Chapter Twenty

THE REUNION

The yellow walls, French doors out to a garden, and tightly woven grey carpet were unfamiliar. Drum equipment, an electric guitar, a small electric piano and an amp and their respective power cords snaked around the room. Calder sat behind the drums and his friend Owen stood in the center of the cords, holding a guitar and picking out the notes of a song from memory. Calder tapped his sticks against the snare lightly, trying to keep the pace and maintain a rhythm. It took a few minutes to recognize the tune as “Hey Jude”. Each time Owen plucked a wrong note, he started again from the beginning. The tiny amplifier beside him reverberated.

“Hey, can I jam with you guys?” The man startled the boys, who stopped playing abruptly. He came farther down the steps and stepped over the wires to give Owen a high five. I was shocked to see it was Marcus.

What’s going on?

My dad appeared. Think of it as a little nudge, J.J.

This is a pretty big nudge, Dad. This was not my doing. I assume it was yours? My dad seemed to shrug and vanished.

Typical.

I heard that.

“Sorry, O. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Marcus said to Owen.

“It’s OK.”

“You want introduce me to your friend?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. This is Calder. Calder, this is Marc.”

“Hey.” Calder raised a drum stick.

“You guys sound pretty good. Would it be OK if I played this keyboard?”

“Sure, but it might be too low for you,” Owen said.

“That’s OK. I’ll just get down like this.” Marcus kneeled in front of the tiny electric keyboard and pushed the switch on, causing it to hum to life. “You guys start and I’ll just jump in.”

Owen strummed the first bar of “Hey Jude” again. Marcus quickly caught on and followed Owen’s lead, playing the song perfectly, which helped Owen stumble his way through the whole song without stopping, despite his mistakes. Calder had a look of awe on his face as he pounded out an improvised rhythm.

“Wow! That was so cool!” Owen turned and said to Calder, “Dude, was that not awesome?” Calder nodded his head.

“Mind if I show you something?” Marcus asked Owen. Owen shrugged as Marc eased his way up to a standing position. He held his hand out for Owen’s guitar. He held it against his thighs and positioned his hand on the frets. “If you hold your fingers like this, you’ll be able to change chords faster. Here, you try.” Owen took the guitar and tried to put his fingers in the positions Marcus had shown him. Marcus reached over Owen’s shoulder and helped him place his fingers correctly. “It takes practice, but it really helps when you get it. Try the chord now.” Owen strummed and then changed chords by sliding his finger smoothly down the strut. The next chord came perfectly as did the one after it.

“Nice!” Marcus said when Owen stumbled and stopped playing.

“Cool! That really works! Thanks!”

“No problem, buddy.” Marcus then turned to Calder. “And you know, if you let your wrists go limp as you play, rather than playing with your whole arms, you won’t get as tired. Also you’ll be able to play faster. Can I show you?” Marcus took the sticks from Calder and wedged himself into the tiny slot against the wall as Calder vacated his seat. Marc played a long, upbeat solo that left the kids standing agape. He stopped playing and smiled. “Now you try.” He got up and handed the sticks back to Calder.

Calder sat down, held the sticks over the drums, and began playing, this time mimicking the floppy wrist movement that Marcus had just demonstrated. His drumming seemed smoother. He beamed a smile at Marcus. “I wish you were my drum teacher! I’ve been going to him since I was seven and a half and he never taught me that!”

“Really? That’s like the first rule of drumming. You might need to find a new teacher.”

Seeing Calder and Marcus together seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Before now, I had never imagined them together. Why would I? And now I realized they shared a love of drumming, which of course was no coincidence.

See, son, there’s a reason for everything.

Maya, at her easel, leaned in close to the canvas as she dabbed tiny blobs of rose colored paint to create the pinky slabs of rock that I recognized as a landscape view from her Georgian Bay cabin. The phone rang, and she clamped the paintbrush between her teeth so she could pick up the receiver and still hold the palette.

“Mom! Owen’s mom and dad want to know if you want to come over for dinner. There’s this really cool guy who’s teaching me drums. Can you come now?”

“OK, well, give me a few minutes to get out of my painting clothes...”

Maya hung up and finished adding the last of the paint to her canvas. She stood back and cocked her head to look. She shrugged and stuck her brush into a jar of turpentine, a jar already bristling with other brushes. She wiped the palette clean with a paper towel and screwed some of the lids onto the tubes of paint. She pulled her hair out of its elastic as she walked to the bedroom and opened the louvered closet door, stepped out of the old jeans smeared with paint, and put on a cleaner pair. She slipped a loose sweater over her head. In the bathroom mirror, she brushed on some blush and dragged her fingernails down a strand of hair, trying to rid it of a glob of cadmium red.

“Ugh,” she said to herself, leaning into the mirror. “That’s the best I can do on short notice.”

From the fridge she grabbed a bottle of Prosecco, pulled on a jacket to ward off the late September chill, and walked ten minutes through the ravine to Owen’s house. Patty, Owen’s mom, answered the door.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” Patty ushered Maya in. “We have a friend visiting from Vancouver and thought it would be lovely for you to meet him, you know, since you’re both Canadian,” Patty said as she winked. “Wine?” In the kitchen, Patty took down a glass from the cupboard. Maya placed her bottle on the counter.

Voices and the squeal of a guitar accompanied by a fast drumbeat floated up from the basement stairs.

“The boys are all down there ‘jamming’,” Patty said. “It’s been so cute. Our friend Marc’s been coaching them. He played in a band at one time, I gather.” Patty handed Maya a glass of wine.

“The boys must be loving that.”

Men’s voices were heard on the basement stairs. Ian, Patty’s husband, emerged and walked over to give Maya a hug. Maya wasn’t paying attention to their guest. Ian let go of Maya and turned to Marcus.

“Maya, this is Marc, an old friend who’s visiting from Vancouver.” Maya looked up and froze. Marcus looked just as shocked.

“Hello, Marcus,” Maya said, regaining her composure. Marcus seemed to be catching his breath.

“Marcus? Do you guys know each other?” Patty asked. “Yeah, from a long time ago. And yes, Marcus is my full name, but mostly I just go by Marc. With a ‘C’.”

“Well, it certainly is a small world!” Patty said.

“Hello, Maya.” He approached her and held out his hand. “Good to see you again.” Maya seemed flustered and pulled her hand back. “Maya and I knew each other as kids,” Marc said calmly, still looking at her. “Our families both had cottages on the same lake in northern Ontario.”

“Yes. And Marcus attended Jay’s funeral,” Maya said abruptly.

“And your art opening in Vancouver,” Marcus said.

“Yes,” Maya said, eyeing him.

“This is just amazing!” Patty said.

“Hon,” Ian said, “I think we’re ready to put the burgers on.” Ian held a platter of burger patties and was headed toward the door.

“Shall I join you?” Marcus asked.

Calder came bounding up the stairs. “Marc, will you come listen to us? I think we figured out what you were talking about. You gotta come!” Calder grabbed Marc’s sleeve, pulling him toward the basement.

“I’ll be out here if you need me,” Ian said, disappearing outside.

“Calder, give Marcus a moment. He’s with the adults. Maybe he doesn’t want to play right now,” Maya said. Calder looked at her quizzically.

“Who’s Marcus?”

“It’s my full name,” Marc said. He looked at Calder and then at Maya.

“Calder is your son?” Marcus asked.

Maya shrugged helplessly. “Sorry. I hope he’s not being annoying.”

“I’m not being annoying!” Calder complained. “Marc, pleeeease?”

“I’ll be there in a sec, buddy, K?”

Calder nodded and disappeared back down the basement stairs. The guitar squeals and drumbeats started up again. “Sorry,” Maya said.

“No, I just didn’t connect... He looks different than he did at the funeral,” Marcus said.

“Yeah, he’s cut all that long hair off.”

“Ah, right. I should have known. He looks a lot like you. He’s a really great kid, Maya.”

“Yeah, he is,” Maya replied, looking at Marc directly for the first time.

“I’ll just see what they need. Be back in a sec.” He glanced at Maya before going down to the basement.

The series of events that led to this moment were carefully plotted, though not entirely by me. Calder's interest in drumming came from me, but my father played an obvious part in this meeting of worlds. I couldn’t control the actions of either Maya or Marcus. I was still a reluctant player in this game of fate, not fully convinced that Marcus was the right person for Maya. He still had an arrogance about him that I didn’t like.

“So, Patty, how do you guys know Marcus?” Maya asked as she pulled out one of the bar stools and sat at the kitchen island so she could watch Patty slice tomatoes and onions.

“It’s weird, really. Ian met Marcus at Elliot Bay Bookstore of all places. They got to talking about some book and just sort of hit it off. We began getting together for dinner whenever he was in town and now, rather than stay at some nondescript hotel, he stays with us for a few nights when he’s here. We all just adore him. Amazing that he’s an old friend of yours. Do all you Canadians know each other?”

Maya laughed. “No. We don’t. But it is amazing. He’s the last person I imagined bumping into so close to home.”

“He’s still single...” Patty looked at Maya with a glint in her eye. I could tell she enjoyed this matchmaking role.

Marcus re-appeared from the basement. “Who’s still single?” he asked.

Patty blushed. “Maya is.”

“Patty!” Maya said, blushing.

“What? I know neither of you would ever admit it, so someone has to.”

Maya twisted her wedding ring, now on her right ring finger. Marcus took the stool next to Maya. Neither spoke as they watched Patty arrange buns on a plate. Marc fiddled with the tab on his Coke can.

“Did you know Jay as well, Marc?” Patty asked, breaking the silence.

“A long time ago. I hadn’t seen him since we were teenagers,” Marc replied. “But I know he was a good guy.” Maya looked surprised. I was surprised as well. I always thought Marcus had nothing but contempt for me, being the one Maya chose to marry.

“Such a tragic accident,” Patty said. “Just so meaningless.”

“It sucked,” Maya said.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Marcus said, smiling slightly.

“I have no better words,” Maya said. Another awkward pause followed.

“Are you two OK here for a moment?” Patty said. “I just have to go grab some paper towels from the garage. Be right back.”

Maya turned to Marcus. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Did you just become friends with these people so you could get to me?” Maya asked, sounding accusatory.

“What? That’s ridiculous and you know it. I had no idea you knew Patty and Ian. How would I?”

“Because they live in my neighborhood and have a boy the same age as Calder?”

“I had no idea what neighborhood you lived in, Maya. I don’t even know how old Calder is at this point.”

“Well, it just seems awfully coincidental!” Maya said, her voice shrill.

“I’m back!” Patty pulled the wrapping off a roll and fiddled it onto the holder attached to the wall. Marc and Maya remained silent.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Is everything OK?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.” Maya's face flushed.

“Maya and I were just getting caught up,” Marcus said and smiled at Maya. Maya looked uncomfortable.

Ian came through the door with the empty burger platter and placed it in the sink. “Burgers are on. It’ll be just a few minutes,” he said. Marcus and Maya sipped their drinks as they watched Patty and Ian do the dinner prep dance around the kitchen.

“Is there anything I can do?” Marcus asked.

“I think we have it under control, Marc. Thanks,” Ian said.

“We just need to set the table,” Patty said, juggling a bowl of green salad and another of pasta salad toward the open deck door.

“Here, let me,” Maya said, grabbing the bowl of pasta salad. Marc followed with the platter of buns and a tray of condiments. Ian called the boys from the top of the basement steps and grabbed the wine and another couple bottles of beer. The usual dinner frenzy of items being passed around the table, drinks being poured, all punctuated with laughter made me miss dinner with friends, the smell of meat on the barbecue, the taste of a cold beer.

“So, Maya,” Patty said, “tell me about the cottage where you and Marcus know each other from.”

Maya took a deep breath. “Well, it’s on Georgian Bay, a beautiful part of northern Ontario, where the pine trees have all been blown in the direction of the prevailing wind and there is a lot of rock—”

“Canadian Shield,” Marcus corrected.

“Right,” Maya said, annoyed. “Canadian Shield rock, so there are lots of little islands everywhere. I used to love going there. My family spent entire summers there.”

“Our families were friends,” Marcus interjected. “Our cottages were just down the road from one another.”

“Oh, so you’ve known each other for a long time then,” Ian said.

“My family bought our cottage when I was about ten, and Maya was, what?” Marcus turned to Maya. “Seven?”

“Eight.”

“Eight. Right. I didn’t really meet you until a few years later, but I used to spy on you,” Marcus said.

“You did? You never told me that.”

“I didn’t? Yeah, well I used to swim under my dock and stay there and watch you and your family swimming.”

“Did you have a little puppy crush on Maya?” Patty asked. Both Maya and Marcus blushed.

“I guess I did,” Marc said, grinning before biting down on a burger.

“As we got older, the people on the road got together on the beach and had these huge bonfires...” Maya said, looking wistful.

“Corn roasts,” Marcus interjected. “We would wrap cobs of corn in tin foil and stick them into the coals. They were to die for!”

“Can we try that with the corn next time, Mom?” Owen asked.

“Sounds like fun,” Patty answered.

Maya seemed lost in reverie. I remembered the photograph of her being held by Marcus around one of those bonfires and knew her thoughts were there too.

“Do you remember counting the shooting stars that night?” Maya asked, looking at Marcus.

Marc closed his eyes. “Yeah. An amazing night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stars. We counted, what? Fifteen shooting stars?”

“Something like that. A lot.” Everyone else around the table was quiet as they listened to Maya and Marcus.

“We had some good times, didn’t we, Maya?”

“We did. We really did,” Maya agreed. She looked up at Marc and then around the table at everyone watching her. “Oh! Well, it looks like maybe it’s time to clear the table,” Maya said as she stood up and gathered plates. Patty rushed to help. Marcus and Ian and the boys stayed at the table talking about whether there were people living on Mars. In the kitchen, Maya stood beside Patty as she rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher.

“You and Marcus have quite the history together,” Patty said, taking another dish from Maya.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other a long time. Actually, Marcus was my first love if you want to know the truth.”

“Really?” Patty stopped to look at Maya. “Your first love?”

“Yeah.”

“No wonder you guys were getting all googlie-eyed with each other out there.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t googlie-eyed!” Maya said.

“Oh yes you were. And so was he.”

“No! I’m not at all interested in Marcus!” Maya's voice came across sharply and she looked to be close to tears.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Maya, I didn’t mean to imply anything. It’s just...” Patty stammered.

“I am not interested in Marcus Pellegrino! Really.”

“OK,” Patty said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, Maya.” Patty put her hand on Maya's back.

“Sorry,” Maya said, regaining her composure. “It’s just—”

“No need to explain. Will you take these out?” Patty handed Maya the dessert plates and forks and then followed her out with the pie. Marcus’s eyes were on Maya as she leaned over the table to set a plate and a fork down at each place setting. She sat and took another sip of wine, avoiding eye contact with Marcus. Patty sliced the blackberry pie.

“Homemade from blackberries picked from our own garden. I froze them last summer.”

“This looks amazing, Patty, as usual,” Marcus said as he put a forkful into his mouth and closed his eyes, savoring and letting out an audible moan. “Delicious.”

“Thank you, Marc. I’m so glad you like it. You’re always so easy to please.”

“When are you leaving?” Maya asked abruptly. “Leaving?” Marcus seemed lost for words. “The day after tomorrow. Why?”

“No reason,” Maya said and dug into her pie. Marcus turned away from Maya and asked Ian about a book they had obviously discussed before. Maya and Patty talked about the upcoming school auction. The boys jumped up from their half-eaten plates of pie and disappeared back to the basement. When everyone had finished, Marcus stood up and began collecting dishes. Patty started to help him.

“Maya and I have this, Patty. You sit. Have a moment with your husband.”

“That’s very sweet, Marcus. Thanks.”

Maya stood and glared at Marc, obviously not pleased to be in his company. In the kitchen, Maya took Patty’s place by the sink and rinsed plates before putting them into the dishwasher.

“What’s going on here, Maya?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re acting awfully strange.”

“Am I? I guess I’m just not very comfortable having the man I committed adultery with being friends with the family of one of my son’s friends. You might say it feels a little awkward for me.”

“You’re not acting like it’s awkward.”

“What do you mean?” Maya asked.

Marcus took a step toward her. “All that talk about the bonfire. You were reminiscing. We were in love then, Maya, remember?” Marcus touched the top of Maya's hand with his finger.

Maya pulled her hand away like she’d been stung. “That was a long time ago, Marcus.”

“I can understand you’re feeling guilty, but you’re not married anymore,” Marc said quietly.

“What happened between us is done. It was a mistake on my part, and it didn’t mean anything. I love Jay.”

“Of course you loved Jay. But I don’t believe I meant nothing to you. We had something real. Just like there was something real all those years ago. Something I think about every day and I have a feeling you do as well.”

Maya hiccupped a quick intake of breath. “Don’t do this, Marcus.”

“Do what?”

Patty walked into the kitchen with a pie plate, a mangled slice pooled in the center, two empty glasses of milk, and an empty bottle of wine.

“Uh, we can’t keep talking about the past!” Maya grabbed another one of the glasses that Patty had set on the counter and jammed it into the dishwasher. Patty gave Marc a wide eyed expression that said, “Did I interrupt something?” and Marcus shook his head.

“Patty, this has been a lovely evening, thank you so much, but we really have to get going. It’s a school night.”

“I’m so glad you and Marc were able to meet and reconnect!”

“Me too,” Marcus said. “It’s been great for Maya and I to revisit our past.”

Maya said nothing and went to the top of the basement stairs to call Calder, who came up, reluctantly.

“Aww, why do we have to go?”

“It’s a school night. You have an early morning,” she said. “Just another half an hour?”

“No. We’re going now, Calder. Did you have a coat?” Hugs were exchanged between Maya and Patty and Ian, and Marcus gave Calder a high five.

“Hope to see you again soon, K, buddy?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Calder said. Maya stood waiting for the exchange to be over and then ushered Calder out the door. When she turned back to say her final farewell, Marcus stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace. He held her tight. At first she stiffened, but then she seemed to just let go.

“It’s good to see you again, Marcus,” she said, her voice wavering. “Have a good trip back to Van.” She turned quickly and put her hand into the air for a wave without turning around. Outside on the sidewalk, Maya followed Calder, who raced down the street toward the path into the ravine. She blotted her eye with a fingertip as she walked. Calder waited for Maya and by the time she caught up to him, she had calmed herself.

“I wish we had a friend like Marcus who would come to visit us,” he said, now dragging a stick along the damp path, lit by moonlight.

“Why?”

“Dunno. He’s cool I guess.”

Maya looked up at the full moon and closed her eyes as she walked.

The next day, Maya stood in front of her half finished painting, her brush hovering. The pristine Georgian Bay scene with mounds of coral rock that looked like the backs of submerged tortoises in inky water, and a sky wispy with clouds. She dabbed her brush in paint and began to stroke a thin layer of white across the sky. I thought of that view, standing on her deck, and remembered the scene in the bunkhouse playing air guitar. With that thought, Pat Benatar singing “You’re a Heartbreaker” came on the radio.

“Seriously?” Maya said aloud.

Jay, is that you?

Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.

Christ. Are you trying to tell me something?

Just remembering.

Is this about Marcus?

I didn’t know the answer to that question. Was it?

Is this some sort of cruel sign I am meant to be with Marcus?

I don’t know, Maya. But it might be.

She scooped white paint onto her brush and smeared it across the sky, obliterating the entire scene with big white globs. She stabbed at the canvas with her brush, piercing it with what looked like bullet holes. She stabbed over and over, tears taking over, and then she grabbed the painting off the easel, which crashed to the floor, spilling the jars of brushes, glass smashing. She screamed and tried to break the painting over her knee, the canvas giving way but the wooden frame remaining intact. She stomped on the frame to break it apart, crying, “Stupid, stupid, stupid! I can’t do this!”

Maya sat amid the wreckage in a corner of the sunroom, hugging her knees to her chest until the crying stopped and her face, streaked with tears and white paint, slackened.