December 2007

“What a small world,” Matilda recovered quickly, but not quite quick enough for Jim and Pam not to be completely confused.

“You knew my grandfather?” Jim questioned, dropping his fork onto his plate and leaning forward with great interest.

“Yes, I did,” she answered, fiddling with the edge of her napkin. “We grew up in the same town. He was a friend of your grandfather’s, Pam.”

“Really?” Pam exclaimed. “Woah, weird.”

“No, seriously,” Jim said. “Are you sure?”

Matilda looked at Jim. “Your grandmother’s name was Sofia, and I believe they named their first daughter Abigail. Is that your mother?”

“No, Abby’s my aunt,” Jim said leaning forward, excitement etched across his face. “My mom is Larissa.”

“Larissa,” Matilda said, tapping a finger against her lip. “She must have been born after I left for Europe and lost touch with James and Sofia.”

“This is too weird,” Pam said.

“That why I was taken aback when you first got here, Jim. You look a lot like him.”

“That’s what my grandmother tells me all the time,” he said, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I never actually met him, he died before I was born.”

She made a noncommittal noise and smiled faintly.

“This is too weird,” Pam said flailing her arms around frantically before pushing herself off the floor. “I’m going to the bathroom, and when I come back, I don’t want to be in Weird Town anymore.”

“Weird Town?” Jim called at her back as she wandered away. “Seriously, Pam? That’s the best you can come up with? This is unreal,” he said, turning his attention back to Matilda. “I’m not really sure what to say.”

“How is Sofia?” Matilda asked politely, busying her hands with gathering the trash off the table and stuffing it back into the takeout bag.

Jim hesitated, noting the subtle changes in Matilda’s tone and posture. There was a distance, a lukewarm detachment, that hadn’t been there moments before. “She’s doing okay. She had some health stuff lately, but she’s bouncing back.”

“That’s good to hear. If you’ll excuse me for a second, I need to use the ladies room.” Matilda fled as fast as she could, without making it abundantly clear that she was fleeing. The last thing she wanted to do was cause more alarm than she already had, raise more questions than she could already read written across the face of her niece and the man that was a link to a past she had spent the past sixty years distancing herself from.

She brushed past the bathroom she claimed to need to use and headed for dressing table, grabbing a slim silver plated cigarette case. She rarely smoked these days, the lectures from her doctors being more tedious than they were worth, but allowed herself the occasional indulgence.

Matilda stepped out onto the terrace and breathed in the city, drinking in the lights of her adopted home, focusing on the familiar view of the Hudson River, the sounds traffic briskly clipping through the streets below, the biting of chilly air over her skin—she hadn’t bothered to grab a jacket in her rush outside.

Anything to keep her from going back, anything to keep her firmly anchored in the present. She lit a cigarette with shaky hands and inhaled.

Fireflies and moonlight, bubbling water and crickets, warm hands through the cotton of a navy blue dress as they slowly swayed—

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the hand on her shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Pamela,” she said. She took another shaky drag of her cigarette. “When you scare me to death, maybe then you’ll learn to never sneak up on an old woman.”

“I called out to you a couple times,” Pam said, draping a coat over her aunt’s shoulders. “You must have been in another world.”

“Not another world,” she replied with a faint smile. “Another time.”

“Jim said you rushed off in a hurry,” Pam said, deflecting her own worries. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Matilda said. “I’m sorry, I’m just taken aback.”

“I know, what are the odds?” Pam murmured quietly. “How well did you know Jim’s grandfather?”

She said nothing for a moment, turning to look Pam in the eye. “You love him.”

“Who?” Pam asked, startled. “Jim? Of course I do. Love him, I mean.”

“Why?”

Pam laughed nervously. “What do you mean, why? I just…do. He’s great.” Her face fell at her aunt’s serious tone and expression. “Do you not like him or something?”

“No, nothing like that. He seems like a very nice boy. You should be able to answer that question, though. You loved Roy just because and look how that turned out.” Pam tensed next to her, and Matilda sighed. She leaned against Pam for a moment before turning to go inside. “I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed early.”

“Aunt Matilda,” Pam said, reaching for her hands. She could see now why Jim was so worried, worried enough to send her after her aunt. Something was definitely off. “Are you okay? Should we call your doctor or anything?”

“There is no cure for being eighty-two,” Matilda said with a half laugh. “I’m just decrepit and tire easily. Go take your gentleman out on the town.”

“We can just hang around,” Pam offered. “In case you need anything.”

“Please. There are much better things for two young kids like you two to be doing in this city than sitting around and listening to me snore. Go.”

After significant reluctance on both of their parts, Matilda managed to shuffle Jim and Pam out the door. And just as soon as she was alone, she wept.