This Reminds Me of Us

by Julia Gabriel

  Oliver looked up from the paperwork he was supposed to be filling out. “Yeah. Thanks.” He shut down his computer, filed the paperwork away, and locked the filing cabinet.

  On the drive home, he did not think about New York or the Irvings. He forced his mind to think of absolutely nothing … right up to the moment he drove into his garage. No, make that drove into his garage door.

  “What the—!” He slammed on his brakes, his brain snapping out of its thinking-about-nothing mode. Fortunately, he was going slow at that point, but …???

  What the hell.

  How did he just drive into a closed garage door? He looked around to see whether any neighbors were out to witness it. Blessedly, the street was empty. He put the car into reverse and backed it away from the garage door. He got out to inspect the damage.

  Yeah, it was dented alright. But not enough to prevent it from working. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. How did I just run into it? There was a garage door opener clipped to the sun visor. Why didn’t he push that button like he always did? For that matter, why didn’t he notice that the garage door was closed? I was looking right at it.

  He trudged back to the car and was about to push the button on the garage door opener when he changed his mind. Instead he put the car in reverse and slowly—carefully this time!—backed down the driveway.

  Chapter 35

  Serena sat at the long marble-topped breakfast bar in the kitchen while her mother expertly pulled two espressos from an espresso machine that would be right at home in most coffee shops. The boys were chilling with a movie and popcorn in the home theater. If you lived here, there was almost no reason to ever leave the place, she thought, as her mother frothed milk for their lattes.

  I did live here. Well, part of the time. Thinking back, her boarding school in Connecticut had felt more like home than here. And now that she’d been away for years—living the way normal people do—her parents’ home seemed almost unbelievable. Who needed a kitchen this large? Or a grand marble foyer? Or a shower big enough to accommodate six people? Even so, there were plenty of homes in the city that were more over the top than this one.

  She shook her head gently. It’s a wonder I turned out okay. Her mother slipped a foamy latte in front of her. Or maybe I didn’t? A tiny sigh escaped her chest, but not tiny enough to avoid notice.

  “What’s the matter?” Her mother sat down next to her.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Serena. Why do I get the sense that this visit involves you running away from something?”

  “I just needed to get away for a few days.” She took a tentative sip of her drink. “Recovering from the accident has been harder than I expected. And more exhausting, some days.”

  “Harder in what ways?”

  “Just … I feel like I did that first year in St. Caroline. When I didn’t know many people and Ollie and I were still getting to know each other. Only now everyone else knows me—and knows things about me that I can’t remember. Or even think are true anymore.”

  Her mother sipped at her coffee, thoughtfully. “You remember your grandmother in Atlanta?”

  Serena nodded. “Of course.”

  “Well, she was fond of saying, ‘start where you are.’” She reached over and lightly touched Serena’s forearm. “Dear, maybe you need to think less about remembering your old life and think about the life you have. Do you like it? Is it what you want? What you want now—not necessarily what you wanted before.”

  “But Oliver wants our old life. And I’m the one who’s changed, not him.”

  “Oliver can’t have your old life, sweetheart. Life threw the two of you a curveball. The question is whether you want the life you have today.”

  When did her mother get so wise? Or had Serena been so overly sure of herself when she was younger that she hadn’t noticed? On the other hand ...

  “Is that what you and dad are doing? Starting where you are?” She held her breath. She had never, ever broached the topic of her parents’ relationship with her mother.

  Her mother was unfazed. “Yes, we are. His heart attack last fall was a real wake-up call for him. He’s stopped drinking. He’s exercising the way he should have been before. He’s eating better. We’re seeing a marriage counselor.”

  “But after everything he did—”

  Her mother shook her head. “All I have is this life today. I can leave and start over. Or I can stay with the new and improved version of your father. The past doesn’t change with either option.”

  Serena had to admit—she liked this new and improved version of her mother. But she also worried that her mother was being more optimistic than the situation warranted.

  “What if dad goes back to his old ways?”

  “He’s been put on notice that if he does, then I will leave.”

  Part of Serena hoped her mother would follow through on her declaration, if things got to that. Another part had grave doubts. She glanced at the giant clock on the wall. “We should get going soon if we’re going to meet dad at the restaurant.”

  Mason looked around the restaurant as they followed the hostess. He liked to know where the emergency exits were, as well as the location of any fire alarms. He spotted one on the wall just before the room narrowed into a back hallway. He hoped the kitchen was well equipped with fire extinguishers. If a building like this caught on fire? He couldn’t imagine how the firefighters would attack it. There wasn’t exactly a lot of room out on the street for the engines. And every building was right up against the one next door. How could they keep a fire from spreading?

  He’d have to ask dad when they got home.

  On the inside, though, the restaurant looked pretty much like the Chinese restaurant that had closed in St. Caroline. There were gold dragon statues on the bar. The walls were hung with giant paintings of the Great Wall of China.

  The hostess seated them at a table smack in the middle of the room. He wondered whether it was because his new grandparents were rich. Or as Olivia J. in his class had said, “they’re stinkin’ rich.” That’s what her father told her.

  He fiddled with the paper-wrapped chopsticks next to the placemats containing the Chinese horoscope animals. Mason was a rabbit. Cam was a snake, a fact his younger brother did not like to be reminded of. (“I’m not afraid of snakes! I just don’t like them!”) Then a waitress arrived with a stack of big fancy menus.

  “I can’t believe this place is still around,” his mom said after the waitress took their drink orders (water for him and Cam).

  But at least his mom remembered the place. Actually, she was remembering more things lately. Mason noticed that. Dad had told him and Cam not to make her feel bad by helping her too much. Mason mostly ignored that idea. A lot of what his mom forgot wasn’t that important. Like what drawer something was in. Who cared about that stuff?

  Besides Dad, obviously.

  He opened his big fancy menu, turned to the page for main dishes, and ran his eyes down the long list. Yep. They had pretty much the same stuff as the Chinese restaurant at home. He liked to mix it up a little. Beef and snow peas one time, shrimp in garlic sauce another. Cam always ordered sweet and sour chicken. He leaned over to show his brother where that dish was on the menu. Cam was pretty smart, but he was still in kindergarten. He couldn’t read restaurant menus yet.

  Truth be told, Mason couldn’t either. Not normally. But he knew Chinese dishes. The junk drawer in the kitchen had a couple of takeout menus in it. When his mom was in the hospital, lots of stuff got put in the junk drawer because he and Dad didn’t know where it belonged.

  No wonder she can’t find things.

  I know, right?

  His eyes skimmed down the page of dishes again. “On-trays,” his father always called them. He was getting a little worried. He wasn’t seeing his mom’s favorite dish. They had to have her favorite dish if this was her favorite restaurant, right? He turned the page and scanned the lines of tiny letters. He let out a little whoosh of b
reath. There it was—pineapple fried rice with a choice of chicken, shrimp or vegetables. She always got it with the shrimp.

  Nana? Can you make sure she knows that’s the one?

  He was surprised to see his grandmother here in New York. His other grandmother, that is. He had assumed she couldn’t leave St. Caroline. But “assume” makes an ass out of you and me. That’s what Uncle Mattie always said.

  Oh dear lord. I really fell down on the job with my middle child.

  Mason held back a snort of laughter. He didn’t want to let on that Nana was here. Most people couldn’t see her. Cammy couldn’t, and Mason didn’t want to tell him. It would scare the bejeezus out of him. Even Mason couldn’t see her all the time. Mostly just at night, when his mom turned the bedroom light out. It was right in that second before his eyes adjusted—he would see her leaning against the wall, blowing a kiss at him and Cam.

  He could always hear her, though. She was around a lot.

  Got nowhere else pressing to be.

  Heaven?

  Isn’t that where the good people went when they died? Nana was a good person.

  Haven’t run across that place yet.

  The waitress was back, interrupting their silent conversation. His new grandmother ordered wonton soup and a salad. Grandfather Irving looked at his mom. Nana! Make sure she knows.

  One of those things that’s not important, sweetie.

  Mason held his breath anyway. Your favorite Chinese food was kind of important. Because what if you ordered something you didn’t like?

  “I’d like the pineapple fried rice, please.” His mother closed her menu and Mason quietly let his lungs empty. “With chicken,” she added.

  Chicken! It was the shrimp she liked. He watched her to see if she would realize her mistake.

  Shrimp, it’s the chicken of the sea.

  That’s tuna, Nana.

  You sure?

  Google it.

  He could swear he felt a soft squeeze on his shoulder just then. Sometimes he wanted to jump up and shout, “she’s still here!” But he was old enough to know he’d probably get carted off to the funny farm if he did.

  You’re not old enough for the funny farm.

  Next to him, Cam blurted out his order. “Sweet sour chicken. Please.”

  Mason ordered his beef and snow peas next, then his grandfather ordered last. The waitress finished writing on her little pad of paper and left.

  “Who wants to go to the Empire State Building tomorrow?” Grandpa Irving asked.

  “Me!” Cam bounced in his chair.

  “Well, that’s good because I got you guys tickets. Express Entry so you won’t even have to wait in line.”

  That’s good.

  You’ve been there?

  Your Grandpa Wolfe and I went years ago. Stood in line for hours.

  Are you going with us tomorrow?

  No, I need to go check on your dad.

  Okay.

  He doubted his dad wanted to be checked on. Lately it seemed like he mostly just wanted to be left alone. Mason, on the other hand, liked that his nana checked in on him. She refused to help him with his homework (Uncle Mattie said it couldn’t hurt to ask), but it helped just that she was around.

  “Mason, what do you think about that?”

  He heard his mother’s voice and became aware that everyone at the table was looking directly at him.

  “Umm …”

  His mom’s forehead creased into little lines. “Pay attention, sweetie. Your grandfather was telling us what to look for in the natural history museum tomorrow.”

  “Sorry. I was thinking about Dad.” That was mostly true, right? They couldn’t be mad at him for thinking about Dad.

  “We’ll see Dad in a few days, okay?”

  He felt a ticklish sensation on his cheek. Have fun tomorrow. Keep an eye on your brother.

  Will do, Nana.

  Chapter 36

  Oliver parked his SUV in the main parking lot at the cemetery. It was possible to park closer to the gravestones, but he needed a chance to walk and think. To clear his mind. He had just driven his car straight into a garage door. How the hell does anyone do that? He hadn’t fallen asleep. He was 99.99 percent certain of that—he very clearly remembered making the final turn onto his street and thinking that Mrs. Macintyre’s azaleas were huge this year.

  But then the next thing he knew, the white garage door was right in front of the hood and he was slamming on the brakes. Just in time, too. Another second and he would have made more than just a dent.

  He got out and took a deep breath of early evening air. He liked that about St. Caroline. The breezes off the bay kept the air clean. He couldn’t understand how people lived in DC or Baltimore or … New York. That smell of car exhaust, especially in the summer when the heat baked everything into your skin … if he had to move to New York to be near the boys, he didn’t know what he would do.

  “I would hate it there.”

  He spoke out loud, not caring whether anyone was around to hear. Everyone would know soon enough, if they didn’t already—

  “Serena Wolfe left Oliver! And took the boys to the city!”

  “I heard her parents gave her back the trust fund.”

  “Trust fund? She had a trust fund?”

  “Smart boy, that Oliver, for marrying her.”

  “Yeah, but he couldn’t hold onto her, could he?”

  “No worries, plenty of women in town would kill to marry one of the Wolfe boys.”

  That was true, if Oliver could say so himself. He would have no trouble getting married again. In St. Caroline he was a catch. Deputy fire chief! Father of two adorable boys! Not bad looking—if he could say so himself. He had his father’s hairline so he was going to end up bald at some point. But some women found bald to be sexy. That’s what people said, right?

  Only … he didn’t want to remarry. Even after everything, he wanted to be married to Serena. The old Serena, the one before the accident. The one before … Ben.

  He wondered what the gossip around town was on that. How many people knew? Everyone? That was probably a good bet. News travels fast in a small town. Maybe people had been whispering behind his back for years. If Matt had seen them together at Two Beans, then other people had also.

  Maybe I’m the last to know.

  After twenty minutes of walking aimlessly on the cemetery’s winding path, he ended up at Ben’s grave. Even Oliver wasn’t surprised by that. He started to walk on by, but then stopped. He turned toward the pale marble stone.

  Ben Ezra Wardman. Born 1987. Died 2017.

  “Everyone says you’re such a great guy. And that you’d never cheat on your wife. Nor would I.” Oliver let out a bitter laugh. “I guess that’s one thing we have in common.” He walked around to the back of the headstone, as if expecting something else to be carved into the back. Some pithy quote or secret message. There was nothing, of course.

  “Another thing we have in common—we both got extraordinary women to move to St. Caroline.” He returned to the front. “We both clipped the wings of women who would have had bigger lives, if not for us. Quite the fraternity we’re in, huh?”

  He leaned over and yanked up a few weeds, tossed them into the grass beyond. “Well, Serena has her trust fund back.” Another bitter laugh escaped. “She gave that up for me. How stupid was that? Would you have given up a trust fund for a woman?”

  Oliver wasn’t sure he would have. And what did that say about him?

  “She wants to go back to school. She should, too. I’m a firefighter. What if something happens to me? I mean, look at my Uncle Jack. Died on a call. Hell, look at you. You died young and left a widow. And you didn’t even have a dangerous job.”

  A breeze whistled through the leaves overhead. Oliver sensed someone behind him, his firefighter’s situational awareness kicking in. He turned around to see a stocky bald figure walking on the path and headed his way. His father, dressed in his standard navy chinos and St. Caroline
Fire Department windbreaker. Oliver stood and watched as his father approached.

  “Hey son. Thought that was your car in the lot back there.” His father glanced down at the headstone. “Paying your respects?”

  “I was on my way to mom’s. Noticed Ben’s here.”

  “I’m on my way to your mother’s, as well. We can walk together.”

  Tim Wolfe was a good three inches shorter than Oliver, but he seemed to take up more space. He had presence. Confidence. A groundedness that Oliver had always hoped he’d one day grow into. Clearly, that day wasn’t here yet.

  “Heard from Serena and the boys?”

  “Yeah. The boys are enjoying the Irvings’ indoor pool.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, who wouldn’t?”

  A cellophane-wrapped bouquet of flowers was cradled in his dad’s arms. Why hadn’t he noticed that until just now?

  “You’ve never been to their house, have you?” His father seemed determined to add insult to injury.

  “Never been invited.”

  “Hmm. I hope Serena doesn’t feel she has to wait for an invitation to come to my house.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t. But the Irvings are different. They cut their daughter out of their life for eight years.”

  “So what’s changed?”

  “Her father had a heart attack or something. Rethinking his priorities, apparently.” Oliver really did not want to discuss his in-laws with his father. Or with anyone, for that matter.

  “Better late than never, I suppose.”

  Angela Wolfe’s headstone came into view. With his father next to him, the empty expanse of grass next to her stone appeared more obvious. His parents had purchased side-by-side final resting spots. He stopped to let his father go ahead and place the flowers.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Oliver asked. “Do you want to be alone?”

  His father made an adjustment to the bouquet, then stood. He shook his head. “No. I don’t think your mom would mind if we’re both here.”

  “Do you ever hear mom’s voice, like, talking to you?”