe it,” Jay replies staunchly. “Did Sofie tell you all the smart ideas she’s been dreaming up for my place? She’s got me all wired, too, now.” He smiles affectionately towards her.

  “Oh, yeah. Sofie’s great that way,” I say cuttingly and notice her uncovering my bait.

  “Baby,” she starts, “Caroline, doesn’t have time for dreams. She’s on a strict schedule to die a boring, miserable human being.”

  I accept the offence, knowing I full-well started this one.

  “Tosh, Sofie,” Alec interrupts. “I sincerely doubt that. With this one’s determination and spirit…” he says, sloping his head my way. “She’s radiant.” He locks his eyes with mine. “You’re resplendent, love.”

  I’m dazzled.

  Alec is so unnerving—it’s daunting to be tucked between an ego maniac on one side and the superior commander of my life on the other. Sofia-Marie’s always been bossy with me, but is slightly so with all her friends. In school, they generally happened to be boys.

  Sofie never did get on well with girls. They’re apparently too fake or melodramatic for her, and guys are easier friendships to manage. Basically, she has no patience for her sex, and there are very few in our species that Sofie doesn’t mind associating with. But truth be told, she didn’t have it very easy, either.

  Her Early Childhood degree somehow empowered her to self-diagnose. There’s no doubt in Sofie’s mind that she’s mildly Dyslexic and has ADD. Her school days would have been an alienating experience for most people, but not for her. She was in your face half the time and putting teachers in their place the other half. Consequently, something positive did materialize from all of that, and Sofie became the teacher she’d never had, but that didn’t last very long. During a craft with a group of preschoolers, Sofie decided she was more artistic than she knew and began designing and creating her own jewellery. Along the way, a new venture transplanted itself in her overcharged mind. These days, Sofie’s making a business plan for a tea-slash-book shop, and somehow I’m the one woozy and fazed by her life changes.

  “Hey, Alec,” Sofie manages as she spoons a mouthful of chowder. “Does Caroline know about the exhibit?”

  I lurch up.

  “Your work is on exhibition?” I ask before supping up the milk-buttery soup with garlic bread. His beer would really hit the spot now. I eye it subtly.

  “In a shop just out of town,” he explains and slides his golden ale closer to me.

  I startle, practically tottering on the knowledge that we’re synchronously coexisting.

  “I’ll be in Ogunquit later this week for a showing. It’s open to the public. Come with me?” Alec asks abruptly.

  I shudder. “No,” I reply brusquely.

  “Sure she will,” Sofie interferes. “Have you ever been to a gallery, Caroline? No,” she states. “Will you ever make time to go to one back home? No,” Sofie badgers. “You’re on holiday, and you’re supposed to be taking time off from your pathetic life remember?” She grabs some fried fish rings.

  I’m torn. I can’t decide if I want to kick her or hit her with a lobster.

  “We’ll all go.” Jason is trying to help out, but not so much.

  I’m not sure why I’m so adamant about this, but my week here is growing inappropriately congruous to Alec’s existence.

  “Besides,” Jay continues, “all those summer people need a place to stay or maybe some renos.”

  Alec gives a short, quiet laugh. I regret being so rashly discourteous and sit back, quietly embarrassed.

  “I didn’t pack anything fancy. What would I wear?” I ask almost inaudibly.

  There’s a contraction of nerves in my stomach, but by some means, I take a deep breath and turn to Alec, biting my lip and smirking fearlessly.

  Alec’s agape, and it’s so sexy to see him discombobulated this way. I can’t even curb my own elongating grin.

  “It’s not an elegant affair and hardly exclusive. Wear absolutely whatever you like,” Alec says, giving me a beatific smile.

  Chapter Ten

  PASSAGES

  Amalia: Angel Mae’s watching the one when Lady Mary finds Sybil speaking with Branson. At least she asked for permission before playing my DVD, and I didn’t fuss so long as I handled the disc. Downton Abbey is my absolute favourite: the fashion, the castles, the proper, fluid, romantic English accent. One of the ladies from Caroline’s office mentioned the show, and she automatically thought of me. I know the girl probably went by protocol and watched the series beforehand, worrying about the more emotional or overwhelming episodes. But there really isn’t much in there that I can’t handle.

  I’m tempted to watch it again, but Mae looks the type to interrupt and ask questions. That one’s always talking with a smile plastered on her round, giddy face. To top it all off, she’s sitting on Caroline’s side of the sofa. I mean, she’s aware that I don’t want her even fluffing a pillow from my section, but it doesn’t mean she should make herself comfortable in Caroline’s spot, either. Oh, I know. These things wouldn’t matter to that girl, but still, it irks me. Caroline doesn’t think sometimes. I’m the one having to look at Angel Mae sitting there, and it makes things feel out of place. I can’t stand when things are out of place. Why didn’t that child write that in the notebook for Mae! But I bet she remembered to write about those disgusting fish oils she wants me to take. I’m sorry, but there’s a definite aftertaste with those capsules. I don’t digest them well, and whatever that girl thinks they’re good for is absolute nonsense. All I’m left with is a fishy taste at the back of my throat. Honestly, that organic place is just robbing her blind.

  Now Mae’s at the part when Lady Edith tells Lady Mary that Matthew’s missing. Caroline isn’t fond of Mary because she’s all Team Edith. It’s one of the things I don’t mind chatting about with her. Caroline did sound quite cheerful on the phone. Sofie sounded on cloud nine as usual, but Caroline was tranquilly happy. Nathaniel thinks so, too.

  Oh, that beautiful man. I love him for not acting like I put him through too much. Now he can definitely have Caroline’s seat on the sofa. It doesn’t throw things off around here when he comes by. He’s supposed to return in the morning, and I’m to call him if I don’t want the company, which I do—and I don’t. That’s always the conundrum. I’ve always preferred to be alone. I guess I can talk about that in group this week. He said he’ll drive me to Catherine’s House on Saturday, and it’s a satisfying plan, but you know me… we’ll see then.

  Nathaniel: Sandrine left out three pieces of uncooked, marinated beef filets for us tonight—because she knows one doesn’t usually cut it for me. They were soaked in steak spice, a splash of oil, chopped mint and garlic, and had a trace of whiskey and Worcestershire sauce. We’ve dressed up our steaks that way forever, and a Zinfandel was by the stainless steel tray—corked, sitting by two ridiculously fat, long-stemmed glasses. I tried ignoring the note on the table. It was stretched out like a house of cards before I got to it. I unfastened my cufflinks first and placed them on the island, rolling up the sleeves to a white shirt. I thought about changing altogether and putting on some shorts or jeans, doing away with these grey slacks, but the AC in here is too penetrating. Sandrine likes it really cool when Amalia always preferred a natural draft or ceiling fans. I suppose she got me used to that, too.

  I’ve seen her in that dress before today. It’s very 50’s—a tea dress she’d call them when we were married. This one was white with black and blue butterflies rising at the hem. The skirt reached her knees, and the exposed skin below it was disturbingly flawle
ss. Amalia can be quite the minx when she’s free and forward, causing damn trouble in my head. Then again, any of her moods are irresistible to me for different reasons.

  I have this wonderfully constant, normal woman right here, longing for a real us—hopeful for me to be rid of my ex and become the man she deserves. I need to discuss this with Dr. Toussaint again, perhaps when Amalia’s with her out-patient group this weekend. That card on the table looked so lonely amongst all our things. It ate at my heart as Sandrine waited somewhere in our bedroom. I didn’t rush over to her, nor did I jump to read the message. I procrastinated, which must have tormented her.

  If you want me to join you, I will. You know that all you have to do is ask.

  I was gutted. Sandrine deserves better than me. She deserves more! We’re worthy of something healthier because we both have so much to give—so much we want to give. But to whom? I feel like we keep criss-crossing and running off in different directions. Actually, I run off, and she’s stuck at the intersection watching for me. Once upon a time, our lovemaking was abundant. I was tired of being deprived and left out in every which way. Instead, Sandrine was imparting, open and accessible. I yearned and loved that she yearned for me. I willed myself to feel a shift in arousal tonight. I pictured my mouth on her neck and my nose in her bright, mahogany-brown hair. I thought about Sandrine’s small, pert breasts, and the outward curve of her back to her plump bottom. I’d be lying if I said I felt nothing, but the thoughts weren’t all that conquering.

  If you want me to join you, I will.

  Sandrine was lonely and desperate somewhere in our apartment. I didn’t like knowing she felt deserted, but I don’t like how she can try to steer me away from the very people I need. She reached out in a nosedive and to let her plummet and crash was not an option. I couldn’t. So, I went to find her.

  Jason’s giving us a walking tour of York, and as we walk along Long Beach Avenue, passing old world restorations that are universally bordered by pink and blue hydrangeas, I play dumb against my own senses. There’s a definite fizz of anticipation stirring as I wonder if we’ll come across Alec at some point. I want to ask Jay or Sofie where his rental house is situated and discreetly scan prints and paintings in small shop windows for his signature. Sofie’s so accustomed and aware of it all that she practically lets him fall behind as she takes the reigns of his tour. Jay’s happy to let her, but I’m suspecting an alternate agenda creeping up.