Restless Waters
Shall we plan for a spring visit? I miss my room at the Maine house, but I miss you even more.
All my love,
Annie
She’s slipped in a small piece of paper with a web address, which I find very curious, so I retrieve my laptop from the end table and type it in.
She’s put together a video compilation.
Oh God.
Music plays while images of me and James and my parents move before my eyes. I immediately burst into tears at seeing the videos and photographs. There are formal posed stills from my parents’ wedding, pictures of my mother pregnant with me, video of her talking to the camera and rubbing her stomach, followed by hospital pictures of a newborn me in a bassinet. Later, my mother is shown pregnant with James, and I see a video of me holding him for the first time.
There are a bunch of pictures of me in daycare. I don’t know if the staff there took them and gave them to my parents or if Mom and Dad came in. I barely remember this place. I just have some hazy memories. I do know that I liked it there, that I was happy. There are a few pictures of me with two little boys. In one, I am standing between them, holding hands, and in another, we are all lying on the floor with our chins in our hands, listening to the teacher read a story. I smile at these because this was a time in which everything was easy, blissful.
I had no idea a fire would take half my family and leave James and me destroyed.
I also had no idea that I would survive that tragedy, that I would rebuild.
There’s video of my family, presumably taken by my father. My mother is holding a young James on her lap, and I’m having some kind of toddler tantrum.
“Where Bingo?”
“I don’t know,” my mother says. “Look on the toy shelf, Blythe.”
“Here it is. There,” my father says from behind the camera. He stretches an arm and retrieves a game from under the coffee table. “Here’s Bingo! She likes the farm animals on the tokens,” he tells my mother.
But I bat away the game. “No! Where Bingo? Where Bingo?”
“Not this one? Don’t cry, honey. Do we have another?” my mother asks as she touches a hand to my face and wipes away my tears. “I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with Bingo these days. We’ll have to find another version that she likes better.”
My toddler face crumples, and the adult me almost has to laugh at the pathetically sad face I’m making.
“My kiss?”
My mom leans over and smooches my cheek, but I push her away while wrinkling my face and rubbing my eyes.
“My kiss, my kiss,” I whimper.
My dad kisses me now, too, but I’m clearly not satisfied.
Mom sighs. “I think someone needs a nap.”
“I totally do. It’s exhausting being a parent,” my father jokes.
I clap my hand over my mouth and nearly crack under the emotion when I hear my mother laughing at him. The sound of their voices…is too much and not nearly enough.
I watch my mother put down James, and he toddles for a moment and then sits on the floor to play with blocks. Mom picks me up and holds me against her, stroking my hair.
“My kiss, Mama? My kiss.”
She rocks me and pats my back, kissing my head and trying to soothe me.
“Where Bingo?” My tired voice gets softer as I talk myself to sleep in her arms. “Kiss, my kiss…”
“Kisses and Bingo,” my mother whispers. She looks at the camera and smiles. “Is she out yet?”
“Yeah. Sleepy girl today,” my father says softly.
I didn’t know we had any of these early videos. Annie must have found them on my parents’ computer or in some of the boxes she helped clear out from the house. My entire life seems to pan before me. The movie Annie’s made shows me in grade school, middle school, and high school. There are no graduation photos though because that was after the fire. By then, I’d pushed Annie out of my life, and Aunt Lisa was too selfish and thoughtless to think to capture the moment. Of course, I was a walking zombie during that time, so I’m not sure I’d want to see myself as I was back then anyway.
I pause the video when a family photo of the four of us flashes. This was taken just days before the fire. My father put the camera on a self-timer and then ran to stand with us. He had to try this almost a dozen times before he made it back in time to the top of the huge boulder we were sitting on, so by the time he got the picture, we were all laughing. This is the best picture I’ve ever seen.
I watch the movie two more times. When I am done, I am left with an ache that I cannot resolve. Annie would never intentionally upset me, and I’m sure she thought enough time had passed that seeing these images wouldn’t hurt me so much. In some ways, they don’t.
Right now, I feel everything—joy, pain, loss, elation, love, anger…
My phone rings, and I look down. It’s Sabin. I let it ring a few times while I sniff and clear my throat.
“Hi,” I say.
“Did I tell you that Mia is a rescue horse?” he says.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, she is. Pearce went to a horse auction, looking for a younger horse, but he found Mia. She’s twelve, and no one was going to take her, not because of her age though. Twelve isn’t old for a horse. She’s phobic about water. Won’t go near it apparently. You pretty much get one chance to teach a horse that water isn’t a danger. They don’t understand that they won’t fall through a puddle. Don’t like when they can’t see the bottom of things, where they go. They have to learn. Mia obviously had some kind of traumatic experience with water that we’ll never know about, so she wasn’t an appealing horse at the auction. There are people who go to those auctions just to buy up horses for meat for France and Japan. Killers, they’re called. Pearce ended up bidding against some of those guys. He overpaid and saved her. She wasn’t what he was looking for. She’s not perfect, but he loves her.”
The sound of his guitar trickles through the phone, and I listen silently for a while.
Sabin waits me out.
I shut my laptop and close my eyes. “She doesn’t have to be perfect. That’s okay. She’s perfect for you.”
“She is.”
“I’m glad he saved her.”
“Me, too.” Sabin plucks out a few notes. “Blythe?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry.”
I start crying.
“Ah, shit, B. Please don’t cry. I’m not worth it. I’m just a complete tool.”
“It’s not you,” I get out. “Well, not just you. Annie sent me this movie thing she made…with all these pictures. Seeing my parents again…before this, I haven’t really looked at many pictures at all. There’s video and everything.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “It was the best and the worst.”
He lets me cry for a few minutes. “So, you know the swords that I gave you?”
“I love them.”
“I have another present for you. Your real one. Want to come over and get it?”
“Okay. Sabin? You’re not a tool,” I say. “Just prone to being snotty and mean.”
“I know.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
I tiptoe upstairs to my bedroom and gently shake Chris. “I have to go see Sabin.”
He rolls over and yawns. “Now?”
“Yeah.”
Chris opens his eyes and takes my hand. “Okay. I can’t drive you. I had three scotches, and they were all very big.”
I smile. “I know. I can drive. It’s okay.”
“Text me when you get there. And tell him I love him even though he’s a fucking moron.”
“Okay. Go back to sleep, love.”
Chris rolls over and starts snoring immediately. I tussle my fingers through his hair and watch him for a few minutes. Then, I kiss his cheek and head out.
The drive this time is easier because there’s little traffic on Christmas night. My headlights flash over Sabin, who is waiting for me in the parking area bef
ore the bridge. I get out and run into his arms, and he buries his face in my neck.
Apologies don’t have to be spoken now. It’s easy for me to forgive Sabin.
We stand in each other’s hold for what feels like an eternity, and I don’t want it to end because we are both safe and calm like this. There is no room for dead parents or hurling of insults or holiday-induced rage. There is just us.
“You’re shivering,” he says.
So, I tuck my arms up between us, and soon, his heat warms me.
“Let’s go inside, love.” Sabin rubs my back and then takes my hand in his.
We walk to the tree house, and inside, he grabs a blanket and sits me on the futon. He sits in the chair across from me, and we look at each other for a while.
This is decidedly very awkward and very comfortable.
“Do you want to tell me about the video stuff Annie sent?” he asks gently.
I shake my head. “Not really. Do you want to tell me why you freaked the fuck out today?”
He shakes his head. “Not really.”
“Should we not have come to San Diego? Was this a bad idea?”
It takes him a moment to respond. “It wasn’t a bad idea at all. I’m sorry I said what I said. I’m…I’m in a really weird place right now. I don’t know what’s going on with me, but it’s not your fault. I love you guys. And it was really cool of everyone to come here just for me.”
His words are not enough to ease the worry, but I don’t push.
“Do you want to give me my present?” I give him a small smile to let him know that we’re going to be all right.
He smiles back. “Okay.”
Sabin takes his guitar and sits back. “So, I, uh…I wrote you a song. For Christmas. It doesn’t have elves or reindeer in it, but it’s still for Christmas. It’s nothing much. I hope you don’t hate it. Just a little song, you know.” He clears his throat.
“Sabin Shepherd, are you actually nervous?”
“What? No!” Sabin rolls his eyes.
“You are! After all the times you’ve sung to me, you’re nervous. I think it’s cute.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“You shut up and start singing.”
“Fine, fine.” He sets the guitar on his leg and looks down.
From the moment he starts, I have this strong reaction to his voice, more than I usually do. He has a way of reaching into my gut and tearing at my emotions. Even when the lyrics aren’t overtly emotional, his delivery, his intensity…I am invariably pulled closer to him, and our connection is strengthened, just as it is now. The song is classically Sabin in that it’s slow and gutsy, but in its simplicity, it’s also one of the sweetest, most joyous songs he’s written.
THESE CITY LIGHTS
SHINE SO BRIGHT.
BUT ONCE A YEAR,
WE PUT ’EM IN OUR MIRROR.
DIRT ROAD ON TIRES,
FIREWOOD ON FIRE,
SNOW-COVERED HILLS,
OUR COUNTRYSIDE HILLS.
NO, I WON’T CATCH A WINK,
NOT ON THIS CHRISTMAS EVE,
’CAUSE MY LOVE SHINES SO BRIGHT
IN THIS COUNTRYSIDE,
BRIGHTER THAN YOUR CITY LIGHTS.
THESE COUNTRY NIGHTS
FEEL SO RIGHT,
BUT ALL THE YEAR,
WE PUT ’EM IN OUR MIRROR.
DIRT ROAD ON TIRES,
FIREWOOD ON FIRE,
SNOW-COVERED HILLS,
OUR COUNTRYSIDE HILLS.
NO, I WON’T CATCH A WINK,
NOT ON THIS CHRISTMAS EVE,
’CAUSE MY LOVE SHINES SO BRIGHT
IN THIS COUNTRYSIDE,
BRIGHTER THAN YOUR CITY LIGHTS.
He finishes and keeps his head down.
I hardly know what to say. No one has ever written a song just for me. “Sabin, it’s so beautiful, so peaceful.”
“That’s why it’s for you.”
“Sabe…” I move from my spot and go to kneel in front of him. “You couldn’t have given me a better gift. I love it. I love it.”
Finally, he looks at me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s no expensive necklace.”
“Why would you even say that?” I shake my head. “What is this shit about?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. Again. It’s just…I don’t have that kind of connection.”
I shake my head. “What do you mean? With me? With another woman?”
“I don’t know. Forget it. I don’t want to do this.” He puts down his guitar. “Are we okay, you and me?”
“Yes, we’re okay.”
But here’s what I recognize to be undeniably true: While he and I are okay, he is not. Sabin is in pain. Of that, I am sure. I cannot tolerate seeing anyone I love hurting, and while Christopher’s trauma and the aftereffects have given me my own kind of sympathetic pain, I believe that he has a resilience that Sabin might not. And that resilience, I think, Sabin might resent.
I see vulnerability and fragility in front of me, and I would do anything to repair what is broken. I just have no idea how, and he doesn’t want to talk. There’s a push-and-pull from him that, if I’m honest with myself, started last summer. He’s either all in or shoving me and everyone else away. And I am left with no clear way to manage this.
“Let’s do something,” he says.
“What?”
“Wanna count stars?” His big smile is back.
“It’s cold out now, silly boy.”
He stands up and pulls down the ladder to the loft. “Through the skylight! How magical to be in a tree house on Christmas, right?”
“Technically, it’s the day after Christmas now.”
“Then, how magical to be in a tree house the day after Christmas, right?”
“Right. Let’s count stars.”
“After you, Lady Blythe.”
I scramble up the ladder and dive onto the futon. “I see one!” I say with a giggle.
Sabin rolls next to me and points. “And I see another.” He claps a hand over my face so that I can’t see, and he says excitedly, “And, Blythe, there’s another one! And another one! Oh, look. Another three. So, that’s six for me and just one for you. You’re not having much luck with this.”
“Sabin!” I yell. “You’re cheating! And I didn’t say this was a contest.”
He pulls away his hand. “Oh. So, we can add our stars together?”
“Yes. This is a team effort.”
We spend the next ten minutes counting real stars and making up ones that are not there until we reach an even one hundred, which we decide is a success.
I move to lie on my side and notice something new on one of his shelves. “Hey, what’s that?” I scoot over, take a snow globe from its spot, and return to lying down. “It’s so pretty.”
“Oh, yeah.” Sabin waves a hand. “That’s from Mollie, Pearce’s daughter.”
I feel around it in the relative dark up here and locate a knob that I turn. The globe lights up and plays a twinkly tune. “There’s a horse inside. It looks like Mia, huh?”
He rolls to face me, and I set the globe between us.
“I guess it does.”
“That was very nice of her.” I raise one eyebrow. “How old is this Mollie?”
He shrugs. “Our age, I guess.”
“Any chance she has a little crush going on?”
“Ha! I don’t think so. And she’s real quiet and sort of plain. Nice girl and all, but she’s not exactly my type.”
“Why? Because she’s not a parasitic paralegal paragra—”
“Oh my God!” He laughs. “No. She’s a sweet gal, but that’s it. Not exactly the love of my life.”
“You have one, you know. Somewhere out there.”
He pauses and smiles softly. “I know.” He seems embarrassed all of a sudden, and he looks down at the globe again and picks it up. The lights change from white to red to green to blue. He winds it up again and hums along to t
he tune. “I guess it is kind of cool, huh? Pearce gave me a pair of cowboy boots. Did I tell you that? Real ones, too. Not junky shit.”
“That was thoughtful of him. I think you’ve made a very nice home for yourself here.”
Sabin looks at me for a long time. So, I look back at him.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Okay, so I wasn’t going to give you this, but…” He digs into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a small fabric bag. “It’s stupid, but…well, here.”
I undo the thin drawstring and empty the bag into my hand. I have to hold it to the light coming from the snow globe, and then I smile when I see it—a unicorn charm.
“Do you know why?” he asks tentatively.
“I do.” Then, I smile, even while my eyes grow wet. “Because,” I say, “unicorns shit rainbows. And because this is about when you made me part of your family. When I was lost and scared, you helped pull me from the wreckage.”
He nods. “Yeah…and then you pulled all of us from ours.”
It’s hard to see, but I think his eyes are also brimming with tears.
He’s wrong though. I didn’t save them, not all of them.
“It’s not as nice as what Chris gave you. I know that—”
“Stop,” I say forcefully. “You stop that.” I hold my hand with the necklace against my chest. “Sabin…” I struggle for words. I don’t know how to tell him how much he means to me, how integral he is to my happiness, to my entire world. There is no way to verbalize how Sabin is as much a part of me as Chris is. So, I say the only thing that I can, “I love you.”
He puts his hand over mine, both resting over my heart. “I love you, too, Blythe.”
We’ve said I love you a thousand times. We say it without thinking and without parameters. We say it because it’s true.
This time though feels different. I can’t define how. I just know that we are more tied to each other than ever.
I move the snow globe from between us and inch closer. My fingers find the clasp on my necklace, and I undo it before slipping on the unicorn next to the sea urchin. Sabin intently watches me, and when I’m done, I wrap my arm around him and tightly hug him. Sabe rolls onto his back, settling me into the crook of his arm.