The Story Begins (23 page)

“I know, honey, but since I decided to come here straight from work, rather than lounge around while you were still out, I thought I’d help you clean up a bit. Go on up, this won’t take long,” her mother said, her voice trailing off the farther down she went.

“Okay. Gracias Mama,” Lydia shouted before she and Cassandra continued up the stairs.

“De nada, mi amor,” her mother said softly, smiling as she traveled down the last flight of stairs leading into the basement.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” Cassandra called out while walking to the door, intending to look through the peephole.

“It’s Mommy!” Lydia’s mom answered.

Cassandra let her in.

“Thank you, sweetie. Good thing you girls came along when you did. I didn’t realize that I had left my key inside when I stepped out.”

LATER
THAT EVENING: Lydia set the phone down then leaned back in the chair.

“So what times are the last showings?” her mother asked.

“There’s a 21:45 and then 22:15 showing of-” she didn’t get to finish; Cassandra abruptly made an announcement.

“I met someone!” Cassandra, sitting next to Lydia’s mom and nervously clutching a cushion, suddenly blurted out.

“What?” Lydia said, with shock and disbelief in her voice.

“I met someone,” Cassandra repeated meekly, avoiding Lydia’s eyes and looking over to her mom who, unlike Lydia, was smiling, happy that Cassandra found herself in that which bore semblance to a fledgling relationship.

Lydia, however, was in shock. “I heard you the first time!” she said harshly. She was livid. “So you did have reason to ask what you asked earlier in the car!” she said petulantly. She rose, went to the bathroom and locked herself in.

Cassandra became even more nervous. They had never fought or disagreed over anything, even as children. She was lost and not at all sure how she might manage the plight that had so suddenly come upon her. Her eyes swelled with tears then began streaming down her face.

“What’s happening, Mommy?” Cassandra asked Lydia’s mom, her voice quavering.

Lydia’s mother comforted her; she held her close and assured her that all would soon be well again. Cassandra went to the bathroom and knocked on the door. Lydia refused to acknowledge the gesture, opting to remain silent.

“Lydia, please come out,’ she entreated while sobbing, causing her speech to be barely understandable. Lydia remained recalcitrant.

“Here, my dear,” said Lydia’s mother, taking Cassandra by the hand and leading her back to the sofa, “I’ll talk to her.”

Penelope went to the bathroom and knocked. “Lydia, come out, sweetie. We all need to have a talk. I know that you’re upset but everything will be fine, I promise,” she coaxed.

Still was Lydia intractable. “No, I’m not coming out. That’s not nice of her. I will not come out,” she objected in a manner reminiscent of a displeased child, for the innocence with which she still regarded the world was unconcealed in her voice.

“Sweetie, please come out. If it were you who met someone first, would you be happy if Cassandra carried on as you are now?”

There was silence.

“Well?” said her mom, waiting.

“I’m thinking, Mommy,” she said, her tone very much that which may be expected of a pouting child.

Her mother smiled. How dearly she loved them. Even though they had grown up and gone off to college, she still saw in them the sweet and naïve little girls of yesteryear. They, for all intents and purposes, still did have the same naiveté now that was theirs when they were five.

Then the bathroom door unlocked but did not open.

“No, sweetie, Cassandra is not going to come to you; rather you’re going to come out here. No one is at fault here, love,” her mother said softly.

Lydia finally came out.

Penelope then sat both girls on the sofa and seated herself opposite them on the loveseat. She explained to her beloved girls that Lydia reacted as she had for she recognized the implications this would have on the bond shared by the twain. She then explained to Cassandra that because the pair had been inseparable always, Lydia now found herself having to contend with inevitable changes. Such is the circle of life and, had the shoe been on the other foot, perhaps Cassandra, too, might have reacted similarly.

She promised them that theirs would always be a bond that transcended human emotions and was near, if not in fact, divine. The time they had always shared and taken for granted would always be there, only now it would be meted an appropriate measure where due. She explained that though the girls may consider seeing less of one other as a peril to their remarkable friendship, in time they would come to learn that though changes occur in life, they don’t all convey messages or omens portending doom.

Lydia was prompt to register her complaint subsequent to her mother endeavoring to assuage their fears. “I don’t like that!” she said.

Cassandra seconded the sentiment. “Neither do I,” she said, only she had a caveat, “but I think I might like him.”

“No you don’t!” remonstrated Lydia, turning to face her as though to underscore her words with a cold stare.

Cassandra acquiesced. “Okay, I don’t,” she said docilely, trying not to cry.

“Have either of you heard any of what I just finished explaining?” asked Penelope, puffing as she let herself fall against the back of her seat. “Girls! Sweethearts! This is a part of life. You may not know it now or even understand it just yet, but to try and stop nature from taking its course would make you both very unhappy sooner or later. Do you cherish your friendship?” Not that the answer was a secret.

“Of course we do. You know that we do, Mommy,” said Cassandra, her intonation and mannerism that of a child come of age, just awakening to, and quite befuddled by, life and the ways of the world.

“Yes, of course I do, sweetie. Now tell me, Lydia, if your father and I, and Cassandra’s mommy and daddy as well, had chosen to always just be with our friends and had never met each other and gotten married, what do you suppose would have been of your friendship now, sweetheart?”

“Well, we wouldn’t be here so it couldn’t have been,” Lydia replied, with a facial expression that seemed to indicate that such an answer could not have been any more obvious.

Seeing her expression her mother smiled. “So are you happy that your mommies and daddies did not just hang out with our own friends, but instead chose to meet then get married and so brought you both into the world?” she asked, pleased that she could appeal to both the rational and emotional aspects of their respective personalities.

“Yes,” said Lydia.

“Would it not be even more wonderful if you two were to have children and they became as close as you two are?” Penelope asked, believing that she was succeeding in convincing the girls, more so Lydia, to see reason.

“That would really be wonderful,” Cassandra said excitedly while she still sought to stifle the urge to cry.

“Yes, that would be the best!” Lydia agreed. “Okay, I forgive you, Cassandra,” she said, taking her darling friend by the hand.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry. I really am.”

Both girls began to cry.

Maybe I haven’t quite gotten my point across just yet, thought Penelope; she was patient and understanding but thought perhaps she need be a little firmer. “Lydia, you’re being stubborn!” she said. “There isn’t anything to forgive. Cassandra has done you no wrong, love. And Cassandra, there isn’t anything to apologize for. Okay, angels?”

“Okay. I’m sorry for making you feel bad, Cassandra,” apologized Lydia.

“And I’m sorry for…” Cassandra started. The forthcoming apology was to remain unfinished for the look Penelope cast Cassandra effectively made the latter forego that which would have been an apology unfounded. Lydia conceded. They hugged.

Penelope smiled. She thought of her sweet girls and their greater circle of friends. As children and even unto adulthood, they had always shared the same friends, some of whom dated, yet that had never affected the girls in the least. Though Penelope couldn’t even begin to fathom the bond shared by the twain, she couldn’t have been any more certain that it was one unparalleled, the strength of which had never been, possibly could never be, extended beyond the pair to anyone else. She understood that such an extraordinary affinity was that which had impelled Lydia to react as she had; jealousy, she knew, is quite natural, its measure proportional to the measure accorded to the affinity attached. Such was also the reason Cassandra had no qualms about foregoing he who might yet prove to be the love of her life so that Lydia may be happy.

Penelope was pleased that her words reassured them that nothing at all was lost; rather this was life’s means of showing them that it had so much more to bestow. This, she believed, was the onset of a greater realization, understanding, and appreciation of life for the girls.

The fact that Lydia and Cassandra were now finally growing up in other aspects of life made Penelope very proud of the girls. She was sure that Cassandra hadn’t told her own mother yet, for had she done so, Dorothy, Cassandra’s mother, surely wouldn’t have forgotten to share the news with her. Penelope began to reminisce:

~

As much as both mothers had been proud of, and very much amazed by, the friendship shared by the pair, often had they wondered and conversed between themselves if ever the girls would become conscious that their no-less-than divine relationship was but one facet of the much more that life could give.

In one another had both mothers confided their hopes that college would awaken the girls to the world beyond the naiveté with which they still regarded life. If fate failed to play a role in their daughters’ lives, their mothers were fairly certain that the girls would have been perfectly content to move back into an apartment building together where, if they were not to share one, their respective apartments were bound to be adjacent to each other. Again were they likely to share conversations into the early hours of the morning. What their conversations might have entailed neither mother could imagine; they were very much of the conviction that boys were unlikely to ever be a topic though.

Never had the girls any inkling that their mothers were very aware of their very late window prattling. However, rather than put an end to it, because neither child had ever failed to awaken to the alarm, ready themselves for school, and were acutely focused in class, both mothers had chosen to let their girls carry on as though nothing were out of the ordinary. They also thought it sweet.

Antecedent to Cassandra’s declaration, neither mother was sure if they ought to have been troubled concerning their girls, for even though now off to college, both had kept every single childhood doll and tea set into the present, and once in a while actually played with them.

Now it seemed as though fate would fail neither Penelope nor Dorothy.

~

Awaking from her reverie, Penelope said, “Now that that’s been taken care of, would you care to share how and when this wonderful meeting happened, mi amor?”

Cassandra was happy to oblige. “As sweet as he was,” Cassandra said, having recounted the tale while folding and placing clothing on the bed, “I really had no intention of calling him and took his number only so that I could leave.” She was still for a moment and very pensive. “But you know what was really weird?”

“Que?” Lydia asked while placing some folded clothes into a drawer.

“As much as I wanted to leave, I seemed to be glued to where I stood. And now that I think about it… it was as if, unless I took his phone number, I wasn’t going to be going anywhere. I know it sounds strange – and it is – but it really seems to have been that way,” she said, her face betraying perplexity. “Anyway, after I got home I was about to delete his number when I realized that such a thing would not have been nice to do. I’d feel awful if anyone had given me the slightest indication that they’d call but then never did. I’d rather the person not have taken my number in the first place because then I wouldn’t be a slave to hope, which can be as wickedly cruel a curse as it can be a blessing. So I thought to call him and explain that I only took his number so that I may leave and that he may not keep hoping or expecting.”

“That was very considerate of you, sweetie. Sounds like you didn’t call though,” Lydia’s mom said while looking into her daughter’s closet, curious as to what, if any, clothing she might have had at her daughter’s apartment.

“No, I didn’t. I guess as nice as he seemed, I still didn’t really want to call him, even to tell him what I just explained.”

“Though I think that you should give him a chance,” suggested Penelope, “I’m curious regarding why you haven’t deleted his number yet then.”

“Honestly, Mommy, I don’t know. There seems to be something preventing my doing so. I’m probably sounding stranger each time I say something but it really did, or does, seem to be that way.”

“Some would interpret that as being the hand of fate, or destiny, sweetie. And who’s to say that it isn’t?” said Penelope.

“I don’t know, Mama… I’ve never dated before and I’d be very silly to date, of all people, an American. Oddly enough though, I do like him, I think – and I guess that also has something to do with me not deleting his number.”

“Love, the world is full of wonderful things and it isn’t always that they come easy or direct, if ever. I’m not telling you what to do but I think your mother would agree with me that sometimes things happen for a reason. Even if something were not to work out the first time, perhaps a failing might be what it takes to get to where what you want or need really is. A blessing in disguise is the expression.”

“But, Mom, we know quite a few girls who have had their hearts broken by American soldiers who have left,” contended Lydia, who was standing beside her mother at the wardrobe, putting up the last of her clothes.

“And I’m sure that there are quite a few American soldiers who have gone back with the girl that they met while here or perhaps, not wanting the woman they love to leave all that she knows behind, might have left the army so they could both stay and be together here,” observed her mother. “Granted, the number of broken hearts likely exceeds the tales with happy endings, still it does not hurt to try. Just be clever about it. How could we ever know what fate might have in store for us but it never came to pass because fear was allowed to take control?” asked Penelope.