Fare Forward Read online

  "I've been driving your grandfather back and forth a lot lately. To the airports. He's traveling all the time. Especially to Switzerland, right? I think he said Geneva?"

  I could smell the sea, the sweet air blowing in through the window. It's much warmer than it was in New York, and the late fall sun warms me through the window of the car.

  "It's so pretty here, Charlie, it never changes."

  But he doesn't hear me. He wants to talk about my grandfather. "He loves to tell me about that thing—the Super—"

  "collider?"

  "Yep, that's it. Supercollider. I hear that thing is huge. Might even blast us into the future, right? I saw something on PBS about it. "

  "Uh huh."

  "Someday, it's gonna be a whole story about him you know." He turns around to look at me. His tanned arm, still dark from the summer days on the beach, draped casually over the seat. "They're all so different, those physics types who come to the house." He exhales slowly, making a slight whistling sound. "Maggie has told me about them over the years, a strange group they are." He catches himself as he clarifies. "I mean, Gabriella, interesting, you know how I love Dr. Vogel. No offense intended."

  "Hey, don't worry about it, Charlie." I return his smile. "I hear you."

  "They just kind of stick out when they're in Gloucester."

  "Well, that's what I love about being home. I don't."

  He laughs to himself, amused by what I have just said. "Yeah, right," I hear him say under his breath.

  I think about the relationship I have with this northern cape of Massachusetts. Like the one between the earth and moon. The magnetic attraction and gravitational pull that creates the tides, fluctuating as the moon travels around the earth. The rise and fall of the world's oceans seems to mirror my own emotional state, the personal struggles I have faced, and even my desire to find the elusive understanding of my family. Now, there is something bigger than everything else: Benjamin.

  * * *

  38

  * * *

  CHARLIE TURNS OFF of Route 128 at our exit and drives along the familiar side roads toward the center of Gloucester. I feel all the tension leaving my body. As we come over the crest of the hill, the beautiful endless vista of the Atlantic Ocean comes into view. The car circles through the narrow streets and passes the iconic sculpture of the Gloucester fisherman, a memorial to the thousands of souls who lost their lives to the sea. The center of downtown is very different from the private beachfront property where our home is. Small shops, bakeries, and restaurants create a distinctive urban character, dominated by the fishing industry that is its lifeblood. Many of the houses have small white plaques with details of the sea captains or sailors who had lived there and established this outpost on the northernmost point of Cape Ann in the early 1600s. They defined so much of the economy and history of New England as many tried to build their lives in the new world. With the crush of summer tourists gone, the town returned to its true character. Generations of hard working people descended from Irish, Italian, and Portuguese immigrants.

  "Charlie, have you seen the Sullivans lately? I would love to see Lily."

  He looks at me in the rearview mirror, his face becomes somber.

  "Of course, Gabriella, Lily is doing great. She's already the favorite teacher at the middle school. Always happy, an amazing person, given everything she has to deal with."

  I called her often from New York and think about a recent conversation. The adversity she had overcome lived in me, as did the memory of how all our lives had changed in an instant when we were eleven years old. When the car had come around the corner, and I had known.

  "You sound different, Gabriella, did you meet someone special?" Lily asked.

  I could picture her sitting on the porch with the phone in her hand. I wondered how she could see directly into my heart. "Lily, I wish you would reconsider, come to New York. We could live together, all of us. Get the right kind of place."

  "Gabriella."

  "It would be as we planned. Emily, you, and me. I really need you."

  "I don't need to be in New York to be with you, you know that."

  "I know, but still."

  "Tell me about school, tell me everything. Your grandfather has been written up endlessly in the papers and not just the local ones, TIME Magazine and on television, CNN, the internet. I try to keep up with him, with both of you."

  "Everything is changing, Lily."

  "Yes."

  "Things are starting to happen," I said.

  "Gabriella, you've met him. Someone wonderful, haven't you?" she asked.

  "As my grandmother predicted," I continue.

  "I knew you would," she says with satisfaction.

  * * *

  I hear the crushed-shell stones under the tires, the sound I have trained my ears for over the years. Often it signaled the return of my grandfather after a long absence of lectures and travel. Now the sound is of my return, continuing along the path that he has set out for me.

  "Well, here we are, safe and sound!" Charlie puts the car in park and stops to look at the overwhelming view from this vantage point.

  I press my nose to the window as I did when I was young. The blue-gray ribbon of sea extends as far as I can see. The water is still rough from the earlier storm and the white caps of the waves rise and crash down on the beach. The distinctive salt smell and the familiar sounds of seagulls and Indian summer are still in the air.

  "Hey, Gabriella, I just remembered. I saw Maggie in town earlier. She said she wasn't going to be home until later. Did you tell her you were coming?"

  "No, Charlie, I didn't," I answer as I open the car door and turn to face the ocean. I see the surfers who appear after every storm, looking for waves to ride into shore. I still have an hour or so before sunset and decide to find my wet suit and go down for a swim.

  "Gabriella, is there anything else?" He watches me look at the surfers.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Charlie. You know, I have to say, it really seems like I've been gone a long time. Everything feels so different."

  "Everything is the same around here, Gabriella." He shrugs. "Actually I think it's you that's different."

  Our eyes meet and I remember what I wanted to say to him.

  "Please, don't tell Maggie that I'm here if you see her in town later. I want to surprise her."

  "No worries. I'll see you at the end of the weekend." He winks at me and puts the car in reverse. "And be careful. I know you're one of those crazies who likes to swim in the ice cold water. The undertow has been vicious lately."

  "Thanks, Charlie." I give him a hug. "I'll be fine."

  I slam the car door and walk up the path to the house, thinking about what he has just said about me being different, and how even he can see the amazing and complete shift in my life.

  * * *

  39

  * * *

  I DROP MY BAGS IN the front hall and look out at the timeless view of the dunes, sea, and sand. It feels so good to be away from the architecture studios, New York, and everything that has happened. This is a rare opportunity to have the house to myself.

  "We on the East Coast are the guardians of the rising sun." My grandfather often reminded me.

  We would watch the path it traveled until the end of the day when the shadows it cast illuminated the grasses and pond outside our windows. The back of the house that faced the ocean was carefully composed, a wall of glass designed to frame a perfect view of the sea. I walk down the long gallery toward the staircase and see the many paintings on the walls. Interspersed with well-known contemporary artists of the last hundred years are my own paintings, even ones from when I was very young.

  I had pleaded with my grandmother years before. "Please, don't hang that one. It's terrible."

  "Art is subjective, dear. You know that, besides I want it here, with me. I can see the way your mind works in the shapes and lines. I can feel your heart."

  The memory stops me, the words she had spoken were the
same as Benjamin's. I think about my painting in his loft and can't understand any of it: the magnetic draw I cannot deny, the terrifying reaction my grandfather had when I mentioned his name, or the reality of Benjamin's constant absence. Too many unanswered questions.

  And I think of my grandmother. The many times we were on the roof under the blanket of stars. The things she would say to me.

  "Your life is limitless, Gabriella."

  "I don't understand."

  "You can't imagine the places, the worlds out there."

  "I want to."

  She would look away and pull me closer.

  "Why are you sad?" I had asked her.

  "I wish I could be here with you, when it happens."

  "When what happens?"

  "Everything."

  "Everything?"

  "Your first real kiss, when you hold hands, when you feel the pounding inside of your heart or that it simply might stop, when you find what you're looking for."

  "You will, you will be with me."

  "Look up there, Gabriella." She pointed into the night sky. "Can you see it?"

  "What?"

  "Forever."

  "Where?"

  "All around you."

  There is so little I feel sure of except for one thing. Benjamin is part of my future. I know it; I have seen it, and I am hanging on to this belief.

  Trying to trust my heart.

  * * *

  The sun casts its last light across the grasses that shape the path to the beach. The sea breeze touches my cheek, acknowledging my return. This is the image, the sensation I hold in my mind when I am away for too long. I can conjure up the feeling of the wind on my face and the rhythmic sound of the sea, as if I was standing right there. My hand skips along the old wooden fence that is so characteristic of the New England beaches, marking the procession up then down to the sea. The dunes create a natural buffer that hides the swimmers from the road and scattered homes.

  I zip up my wet suit, knowing that without it the shock of the water's temperature will be too much to bear. A tradition I try to engage in every time I return home, the swim is like the ancient ritual of immersion that centers around the idea of hope. The belief that in moving waters is the power to purify. My ancestors had performed this physical act, and I knew it was often used to represent a radical change of heart or total commitment to something. Or someone.

  A group of geese sound their way in the sky above, heading south for the winter on their cyclical path. The drive from their instinct telling them exactly where to go and what to do. Lucky, to find answers that are buried deep in their DNA. No room for doubt.

  I walk toward the horizon and close my eyes. The icy bite stings my ankles. I push off from the sandy bottom, and my legs float up as my body becomes horizontal. I feel the tug of the moon and the power of the tide as my body is lifted out into the sea. The sky is pink and orange, a composition of shapes created as the sun moves into the west and clings to the last moments of the day. My ears submerge below the surface and connect to the sounds of the marine world. Safe and familiar, quiet. I rest in the rocking motion of the water as it carries me away from the shore.

  I want to empty my mind, to feel all these sensations, but the powerful force in my head is back. When I can see things, that are about the future. But this time, it's different and—amazingly—it feels wonderful. I welcome the feeling, because it's about him.

  We are together, far away on a beach. Not Gloucester, not even on the Atlantic but somewhere else, warm and secluded. I see the water that is so blue, bluer than any I have ever seen. The soft, warm breeze blows over my body, and I touch the white-powder sand. I scoop it up and let it escape slowly through my fingers, feeling its softness. My head rests on a towel and he leans over me, blocking the light so I can look into his green eyes, impossibly close to my face. I love the way he feels.

  "Gabriella," he says my name, softly, slowly.

  "Yes?"

  "Is this what you thought it would be like?"

  My mouth covers his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. I push them open with mine as I drink him in. I want to answer his questions with my body.

  "Yes, no—I hoped it would feel like this—but it's better. So much better." I pause to fill the space with words from my heart. "We are the lucky ones."

  "Do you know how much I love you?"

  My fingers touch the line of his brow. I lift the bottom of his soft ear and wrap my hands around the back of his neck and pull his face closer to mine.

  "How do you know?" My voice is low.

  "What do you mean?"

  "How do you know when someone loves you, really loves you. For the right reasons. That you'll be loved no matter what happens?"

  "You will." He leans over and whispers to me, "You already are."

  I feel his breath and lips on my neck as he moves down between my breasts. My body rises to meet his mouth. Soft, warm, slow. There is no need to hurry, no rush.

  We have forever.

  "I don't want you to worry about anything, Gabriella. Know that I will always come back for you."

  I don't want to talk. I want to feel him, all of him, everywhere.

  "Yes, I know, I believe it. We'll be together. Now kiss me."

  His eyes burn into mine. "Remember that. It's the only way."

  As I reach out I feel him dissolve and slip away, my hands slice instead through icy water.

  It's over. The beautiful vision, the dream of him with me. Gone. I'm alone—in the dark. Suddenly, I feel the familiar rocking motion of the water change into a twisting, pulling sensation. I have drifted much farther away from the shore than I had intended, and panic wells up inside of me as I drift farther away from where I want to be. I scan the horizon for lights. The waves grow with intensity as the incredible undertow pulls me out. I try to swim, pushing my body with every ounce of energy I have, using sheer will to force my arms through the icy water. The waves are crushing and pulling me under. Spinning and throwing me about, like one of the many lobster buoys that dot the coast. I realize that I am going nowhere; the force of nature is too powerful to overcome.

  Try to stay calm, I tell myself.

  I tread water and catch my breath, get my bearings, but my arms are thrashing for survival. I reach toward the surface but am repeatedly pulled down, and I submerge. I force myself back into the night sky and gasp for air and try to escape the horrifying feeling of being sucked down.

  Oh my God, my mind screams in panic. My legs are numb from the cold, and I try again to gather my strength and swim, propelling my body forward. I am unwilling to accept the terrifying inevitability of what is happening. The vacuum pulls me farther into the grip of the sea. Air bubbles, floating, twisting hair, and limbs create a swirling composition of fear and wonder. Salt water rushes into my lungs and its weight carries me down, deeper, into the infinite blue space. Darkness wraps around like a thick fog as I become one with the sea. The crushing pain is gone now because I've left my heart behind.

  Yet, I can feel him with me, the way our bodies would meet in the dark and in the light, floating in the moving tide of our pleasure, the worlds between us melting. I need to remember—I will always remember—everything I love about him. I know that I could paint every one of his words with my brush, draw the shape of his breath with my pen, and sculpt the meaning of his thoughts into stone. But I understand that it cannot be. I'm tired of fighting, searching, and trying to understand. Instead I let go to the powerful force and know that, no matter what happens, this is not the end.

  The last conscious thought I have is the faint recognition of a strong hand pulling me up and out of the sea.

  Back into the night air and this world.

  * * *

  40

  * * *

  EVEN THOUGH MY EYES are closed, I know he is with me.

  I can see myself, down on the sand, lying still. I want to gasp for the breath I thought had left me forever. But I can't. I try to answer him, meet the sadness in h
is words and tell him that I am here. There is the astonishing shock of pain and cold trying to rocket my senses back to the world of the living. I need to be there with him, to feel him touching me, but I know I am caught between two worlds. I need to get back.

  "Gabriella!"

  I hear my name being called. It sounds so far away.

  "Please, Gabriella, please breathe!" His words break the silence, the mystery of how I got to this cold, dark place. But, I know one thing. He has pulled me from the waters. Saved me.

  I want to get back into my body and feel the stillness of the earth under me. I know the rocking motion and pull of the sea is far away and I fight for my consciousness to return. I hear his voice, desperate, pleading, and something else: The waves crashing on the beach. I recognize that I am no longer in their grasp but safely away from their overwhelming force and power. His weight is on me, shielding my body from the night wind, heavy and warm. I try to form thoughts of what has happened, as flashes of memory tear through my mind.

  "No! Please, come back to me. Come back," he begs.

  I want to answer, to tell him that I am here with him, but I can't.

  My eyes will not open. My body feels heavy, my lungs are full of water. His head moves, he listens to my chest. His mouth is on mine as he desperately tries to push the life from his body into me, the air from his own lungs filling mine.

  "I won't let this happen. This will not happen, Gabriella—breathe, please!"

  He stays over me, not giving up, forcing his breath into me as he pushes the sea out of my body. I feel oddly detached, separate, as I watch the scene. I want to go back to the other place, the beautiful warm beach. The sunshine, the white sand, my body intertwined with his. Just let me go there now away from this pain.