The Wideness of the Sea Page 2

  “Aunt Catherine already talked to the priest at St. Pat’s. Monday or Tuesday would be best, considering the weekend mass schedule.” Anna could hear her sister gently shooing away her two-and-a-half-year-old. Anna adored her nephew Henry, and smiled at the thought of him. Marie succeeded in bribing him with a lollipop. “Think you’ll bring Raphael?” she asked.

  “Not sure yet, I’ll talk it over with him. He’s with some friends at the moment so I’ll wait till we head home. I’ll call tomorrow, let you know our plans. Hey Marie, where’d it happen? The heart attack, I mean,” Anna suddenly thought to ask.

  “You know where they unload the lobster traps at the co-op? He was out there watching the boats coming in.” Anna knew that spot. It was right where they had seen the blue lobster. How strange that she should think of that memory today.

  Georgia came rushing up to Anna just as she put her phone down, her boyfriend Jake headed over to where Raphael sat. “You are not going to believe what is happening over there at that table,” she said, kissing Anna’s cheeks. “Cronuts. Cronuts are happening,” Georgia gushed.

  Anna sat stone-faced, not saying anything. “What’s wrong with you? I say Cronuts and you say nothing? Did someone die or something? Oh my gosh, someone did, didn’t they?”

  Anna nodded, her chest and her throat tight. Finally she pointed to the bathroom, which mercifully had no line. She was so glad her friend was there in the safety of the tiny, warm bathroom.

  “My uncle died. My sweet, sweet uncle. He was three years younger than my dad! He lived a mile down the road from us my whole life.” Saying it out loud helped make it real. Her uncle had died. Vibrant, hilarious, bigger-than-life Uncle Charlie was gone.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” She hugged her friend, and suddenly the balloon in Anna’s chest burst, and tears started to overflow. Georgia pulled out a handful of tissues and put them up next to her cheeks, catching them as they fell.

  A little later, after waving goodbye to everyone, Anna pulled her camel coat tighter around herself to ward off the spring evening and took hold of Raphael’s arm as they walked to find a cab. His wide muscles felt nice under his white shirt, no doubt the same one he wore to work as a trader earlier that day, since it was Friday and they always went straight out for drinks after work. She waited until they were riding in the cab, the lights of the city hitting Raphael’s face, illuminating his impossibly long eyelashes, to tell him.

  “My sister called while we were there. My uncle Charlie passed away,” Anna said. Her mind went back to his cozy white cottage on the ocean, where she had spent so much time growing up. For some reason she thought of the funny-shaped ice cubes his ancient freezer made that he always put in her soda. She could hear his strong voice laughing in her ear. She could see his brown eyes, so like her father’s, always asking questions, and she could see the cigar in his hand that was practically an appendage. She loved the smell of his cigar. Her chest twisted as she thought of him, her mind trying to evade the painful information that he was gone.

  “Was he the one we stayed wit’ a few summers ago?” Raphael asked. “The one wit’ the house on the harbor?” His very slight Argentinean accent came out sometimes after a few drinks. He reached out his hand to embrace hers, his nails too short from chewing on them, his skin perpetually tan. Anna thought back. They had been dating for almost four years, so it would be when they had just started dating that she had brought him home. The idea of staying with her father was out, since at that time she and her dad had barely spoken in almost three years, so they stayed with Uncle Charlie. Anna put her hand in his.

  “Yeah,” she said. She stared at Uncle Charlie’s number on her phone. She longed to call him, to hear his voice again on the other line. “That’s the one.”

  “I’m sorry, hon. He was an amazing guy. And one hell of a poker player.”

  Anna smiled at the memory of Raphael losing to her uncle that weekend. Nothing won respect for Raphael faster than bragging rights. “He was an amazing guy,” she said nodding, the city lights blurred by her tears.

  Chapter 2

  “Raphael’s not coming,” Anna said to her sister the next morning. “He can’t leave work at the moment. Something to do with China and U.S. treasuries, not sure what it’s all about but he can’t get away. I’m flying up tonight. Can I stay with you?” She tossed some socks and sweaters into a red suitcase as she spoke. She hoped her sister didn’t catch the strain in her voice, giving away the disappointment she felt that Raphael couldn’t come.

  “I’ll clean up the spare bedroom,” Marie said, “but what about staying with Dad?”

  Anna’s brain cramped at the thought of entering her father’s house, bags hanging at her side.

  “Thanks, I’ll take the spare room. Don’t worry about the mess,” Anna said. She heard Marie’s muffled voice over the phone say to Henry, “No, honey, no cookies before breakfast, I said.” Despite the cloud of grief she was in, she was excited to see her nephew. “So I’m flying into Portland at six forty-five. Sorry, I know that’s right in the middle of dinner, but you’ll be there, right?”

  “I’ll be there. Mike is home tonight, and actually, it will be nice to process everything,” Marie said. “It is so hard to remember Uncle Charlie just died while I am chasing after Henry. Want to grab dinner in Portland on the way back?” she asked. The artsy port town was about an hour and a half south of her sister’s house in Damariscotta, and Anna welcomed the idea of a night with her sister in such a cozy city.

  “Sounds perfect,” Anna said as she threw her makeup bag into her luggage. “See you soon.”

  Anna quickly called Genevieve’s cell. Her boss picked up right away. “Why aren’t you sleeping in like all the other twenty-somethings in this city?” she said with her typical sarcasm. Anna had learned long ago that this was just a cover for her vulnerable core. She also knew that Genevieve was already dressed, had walked her Corgi, and was seated at the café right across from her apartment like she was every Saturday morning at 8 am.

  “Hey Genevieve. I’m actually heading to Maine for a funeral - my uncle just passed away suddenly. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, probably next week.” Anna stood staring at her reflection in the window of her living room, her long dark wet hair and white robe making her look even younger than her twenty-eight years.

  “Oh, darling, I’m sorry to hear that. Take whatever time you need, of course. Sarah and I can fill in at the gallery on your days. Though I am dying to see what you are working on right now.”

  Anna glanced over at the large canvas in her living room. She liked the start of it, the older couple sat leaning into each other in a sweet way at the table outside a restaurant, her brush strokes bold though the scene came off as soft, but she was stuck on the woman’s face.

  “It can wait, of course. Call me as soon as you know when you’re coming back. Big hugs, dear,” Genevieve said. Anna knew she could count on Genevieve to be supportive. She was the closest thing Anna had to family in the city, beside Raphael and Georgia. Though she was fiercely competitive and had a sophisticated, cynical New Yorker attitude, she was quite maternal to Anna. They were lucky to have found each other years ago.

  She put the phone down and tossed it into her bag with its charger. She glanced at the painting. It could wait. The city would barely notice she was gone. Except for Miranda, she quickly remembered. She pulled out her phone to text her.

  Sorry, M. I have to go up to Maine for a funeral. My uncle just passed away suddenly.

  In seconds, three little dots appeared.

  Oh no, Anna. So sorry to hear it. My mom and I will pray for your family.

  Thanks, love. Will get in touch when I am back in town and we’ll reschedule, ok? And I will work on your essay while I’m in Maine, I promise.

  Ok! Thank you! Anna laughed at the string of hearts and smiles the young girl sent back as a reply.

  Anna also realized she should give Georgia a call – she had to leave early this morning
for a photography job. “Hey Georgia, it’s me, just wanted to let you know I’m headed to Maine for the funeral and everything, and I am probably going to stay with my family for a little while,” she said. “Can you pile up my mail on my dresser? Thanks, Peaches, give me a call when you can.” Anna shook the towel through her wet hair, and stared at the painting. She walked over, and realized exactly what the woman should look like. She picked up a brush, and suddenly filled in her face, the blush in her cheeks a cheerful red that matched the tulips in the window box behind her. She wasn’t finished, but it was an improvement.

  A few hours later, she sat at the airport with Raphael, the table littered with coffee stirrers and the detritus of their lunch. She was glad he came to see her off, a last deposit of moral support before the storm.

  “I wish you could come with me,” she said.

  “I wish I could too, it’s just the hardest time to get away. I’ll call you every day, I promise. Please, try to take this time for you and your family. You’ll be back before you know it,” he said, his eyes smiling, his hands reassuring her.

  “I know. It’s just you’re such a great distraction around my dad. Without you there I might actually have to talk to him.”

  “Look, as Uncle Charlie would tell you from his perch on a cloud, there might not be that much time left with your dad. Maybe you should go and try to smooth things over. As my grandfather from Argentina used to say, find some buena onda with him. Good vibrations,” he said. Something about the way he crooked his head and the earnest way he was trying to help Anna get along with her father made him look like a little boy, and she laughed out loud.

  “Ok, Raph, I will go try to find some bueno onda with him.”

  At her gate, which felt unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon, Anna bought every tabloid magazine in the bookstore. She looked over at the novels along the wall and sighed. There wasn’t a brain cell left that could concentrate tonight. She just felt tremendously sad. That Charlie was gone. That she was traveling to his funeral alone. She dreaded the funeral. Her legs turned to live wires just as her feet turned to cinderblocks when she imagined the funeral home, the wake, the cemetery. She thought of all the time her family had spent at Uncle Charlie’s house. His view of the ocean was so special, they just naturally gathered there for weekend meals and holidays. When her mother was still alive she used his boathouse for painting. Uncle Charlie always encouraged them to come over, especially after her mom passed away. She wished she could just walk into his house like she used to, grab a drink, look at the view, and listen to him crack jokes with everyone. She remembered how competitive he was, how he always wanted them to play poker so he could beat them and gloat. She thought she had more time to see him, to have another visit and play one more game of poker.

  But most of all she was tired. Grief had curled through her body like a whisper of smoke and sedated every muscle. She wanted to lie down and never get up. But they were calling to board her plane, so she pulled herself up from the sticky leather seat and got in line.

  She made her way to her seat and buckled in, and before they had lifted off the ground, she was asleep.

  Anna woke to a soft dinging sound, a flush of the toilet, and someone coughing. A cold stream of air was coming at her from somewhere, and she pulled her cashmere cardigan closer around her shoulders. Her hair had fallen out of her ponytail holder, and she looked out the window with her blurry eyes as she fixed it. She could see her reflection in the window, and her blue eyes and rosy complexion stared back at her, though she could see dark circles under her eyes. There was a runway beneath them, and the sun was setting in the western sky, making for a dramatic horizon. She felt her stomach lurch as they descended, and she pushed the back of the seat in front of her to steady herself.

  The owner of the cough glanced over at her, his blue oxford neatly pressed and his glasses making him look intelligent. “Looks like you don’t enjoy this part,” he said. He had the fingers of one hand inside a thick book while the other hand rested on his thigh. “What brings you to Maine?” he asked, his interest hard to ignore.

  “A funeral,” Anna said. Her throat was dry and her head hurt. The man stiffened and he crossed his arms.

  “Sorry to hear that,” he said.

  “Thanks,” she said. She wasn’t feeling the least bit chatty, so she pulled out one of her magazines and feigned intense interest at the divorce of two movie stars. Thankfully, her neighbor followed suit and opened his book. They stayed that way until they felt the jolt of the wheels hitting the ground. Anna looked out her window, and a small pocket of her heart expanded as her eyes took in the landscape. It was filled with tall pine trees, not Christmas-tree shaped, but Northern white pine trees that had wide middle branches and narrow upper and lower branches. These were Maine pine trees. When she saw them, Anna knew she was home.

  She checked her messages as she waited to get off the plane, and there was already one from Raphael. Goodnight Anna. I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow.

  She texted him back the same, then let Marie know she was there, and headed to baggage claim. Her phone dinged, I’m outside, just as her bag came around the carousel. She grabbed it and headed out to the sidewalk where her sister’s silver minivan was waiting.

  Anna was so happy to see her sister’s dimpled smile and chestnut brown eyes. Her sandy blond hair was pulled back, and the bangs she had cut since Anna had last seen her were overgrown and resting in her eyelashes. They made her look youthful, and instantly transported Anna back to their childhood, when she wore bangs and ponytails every day.

  “Hey there,” her sister said, hugging her hard. “Feels like ages since I’ve seen you. You look great. Very sophisticated.”

  Anna glanced down at her leather jacket over her cardigan, and realized that her everyday dress in the city was considered dressed up in Maine. “Thanks. I think I just put on something that felt like armor to deal with all the heartache. Love the bangs. How’s everyone doing?”

  “Ok. They’re in planning mode. But no one has made it to his house yet. I think Dad is planning on stopping there. To get his suit.”

  They both fell quiet as her sister made her way out of the airport. The reality kept hitting Anna anew, like a wave that kept crashing on the rock of her consciousness.

  As the minivan settled onto the highway, Marie sighed. “Let’s go get a drink in Portland,” she said.

  “Sounds perfect,” Anna said.

  As they drove she took in the roads that were so familiar to her but she had not laid eyes on in a long time. Their names and landmarks seemed to trigger her memory, like the negative of a photo. Portland had been one of her favorite towns ever since her mom used to bring them along to her art shows. They had rented a house one summer on Peak Island, a few miles out in Casco Bay, just a short ferry ride away from Portland. Her mom had spent the early mornings painting scenes from the island, and they bought ice cream from the tiny store, and picked wild blueberries in the bushes, and swam for hours in the chilly ocean waters, watching the ferry come and go.

  They parked near the ferry landing, and walked around the cobblestone streets in Old Port. They picked a quiet bistro and settled into plates of comfort food. Immediately, their senses were ambushed with pleasure, from the glow of candles and the warmth of the fire, the smells of garlic and roasted meat. They settled into plush chairs under glowing sconces, and happily ordered a bottle of red from the cheerful server that moved with such grace, her smile permanently fixed. She returned with the wine and took their order, and as it breathed, so did they.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” Marie finally said.

  “I can’t either. Did he, you know, have any pain? Did he say anything when it was happening?” Anna asked, heartbroken to picture her uncle’s last moments. “No, they said it was massive, he died very quickly.”

  “Do you think it’s easier? To have it happen quickly? Or to have time, like we did with mom?”

  “I don’t know,” Mar
ie answered. “They are both so hard, but I guess to have time, to know, is easier on us. To have them feel no pain, though. That’s easier on them.”

  Anna nodded and stared out the window. “Do you think he knew?”

  Marie looked at her. “Aunt Catherine said he had stopped by her house that morning, just to say hi. It wasn’t something he normally did. He brought over some coffee he thought she would like, gave her a hug, and shook hands with Uncle Joe. Isn’t that weird?”

  Anna thought of her daydream yesterday at the time her Uncle died. “I don’t think it’s weird. I think that sounds about right.”

  “I’m just relieved he didn’t suffer.”

  Anna nodded. “How’s Dad doing?”

  “He’s just really quiet. He hasn’t talked about it much, other than logistics.”

  “Well that is hard to picture. Dad quiet?”

  “He’s taken it hard, Anna. Go easy on him this week, ok?”

  The waiter reappeared and set down plates with glowing piles of meat and pasta.

  “I wasn’t going to go on him at all, Marie. If you recall he usually has a go on me,” Anna said, diving into the pappardelle with a highly polished fork. “Anyway, I have a new motto I am trying out. Bueno onda. It means good vibrations in Spanish.”

  “Well, this food is giving me bueno onda,” Marie said laughing. “This place is amazing. My short ribs are literally melting in my mouth. Hey, have you eaten at Stephen’s restaurant yet?”

  “No, I have been meaning to but Providence is three hours north of me. I haven’t had that big of a window to trek up there,” Anna said.

  “Maybe after all this settles we can try to make it down there.”

  Anna agreed. “Or if he has pasta like this, even sooner.” They ate until their stomachs were full and happy, even if their hearts were still heavy.

  They got in the car and drove home, past Bath Iron Works, through Wiscasset, past Booth Bay, then through Damariscotta, the lights of the little town twinkling in the Damariscotta River, through Bristol, until they wound their way down the road to Pemaquid. This was where Anna had grown up - a small quiet town nestled out on a peninsula in mid-coast Maine. It was where all her childhood memories could be summoned, where despite its peace and tranquility, held the kind of power over her that a place called home seems to have.