Infused Spirits - (December 31, 2019)

“These are the moments when we live,” JP says looking out into the evening sky, the sherbet sunset fading behind the leafless black-branches crisscrossing the winter landscape. “Hard to believe this is our third New Year’s without Charlie.”

“This is the opposite of what I expected just a few years ago.” Annie answers from her place next to JP in an Adirondack chair on their deck overlooking Dottie’s front yard. “Buying Nona’s house wasn’t something I’d have predicted.”

“Not sure this meets Mama’s expectations of my exceptionalism,” he smiles holding up the joint he’d just finished rolling at the table on the deck, the crystal ashtray set in the middle. “But this is a beautiful joint.”

“I like being with you.”

“I like being with you too,” JP answers with a smile that warms Annie’s soul and sets a swirling energy that moves her body closer to him. When her lips meet his she feels the jolt deep within that releases a guttural groan of pleasure. “Not right now baby,” he exhales pulling himself from her, “everyone is going to be her in less than an hour.”

She laughs. “I want to laugh more in 2020,” Annie says, taking the unlit joint from JP’s warm hands, her touch soft but assertive. She lifts the cone to her lips and with a flick of her wrist ignites the tip with the pink lighter. With the exhale she stands and walks closer to the railing to watch Dottie across the street bent over her sewing machine taking down the hem of the dress Collette wants to wear to their New Year’s Eve party. “Hard to believe how much Colette has grown since August,” she says almost to herself before taking another hit of the lit joint in her right hand. Standing at the railing and facing her childhood home, Annie feels grounded in the place she thought she’d flown away from, and is grateful JP likes to sit with her on their deck as sunset experiencing the gift of these evenings together.

“It’s been a busy few years.” JP says almost to himself, reclining back in his Adirondack chair. He thinks of the days right after their wedding when Lorenzo asked if Annie and JP would be interested in taking care of the house. He was leaving, for a while he’d said. He was being sent to a smaller parish in Arizona and didn’t want to sell it because he was coming back. But then he’d decided to spend time at the Vatican in Rome and he changed his mind about returning to Cambridge.

So they’d bought it.

JP stands and takes a few steps closer to Annie, carefully removing the joint that he’d rolled from Annie’s right hand, then wraps his free arm around Annie’s waist. She leans back on his strong chest and sighs. “Fixing up this house with Mike has been good for you.” She laughs and as he pulls her closer is grateful his embrace still excites her as it did in her Martha’s Vineyard bedroom so many summers ago. “This is the type of night I’d dreamed of having our wedding on,” she says quietly, watching the clouds of her breath appear in the cool night air. “I always thought I’d be married on cold, starry winter-night.”

She looks across at the colored Christmas lights still twinkling on Dottie’s porch, not dimmed by the thin covering of frost. “I must say, Colette could be six feet tall if she keeps growing like she did this year.”

“Her height is from Khadijah’s side,” JP pontificates, “and Khadijah’s daddy never lets me forget that.”

“And who would have thought that Colette’s decision to have a bat-mitzvah next year would bring us all together?”

“We are interesting example of what’s possible.”

“Truth! My Irish Catholic mother will be sewing a dress for your child’s bat mitzvah whose mother is Black and her mother’s family is headed by a Baptist minister and her French Jewish grandmother wants to host a party on Martha’s Vineyard next summer to celebrate! Now that’s a lot of norm violations and we are not destroyed, we are better.”

“There are some who believe that any violation of a norm can lead to destruction, but what is normal anyway?”

“Some people might think our decision giving up the glamour of LA for Cambridge to be closer to my family isn’t that normal, but I love that Maeve and Mike are staying with Dottie and it’s so convenient to have our contractor right across the street.”

JP lifts the lit joint to Annie’s lips and she inhales slowly, enjoying the moment that she’s in. “You know what I’ve learned, I’ve learned that frustration comes about when we think we can control what we cannot. I think that’s why I overreacted when I found out about Colette and Mama, but I’m different now. I feel, I don’t know, maybe more grounded and accepting.”

“I never meant to betray you, but your decision to leave was right”

“My anger, it was from not knowing. My ignorance of what was happening, what was true, I couldn’t control any of it and I reacted.”

“As our wonderful therapist says, if you can’t recognize mistakes, you can’t learn.”

“And attention is love.”

Annie turns her head away from Dottie’s window and curls her body closer to JP and looks up into his dark, moody eyes. “I love you because you believed in me. You let me dream when everyone was telling me to grow up.” Annie smiles at his confession.

“Do you still think of us – as home?”

“Of course,” he answers softly, dreamily sinking into space as their bodies and minds entwine.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Annie exclaims, breaking their moment together. “I got a card from Lorenzo today.” She pulls away from JP’s arms and takes a long white envelope from her coat pocket and  removes the photo in it.

“Is that really him hiking?” JP asks as he examines the image. 

“Look what he wrote in the back – no other message.”

JP looks at the words and ponders what is meant. “God is a verb. That’s strange and cryptic.”

Annie takes the image back and looks at the man she once loved and thinks that she understands the nuance of what he wants her to know. She wants to believe that what he is telling her is that he will always be with her, and that he was always her best friend and God did not replace her but God is his purpose, it’s what he does. God is a verb. Annie turns back toward the railing and watches Dottie pick up the dress, walk briskly from the sewing room and with a flick of the lights leaves the room dark and empty.

“Let’s get inside, we need to get ready, they’ll be here soon,” Annie says.

“Of course,” he agrees, kissing the top of her head before turning to place the filter of the finished joint in the crystal ashtray.

Before he can close the sliding glass doors that lead into their bedroom, he hears the bells of the St. Catherine of Genoa Parish ring out six prosaic chimes. As he slides the doors shut he thinks to himself - 2020 is going to be a great year.