happened
when you were least prepared. When you had other stuff to think
about, and this worst thing was the last thing on your mind. For
months Sarah had steeled herself to hear a particular voice every
time the phone rang. She had avoided anywhere she thought a
particular person might go, while secretly knowing that one day she
would see him and she would of course behave perfectly.
Wasn’t going
to happen like that today.
She saw him
coming in from the terrace bar. He had a redhead with him. Who
looked happy and was laughing. The way Sarah used to look when she
was in his company.
Sarah had
looked happy with him right here in this lobby, in fact. She had
brought him to this place, given it to him like a gift. To Creep,
the Craigmore Hotel, with all my love. Kind of shyly, not knowing
if it was to his taste. Hopeful, because if it was to his taste,
then something more was proved about their being together. She had
totaled up those little proofs for herself all the time.
She had gifted
him the terrace bar overlooking the lake, the little still life
near the telephone alcove that no-one else ever noticed, the row of
vodka bottles behind the bar with their wintry designs etched on
the inside of the glass, so that they were magnified and made magic
by the clear liquid.
In fact, she’d
gifted him the whole of the Adirondack State Park – the cold, clear
lakes, the forested islands in Lake George with their rickety boat
docks and lakeward-looking summer homes, the hiking trails, the
headwaters of the Hudson River shallow over the pebbly rocks, the
painted wooden signs along 9N, announcing Still Bay and Diamond
Cove.
The Craigmore
Hotel wasn’t his, to come to with new redheads, for God’s sake! It
belonged to her. The entire Adirondack region should have come to
her indisputably after their split, like her share of the DVD
collection in a property settlement, or like a friend who’d taken
her side after the divorce. It hadn’t been a shy gift after all, it
had been a short-term loan, with strings.
And the word
divorce was misleading, too. They hadn’t actually been married, but
they’d been together for nearly four years.
They had
broken up three days before Emma’s invitations went out. Two main
reasons, one of them being that Creep thought Sarah sacrificed too
much of her free time to Billy.
On learning
the news about the split, Emma’s priorities had as usual been fully
in place. She’d caringly offered to go back to the printer and have
Sarah’s invitation reprinted to read ‘and Guest’ instead of ‘and
Creep’ but Sarah had told her sister it didn’t matter.
Seeing him
here mattered.
“Hey-y!” He
could have pretended not to see her, she’d done half the work on
that for him already, carefully staring into the distance above his
right shoulder, his face a blot like a sun-spot in her lower
vision, but he wasn’t the kind of person who felt the need for
avoidance strategies. Instead he’d abandoned the redhead and come
over with a smile of welcome and his hands out in greeting. “Sarah!
What are you doing here?”
An appalling
question from so many angles that she couldn’t even count them.
She blurted
out, “It’s supposed to be Emma’s wedding today, but it’s been
canceled. We had to pick up some stuff.”
“That was
today?” Creep said. “I totally forgot.”
Yes. Of course
you did. I was always the walking calendar. You went with the
flow.
“Don’t worry
about it.”
And leave now,
don’t ask for details on the cancelation, because here come Mom and
Billy, and I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want Mom
feeling bad for me. Or failing to feel sufficiently bad for me. Or
feeling inadequate because she knows she’s not feeling sufficiently
bad for me. Or anything.
Creep picked
up her vibe, deposited another cheery grin, “So good to see you…”
and moved on.
“Who was
that?” Mom asked. With her arms weighed down by too many
centerpieces and her vision
when you were least prepared. When you had other stuff to think
about, and this worst thing was the last thing on your mind. For
months Sarah had steeled herself to hear a particular voice every
time the phone rang. She had avoided anywhere she thought a
particular person might go, while secretly knowing that one day she
would see him and she would of course behave perfectly.
Wasn’t going
to happen like that today.
She saw him
coming in from the terrace bar. He had a redhead with him. Who
looked happy and was laughing. The way Sarah used to look when she
was in his company.
Sarah had
looked happy with him right here in this lobby, in fact. She had
brought him to this place, given it to him like a gift. To Creep,
the Craigmore Hotel, with all my love. Kind of shyly, not knowing
if it was to his taste. Hopeful, because if it was to his taste,
then something more was proved about their being together. She had
totaled up those little proofs for herself all the time.
She had gifted
him the terrace bar overlooking the lake, the little still life
near the telephone alcove that no-one else ever noticed, the row of
vodka bottles behind the bar with their wintry designs etched on
the inside of the glass, so that they were magnified and made magic
by the clear liquid.
In fact, she’d
gifted him the whole of the Adirondack State Park – the cold, clear
lakes, the forested islands in Lake George with their rickety boat
docks and lakeward-looking summer homes, the hiking trails, the
headwaters of the Hudson River shallow over the pebbly rocks, the
painted wooden signs along 9N, announcing Still Bay and Diamond
Cove.
The Craigmore
Hotel wasn’t his, to come to with new redheads, for God’s sake! It
belonged to her. The entire Adirondack region should have come to
her indisputably after their split, like her share of the DVD
collection in a property settlement, or like a friend who’d taken
her side after the divorce. It hadn’t been a shy gift after all, it
had been a short-term loan, with strings.
And the word
divorce was misleading, too. They hadn’t actually been married, but
they’d been together for nearly four years.
They had
broken up three days before Emma’s invitations went out. Two main
reasons, one of them being that Creep thought Sarah sacrificed too
much of her free time to Billy.
On learning
the news about the split, Emma’s priorities had as usual been fully
in place. She’d caringly offered to go back to the printer and have
Sarah’s invitation reprinted to read ‘and Guest’ instead of ‘and
Creep’ but Sarah had told her sister it didn’t matter.
Seeing him
here mattered.
“Hey-y!” He
could have pretended not to see her, she’d done half the work on
that for him already, carefully staring into the distance above his
right shoulder, his face a blot like a sun-spot in her lower
vision, but he wasn’t the kind of person who felt the need for
avoidance strategies. Instead he’d abandoned the redhead and come
over with a smile of welcome and his hands out in greeting. “Sarah!
What are you doing here?”
An appalling
question from so many angles that she couldn’t even count them.
She blurted
out, “It’s supposed to be Emma’s wedding today, but it’s been
canceled. We had to pick up some stuff.”
“That was
today?” Creep said. “I totally forgot.”
Yes. Of course
you did. I was always the walking calendar. You went with the
flow.
“Don’t worry
about it.”
And leave now,
don’t ask for details on the cancelation, because here come Mom and
Billy, and I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want Mom
feeling bad for me. Or failing to feel sufficiently bad for me. Or
feeling inadequate because she knows she’s not feeling sufficiently
bad for me. Or anything.
Creep picked
up her vibe, deposited another cheery grin, “So good to see you…”
and moved on.
“Who was
that?” Mom asked. With her arms weighed down by too many
centerpieces and her vision
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