Look Inside So Far So Close

– 1 –

Summers in Calgary were scorching. Luke’s father Gino was fond of saying, “it’s hot enough out to fry an egg on the sidewalk.” When he put his father’s words to the test, all that resulted was a yellow, runny mess on the concrete. He had caught shit from his mother Nora, too. In hindsight, the front walkway had been a bad place to practice his outdoor culinary skills. Luke blamed the sun for melting his brain.

The heat took away the desire to think about anything except how to stay cool. The basement of his family’s 1962 bungalow became the hangout for Luke, his younger sister Adaline, and their friends. The partially finished space offered the perfect place to become experts at Kerplunk, Operation, Trouble, and other games of that era.

But everything changed during the summer of 1976, when Beverly Shaffer moved into the house across the back alley from Luke’s. Nora described her as “the girl with hair spun from gold,” even though Luke thought her hair had some brown in it.

Beverly and Luke were both twelve, but her birthday was six months earlier, so technically she was older. Those six extra months must have had magical properties because she possessed special knowledge about the world that he had yet to learn. Like the way bees remember which flowers to visit, the best way to say hello to an unfamiliar dog, or the perfect time to launch yourself from a swing without falling on your head. Beverly reminded Luke of Heidi, a story he had read in Grade 4 about a blond free-spirited girl from the Swiss Alps. Every day became an unexpected adventure, and Luke’s friends didn’t see much of him that summer.

“Luke and Beverly sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” sang Adaline every chance she got. At first it was funny. Luke brushed off his younger sister’s teasing, but soon it got under his skin like a stone in his shoe. The basement was no longer the haven it had once been.

That was fine by Beverly. She preferred being outside, even when it was hot out. And there was plenty to do. Beverly may have been older, but Luke had a bigger yard. A path to the back alley divided the patch of lawn, a small garden and a detached garage on one side, and a sand box with a swing set for two on the other.

Beverly claimed the swing set at the back of the yard as her own, using it every chance she had. Pumping her legs to the sky, she would swing so high Luke worried that she might go “around the world.” He tried his best to match her heights but lost his nerve when he approached the height of the top bar of the swing set. That was okay. He was content to watch her long hair dance around her head. Then she’d push off, always at the exact right moment, and sail through the air, clearing the sand box and tumbling onto the grass in front, giggling uncontrollably. It was safe to say that Beverly completely captivated Luke. Her unpredictable nature made the long summer days of 1976 so much fun.

On one sweltering August day, Luke heard the familiar rap-rap-rap on the screen door at the side of the house.

“Luke, honey.” His mom peered down the hallway from the kitchen. “It’s Beverly.”

“Lu-uke,” Adaline said in her nine-year-old sing-song voice. “Your girlfriend’s here!”

“Addie.” Nora crossed her arms and glared at Adaline from across the kitchen. “Please stop teasing your brother. You’ll have a boyfriend some day.”

Adaline ran through the kitchen toward the bedrooms at the back of the house, waving her hands above her head. “Never! Yuck! Boys are totally gross!”

Luke gave his mom an embarrassed glance, grabbed his shoes, and stepped out onto the stoop.

Beverly stood waiting by the house in black Converse high tops, yellow shorts, and a white t-shirt with a stylized rainbow and the words “Made of Stars” written underneath. Her eyes sparkled.

“Race you to the park!” And she was off, racing through the back yard toward the alley and her house.

“Hey! Wait up!” Luke had grown accustomed to Beverly’s bursts of energy and knew she rarely waited for anyone. He pulled on his Adidas, quickly tied them, and ran after her, his own denim cut-offs and Star Trek t-shirt rippling in his wake.

The back gate to her yard remained open, indicating the path she had just taken. Luke followed and cut through her yard to get to the street in front of her house and the park beyond.

Rosscarrock Park stretched parallel to the front of Beverly’s house and other houses on her street. The park offered more swings, a jungle gym shaped like a pirate ship, and a network of platforms and slides. Both deciduous and conifer trees dotted the remaining green space, offering lots of spots either in shade or sunshine.

Luke bypassed the gate at the park and hopped the chainlink fence. “Beverly?” He scanned the area but couldn’t spot her. Hide and seek was one of her favorite games and she was good at it. “Where are you?”

He crossed through the playground and focused on the trees, which he would have chosen if he was hiding. “I’m going to find you.”

Most of the deciduous trees, birch and elm, weren’t old enough to offer large enough trunks to hide behind, but the pine and spruce trees offered big branches at the base of the trees to help conceal anyone attempting to hide there. Luke crouched to hands and knees and scanned at grass-level looking for tell-tale signs of a hidden guest.

Beverly burst out from behind a birch tree Luke had dismissed and touched his shoulder as she ran by. “Tag! You’re it!” He launched himself after her.

Both of them zig-zagged across the grassy field, Luke gaining with every step until he placed his palm between Beverly’s shoulder blades, her hair whipping against his bare forearm.

“Got you!”

Beverly pretended to trip and rolled to the grass, on her back, breathless. Luke positioned himself an arm’s length away, his eyes on the sky as well.

Luke turned his head toward her. “You’re fast.”

“Damn fast, more like.” Beverly began to laugh. Luke joined in as they both caught their breath.

Luke tucked his hands behind his head and watched a loose group of clouds pass overhead. Everything smelled fresh and clean. “I could stay here forever,” he said softly.

Beverly rolled over and pulled something from the grass, then sat up, crossing her legs. “Luke, come here.”

“What is it?”

“I have something to ask you.”

His curiosity piqued, Luke crawled to where Beverly was sitting and mirrored her pose. She held a dandelion in her hand and was spinning the blossom by the stem with her fingers.

“Closer,” she said.

Luke scooted closer, sitting beside her now.

“Do you love...” Beverly extended her arm and held the dandelion blossom under his chin. She lowered her gaze to see the skin just above the dandelion’s yellow petals. “You love butter.”

“What?”

“You love butter.”

Luke scanned her face, waiting for a punchline, but all he saw in her dark brown eyes was sincerity. “Doesn’t everyone love butter?”

“This confirms it,” she said. “Now test me.” Beverly presented the dandelion, its stem softened where she had been twirling it.

Luke held the flower delicately. “What do I do?”

“Hold it under my chin. If you see yellow on my skin, then I love butter too.”

Luke moved Beverly’s fine hair to one side with his free hand and held the dandelion under her chin. He lowered his head to get a good look. Her skin glowed a radiant gold.

He grinned. “Sorry, Bev. Looks like you don’t love butter.”

“No way!” Beverly said. “I do too.”

Luke shook his head, laughing. “Nope.”

Beverly pushed him onto his back and began tickling him. “Yes! Do too! Do too!”

Beverly knew being tickled was one of Luke’s weaknesses. “Okay, okay!” he said between breathless laughs. “You love butter too. Stop!”

But Beverly didn’t stop. Instead, she employed both hands. “No one lies about loving butter!”

Luke writhed on the grass, trying to get away. “Beverly... please... please.”

“Pretty please?” She grinned at him.

“With sugar on—” Luke gasped and cried out in pain.

Beverly’s demeanor flipped in an instant. “Luke?”

He sat up and swatted at his right foot. A wasp crawled out of the grass and flew away. “I think I got stung.”

Beverly knelt and pulled down the cuff of his sock. A red welt expanded along the base of Luke’s ankle. “Affirmative, Captain Obvious. Are you allergic?”

“No, but it hurts like a sonofabitch.”

Beverly stood and offered her hand and Luke took it.

“Thanks,” he said as he draped his left arm around her shoulders.

“Butter lovers have to stick together.” Beverly placed her arm around Luke’s waist and he began to laugh.

“I thought butter made things not stick.”

“Ha ha,” Beverly said. “Not funny. That wasp sting has infected your brain.”

“Come on. Admit it. That was funny.”

Beverly smirked and wiggled the fingers of the hand around Luke’s waist. “I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

“No. Please. No more tickling,” Luke said. “Pretty please with sugar on top.”

“You survive this time.” Beverly gave Luke a playful side-eye and they continued their way back to Luke’s house where Nora mixed up a paste of baking soda and water and applied it to the site of the sting.

Luke wanted the pain in his ankle to stop but he also wanted to remain in Beverly’s arms. He had never been as physically close to her than he had been that day, and he had wished that a wasp sting hadn’t been the reason for it. But the sting acted like a sensory thumbtack for the memory, pinning it to the back of his mind and allowing him to replay it whenever he remembered it was there.

– 2 –

Today marked a milestone. The house Luke had spent his teenaged life in would soon be placed on the market. The modest house at the end of a cul-de-sac had hosted 48 years of birthdays, holidays, celebrations, and family dinners. He would no longer be able to drop by unannounced, pull a chaise lounge onto the deck, and position it under the willow tree. It was a strange feeling knowing that complete strangers would be forging new memories in a house that would forever hold such strong memories for him and his family.

Luke’s parents had finally agreed to move into an active living complex. It had taken Luke and Adaline a few years of negotiation to get Gino and Nora, now well into their eighties, to agree to the move. Both had enjoyed good health all their lives and weren’t interested in slowing down, but the house and surrounding property had become too much to maintain on their own.

Luke’s wife Rosabelle and his 24-year-old daughter Emerson had joined him for breakfast at White Spot on Quadra Street. It was their go-to restaurant for comfort food.

There was no mistake that Emerson was Rosabelle’s daughter, with dark, inquisitive eyes and a smile to match. But she kept her brown hair short. “There’s no time to blow-dry,” she would often say.

Luke finished his classic bennie and left his plate practically spotless, mopping up his remaining yolk and Hollandaise sauce with a piece of toast he had “borrowed” from Rosabelle.

“Want a spatula from the kitchen?” Emerson grinned at him over a plate littered with tidbits of bacon, waffles, and syrup.

“Actually, yeah,” Luke said. “That would be much more efficient.”

Emerson scraped at her plate. “You’re so predictable, Dad.”

The three of them shared a small laugh.

Rosabelle sipped her coffee, then reached out and touched Luke’s forearm lightly. “How you doing, hon?” Her auburn hair framed her beautiful and kind face, and her rich chocolate-brown eyes studied him.

Luke fell in love with her all over again, as he had countless times over the past thirty-five years. “Good, I guess.”

“Bittersweet?”

“Yeah, but it’s the next logical step.” Luke drained his heavily creamed coffee, then held up a finger. “What if... what if we bought their house and everything could stay the same.”

Emerson and Rosabelle stared at him and waited.

“You’d have two houses to maintain,” Rosabelle said finally.

“I know, I know,” Luke said. “I’m kidding. I thought letting go would be easier.” He scanned the restaurant and signaled the server. “So, I’ll swing by the house one last time and do a final check.”

Rosabelle and Emerson exchanged a quick glance that said, here we go again.

Luke picked up on the vibe immediately. “I’ll be quick, I swear. I’ll meet you guys and Addie at Somerset in an hour, tops.”

Luke paid the bill and headed to what used to be the family home at the end of Cantwell Drive. The property offered an ample fenced-in yard, both a carport and a garage, and two floors of finished living space. The exterior of the house wasn’t anything special, but the interior was warm and inviting, even without furniture.

The nostalgia hit him quickly and Luke had a hard time remaining focused initially. So many memories flooded his mind, most good. Instead, he shifted his thoughts to Gino and Nora settling into their new space and beginning a new chapter of their lives.

Luke started on the upper floor and methodically checked every closet, drawer, and cabinet in every room. He had been thorough when downsizing his parents’ possessions and as a result, the move had gone smoothly. So far, he had found nothing of importance that had been left behind.

He descended to the second floor, where his and Adaline’s bedrooms had been when they were teenagers. Nothing but dust bunnies left in the corners.

The downstairs family room had been a place where everyone would gather to watch their favorite TV shows or movies, make art and crafts, or just read by a crackling fire. The bookcases on two adjoining walls opposite the fireplace stood barren.

Luke wished for a chair to sit on, just for a moment, to soak up what little familial ambiance remained. Instead, he sat on the floor in the center of the room and let the quiet surround him. He could almost hear Gino’s vintage vinyl records playing hits from the ’60s and ’70s.

Luke crouched forward to get up and spotted something beside the bookcase along the furthest wall. If he hadn’t sat down at that particular spot, he would have missed it.

He walked over to discover a small cardboard box containing some old 45s, a few cassette tapes, a tattered and well-read paperback of The Thorn Birds, and a manila envelope containing an assortment of family photos.

Luke slid the photos out and flipped through them. They were out of order but dated on the back, not unsurprisingly. Gino and Nora understood how important it was to document family history. Luke wondered how easy it would be to curate the thousands of photos that he and Rosabelle had taken and uploaded to the cloud over the years.

Most of the photos had been taken at Expo ‘86 in Vancouver but a few photos had been taken earlier than that. So many memories. Some photos held no significance for him, but others—

A photo stared up at him that caused him to catch his breath. The image had been taken at dusk and showed himself as a teenager with arcade lights and amusement rides in the background. Standing beside him, with her gaze of admiration locked on his face, was a girl he hadn’t thought of in years. Luke wouldn’t have been able to recall her face in his mind on his own if his life depended on it, but the photo brought her and the memories surrounding her to the forefront of his mind in an instant.

The back of the photo read, “PNE - July 1980.” The Pacific National Exhibition. He remembered the moment, the instant the photo had been taken, probably by one of Beverly’s parents. But the girl he had never forgotten.

Beverly Shaffer.

Luke tried to figure out the last time he had seen her, but the photo kept derailing his calculations. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing now.

He took out his phone and snapped a digital copy of the moment of fun at the PNE. Luke pinch-zoomed into Beverly’s face, filling the phone’s screen and letting his eyes linger on the image.

He broke himself away from his reverie, slid the PNE photo somewhere in the middle of the other photos, and returned them to their envelope. Time was ticking. Rosabelle would be wondering where he was. He carried the box back to the car, took one last look at the house of his childhood and young adult life, and started the engine.

Luke tried to imagine his parents’ surprise with what he had found, but during the entire drive to Somerset House, all he could think about was that photo.

– 3 –

Luke had himself sprawled out on his bed reading an Archie comic when he heard his mother’s voice drift down the hallway to his room.

“Luke, hon. You have a visitor.”

It could have been any number of friends at the door, but Luke hoped it was Beverly. She had helped make this summer the most memorable of his life so far, and he couldn’t wait for Grade 7 to start with his new friend by his side.

All that remained of his recent wasp sting was a somewhat itchy scab. It probably wouldn’t even leave a scar, but he knew Beverly would be interested in seeing how it had healed.

He dog-eared the page he was on and tossed the comic book aside. In quick strides, Luke headed for the side door to the house, anticipating Adaline’s teasing, but she was uncharacteristically silent. He passed the kitchen and grabbed his shoes. Had he been paying more attention, he would have noticed a note of sadness on his sister’s face. But Luke had one person on his mind.

He opened to door to the stoop and no one was there. “Beverly?”

There was no answer.

Luke pulled on his shoes and hastily tied them. He peered out at the street in front of the house, then hustled to the back yard.

Beverly sat on one of the swings, barely moving, instead of arcing back and forth like she always did. She didn’t look up as Luke approached but instead made small grooves in the sand beneath her with her foot.

“Hey.” Luke took the swing next to her and tried to look at her face, but her hair hung in front obscuring it. “Who died?”

Beverly continued to excavate with the toe of her shoe.

Luke felt his skin prick with goosebumps, immediately concerned. “Oh shit. Did someone really—”

Beverly shook her head. “No.”

Luke waited for her to continue, but she remained silent. “What’s wrong?” He wanted to say she was scaring him, but the thought of saying that out loud scared him even more. “Bev?”

Beverly turned in her seat and finally looked up at him, her eyes red and damp. “My dad got a new job.”

“That’s good... isn’t it?”

“It’s in Vancouver.”

Sudden realization hit Luke hard and he felt his stomach drop. “That means...”

“I’m moving away,” Beverly said.

The two of them sat on their swings with what felt like a massive weight sitting between them.

“When?”

“End of August.”

Luke counted on his fingers. “That’s in six days.”

“I know,” Beverly said. “My parents want to be in Vancouver in time for me to start school there.”

He sighed. “That sucks. Grade 7 is going to be so much different without you around.” Luke deflated on his swing and began mimicking Beverly’s feet, digging grooves of his own. “We could write to each other. I promise I would. And I could call you.”

“I guess,” Beverly said. “But it’s not the same.”

The truth cut them both deeply. Luke wanted desperately to change the mood, but nothing seemed appropriate, not swinging, not hide and seek, or even a game of tag.

Beverly eased herself off the swing and headed for the back gate.

“Beverly.” Luke followed her into the alley between their yards. “Wait.”

She stopped and faced him. “What?”

Luke hesitated. He felt a desperate need to hold her, maybe never let go, but would she want that too? He turned off the voices in his head and extended his arms. Beverly reached back and they tightly embraced each other, feeling both connected and far apart.

They didn’t know it then, but it was the first of many moves toward their own adulthoods.

“I’m going to miss you.” Luke choked out his words as tears stung his eyes. “So much.”

“Me too,” Beverly said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“I’ll write to you. I promise.”

“I’ll write back.” Beverly sniffled. “I promise, too. And I won’t forget you, Luke. Don’t forget me.”

“I won’t. See you tomorrow?”

Beverly nodded.

They parted and returned to their own yards. As Luke closed the back gate, he looked to the house and saw his mom in the kitchen window. She offered a small smile as an attempt to eclipse the sadness on her face.

Luke and Beverly tried to make good use of their remaining time together, cramming in as many activities as six days would allow. But the first of September hung above them like some ugly, intrusive beast.

Time marched on and Grade 7 began without Beverly, the best friend Luke had ever known in his life so far. The first letter from Beverly arrived within the first week of school. Luke wrote back immediately and their correspondence continued like that for a while. It felt like things could actually work out.

But even though Luke’s and Beverly’s promise to each other had been sincere, distance and time took its toll on each of them. Living in the moment with friends they could hang out with at school and at home slowly took priority. By December, the frequency of their letters had all but stopped.

After a summer of such promise, Luke spent much of his spare time figuring out how to mend his heart. He had no desire to forget Beverly, but he hadn’t yet discovered how memories forged in the innocence of youth could last a lifetime.

– 4 –

Since parting ways at White Spot, it had taken Luke just over an hour to return to Somerset. All the furniture that Gino and Nora wanted had been moved in earlier in the week, making the transition easier. Rosabelle, Emerson, and Adaline were busy unpacking a few remaining boxes under Nora’s direction. Gino sat in his favourite recliner with a glass of wine, admiring the view of Holland Point and the Salish Sea beyond it.

Compared to their house on Cantwell, the two bedroom suite was a considerable reduction in livable space. But as Rosabelle had pointed out to Nora and Gino when making the downsizing argument, they spent most of their time on the top floor of the old house anyway. Everything else was storage. They had everything they needed in the Somerset suite.

Luke pushed open the door and all eyes fell on him. He raised the box containing the newly discovered items. “Let the party begin!” He stepped over to Rosabelle and kissed her. “Sorry about being a bit late. Traffic was bad.”

Rosabelle smiled. “It’s all good.”

Gino jumped out of his recliner, a grin underneath his closely trimmed gray Van Dyke, and made a beeline for the box in Luke’s arms. He moved sprightly but Luke could sense his wiry 85-year-old father was trying to hide some aches and pains.

“What’d you find?” Gino set his wine down on the counter and ran a hand through his short hair, which had become more salt and less pepper over the past decade. He grabbed the box and dug through it like a child on Christmas morning. “Grab a glass and pour yourself some vino.” Gino’s vino. Red, white, or rosé, that’s what he called all wine.

Luke surveyed the kitchen area. “What can I help with?”

Nora pointed to a couple of boxes, clearly weary from the week-long move. A year behind Gino, Luke could still see the young mother he had looked up to when he was a teenager. Her thinning hair still hung straight to her shoulders, just as it always had, but had adopted a silver overtone. Her daily walks had done wonders for her mind, body, and spirit. “We’d love it if you could set up the computer. We’re using that bedroom for the office.”

Luke nodded and got to work moving the electronics.

Gino pulled out a vinyl 45 and examined it closely. “Ho-lee shit. Alan Sherman. I haven’t heard this in years. And it’s pristine.”

Emerson looked a question at Gino. “Who’s Alan Sherman?”

“He sang parodies of popular songs,” Nora said.

“Like Weird Al,” Adaline added.

Emerson nodded, unimpressed. “Too bad you don’t have a record player anymore.”

“I could stream it.” Gino set the 45 down and began tapping on the screen of his phone.

“Maybe we could save that for later? What else is in the box?” Nora had refined misdirection to an art.

Gino set his phone down and flipped through the 45s. “ABBA, Neil Sedaka, Stompin’ Tom...”

“That’s quite an eclectic playlist.” Rosabelle stopped what she was doing and joined Gino digging through the box. “What else?”

“There’s a few cassette tapes.” Gino flipped them around in his hand. “This one says ‘Kids - 1981.’ God knows what’s on it.”

Adaline retrieved a cassette tape as she tucked a wavy tress behind one ear. A few years younger than Luke, she already had more gray hair than he did, a fact that he made sure that she didn’t forget.

“It’s probably filled with radio plays,” Adaline said. “Remember those? Almost makes me want to find a cassette player.”

Gino continued to move through the box and pulled out The Thorn Birds.

“Here’s something for you, dear.” Gino handed the dog-eared paperback to Nora.

“Oh, I loved that book,” she said.

“And the mini-series. Remember that?” Rosabelle and Nora shared a look, then said in unison, “I never stopped loving you, Ralph!” They both laughed.

“Richard Chamberlain.” Nora sighed. “He was one hunk of burning love.”

“Yet you married me,” Gino said.

Nora gave Gino a playful shove. “I never cared for the celebrity lifestyle.”

“I’m more of a Harrison Ford type,” Adaline said. “Tie me up and put your whip to good use!”

“That’s Indiana Jones,” Luke said.

“Your point? It’s still the same yummy man.”

One look from Nora shut down Adaline’s narrative.

Emerson took the manila envelope from the box and peered inside. “There’s photos in here.”

“Oh, let me see.” Nora took a seat at the dining table. “Bring them over here and we’ll spread them out.”

Everyone gathered around as Nora arranged the photos loosely on the table. “Oh my, these are from Expo ‘86! Remember that trip?”

“Oh yeah. So would Luke.” Gino disappeared into the new office.

Rosabelle leaned in to a photo of a roller coaster, all the people seated in it holding onto their chest restraints for dear life. “Is that the Scream Machine?”

“It sure is. And that...” Nora pointed to one particular rider. “That is Luke.”

Emerson moved in for a closer look. “Wow. I can’t do roller coasters. They give me the creeps.”

Luke and Gino returned from the office, Gino holding another box containing more photos in envelopes.

Rosabelle pulled Luke close and pointed at the roller coaster photo. “Look at you. Such a daredevil.”

“Maybe when I was in my twenties,” Luke said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead on a roller coaster now.”

Emerson moved the photos around and pulled one out from underneath the others. “Who’s this?”

Nora took the photo and smiled. “Oh my word. Gino. Look. It’s Beverly.”

Gino gave a cursory glance at the photo as he dug through the new collection of photos. “Oh yes. Beverly.”

Emerson looked at Rosabelle, then at Nora. “Who’s Beverly?”

“Maybe you can answer that, Luke?” Nora said.

Emerson regarded her father with curiosity. “Dad?”

“Beverly was a girl I knew growing up in Calgary.”

“She was more than that.” Nora tapped Luke’s arm and shifted her gaze to Emerson. “Beverly was your father’s first girlfriend.”

Emerson’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Beverly and Luke, sittin’ in a tree...,” Adaline sang.

Luke glared at his sister, daggers in his eyes. “Hardly,” he said. “It was only one summer and after she moved away from Calgary, I hardly saw her anymore.”

“Come on, Dad.” Emerson handed him the photo, the one he had remembered instantly from before. “The way she’s looking at you? And this isn’t Calgary.” She flipped the photo over. “It’s the PNE, 1980. You were... sixteen.”

“That’s the look, the look of love.” Adaline did her best to capture ABC’s “The Look Of Love.”

Luke ignored her and shrugged. “What can I say?”

“Luke Hacker, the player,” Rosabelle teased.

“Come on,” Luke said.

“Breaking hearts left and right.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I know.” Rosabelle hugged Luke tight and kissed his cheek.

Nora scrunched her brows. “What was her last name?”

“Shaffer,” Gino said without looking up from his own box of memories.

Luke nodded. “Dad’s right.”

“Beverly Shaffer.” Nora paused and let her thoughts take over for a moment. “Do you know what she’s doing now?”

Luke shook his head. “Haven’t got a clue.”

“Hey, look at this one.” Gino pulled out a photo from an ordered collection of dated envelopes. “Luke as a baby.”

The entire family pulled their chairs close to the table, leaving behind the remaining work in favour of taking a walk down memory lane. Gino integrated the newly found photos into the appropriate spots in the official collection, including the one of Luke and Beverly.

No one realized it during the moment, but a new chapter of their lives had just begun. And as Luke returned to the office to finish setting up his parents’ computer, he found himself thinking the same thing that his mother had just wondered. What is Beverly Shaffer doing now?

– 5 –

After circling the sun sixty-one times, Luke had begun to feel the slowdown in his life. He still worked for himself and ran his own company, Hacker Consulting Ltd. He used his knowledge of programming languages and graphic design to provide custom application and website solutions for corporate clients. And he avoided generative AI like the plague. The work kept his brain sharp, that and daily walks around the neighbourhood to the summit of PKOLS, and back.

He tried to keep his weekends unstructured for the most part. There were always regular chores that needed doing, but he did make a point of enjoying his free time. He spent most of it either alone, puttering in his basement workshop, or with Rosabelle, shopping, going for walks, or taking in dinner and a movie. And a little fooling around never hurt.

Luke had barely finished his Saturday morning waffle, coffee, and fresh fruit salad when the phone rang. Rosabelle picked it up on her way to the porch. He knew who it was from the look on her face.

“Hi Xander... I’m good. You?” Rosabelle glanced at Luke and raised her eyebrows as if to ask You want to take this?

Luke looked at the digital clock on the stove. 10:20 a.m. After brief consideration, he nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

“Yeah, I think he’s available. Just a second.” She handed the phone to him, waved, and mouthed, “Sorry.”

Luke swallowed his bite of waffle. “Hey, what’s up?”

Xander’s voice crackled through the cordless phone’s speaker. “I’ve got some free time. Want to grab a coffee?”

Luke eyed his half-full coffee cup and warmed his free hand on it. “Sure. When were you thinking?”

“I’m like two minutes away,” Xander said. “I can pick you up. We can hit Timmy’s. Sound good?”

“I, uh, I mean sure.”

“Great. See you in a few.”

The phone line clicked and went dead in Luke’s ear. He crammed the rest of his waffle into his mouth and washed it down with his remaining coffee. He covered his fruit salad and set it in the fridge. It would have to wait.

Luke had met Xander several years ago while looking for a used car for Emerson at the local Nissan dealership.

Rosabelle disliked him immediately. “Too bossy,” she had said.

Luke agreed to go for coffee afterward as a thank you for helping with the car purchase. He discovered later that Xander had inserted himself into the sales transaction so he could get part of the commission.

Much in the same way, Xander inserted himself casually into Luke’s life. Their friendship felt like one of convenience, never truly mutual. Whenever they were hanging out, Xander liked to be in control, whether it was driving places or choosing a destination. And he believed that Tim Hortons coffee was the best in the world. Luke preferred local coffee shops that maintained more control over the coffee they brewed, especially those that could make a good espresso, but he and Rosabelle had agreed that Tim Hortons wasn’t the worst. Of course, he would never tell Xander that.

True to his word, Xander showed up before Luke had had a chance to put on his hiking shoes, roaring into the driveway in a black 1982 Ford Mustang.

Luke grabbed his well worn baseball hat with the “Commodore 64” logo embroidered on the front and stepped out of the house to see Xander already engaging in small talk with Rosabelle from his open driver-side door. He wore a moth-eaten and stained Metallica T-shirt and unflattering navy blue leggings that really should not have seen the light of day. Ever. Leggings could work for some men, but Xander’s pear-shaped physique wasn’t one of them. It also meant that it was laundry day for Xander. For a sixty-one year old man, he lived and dressed like a twenty-five-year-old bachelor, and he seemed oblivious to how ridiculous it appeared.

Luke swooped in and gave Rosabelle a kiss. “I’ll be back in about an hour or so.”

“Whenever,” Rosabelle said. “Love you.”

“Love you, too. Always.” Luke climbed into the Mustang and buckled himself in.

Xander cranked the ignition and punched the gas, revving the engine with a loud rumble and surely waking anyone else still sleeping in the immediate neighbourhood.

There were easily a dozen Tim Hortons in Victoria, and they arrived at the nearest one ten minutes later.

Xander ordered two coffees and brought them to the table Luke had staked out. Luke had his wallet out to contribute but Xander waved him off.

“Two coffees ain’t going to break the bank,” Xander said. It was what he always said. “You can get the next one.” He always said that too, but the next one never seemed to happen.

“So...,” he said as he ran a comb through his thinning hair. “How’s business? Still got clients trickling in?”

“I can’t complain. Software makes the world go round.” Luke rarely shared the details of his business with anyone other than Rosabelle. “How about you?”

“Sold two Pathfinders last week.” He rubbed his finger and thumb together to indicate money. “I’m on track for a bonus this month.”

Luke could hear Rosabelle’s voice in his head. “Xander’s always competing with you.” As time matched forward, the more he agreed with the sentiment.

“Hey, got a question for you.”

Xander sipped his coffee. “Shoot.”

“A few days ago, I ran across an old photo of myself as a teenager. I was with this other girl, not Rosabelle.”

“Was she hot?”

“What? I mean she was pretty and all, but that’s beside the point,” Luke said. “Has that ever happened to you?”

“I can’t remember that far back. And any photos I might have had from back then are long gone. I don’t even have my high school yearbooks anymore.” Sentimentality was lost on Xander.

“Okay, hypothetically speaking, how would you feel about finding a photo like that?”

Xander shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On if I was dating this chick back then.” A devious grin spread across his face. “So, were you? Doing the nasty?”

Luke gave his coffee a stir and took a sip. “No. We were just friends.”

“You know, that’s such bullshit.”

Luke just stared back.

“Men and women can’t be friends. It’s biologically impossible,” Xander said. “That goes for teenagers too, with all those hormones raging through their bodies.”

“I had a few friends in high school that were girls.”

“And I bet you had secret desires for all of them.”

“No,” Luke said.

Xander laughed. “Come on. Admit it. You wanted to fuck them all. There’s always going to be an undercurrent of lust.”

“Honestly, there wasn’t,” Luke said. “That’s not to say that things couldn’t have developed into something more, but it didn’t and that was perfectly fine with me.”

“You and I had very different high school experiences.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember that far back.”

“I remember enough.” Xander pumped his fist back and forth and lowered his voice. “If you know what I mean.” He grinned and nodded.

The photo of Beverly at the PNE, the way she had looked at him in that instant, flooded his mind.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Luke said. “Maybe nothing.”

“You should stalkbook her.” When Luke didn’t respond immediately, Xander continued. “You know, look for her on Facebook, do a reverse image search, all that stuff.”

“I’m guessing you’ve done that before?”

“A couple of times over the years,” Xander said. “But I choose to live in the present.”

Luke dismissed the idea. “I don’t think it would work. The photo is forty-five years old.”

“But you’ve got her name. That’s better than nothing,” Xander said. “Especially if she didn’t get married.” Xander leaned across the small table. “Does Rosabelle know?”

Luke finished his coffee. “Yeah.”

“Damn.” Xander leaned back and let out a sigh. “Watch out, buddy. That could really implode on you.”

“Rosabelle and I have been together for thirty-five years. We can survive friendships between men and women.”

Xander crossed his arms indicating that he believed he had won this discussion. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Luke found it difficult to believe that men and women couldn’t be friends. He went through his acquaintances in his head, skipping everyone family- and business-related, and quickly discovered that his small network of friends was entirely male. Maybe Xander was right.

But maybe Xander was wrong.

– 6 –

It had been a few days since Luke’s coffee with Xander. Normally their conversations were inconsequential, lacking substance and staying power. Just typical shoot-the-shit stuff. But Xander’s insistence that men and women couldn’t be friends had stuck in Luke’s head. It was beginning to affect his work.

He prepared himself an afternoon coffee and stood in front of the kitchen window, sipping it slowly.

Rosabelle came in from the patio and immediately recognized Luke’s brooding. Most would have thought he was watching something strange in the back yard, but after thirty-five years, reading her husband was second nature.

“Are those bunnies making babies again?” She meant to distract and disarm whatever it was that was bothering him.

Luke blinked and looked at her. “What? Uh, no. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

Luke left the kitchen and strolled to the living room couch. “Come. Sit.”

Alarm bells rang in Rosabelle’s head. Even she was unprepared for that response. “Should I be worried?”

They both sat and Luke placed his mug on the coffee table. “So... something came up when I went to Tim Hortons with Xander last weekend.”

Rosabelle watched Luke’s face for clues about what was coming but came up empty, which worried her. With regards to Xander, it could be anything.

“We were talking and I posed the question if men and women can be friends, you know, platonic,” Luke said. “He said no. Absolutely not. What do you think?”

Rosabelle found Luke’s eyes with hers. “Where’s this coming from?”

Luke broke her gaze and Rosabelle wasn’t sure if it was because of guilt, shame, or something else.

“Remember that photo from last Friday?”

Rosabelle knew immediately what photo he was referring to. “The one at the PNE, with you and that girl...”

“Beverly,” Luke said. “Yes.”

“What about it?” Rosabelle could feel her body tensing up, but surely she had nothing to be worried about.

“I was thinking about reconnecting,” Luke said. “Or trying to.”

Their marriage had survived far more serious challenges than this, but not during the age of social media, where texting and video calls made it so easy to have an emotional affair with someone else.

“Why?” Rosabelle asked. “Is your life lacking?”

“Of friends, yes.” Luke took her hands and she let him. “You know I’ve always had a hard time making friends.”

“What about Xander?” Rosabelle knew the answer before she had finished asking the question.

“Xander just kind of happened. He’s a friend but I wouldn’t say he’s a good friend.”

“He’s loyal,” Rosabelle said. “And you were his best man at his wedding.”

“That’s only because I said yes.” Luke swallowed hard. “I wasn’t the first person he asked. I don’t think I was even the second or third.”

“Okay.” Rosabelle nodded slowly. She could feel her hands becoming clammy and pulled them away. “So, you want this other woman to be a friend? A good friend?”

“Man, woman, it doesn’t matter really,” Luke said. “But she’s someone I knew once. We were good friends back then. The connection might be gone forever, but it might not be.”

“What about poker night? Those guys are your friends, aren’t they?”

“I see them more as acquaintances.” Luke clasped his hands on his lap. “I think they’re only in it for the money. Besides Xander, I doubt they even know my last name.”

“Friendship is a two-way street, hon.”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe I should try a bit harder.”

He looked at her and Rosabelle could feel his eyes searching, wondering what she thought.

“So... can men and women be friends...” She took a moment to consider the question. “Sure. Although I’d guess that a lot of people would disagree.”

“Like Xander,” they both said in unison, and laughed.

“But he’s like a teenager in an old man’s body,” Rosabelle said. “His divorce is not a surprise considering his opinion on this. He had an affair, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

Rosabelle took Luke’s hands even though they were still sweaty. “Hon, I have lots of friends and coworkers at the hospital. You know it’s my job to manage them all. Many are men. I’ve gone for coffee with a few of them. You know this. You’ve even met some of them at Christmas parties over the years.”

Luke sighed. “So, you’re okay with it?”

Rosabelle smiled. “Platonic friendships make life richer. And I want to see you happy. So yeah, I’m okay with it.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad we can talk about things like this,” Rosabelle said.

“Me too.” Luke took a sip from his coffee. “Cold. I could make a fresh pot. Want some?”

“That’d be nice,” Rosabelle said. “Thanks.”

Luke kissed her and went back to the kitchen to brew another carafe of coffee. Rosabelle sat for a moment wondering if she had opened a can of worms or not. On rare occasions like this, she relied on their history together to quell her doubts. Luke had had many clients that were women over the years, meeting to discuss project details and communicating through phone calls and texts. A client wasn’t exactly a friend, but there had never been any issue. The fact that he had felt a need to bring up this particular woman made it feel different, like it meant something more.

In the kitchen, she heard Luke fill the basket of the coffee machine with dark roast and set it to brew. The familiar gurgling and hissing began followed by sounds of Luke lining up mugs on the counter.

As she had done over their long and stable relationship, Rosabelle chose to rely on trust. She stood up from the couch and joined Luke in the kitchen. He was facing the window again, lost in thought, as the coffee machine worked its magic.

Luke turned to look at her. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Emerson entered through the front door. His eyes shifted back and forth between the foyer and Rosabelle. “Look, if this is going to be an issue whatsoever, I’ll drop it.”

“It won’t be,” Rosabelle said, hopping up to sit on the kitchen island.

Emerson strolled past them and grabbed a croissant from the bread box, tearing it apart hungrily. “It won’t be what?” She took a bite, then reached into the cupboard and grabbed a mug for herself. “Enough for three cups, Dad?”

Luke nodded.

Emerson stopped chewing and looked at her parents. “What’s going on? I’m sensing a vibe.”

Rosabelle and Luke exchanged glances. “It would be good to get Em’s opinion, right?”

After a moment of consideration, Luke nodded. “Sure.”

“What?” Emerson said. “You’re freaking me out.”

Rosabelle faced her. “Do you think men and women can be friends, platonically speaking, without the intimacy?”

Emerson popped another piece of croissant into her mouth and paused to think. “Friendships can be intimate, you know, right?”

“Okay,” Rosabelle said. “Without the romance and sex, then. Is it possible?”

“Sure. I’m friends with lots of guys,” Emerson said. “But I also know plenty of guys that could never handle a friendship with a woman. They’re too immature.”

Luke and Rosabelle grinned at each other. “Like Xander, for instance,” Rosabelle said.

“Oh yeah. He’s a whore. I don’t know what you see in him, Dad. Honestly.”

“He gets me out of the house,” Luke said.

Emerson’s croissant crumbled in her fingers. “That’s a pretty low bar.”

“Making friends in your twilight years is difficult.” Luke pulled the carafe from the coffee machine and filled the three mugs. “Remember that.”

Emerson scooped two heaping teaspoons of sugar into her coffee. “So... you’re wanting to make new friends... that are women?”

“Remember that old photo of dad and that girl we found at Gramma and Grampa’s place?”

“Yeah, your girlfriend.” Emerson blew on her coffee, then took a sip.

“No,” Luke said. “She was my friend, my best friend at the time, but she wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“Your dad wants to reconnect. To try,” Rosabelle said.

Emerson looked at them both. “Cool.”

“You’d be okay with that?”

“Sure.” Emerson licked crumbs from her fingers.

“Would you ever consider contacting a guy from high school, just for friendship?”

“Mom, I’m friends with some of my exes. It’s not like I’m going to hop into bed with them. It’s a non-issue. I’ve moved on. They have too.” Emerson set her coffee mug down and her face drew serious. “You guys trust each other?”

“Absolutely,” Luke said.

Rosabelle nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Emerson said. “Don’t overcomplicate things. The world is complex enough as it is.”

“Thanks, Em.” Rosabelle pulled Emerson into a brief hug and kissed her head. “Whoever raised you did an excellent job.”

Emerson grabbed her coffee and headed toward the stairs. “I thank that pack of wolves every day.” She laughed as she ascended to her room.

Rosabelle took Luke’s face in her hands. “Are we good?”

Luke smiled back. “Yup.”

They kissed, then parted. Rosabelle still saw distance in Luke’s eyes but chose trust to carry her through. However, a small cloud of doubt lurked in the back of her mind, too.

– 7 –

Luke’s heart wasn’t into the poker game that night, but he had no good excuse not to go. Xander was hosting and that meant lots of snacks and drinks, a reasonable incentive. Rosabelle said getting out of the house would do him good, and she was always right. The usual guys were there, Henry and Jack, both coworkers at the same Nissan dealership as Xander. They had been gathering to play poker once or twice a month ever since Luke had met Xander.

Henry still wore his work clothes, a dress shirt one size too small, straining the collar with a necktie that should have cut off the circulation to his brain but somehow didn’t.

Jack was considerably more laid back, wearing a denim shirt, the first couple of buttons undone, and jeans. Luke had nicknamed him to Rosabelle as “Levi”. She called him “Snake” because he bore a striking resemblance to Kurt Russell. An eye patch would have completed the transformation.

They had been playing for just over an hour and it was Luke’s turn to deal. He laid out the cards one by one, and everyone picked up their hands. Henry kept his cards inches away from his face, hoping to hide his face and any potential tells. It didn’t work. Henry’s eyes plus the reflections on his glasses always betrayed him. Jack was more relaxed with his cards, as if winning or losing wasn’t that important. And Xander always played to win.

After a round of discards, everyone placed their bets, then laid down their cards. Jack held a full house and took the pot.

“Shit.” Luke tossed his cards into the centre of the table.

“You greedy bastard,” Xander said to Jack. “Next round I’m gonna clean your clock.” He went to the fridge. “Anyone want another beer?”

Henry and Jack chimed in.

“Luke, buddy?”

“Club soda?”

“Right.” Xander scanned the fridge and hooked his fingers around three beers. “You’re one of the weird ones that don’t drink. Best I can do is a Pepsi.”

“That’s fine.”

Xander returned to the table and handed out the drinks.He twisted off his bottle cap, took a long pull, and belched. “Oh, hey, Luke, did you find that chick?”

Henry paused dealing out cards.

“Not the time or—”

Xander ignored Luke and leaned toward Henry. “Get this. Luke’s got this hot chick he’s interested in, for friendship only.”

“Xander, I’m sitting right here,” Luke said.

“Yeah.” Xander drank from his beer. “And you’re going to give us the dirt.”

Luke shook his head slowly, his anger and disappointment at Xander evident on his face. “Nothing to tell.”

“Come on,” Henry said. “Don’t leave us hanging.”

“Luke thinks men and women can be friends.” Xander glanced at Jack and Henry. “I mean who’s he kidding. Am I right?”

Jack shrugged. “I have lots of friends who are women. What’s the big deal?”

Luke raised his hands in agreement. “Exactly!”

“I just don’t think it’s possible,” Xander said. “Seriously. My mind would be in the gutter all the time.” He turned to Henry. “What about you?”

Henry shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Xander wasn’t having it. “You mean to say if Cherise at the dealership wanted to be your friend and just your friend, you’d be into that?”

Henry grinned sheepishly. “Probably not.”

“I know, right?” Xander cupped his hands in front of his chest. “Jesus Christ, her rack is spectacular.”

Henry laughed then immediately stopped when he realized Luke and Jack weren’t joining in. Embarrassment rose in his cheeks.

“That’s why you’re divorced and single.” Jack had said what Luke was thinking.

Anger flashed in Xander’s eyes, just for a moment. “No, I just love life too much.”

“You’re not a teenager anymore,” Jack said.

“Apparently my libido is.”

“Grow up, Xander.” Jack stared at him across the table. “This narrow-minded view of yours is limiting your growth.”

Xander drank from his beer, then slammed the bottle on the table and hooked his thumb toward the entrance. “There’s the fucking door.”

“Okay guys,” Luke said. “Hold up. Can we agree to disagree?”

Jack and Xander glared at each other.

Luke faced Xander. “Look. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do. But I do think I could be friends.”

“Damn straight.” Jack held out his fist and Luke bumped it.

Xander scoffed. “Good luck getting that past your wife.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

“We all know who wears the pants in your family.”

Luke gritted his teeth and held Xander’s gaze for a moment, giving him an opportunity to apologize. When none came, he excused himself from the table.

“I’m going to head out,” Luke said. “I’ve got an early morning.” He shoved his winnings into his pocket and grabbed his coat.

“I’ll join you,” Jack said, collecting his belongings.

Xander watched the two of them leave. “You’re both gutless—”

Luke stopped and pointed back at Xander. “Be careful what you say next.”

“Or what?” Xander said.

Luke and Jack stepped out the front entrance and closed the door behind them.

Inside the house, they heard Xander’s muffled yell, “Or what? YOU PUSSIES!”

Luke and Jack shared a laugh and walked to their own vehicles.

“I’m sorry you have to work with them.”

Jack waved it off. “I’ll be fine. Henry’s a follower, harmless.” He pulled open his door and paused. “You know, we should go for a beer sometime. Or a beer and a club soda.” He hooked a thumb back toward Xander’s house. “Leave the kids at home.”

“Sounds good,” Luke said.

“I’ll give you a call, set something up.”

The two men nodded at each other as they drove off in opposite directions. Despite Xander’s tantrum, showing up for poker night had been a good idea. Rosabelle had been right. And identifying some common ground with Jack may have opened a door to a new friendship.

– 8 –

While Luke was out, Rosabelle’s mind wandered to places that she never expected. Deep down she knew that Luke was forever devoted to her and to their marriage, but the hold Beverly Shaffer had on him set a worry fluttering in the back of her mind.

She made herself some tea and tried to watch one of her shows. CBC’s Heartland was a particular favorite. When that failed to distract her, Rosabelle tried stretching out on the couch and reading the next chapter in her latest thriller, This Much Is True by Jane Sanderson. It didn’t work. Even page-turners had no power over her burgeoning imagination.

She heard Emerson rattling around upstairs before descending to the main floor.

“I’m heading out,” she said as she pulled on her shoes.

Rosabelle spoke without making eye contact. “Study group?”

“No, just drinks. Maybe dancing after.”

“Make smart choices.”

Emerson tilted her head at her. “Mom, I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“I know, but I’ll always be a parent.” Rosabelle turned to look at her. “You’ll understand what I mean someday.”

Emerson narrowed her eyes. “Are you okay? You seem...”

“Don’t say ‘old’ if you know what’s good for you.”

“I was going to say ‘distant.’ ”

Rosabelle sighed and shook her head. “I’m just being dramatic. Go. Enjoy your night.”

Concern clouded Emerson’s eyes. “You sure?”

“Absolutely,” Rosabelle said. “I’m not trying to guilt-trip you.”

Emerson sat on the edge of the couch next to Rosabelle’s legs. “What’s going on?”

Rosabelle shielded her eyes with her forearm. “Ugh. Now I feel sixteen.”

“Just spill it, Mom,” Emerson said. “You know you can talk to me.”

“It’s about what we were talking about earlier.”

Emerson took a moment to recall their conversation. “The whole men and women being friends thing? What about it?”

“Your dad is pretty preoccupied with that woman from his past.”

“Beverly.”

“Yeah.”

“He didn’t even go to school with her though, right?”

Rosabelle nodded.

“So, there’s no school yard crush happening,” Emerson said. “Sounds like she’s a lasting memory for him. And you know, when you get older, your memory’s the first to go.”

“Them’s fighting words!” Rosabelle gave her daughter a playful shove.

“Seriously though, Mom. He probably doesn’t want to forget her. You must have memories you don’t want to forget. I know I do.”

“I’m okay with your dad having women friends. Truly I am. But...”

Emerson raised her brows, waiting for Rosabelle to continue.

“But I’m still a bit worried.”

“Clearly. But worried about what? That he’d leave you for her?”

Hearing the words out loud shot a wave a fear through Rosabelle’s body. “He wouldn’t do that, would he?”

Emerson tried to give her mother a reassuring smile. “Dad loves you. One-hundred percent. Your relationship is rock solid. It inspires me. It’s something I hope to find for myself someday.”

Rosabelle took Emerson’s hand. “Thank you. But what if... Beverly... has more power over him than me?”

“You’ve got thirty-four years—”

“Thirty-five.”

“Right,” Emerson said. “Beverly has what? Two months when Dad was twelve. Leaving you for that would be crazy.”

“People do crazy things all the time.”

“Mom.” Emerson locked her gaze with Rosabelle. “I don’t want to minimize your worry, but we both know Dad would never do that. End of story.”

Rosabelle smiled and nodded. “You’re right. How’d you get so wise?”

“I have the best parents on the planet.” Emerson leaned in and wrapped her arms tightly around her. “I love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Rosabelle pulled back and caressed Emerson’s cheek. “Go. Have fun. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I can stay if you need me to.”

Rosabelle shook her head. “I’m sure. You really helped.”

“Okay.” Emerson stood and opened the front door. “I won’t be too late. Bye.”

They waved and Emerson eased the front door closed. Rosabelle thanked the universe for providing what she needed when she needed it and went back to her book. Twenty minutes later she heard the car pull into the driveway. Luke was home.

Rosabelle listened to the car door close and the familiar footsteps approach the front door. Luke stepped inside and slid off his coat, hanging it on the newel post. He lowered himself to give her a kiss.

“You’re home early,” Rosabelle said.

“Yeah, some shit went down.”

“Do tell!”

Luke pointed at Rosabelle’s half full mug of tea. “Any left?”

“I brewed a pot.”

He beckoned for her mug. “I’ll warm you up.”

“I bet you will.”

Luke chuckled and took Rosabelle’s mug to the kitchen. Sounds of him refreshing her mug and pouring one for himself floated back to the living room. He returned her mug, then lifted her legs so he could join her on the couch with her legs propped on his lap.

“So, what happened?”

Luke blew on his tea, then took a sip. “The evening was rolling along just fine until Xander brought up Beverly and the whole men and women being friends stuff.”

Rosabelle noted how relaxed it was for Luke to mention Beverly in casual conversation. “And?”

“Xander was his usual self.”

“A misogynist, you mean?”

“Yeah. And he doubled-down on it. Called me and Jack pussies,” Luke said. “Curious thing though. Jack... Have you met Jack? Jack Seeley?”

Rosabelle thought for a moment, then grinned. “It’s been a long time since you guys played poker here. Dead ringer for Kurt Russell?”

“Yup.”

“Snake Plissken.” Rosabelle let her lips emphasize the s’s.

Luke gave her a curious glance and continued. “Jack works at the dealership with Xander. I don’t envy him now, after everything that happened, but tonight he sided with me. Looks like we’re on the same page, at least with this friendship thing.”

Rosabelle grinned at him. “See? Going tonight was a good idea.”

“Yup. For sure.” Luke took another sip of his tea. “And it got me thinking I may have just made a friend, perhaps a better one than Xander.”

“Honestly, that wouldn’t be hard.”

“So that makes two potential friends on the horizon.”

“Two?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah. Jack and Beverly. I’d like to reach out to both.”

Rosabelle took a large gulp of tea as if it might protect her from whatever might be coming next.

“I’ve already got Jack’s contact info, but Beverly is a mystery.”

Rosabelle secretly hoped Beverly had married and changed her name. “Maybe the universe is telling you something.”

“Wait.” Luke locked his eyes on hers. “You’re still okay with this, right?”

Rosabelle returned a halfhearted nod disguised behind her mug.

“It’s still just a fact-finding mission,” Luke said. “I promise to talk to you before I contact her... if I contact her.”

“Luke. It’s okay, love.” Rosabelle reached out and squeezed his hand lightly. “We trust each other, and that’s everything.”

“Just didn’t want things to get weird.”

Little late for that, thought Rosabelle. “Want to watch Heartland with me?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Rosabelle grabbed the remote and restarted the episode from the beginning. Their play-by-play carried on through the entire episode, just has they had done together for the show’s nineteen season run so far. And as hard as Rosabelle tried to ignore it, there was now an undercurrent named Beverly between them, one she selfishly hoped would fade away to nothing.

– 9 –

The following morning, after Rosabelle had left for her shift at the hospital, Luke decided to leave reading the paper for later. Instead, he carried his coffee up to his office, booted his computer, and got to work.

The only way the search for Beverly was going to work was if Luke assumed that she had kept her maiden name. If she had married and taken her partner’s last name, all he’d have to go on would be his memories and a decades-old photograph. Most of his memories from his time as a teenager had faded away, except for a few, including those of Beverly. But they’d be useless today.

Luke heard Xander pop into his head, spouting advice about Facebook and image searching. And as much as he disliked Xander telling him what to do, he had given Luke a good place to start.

He pulled out his phone, found the PNE photo, and cropped it closely to Beverly’s sixteen-year-old face. He sent the image to Google Lens and discovered that it blocked facial searching, likely for safety reasons.

Luke found a few other websites that specialized in facial recognition and all of them returned results. However, due to Beverly’s face being in profile, the search had little to go on and returned inaccurate matches. This came as no surprise, but he had to rule it out.

He focused on the low hanging fruit next: Facebook. Into the search field Luke entered “Beverly Shaffer” and narrowed it by people. There were dozens of results, each with a small avatar. Some contained faces, others featured animals and other images. Checking each one would take a monstrous amount of time. He scrolled until his finger started to get numb but didn’t see anything remotely familiar.

But why would things be familiar? It had been forty-five years since he had last seen Beverly. He wouldn’t have recognized himself at sixty-one when he was sixteen. Or would he?

Luke entered “Beverly Shaffer Vancouver” into the search field and the list was reduced to five matches. He had never experienced good results within Facebook before. The results it returned were designed to keep people on the website. However, five results were manageable.

He clicked on the first two matches, but their ages did not fit his timeline. The third match was an inactive account and the fourth, although the name and city matched, the woman was Black.

Luke was beginning to lose faith, but the fifth match revealed one more piece of the puzzle he was trying to solve. He clicked on the link to her profile page and enlarged her avatar.

When searching for someone based on a photo, sometimes the brain played tricks and made one see a match that wasn’t really there. It was like the mind filled in the gaps in order to make a positive identification and get that hit of dopamine.

But this was the Beverly that he was looking for. He knew it instantly, just as he had with the PNE photo.

Her golden hair of youth had darkened to a soft brown, and he could spot the odd wrinkle on her face, around her eyes and mouth, much like his own face had weathered over the years. He hoped that the lines had come from laughter instead of worry. Next to her in her avatar picture was a younger woman.

Facebook said she lived in North Vancouver, which unlocked a core memory of visiting her when his family had moved from Calgary to Victoria. Try as he might, he couldn’t picture the house or street.

Luke scrolled through her timeline and felt a little guilty, like he was invading her privacy, even though she had locked down the privacy of her Facebook profile pretty tightly. Her timeline showed only the details she wanted people to see. There was no school or post-secondary information, no friends list, no relationship status, no job history. Nothing. The few photos she had posted publicly showed that she was still active outdoors, had a daughter, and had a golden lab named Nacho. But her timeline stopped in July 2020, which coincided with the COVID-19 pandemic.

A chilling thought ripped through Luke.

Could she have died from COVID?

At this point anything was possible. He had known people younger than him who had died during the pandemic. It was a scary time for everyone. Even though Luke hadn’t seen or heard from Beverly in nearly fifty years, the thought that she might have died ran cold through his mind. That couldn’t be the end. There must be another reason.

Luke loaded up Notepad++ on his PC and entered some notes on what he had found so far. He switched to LinkedIn and searched for Beverly there. To his surprise, he did find a listing for her in North Vancouver, working at a satellite office of a large health corporation, but again her work history ended mid-2020 with no further updates.

Five years was a long time and a lot could happen. Luke knew that the mystery of what had happened to Beverly would eat away at him. One way or another, he had to find out for sure. He took the next logical and necessary step: search the obituaries.

– 10 –

Luke sat in front of his computer, stuck in his head. In a way, his situation resembled the thought experiment Schrödinger’s Cat, where a hypothetical cat in a closed box could be described as both alive and dead at the same time. Only the action of opening the box revealed the true fate of the creature.

Stopping his search for Beverly would keep his memory of her alive. Pictures of her then and now, thanks to her Facebook photos, would allow him to construct a limited version of her life based on his mostly faded memories.

But if Luke continued his search, he risked learning of her possible death, perhaps because of the COVID pandemic. He took a moment to think and decided that either alive or dead, he could envision a happy life for her. And knowing would be better than having no information at all.

Luke called up Legacy.com and searched for “Beverly Shaffer.” He crossed his fingers and hoped for zero matches. After a second, a list of 93 results displayed on screen. When the first result listed a woman from New York, NY, he realized he had not narrowed by newspaper. He entered “Times Colonist” and clicked “refine.”

Zero results.

Luke breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. He had made a critical error. The Times Colonist served Victoria, not Vancouver. He repeated the search on Remembering.ca and one result displayed.

Luke’s heart nearly skipped a beat. He clicked on the result and saw that the obituary was over ten years old and the woman was seventy-nine.

“That’s not the Beverly I know,” Luke whispered to himself.

Out of curiosity, he searched for Beverly’s mother and father, Marika and Bernhard. To his surprise, both had died, Marika of a heart attack in 1999 and Bernhard of pancreatic cancer in 2004. Their deaths reminded Luke how different his life had played out. Not having his parents in his life for the past twenty years felt unimaginable. Yet Beverly had survived the loss.

He revisited Beverly’s Facebook profile and estimated her daughter’s age to early to mid twenties. There was a good chance that her daughter had never known her grandmother, possibly her grandfather too.

A wave of sadness washed over him. From what he remembered as a twelve-year-old in Calgary, Marika and Bernhard were kind and loving parents to Beverly and always welcoming when he’d visit their house during their summer of 1976. The idea that they were dead and his parents were still alive seemed very cruel.

Soon, his guilt replaced his sadness. Had Beverly sent an email or a letter, either directly to him or to the house on Cantwell?

The years 1999 through 2004 saw Luke newly married to Rosabelle and the birth of Emerson. His programming career had taken off and life was busy, but surely not too busy for him to send flowers and a note of condolence. But he had no memory of Beverly’s parents’ passing. Either she had notified him and he had forgotten, or she hadn’t notified him at all. Forgetting would have been unforgivable, so he chose to believe the latter.

Luke jumped back to Beverly’s parent’s obituaries. There was no mention of her partner in either writeup, and in Bernhard’s writeup, he was referred to as “father to Beverly and grandfather to Dallas.”

The dates worked. The young woman next to Beverly in her Facebook avatar must be Dallas, her daughter, born between 1999 and 2004 and making her between twenty-one and twenty-six years of age. Even with the low resolution of the avatar, Luke could see that they shared the same eyes.

Luke added this detail to his notes, pleased by it even though he had to navigate sadness and guilt to get there. His heart ached for Beverly. He could not imagine how huge a loss it would be to lose Gino and Nora, and so far, life had blessed him with healthy parents that continued to thrive.

But doubts began to seep in. Is attempting contact a smart idea? From his limited knowledge about Beverly, it seemed like their lives were worlds apart. Would contact make things better or worse?

Luke decided that if approached the right way, it couldn’t hurt to try. But he didn’t want to use social media. Beverly’s Facebook profile felt unintentionally abandoned and any messages sent there would probably go unanswered. It would be his last resort. He preferred a phone number or an address if possible, preferably both.

It was a tall order. With the proliferation of cell phones and increased privacy concerns in the last twenty years, finding phone numbers and their associated addresses had become increasingly difficult.

Luke called up Canada411.ca in his web browser and entered the information he knew. Filtering for “North Vancouver” reduced the results to 31. However, they were all partial matches, either for “Beverly” or “Shaffer” but not both.

He knew the search wouldn’t be easy, but Luke began to wonder if the Universe was trying to tell him something. Then something Gino had said to him many years ago leaped to the front of his mind. Luke had forgotten the context, but not the sentiment.

Nothing good comes easy.

Luke had applied that advice to many aspects of his life, including business and relationships. Why couldn’t it apply to friendship as well.

Then instead of dwelling on dark thoughts, another idea came to him. What if Beverly had gotten married and changed her name? That could be one explanation for an abandoned Facebook profile and the lack of address results.

He took the names listed on Canada411.ca and cross-referenced them on Facebook, narrowing to North Vancouver. The process was long and tedious, and as the evening wore on, Luke could feel the lack of results eating away at his resolve. Reliable contact information again proved elusive. But backing down now would mean forever not knowing and he didn’t think he could bear that.

He shut his computer off and went down to the kitchen. A mug of tea and peanut butter on toast would cap the night off nicely. He set the kettle to boil, popped a slice of multigrain into the toaster, and grabbed the Adams Creamy from the fridge. Luke pulled out his phone to pass the time and found himself on Facebook, scrolling through Beverly’s abandoned profile.

There weren’t many pictures and even fewer comments. It didn’t take long before he reached the end of the profile’s timeline. Then another thought struck him. Perhaps her profile had just been a temporary stopgap during the pandemic. Going online was an easy way to stay in contact with people. And once the government had lifted social distancing restrictions, there wouldn’t be any point in continuing.

By contrast, Luke’s business centered on web programming and app development. He spent a lot of his day online, so Facebook was always there, an extension of himself, a necessary evil.

He poured boiling water into a teapot and spread peanut butter on his toast while he waited for the tea to steep.

Emerson eased the front door open, took off her shoes, and followed her nose to the kitchen. “Something smells good.” She slipped off her coat and hung it on a chair.

“It’s just tea and toast,” Luke said. “Want some?”

Emerson nodded.

Luke cut the toast in half and gave one piece to her. “Tea as well?”

“No, thanks. I’ll never sleep tonight if I do.” Emerson took a bite of toast. “You’re up late. Working on a project?”

“You could say that.”

Emerson raised a brow and wiped a blob of peanut butter from the corner of her mouth.

Luke saw her curiosity and chuckled. “I’ve let things slide in the friendship department lately. I’m going to try and contact Beverly.” He removed the teabag, poured himself a mug, and sugared it.

“Good.” Emerson saw surprise in her father’s face. “Life’s too short not to have friends.” She took another bite of toast.

“That’s true. And I think I’m mature enough to have friendships with women,” Luke said. “But... even though your mom says she’s okay with it, I think she might still be a little worried.”

“This is new territory for both of you. Now that you’re serious about it, there’s bound to be some anxiety.”

Luke nodded and took a slow sip of tea. “My problem is how. I really want to avoid social media. That seems so desperate to me. Any ideas?”

“Do you have her address? You could mail her a letter.” Emerson licked peanut butter from a finger. “Leave the ball in her court.”

“I spent the evening digging around and all I have is an abandoned Facebook profile.”

“How do you know it’s truly abandoned?”

Luke thought for a moment. “I guess Beverly could be using Facebook just to browse.”

“Lots of people lurk.”

“Good point,” Luke said. “But lurk for five years?”

Emerson spoke between munches. “It’s possible. She could also be posting only for her friends. To anyone else, the page looks inactive.”

“I guess so, but I still want to avoid contact through social media if I can. It feels creepy.”

“That’s because it is. Do you know where she works?”

“Not really. I found an abandoned LinkedIn profile.”

Emerson shrugged. “Maybe you need to go to the last place she worked and ask around.”

“That feels stalkery to me. Plus, I don’t think any reputable business is going to give out info on a past employee.”

“I don’t know what else to suggest, Dad,” Emerson leaned across the kitchen island and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight. And thanks for the toast.”

“Night, Em. Sleep well.”

Luke remained in the kitchen to finish his tea and toast. With his last bite, he slipped into problem-solving mode. He didn’t actually need to talk to Beverly. Just one social media post indicating that she was safe and happy would have been enough. But the fact remained that he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to see her.

By the time he came to bed, he had a lot to share with Rosabelle. He had come up with a plan and he was certain that she wasn’t going to like it. But for Luke, it was the only way forward.

– 11 –

The next morning, Luke poured himself a mug of coffee, sugared it, and sat down at the kitchen table opposite to Rosabelle. She sat immersed in the Times Colonist. He took a slow sip, as if it would fortify him and magically shield him from what he knew would be a difficult conversation. He had debated waiting until Rosabelle’s shift at the ER was over, as opposed to telling her now, but decided to rip the bandage off.

“I must find her,” Luke said. “I can’t let it go now. The not knowing combined with not giving it my all would drive me crazy.”

Rosabelle dropped the newspaper and looked at him. She stood and walked to the coffee machine to refresh her mug.

Luke recognized the disappointment in her eyes but also knew she was stalling. “Are you mad?”

Rosabelle’s shoulders rose with a deep breath, then settled as she exhaled.

“We talked about this, so you shouldn’t—”

Rosabelle turned, the kitchen island and the table between them, their battleground set, and crossed her arms against her chest. “No, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.” She shook her head. “I just don’t understand.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to restart a friendship with someone from high school?”

“Honestly, no.” Rosabelle spoke calmly, but Luke knew to pay attention to the undercurrent of anger. “That’s what reunions are for. And usually they’re reminders of why we didn’t remain friends.”

“Now reunions are off limits?”

“I didn’t say that. But you never went to school with this woman.” Rosabelle reached for her coffee and took a sip. “You haven’t seen or spoken to her in, what... forty years?”

“Forty-five.”

“Okay, forty-five years. You’re practically strangers.” Rosabelle locked her gaze on Luke. “No. You are strangers. So, the fact remains... why?”

Luke walked around the kitchen table and propped himself up on the kitchen island. “Beverly was—”

“I don’t want to hear her name, thanks.”

“Alright,” Luke said. “She was foundational. My first friend who was a girl. My first kiss. My—”

Rosabelle’s eyes widened. “You’ve kissed her? Sounds like you were more than friends.”

“Come on, Rosie. It was one kiss. I was thirteen. You’re making it sound like I kissed her yesterday. But it’s because of her that I’m with you.”

Rosabelle recoiled in surprise. “Um, what? How?”

“My definition of what I liked in a woman started with her,” Luke said. “Combine that with all the good qualities from all my exes. If I hadn’t met Bev... met her when I was thirteen, I may not have ended up with you.”

Rosabelle blinked at him. “So... I should be thanking her?”

“Maybe.” Luke grinned at her and he could sense her softening a bit. “All my experiences and decisions I’ve made led me to you. That’s not luck. It’s fate and I’m grateful for it. There’s no one else I’d rather spend my life with.”

The two of them looked at each other for a moment.

“What if she’s married?”

Luke shrugged. “It’s up to her if she wants to be friends and if her partner is okay with that. But I have to try.” He stepped around the kitchen island, took her mug and set in on the counter, and held her hands in his.

“Of course, all this is based on me actually finding her,” Luke continued. “She’s not an open book on the Internet like I am.”

“Do you think she’s ever searched for you after all this time?”

“Impossible to answer,” Luke said, “but I’d guess she has. We never forget our first.”

“So, hypothetically, if she has searched for you, why didn’t she try to reconnect then?”

“Again, I don’t know. Anything’s possible.” Luke gave Rosabelle’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Give me a week in Vancouver. If I can’t find her, that’ll be the end of it.”

“And if you do find her?” Rosabelle held his gaze. “What then?”

Luke sighed. “Hopefully I’ll have found a friend.” He moved in for a kiss and Rosabelle permitted it. Then he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her firmly. “I love you, Rosabelle. You’ll always be my one and only.”

“I love you, too, Luke.” She returned his hug with a similar intensity of her own. “When are you going?”

Luke stepped back and let his hands slide to Rosabelle’s waist. “I was planning on first thing Monday, returning the following Sunday. Is that okay?”

Rosabelle nodded.

“Are we good?” Luke found her lovely eyes.

She smiled and nodded again.

The morning had started out badly but had ended the way Luke had hoped it would.

“Communication is key,” he remembered Nora telling him on his wedding day. And the advice remained as true now as it was then. But would a week be enough time when you’re making up for lost years?

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