Leon
After introductions are made, Tenille gets me situated in the carrier house. It's located on the eastern edge of her family's property. For three whole minutes, Tenille and I walk down the white brick path in the golden light stemming from the sunset. Being here has stirred up a nostalgic feeling in my stomach. I can remember every inch of the carrier house, Tenille's house, and the property itself. I don't know how many days the three of us – me, Tenille, and Liz – spent up here during the summers of our childhood.
When we step into the carrier house, Tenille shooting me a wary glance as we do, I realize that the place has been remodelled since the last time I was here. Tenille's grandmother, before she died of old age, had a much more eccentric taste. I remember dolls being on every shelf, strange antique pictures, and god-awful wallpaper. There was also some shaggy carpet running through the building. Now, the carrier house is bigger and has a contemporary look to it. A few walls have been knocked down, making room for an open-concept style. The kitchen is black and white with hints of brass and several pendant lights. The living room matches the kitchen, with a beautiful white leather couch and large flatscreen TV hanging on the wall. Several plants dot the area, ranging from succulents to palms. The walls have been painted a soft white and the floors are now a sandy hardwood. I have to say the place looks stunning and I'm excited to see what they've done with the rest of it.
"Looks amazing," I say as I kick off my shoes. I set my bags down on the floor, in front of the closet, and begin to wander through the kitchen. I've never been a fan of brass, but it looks good against the marbled white countertop and white cupboards. The dark backsplash also helps tone it down a bit. I run my hand over the smooth surface of the island.
When Tenille doesn't reply, I glance up at her. She's glaring at me, her arms crossed over her chest. "You do realize how shitty your timing is, right?"
"I was invited to the wedding," I frown. "And the invitation clearly stated that I could show up early if I wanted to exploreWhistler, Ten." I pause, wondering why Tenille is acting so strange. She's shifting her weight back and forth between her feet and refusing to meet my gaze. Her behaviour is what makes me wonder if Liz's reaction correlates with the way she's acting right now. I decide to play a game with her. Appearing as innocent as I can, I say, "I can't understand why Liz was so shocked to see me, considering she was the one who sent out the invitations. I thought she would have expected me to come this early. You know what I'm like, Ten. I can't pass up a good time."
Tenille tugs at the tips of her dark-brown hair and sighs. "Eliza didn't invite you, Leon. I did. She didn't want you to come."
"Oh," I say, caught off guard. My heart begins to hurt a little – even though I shouldn't be surprised by Liz's ill will towards me. I turn my back to Tenille and rub my jaw, staring at the dark backsplash. Maybe coming here three weeks early was a bad idea. Maybe I'm too late. My original plan had been to come here and do something I should have done a long time ago: tell Liz how I really feel about her. Tell her that, in the time we've spent apart, I was an asshole and I never should have lied to her about my mom's death.
"You came at the worst possible time!" she repeats, throwing her hands up in the air. "I invited you, yes, but I didn't think you'd show up three weeks early! Damn it, Leon! I hope you know just how complicated you've made everything."
She sits down on a barstool at the island and drops her face into her hands, muttering obscene words in my direction. I walk around the island and sit down next to her. It doesn't make me feel any better, so I get back to my feet and begin to pace the length of the island. Damn. Okay. Maybe Tenille has a point. Eliza didn't say a word to me the moment I stepped into the living room and saw her with her fiancé. She could barely string together a sentence when Tenille introduced me to everyone and then invited me for a drink.
"If you're so upset with me about arriving early, then why did you invite me to begin with?" I ask, my voice soft. I lean against the counter and stare at her. "Why not send me a letter saying I wasn't invited?"
Tenille shoots me a nasty glare. I cringe, hating how powerful her bluish-grey eyes are. "We're not in high school anymore, Leon," she replies coldly. "Everything has changed. Eliza moved on. I thought you would want to come to the wedding out of respect for your best friend, to support her. Don't tell me you haven't seen her Instagram account and all the pictures of her and James together. I also couldn't raise suspicion and send you home after I opened the door."
I sigh. I have been keeping up with her photos with James. I just thought they wouldn't make it. I'd hoped they wouldn't make it.
"I couldn't raise suspicion," she continues, "because if I would have kicked you out, James would have been curious and that would have put Eliza in an uncomfortable position. She never told James about you, Leon. And I don't blame her for not saying anything. You broke her poor little heart. She waited for you, and when you told her you were coming to visit, she was ecstatic. I've never seen her so excited before, so happy. And then you had the audacity to not show up. You bailed on her for the millionth time and lied to her. I don't know what you lied to her about, but it hurt her. As did the phone calls you never answered. What the hell happened? You wouldn't actually bail on her because of golf, would you?"
Her words are a punch to the gut and, for a moment, I feel obliged to apologize to Eliza for showing up and then leave for Saanich. But my stubborn heart overpowers my logic and my mind begins to defend the decision I made. I needed to get back to St. John's to be with my mom. And even though I lied to Eliza about why I couldn't make it to Whistler that night, I did her a favour. I saved her heart from feeling the same pain mine felt when dad told me that mom had been diagnosed with cancer and didn't have much time left. When Eliza's parents went through their divorce, my mom and dad were her saving grace. They let her stay at our place, supported her, and my mom would even take her on shopping trips to Vancouver. Eliza loved my mom more than she loved her own. If she knew what happened...fuck, it would kill her.
Speaking of Eliza...the last time I saw her in person was when we were seventeen. Her blonde hair was hacked back to her chin in a wavy bob cut. It was the first and last haircut she ever did by herself. She did it because she claimed the hairdresser would never cut it short enough for her mechanics class. She was wearing a boyfriend-style cable knit sweater with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a pair of sexy black leggings. She had scratches across her knuckles and callouses on her hands. Her cheeks were pink from the biting autumn air. Back then, she was the very essence of a tomboy and was always willing to prove she was tougher and better than the entire male population of Whistler. Which she was. No one could sprint as fast as her during track and field. No one could score a higher grade on any test. Damn it, she knew how to change the oil of her own truck by the time she was fifteen.
And she was basically the same during the four years we kept in touch. But now? I turn my back to Tenille, biting my bottom lip as I stare out at the view of the forest. Eliza isn't the tomboy I remember. She hasn't grown much, but her features are much sharper and defined, losing any trace of our childhood. Her hair has also gotten a little darker due to the butterscotch undertones that streak her long locks – it's past her shoulders now, almost down to her mid-back. With her fuller lips and curvy body, Eliza looks like a woman instead of that scrawny kid I remember.
"Leon Saint-Laurent," Tenille scolds from behind. "Quit chewing on your knuckle. We have changed since high school, but I know exactly what you're thinking when you do that."
I turn around and grin at her. "Can you blame me?"
The hard features of Tenille's face soften a little. "No," she admits. "I can't." Getting to her feet, she shakes her head. "Be careful, Leon. Eliza hasn't spoken of you in ages. I don't know if it's because she misses you or if she hates you, but what I do know is that she's in love with James. Sort out your past and apologize to her, but don't mess things up for her. She doesn't need another broken heart."
"I would never hurt her," I whisper.
"Then why did you lie to her? Why did you leave her crying by the creek that night?"
I stare at Tenille. Truthfully, I'm scared to tell her the truth. Eliza wasn't the only one who loved my mom. But I know I have to tell her what really happened if I'm going to justify why I'm here – and I don't just mean the truth about my mom. "My mom died," I choke, emotions already tugging at my heart. "After I was finished with university in Halifax, I decided to move to Saanich to further my career in golf. I lived there for two whole months before I worked up enough courage to call Eliza and tell her I wanted to see her. When she agreed, I almost started crying. I had been terrified that she'd moved on and just avoided telling me or posting photos online so she wouldn't hurt me. After I hung up the phone, I immediately began to prepare for our planned night by the creek, on our rock..." I trail off, running a hand through my hair. This is the part I don't like to talk about. The moment felt surreal and I had to make a split decision between two people I love.
"When I was about to leave, I got a call from my dad saying that Mom was in the hospital. She'd been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. It had already spread outside the pancreas and into nearby major blood vessels and the lining of her stomach. I left for St. John's that night and arrived early the next morning to meet with my dad and the doctor. He told us that mom only had about two months left to live, even with temporary treatment. Of course, my mom refused. She didn't want to prolong the illness for longer than need be. Over the course of those two months, I watched her get sicker and sicker. I could barely think, let alone feed myself or contact extended family members and friends."
I aggressively wipe at the tears streaming down my face and glance at the ceiling. The day I lost my mom, I was twenty-two and was fresh out of university. Everything had seemed perfect when I moved to Saanich. I had a steady job at the University of Victoria as a coach and was on my way to making the PGA tournament the following summer. I had worked up the courage to meet with Eliza and apologize for all those times I bailed on her, to promise her that I would never leave her behind again. Until everything came crashing down around me. I also made it ten times worse by not telling Eliza the truth, by not returning all her missed calls during the final two months I had with my mom. I didn't want her to feel the pain I felt. And at the time it felt like a good enough reason. Now? Now it just seems entirely selfish. Eliza had a right to know what happened. Not only did I break her trust, but I also kept important information from her and acted like a selfish asshole.
Tenille's face falls and tears begin to pool in her eyes. "Leon," she whispers. "I'm so sorry."
I turn away. Mom's death shook me. I could barely think or breathe, let alone shower or feed myself. I felt terrible for ignoring Eliza's calls, but I felt she would have understood my situation. I had always been planning on telling her. I just didn't want to hit her with two separate blows in the same night. But the thing was, I never did. With the funeral, therapy, and coping mechanisms I was trying out, I didn't have time to call her back and apologize for lying. And by the time I got my head screwed on straight, my guilt had gotten the best of me. I shouldn't have lied to her and I can honestly say that was the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life.
Alarmed by my silence, Tenille rushes up to me and pulls me into a bone-breaking hug. "I'm so sorry, Leon," she whispers, rubbing my back. "I had no idea."
I sigh, pulling out of the hug. My knees are beginning to shake and I need to sit down, which I do. Directly on the floor in front of the stainless-steel fridge. Tenille follows me, taking my hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. "I'm so sorry," she sniffles. "Leon...Eliza and I should have been at the funeral. Why didn't you tell us? Why did you lie to her?"
To my utter dismay, more tears slip down my cheeks. "I thought I was protecting her," I whisper. "I know how much Liz loved my mom. I thought me not showing up and hearing about my mom would have put her over the edge. And after everything she went through as a kid, I didn't want her to feel that pain again." I take a deep breath. "I'm not trying to justify my mistakes, Ten, but I wasn't in my right mind when Dad broke the news to me. Nor was I in my right mind for the months following Mom's death. I know I should have told Eliza from the beginning and I will always regret not telling her."
Tenille side-glances me. "I still don't understand why you didn't contact her once you got better. Or me, for that matter."
I lightly knock my head against the fridge, tipping my chin to the ceiling as I run my hand through my hair. "My guilt got the best of me. I lied to her, Ten, and the moment it left my mouth, the guilt began to eat at me. I could easily tell Eliza knew that I was lying to her and I was ashamed. I...I didn't think she'd want to talk to me..."
I trail off, shaking my head. Now that I say it out loud, it sounds fucking stupid. But guilt is a crippling emotion – it's the greatest destroyer of emotional energy. Every day since those words came out of my mouth, the guilt has been eating at me. I've been immobilized in the present by something that happened in the past, and I was weak enough to let it continue to dictate my actions.
"Leon," Tenille says. "It's terrible that you lied to her, but I can understand where you're coming from. You do, however, have to give Eliza more credit than you do. It would have hurt her, yes, but she would have made it through. She's a strong-willed woman. You, of all people, should know that."
"I know," I sigh. "I know that now. I'm so sorry for not telling you or Eliza about what happened to my mom. Things were...things were messy in my head."
"I think messy is an understatement," she snorts, resting her head on my shoulder.
"It probably is," I reply, a smile on my face.
"So," Tenille says. "What are you going to do?"
I blink, looking down at her. "What do you mean?"
"Eliza needs to know the truth about what happened. It will clear the obvious tension between the two of you."
I suppress a snort. If Tenille thinks I'm only here to clear the air with Eliza, she's wrong. While I do want to make amends with her for lying and not putting in the effort to stay in contact, our story is much more complex than that. The feelings Eliza and I used to share can't be ignored – the past we share can't be ignored. I get that everything has changed. I get that we're different people now. But I highly doubt that Eliza wants to stay away from me. She's always been a curious person; she's going to want to know why I'm here despite being mad at me. I also want to get to know her again.
"Something," I shrug. "I haven't quite figured it out yet."
Tenille looks like she doesn't believe me, but she doesn't question me. Instead, she gets to her feet and nods. "I'm glad you came back to tell her, Leon. And I'm so sorry about what happened to your mom, but I'm glad you're better now and want to fix things. She'll appreciate that...If you can find a way to talk to her. You hurt her pretty badly, Leon." She glances around the kitchen, wiping away the tears from her cheeks. Her eyes are still red and a little puffy. "Well, I'm going to let you get settled in now. I'm happy you're here."
I look up at Tenille and present her with my best smile. "I'm happy to be here, too, Ten."
Before she leaves the kitchen, Tenille turns around and says, "Breakfast is at eight A.M. if you want to join us. My mom's making her usual."
The corner of my mouth quirks up. "She still does that?"
"Every Sunday morning," she laughs.
"I'll be there," I reply. "I loved your mom's breakfasts."
Although her smile is slightly pained, probably from me mentioning the word mom, she nods and turns her back to me, heading for the front door. I patiently wait until I hear it open and then close before I get to my feet. Turning the tap on as cold as it can go, I splash some water on my hot face to calm the tears. These probably won't be the last tears I cry while I'm here, but I'm ready for the rest of them. I came here to fix things between Eliza and I. And even if it means I have to pin her down and force her to talk to me, I'm going to make sure I leave this place with my best friend back in my life. I'll do anything to regain her trust and be friends with her again.