On Going Home - Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE
She hated the coffee here.  It was always a disappointment.  The rich dark smell of it assailed you the moment the door opened, but the taste never fulfilled the smell’s promise.  She took the lid off and lifted the paper cup to her lips. The strong chickory flavour hit the back of her palate and brought on a strong urge to smoke a cigarette. A sensation that never seemed to disappear, despite the fact that she hadn’t had one in over 40 years.
But when you actually took a sip there was nothing.  It was like an rare, old bottle of expensive wine, gone bad.  All cowboy, no hat. Still it was warm, and the cream gave it a comforting taste.  Coupled with steamy heat of the coffee shop; the coffee, against all logic, was almost sleep inducing.  And she smiled to herself, recognizing how easily she had been wooed to return, by clever marketing and abundant use of fat.
They met here because there was always space for the five of them, but also because the senior’s price for a coffee, two for $1.45 was the cheapest in town. Not that any of them, except her, was on much of a budget.  But they were seniors and the expectation to curtail spending and maximize the legacy left to one’s children, was huge.  One also needed to save during the warm months, so that a trip to a warmer location was possible in winter’s darkest days.
The cold seats and the sticky table-top did not enhance the experience, but they were left alone and could sit for hours, nursing a singe cup.  And they weren’t the only regulars, others came every day and though you never met them, they became familiar and you wondered what they were up to, when they weren’t there.  It was a family of sorts, but a loose one, spread across several continents; the kind that only sees each other once every 10 years.  So you might recognize them when you met them at the airport, but you’d never be able to describe their faces to someone else.
         As she waited for the others to arrive, she wondered at the sense of trying to get their support, and wondered if she should bring up the trip at all.  After all, for the most part, they were all set in their ways, their settled suburban lives.  The adventurous nature any of them might have once harboured, had long since fled.  Still, they were her family, since she lacked a real one, and having their support might give her the courage to go forward.  And it really wasn’t a true adventure; she wasn’t going to Machu Pichu or the Gobi Desert for crying out loud.  She was taking a bus to Saskatoon.  But they might say she was crazy.  They might try and dissuade her.  And she wasn’t sure she could handle that.
         The table, and its attached chairs jerked, jostled by a woman in a purple rain suit.  “Sorry” she chirped, as she negotiated her way to an adjoining table.  Sally raised her head to acknowledge her apology, and spied Beth pushing open the first of the two double doors at the entry.  As Beth moved toward the lineup to get her usual hot chocolate with extra cream, Sally marveled at Beth’s ability to stay so thin.  Her own body had slumped.  There was no other word for it.  After years of owning a svelte, petite body, whose shape was sharp and well defined, her 65 year old body had gained an extra, extra layer of fat, and suffered an avalanche of sorts.  It had its benefits though, this new body; she was no longer cold all the time.
         Beth sat across from her and tucked her purse beneath her feet.  “Sorry I wasn’t here before now, Henry wanted me to show him how to work the washing machine again.  I don’t know why he is so interested in laundry all of a sudden.  I think he must bored. He’s always been more interested in the process than in the actual product.  All part of being an engineer I suppose.  And then Brigette called to talk about the children and what should she make for Thanksgiving.  So, of course, when I finally got to leave, I discovered there was no gas in the car.  And you know how much I hate buying gas.  I do it so infrequently, it always feels like the first time and I have to learn how to do it all over again.  Still here I am” 
         Beth always spoke in breathless paragraphs; a stream of consciousness eruption. Sally wondered at her ability to do so without taking a breath.  She must have great lung capacity, she thought to herself. You always knew exactly what Beth’s state of mind was.  It was sort of comforting in a way.  Knowing everything without having to ask. 
         “How are you?”
         “I’m fine. Oh, here are Susan and Jill.  Do you know if Margaret is coming too?”
         “I don’t know.  I didn’t’ talk to her this week.  Henry and I went to Bethany’s took look after the children, while she was away on business.”
         Beth and Henry were good parents.  The kind of parents parenting magazines wrote about.  The kind that traveled four hours to look after three children under 5, so that their working parents could keep them all in the style they had grown accustom to.  The kind that took the whole family to Florida for Christmas.  Who would buy each of their grandchildren laptops when they started university.  The kind who seemed honestly impressed with how well each of the children and grandchildren had turned out and told everyone who would listen. The kind of parent that Sally was not.
         Susan and Jill slid into their seats, each clutching a too hot cup of coffee.  Jill dropped her chocolate glazed donut onto the table.  It was in a small, shiny brown bag, but Sally knew it was chocolate dipped.  Jill always had chocolate dipped.  Every week.  Just like she always did her laundry on Monday, her shopping on Tuesday, and played bridge on Thursday.
         “Bert and I have booked our trip.”, blurted Susan.  “We’re going to Sarasota for two whole months, starting January 15th.  We got a condo two blocks from the beach.  The kids are going to come for March break.  I’m not sure where we are all going to sleep, but it will just be fun to be all together.  I am so excited.  I love planning a trip.  The anticipation leading up to it is almost as good as the trip itself.  And the though of spending two whole months in warmth instead of icy winter here, is wonderful.”
         Sally knew this was her cue to tell everyone about her planned bus trip to the group, but she wanted to wait until Margaret arrived.  Margaret was the most likely of them all to support her, and she wanted ensure, her plan was presented in an environment with the most likely degree of success.  Her confidence in Margaret’s support had been strong.  But up until now she had kept everything to herself, and in isolation, the trip had held only positive possibilities.  But now that she was on the cusp of letting it out, doubt began to creep in and her confidence was wobbly at best.  As her best friend, Margaret’s support would mean the most.  And knowing Margaret was at least behind her decision would carry her though.  She would wait.
         Jill carefully folded the square brown bag into quarters and placed it under her coffee, like a coaster.  Then she picked up the gossamer napkin and carefully wiped her lips, removing all traces of the incriminating chocolate glaze.  Not that Sally could every remember glaze, or anything else for that matter, marring Jill’s otherwise perfectly made up face.  She folded the napkin as well, and placed it next to her cup. 
         “I have booked a bus trip through England for the spring. We’re going to Stonehenge, Salisbury, Plymouth, Wells, Bath, Cardiff, the Lake District, Glasgow, Glencoe, the Scottish Highlands, Balmoral, St. Andrews, Edinburgh, York, Stratford-upon Avon, Liverpool and Oxford.  I’ve memorized the itinerary.  I like to be able to picture it all in my mind before I go.  That way if I come across an event I’m interested in before I go, I’ll know if I can fit it into my trip.  We have two guides on our bus, for just twenty of us, and we’re staying in four-star hotels.  I would never go if it was anything less than three stars.  My sister says this is our last trip together, so we decided it had better be a big one.  She and Arnold are moving to Nanaimo and giving up traveling.”
         Sally cringed.  Yet another cue to drop the news of her impending trip of discovery, but Margaret still wasn’t here.  She wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait.  Beth always left early to go home and make Henry’s lunch.  And Sally really wanted a quorum of support.  She’d wait ten more minutes and then she would have to make her move.
         At the eight-minute mark, Margaret appeared beside the table. She threw her bag onto the remaining seat, tossed a wave in their direction, and joined the line up.
         Sally’s heart jumped and her mounted dried.  This was it.  The time was now.  How to begin?  Tell them why she was going or tell them how and when?  She could feel a flush creeping up her neck.  Breathe, she told herself.  Think of dance class; in through the nose, out through the mouth.  Out with the bad, in with the good.  Why was it that the one thing that kept you alive, was the one thing you stopped doing when you were scared?  She’d have to look that up next time she went to the library.
         Margaret threw her bag on the floor and plopped into her seat. 
         “Hey you guys.  So, what did I miss?”
         As the others regaled her with their itineraries, Sally waited for the appropriate time to start.  And she breathed.  She came to when she realized the others had fallen silent.  She looked up, they were all staring at her.  Now.  Talk now.  And so she did.
         “I’m going on a trip too.  I’m going to Saskatoon to find my family.  To go home.”
         They continued to stare.  No one spoke.  And then, because she knew the most, Margaret took a deep breath in and asked, “Why?”
         “Because it’s time.  I need to know.  Because it’s why I am who I am.  Because I think going home will bring me full circle.  Because I want to find out.”
         “But you already know who you are.  And you have a family.  I know Bill is gone, but you have a child and grandchildren.  You have us.  What will going back there bring you except pain and bad memories.  It’s not like that home was a happy place.”
         The other two stared in confusion.  They had thought they knew Sally.  Knew enough about her to feel they “knew” her.  What more could there be that would change the way they felt about her.  She had a nice little house, an elegant garden.  She’d had a hardworking, loving husband.  She’d owned the dance studio in town.  Been a member of the country club.  That had seemed like more than enough to Susan and Jill.  What had they missed?
         “I need to know what happened after.  Where my father is.  I would like to see if I can find June, or someone who knows where she is anyways.  I have the time.  I’m still able enough to get around.  I want to go now, while I’m still able.”
         Breaking the silence, Jill asked, “Are you going by yourself?’.  “It seems like the sort of a trip where you might like to have someone with you.  In case of bad news.”
         “Oh, I don’t know what sort of bad news there could be, I don’t expect to find anyone alive.  My father is long gone I’m sure.  He was never very hale and hearty.  And my grandmother would be 105 if she were still around.  And that’s not likely.  I just want to visit their graves.  And see if I can find anyone who knows what happened to them after we left.”
         “And then what?”, said Margaret.  “True happiness?”
         It was not unlike Margaret to be so cutting, but still it stung.  She had hoped that Margaret would curb her tongue once she understood how important the trip was to her.  But she’d also known that gaining their support would take some work.  They all felt protective of her.
         “No, not true happiness Margaret.  Just maybe one page in my life I can turn.  I’ve been thinking about going for a long time.  And I have planned it all out.  I’m leaving in two weeks;  On a Wednesday morning.  I’m going by bus from Toronto.  I’ve bought my ticket.”
         “By bus!”, cried Jill. “Oh, I could never travel by bus.  Think of the horrible people who take the bus.  You never know who might be sitting beside you.  Remember that story of the man who cut off his seat-mates head on that bus out west.  It was in the paper last year.  Why are you taking the bus?”
         “Because I want it to take time.  I want it to seem like a voyage.  Like I’m traveling back in time. A bus ride will give me time.  I don’t want to get on a plane and boom, two hours later, be there.  I’m calling it my voyage of discovery.”
         “And you’re going alone?”
         “Yes, unless….unless one of you wants to come with me?”
         They continued to stare at her.  She knew Beth would never come.  She had Henry and he needed her to be home.  He always had.  And Susan and Bert never traveled separately.  So that left Jill and Margaret.
         As the silence continued, Sally weighed how long she should wait before she stood up and left.  She could take a hint and there was no reason for her to be embarrassed by the fact that she didn’t have a friend who was willing to go with her.  That she was alone.  She’d just stand up and go home.  It would be OK.  She’d come back next week and act as if they’d never turned her down.  But she felt sad and she really wanted their support.  So she continued to sit and meet their gaze.
         “Well, I’m sorry Sally, but I really could not travel by bus.  You know I just don’t travel that way.  Even if I knew it was going to be you sitting beside me.  Who might be sitting behind me, or across the aisle?  I would be too nervous.  I wish I could help you, but….”
         “It’s OK Jill, I know it’s a lot to ask.”
         Margaret spoke, “I don’t think you should go.  I don’t like the idea of you going alone and I don’t like the idea of you digging up stuff I know will only make you sad.  You’ve had a wonderful like full of exciting fulfilling things.  Like love, marriage, being part of a big loving family.  Owning your own business.  Being successful.  You have friends.  And I mean more than just us.  For Christ sake, you’ve danced in the Folies Berger.”
         Oh, great, thought Sally.  Here we go.  I get to unravel my whole live in the middle of a coffee shop.  Thank you Margaret.
         Beth jumped.  Her hand flew to her purse.  She dug inside the black hole and pulled out a diamante encrusted cell phone which was playing strains of ‘Que Sera, Sera’. 
         “Hello?  Oh, Henry, yes I’ll be home to make your lunch.  What?  Well, no I didn’t realize it was ten to.  I’ll be home in a few minutes.  Sally had just started telling us the most incredible story.  What?  No, I’ll tell you when I get home.”
         “Sorry, I’ve go to go.  Henry’s getting anxious.  And you know what that’s like.  Don’t say anything else Sally I want to hear your story with everyone else.  Keep it for next week.  Can you?  Please?  Bye everyone.” And with a flash of pink she was gone.
         The remaining four busied themselves tidying up their leftover cups and bags and napkins.  Pulling purses out of their secure locations they all stood up together and looked towards the door.
         “I’ll see you guys next week.  And thanks for your concern about my trip, but I’ll be fine on my own.  I always have been. I’ve been planning it for a long time.  I want to go and I want to be able to tell Amy the whole family history”
         She stood, and with her head held by an imaginary string from above, and her shoulders back, Sally moved away from the table and out the door, gliding as if on skates.