Hello Goodbye

[Moratorium]

When the clock struck six and the clock tower began to chime, Charlie shoved the papers into the briefcase and began heading out. It was a long week at the firm, and Friday couldn’t arrive any sooner. “You got the case file ready for me?” Mr. Jimmy Bate’s voice stopped him before Charlie managed to reach the door. Just what he feared.


“No sir, I’ll get it to you on Monday. It’s almost done,” he replied, slowly edging his way to the exit.


“I told you the first day back that I expected the case report to be done by the end of the week. And you said it was fine when I first suggested it Charlie, so don’t you go back on your words now.”


Well, what was he supposed to say on Monday when Jimmy practically demanded the report to be done on Friday? He knew it wasn’t possible, but speak his mind would have resulted in a horrible Monday, hence rest of the week. “How about this, I’ll work on it tonight, and I’ll get it to you by tomorrow. Saturday. Come on Jim, I’m giving you my weekends for this, so cut me some slack.”


“Saturday it is then,” Jimmy pointed at him with his sausage like index finger, “If you can’t do it, I’m sure I can find plenty other fellows who are willing to do it for me.”


No one will do it for you, Charlie thought, cause no one like to be treated like a slave. And the only reason he’s still here is because he needs to pay the mortgage. The moment that’s done, Charlie was ready to ditch Jimmy by himself in this dingy little law firm.


Charlie waved a short good bye to Jimmy and stepped out into the warm sun of July. When he arrived home, he was surprised to find that Clementine has yet to come home. He eagerly changed out of his work cloth and put on a comfortable pair of sweat pants and t-shirt. He figured he should start the preparation for dinners, maybe get it ready before she comes back. What a surprise that will be! However, before he had even began, a phone call interrupted him. “Hello, who is this?”


“Hi, is this Mr. Charlie Lachance?”


“Yes, who’s speaking?”


“This is Nova Scotia Hospital, around 9PM last night, your mother has entered emergency due to sudden cardiac arrest, and unfortunately, we were unable to resuscitate her. It was shown on record that you are her son correct?”


The message came so suddenly that it took a while for Charlie to reaction. Nova Scotia? His mother lives in Alberta just couple hour from him. Who are they talking about?


“Hello?” the voice came from the other end, “Is this the son of Laura Lachance?”


When Charlie heard the name, he finally understood. His mother, his biological mother. Ever since he was put into a foster home, he has lost contact with her, In fact, he was so bitter that he never even tried. To Charlie, Laura was simply “that woman who abandoned him and her sister.” He barely even talked about her when Clementine asked, much less going to see her.


“Yes, this is, and?” he replied before the silence carried on for too long.


The answer he give was such a shock that there was a prolonged silence on the other end before it returned again, “We just thought you would like to know as you are her closest relatives.”


“Well that’s nice, thanks for telling me, you have a good day then,” Charlie hangs up before the voice on the end could protest.


Charlie paced around the room, feeling agitated. He was hit with a confusion mixture of feelings. Why now? He thought. He was living fine. He spent ten years getting over the fact that he was left by her mother, now just when he was living fine the woman thrust herself rudely through his life. What did she expect? Did she expect him to cry? To feel distressed by the news? She expected nothing, Charlie answered himself, she’s dead Charlie.


As he stood there reflecting his fact, the door opened and Clementine stepped in. The feeling left over from the phone call still remained on his face as Clementine asked, “What’s wrong? Something happen at work?”


Charlie cleared his expression and smiled back, “No, nothing.” He’s not going to Nova Scotia, he told himself, this is his life now in Alberta. Laura Lachance has no place here. “Just wondering what we should have for dinner.”

--------------

​

After dinner, Charlie spent rest of the evening finishing up the case as he promised. The thoughts of Laura still lingered but he manage to distract himself each time by the words on the case. By the time he was done, Clementine had already gone upstairs to bed. He closed the cover of his laptop and tiptoed himself up the stairs. He stopped however, when he noticed there was light in the bedroom. He opened the door to see her sitting in the bed peacefully reading a book. “Still up?”


She put the book down and smiled at him, “Yes, all finished?”


“Yeah. Remind me next time to start finding a new job,” he walked over and give her a soft kiss on the forehead.


She kissed him back on the lips, then held his face close to hers. “There’s something I want to tell you Charlie. I didn’t want to tell you before because you were busy and I didn’t want to distract you.”


“What is it dear?” He sat down besides her holding her hands in his.


“Hold on, let me show you.” She got up form the bed and walked over to her handbag in the study room. She returned later with a folded piece of paper in her hand. “I went to see my doctor today, because I wasn’t feeling to well. He did some blood work and I just wanted to show you the result.”


She handed him he paper to see. He unfolded it and scanned the paper. There were numerous categories with numbers assigned to them. However, he wasn’t sure what it all meant. “What is –,” he stopped short when he saw it. In a single line written on the bottom of the numbers is a phrase that Charlie knew was what Clementine wanted him to see. Pregnancy test positive, it printed.


He puts the paper down and look up to her then back at the paper. Slowly, an anxiety developed within him, and he found himself speechless. “You don’t look so happy,” Clementine furrowed her eyebrows, “I thought we both wanted this.”


“I am happy,” Charlie forced himself to a smile, he wasn’t sure what he really felt. He pulled Clementine down beside him and held her tight, “I am happy. This is great news. You are going to be mother, and I’m…” He paused then. Through his life, Charlie had never saw his real father. He had no idea why , and Laura never spoke of him. Yet it was strange to think that within Charlie, there is a component of that man, that stranger. He’ll be a father, but what type of father? He closed his eyes and sighed. “There is something I have to tell you too dear,” he puts his forehead against hers and breathed slowly.


You can’t escape the past, the phrase rang through his head. You can’t escape from mother.

 

[portabello]

She sits amid a pile of clothes, scattered around her pink princess-y bedroom, the wallpapers that she has long out-grown. Her suitcase is spread open. She is wondering what to pack, what not to pack. A dilemma.


Beep, her phone vibrated softly, but annoyingly. The screen flashed to life. It’s her friend Amber, wishing her a fun trip and sending hugs and kisses. She’s been getting texts and messages all morning from her friends, classmates, and people who she knows less well, sending her off, hoping she has a safe flight, reminding her to call if anything urgent happens, you name it. She would text back, feigning enthusiasm, tagging a falsely happy smiley face. Why do they all know where she is going, dammit? It must be social media. She reminds herself that she was the one who posted a selfie of her self, #offtonovascotiaforaweek. Okay Zoe, looks like you got yourself into this one, she thought. But sometimes she just wants the world to shut up. Or even if the world doesn’t shut up, she wants to not hear what everyone else is saying, crawl into a bubble and be by herself for a while.


Well, I am going to Nova Scotia, it will be a fun trip, I’m sure, she reassures herself. She tries to be optimistic, that’s her virtue. But of course the dark angel’s always perched on her opposite shoulder, whispering the truth into her ears. Your mother is dead, Zoe. She’s dead.


It’s not like it’s her real mother. Well, it is her real mother. But it’s not her real, real mother, if you know what I mean. Her real, unbiological mother is downstairs, whipping up her favourite breakfast, French toast with bananas and strawberries and a cup of cappuccino on the side. She would walk up the stairs with the softest footsteps and knock on Zoe’s door to tell her that breakfast is ready, or to remind her to be ready for school. She was the one who stayed by her side, every step of the way. And that is what makes this absurdly confusing.


Zoe is an intelligent girl, with impeccable fashion sense. That is why she has the top marks in school, and why she is the most popular (or at least what she would like to believe.) Also that is why a 16-year-old like she would know the meaning of the word absurd, which is exactly what she would use to describe the freak of a situation she is in. It’s as if a bird flying in the sky took a gigantic dump and she is swimming in it, having had no clue that the bird – or the sky for that matter - existed in the first place.


(Of course she didn’t tell her friends a thing, not even her best friend. There are things you talk with friends – when you get your period, who you think the cutest and hottest boys are, who has a crush on you at the moment, who you have a crush on – but the fact that you are going to Nova Scotia to meet a dead biological mother that you don’t even remember the face of, does not count as one of these things.)


This gigantic turd of a situation began that fateful afternoon when she was walking home from school, alongside Amber. It was Friday afternoon, her favourite afternoon of the entire week. They had grand plans for the evening! First they are coming over to Zoe’s house, then they will pamper themselves and chitchat and gossip in preparation for the biggest party of the year at their friend Michelle’s house. Everyone will be there! Even her crush, Evan. She blushes at that thought, thinking back on it now, but forced herself to snap out of it. That party isn’t going to happen no more, dummy.


The phone rang as they walked. At first she didn’t hear it. Zoe turned her cell phone always to silent. Of all the phone calls she’d ever received, half were good news, half were bad news. And she thought that if she had half the chance of getting bad news, she’d rather not pick up the phone at all. Of course Amber wouldn’t let her off the hook and made her pick up the call, “Just in case it’s your hottie Evan calling.” Zoe rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah,” and blushed, resigning to the faintest possibility that it could be Evan, the hottest boy in her class, the one who sat in front of her, stretching out his muscular, tanned arms, the one she surely was destined to date and make out with in the back of a movie theatre. So she picked up.


As it turns out, a phone confession with Evan was not meant to be.


On the other end of the phone line was her foster mother’s voice, soft and warm as usual, with a sad undertone, telling her the truth and only the truth. And that is that her biological mother is dead, in a hospital in Nova Scotia.


Zoe didn’t know how to react. She had no idea what to feel. Her biological mother is like a shadow of a woman, a woman she never see, only heard of, never knew, only knew of, and woman who disappeared before she ever presented herself to her. Is Zoe supposed to be sad? She didn’t feel sad but she felt guilty that she didn’t. So she told Amber to go on without her, and maybe she would meet her at the party. Amber looked at her, perplexed, knowing that Zoe would never miss a party for the world, but she leaved her be.


Zoe walked home, not knowing what to make of the situation. Maybe she should’ve went to the party after all. Nah, not knowing that she had a dead mother, that didn’t sit well with her, even if her dead mother is someone she didn’t know at all.


She suddenly thought of Charlie. Charlie is the only human link that she knows of between her and this mysterious woman. You know, the Charlie who used to hold her hand while walking to her elementary school. The Charlie who read her fairytale stories and tucked her into bed. At least that was what she remembered of Charlie, her big brother and her favourite person for a long, long time. But the Charlie in her mind was from 10 years ago, back when she was still a baby. Over time, they drifted apart. She still remember the day when they were at the airport, her mom (her unbiological real mother of course) and her on one side, Charlie on the other, with his suitcases in hand. She was crying because she didn’t want him to go, she didn’t want to not see him ever again. And in a sense, even in the mental state of a 6 year old, she was right. They barely seen each other since then. Maybe a few email exchanges every now and then. She knew some facts about his life, that he has a job, and a house, and a wife, but that was it. He was in a mysterious bubble that was far, far away, not part of her life any more.


Maybe he would be going to Nova Scotia for her funeral. Zoe’s brain rang with possibilities. Excitement ran through her veins! A trip! With her favourite brother! A brotherly-sisterly reunion after 10 years of separation! (Even if he wasn't there, it would be a fun solo trip on her own, that's the type of thing she knows she would enjoy anyway.) Then she remembered that it was for her dead mother, oops.


It was in this absurdly disastrously confusing premise that now leaves her amid piles of clothes in her pink princess-y bedroom, wondering what to pack and what to leave out.

 

[Moratorium]

Charlie stretched as he exited the plane, such a relief after a long ride. He looked to his wrist watch and adjusted it accordingly to the new time zone then looked around the airport for a ride out. It wasn’t easy convincing Jimmy that he needed this vacation, but Jimmy didn’t really have a choice. Both of them knew that Charlie was the only reasonable employee that Jimmy will ever get with his attitude, and Charlie is taking full advantage of this fact. He didn’t pack much for the trip, some clothes and his wallet. He figured he’ll deal with the rest once he came over. He booked a decent Delta hotel for the night, and for as many nights as needed. That’s the one thing that bugged Jimmy the most, the uncertainty of time for this trip. He’ll make sure to grab a souvenir for Jimmy to soften the blow of his words later on.


Charlie never have a habit of buying souvenirs, it was a habit that he remembered Laura used to have. Now that they are separated, he tried hard to avoid doing anything to remind him of her. However, he still remembers those late Saturday mornings, when she’ll walk into his bedroom and nudge him up. “Let’s go for a ride,” Laura used to say, “And bring your sister with us.”


He’d whine and grumble about missing school work, but they are all meaningless to Laura’s ears. She wasn’t the type of woman to be dissuaded against, and she definitely despised being trapped inside her house on a weekend. She’d flick his nose when they are in disagreement, an act he found embarrassing in front of his friends. “Grab your swim trunks and some towels. We are going to the beach.”


“We just went to the beach last weekend!” He protested.


“Then we’ll go camping. Grab your gear.”


He’d sigh, but followed orders only because he kind of enjoyed camping. He cooperated with little enthusiasm as Laura made the preparations for baby Zoe. He’d always be ready a few minutes earlier than Laura, who would be upstairs doing her make up. It always seemed strange to Charlie how much she cared for her looks, and the hundreds of make-up accessory she had in her room. He used to ask her to put make-up on him, and she’d play along for hours like a child herself. When he grew older, the matter became a matter of teasing. There always seem to be a battle going on between him and Laura, a battle for his teenage dignity.


When Laura is ready, he’d drag his feet into the car with her on the passenger side. Laura wasn’t a woman with a plan. She’s survived through spontaneity and will. The three of them would be driving with their trailer for hours on end before she’ll finally say, “This is it!” as if she planned it all along. The matter of truth is, Charlie had no idea where they’ll be or why for that matter. They’ll pull into the campground and make use of the first available site. Laura would toss Charlie the tent for him to pitch, while she and baby Zoe would stay in the trailer. Charlie had requested to pitch his own tent and stay outside right after elementary school. Laura tried to convince him initially, but Charlie shared some of Laura’s stubborn genes.


If they manage to get the fire started, they’d spent the evening roasting hotdogs and marshmallows. Otherwise, Laura will drive them to the nearest fast food and they’d fill themselves up with burgers. Laura would always finish eating before he does, and feed Zoe with the milk bottles to wait for Charlie. When they had their fill, they climb on top of their trailer and stare out at the skies. Laura was a beautiful woman, and even the night cannot hide that fact. Her long wavy blond hair tied in the back, showing smooth oval face. Her blue eyes glistened like the stars in the sky, and her lips would always curve when she looked at you as if her smile was meant just for you. When the night becomes chilly, Laura would return to the trailer with Zoe, and Charlie stubbornly would choose to sleep in the tent. However, no matter how many nights he’d choose to sleep in the tent, he would always wake up in the trailer when morning comes. Wrapped by Laura’s arms, Charlie would tuck his head under her chin.


They’d always stop by a souvenir shop on the way back, where Laura would buy a souvenir that would prove to be no use later on. “Why do you always buy them when we just keep them in a box?” Charlie always asked.


“So we can open the box one day and relive all the memories,” Laura would tell him as she looked from one trinket to another.


“But they all looked the same, how can I even tell one from the other?”


“Then maybe you should label them so we’ll remember them?” Laura smiled at him and petted Charlie on his head.


Charlie put the idea in the back of his head then, perhaps a project he’ll do on one of these mundane weekends when they are trapped by the rain. However, he never had the chance to do it in the end. The joy that Laura brought to his life was soon taken when she left. It was a goodbye with no words or explanations, and he found himself alone with a family of strangers. Frustrated, confused, and ultimately sad, Charlie tried to grab and hold on to any memory he had shared with her. But the memories burnt his heart like wild fire. Every smile she give, every words she spoke, every movement she took became fuel for it. By the end, all that’s left is…


Broken dreams.


If Laura was displeased with him, he had wanted her to say it. If Laura was hurt, he had wanted her to share it. He just wanted her to say anything, give him any reason that he can come to term with. Even the stupidest reason would be enough cause he’d miss her so much that he’d accept it. He would accept it was his fault, so that she would still be perfect. Goddamn it, he just wanted a mother who loved him, and he just wanted to be a son. He wanted someone to chide him when he did something wrong, and someone who lectured him when he got into a fight in school. At least that means someone cared. He just wanted to be a kid. He just wanted to tell her that he wanted to go on one of those trips. The countless night where he slept and he wished that he’d be woken up by her. To go anywhere, to any place. He wanted hope. Unfairly, she left none, and he was left asking himself why. Years later, he simply gave up asking and Laura had just become a woman.


He massaged the bridge of his nose, to stop himself from continuing to think and look for the exit. This is neither the place nor the time for this. He managed to find the pick-up area of the airport, and waved his hand to stop a nearby taxi.

 

[portabello]

She sits on the plane. She has the window seat, lucky her, her favourite. But still, she could not calm her nerves that are beginning to get to her. People are still rushing in, looking for their seats, chattering, finding a place in the overhead luggage bins to store their bags. It’s all too much, noise and all, compounded with the fact that they are going to be up in the air any minute. She feels her breath quicken. She closed her eyes. As enthusiastic as she had been about going on this solo trip, she had forgotten until the moment she stepped into the airport that she absolutely hated one thing in the world, and that is flying. There’s that claustrophobic feeling of being stuck like pieces of sardines in a can, helplessly being thrust into the air, on a thingamabob that might crash and fall at any moment.


She sinks her hand into her pocket and feels the curvature of a familiar pill bottle, something that her foster mother Jacqueline gave her before she left in the early morning.


Jacqueline is great. She isn’t at all clingy or overly protective like Amber’s mother, or many other mothers out there (or at least what her 16-year-old mind can imagine). This is a big step for Zoe, her first solo trip. Sure, she had gone on road trips with friends, even with Charlie when she was small. But this was the first time that Zoe is going somewhere far on her own. Zoe had no doubt that she was up for this, she had always been an independent kind, she is street smart, not at all afraid of talking to strangers, but knowing which strangers she can talk to, which ones she can befriend, and which ones she should avoid all together. Besides, it would be the perfect time to go somewhere. It is right after end-of-term exams, but before summer vacation officially starts. Usually Zoe would be keen about classes, but everyone - even she - has their heads in vacation mode now. She was confident, but a teensy bit nervous that her mom (her foster mom of course, not stranger mom) would be against it, if only because she had heard from Amber and so many of her other friends’ experiences with their own mothers, who were always so restricting.


But when Zoe confronted her mom about it, she wasn’t met with resistance, but rather a startled look followed by a soft smile. “You grow up so quickly,” Jacqueline said, shaking her head and reaching for Zoe’s hand over their small dining table. “One day you will spread your wings and fly, just like our little Charlie.” Zoe couldn’t help but feel goosebumps at her mom’s comment – that was what Jacqueline was great at, provoking goosebumps with her cheesy little sayings. Zoe was sure that she wasn’t the same way, she was not at all cheesy, and in fact the opposite of. That was one thing that made her certain, early on in life, that she and Jacqueline weren’t related by blood at all.


Jacqueline had lent Zoe a bottle of her go-to prescription tranquilizer – she said the name of a drug that Zoe could never remember, never mind pronounce. “Just in case you get a little bit anxious on the plane,” Jacqueline said, because she knew Zoe and her fear of flying so well, maybe even better than Zoe herself.


But now as Zoe sat in the window seat of row 39 in the economy car, she is reassured that she had resigned to taking that bottle of little round white tablets with her. Even though I am never ever going to use it, she thinks. She doesn’t fancy being addicted to anything. (Well, that is, except for her growing infatuation of Evan, whom she still blushes at the thought of, which provides a periodic distraction from the little voice in her ear telling her that she is going to crash and burn on this flight.)


A sound ruffles beside her, she feels a warm bodily presence sink into the adjacent seat. (Yes, she knows the meaning of adjacent.) The scent of manly perfume – no, cologne – fills her nose, like the smell of fresh pine trees on a mountain range. She wrinkles her nose. Oh crap, she is allergic.


Her eyes snap open. A gentleman, seemingly tall and wide, fills the seat beside her. He is wears a broad, black long trench coat and one of those unique whatchamacallit hats – those that Englishmen or detectives wore, as far as Zoe knows. His eyes are a deep grey tone, slim and sharp, handsome yet unforgiving.


Zoe knows people well, she can instantly read them without even talking to them. Each person gives her a vibe, from the way they dress to the way they make eye contact. She groups people into three distinct categories – people who are kind and who she will want to befriend, people who are impure and those she will want to avoid, and people who are somewhat in between, their past long and complex and hurtful enough that not all of it is on their face to read, so that their eyes are just half as kind, overcome with tiredness and resignation, but refusing to become evil. She doesn’t know what to do with this third category of people. Because of this, she just lets them be, not bothering them, only speaking when spoken to. This gentleman is in this third category.


She spends the rest of the flight with her nerves and muscles clenched up, a discomforting silence between her and her neighbor. Of course, she is also a gazillion feet in the air, which also scares the crap out of her. She touches the pill bottle in her hand, the pure action of which comforts and reassures her. And she thinks of the small, faintest possibility that she will see Charlie again, which always brings a smile onto her face.


Like this, she survives the 6-hour non-stop flight from Vancouver to Halifax, not sleeping a blink.


---


The plane has landed, safely. Thank god. She holds her breath as the announcements commenced. “The current weather in Nova Scotia is cloudy with a hint of rain, a high of 20 degrees. Please take all your bags and belongings with you as you disembark the flight…”


Zoe follows the crowd, her legs achy and her arms stiff, dragging the luggage behind her. She waits in line for the customs, thank god she doesn’t have any checked in luggage. In her sweats and t-shirt (comfy airplane clothes, clothes that she would only wear to the airplane or in the house), she feels very un-sexy. She is thankful that Evan isn’t here (knock on wood that she won’t bump into him.)


She runs through her head what she should do. She had made an itinerary for this first day, with Jacqueline’s help. They had looked through hotel and hostel listings together and picked an option that was safe, convenient and affordable. Jacqueline as a single mother didn’t have much money to spare, and Zoe’s part-time job at the neighbourhood burger joint didn’t bring in a substantial income. So affordability was an important factor.


Zoe pulls out a print out of the directions to the Good Dream Hostel. (What a name, she thinks. Someone must have felt uninspired and decided, heck, just anything would do.) First she will have to catch a taxi. She wonders towards the taxi pick-up area.


Cars honking. The sound of sudden traffic prompts her to unglue her eyes from the sheet of paper in front of her. She freezes for a moment. For a moment she cannot believe her eyes.


Standing in front of her is someone unmistakably familiar, even though she can only see him from the back. His tall, slim figure dressed in a sleek and stylish two-piece suit. Short blond hair grazes the back of his neck. It can’t be, she thinks. But it is. Delight and joy filled her chest. She responds to this with pure instinct, like she did many times before as a kid.


She charged towards Charlie and jumps into him with open arms. Her luggage abandoned behind her.

 

[Moratorium]

As Charlie began walking towards the stopped taxi, he felt a sudden bump into his side and was knocked almost over. He saw the source of the impact to be a petite girl with platinum blonde hair in a bob haircut style. She looked to be about mid-teens, as told partly from her looks and from her manner of clothing. Charlie was confused as to who she was, and certainly doesn’t expect anyone to greet him on this side of the country.


He puts his luggage down and pushed her back from him in reflex. “Sorry, have we met before?” He asked in confusion, and glanced around to see if any adults accompanied the girl. Seeing none, he glanced back at the girl.

 

[portabello]

Her eyes grew wide, she certainly didn't expect this. She pulled back and studied his face. The same blue eyes, except more weary and aged by experience, dark circles underneath and tiny hints of crow's feet at the outer corners. His hair still blonde, same length, now speckled with strands of grey.


"Oh." She suddenly feels self-conscious. Aware of every inch of her body. "It's me." She catches his eyes and then looks away. "Ok, you don't have to remember."


Well, this is awkward.

 

[Moratorium]

She was taken aback from his comment, and this surprised him. It appears as if he had made the mistake of not recognizing her. He thought hard as he looked upon her face, re-examining her feature once again. Then a small faint idea came to him. It was the eyes that give him the clue, the same pale blue eyes as Laura and of course his. There is only one other individual he knows that share the same eyes.


"Zoe?" He said it softly at first, still unsure of himself. Then he repeated, this time with more confidence. "Zoe!"


Of course, it makes sense. She would have been informed of the news too. But to think she came here by herself caught him off guard. Then again, he hadn't seen her for ten years, he doubt he would have recognized her on the street if she hadn't came to him first. "You grown quite a bit, I couldn't recognize you when I first saw you," he tried to converse past the awkwardness. "Did you came here to..." He trailed off, not sure how to end it.

 

[portabello]

“Yea… yeah,” Zoe mumbles, hoping that this suffices as an answer to his question. She can’t bring herself to say what she thinks she should be saying, and she is uncertain why – maybe because she never felt like this stranger lady was her mother, maybe because she suspects Charlie to be closer to her and doesn’t want to violate their relationship by saying anything outright.


She feels suddenly shy. This is preposterous! Zoe is never shy, not even with strangers or people that she hasn’t seen for a long time. Not even with cute boys like Charlie (she’s forgotten how cute he is). Shut up, she thinks. He’s old! And he’s your brother, dummy!


She can feel herself blush. Ah! He can see through my face! He knows what I’m thinking!


It’s not as if she didn’t have anything to say to him. In fact, she has lots to say. Throughout the milestones in her life, every time she hits an obstacle and overcomes it, every time she accomplishes something to make herself proud, she would make a mental note to tell Charlie. Like the time she lost her Barbie – the one that Charlie bought her – when she was in the fourth grade –


“I lost the Barbie that you gave me!” Zoe blurts out, “And then when I found it again, I gave it to my friend who had no Barbies, because she liked it more than me anyway. And then I went to junior high, and I met a lot of great friends who I loved very much. We went to the mall together and watched movies on Tuesdays because it was cheap. Boys asked me to the dance and gave me roses! I didn’t like them though, except one. And then I got my period, which really sucks. You’re very lucky that you don’t get periods! Then I started high school and met my best friend Amber. She lives next to me and we go to parties together. We’re the popular girls in school! And umm…”


Oops, now she’s blabbing too much, a reflexive behavior triggered by a mishmash of social anxiety and awkwardness, like when she is with a boy that she likes. Ah! Not with Charlie, Evan is the one.


I wish you were here, is what she meant to say.

 

[Moratorium]

Zoe's reaction to Charlie's reply seemed strange to him, as if she's unsure of herself all of a sudden. There was a brief silence just a few second too long after she mumbled her reply. He waited patiently for her to catch her thoughts as he pondered what to say to her. It has been a while since Charlie made any contact with Zoe. Last time they spoke was when she came with Jacqueline to his wedding. Despite the fact they were siblings, Charlie had always been reserved towards Zoe. After all, Zoe was born when Laura met a boyfriend that Charlie wasn't too fond of.


Laura had always served as the bridge between Charlie and Zoe. Therefore, when Laura left and he moved in together with Zoe into Jacqueline's family, he tried hard to play the role of a good big brother. However, without Laura connecting the two, Charlie had always find the responsibility difficult. It wasn't that he didn't like Zoe, but rather he just didn't know what to do. He had just lost his loved one, and now to learn to reconnect with another was just too much for him. By the time he was eighteen, he was more than ready to leave everything behind. Now ten years later, he still really wasn't sure how to act.


The Zoe in front of him just seemed like another high schooler he'd bump into on his way to work. What would matter in their life right now? Gossips? Boys? Make-up? High school had been such a turmoil for him that he remembered little of it. When everyone went to the dance, he stayed at home trying to study his way into an out of province university. He succeeded in the end, but give up his teenage dream in return.


When Zoe spoke, it was a long series of events, one following the other. Charlie tried to catch what he could but when she's done "It's good you found that Barbie doll," was all that he managed to say. You idiot, he thought to himself, after all that, Barbie was the only thing you could think of? "I'm glad you are doing well with everything," he added it after to try to compensate. Another awkward silence passed, "Well how's Jacqueline doing?"


Great, traveling hundreds of kilometer to the East coast just so he could ask about Jacqueline. There's something he needs to do, and he should get on it. "You know, nevermind, " he retracted the question before she could answer, "We can talk about that later." I'm just getting a taxi to my hotel right now. Where are you staying?"

 

[portabello]

Jacqueline is doing well, Zoe is about to say. She misses you and she gave me something to give you, just in case I see you here. But before she could reply, Charlie talks on.


Zoe thinks his reply seems cold and unattached, and his lack of sentiment stings. Well, it isn’t as if he ever was a particularly warm person.


Zoe doesn’t remember much of her times spent with Charlie. She doesn’t remember the words he said or exactly the things he did. She just remembered the aura about him. (Aura as in, your gut feeling about a person when you see them again.) Charlie’s aura was quiet and calm, like still waters in the middle of a forest. When Zoe was small, there were times when he disappeared and she couldn’t find him. (Of course, he would always come back after.) He was always warm on the inside though, Zoe knew that. She would run into his arms and he would always catch her. When she pulls on his sleeve and asks him to play, he would put down what he was doing and play with her. When she was too young to read, she would bring him a book and he would read it out loud to her while she crawls onto his lap.


Maybe it just takes some time for him to warm up to me, Zoe thinks. She has forgotten that he is that sort of person.


Wait! He just invited you to stay with him, dummy!


“Yes! I’ll come with you!” After the words slid out of her mouth, she realized that wasn’t what he was asking at all. Oops. “Oh, umm I mean, I booked a place called Good Dream Hostel but it looks really sketchy and it’s out of the way and I’m scared of staying by myself in a city that I’m not familiar with and…”


She can feel her face flush so she looks down and avoids eye contact. Did she just invite herself into a cute boy’s hotel room? Charlie’s not a boy anymore, he’s an older man! That thought sends goosebumps and quivers down Zoe’s spine. But I’m not that type of girl, she thinks. (Shut up! He is my brother, my brother of all people.)


At that moment, she wishes there was a redo button in life where you can rewind the last few minutes (which seems like an eternity to her) and do it all over again, knowing exactly what to say and what not to say.

 

[Moratorium]

Charlie was confused by Zoe's initial answer to his question, and raised his eyebrow. However, she quickly corrected her answer and he nodded, "Good Dream Hostel..." He repeated the name to himself. Last time he stayed at a placed called Good Dream Hostel was during a Thailand trip with some of his senior classmates, and he was certain that no good dream came out from it. "Well, I'm not quite sure where this hostel is, but I booked a place in downtown, beside the hospital. If you want, I can call in to book another room since I'm sure they aren't filled in this season. It might be more convenient since we are goth going to go to the hospital right?" Charlie offered. He figured it might also make Jacqueline more comforted to know that Zoe is not out there staying alone at some hostel.


He looked to Zoe, who had her head down since her reply. She seems to be brooding quite a bit, and Charlie wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he didn't recognize her, he thought to himself. He did feel bad for it, and hope to make it up during the trip somehow. Maybe treat Zoe to some restaurant, since the seafood here should be pretty good. Guess the budget for this trip has just doubled.

 

[portabello]

Charlie’s reply is measured, calm and mature. Zoe feels her tense, clenched muscles relax when she realizes that this aspect of him is the same as before.


“Oh, okay! Sure! Thank you very much!” She blurts out. Then a guilty feeling sinks in, as it always does when someone (even when it’s a friend, or in this case, a cute brother) offers to pay. “As long as it’s not too expensive! I can pay you back for it.”


She catches the sight of a yellow cab, and waves her arm to catch the attention of the driver.