Once Upon Another Time (43 page)

I had a feeling my
father mistakenly added starch instead of fabric softener to the wash, as the
creases on his blue jeans looked sharp enough to cause paper cut.  Mother was
dressed in a beautiful beaded long Bohemian top with bell sleeves over an ankle
length skirt, and looked like an Indian princess.  Her dark hair hung in two
long braids.  The ends resembled shiny black tassels.

“They’re almost
done,” my father said, as he pitched a fork in the air.  A half-eaten potato
stuck to the tines.

“Is there room in
the oven for this?  It just needs to be heated,” Laura said, as she set a
casserole dish of baked apples, cinnamon, and raisins on the top of the stove. 
She was dressed very cosmopolitan in a pair of navy slacks and romantic white
blouse with Victorian ruffles at the cuffs.  Her long platinum hair fell in
soft ringlets around her shoulders.  She had brought her nephew, Alex.  He’d
been to the house before and was Nicholas’s age.  It was good to have them hang
out together while the grownups visited.

Gavin had passed
out sodas and drinks, while everyone milled around in the kitchen.  My parents
chattered on about the grand opening of “Good Vibrations,” while Laura and I
stood at the sink pulling Romaine lettuce leaves apart and rinsing them under
cold water.

“I can’t believe
it’s October,” Laura said, as she dropped the wet lettuce leaves in the
colander to drain.  “Just think, the last time I went on a date was August
twenty-eighth, the evening David got busted by his wife, and we got busted by
the cops.  What’s amazing is that, by spending time with myself, I’m actually
investing time in learning who I am.  Who knows, my next date could be with an
ordinary guy with an ordinary job, who drives an ordinary
pickup
truck.”

“So, you want me to
see if Gavin has any buddies that could be possible dating material?”

“Could you?” 
Laura asked eagerly. 

“Sure, I could do
that, but why the sudden departure from the ordinary millionaire?”

“My shrink has
convinced me that I’m successful and emotionally independent enough not to have
to set the criteria of dating rich men only.  Hell, my trust fund alone already
makes me rich!  Now we’re going to work on the relationship between my father
and me, and the connection to why I choose men who can’t commit.”

“Mom,” Nicholas
called out, as he slid across the hardwood kitchen floor in his stocking feet,
practically skidding into me.  “Can I have a dishtowel so I can show Alex how
my dinosaur plays tug of war?”

“Look upstairs in
the linen closet for a washcloth.  And don’t use the guest towels,” I said as
the boys bolted from the kitchen.  I turned quickly to check on the Jell-O in
the refrigerator and bumped right into Gavin.

“Honey, slow
down,” he said, as he looked at me adoringly and gave me a soft kiss on the
lips.  “I’m thinking ten more minutes on the pork roast and it should be done. 
Do you need me to help with anything?” 

Just then, a big
commotion came from the living room.  Things crashed to the floor.

“Catch him!”  I’d
heard Nicholas shout.

I turned toward
the living room to see a bird glide through the air.

“How in the heck
did a bird get in the house?” said Gavin, as we all ran into the living room.

Buster was leaping
from chair to couch to coffee table like a gazelle in flight trying to catch the
bird, as Jeb sung “Bad boys, bad boys, whacha gonna do, whacha gonna do when
they come for you.”  Sirens blared from the TV and blue strobe lights flashed,
as cop cars chased down a dark road. 

I was thankful
Buster had eaten not long before and hoped his chase was for sport only. 
However, his sensitive digestive system wasn’t known to tolerate the
combination of food and excitement.  It was his projectile vomiting that had
led me to discover that one day, while Nicholas chased him around the house right
after he’d eaten his kibbles.  

The frightened
bird took refuge ten feet above on the curtain rod over the window.  Buster,
who was perched on the back of the sofa beside the window, had a wonky look on
his face.  With one leap, he launched himself at my Dupioni silk drapes aiming
as high as possible, his needle like claws sunk into the fabric.  He swung
gaily and peered down at us. 

“Get down from
there!”  I shrieked. 

When he was a
kitten I’d try to find ways to keep him from climbing the drapes, like spraying
the curtains with lemon juice, cats hate lemon juice.  Not Buster, he loved the
condiment and dove at the drapes as if I’d doused them with the scent of Fillet
of Sole.  So I bought a water pistol to squirt him each time he approached the
drapes, cats hate water.  Not Buster, he loved the new game.  Night after
night, he’d sneak towards the drapes and hide behind them.  He’d poke his head
out and the squirting game would begin.  He’d dodge the shots, and make a dash
for it.  Up he’d go, swinging and dripping and meowing joyfully.

“Here birdie,
birdie.  C’mon, birdie, birdie.”  Jeb waved a piece of bread over his head. 

“Dad, what are you
doing?”  Gavin asked. 

“Seagulls are like
bottom feeders, they’ll eat anything,” Jeb said, waving the bread at the bird. 

“Dad, it’s a
sparrow.”

Hanging his
eighteen-pound jungle body from the top of the drapes, Buster swatted at the
scared little creature.  The poor thing tried to escape, doing a sideways
tightrope act across the top of the curtain rod.  The bird wobbled to and fro
like a rocking horse, trying to keep its balance.

“I’ll open the
front door,” Mother announced, as my father waved a broom at the bird trying to
get it in flight.  The bird screeched and took off flying around the room. 
With all the commotion, Bugs had jumped out of Nicholas’s arms and hit the
floor.  The bunny skittered sideways, his feet not able to get traction on the
slippery hardwood.  Once he’d made it to the area rug, he hopped frantically to
get away, while bonking his head under the glass coffee table.

Gavin had blocked
the bird from the kitchen while Laura jumped up to block the bird from flying
into the dining room, while I ran and closed the French doors to the study.  My
parents looked like the Keystone Cops.  Dad had the bird in flight and Mother
chased behind him.  After three spins around the living room, he finally herded
the bird out the front door.

I’d somehow
forgotten about Buster until I heard a creaking noise.  We all turned to see
him still clinging to the drapes, peering down at us with a satirical grin on
his furry face.  Within seconds, he crashed to the floor.  Unfortunately, so
did half the drapes, the rod, and swag valance!  As he ran from the room, I
looked at Laura and wanted to cry.

“It’s okay,” she
said, I always found those drapes hideous looking.”

I rolled my eyes
and thought I’d heard her say something else, but her lips weren’t moving.  I
wasn’t aware of any hidden talent she had for ventriloquism.  
Good God, my
mind reading affliction was back! 

Laura looked at me
quizzically.  “Where’s that talking coming from?”

“Um, you hear it
too?”  

“Yeah, it sounds
like me.”

“Bad boys, bad
boys,” Jeb mumbled.

We quickly turned
to gaze at the TV screen.  A fashionably dressed woman, her face blocked out with
a ghostly blur, shouted at the top of her lungs, as a series of bleeps blocked
every other word.  Another woman, her face also wiped clean of any recognizable
features, yelped like a wounded puppy as she hopped on one foot, while a
policewoman chased her in a circle to cuff her hands. 

Everyone stared at
the TV set, while Nicholas cocked his head to the side like an inquisitive
Springer spaniel pup and said, “Mom, is that you and Auntie Laura?”

A flock of
screeching seagulls circled overhead, as I stood boldly on top of the Mohegan
Buffs at Block Island.  The roar of the Atlantic’s surf pounded at the rocks
one hundred and fifty feet below.  The tourists and lively crowds had long left
the pristine beaches, leaving behind a long barren stretch of glistening white
sand. 

It wasn’t but four
months before that the emptiness of my surroundings would have reflected my
emotional state of mind.  Then Matt returned, Gavin came into my life and
everything changed.

As the late
October winds gusted up behind me, I’d finally felt ready to put closure to the
past.  Early that afternoon, I drove from Providence to Newport and took the
short ferry ride over to the island.  I was glad I didn’t tell anyone where I
was going.  Seven years I’d stayed away, but it was important for me to go back
to Block Island. 

Looking westward, the
sun was beginning its descent.  As the delicate blue sky was fading and melding
into a golden hue, I thought about Matt and that when he died I thought my
world had ended.  How could I possibly have imagined my spirit husband would be
the guiding force that helped me rebuild my life and find a new love?  He
taught me that relationships do continue after we leave this world and that
love never dies and that if you love with all your heart and with every breath,
nothing is impossible--ever.

I pulled my red
wool sweater tightly around my body to block the chill of the crisp salt-laden
winds.  As my hair blew forward whipping at my face, I had a feeling Matt was
there, standing not far from me.  It was as if his spirit was present in the
wind as it tossed the waters of the great Atlantic and traveled through the
trees, unseeingly flicking the leaves from their limbs.

My brief
encounters with Matt’s spirit had been amazing.  Just as amazing was the
precision it took for it all to come together.  Nicholas felt alienated from
his friends, Gavin was searching for his soul mate, and I was praying to God
for help with my life.  There was something very poetic about it all. 

On the beach far below,
a swirl of sand spiraled across the shoreline.  As I looked over the bluff,
down to the approximate place on the beach where Matt had fallen, my eyes
blurred with heavy emotion.  I squeezed them shut.  Who’s to say, that God
doesn’t grant miracles to help heal the wounded soul, by allowing us to hear a
voice from heaven?  And who’s to say faith can’t move mountains and miracles
can’t happen?  Surely, my experience was proof of that.

I opened my eyes
to a mass of rose-colored skies and clouds lined with gold.  Broad streams of
golden light beams shot downward through the water, as if they could touch the
bottom of the ocean.  There was something infinitely peaceful and spiritual
about its glorious majestic beauty. 

I took one last
look at the beach below.  “Goodbye Matt, you will forever be in my heart,” I
whispered, as I tossed five yellow roses over the bluff.  The water rose high
with vigor, pulling the roses out into the ocean as the gulls cried and circled
above. 

As I turned and
walked away from the bluffs, I thought back to once upon another time, when two
worlds had collided and Matt was for a short time back in my world.  But was he
really gone or does he live on through Gavin?  Only time will tell, I thought. 
As I walked away through a field of tall grasses headed with silvery plumes, it
was as if I could hear Matt’s voice whisper on the winds.
 It’s okay Aubrey,
go live your life.  Everything is now all right.