I didn’t have the energy to decipher the intention behind the statement. Now that she figured out who I was, we’d begin the dance. The alarms would sound, and there’d be a town meeting to discuss the reasoning behind my presence. I’d be shocked if they didn’t request that I attend so they could hold a formal hearing.
“Ellie’s boy.”
I caved and turned around. It hadn’t been her razor-sharp memory that gave me away. Holding my dad’s military uniform, she had spotted the name on the chest. I always imagined someday inking him, getting a traditional eagle on his chest. I knew she held nothing more than old clothes from the back of the closet, but seeing her holding Pops’s uniform, a bout of anger caught in my chest.
Anger at myself for not realizing Mum had moved beyond grief.
“How’s your mother doing?”
Well-meaning and maybe even altruistic, the question highlighted another problem that ran rampant in small towns. As quickly as she identified me, Gladys moved up the bloodline. I wasn’t Charlie, or even Charles. I wasjustEllie’s boy. The burden of generations past came tumbling down, burying any sense of self. Worse than that, I became two-dimensional as she crammed my life story into one of her captain’s trunks.
“She’s doing well.”
“I thought she’d kick the doctor when he said she’d have to be off her feet.”
I had almost forgotten Gladys had been the one to take Mum to the hospital. Did Mum ask, or did Gladys offer? I pushed the cynicism out of my head. Regardless of the intention, she had done Mum a favor.
“Thanks for taking her to Bangor.”
“My pleasure, dear.” Gladys set the uniform aside and continued digging. “If you need anything, let me know. Hopefully, we’ll see her at the next guild meeting.”
“Guild?”
“Quilting Guild.” She said the words as if they should have been obvious. “She’s working on a lovely quilt made of your father’s work shirts.” It had been so long since I had been homethat I didn’t even know my mother’s hobbies. It seemed we both wielded needles to hold onto our memories. The guilt came washing in. If I had called occasionally, perhaps she would have mentioned it.
“If you have anything else, feel free to drop it by.”
She flashed a quick smile before diving back into the contents of the box. I gave a slight nod and exited the store. I made a beeline for my car. Climbing into the driver's seat, I tossed my head back, trying to lock down the guilt before it took hold.
I had left for a reason. Back then, it had been crystal clear, an easy break where I never thought about what I left behind. I expected Firefly to dredge up old memories and confirm all my reasons for leaving. Except now, it wasn’t as cut and dry. It was only my relationship toElliethat gave me any semblance of belonging. Otherwise, I remained an outsider.
Turning the key, I gripped the wheel until my knuckles turned white. It was time to head back to Mum’s house. Barely noon, and I already needed a beer.
The chill returned when the sun set, leaving me pulling my jacket tight. Even as spring brought green to the trees and flowers along walkways, winter reminded Mainers it’d return in a few months. The soft breeze from the mountains didn’t deter the hearty folks of Firefly. At the end of the green, I spotted the enormous screen with a black-and-white movie playing. Decades later, they still partook in the ritual.
I meandered along the path, impressed with how much downtown had changed. As a kid, it had been all but abandoned, and I thought the town would fade into obscurity. They wouldn’t bend, not to weather and definitely not to the economy. Withshops surrounding the green, it appeared as if they weren’t simply surviving, but thriving. With every new discovery, I wondered if it had happened sooner, if it would have changed my perspective?
Thrusting my hands into my pockets, I strolled past the gazebo, park benches, and flower beds. Even the black lamps lining the path had that small-town charm everybody spoke of. They saw quaint. I saw suffocation.
And yet, I wandered toward the families partaking in movie night. The meandering matched my thoughts, aimless and all over the place. The symbolism of being booted from one home and returning to a place I once lived wasn’t lost on me. I tucked the irony away for later.
I reached the end of the path, where it turned into greenery. Families spread out on blankets, the parents watching the movie while children ran about catching fireflies. There were enough people, I’d guess the majority of Firefly attended.
Walking along the grass, I found an oak tree to lean against. From here, I could barely make out the movie’s soundtrack. I could have been at home reading or sitting in the backyard having a beer. When Mum called it an early night, I snuck out of the house like old times. This time, I didn’t have to roll her car out of the driveway before speeding away.
I chuckled at the thought. “I was such an idiot.”
If I went through all the stupid things I did in my youth, I’d spend all night traversing memory lane. Heck, as an adult, I wasn’t much better. I had built a life that awarded me the freedom to follow every whim that crossed my mind. I’m not sure that saying, “At least I haven’t wound up in jail,” should be the litmus test for success.
A kid squealed, running toward his parents. His father snatched him under the arms, swinging him about in the air. He set his son on the blanket, and Mom quickly handed him somesnacks. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I watched a home video of me as a kid. Dad would put his arm around my shoulders while I chomped away at homemade chocolate chip cookies.
I froze, pulled from the memory as I spotted somebody at my side. From the corner of my eye, I couldn’t make out their faces in the shadows. My fist tightened from habit, expecting them to invade my personal space. I’m not sure if my stranger knew the unspoken rule: one person per tree.
They shifted, and a ray of light from a lamppost caught the bottom of their jaw. I’d recognize that jaw, though it looked different when not distorted in horror. Just the thought of our exchange sent a chill through my groin. Though, Moxie was better spilled than drank. Crashing into him had been the universe doing him a public service.
He had his hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the movie screen. I tried to imagine what had brought him to Firefly, then I remembered his friend and something about a curse. Lacie hadn’t just embraced the town; she dove in headfirst. I shivered at the thought of her downing the nasty slushie in a hurry.
I would have been content to sit on the outskirts of the event, hidden from view. If he had been a resident, I might have kept my mouth shut. Knowing he wasn’t one ofthem, I broke the silence.
