Gordon finds some space to remember his mother of the anniversary of her death
It was a quiet day on Tracy Island, the anniversary of their mother’s death.
Every year the day was the same. They shared breakfast with forced cheer, their father trying to forget the day existed and his sons all following suit. They wouldn’t comment on the way his eyes brightened when he looked at John, or how he’d spill the maple syrup when Alan giggled just like she did. He’d carefully swallow the lump in his throat and ask Virgil about his music. Gordon used to look for an opportune moment to disrupt the uncomfortable fiction of this breakfast, too honest and too restless to sit cheerlessly in the lie. It never ended in anything less than a shouting match and his Dad leaving quickly, food pushed around on his plate but never eaten.
“You’re too much like Mom,” Scott had told him quietly as a child. “It’s not your fault that it hurts him.” A decade on and Gordon still had to bite his tongue for most of the meal and rein in his exuberant nature.
Afterwards, the household would pair off in their remembrance; Grandma and Dad, Scott and Alan, Virgil and John. Kayo and Brains would take charge of managing the household in Grandma’s stead, checking in on the family, making sure they ate and got some sun.
And that left Gordon.
Gordon didn’t mind, not really. He had his own traditions.
In the early afternoon, he sat on the beach at the water mark. The sea curled over his feet as he bent forward, one finger tracing out the letters of his message.
The beach had been one of his favourite places to visit when he was small and he still remembers his Mom, hand-in-hand and laughing as they ran away from the waves together. He remembers her kneeling down, heedless of the way her skirt was soaked through, and scrawling “I LOVE YOU” into the wet sand. “The ocean will keep that safe,” she told him as they watched the ocean wash away the inscription. “You can’t take back messages from the sea.”
Every year since then, Gordon would come down to the beach and write his message. He told the ocean about how his brothers were doing, the big dreams his Dad had for them all, how Brains was building new machines that look like something out of a future-flick. How Kayo had smiled less this year. He watched as the waves carried his words away. And then he took a deep breath and wrote a different phrase.
Dear Mom.
“Gordon?”
He started at the uncertain voice that called to him from the forest’s edge. He nodded at the ground next to him and with a flimsy smile, Lady Penelope sat down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder.
“You okay, Lady P?” he asked softly.
“I should be asking you that.”
“Are you?”
She sighed a little and looked out across the water. “It’s quiet up there,” she said.
Gordon nodded. “Yeah, it always is.”
She looked down as the waves crashed over her toes and saw the impression he’d left behind.
“Oh,” she said, suddenly pulling away. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve interrupted you.”
His hand caught hers gently.
“I don’t mean to pry,” she said, hesitantly. “But I’ve always wanted to know more about your mother and John…”
She trailed off, awkward and unsure of her next words. Gordon saw at once what she was trying to say. There was one aspect of his life that John wouldn’t let her in, wouldn’t let anyone in. Gordon had been in exactly her position before, feeling that same bewildered hurt, and he knew he would be again.
“Stay,” he said softly. “Let me tell you about her.”
And she stays and he talks about his Mom in a way he never has before. The inspired wonder she exuded as she explored the world, how she used to quiz him with fun facts on long trips, the way he’d only stay still when she read him books about faraway places. It felt good to share his Mom’s jokes and hear laughter instead of a pained silence, to be enthusiastic about the things they loved together and not have the shadow of her death hang over his words.
It felt natural for his arm to fall across her shoulders, for her small hand to slip around his waist.
“Thank you,” she said, when the torrent of words gave way to a companionable silence.
Gordon smiled tiredly and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.
It was easy. Staying together, neither one willing to relinquish their hold. Gordon bent his head and pressed his eyes into her shoulder. She was warm and comfortable and if she felt the pinprick of tears through her clothes, she didn’t say anything. She just turned her face towards him and kissed him on the cheek.
There’s no chance that she doesn’t hear the way his breath catches, no chance she can miss the thumping in his chest as the blood rushes to his cheeks. There’s no friendly explanation he can give for this and he lifts his eyes to meet hers as she pulls away from him.
“I–” The words fail him as he looks desperately into her eyes.
“It’s okay, Gordon,” she said. Her fingers brush across his skin, a lingering touch that creates a heady gravity he can’t escape from. “You’re okay.”
She extracted herself from his grasp and before he can call her back, before he can ask questions they’ll both regret, she walked back towards the villa.
Lady Penelope leaves but the ghost of her touch remains, keeping the fire under Gordon’s skin alight. He doesn’t move for a long time, his restful body showing no signs of the internal battle between his mind and his heart.
Eventually the flames and the afternoon cooled into evening and Gordon turned back towards the sea. He had to shuffle down to meet the waves, now at low tide, and he rested his elbows on his knees as he leant forward once again.
The one thing he hadn’t told Lady Penelope was how his Mom was a problem solver just like his Dad. He hadn’t talked about the way she would stop whatever she was doing to help him. How she never made him feel stupid for not knowing what to do, or never became impatient with his demands. Gordon couldn’t remember an occasion where his Mom had refused to help someone when she could do something about it.
So he faced the sea and wrote his final message for the waves to carry away in safekeeping.
Dear Mom.
I met this girl see…
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