Back to You (2 page)

Chapter 2

GLORIA was having a steaming hot cup of green tea, and was fully immersed in an article in her favorite magazine; singing the praises of a popular stress-reducing, belly-fat magic diet, when the doorbell rang. She didn’t hesitate to get to the door, as it wasn’t often she had company.

She peeked through one of the three small windows on her door before opening and greeting John with a big smile.

“Come in,” she urged him. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“Same here,” he offered, giving her a quick squeeze, “…just coming by to say hi.”

“And who’s this?” Gloria asked, looking at the young girl with the shiny blond ringlets, standing awkwardly beside John. Although, Gloria had a pretty good idea – John had talked about his daughter at length.

“This is the famous Paige,” he beamed. “She’s staying with me this weekend,” he added, handing Gloria a basket covered with a crisp checkered blue and white kitchen towel. “These are for you.”

“Thank you,” Gloria said, surprised to see delicious looking blueberry muffins.

“You made these?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. “Or did you just buy these and put them in this basket to make them look legitimate,” she teased.

John smiled. “Actually, they’re made from scratch, by yours truly, and our little bakery chef here,” he told her, patting the top of Paige’s head, who’s irritated response was an eye roll.

“Well, come in. Sit down please,” Gloria urged.  “We can have some of these yummy looking muffins with some tea. I just made a pot of green tea…” she added as she scurried to the refrigerator. “And I’ve got some milk here for you, Paige. Would you like some?”

After hesitating for a long moment, “Yes, please,” Paige finally answered in a soft voice.

“She’s not usually this quiet, this one,” John observed. “She usually has a lot to say.”

“Not like you, then. I remember… you were quiet when you were little,” she told him. He had been like a second son, but a lot less rambunctious than her little Ian.

They enjoyed their muffins, seated at the Formica table in the center of Gloria’s old fashioned kitchen.

“It’s got a kind of charm, doesn’t it,” John offered, looking around the room, combing a hand through his thick messy mop of hair, which Gloria guessed was probably the envy of most men his age.

“It does… but it all has to go,” she pointed out.

“As you wish,” he added with a smile. “I was looking at the notes you gave me. There’s a lot of work… bathroom, kitchen, painting, exterior, landscaping. But I promise I’ll do my best to keep your costs as low as I can. I can pull a few strings… get some deals from my contacts.”

“And you’ll pay yourself handsomely, I hope.”

“I couldn’t take money from you Mrs. Ryan. You’re like a mother to me,” he confided. “Better than…even,” he trailed off, looking out the kitchen window at the scenery of the Atlantic coastal town.

They were without words for a few seconds, remembering a mother who had never really been a mother. Paige sat just as silent, having really never known her grandmother. Her father had told her it was for the best.

“Stop with this formal nonsense,” Gloria ordered, “…and call me Gloria.”

John smiled down at his cup of tea, “I’ll try.”

“And I want to pay you, John,” Gloria insisted. “I won’t have it any other way.”

“We’ll see…” he told her with a smile. “I promise, I won’t be out of pocket, and my time is pro-bono… think of it as a long over-due debt,” he added. “Geez, I practically
lived
at you house when I was young.”

She laughed at the memory. He had been a constant fixture at the house, always so adorable and polite, offering to help out with chores. On some days, she had wanted to officially adopt him.

“This renovation will be a real pain in the rear, that’s for sure,” Gloria added matter-of-factly, to which Paige smiled a little.

“Excuse my language, Paige, but this whole thing’s got me a little stressed,” she confessed. “But thank goodness, my Sophie is coming to help me out,” she added with a hint of a smile, fully knowing this little tidbit of info would most certainly have an effect on John.

John looked up from his cup of tea with curious eyes. “Sophie is coming to visit?”

“Yep… I am beyond thrilled,” she gushed. “I can’t wait. She’s coming in a week,” she added, glad to be the bearer of good news, “…with her son Jesse.”

“How old is her son?”

“He’s ten,” she answered and was quick to add, “I told you about his father. It’s been really hard on both of them these past two years. I think Jesse’s been acting out.”

“It must be so hard for a child to lose a parent,” John offered. Gloria could see genuine concern on his face. She knew he was thinking of a time long ago, of someone whom they both cherished. And her own thoughts brought her back to that time, but she quickly pushed them away.

“Paige is eleven… so they should get along,” John pointed out. “Paige is a little bit of a tomboy. It’s all bugs and dirt with her.”

“Ah… not like my Sophie… still a girly-girl to this day,” Gloria joked.

At that, they both smiled, Gloria picturing a young Sophie in her lavish pink outfits and tiaras.

“But thankfully, she had you to bring her down to earth, get her a little dirty,” Gloria pointed out. “Remember that time you threw her in the mud puddle?”

John laughed. “That was priceless.”

“You did not… dad?!” Paige asked, mortified.

“I did,” he confessed to his daughter. “I threw a pompous girl in a big dirty puddle to teach her a lesson,” he half-joked.

“No wonder she’s not your friend anymore,” Paige added knowingly.

John and Gloria both laughed, and then fell silent for a few seconds.

“How come you never talk about her?” Paige asked.

“I’ve told you about her,” John said. “…but I probably referred to her as ‘Snow’ which is what I used to call her.

“Oh…
her
,” Paige said with sudden realization. “You talk about her all the time,” she added matter-of-factly. “Why do you call her ‘Snow’ anyway?”

He smiled. “I’m not really sure… because her skin is as white as snow.”

“Kind of like Snow White?”

“Exactly,” he replied, with a hint of sadness.

And Gloria knew John still held a torch for her daughter – a pretty big flaming one, in fact.

John and Gloria spent a good hour chatting and going over the details of the renovation. Just as John and Paige were preparing to leave, Gloria insisted they take a walk out back. John didn’t mind hanging around for a few more minutes, but he was a little concerned about getting caught in the upcoming storm.

He looked up at the dark gray sky. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”

Gloria led him to the storage shed out back. “We have a little bit of time. I just wanted to show you the roof… it’s done for. I should probably get that fixed too.”

“Yep, definitely,” John agreed as they made their way to the shed.

Walking through the backyard brought on so many memories for John. The house had as well, but the sight of the large pines behind the house took him back, to a time which seemed ages ago…

“Does your mother even know where we are?” John asked Sophie. “She’s probably looking for you.”

“That’s the point,” Sophie scoffed. “I’m trying to get away from her,” she told him, stretched out next to John on the old worn plaid sleeping bag.

“You take her for granted. You are so lucky to have a nice parents,” John pointed out, contemplating the pine needles, leaves and various dead insects littering the canvas ceiling of their version of a tree house, which just happened to be an old worn-out yellow tent, tucked under the shade, in between the trees

“But your mother is so beautiful and exciting… she looks like Barbie,” Sophie argued.

“Maybe that’s why she has so many boyfriends,” he added bluntly. “I can’t keep of track of them anymore.”

“Did you ever know your dad?”

“Nope…” he said plainly. “But if I had a dad, he’d be exactly like your dad.”

“My dad is practically your dad… you spend more with him than I do,” she pointed out. And after a few seconds of silence, she added “He loves you… you know?”

John smiled and turned his head ever so slightly and looked away. If she caught him with watery eyes, he’d never hear the end of it. “You think?” The thought had brought on emotion, which he had pushed away immediately.

“My sister doesn’t know her dad either,” John added.

Sophie propped up on her elbows. “You mean your sister’s father is not your father?”

“No… why is that so surprising?” he asked. “She looks nothing like me,” he said, making an excellent point, as his sister’s dark eyes and black hair couldn’t have been any more different than his own light blond locks and blue eyes.

“Wow… your life is like a soap opera.”

“Yes… a real Dynasty,” he joked.

“Speaking of which,” she said with excitement. “My show is coming on. I’m really into it these days. You wanna come and watch?”

“I think I’ll pass,” he smirked. “I’m not into all this kissy-kissy stuff,” he added, making obnoxious kissing sounds, and completely annoying Sophie.

“But some day,” she assured him with a smile, “you will be.”

She had been right. He had loved and suffered. And he had often asked himself why humans did this to themselves. Lately, he hadn’t been seeing anyone, and his life had never been more simple or serene. The chaos that was life with his ex-wife was finally over, and they were generally on amicable terms.

Life was simple, and he told himself he liked it that way.

Chapter 3

SOPHIE sat on the rigid airport seat, reading
Women’s Weekly
– well, trying to read, as she found herself having a hard time focusing on the words. Something else was occupying her mind, taking possession of all its real estate. Yes... her mind was full of John Moretti.

Geez… stop thinking about him, she mentally scolded herself, trying to instill some kind of logic in her mind. She hadn’t seen him in ages. But despite this, she would often think about him – a distant wonderful recollection in her mind.

But he also brought back painful memories – memories she had tried to run away from for over twenty years. In recent years, he had been a person who was only a recollection to her, and whom she thought, would always be just a memory. She had never envisioned ever seeing him again.

He had moved out west; up in Canada to work in construction, not long after she, herself, had left to attend NYU. She had tried to keep in touch at the time, sending him letters, but her letters had never been answered. And with no real family to tie him out east, he really had no reason to ever come back.

“Flight 2036 to Bar Habor,” the loud garbled voice on the intercom could be heard, even over to the screaming kids playing next to her.

“That’s us, Jesse,” she announced with anticipation. “Are you excited?”

“Umf…” was Jesse’s reply, which was pretty much standard issue.

She had given the window seat to Jesse, who was always keyed up by the notion of seeing the city gradually getting smaller. They were both accustomed to flying, having been on many family vacations. She would often take the opportunity to listen to music and get lost in her thoughts.

The red-haired boy sitting in the aisle seat next to her was with his family, quite focused on the pages of his book. She spotted the cover and her heart skipped a little. He was reading
James and the Giant Peach
. The book took her back…

“Why do you love that book so much?” Sophie asked, sitting on the old patchwork quilt on her bed, next to John who was fully engrossed in the pages of his book, and who couldn’t be bothered to answer.

“Is it because it’s about escaping… about flying away?”

He still did not answer.

“Is it?”

“Yes Snow…,” John took a second away from his book to offer a little sarcasm. “I really want to fly away inside a giant mutant peach.”

“But seriously, don’t you want to escape, John?” she asked, not really waiting for an answer. “I know I do.”

“And where do you plan to escape to, exactly?” he asked, exasperated – she had officially interrupted his reading.

“The big city…” she answered. “I’m not sure which big city, but I know I’ll work in a really tall building, and I’ll be doing something really important.”

“I thought you wanted to be a writer,” he pointed out.

“I do. I’ll be that too,” she ventured in all seriousness. “What do you want to be?”

“Uh…” he thought about it for a second. “I want to drive a big truck.”

“Oh John… you are such a simpleton,” she teased.

“Oh… and you… you are so worldly,” he taunted. “You’ve never been anywhere but here,” he pointed out.

“Oh… I will be,” she said with enthusiasm. “We can be whatever we want, John.”

“Oh … you are so wise.”

“Well, I am two years older than you,” she reminded him.

“Yes… and you never let me forget it.”

***

John stood beneath the not-so-strong flow of his shower head, making a mental note to fix it as soon as was possible, washing away the long hard day working on a new addition on the notorious beach house around the corner.

Lathering, and trying not to think of her.

Ever since Gloria had told him about Sophie, he couldn’t keep his first love out of his mind. It had been easier when he was preoccupied with work, but when he found himself in bed, or in the shower, his thoughts overtook him. 
What did she look like now? Was she as beautiful as ever?
He couldn’t even go there.

Nope. He wouldn’t go there. In fact, he would have nothing to do with her. She wasn’t worth his time. She was too good for him. She’d always thought she was too good for this place. A better world was waiting for her, a better world with better people. She had always wanted to leave. And she had.

He realized it would be a little challenging avoiding her, since he was working on her mother’s property. He had offered before he knew Sophie would be there. In fact, he was surprised she was coming to visit, since her mother had once so grudgingly pointed out the fact that her daughter barely ever came to visit. It was herself, she had told him, who would often make the trek to New York, on fully paid airfare provided by her daughter.

This recent development was going to make John’s life a little more complicated than anticipated.

Because the truth was… Sophie had broken his heart. And he still hadn’t forgiven her.

***

Sophie was surprised by how excited she was when the plane landed – maybe Jesse’s excitement was contagious. He was surprisingly keyed up at the prospect of spending a large part of the summer at his grandmother’s. Other boys his age might have scoffed at the idea of being taken away from their friends, but Jesse wasn’t your typical boy. He didn’t have too many friends, and he certainly had his share of bullying. Sophie had tried to intervene, but had found it hard to do so. He had inherited her quiet bookish nature, her delicate frame and gothic coloring; qualities which made him quite vulnerable to school bullies.

“Will Grandma pick us up at the airport?” Jesse asked, lugging his backpack, half-falling off his shoulder, as they made their way to the baggage claim.

“Yes. I can’t wait to see her.”

The flight had been smooth and the baggage claiming ritual without complications, which was a rare occurrence in Sophie’s experience. All was good with the world.

“You’re too skinny,” were the first words out of Gloria’s mouth, which Sophie thought quite ironic, as she had been trying to lose those last ten pounds – that gruyere she loved so much was relentless, leaving its traces on her hips. But her mother’s idea of body beauty was not set to the same Hollywood standards which Sophie reluctantly followed.

“Hi, Mom,” she said, hugging her tight. “I’ve missed you so much.” They held each other for a few seconds, reluctantly letting go. Her mother hadn’t changed. She wore a busy bohemian blouse over leggings, her loose graying hair flowing down her back without fuss.

“And let’s give this boy a hug,” Gloria squealed, grabbing a hold of Jesse, who had no choice but to reciprocate. She ruffled his hair. “You need a haircut.”

“And you…” Gloria said, looking at her daughter “Don’t you look posh with your polka-dot blouse and fancy white pants,” she offered, sizing her up. “Can you even walk in those?” she asked, looking at the five-inch black and white Mary-Jane pumps Sophie had selected to perfectly coordinate with her outfit.

“I’m used to it, Mom.”

“Well you do look lovely… like a modern day Audrey Hepburn,” Gloria observed, which was incidentally the exact look Sophie had been going for.

The drive home to the Coast of Bar Harbor was not too long, as good conversation hurried time.

“How’s the house looking?” Sophie asked. “A mess?”

“No. It’s just as you left it. The renovations haven’t started yet,” Gloria explained. “John will be coming today in fact, to get things started.”

Today… already… she would see him. She was glad she had made herself look nice.

“You’ve got anything to eat, Grandma?” Jesse asked, sitting comfortably in the back, fiddling with his iPod. “I’m starving.”

“Lots of food Jesse, lots of food. Let’s fatten up your mother.”

When she stepped out of her mother’s old van, Sophie took in the fresh salty sea air, and looked into the distance where she could spot the ocean, between all the cottages.

Jesse and Gloria helped her with the luggage – there was a lot – the pitfalls of being high-maintenance.

“Geez…” Gloria grunted. “You’re here to stay or what. That’s a lot of stuff.”

“What?” Sophie smirked. “I travel heavy.”

Sophie found it a challenge navigating the rough cobblestone walkway to her mother’s house – the wheels on her gigantic luggage caught, not to mention the heels of her shoes.

“Oh… for crying out loud,” Gloria sighed. “I’ll pull this in for you,” she offered, grabbing the luggage from Sophie, who unsuccessfully tried to protest.

The house was still so rustic – nothing had changed. The yellow cottage with its red trimmed windows and doors certainly stood out. Around town, it was known as the ‘fairy tale cottage’ – straight out of ‘Snow White’, which Sophie suspected might have been the reason John had always been so insistent on calling her ‘Snow’.

The house was made of cement and concrete, and had been built by a famous artist during the depression years; with stone and logs brought in from the beach, hand-trovelled cement over wired mesh. The tiny cozy cottage was a revolution against contemporary architecture with its odd angles and quirks. The chimney was its ‘piece de resistance’; a unique, almost hideous collection of stones set in concrete, painted in red and blue and yellow. But the house looked as colorful and cozy as ever, luxuriously wrapped in beautiful ivy.

As unique as its exterior was, its interior needed help… desperately.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Gloria urged. They weren’t too many spots to make ones’ self comfortable – the place was so tiny, even smaller than Sophie had remembered. And it felt closed in and stuffy.

The furniture in the living room was outdated, but the old retro silver Formica table in the kitchen was kind of cool.

The sight of the teapots on the yellow kitchen shelves brought a smile to Sophie’s face – any more whimsical, and one might get nauseous. The old yellow 1970s era refrigerator stood in the corner, almost saying ‘
Yep, I’m still here… can you believe it?’

Sophie sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by yellow, so much yellow. “You’re getting rid of the yellow, I hope.”

“Oh… you know me and decorating… I thought you could be in charge of all that,” Gloria suggested. “You can work with John.”

Uh… work with John… that might be awkward, considering the fact that she had cold-heartedly broken his heart… and all that.

“Who’s John?” Jesse asked, sipping a glass of iced tea Grandma had given him, with bendy straw, no less.

“He was a good friend of your mother’s when she was about your age,” Gloria explained, “for years actually, since they were just little tykes, up until they were teenagers.”

“What happened to him?”

“We grew apart,” Sophie reluctantly chimed in. “It happens,” she said matter-of-factly, putting on a false face of indifference. She really had no desire to talk about the whole thing.

“He lived just a few houses down the road,” Gloria explained, seemingly not intending to close the subject. “He still lives there now… just moved back,” she added, not disguising her excitement.

“Would you like some chai tea?” Gloria asked. “I’m making myself a cup.” Oh… thank goodness the subject of John is officially closed, Sophie thought with relief.

“And I’ve got some yummy sugar cookies I just made,” Gloria told them as she fetched the platter off the counter.

“I’ll just have one,” Sophie said, “watching my figure.”

“I’ll have about ten,” Jesse joked.

Gloria smiled. “Your mother is so silly, Jesse… she’s never looked so great,” she added, looking at her daughter with awe. “You’re a little older, but as beautiful as ever. And you certainly look better than you did in your college years… I was a little concerned.”

“Why?” Sophie asked, with a cheeky grin.

“You were so skinny… and those piercings.”

Sophie had indeed gone through a ‘Goth’ phase of sorts in college, sporting some body jewelry, and a tattoo which was still evident on her upper arm, carefully hidden underneath the sheer polka-dots of her blouse. She had taken up with a ‘bad boy’, which had been a phase, her mother had told her, that she just had to get through.

“I’ve got a little surprise for you two,” Gloria blurted out, as she bounced up from her chair and hopped over to the refrigerator. “Popsicles!”

As she opened the freezer door, a huge grin stretched across her face. “Just like old times”.

“Fabulous,” Sophie said, “I’ll have a–”

“Let me guess… banana?” Gloria guessed as she opened the flimsy cardboard box.

Sophie smiled. “You know me so well, Mom.”

“Well, you are my only daughter. How about you, Jesse?”

“I’ll have chocolate please.”

“One banana and one chocolate Popsicle coming up.”