The pearls of yesterday, p.19
The Pearls of Yesterday, page 19
“Oh, well, where did that come from?” His eyes cross like he’s trying to look at his nose. He takes a long sip before setting the drink down to reveal an even bigger white mustache.
My eyes shut as I guffaw. “It’s bigger now.” I cover my mouth from laughing too much.
As I come back from the memories, I stare at two mugs of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and whipped cream on the table. My hands automatically wrap around one of them. The guilt of rejecting Papi’s last sip of hot chocolate surfaces, but I pretend he’s got his hands around the other mug.
There’s a sense of wholeness I can’t explain. I’m about to take my first sip. I pick up my mug and watch the marshmallows twirl on the chocolaty surface. As the warm, rich drink crosses my lips, my soul fills with comfort and sweet moments. The kind that can be enjoyed in full silence. I swallow a tiny marshmallow.
The hot chocolate is creamier than I last remember. And darker. It tastes sweeter than it ever has. I sip again. Then I sip for Papi from his mug.
Serenity envelopes me. Images of Papi don’t flash in my mind, and neither does the pain of missing him or the weight of guilt for what happened.
I’ll cherish this moment as the biggest turning point in my history book. Little by little, I will bring Papi back into our home.
Another minute passes and when I finish both drinks, I set everything back in its place with a new sense of happiness.
This is how Papi would have wanted me to live—enjoying every moment of life without the pain of not having had that one last sip with him along with all the moments that never came after that. He’d want me to be spontaneous and make mistakes. He’d want me to have life experiences.
Being in the cabin by myself is comforting more than I thought it’d be without Papi. On my way back into the living room, I touch the chair, table, lamp. There’s a sense of peace and tranquility in the air.
Papi’s favorite pen rests on the bookshelf. I roll over and grab it.
He wrote in his journals with its ink. I want to write with it.
I spot a lone notebook under some papers in the corner of the bookshelf and grab it. This whole time, closure is what I needed most, and it was pages away from me. I begin to write.
Dearest Papi,
You were the greatest father. I was the daughter who got caught up in a fake town and ignored the most down-to-earth man. You gave me everything. I gave you hurt. I took your love for granted. Now you’re gone. A day doesn’t go by wishing you were here. I never got to say my goodbye to you and, therefore, never started healing.
The eulogy that never was spoken finally finds its perfect time.
You gave away the greatest gift every day, sharing it again and again: sweet, precious time with those you loved. Every chance you had to love your daughters, you did it. You helped me navigate a world that forever put obstacles in my way, always searching for snares that would trip me up, even when they wouldn’t have been snares in your world. But I took you for granted, and the regret has eaten me alive.
Life is full of mistakes. I can own them because I understand them. Most people don’t intentionally try to hurt the other person; we just need to work on empathy. We’re complex, and that’s why one mistake can’t be the weakness that breaks us. It should build our character. Life is about exploring and living, not doing the routine habits we think are right. That’s wrong.
I want to kiss your forehead and tell you I love you. I always have, even though I rarely said it to you those last few years. My saving grace is you’re at peace. Every day, I will live in your strength. In your honor.
You’d never want me to keep silent. You would want me to live the happiest life moving forward. You’d want me to fight on, no matter how that may scare me and those around me. I don’t need anyone’s authority or approval to make change happen.
Thank you for being the greatest Papi a child could have.
Love,
Your Abby
I rest the pen next to the journal. Anytime I miss him, I’ll fill more of the pages.
I need to live for me, not be haunted by something I can’t change. I need to make new memories, not relive the old ones simply because I miss Papi. He’d want me to enjoy life, not cry because he’s not here.
My eyes shut and I smile at our laughter ringing in my ears. At all the moments we had together—not the moments we’ll miss. “I love you, Papi,” I whisper as if he’s nearby. “I’ll forever have hot chocolate in your honor.”
A grunt sounds from the outside.
I jolt in my seat and peek out the window.
A go-kart swerves in front of the cabin. My wheels track against the wooden floor until I’m outside.
“Hey!” My tone is playful. A feeling of lightness lifts me up.
Theo stands up and straightens out his work polo. He must have changed clothes at the aquatic center.
“Wanna go see nature?”
I nod and park next to the vehicle.
His arm wraps around me and I basically strangle his neck. As he lifts me, my hair falls loose until my butt hits the white leather seat. I can sit up with proper back support as long as the surface is not too soft.
Theo jogs to the opposite side and jumps in, tilting the cart with his weight.
Just like we’ve done this before, he presses the pedal and we’re off.
We both take the steering wheel in the same way as when we were kids. Then we scream at our terrible driving. Although, Theo has gotten a lot better.
One time when I was eight and Theo was nine, I convinced him I was a pro driver who knew how to speed. Let’s just say that wheelchair racing and go-kart racing with the Giordanis proved to be very different sports.
Throughout the fifteen-minute trip, Theo stops and picks a flower here and there. When Papi took us out in nature, Theo would gather a bouquet for me.
I have no idea where we’re going, but it becomes to look familiar as the larger trees and colorful flowers pepper our path.
We soon arrive under an oak tree—our childhood spot. The colorful flowers and butterflies dancing in the field capture my attention. The clouds are painted purple and pink across the sky. A perfect sunset.
The peaceful, aromatic vibe of the woods keep my worries at bay. Being able to turn my brain off and be in the moment of tranquility is refreshing.
The houses at the bottom of the hills and the surrounding valley look beautiful as the lights start to flicker on. The breeze ruffles the leaves on the trees above us and the blossoms float through the air with ease. They land in my semi-dry hair and lap.
This was our favorite spot years ago. It’s open and free.
Theo hands me the flowers and I press them to my chest. “Thank you.” The bouquet of white, yellow, and pink overpower my senses: sweet daisies, wild geranium, and clover. “Perfect as always.”
He’s so quiet, I’m spooked. All he does is watch me with wide eyes like I’m a prized brownie—his favorite dessert.
The wind whisks between us. My gaze sweeps down the lush green hills. “Remember the butterflies you’d catch in the field and then we’d let them go?” I ask.
Theo leans toward me. The beams of sunlight filter through the gaps in the overarching branches behind him. His grin is warm and appealing.
“Yeah, I do. I remember everything about us.”
The casual attitude is suddenly replaced by a more assertive manner. “When can we have a round two with our lips?”
His hand glides down my shoulder.
I’ve become a deer in headlights, listening to my best friend flirt with me. The thought is stranger than I’d expected.
I want him close. To touch me. Kiss me. Tell me I’m beautiful.
That’s what I want from him—I have to tell myself that, because Hudson’s face keeps popping up in my mind. It’s probably his ancestors haunting me for not apologizing to him.
My stomach drops as I play with the petals in the bouquet.
“Um,” I say and sigh. Why am I not excited about kissing Theo? We shared our first kiss—my first romantic kiss—but the aftermath is not as glowing. I want to be giddy and start planning our next date.
In a quick shift of topic, he asks, “Want food? I got tuna sandwiches.”
I nod and once again his hands are on my body. His breath on my neck tickles. The way he holds my body makes me feel attractive, sexy. Or maybe it’s because I’m in his shirt, totally braless. Yes, I must find every way to give us a romantic chance.
Within seconds, we settle down at the top of the hill under the large tree. I rest my back against the trunk.
Uncut strands of grass between my toes occupy me. I love the feeling of being shoeless.
“Shoeless girl! Come and put your shoes on!” Papi would say and chase after me.
Handing me a sandwich, Theo sighs deeply. “Damn, that says chicken, not tuna. I wish I got the fries and fish instead.”
The paper wrap slips off easily and almost floats away into the wind.
Fries in a milkshake.
Hudson’s piercing stare and crooked smile flashes in front of me like an unexpected ink stain on a page.
My stomach drops further as I take the first bite. And the second one.
Theo chews a large bite like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
This is wrong. No matter how perfect life looks like with Theo, it’s wrong. My heart knows I can’t plan out love. Because when my eyes travel up to Theo’s smile, I see him as a best friend.
I’m using Theo as a shield to not face Hudson, refusing to understand my real feelings.
The ones I have for Hudson.
“What’s wrong?” Theo asks. He’s downed the sandwich in record time. “Bread too soggy?”
Sighing, I shake my head and set my food back into the wrapper. I’m doing what I always do—run to Theo. He’s my past, and maybe there’s a chance we could be a couple. But I want us to be a couple because we want to be, not because a traumatic event has us uniting for comfort.
I work my pained eyes to his. “I can’t forget about Hudson.” There’s a pause as I find the words to reject Theo again. “My feelings are too strong for him.” The freedom of the unknown releases a tension in my chest.
Theo swallows hard and runs a hand through his long locks. “Really? After everything?”
“I love you, Theo,” I drawl. “But I’m not in love with you.” My emotions were just running high from Hudson and spilling over into Theo. I feel shame at this realization, at the pain I’m causing my best friend. Again, I’m choosing Hudson over Theo. Is it a mistake? Possibly, but I have to follow my heart.
“We grew up together. We were each other’s comfort these last several months.” This next part is too hard to say. “But I see us as friends, being there for each other, without the kissing part. I don’t regret my first kiss with you. It was perfect. The way it was supposed to be. Almost like a release that freed me. But I want to move forward to new experiences. Ones that scare me.” And Hudson scares me a lot.
It’s the best way I can explain it. “I wouldn’t want to give our first kiss to anyone else, but part of growing up is moving onward. You haven’t dated anyone all year.” I wipe the side of my mouth and gaze at him. “We need to go outside of our comfort zone, otherwise we’re not really living, are we?”
Theo searches my face. “Maybe.” There’s a panicked glare in his eyes. A long pause passes while he rubs his hands down his face. “Maybe,” he says softer.
My best friend caught me and kept me from crashing to my own demise. I choose to cherish us instead of regretting what happened. Being attracted to him in a time of need is part of being sixteen and curious about guys.
Theo runs his hand through his hair and grips his neck. “Yeah.” He nods, his smile guilty looking. “Maybe always needing to be there for you was my problem. I liked it when you needed me. It made me feel important.” He zones in on me with a serious stare. “I’ve known you since forever, Abbs. I hate the thought of someone hurting you, but you’re strong and you have your own voice. I just want to protect you, and maybe that’s wrong.”
We share a moment and a sigh. Then I reply, “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re being the best friend you can to me because you love me.”
Theo cleans his hands of any crumbs.
“What are you feeling?” I ask.
He leans back and stares at the grass. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’d be like to kiss my best friend. But forcing something can—” He clears his throat. “—ruin a friendship.” Smoothing the grass, he continues, “If I’m being honest, it was the best kiss and I’m happy we shared it. But maybe we have too much history and childhood memories to cross that line. When I think of you, I think about being there for you. When I wonder if I want to kiss you again, I guess, it does feel . . . weird.”
“Then it’s settled, friends forever, lovers never,” I say.
He grins and I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“We’ll be friends no matter what,” he replies.
He throws me a high-five; I find his pinky with mine. He lifts my hand, and we slide our palms together. Our index fingers hook, we lace our fingers into a butterfly, and then our palms, then the backs of our hands clap against each other. I pull an air trigger, and Theo snaps his fingers.
We still remember our secret handshake.
“Don’t be afraid to be honest with me, even if the truth might be painful,” I whisper. “Promise me you’ll put yourself first and let me be there for you as your best friend.”
“I promise,” he says with a chuckle, then squints into the distance. “If you truly like Hudson.” He pauses. “I’ll . . . try to mend our differences with him.” Another beat passes. “But you have to tell me why him.”
I push my arms behind me for better support. The calmness of the flower field fills me with life—the possibility of a full life.
What are your passions? I ask myself. Who can pull you out of your comfort zone?
“He’s a risk. He’s spontaneous. He’s the unknown. Which is the total opposite of me. He scares me, yet I want to be vulnerable with him. He fires me up and at the same time makes me emotional. He makes me live.”
Theo leans his back against the tree trunk.
“It’s not that I don’t want you as my escort,” I’m quick to explain. “I want to start making new memories and not be controlled by the old ones.”
“I’ll come cheer you on at the ball.”
“Thanks,” I reply.
This is good. Now I have to get Hudson on the same page. Whether or not that includes a first kiss with him.
Twenty-Seven
“I can’t wait to meet everyone at the senior center this Sunday, too,” I say into my phone, gazing at the carnation garden through my bedroom window. “It can be a scarf-knitting party.”
“This will be a nice surprise for Hudson,” Darby, the Verdan senior center assistant director, replies. “He has been low on supplies lately and our next budget meeting isn’t until next month.”
“I have more than enough in my savings to cover everything for this month.”
Yesterday was too much. There’s more to our connection, and I won’t give him up. I’ve been thinking all day and night of the perfect plan to win Hudson back. This feels like the perfect one.
Darby shares her appreciation, and we hang up.
I hope he can forgive me.
Cutting each other off seems silly—something we’d do four years ago. We’re older now, so facing the pain we caused each other is the mature thing to do. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. I have to believe this will work.
Either way, I won’t sit and wait for things to fix themselves.
Giving my window one last glance, I turn my joystick on and wheel out of my room.
Maneuvering through the mansion, into the garden, and through the Giordani’s backyard, I’m ready to fight for us.
I have no clue how he’s taking the me-kissing-Theo situation. Not to mention how I let Theo yell at him.
“Hudson!” I holler. This is totally a Romeo and Juliet scene—roles reversed, though.
It’s a new day, so I hope the emotions have died down a bit from the last twenty-four hours.
“Hud!” I yell louder. I’m seconds away from texting him, but that ruins being spontaneous.
I’ll beg him to be my escort. When I dance at the ball, I want Hudson to hold my hand and spin me. I want to see him and remember how beautiful we are together. I want us back.
Footsteps sound behind me.
“No one’s home.” The voice thunders. So angry.
Hudson walks up, backpack in hand. It’s packed to the top like he’s going on a hike. A piece of yarn pops from a small, zipped opening.
He stomps up the first two steps.
I feel an irrational stab of disappointment and rejection.
“I’m sorry I kissed Theo. Sorry that he was cruel.” I pause, wait for him to turn around. He doesn’t. “But I want you. I was upset hearing you had future plans with your ex. Hated to believe I was a favor and that you played me. My heart hurt. Hudson . . .” There’s a strange knot in my stomach like I’ve swallowed an octopus whole and it’s sucking on my insides.
He takes one step at a time up the stairs. “I don’t do fucking favors, Abby.”
Joey told me to show I care about someone more than about myself. Instead of apologizing, I should show him that I want to be there for him like he’s been there for me.
“I’m helping the senior center plan an event for your knitting group. I want to support your dreams and passions. Little by little, you can build onto it and then turn your hobby into a career.”
He spins around to face me. The sun casts shadows on him as if for a dramatic effect.
Up there, he’s so tall and mighty.
“What are your hobbies? What are your dreams?” he asks in a heated tone. “Planning isn’t a dream or a hobby.”
There is truth to that, as much as I don’t want to admit to it. It may look as though planning well means I have everything figured out, but the truth is the opposite. I plan because I have nothing figured out.
