Ann Bruce | Homecoming, Part 1

Homecoming, Part 1

Amanda wandered aimlessly through the house. Touching everything, as if trying to tangibly convince herself that everything was real. It was understandable since everything for the past week had a surreal quality about it. She still hadn't fully grasped the fact that she was once again alone. She was swept back to the time when she was fifteen and she had lost Theo. But he came back that time. This time all the searching in the world wasn't going to bring her grandfather back.

Amanda's random wandering brought her to the kitchen. Her gaze immediately settled on the fruit basket in the centre of the wooden table. She noticed the orange and remembered comparing her metaphor. She remembered thinking the orange being the world and the Sunkist label being the island. A pale parody of a smile curved her lips.

Amanda's pleasant recollections were interrupted by a hesitant knock on the kitchen door. It was Momo.

After a drawn out silence, she queried, "May I come in?"

Amanda felt embarrassed heat creep up her neck. She had been intently studying the girl who had once been her best friend. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Offhandedly, she took note that Momo had grown up to be an extremely beautiful woman.

Amanda shook her head as if to clear it of any lingering cobwebs. She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Come in." Amanda moved away from the doorway to take the proffered casserole dish from Momo's waiting hands.

"I just wanted to see how you were," Momo explained.

"Numb, I think. I'm not sure yet, Mo-" Amanda broke off. It seemed ridiculous to be calling a grown woman by her childhood nickname, especially one she had not seen in eleven years. There was a moment of awkward silence between them. Then, as if understanding her dilemma, the black woman smiled. "I'm still Momo. Some things don't change."

Amanda felt there was a hidden meaning behind Momo's words, but her mind was much too cluttered to sort it all out at the moment.

"It's just been so long," she began, "that I feel like a stranger here."

"You were gone for a long time," Momo said quietly. Something in her tone made Amanda flick her gaze back to her.

"Your father was right, you know," Amanda told her. "He said that once I left, I wouldn't come back." She paused. "How is Harvey?"

Momo stiffened slightly and she said thinly, "Dad died three years ago."

Amanda was contrite. "I'm sorry. I had no idea, though that's not much of an excuse."

"How could you have known?" Momo said rigidly. She pursed her lips as a strange light lit her overly bright eyes.

Amanda heard it again, and this time she also saw it in Momo's glittering eyes. That elusive something in Momo's voice. With a kind of shock, her mind registered that it was bitterness. Bitterness and anger. Amanda's comprehending gaze met Momo's.

"I suppose it's my turn to apologize now," Momo said at last, her voice hushed. "That was uncalled for."

Amanda couldn't think of a reply. She was still trying to grasp Momo's jealousy-and it was jealousy. Before she could piece together a coherent reply, Momo muttered hastily, "I had better leave."

She did not allow Amanda a chance to stop her as she virtually fled through the door. Amanda was left standing, staring at the spot where her childhood friend had stood. How long she stood frozen like that, Amanda didn't know. All she remembered was a deep feeling of regret leaving behind the dry, airy taste of ashes in her mouth.

Amanda didn't notice the salty breeze blowing coldly off the sea whipping errant strands of hair about her face. She sat on the rocky beach with her knees drawn up to her chest. For a moment, the tears that burned her throat threatened to fall. Amanda quickly buried her face in the space between her knees and her chest, her forehead resting on her kneecaps.

Her life was in shambles. In the time since she had left the island permanently eleven years ago, she had gone through a disastrous marriage, a divorce, a failed career, and the death of her unborn child. It was the last that finally broke her. She returned to the island, her haven, her shelter in the storm. She came back, wanting Theo and his words of wisdom or just simply his soothing presence. Instead, she came back to see him imprisoned in a wooden box on garish display in the tiny church. And once again, she was alone.

They had said that they had tried to reach her but she was too elusive. Nevertheless, she was back. Theo had left her the house and the restaurant. She could sell if she wished and move back to the city, where she had been living for the past eleven years. Or she could simply rent them out. They understood that the shock was great so, therefore, they were not expecting an immediate answer. She should take some time to think things over and not make any hasty decisions, they had advised.

Amanda wanted to throw her head back and laugh. As if any decision she made really mattered any more. She consciously, forcibly quelled the urge. She was not completely crazy. Not yet, anyway.

Amanda gazed distractedly at the angry scene before her. The grey of the sky blended with the grey of the water. The salty air was on her tongue and the crashing waves resonated in her head.

Amanda lifted her head and flung it back. She could see the gulls circling above her, pale white against the sombre clouds. For the longest time, she watched them soar high above her, dipping and feinting in the air, moving freely, as if without a care in the world. Amanda wrapped her arms protectively around her knees, wishing that she herself could join the birds.

Amanda heard steady footfalls behind her but she did not turn around. They faltered for a moment then continued on until Amanda could see the jean-clad legs in the corner of her eye. Her visitor propped himself down beside her.

"Amanda."

"Michael."

"I heard you were back."

"By now, I think everyone has," she said wryly. "It's a small town."

They both fell silent. Finally, Amanda turned to look at him and asked, "Did you ever finish that guide book?"

He looked back at her and grinned. "Yeah. Eventually."

Amanda rested her cheek on her knee.

"I thought that by now you'd be gone."

"I couldn't leave until I tied up all my loose ends," he replied cryptically.

Amanda looked sharply at him, her gaze questioning. And then she saw him. There has a warm glint in his eyes and a soft smile on his mouth. Perhaps . . .

"And what were the loose ends?"

Quietly, simply, he said, "You."

Then slowly, ever-so-slowly, an answering smile curved Amanda's lips. She reached out and clasped his left hand. Michael threaded his fingers through hers.

She wasn't alone.