Honk! Honk!
"Goodbye!" I say as loud as I can. I raise my arm in the air to give them all a big waive as the car leaves the cottage to head back to the main road that will take them to the airport.
My mother turns around and looks out the rear window. She gives both me and Aunt Nancy a big smile along with a hummingbird waive, before turning back in her seat. My father sticks his arm out the passenger side window to let me know he heard me, and Uncle Hank gives another honk as they take off down the lane.
I watch as the car wheels kick up little bits of gravel; and when it is a minuscule object in the distance, I turn back to face Aunt Nancy.
I'm glad she's still here.
"Aw...are those tears?" she says and puts her arm around me as we head back inside the cottage.
"No tears in the cottage! New rule!" she snaps jokingly as she heads straight for the wine fridge to pull out a bottle for the both of us.
"Are you sure you're ok to stay here? Uncle Hank doesn't mind you not going with him?" I ask -- but I already know the answer.
"Oh puh-leeze! I need a break from him; all his tinkering with the stereo system, setting barbecues on fire and nearly killing us in the boat! Uh... a little alone time will be nice." she says laughing as she pulls the cork out of the bottle.
I smile at her.
"Besides," she says as she fills up our glasses; "someone's got to stay here and make sure the start of the season goes off without any glitches. I'm not just a trophy wife y'know -- although this bod is pretty damn hot!"
She does a little spin before gesturing for me to walk with her.
I take a sip of wine and follow her out onto the top deck. One of the staff from the resort has just finished making a fire and laying out blankets on the outdoor couches and chairs for us to get cozy.
"This is such a sweet deal," I say to Aunt Nancy as I nestle under what is the softest blanket in the world, and snuggle into the corner of the couch I'm sitting on.
"Yeah, it'll do." says Aunt Nancy jokingly. We sit there quietly for a minute or two gazing at the stars. I make a mental note to myself to maybe try and learn some constellations before the end of the summer. The ancients used to know the heavens. The greatest story tellers got their inspiration from the sky. I feel ignorant not having that knowledge.
"You're not sad that they left?" says Aunt Nancy after a moment or two.
"No!" I say quickly. "I mean, they were up here for so long -- and I totally get that they have to go back to work; and besides, I should be working as well. No, it was great. So...superb to have them here. But you know, it's also nice to have just you and me time."
We clink our glasses and I reach for the bottle to top us both off.
"So...with your writing," Aunt Nancy says as she lights a cigarette, "do you want me to just leave you alone and we'll hook up at dinner or, I dunno, I can keep myself busy with the resort and other stuff. But I want you to write that movie so I can meet Al Pacino at the premier!" she says and drifts off for a moment.
"Well, I haven't written since...you know...and, I don't really know how it's going to go. But, maybe safe to say that if it looks like I'm in a groove, just maybe check in with me later. It's hard to say really. I won't really know until I start."
Aunt Nancy nods, "Well, you just let me know if I'm buggin' ya -- otherwise, I'm here. I got vino and beer. And I'm a lot of fun if you have any of that writer's block, ok?" she says and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
"Deal!" I tell her. And, as the cool night air starts to set in -- I hear a plane in the distance and wonder if that's them flying back to the city. I feel a moment of angst at the thought of them being gone, but then Aunt Nancy waives a converter that she found in a drawer under the couch. Two seconds later we have music.
Music, and stars and wine.
I feel the page turn as I start to relax and enjoy the rest of the night, gabbing about anything and everything that comes to our minds. And when the panic and the angst starts to bubble, I simply take another sip of wine and let it calm my nerves.
Now that I'm better, I have no choice but to move forward. To not do so would be selfish, unjust. And, I've never been one to permeate in stagnancy. No, I have to move forward. Live the life I was suppose to embrace. After all, I'm still alive.
