Finding My Way Home (9 page)

             
“Lunch sounds lovely,” I breathe and together we walk the short distance to our cars.  We decide on a small Italian restaurant, a very popular place downtown and before I get in my car I can hear Noah talking to Gigi on the phone telling her to meet us there. 

I drive in silence not in the mood for any music or any noise at all for that matter.  The quiet calms my never-ending anxiety and all the rambling thoughts going through my head. The restaurant is packed with the lunch crowd but we manage to find a small table on the patio.  We order our drinks and the
waitress leaves us two book-like menus.  I look through the picture-filled pages and not really paying attention. I can tell Noah is staring at me.  He always does the tight lipped staring contest when he is waiting for you to spill the beans. 

             
“So what did Gigi say?  Is she going to make it?”

             
“Not only is she going to make it,” he laughs, “but she’s going to kick your butt for trying to sneak out of town.”  The waitress returns with our drinks and we let her know that we’re waiting for our friend.  Once she’s gone Noah leans forward on the table and grabs my hand from the closed menu.  “Why are you running?  Why not finish what you’ve started?  We’re almost there, we’re close and you know it.  What are you afraid of?”  I blink away unshed tears and try to pull my hand back.  How can I explain to him without sounding like a nutcase? 

             
“I’m not running Noah.  I have to get back to my job.  Besides, I’ve thought about it and I don’t believe there’s anything in that house.  There is no letter like my grandma said.”  He shakes his head in disbelief but I’m thankful that he drops the subject.  He doesn’t need to know that I feel broken inside, that for the first time in a long time I looked at my life without the peachy colored glasses on and it doesn’t look too good anymore.  He doesn’t know that I feel tired and emotional and lonely.  That I have no idea what to do with my life when I go back to Boston and that I’m starting to question whether I should go back at all.  All of that is making my head spin and I rub my temples in circular motions in hope that I can make it all go away. 

             
I look up and see Gigi walking towards us, all smiles and carefree.  To an outsider she looks like a supermodel who just got back from some exotic photo shoot and got paid buku bucks to frolic in the sand for hours. She looks nothing like the stressed out mom who’s constantly working to put food on the table.  She’s simply amazing. 

             
“What did I miss,” she says and comes to give me a kiss on the cheek.  She smells like flowers and spring and I pull her in for a hug.  I know I’m going to miss her friendship; she’s been more of a friend in the last few days than most of my friends from Boston have been in these past three years. 

             
“You didn’t miss anything,” I say before Noah can run his mouth and say something I probably won’t like. “I’m starving so let’s order before we get kicked out.”  After a few minutes we all decide on the spinach ravioli and mixed salad and Gigi orders a glass of wine.  The way I feel right now I could probably use a whole bottle to help me ease my nerves.  I can hear the clock ticking in my head, counting the minutes until I’m home free.  I block out the noise around me and do a mental recap of the last few days’ events.  The food arrives and breaks the spell and when I look up both Noah and Gigi are watching me. 

             
“What?”

             
“You need to talk about this. If not with one of us at least with your boyfriend.” The very thought gets an eye roll since there’s no way I could ever tell Joe about the visions.  I can’t tell him that I spent hours looking for something that wasn’t there; something my dead grandmother was urging me to find.  You just don’t share that kind of stuff with anyone unless you’re ready to be committed to a mental institution.  The friends from Boston would never understand and would not be this open to the idea that maybe what I did see was indeed my nana.  I shake my head and take a sip of my soda.

             
“There’s nothing to talk about Gigi.  I’m just thinking of all the work that’s waiting for me back in Boston.  I’ve never been gone from work for more than a day or two.”  She looks back at Noah, but he’s playing around with his napkin.  When the food finally arrives I’m more than happy for the distraction and start eating with more enthusiasm than necessary.  Every now and then Gigi tells us about her son’s adventures and you can see the love she has for him just from the way her eyes light up whenever she mentions his name.  That’s the kind of love I hope to have one day.  I try picturing Joe as a father but the image is blank. His own relationship with his father is more of an association than a father-son kind. 

             
I look down at our plates and we are almost done with our meal.  Panic arises through my body and I have a bitter taste in my mouth.  This is why I didn’t want to prolong the inevitable.  Without thinking I grab my bag and scoot back my chair.  Noah’s eyes meet mine and I believe he knows what I’m about to do, yet he doesn’t stop me. 

             
“Where are you going?” Gigi asks.  I take a deep breath and tell her one big fat lie. 

             
“Restroom.  I’ll be right back.”  I look back to Noah and we stare at each other for a few seconds and just as I’m about to walk away he simply shakes his head.  That simple gesture wants me to believe that it’s a sign of his forgiveness and acceptance all bunched up together.  I make my way to the front of the restaurant and pay for our lunch then dash through the exit doors to my car.  I shoot like a bullet from the parking lot and as I drive by the restaurant’s patio, I can see Noah’s sad eyes and Gigi’s face full of confusion as she notices my car. I don’t wave or look back; I keep driving as fast as I can, running away from the past.

             
I drove around in circles, the heavy tears blurring my vision but I didn’t seem to notice them.  I now sat in a parked car under some naked tree, in front of some strange house, looking straight ahead like an unstable person.  Nothing was making sense.  I can’t believe I just ran from the restaurant without a word.  They didn’t deserve that and I know I should’ve at least called one of them to let them know I was ok; crazy but ok. Nothing I’ve done in the last twenty four hours has been normal and no matter how you put it I was nothing but a quitter.  For a while I played with the idea of going back but once again the coward in me won.  They were probably gone by now so there was no point in me going back.  None whatsoever. 

I put the car in drive, this time with a direction in mind. 
Unless I was going to spend the night in my car I had to find a hotel and I had to find it soon.  I was lucky to find a small hotel by the airport and from the looks of it, it was not one I would typically like to spend my night in. Feeling too drained to bother looking for anything else, I gave up and pulled into the parking lot.  I checked in and to my surprise the room was clean and welcoming.  The walls were a very warm yellow covered with beautiful artwork, not paintings but large photographs of flowers and raindrops.  I sat in the middle of the room looking around, taking in my surroundings.  There was one large queen size bed in the middle, two nightstands. A big screen television mounted on the wall and a small desk by the window.  The light fixtures were made out of some type of stained glass in different shades of red, bronze, and black. I moved to the window and for a second my hand froze in the air afraid of pulling open the curtains.  In the end I decided it was safer to keep them closed and moved away slowly.  I could tell this was going to be a very long night and there was nothing I could do about it.  Maybe I should’ve just stayed in the airport.  

The be
d was really soft and it smelled like fresh laundry yet it didn’t comfort me.  For the next few hours I just sat motionless staring at the walls, my heavy breathing the only sound in the room. After hours of tossing and turning, I finally gave up the hope of any sleep and turned on the television more out of habit than anything else.  I wasn’t interested in watching anything but welcomed the company it provided. My cell buzzed for the hundredth time; there were several missed calls on my cell, as well as voicemails and texts, some from Noah and some from Gigi.  So far nothing from Joe.  Was he always this indifferent and I just didn’t notice? Was I the same way towards him?

             
Looking back I realize just how different our relationship was from my grandparents.  I realize that I was only lying whenever I told him that it was ok if we didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day since we didn’t need a special day to celebrate our love.  Or when I said it was ok if I never got to pick the movie we were watching since whatever he picked was always good.  I lied when I told him that it was ok if he never got me flowers since there was no point in spending money on something that ends up in the trash a few days later.  The truth was, none of it was OK. 

             
I thought of all the times I waited for him with dinner, all dressed up and ready for a romantic evening at home.  He would always show up late, always blaming it on work and I, the understanding girlfriend, never complained.  I remembered how one of my co-workers once said that the secret behind her happy marriage was that she trained her husband from day one.  He knew what she wanted and what made her happy and he was more than happy to comply.  According to her, men are very simple creatures with very simple needs.  You need to feed them and be very accommodating in the bedroom.  Maybe that was the case with most men but Joe was not most men.  His needs were anything but simple.

             
The sun was coming up slowly, shooting slivers of light through the thin curtains.  Three more hours until my flight yet I’m anxious to get out of here.  I brush my teeth hastily and put away the few things I unpacked the night before.  After I check out, I drive the few minutes to the airport and drop off the rental car.  I really hope the coffee shop inside the airport is open because I can feel the lack of sleep finally catching up with me. 

             
There are not too many travelers and the quiet reminds me of The Langoliers.  I laugh at myself for even thinking of that movie and make my way to through the security check. It takes me a while to pull my boots off and pile all the crap on the conveyer and pray that I don’t have anything I shouldn’t in my bag.  In spite of the short lines, we are moving in slow motion, and patience is something that I’m lacking at the moment. I walk through (yay for not setting off the alarm), grab my belongings and then struggle to push my feet back into my boots. I stand up and start scanning the wide waiting area for a coffee shop. 

My face breaks into a huge smile when I spot the Starbucks sign. It is
probably the only one in the entire town but that doesn’t really matter right now. I order a small coffee and a croissant then sit at one of the tables letting my mind wonder off on its own. The other passengers are all couples with small children, or lovers saying goodbye to one another, or older couple probably on their way to visit their grandkids.  I am the only one alone and for the first time I feel lonely.  I never minded alone time before, I actually cherished it, even considered myself lucky whenever I would hear my friends complain of not having enough time for themselves.  So why did I suddenly have a change of heart? 

             
The flight number is being called and I drop the empty cup and wrapper into the trash then walk slowly to the short line to wait my turn.  The airplane is half empty making it easy for me to take the window seat.  The flight attendant is going over the safety checks but I no longer hear her voice, as I get distracted by what I see outside my window.  I rub my eyes vigorously to make sure I’m not hallucinating and open them again slowly.  The image is blurry yet I can make out the outline of my grandmother’s face.  I sob softly and push back the unwanted tears as the airplane starts to move, but I keep my eyes locked with the image.  I can feel my heart breaking in a million pieces like a puzzle that will never be finished. 

             
“Miss, are you alright?” I look up to the attendant and fake a smile to assure her that I’m ok and she walks away satisfied, as if she just solved the world’s hunger.  In a few hours I will be home and I pray that everything will feel normal once again.  I missed the monotony of things, the daily routine that kept my mind busy.  I even missed Joe and his quirky sense of humor, or the lack of.  In a few hours I will be able to put the craziness of the past few days behind me.

             
I close my eyes and turn the iPod as loud as it can go, and let the music block all the noise, praying I can keep it together for the next few hours. I still haven’t checked my messages and wonder if Gigi and Noah will ever forgive me for the way I left.  I know if I could take the time back, I would do things differently.  I would tell Gigi just how amazing she is and how much she’s touched my heart with her stories.  I would tell Noah that no matter how long it takes until we meet again, he still has a place in my heart, a place that was long forgotten until recently.

             
But that’s a moot point now isn’t it?! Someone taps my shoulder gently and my eyes fly open.  The flight attendant is pointing at her ears, and I pull out my earphones.

             
“We are about to land.  I need you to push the table up and fasten your seatbelt.  Thank you.”  She gives me her standard smile and it makes me wonder if they take a class on that alone.  Not that I blame her.  It must be annoying having to always smile and put up with cranky passengers. I do as I’m told and risk looking out the window.  The sky is too bright for my sensitive eyes making me squint.  Theirs is nothing out there but the few lone clouds and the land below plastered with houses the size of Lego pieces. The plane lands smoothly and before long we are all moving in a single file line towards the exit. There will be no one waiting for me when I get off the plane.  Joe was still at work when I left and as always I did not want to bother him. 

             
I pick up the pace as I walk to the parking lot looking for my car, suddenly filled with excitement knowing that in less than half an hour I will finally be home. 
If only I could find my car
. I keep pushing the remote and the alarm sound echoes through the open space.  Fifteen minutes later I’m sweating bullets and I’m about ready to give up when I notice to my left, just two cars down, my little car.  I shake my head in disbelieve and chuckle to myself. 
I’m something else, aren’t I
? While the car is warming up I take a look at all the missed called and texts.  Gigi wanted to know if I was ok, with the promise that next time I was in town she was going to whoop my butt for leaving the way I did.  There were four messages from Noah letting me know he went back to the house and something was terribly wrong.  I contemplated whether to call him or not and decided it was safe to wait until I was home.  I didn’t want to get into an argument with him before I had a chance to see Joe.  If I was going to make it work between Joe and I, I had to have a clear mind, not cloud myself with other problems.

             
The drive home was uneventful; I knew the streets like the back of my hand and could’ve made the drive with my eyes closed.  The closer I got, the more excited I became.  Most of the parking spots were taken and after looking around the block for a while, I finally found a tight spot.  While we did not have an assigned parking, I never had a hard time finding one in front of our building.  As I walked inside, I could feel a smile creeping slowly on my face.  I took the elevator to the third floor and shook my head to the beat of the music playing in the background.  It was good to be home.

             
That’s what I thought until I got to our apartment door.  Booming music was seeping through the walls making me wonder if maybe I got off on the wrong floor.  Joe was never the party type and even on the rare occasion when we had friends over, he never liked to have the music on too loud.  I unlocked the door cautiously ready to find some intruders taking advantage of our place.  Instead I was greeted by a house full of strangers and thanks to the open floor, I spotted Joe immediately sitting by the window sipping wine while a very curvaceous girl was leaning in whispering sweet nothings into his ear.  I stood there by the door, frozen in place, not knowing what I should do next.  No one bothered to notice me and I swallowed a scream that was threatening to escape my throat. 

             
The door closed behind me with a loud thump and Joe’s eyes met mine.  We looked at each other for a moment and like the professional that he is, he gave me one of his bright smiles and walked up to me, engulfing me in his arms.

             
“Babe, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

             
“And miss surprising you?” I answered my voice full of sarcasm. 

             
“Now don’t be like that.  I had a long week and we won a big case so we were just celebrating.”

             
I pushed myself from his embrace and moved away. “Whatever.  I’m too tired for this.”  He didn’t say anything, nor did he come after me.  So much for new beginnings.  You can’t change a relationship unless both parties are willing to do so.  I locked myself inside the guest bathroom and fell on the floor, my back against the door, and finally broke down.  I lay on the cold tile floor with my eyes closed wishing I was anywhere but here, wishing I was little again when life was simple.  I wished for things I could not have….

I don’t know how long I sat like that, all alone.  I pushed my tired body up and one by one shed the crumbled clothes to the floor. I stepped into the shower under the hot spray and washed myself gently at first, then more vigorously, scrubbing away all the bad thoughts and misfortune.  By the time I was done showering, the house was all quiet and I opened the bathroom door slowly, making sure I was alone. 
The hallway is dark and quiet and as I push my way into the living room I notice the mess left behind.  I don’t even recognize this place anymore; my internal chaos is now surrounding me.  I shake myself pushing away the pity party and start putting everything in its place, grabbing empty cans and cups, plates and napkins, moving the furniture around, then move to the kitchen to load the dishwasher and throw away the trash. 

             
When Joe finally shows up the house is back to normal more or less and I’m sitting on the sofa reading a book.  I look up and he starts to move towards me but stops as if something makes him change his mind.  Part of me wants him to come and sit next to me so we can talk about what happened but the other part is too angry to even look at him. 

             
“I’m sorry about tonight,” he says after a while.  He looks tired, like I’ve never seen him before and so many mixed feelings rush through me.  I swallow hard and try to find my voice.

             
“It’s ok. We can talk tomorrow.”

             
“Ok.  Are you coming to bed?”

             
“In a minute,” I answer too quickly.  I watch him walk away knowing too well that tomorrow we won’t talk, or the day after.  Tomorrow was Monday and that meant only one thing.  Life was going to go back to the same monotonous routine, long working hours and we’ll only get snippets of free time to spend together.  Just as well, I thought.  I grabbed my cell phone and looked back at the old messages.  Gigi was the first I was going to text.