A Hundred Years Ago

“But you don’t even like it here!”

That isn’t exactly true. But I do hate being away from home. My work, my son. I'm missing spring in New York City. Cherry blossoms, street fairs, my favorite outdoor cafes. Rooftop restaurants, lively city parks. It’s eerily quiet here.

“I can’t leave yet. You know that.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t take another day with you in this house.” My baby sister, Amber, now thirty-two, would have no clue what to do without me here. Miss melodramatic never moved past her teen phase, the whole world continues to revolve around her. Plus, she was Daddy’s little girl and now he’s gone. She’s frustrated because I expect her to pitch in.

Growing up, both our parents were pretty amazing, but mom was especially magical. A stunning woman, the kind people were mesmerized by. She loved life and dad. The night she found him lifeless on the kitchen floor, every ounce of spark drained out of her. At the moment, she’s curled up on the living room sofa in day three clothes and day five hair.

“I’m running to the store, text me what you need!” I blurt out quickly for whoever is listening. I run out the door, needing a break from the dismal situation.

I’ve been bunking in my old room. It hasn’t changed much since I left for college seventeen years ago. Tattered posters on the walls, old liquor bottles filled with dried flowers, ancient yearbooks. I love our farmhouse and all the memories it holds. The year dad bought six pygmy goats for mom’s birthday, the spring house that I convinced my friends was haunted. And so many bonfires. Now that dad isn’t around, it all feels empty, sad.

I was popular in high school, played tennis, and cheered. Voted biggest flirt in the year book. I spent a semester in France as a foreign exchange student. Mom and dad supported everything I set my sights on.

As much as mom loved dad, he loved her even more. He did everything for her, not that she was helpless. She was quite accomplished, actually. Strong, determined, warm, loving. I never thought she'd fall apart when his time came. I expected her to grieve, of course, but I don’t even recognize her.

When my husband Billy and I bought our home in Brooklyn years ago, my parents were heartbroken. Once our son Van started kindergarten this year, they finally accepted we wouldn’t be moving back. Billy and I have always been happy together, but lately, he’s withdrawn. He’s so closed up, I’m afraid what our future will be, or if we’ll even stay together. I haven’t had the heart to tell mom, and I’m not sure what to tell anyway. Maybe it’s just a rough patch.

Food Mart hasn’t changed a bit. It sits across the street from the ice rink where I used to spend Friday evenings skating and eating tubes of chocolate chip cookie dough with my friends. I make my way inside the store, grab a cart and begin stockpiling whatever looks good.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” I hear from behind me. I’m afraid to look. I’ve been here all of three minutes and have already been spotted.

I slowly spin around to see none other than Derek Stipe. Derek was the guy everyone knew and loved in high school. Not your typical jock, he had an edge. His family had less money and more struggles than most of the popular kids. He played guitar, snowboarded and was amazing at everything he did. A golden boy, minus money. Oh, and he was also my boyfriend. Before I know it, he has me in a bear hug and is lifting me off my feet. I haven’t been hugged like this in, well, a long time.

“Hannah Chamberlain!” He smiles in a way that feels like home, then quickly grows serious. “So sorry to hear about your dad, I really am.”

“Thanks Derek, it’s ok,” I haven’t figured out the right response to everyone’s awkward condolences, “I’m just grabbing some food then heading home. How have you been?”

“I’m great! Man, it’s good to see you! Hey, we’re heading to the Cellar for drinks at eight tonight. You should come out!”

“Um, yeah, maybe. I’ll have to check and see what my family is doing. OK, well, thanks for the invite, but I really need to run.”

“Yeah, no problem! Try to meet us out. Great seeing you, Hannah bear!”

I blush as I walk away. Why am I blushing? I’m a grown woman, a gallery director, a wife and a mom. I live in the greatest city on the east coast. And my high school boyfriend from a hundred years ago has me blushing? Pull it together, Hannah. As I make my way to the register, I begin thinking about all the time Derek and I had spent together. Singing in his beat-up VW Golf on the way to school, lingering on the bleachers after practice, and late-night antics on my front porch, whispering and laughing so hard we cried. I decide it’s good to see him too.

I am shocked to see mom sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea as I drag bags of groceries into the house. “You should have waited, mom, I would have made your tea and brought it to you.”

“Amber made it.” Another shock. “It’s too hot. I’m waiting for it to cool. Did you get my cookies? The black and whites?” Mom loves the black and whites a local baker makes because they remind her of me and NYC.

Is this the same woman who hasn’t peeled herself off the couch since the funeral? Twelve days since dad’s death, seven since the funeral. I don’t blame her, of course, it’s all still so fresh, but I hate seeing her this way. She has been practically incoherent. But this moment is a good one. She’s drinking voluntarily and asking for food. Maybe mom’s still in there after all.

“Of course I got your cookies. Two dozen, so you can freeze some. I also ran into Derek.”

There's a long pause. “I figured you would at some point. Small town and all.”

“I guess. Do you ever see him?”

Mom sighs, as if talking is a burden. “I do, now and then. He always asks about you.”

“You never told me.”

“Well, you had a new life. Your heart was so broken over him and I didn’t want to open that wound.”

“Mom. I was a kid. And it was so long ago.”

“Not that long. If you knew he was asking about you, well, I wasn’t sure what you’d do.”

“Hm. Well, I was thinking about going out for a drink with him. Not just him. A group of us. What do you think?”

“I think you should do what makes you happy, dear.” A pause, then, “Life is short.” This is something mom says often, now with new meaning.

Mom is right; I was heartbroken back then. The night we stood next to his car at the top of my driveway and he told me he wouldn’t be the reason I didn’t go to Columbia. We ended up getting in a huge fight and broke up. I left for Manhattan and never looked back. I was so hurt and angry. Over the years, I kept my visits home short and infrequent. I left everything behind the best I could, including Derek.

As I scan the bar, I notice familiar faces from high school. Geez, haven’t any of these people moved on? I wave and nod my way through the crowd, then spot Derek at a table in the corner. As I approach, he stands up and embraces me. A warm hug that I honestly don’t want to end. How could we fit so perfectly after all these years?

“Hannah!” A squeal from each of my old friends, Jennifer and Ashley, and a handshake across the table from Hunko, a variation of his last name that he reads way too much into. I slide into the vinyl bench next to Derek. Before I know it, drinks flow, glasses clink, unfiltered laughter spills out. Old stories are told, but funnier now, somehow, and hands fly through the air for effect. Nudges, high fives, and playful arguments about nothing at all. Music hums in the background, voices sing off key. Chaos – in the best sense. I momentarily forget about dad, my family, everything that is hard in my life right now.

The music is still in my head, even after leaving the bar. The chorus loops over and over and mixes with the sounds on the street. It’s just past eleven and once again, I find myself navigating the streets that marked my childhood, windows down, heading towards Derek’s house. We’re all going there to meet his new puppy. His sister answers the door, says her good-byes and darts out to her car. “Thanks for babysitting, little sis!” Derek stumbles slightly, then composes himself, catching my eye. Avoiding his gaze, I notice the crate under the dining room table with a tiny lab pup inside. His long silky ears, paws too large for his body, chocolate brown fur, and little damp nose. The door is wide open so I have a perfect view of his cozy sleeping space.

It’s then I noticed we are alone.

“They all decided to call it a night,” Derek reads my mind. I stand up and face him.

I begin recalling stories of lost love. Of couples who failed the first time around, then found their way back to each other years later. Those stories are never as romantic as you hope they'll be. I realize I didn't want that for myself. Standing in the dining room, I wonder what in the world I am doing here. I have a perfectly good love story with Billy. We just need to find a way back to the closeness we once shared.

“It was really nice hanging out with you Derek, but I should get back. Mom will be waiting up for me.” I smile, imagining mom reading her book and glancing at the clock every ten minutes, like she did when I was young.

“Just wait here a minute.” He slips out of the room and returns with a brown rectangular box tied with a simple white string.

“I never really explained why we broke up so many years ago. I did love you, Hannah. Part of me always will. But there was no future for us. You were destined to live in the city, to marry Billy, and be Van’s mom. I wasn’t the guy for you, even if you thought I was at the time. I love that we loved each other once. And I wish I had handled the break up better. You left thinking I didn’t care. But I did.” He hands me the box. I slowly take it and make my way to the sofa. I sit with it on my lap wondering what could be inside. I untie the string and lift the lid. It’s a book. Between Fireflies and First Kisses. By Derek Stipe.

I look up, bewildered.

“If we had stayed together, I would have gotten a job in a factory or somewhere equally unpleasant to support us, because college wasn’t in the cards for me, and I didn’t have any specific gifts that I knew of. I didn’t know how to make anything of myself. I was a mess. Everyone knew it, but you. I had it rough as a boy. My family struggled Hannah, more than you ever knew. All these years, I’ve worked odd jobs and I was fine with that. It gave me space to heal and figure out who I was. I managed to buy this house and fix it up myself.” He looked around, proudly. It was a charming house with a perfect blend of modern and softness. “It’s small, but it’s mine and it’s everything I ever wanted. I didn’t know if I could be a husband or a dad, be responsible for other human beings. I wouldn’t have known how to explain any of this to you back then." He pauses for a brief moment and continues, “After you left for college, I started writing,” a quiet smile tugs at his lips, “which I finally realized was my passion. I have so many stories bubbling up inside me. I got to do some cool things as a kid, but it was only because my friends’ parents paid for it all, which made me feel like a burden. I was filled with shame and it took a long time to work through. But I’m happy now. And this book is my tribute to us. To our youth. To the love you showed me. Most days, your hugs were the only ones I got. I loved our time together and now it can live forever in this book. I hope you’ll share it with Billy. There’s nothing in there for him to be jealous of. Just two kids, finding their way, and childhood memories. A hundred years ago, like you always say.”

As we hug good-bye on his front porch, filled with so many emotions, I realize it was never the romantic bits I remembered when I thought of Derek. It was the best friend I was fortunate enough to have. A hundred years ago.