Muse Unexpected (6 page)

Georgia sighed as she stood up and walked over to Callie. “I will do my best.”

Turning away from her, Callie walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Georgia
sat back down in the overstuffed chair. The one thought burning a hole in her mind was whether or not she would ever get her relationship with Callie right.

“You know what you did and she doesn’t even know all of it,” she said to herself. “You can pretend all you want, but you know why things are the way they are and if you aren’t careful, all of your plans will be ruined.”

She glanced down at her right wrist, removed the bracelet and rubbed it. Although it had healed decades ago, the scar was easy to read. The shame caused by the word Nothos branded on her still burned white hot in Georgia’s heart.

Wearily Callie made it up to Sophie’s bedroom and knocked at the door. She heard Sophie’s muffled voice. “Come in”.

“I can’t begin to offer you an explanation as to why after twenty-two years Georgia has decided to walk back into our lives,” Callie said.

Considering the timing, I can’t even say if it’s a curse or a blessing
.

Callie stood watching her daughter, waiting for some sort of reaction and her heart broke when Sophie began to cry. Her daughter looked down at her messy bed and the stuffed animals on the floor and attempted to straighten-up her room.

Have I been so horrible to this poor child she feels it is more important to have a clean room?

“Sophie, don’t worry about the stuffed animals. It’s not important. Listen, I know the only thing you have invested in your relationship with your grandmother is the occasional thank you card for the money she sends you during the holidays. But, I don’t want the history I have with my mother to interfere with you being able to forge some sort of bond with her. Although she and I may not be on the best of terms, her being here says something.”

Sophie grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “Mom, I am so tired I don’t know what to think. All I know is … all I know is I love you, Mom. I know we haven’t been… I know I’ve… I…I…I… don’t know what I’d do if…”

Callie moved closer to her and cradled her in her arms.

“Shush, I know sweetie. I know.”

Sophie rubbed her eyes. “Do you think you could sleep here tonight?”

“You read my mind, baby.” Callie chuckled and after changing into sweat pants and a T-shirt she climbed into bed, letting out a sigh of exhausted relief. “You always had the best pillows. How did that work out? I think I’m going to have to steal a few from you.”

“Mom, what are we going to do without him?”

“Go on, baby. We remember and keep him in our hearts, but we go on. It’s what he would have wanted.”

***

The next day, Callie woke up and noticed Sophie wasn’t there. Someone was banging around the kitchen and she sighed. Between Sophie crying in her sleep and her own tossing and turning, Callie was sure she'd gotten maybe two hours of sleep. She got up and walked down the hall into her own bathroom, closing the door behind her.

“I look like hell.” She glanced at her swollen eyes and the dark circles and bags under them. Her head was pounding and she swallowed three ibuprofen. She took a shower, brushed her teeth and walked down the stairs. At the bottom of the staircase, she paused on the last step. The house was spotless.

Following the sound of glasses and dishes being shoved into the dishwasher, Callie found Georgia standing in the middle of the kitchen, and Sophie and Stephanie sitting at the table glancing at several photo albums Callie recognized.

The counter nearest the stove had been made into a coffee station, with Callie’s ancient, party-sized percolator chugging along as it brewed a batch of coffee.

Sophie should have said something to Georgia. She knows the large coffeemaker was only used for special occasions… Your husband just died
.
I think this qualifies as a “special occasion,” stupid
.

Wanting to watch the interaction, Callie took a few steps back and hid herself away from the doorway.

“Well,” Georgia said. “I’m truly sorry you had to see your mother and me arguing. But I hope you know that although I haven’t been a huge part of yours or your mother’s life, I do care for both of you. But enough of old arguments and healed over wounds. I bet you would enjoy hearing about when your mother was young and about Greece?"

“I would love to hear embarrassing stories about my mom,” Sophie replied.

“I’m not going to argue about hearing them,” Stephanie said. “Do you have any really mortifying stories? I would love to hear those.”

Georgia
laughed.

Hidden from view, Callie listened to one story after another; shocked her mother even remembered any of them.

This was a woman who had no time to say hello to me
.
I can’t even remember the last time she said she loved me or was proud or happy for me, and now she sits there like the doting mother, reminiscing about the daughter she barely acknowledged.

A strange buzzing cut through whatever effect the painkiller was having and Callie decided to let the whole thing go.

“This is Callista, as a little girl,” Georgia said, pointing to an old photograph in one of the leather-bound albums. “Such a beautiful child. Here she is during the grape harvesting festival. I have an orchard I tend to. Now, this is a good one.” Georgia pointed to another picture. “This is Callista, with her first boyfriend. Little Gus. Oh my, was that boy in love with your mother.” Sophie and Stephanie squealed. “He followed her around like a lost lamb. I made her dress myself. They’re both dressed in traditional outfits from our village,” Georgia proclaimed.

Enough is enough
. Callie walked into the kitchen and after she poured herself a cup of coffee, she cleared her throat. Georgia sighed. “Okay, maybe I didn’t make it. I believe my friend Euryale, who is well known for her couture and needlepoint work made it. I hope you like your coffee strong. Cream and sugar are already set out.”

Callie sat next to Sophie.

“I can see you’ve been busy, Mother. The house is scrubbed from top to bottom, coffee is made and you’ve laid out quite the spread on the counter.”

Georgia
rested her hand on the tabletop. “I can’t take complete credit for all of this. Stephanie was a great help and we managed to get things situated. You should eat something, Callista. The bagels are wonderful.”

“I’m not hungry. I’ll eat later,” Callie said, noticing the pad of paper sitting next to Stephanie. On the top page was a long list of items.

“It’s a few things to go over,” Stephanie said. “You know, for the arrangements.”

“Yes,” Callie said. “There is so much to discuss.”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Georgia said. “I need to powder my nose.” Georgia exited the kitchen.

“Powder my nose?” Sophie said, with a smirk. “My grandmother does cocaine?”

Callie burst out laughing. “Oh baby, I needed that. It’s an old saying. It means she needs to use the bathroom.”

“Oh. She could have just said I need to take a dump.”

“Sophie. That’s disgusting,” Callie said, laughing.

Stephanie snorted.

***

The following week made Callie thankful she had Stephanie to lean on. This included middle of the night crying sessions over countless bottles of wine as they flipped through the pages of too many photo albums. She was reliving her life with Angelo. There were pictures from the first moment they saw each other, continuing through their short-lived but passionate courtship. Pictures of their wedding told a story of two people alone in the world. In the wedding photographs, which she wept over, two people stood on the deck of a ship sailing to the United States, while the ship’s captain presided over the ceremony. Guests for the happy occasion included a ship steward and a maid, both of which had conveniently been on their smoke breaks, and upon fulfilling their duties as witnesses, accepted twenty-dollar bills for the unexpected interruption.

The next album showed the young couple, struggling but happy. In their first, second, and third apartments located in their first, second and third states. Old ticket stubs to every movie, concert or play they attended, were pressed throughout this album.

She lovingly touched a few of the ticket stubs.

“A little secret about Angelo was he was so sentimental and kept each and every stub in a little silver box.” Laughing through her tears, she continued, “After the box wouldn’t close, I began transferring them into our photo albums. It was so silly and I would pick on him about it, but he kept on keeping them, right through my eye rolling.” She closed the album.

She paused for a moment and shut the book. “Okay, enough of this today. Now pick up your wine glass and let’s go see what my mother is up to.”

As she walked down the stairs with Stephanie, Callie was thankful Georgia was here and begrudgingly admitted she was glad some sort of bond had developed between Georgia and Sophie.

She reluctantly concluded it didn’t look like Georgia would be disappearing into the night and she had somehow worked her way back into her daughter’s and granddaughter’s life.

Her thoughts were interrupted by laughter coming from an open front door, as Georgia and Sophie walked in carrying fresh cut flowers from the garden. Stephanie gave her a quick hug, whispering she would see her at the service and would be over to help before the guests arrived. Callie frowned as she noted Georgia ignoring her friend.

“Sophia, get some vases for the flowers and we can put them around,” Georgia said.

Sophie rushed into the kitchen and placed her flowers on the table.

She took the flower bunches out of Georgia’s hands. “Sophie, look in the lower right hand cupboard, near the phone. There should be some vases there. Mother, these are beautiful. Thanks for picking them.”

“Glad to help, dear,” Georgia said, as she reached for a sharp kitchen knife to cut the stems. “I’ll take care of the flower arrangements, while you and Sophia go upstairs and get ready for the service. I’ll be ready to go to the church with you by the time you get back downstairs.”

Callie placed the flowers in the sink. Sophie gave Georgia a quick peck on the cheek and dashed up the stairs. Callie reluctantly went over to Georgia and gave her mother’s hand a squeeze, followed by a tired smile.

Ten points for an awkward moment. A is for awkward. We don’t know how to act around each other and I’m not sure I want to invest the effort in learning how to. Callie, I think you’re being a bitch.

Weary, Callie walked up the stairs.

I need to shake off this buzz. One more bottle of wine with Stephanie and I would have been useless to everyone.

The air shifted and goose pimples broke out across her neck. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the kitchen fill with pinpoints of light. She could have said something, protested at Georgia breaking her rules, but she turned a blind eye.

What harm could come from a little Shimmering
. Considering the situation, she was grateful she and Sophie would be greeted by a room filled with perfect flower arrangements and a perfectly dressed Georgia, ready to support them through the rest of the day.

Sophie wasn’t surprised at how nonexistent her father’s service ended up being. Held in the tiny chapel located in the middle of the cemetery, she thought the ornate stone structure with its clay-tiled roof belonged in the Southwest and not in its green and lush environment. There was something about the stone façade, discolored with mildew and moss she found comforting. She took in a deep breath and her head swam with the scent of flowering tulips, lily of the valley and early blooming peonies.

There hadn’t been a priest presiding over the service. An old, creepy monk, whom her mom and dad had known for years, said a few words and prayers, after which he'd invited her mom to speak.

Sophie watched as her mother stood up and felt sorry for her. She could tell this was the last thing her mother wanted to do. Callie’s steps sounded loud, echoing off the stone walls and a hush fell over the gathered group of people.

“Angelo wasn’t one for grand services, for priests sprinkling holy water over a casket or chanting for the dead. Nor was he one for filling a church with fragrant incense in honor of his memory. Those were his exact words; minus the seasoning of the four letter words he sprinkled throughout this topic. He had such a flair for words. He was a simple man. A man who found great joy in each and every person he met on his journey through life. He always had time to talk about even the most mundane of topics and added new meaning to giving the shirt off his back to someone who needed it more. He also was a humble man, whose greatest joy was found in our daughter, Sophia. Sophie had his heart the first moment he saw her and I can truthfully say I’ve never seen a more doting father.”

Sophie hadn’t expected it, but listening to her mother speak about her father was too much, and the emotions she had kept in check surged forward and broke free. She burst into tears, shaking with silent sobs. Georgia’s arm pulled her closer, while she whispered “I’m sorry” and “I know” over and over again.

“As for me, he was my heart and my soul.” Callie’s voice cracked. “He was the embodiment of everything I felt was incredible in this world. We walked hand-in-hand through the best and worst of times. He always used to say, “What doesn’t kill us may take a few fingers and toes, but I’ve always believed toes and fingers were overrated anyway.” Angelo requested those who were comfortable doing so, come up and share a memory or two of him. He believed the best way to measure a person’s life is by the memories they’ve created. And if the sweet outweighed the bitter, then no matter how long he lived, his time on earth would have been worthwhile and filled with purpose.”

Rejoined by her mother, Sophie attempted to hear what each person said, but couldn’t. It was too painful. She continued to look down at her hands, which she held clasped in her lap. Forty-five minutes later, her thoughts were interrupted by Georgia, who whispered it was time to go to the grave-site.

“Okay. I’ll be there shortly. Give me a sec,” she replied.

“Okay,” Georgia said, patting her shoulder. Her grandmother made the sign of the cross and exited the church with a loud click as the doors shut behind her.

She was glad to be left alone in the quiet, the stillness bringing a small measure of relief to her raw nerves. Although it had been a little comforting to hear how her father meant the world to a lot of people, each story was like a dagger in her heart, reminding her that those stories were the last ones to be shared about him. She hated everything about the day. The service, the grave, it was all so final. All she wanted to do was rip off her outfit and soak in a hot bathtub until the stench of those horrible funeral lilies and suffocating carnations were forever erased from her skin.

She didn’t understand why the whole mourning process had to be so endless.

I want my life to be the way it was. It’s just so stupid, stupid, stupid.

She couldn’t help blaming her father for ripping her life apart. Had her father been like normal dads, who worked closer to home, he wouldn’t have taken that trip, he wouldn’t have gotten into an accident on his way back from the airport and her life would be as it had been… Normal.

Stop it. You’re being horrible and selfish. Dad would just laugh at you and say, “That’s the way it goes, baby.”

She sighed and stood to smooth her dress, before going out and facing her new reality.

She was reaching for the iron handle of the chapel’s heavy wooden door when she heard a noise on the opposite side of the room. A woman dressed in a black suit and large black hat with a veil was sitting in the front of the chapel.

“Excuse me,” she said. “The graveside service is about to start.” The woman ignored her. Sophie frowned.

Maybe she’s here for another service.
She pushed the door open to join her mother and the rest of the group.

It took everyone two minutes to reach the marker serving as a makeshift tombstone.

She stood there, feeling helpless, frustrated and conflicted. Somewhere deep inside, she still held on to the hope that her father wasn’t gone.

The monk stood in front of the group, droning on and on to the point she wanted to put her hands over her ears and scream for him to shut up.

She turned away from the group, her head bowed down in thought, shoving hands into her sweater. Nestled into the front pocket among the clean tissues was a small folded item. Pulling it out, she glanced at it for a second until she recognized her father’s stationary, with his strange gold family crest at the top. She held it, unsure what to do.

What the heck is this?
She glanced at her mother and frowned, thinking her mother had put in some sort of note of support.
She shouldn’t be using Daddy’s stationary.

But she knew she was being a brat because her father was dead. He no longer had any use for stationary.

She unfolded the paper. At first, her tired eyes were not able to focus on the ink blotches she assumed were words and for the briefest of seconds she thought she saw the ink on the paper swim across it, which she knew was complete nonsense.

Do not mourn for me, my love. For I am not here.

She recognized her father’s handwriting and her mind spun.

This isn’t funny.
Her hands shook. Her heart pounded, as she attempted to understand the meaning of the note. She crumbled the paper and was about to throw away what she was sure was a stupid joke, but stopped as a fresh crop of tears swelled in her eyes. She gripped the note in her fist, the paper feeling cold to her touch. Feverish and sick to her stomach, she accepted the last shred of hope she had been searching for.

My father is alive.
I knew it. That’s what the note meant. He’s alive. He’s alive, in hiding. Maybe he was a spy of some sort and had to go into hiding or a witness in a major trial and had to go into the witness protection program. They had to fake his death. That had to be it. He’s alive. My father is alive.

The note slipped through her fingers and her eyes followed it, as it drifted to the ground. It landed with a loud thud and exploded into a million points of light that shot in all directions.

Everything appeared to melt away and she collapsed, unable to fill her lungs with air. She recognized she was having a panic attack and closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing in a slow, controlled pattern. After a few panic-filled minutes of wheezing gasps it had passed, and she lifted her head and looked around. She was alone.

Even though the wind whooshed past her, sending her hair and clothes rustling wildly about her, she didn’t feel the cold of the Ohio spring anymore. Everything around her that had been so lush and vibrant now appeared to be muted and fuzzy. She walked forward, not seeing where she was going, but growing angrier as she wondered how her mother and grandmother could have left without her. She paused a moment as a distant spark of light caught her eye. It came from the far edge of the cemetery, which was bordered by a huge, dense wood on three of its four sides. Not sure why she was doing it, she changed direction and began walking towards the bright object, which she realized was a figure of a man motioning for her to come to him. She knew the man, she was sure of it, but couldn’t make him out because he was too far away.

She wondered if it was Stephanie’s husband or the creepy monk.

Who would want to be a stupid monk? Why not become a priest? Isn’t that like being a paralegal versus a lawyer?

The clouds parted, sending some unexpected rays of late day sunshine into the clearing and as the man became bathed in the warm light, she gasped.

“Daddy? God! Daddy!” She broke into a blind run. The figure waved for her to follow as he walked into the woods.

“Daddy.” She started panicking she would lose him. “Don’t leave, Daddy. Take me with you. Please wait.” She yelped the words as she stumbled over a low, broken tombstone, but jumped to her feet in a heartbeat, not wanting to lose sight of her father.

Sophie began to run again, getting closer and closer to the spot where her father had appeared, and the moment she reached it the clouds closed up and the light was gone. She was desperate, deciding whether or not to face the darkness of the woods and shivered a bit.

Don’t go in there
.

She took a few steps backward; convincing herself venturing into the dark woods was not an option her mother would approve of. Almost appearing to sense her hesitation, she watched the clouds part again, shedding light on a far off clearing. Like before, her father stood in the warm light, except this time he called to her.

“Sophie. We haven’t much time. Come on, honey.”

She strained to see him. He sounded a million miles away, his voice crackling like he was on a cell phone with a bad connection.

“Sophie.” He called again and for a brief second she could make him out, as if he was a few yards away from her. Without even thinking, she silenced her voice of reason and rushed into the woods.

Her eyes adjusted to her darker surroundings and she could make out a well-worn path of pine needles, fallen leaves and dirt.

Although her muscles and lungs were burning, she kept on running. Her father appeared to be even farther away. She tripped over fallen limbs and struggled through branches and vines that lashed at her skin. The wind picked up again; pressing on her so hard she stumbled.

Suddenly the act of running became easier and she realized she wasn’t running anymore. Her feet had stopped moving and her body hung limp, the wind carrying her forward at a terrifying rate. Her father’s body began to tremor as he rushed towards her with an inhuman speed. She cried out and closed her eyes, throwing her arms in front of her face, bracing herself for the painful collision.

Her eyes flew open right as her father’s face loomed mere inches away. He laughed and dissolved into a cloud of smoke and ash as she passed right through him.

Sophie fell with a thud onto the ground, the impact making her teeth chatter. She thrashed her arms and legs, trying to get the remains of her father’s ashes off of her. She lay still, terrified out of her mind, not sure what just happened.

There has to be a logical explanation for this. Don’t know what it could possibly be, but I’m sure I will look back on all of this and… probably go bat poop crazy.

She calmed down; almost laughing at how horrific it was that she was brushing her dead father’s ashes off of her clothes, face and hair.

“This has to be a dream,” she said, glancing around. She was in some sort of large clearing in the middle of the woods.

She got to her feet and attempted to walk back the way she came, when she discovered she must have gotten turned around because there didn’t appear to be an opening out of the clearing. She glanced to her right and then to her left to find the opening wasn’t there either.

“Which means, stupid, the way home is behind you,” she said under her breath.

She began walking, keeping her eyes towards the ground, watching for anything she might trip over and somehow stumbled into a woman. She was sure she hadn’t seen anyone else in the clearing. It was the woman from the chapel, wearing the same black hat and veil. She tried to avoid falling into her and fell backwards instead.

“Oh great, you came just at the right time. I was just saying I need yet another person to throw me to the ground and here you are. Just what I needed, thank you very much.” Sophie said, not caring who heard her. Although she couldn’t make out the woman’s face behind her thick veil, she sensed the woman was frowning.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” Sophie said, attempting to get back on her feet.