Chapter Nine
Road Trip
by
Kathryn Eng
Lately, when Stasio was behind the wheel of a car, she was scared. She noticed after his father died, a pent up restlessness; like a caged animal, with wildness in his eyes.
Before Stasio Senior’s abrupt departure, his son would occasionally indulge in aggressive passing, whipping into the oncoming lane, flooring the accelerator. But usually only on long trips. Now, he was doing the sort of dare devil passing that left her mouth open, with mostly wordless pleas. The sort of passing where after she would ask what the hurry was, he would look sideways at her and flick some unseen speck off his jacket, then simply look back to the road. She would stare at him for a time, and then glance out the side window and seethe.
With the speedometer approaching one-hundred on a particular day, she started making deals with God and imagining what her daughter would do without her. Her brain would then fill with gray clouds, blood and crunching metal. Something in her was used to being afraid, used to things going very wrong.
When she got out of the car that day she feebly told herself she would never going to get in a car with him again, then remembered her promise to the old patriarch, Stasio’s father.
The draw to him was primal. When he entered her life she realized she had been hungry her whole existence.
He was a man who appeared to her in one moment measured and one of the sanest people she had ever met. In the next moment, the reasons and whys he gave were laced with a logic alien to her. How’s that connected to this, she would think. Yet, she had chosen him. She knew that. The day they met, she had caught a glimpse of him, across the room. They both had attended the same charity event. He was standing alone, looking into the room, over the top of a cup of Earl Grey tea. It wouldn’t be until later she would actually know what kind of tea he was drinking, or that he always ordered his tea with the water “extra hot.” For a time, she thought him an absurd man with an odd, foreign formality. That formality eventually grew on her.
One day, she found herself chatting with him by the river, and suddenly she was lost in the green of his eyes. Lost, in the lilt of his Polish accent and gesticulating hand motions. Then lost in the candid confessions of his other life and in his childhood stories of Eastern Europe. Then lost in a tangle of limbs and midnight talks. Then lost altogether.
This day, he was driving her new silver sedan. She was beside him. He scanned the road that stretched into the distance. She stared numb, blank and thoughtless—again.
She hardly saw the long stretch of highway in front of them. Neither had said a word since the near collision a hundred or so miles back. The sleeping six year-old girl in the back seat had remained peacefully dreaming, eyelids fluttering through the whole incident.
They had been stuck behind a lumbering motor home, on a curving stretch of Highway One in Northern California. He had been creeping the car over onto the center line, to see around the meandering behemoth, looking for a way around. He abruptly maneuvered them into the path of an oncoming vehicle. She saw the beady headlights shine white, looking into her. A scream escaped her throat. In the inertia of careening back into the proper lane, her body wrenched towards him, then forward into the dash. A blur of gray, blue and light. She braced herself, imagining the front bumper of their vehicle catching and tearing, the rear bumper of the motor home. She waited, but nothing.
She cringed, pulling her body back into the seat. She jerked back to see what had happened. The other car, a dark blue Honda skidded off the road, thumped along the shoulder, then the car was nearly enveloped in a cloud of dust. No sound but the rushing and pumping in her ears.
Her hands moved up to her face, wiped at the wet and salt—at the stickiness. Her throat hurt. She swallowed a salty, metallic lump.
“Stop! We have to stop,” she sputtered, then looked back behind them and saw the man out of his car, walking behind the vehicle, inspecting it, then looking down the highway towards them. Stasio kept driving.
“He’s fine. We’re fine,” His eyes on the road, he waved the air, like a fly was bothering him.
“We have to stop. You nearly caused an accident.”
She looked him. Her words barely registered on his face. “Idiots,” he was all he muttered, shaking his head.
Face numb, wordless, she had sat for all the miles since. How many times had he made her feel afraid? Sometimes he would admit he had been a little “out there.” He sometimes he admitted he had driven dangerously, but justified, saying she “made him crazy”
They had a connection. They did talk in the middle of the night. When she would wake from a dream, he would subtly shift and mumble Tell me about it, beautiful. He understood the both the dreamer in her, and the part of her that just knew some things. In his own way, he had given her more than any man ever had.
She glanced back at her daughter, now awake. Katie smiled into the brown eyes that were just like hers. Her hand went to up to cover the twitch in her cheek.
“You’re awake.” The girl gave her mother a fuzzy smile and stretched in her car seat. Katie extended a juice box to the child.
“Hey Liza girl, here’s the grape juice you started earlier.” Liza took the offering and simply held it.
“Just set it in the holder, if you want to save it for later.”
Katie turned back to face the road and remembered. She remembered a day last spring, when she had come home from work in the early afternoon. She slipped her arms around his neck as he sat designing someone’s home remodel at his laptop.
“Come with me,” she had said, holding out her hand for his. They drank deeply from the well that afternoon. They had made love and laughed and afterwards, ate fruit in bed.
“Let’s have a little late lunch at the Pine Tavern?” She had invited, not wanting the afternoon to end. His face had darkened. His nostrils flared.
“When will it ever be enough for you?” He went on to list all he had just done for her, adding how he had taken time out of his day to please her.
“Eh, no thank you, maybe?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” He had stepped into her space, so close her nose nearly touched his bare sternum. Her lips parted and she had looked down, avoiding his eyes. She crossed her arms over her bare breasts. How had it become this?
“Let me get this straight,” she said, resting her forehead into her fingertips. “You’re mad because I asked you out to lunch?”
She shook her head and looked up in his eyes. She held up her palm to stop him.
“Forget it. Don’t answer,” then she added, “I’m going to shower before I take myself out to lunch and head back to work.” She pivoted quickly, entered the bathroom and locked the door. Once behind the door, she had slid to the floor and covered her face. Her brain filled with thick fog.
A harsh knock rapped out a rhythm on the door. She jerked away from it like it had bitten her. She twisted her body, stared through the inanimate white painted thing with accusation. She knew he was on the other side. She rose and pivoted the shower knob and stepped into the warm water. She hummed the French children’s song Alouette. She had her own special lyrics for this childhood song. Special little words for times like this. She hummed very loudly, hoping he’d hear her and would know what she was calling him.
She shook off the memory. Her eyes settled on a spot further down the highway. They were approaching a town. She let her eyes glance out towards the ocean, or where she knew the ocean was. Why would they put industrial buildings right on the coast?
“What do you think about stopping in Fort Bragg for the night?” She braced herself for his dismissal, knowing he would want to press on, to arrive in San Francisco by dark.
“Okay,” he surprised her, “you want to stay in a B and B?”
Maybe he was sorry. Maybe he was beginning to understand.
?
??And, you will pay because this trip is for your Grandmother’s funeral, right?” She turned too quickly to face him, and almost turned away. She looked closer at him. His face seemed puffy, oily. His attention on the road, she regarded him longer. She always thought of him as good looking. His dark hair was straight and fine and framed his large face. Now, she thought, the regal Polish nose seemed—bulbous, the full lips—arrogant, entitled. You know? She thought, not nice, just isn’t all that handsome. He didn’t notice her studying him.
She turned away, nostrils rounded, mouth flattened into a hard line. One huff of a laugh escaped through her nose. She thought about the fact that he nearly killed them a few miles back, and now she was mad because he wasn’t going to pay. At least she was no longer numb. At least she was no longer afraid. Beginning to understand, or sorry, weren’t places he was going to visit any day soon.
She pointed to a quaint white sign that simply read “Fort Bragg Bed and Breakfast.” He swept the wheel and parked beside the building. She felt him looking at her now. She reached for the door handle. His hand went to her arm, his palm hot and moist.
“I want you.” His breath smelled of overcooked burger, pickles and French fry grease. Looking away, she slipped from under his touch. She nodded to the innkeeper who had come out to stand on the wooden stoop, flanked with flower boxes.
Without looking at him she held out her hand, waiting for her car keys. His brows shot up. He hesitated, then handed them to her.
“Relax here. I’ll eh, take care of it.”
Katie got out of the car stiffly. She rubbed her tired back and looked into the fresh-faced smile of the innkeeper. Curly blonde hair escaped a low ponytail at the back of her long neck. A ruffled, flower print apron, tied at the waist, rode over her tight dark blue jeans and purple tank top.
“Jess Morgan,” the innkeeper said, extending her hand. Her pale blue eyes regarded Katie openly. Katie smiled, taking the woman’s hand.
“Katie Wong.”
The two women slipped through the living area of the 1920’s era bungalow. The dark wood floors shown in the late afternoon light.
“You added on a sunroom,” Katie paused, “to a bungalow?”
“I know. Not exactly period appropriate, but I need the light. These old houses can be so dark.”
“No, it’s perfect,” Katie commented, imagining a nap in the warm, light filled space. “I think I would do the very same thing.”
She came into a surprisingly modern kitchen. The credit card machine and office implements were at the end of a steel countertop.
Katie reached in her black backpack styled purse and slipped out a credit card from a bulging wallet. “Just close it out now. We’re leaving early.” Katie added, as she rummaged through her bag for Chap Stick.
Innkeeper Jess nodded.
“Lawrence, you in there?” she called into the kitchen.
A screen door swung into the room. “Right here,” he answered, dusting off his dirt covered leather gloves. He looked like a very big, muscular version of his sister. Clad in khaki shorts and green oxford shirt.
“Show Mr. Wong and his daughter the O’Conner Room.”
Katie smiled. “Lit major?”
“Yes. All the rooms are named after famous authors.” The innkeeper shook her head like she was remembering something. “My parents said I was nuts, and I would never make a living, but hey, look at me now.” She gestured like a stage actress, who had just finished a stellar performance. “Lawrence is still in college,” she gestured over her shoulder, and then patted him on the She smiled and headed back out the door. “He’s doing the football thing at Humboldt.” There was light in her eyes. “A lineman.”
Katie slipped the card into its leather slot in her paper laden wallet. She folded the thing closed, unable to snap it; she simply released it to tumble into her pack.
“You must teach?” Katie the tossed the bag over shoulder. God, she was tired. She let her eyes rest on the floor. Her brows knit together. She smelled jasmine. It reminded her of something, something long ago. When she glanced up, she was startled by the deep blue eyes steady on her. “Sorry. Long trip.” The two regarded each other for a moment, and then Jess smiled.
“I did teach. Just for awhile. Middle school,” Jess paused, and then continued, “now my brother and I run the B and B together. My parents left the house to us, a couple of years back.
My dad would roll over in his grave to see that sunroom on the front of his little chunk of history.”
“So, he was into maintaining the historical integrity? The house, was it ever on the Historic Register?”
“It was. The house was built by one of the original founders of Fort Bragg.” Jess placed the curled credit card receipt and the key to the cottage in a hotel envelop and handed it to Katie.
“You’re in that sweet yellow and white number, just across the way.” She pointed. “Feel free to come in and enjoy the space. It’s perfect in the mid morning this time of year, and the password for the Wi-Fi is in the envelop.”
Katie walked back through the living room. She paused and closed her eyes. She made her way outside and down the stairs and stood for awhile on the concrete landing. She watched the procession of the dark man, the little girl and the innkeeper’s giant of a brother. She tried to remember his name. Lawrence. Yes, Lawrence. She liked Jess and Lawrence. When she was with them, she felt her unease lift just a little.
Katie regarded Stasio. She grimaced. Why had she said yes to his proposal?
When they first met, she thought his foreign mannerisms were exotic. His directness excited her. Things had changed since then.
Ah, then there was Miss Liza: her daughter. Katie watched her. The whip-smart child always seemed to find a way to amuse herself. As the little girl pulled her kid-sized sporty blue case, she hopped, like a frog from imaginary lily pad to imaginary lily pad. Katie felt her chest tighten. Her nose burned. She couldn’t let her daughter believe this was how it’s supposed to be between a man and a woman.
“Don’t get wet Mom,” she called over her shoulder. Katie hopped off the concrete landing onto one of the imaginary pads, and turned and waved to Jess, who had come out onto the small side porch. Katie looked down at the envelope with the receipt and key. She folded the stiff paper and stuffed it into the front pocket of her handmade sweater.
As she passed the window of the inn’s dining room, she glanced at her barely discernible reflection. A young couple with matching white laptops smiled at her through the glass. She nodded to them. They must see a happy family. Mr. and Mrs. Wong and daughter...
“Hey Katie, you got a minute.” Katie turned to see the innkeeper heading her way with some sort of baked item on a napkin.
“I need your opinion.”
That night, Katie lay in bed, next to Stasio. They both looked at up at the ceiling. He was breathing in labored sighs. His arms were crossed. He looked over at her for an explanation. She had none.
She had come back to the cottage without Liza, long after she told him she would return. It was nearly dark when she ambled in. He got hopeful at the thought of them being alone, but she had maneuvered around him and stepped into the shower, after locking the door.
Jess and Lawrence had taken her and Liza to Glass Beach. The four of them had spent many hours collecting various colors of rock-sanded glass. As her hands sifted through pebbles and bits of color, she started to look closely at what she deemed her utterly ridiculous life. Then she found a glass chunk that had a column shape with a slightly bulbous end. “Hey, you guys, check this out.” She started to laugh. Then she laughed harder. Then, she dropped to her knees into the sand and held her belly as the surly convulsions washed over her. Then tears wetted her cheeks and liquid flowed from her nose. Lawrence had taken Liza to play in the surf, while Jess held her. Her body shuddered with pent up sobs. She gasped for air and choked out half sentences.
“I’m so stupid. How did I get here? He’s a fu... farce.
..What is Liza going to believe about men... about relationship... love... life.” She blurted, cried and waved her hands, cried some more, then after a time laughed again.
Jess put her palm at the side of Katie’s head. Her deep blue eyes searched the woman’s brown ones. Steady, she focused into one eye, then the other. Pools formed in the rims of sets. “You’re beautiful Katie. You’re younger than you know.” The taller, blonder woman glanced down into the glass and sand, and then raised her gaze to look into the wet-face of the other. “I see new courage when I look at you. I see resolve.” She paused then continued. “You know what you need to do, for both you and Liza.”
Laying in bed with Stasio, Katie wasn’t sure how it had come to be this way, but somehow, Katie had left her caring (of what he thought) on the beach that day. She left the fear of his reaction. She left the tangle of memories that merged this dangerous man with another dangerous man, who had towered over her for most of her childhood. Energy pumped through her body now, awakening dormant places of feminine strength and maternal resolve. She could hear the beat of her heart in her ears. Her breathing was deep and even. Her mind raced with possibility.
“Where’s Liza?” He asked. He wasn’t curious about where she was when he thought it might mean time alone with her.
“The innkeeper’s ten year-old cousin and Liza got on so well at dinner, they wanted to have a sleepover.”
His head whipped to face her. “At dinner?” She said nothing. He let out an exaggerated sigh and looked over at her. He sighed again. Looked over again. Nothing. She was in another place. Her brows scrunched and her head moved off the pillow as she made out shadowy Rorschach animals on the ceiling. In the plaster, she saw a motley hyena with a bulbous Polish nose; a lithe gazelle bounding away. He rolled towards her. She felt his eyes on her, but she continued her ceiling watching.
“You could have called.”
“I could have.”
“I know how you can make this up to me.” He ran his hand down her arm. She shuddered. She sat up and turned towards him.
“Make this up to you?” Her mouth open, eyebrows in her hairline. “No. I don’t think so.” She sat for a moment gathering momentum. “This isn’t going to work, Stasio. I’m sorry... No wait, I’m not sorry...” She shook her head, and then looked over at him. “I’m afraid too often. And, I don’t trust you.” She looked down into the recesses of her mind, a pent up storm gathering velocity. “I appreciate how honest you’ve been, really. You have told me about who you are and what you have done in your life, but, eh, this,” she gestured with her hands, “YOU don’t work for me.”
“You asked. I told you.” He defended. “Nobody is without a past, Katie. I’m simply honest enough to have told you. And you. You were like Gestapo. You assumed...”
“You are right. You did tell me. I was like Gestapo. Someone else will appreciate your honesty.”
“No other man is going to love you like I do.”
“I’m okay with that.” She took a breath, exhaled slowly and turned to face him. “I’m even okay with nobody loving me at all.” She paused for a moment, and then continued. “When we were in the car today, I was scared. I thought we were going to die. My face was bloody. Liza could have been hurt, because I decided to date a fu... idiot!” Tears were rolling. Her breaths were labored. “I have been scared many times with you Stasio. Being with you just feels bad. It feels really bad, really often.”
“What? I was supposed to stay behind that freaking motor home, going thirty on the highway?” She adjusted the flowered coverlet over her bare legs. She tried to slow her breaths. She noticed the swirling of freehand stitches, outlining the impressionistic pattern. She fingered the paths, knowing she was at a crossroads. She let a big breath empty from her lungs. She let her eyes close. She turned only her head towards him, but he spoke first.
“Yeah? All the way to San Francisco?” His hands gesticulated like some manic conductor.
“You can do whatever you want, Stasio. Drive however you want. Just not with me.” She could see his confusion. This wasn’t going how it normally went.
“Come on, baby. I’ll be better. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Hmmm...let me think.” She sat looking ahead. “Nah. I think, not. This doesn’t work on so many levels.”
“Really? That’s not what you said the other night.”
She knew he was grasping now. Her response to him was a card he always played. “That’s not enough Stasio. Not even close. Sex isn’t some panacea, that’s going to make it okay, or fix what’s terribly... irrevocably... ridiculously wrong between us.” She was the one heavy sighing now. There was the familiar pain in her chest, in a high rib on the right side. The place that reminded her to be careful, to not let things get out of hand, like some vestigial alarm button evolved in childhood, to ensure survival. “Okay here it is: You never really wanted just me. Even after you put this ring on my hand, you never really stopped looking.”
“I did. I was never unfaithful to you! You have no proof!”
“You know it’s true, Stasio. We talked about the e-mails. And, that aside, I don’t feel loved. Not on any level. And, when I’m afraid, you say I’m being unreasonable. I want someone who cares when I’m afraid.”
“You were unreasonable.”
“Okay, so I’m unreasonable,” her palms flopped outward. She then looked at the diamond engagement ring. She grasped both sides and pulled. The thing pulled at her flesh and wouldn’t budge over the knuckle. She stuck her finger in her mouth. She looked over at him. His face reddened. She quickly looked away and pulled hard at the white gold band and brilliant diamond. With a final yank, her elbow hit the headboard. She winced, but her finger was free. She extended the saliva laden circle and stone to him. He sneered at it, nose scrunched in disgust.
“It’s just spit Stasio. You’ve held worse,” she challenged. “I won’t offer it again. Take it or not. I don’t care.”
“So what now?”
“Liza and I are headed to my great grandma’s funeral—without you.”
“What? You are going to leave me here?”
“This is important to me. This is a major milestone in my family. My Grandmother was...” She breathed for a moment and decided not to go on in that vein. “I don’t want you there.”
He turned towards her. “You bitch. You would leave me here?” He repeated, hands waving, searching for words.
She turned her eyes away from him and let them rest, just out of focus, through the sliding glass door. She noticed green beans, fragrant herbs and root vegetables grew in the space that resided in the space between the cottage and the main house. She had picked peppermint for the tea she had shared with Jess and Lawrence after they had returned from the beach. She turned her gaze to him. “Yes. I would leave you here.”
He tossed the covers aside, swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood naked beside the bed. With fist and index poised, he was ready to start his verbal barrage.
Ring. Katie flinched. She sat open-mouthed for a moment, and then threw the covers back. She stretched to pick up the hotel style phone from its cradle.
“Hello?” Katie knew who it was. She listened and nodded for a moment, then answered, “I’m not sure actually.” She moved the phone away from her face and gave him a questioning look. “It’s the front desk, the innkeeper. Are we okay Stasio?” He shot her a dangerous look. His eyes hard. His jaw clenched.
“Nope, Jess. Definitely not okay. Lawrence still around?” She covered the receiver.
“Look, idiot,” she shook the receiver at him. “I’m not traveling another mile with you.” She looked down, wide awake, and heart pounding. “You’re just icky. Really icky. I don’t like being with you. You’re not fun. You’re not nice. It’s over.”
A hard, urgent knock tapped on the door. “It’s Lawrence. You guys okay in there?”
Katie looked at the door. “He’s here Jess. Got to go.” She turned a
nd looked at Stasio. The surprise etched into his regal bone structure. She started for the door.
“Crap. I’ll go. I can’t believe this.” He picked up his jeans from the bedside table and pulled them on.
She pulled the door open.
“Hi,” she said simply. The young man, hair scruffy from sleep, scratched his head and looked down in her eyes, waiting. Katie was glad for the young man’s 6’4” powerfully built frame. She looked back at Stasio, slender and just under six feet. He had his back to them, zipping his blue jeans. “I think he’s just about to head out.” A quivering smile broke her lips. Her hand flew to cover it. Lawrence looked up at the doorframe and shook his head. “I’ll wait outside.” He slid down on the bench outside the door and closed his eyes, arms crossed over his chest.
She swung the door slowly, leaving it ajar.
Stasio made his way, stiff armed and grim faced, to the closet. He ripped the plastic dry cleaning bag from a hanger and picked up the neatly folded dirty items, and stuffed them in. He circled over to the bathroom vanity and swept all the items from the counter into his toiletries’ bag. His face gray with rage, large nose puffing.
He looked dangerous, but she didn’t care. “You have my moisturizer, toothbrush, cleanser and Liza’s toothbrush.” He looked down at the cell phone she held, then slowly up her body, lingering at her breasts before meeting her eyes. He stepped closer to her. So close, she could smell the limey-spiciness of his deodorant. The smell was thick and settled at the back of her tongue. She flinched, pondered, looking down for a moment. Then she met his eyes.
“Really?” She flipped open her cell phone. He lunged and knocked the cell from her hand. She screamed.
“I sorry,” he said quickly, startled by his own actions. Then his face screwed up in anger again, and he groped for words. “You bitch,” He turned, taking a straight path to the bathroom, arms swinging, and nose puffing like a steam engine.
“Watch out for...” but she was too late. His body went rigid, arms flying up, and feet sliding. He crashed down hard, tailbone to tile, and slid into the tub at the end of the bathroom. “...for Liza’s tutu... the wet floor”
“Ahhhhhrrrggg,” he screamed, fists pounding on the floor. He twisted around to look at her. He glared into her eyes. “My god damn back!” he accused. Then his fist pounding came in unison, two fists pumping down, again and again. The guttural sounds that rasped from his throat sounded more like the yowls of a cat, than a man. He held his head with one hand and palmed his lower back with the other. “Not again. Look what you made me do, you...”
She stood, mouth agape, staring and wordless. Then she heard a creak of the opening door. “Come in,” she yelled over her shoulder.
He struggled, shifting in pain. His voice hoarse: “I loved you. You loved me,” words tore from his throat. He turned to face her again. His eyes pleaded. He slowly rolled over on to all fours, and then to his knees. He trudged to her, “C’mon Katie, you know we’re good together.”
She backed slowly away from him, her eyes round. She notices the bright red on his knee and hand. His eyes were bloodshot. His hands shook. “Maybe, we once were, good sometimes, maybe,” she whispered, not seeing, mouthing words, “but this doesn’t feel how I need love to feel. I want more than this.” She studied the groveling man. She looked into the pleading, watery eyes. “I’m tired of being afraid, Stasio.”
“When I’m deep inside you...” he started. She almost laughed, then felt the lump and the burn, and looked at the ceiling trying not to cry. He went on. He feebly searched for words. “Gswno...” he said in Polish, and then looked down, confused. Then he found a few words and stood. “I bring you alive, more alive than you have ever been.” His accent was thicker now. She looked down at his hands that were clenched at the end of limp arms.
“Maybe. But, that’s me, alive, more alive than I’ve ever been. Not you.” Pity rose in her throat, yellow and bitter. He had alluded to things that had happened to him on the streets of Warsaw. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you, Stasio. I just need more for Liza and me.” She stood, feeling weak and suddenly more exhausted than she could remember. “Please just go. I can’t help you, with what happened...”
His body went rigid. He dropped the bag he was holding and closed the distance between them.
“I trusted you,” he lunged. She covered her face, bracing for what she knew would come.
“Lawrence!” she screamed through her hands.
“Dude, now!” Lawrence now stood behind Stasio. The blonde man was half a head taller, and half again as wide, than the slender dark haired man.
“Dude, really.” Lawrence reached for Stasio’s shoulder, “Time for you to go.” Stasio swung away, and looked up into the face of the younger man. A sneer flattened the full lips. The light eyes flashed. Lawrence stepped back. His lips parted.
“Please Stasio. your visa.” He stiffened, stopped for a moment. She had retrieved her phone and was fingering “911” while continuing to look at the two men.
“I’ll go. Don’t call policia.” He threw his bag over his shoulder and scooped the plastic one off the floor. His eyes assessed Lawrence, then Katie. He shook his head, reason seeming to return. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than me.” He put down plastic bag and reached out a shaking hand. He wants to shake my hand? She looked at quivering appendage. She looked at the pathetic man. Her head pivoted side to side.
“No.” She whispered. She saw pain in the light blue green eyes, pain no amount of love could heal. “Good-bye Stasio.”
“Okay,” he breathed. He picked up the bag, turned and walked into the night.
Katie didn’t realize she had been holding her breath, until she gasped for air, still looking at the open door. Lawrence turned and nodded. She began to shake, and he quickly covered the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her.
“It’s going to be okay,” he assured her.
“Hmm, I don’t think I quite knew how that would go,” she looked down, brows furrowed, “I’ve never done anything like that.”
“Come into the main house. It won’t quiet for much longer. The kitchen staff will arrive and start cooking soon, but that eh... well, he looks like a wild card. He’ll probably settle down and move on, but you just want to play it safe.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. She pulled her hoodie over her head and began to shiver. She clenched her jaw to stop the chattering of her teeth.
“Hey, it’s life. You made a mistake. We all do, Katie.” Lawrence turned and looked out the door. He watched Stasio walk out into the night, and pause under the street light. The two faced each other for a time. Lawrence bowed his head slowly, never losing eye contact.
“He’s still there. Just moving on,” he said to Katie, his focus still out in the street.
“I could have done that better. It got a little crazy. I’ve never challenged him like that before.” Her hand shook as she moved a lock of hair from her face. “Something in me just couldn’t lie there anymore. I was beginning to hate me. And somehow, it all began to look different, clearer, since the beach today. Or wow, I guess that was yesterday...”
“Yeah, my sister’s said something like that before. She’s said ‘You know you have got to leave when you can’t stand the woman in the mirror’ or something like that.” He patted her back. Katie agreed. Lawrence turned off the lights and started out the door, then headed down the path to the main house. Katie walked through the door after him and closed it behind them. She then, ambled along behind, moving from stone to stone. She turned and glanced back to the little yellow cottage. The porch light dimly lit the square landing, where Lawrence had sat on the concrete bench.
She turned back to the stone trail. She carefully placed her foot on the next stone, smooth and light gray, it accepted her shaking weight.
She pondered the main house, which sat solid in front of them. The recessed lights, shining down, lit the big sitting porch in golden light, like a gentle beaco
n. White wicker furniture, with blue and white cushions adorned the gray painted porch.
“Mama,” Katie heard a little voice call, then the creaking swing of the screen door. Jess and Liza emerged onto the stoop. Liza let go of Jess’ hand and she ran to her mother. The little child was grinning, looking up into her mother’s eyes. “We’re making blueberry pancakes Mom, come see.” Katie let Liza take her hand and let herself be led into the warm kitchen. On entering, her nose filled with the sweet smell of grilling cakes and fragrant fruit.
Katie pulled her daughter to her and hugged her from behind, then whispered in her ear. “Perfect, sweet girl. This is just what I wanted. How did you know?”
Liza turned to her mother and smiled. “I just knew.”