Exile
It was a small house with not much of a yard. Neighbours on either side on a quiet street, Thomas Digby liked where he lived. “I need to shovel the walk so the mailman can get up to the house.” He stopped in the midst of putting his parka on. His eyes had fallen on the small framed photo by the front door. Over time the photos, like a lot of memories, seemed to fade into the woodwork. Why he paid notice to it today, he couldn’t have said. Hung there years before, it was his only reminder of his life on the island. It had been taken one November. The November he had taken the ferry to the Mainland and a new life. He shrugged on his coat, wrapped his old red scarf around his neck and pulled on his toque. “That was the last day that James and I saw each other. I wonder where he is now.”
“Who are you talking to, Thomas? I can’t hear you if it’s me.” Sonja and Thomas, never married, had been together for over thirty years. She had just closed up her computer when she heard him talking. “No, Sonja, just talking to myself. Thinking out loud.” He pulled his big leather gloves on. “I’m going out to clear the sidewalk, honey. Come on out when you’re done and we can walk down to the coffee shop.”
~~~~~
When Thomas had been in the small mountain city of Innocence for only a few months, he hired on at the local newspaper. Definitely not big city news, but enough that the owner needed some help. Sometimes he was a reporter, sometimes he set type the old-fashioned way. He met and married one of his co-workers. It was a happy marriage but was short lived. His wife fell ill and passed away after only two years. They had no children, so Thomas was left alone. Besides falling in love with his wife, he had also fallen in love with his new community. It was so different from when he was raised on the Estate with James. It was a wonderful place to grow up, the two boys almost having the run of the place. Able to stop in the big kitchen anytime they wanted, they could always beg a treat from Cook. In the summer, they could eat all the fresh apples they wanted. He couldn’t remember the gardener’s name anymore, just that he had a son named Sam. Often a threesome, Sam’s father would call him away to help in the yard or garden. With each shovel of snow, all those memories came flooding back, spurred by that silly photo at the door. “I’ll have to take that down………or….I’ll see what Sonja has to say.” He threw the last shovel of snow onto the ever-growing pile. Looking up, he saw the front door open. Sonja, bundled in a big silver puffy coat and an orange knitted hat, adjusted the evergreen wreath she had made and hung on the door. “Ready to put that shovel up and let’s go get in the warm? Abigail makes fresh cinnamon buns on Wednesdays, Thomas. You know how you love them. Oh, and here’s a mask for you.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice! Let’s go.” He propped the shovel on the porch, slapped his gloved hands together and shivered. Putting his mask on, he took her hand, and they set off at a brisk walk to Abigail’s Coffee and Bakeshop.
~~~~~
The Bakeshop was full despite the pandemic restrictions limiting numbers. Every table full, some with students doing their online assignments and research, some old friends that called out greetings to them and some women grouped around a table discussing books. Thomas and Sonja stood just inside the door looking for an open seat. Just as they were about to leave to go to the town’s only diner, their snow mobile friends, George and Sandra stood up. George called out to them. “We’re just leaving, Thom……….Abby, can you give me a wipe for this table. Thom and Sonja are taking it and we’re leaving…….Thanks.” Sandra picked up their empty mugs and plates. “Just put that wipe in here and I’ll throw it out with our napkins, dear.” Masks on, elbows bumped all around they were ready to exchange seats. “Sandra, I’m glad I caught you. Are we still Zooming for Book club next week? I haven’t heard anything.” Sonja took her hat and gloves off, fluffed her hair and hung her coat on the back of a chair. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. I sent Marie an email this morning about it. There’s talk of lifting restrictions soon but who knows for sure. I’ll either call you or email you……..I’m coming, George. Be patient……..When he wants to go he wants me to already be in the car.” She laughed and was gone.
~~~~~
They were settled with their Americano’s and two big cinnamon buns. Sonja had cut her’s in sections, eating them carefully with a plastic fork. Thomas had finished his and was eyeing the nice little sections across the table from him. “Sonja. I have a question for you. Did you know that I have a brother?” She sat back in her chair, her eyes wide. “A brother? You’ve never talked much about your early life at all. You haven’t seemed to want to talk about it. As soon as I've ever approached it, you manage to change the subject.” Thomas hung his head, both hands around his coffee mug. He looked up at her. “Have you never wondered about the photo by the front door?”
“I've often wondered about it and sometimes wanted to throw it out. But I’ve seen you touch it from time to time. Just a sort of caress, an afterthought when you’re on your way out. I guess I just thought that it’s important to you and that you didn’t want to talk about it.” She reached out her hand to his and they smiled at each other.
“Well, my brother’s name is James. We have lost touch. I moved around a lot before landing in this town. At first I tried to let dad and James know where I was, but after a while I just stopped. Maybe it was when Marnie was so sick and then she was gone. My last phone call, I don’t remember when it was but they wouldn’t know where I was or how to find me.” He turned his face to the window and wiped his eyes quickly. “What do you want to do, Thomas? Find your brother? Our wifi isn’t as good as in here, but when we’re home we can start looking.”
“What we desire, more than a season or weather,
is the comfort of being strangers, at least to ourselves.”
~ Mark Strand, Blizzard of One
