Chapter 16 #2
Mia lets out a nervous laugh. ‘Oh, it was nothing. Just the usual clumsiness. Sorry about your trousers. I hope the stains come out. Chocolate can be such a challenge to get out of fibres. It’s probably because it’s an enzyme, which can be harder to remove than a grease stain.
Or maybe I don’t have that quite right. Anyway …
’ To John’s immense surprise, Mia continues blabbering on about stains, her eyes flitting from Sam’s face to the room and back again as a blush creeps up her throat.
She can’t quite seem to sit still either.
Could it be that with John’s declaration still ringing in her ears, and Sam looking at her so earnestly, Mia is reconsidering her stance on her love life?
‘You missed the end of the film,’ Sam says. ‘Your favourite film.’
More nervous laughter. ‘It’s only my favourite Christmas film.
Not my favourite film film. It’s not like I walked out during the lift scene of Dirty Dancing.
Now, that would be alarming.’ Mia puts on the most insincere, over-the-top smile, but her leg is bouncing a million miles a minute.
‘I’m fine. Really! Just got a little flustered.
It’s been a long week. You don’t need to read any more into it. ’
Sam frowns. He doesn’t seem to be buying the brushoff. But he stands back up and slides his hands into his pockets. ‘It’s just that I thought there was something going on between—’
Mia gives a quick shake of her head, and flashes him a smile that John thinks is a touch too fragile.
‘It’s just Christmas, you know? It messes with your mind that’s all.
No need to make mountains out of molehills.
’ Her voice is higher pitched than usual, but she soldiers on.
‘I’ll see you at dinner. I need to finish up this paper chain. I promised Aunt Gertie.’
Sam’s eyebrows draw together, and he presses his lips into a straight line. After watching Mia for a long moment, he exhales slowly and nods. ‘OK, Mia. I’ll see you at dinner then.’ His shoulders droop a bit as he leaves the room.
‘Wow. You really took the wind out of that man’s sails,’ John says to Mia.
But she’s not listening. She’s staring after Sam, vulnerability shining on her face.
While she’s distracted, John grabs the vacant chair and sits back down.
‘And I’d love to hear more about how he doesn’t have feelings for you. ’
Mia worries her lip for a while before she directs her attention back to John. ‘You really need to stop with the meddling. He doesn’t have feelings for me. Other than a possibly mild annoyance at my existence.’
‘How would you know?’ John pushes back. Mia is so sure of herself, but from her own account, she and Sam never had much, if any, interaction after the swimming pool incident.
‘It’s not like you ever had a heart to heart with him.
As far as you’ve told me, you never spoke to him again after that night.
’ John’s eyes widen as he comes to a startling realization.
He points an accusatory finger at Mia. ‘You ghosted him!’
‘I did not!’ she rears back, full of denial. ‘I did not ghost him.’ Mia looks off into the distance as she reviews her statement. ‘I just blocked him and never spoke to him again.’
‘Aha!’ John throws his hands in the air. ‘So, you admit it. That’s exactly how you defined ghosting to me. Come to think of it, maybe this offensive term has its place.’
‘You weren’t there.’ Mia’s tone turns more sullen. ‘It was horrible. I felt so betrayed. And he never even apologized.’
‘Well, in fairness, you never gave him the chance. How was he supposed to reach you? By carrier pigeon?’
‘Well, no,’ Mia concedes. ‘But, John, I really thought he liked me. I was certain of it. And then that night, standing beside the pool completely exposed …’ She looks away, but not before John sees the sheen of tears in her eyes.
Well, that’s horrible. He never meant to make the girl cry.
And it was a legitimately traumatizing experience.
To think a guy likes you, and you put your bravest self out there, and then find out it was all just a gag.
Mia’s resolution to hate Sam is entirely understandable, even if John can see that there’s been quite a bit of thawing in Sam’s general direction.
‘You know,’ he begins, ‘I’ve always believed in second chances.
Maybe everything has aligned on this trip; James ghosting you, Sam’s presence, your ability to interact with me …
so that you can reap the benefits of a second chance.
’ Something John was never given, since he passed away so soon after the whole debacle with Alastair at the Christmas party.
Lord knows John has spent hours upon hours regretting the way he handled himself.
Would things have turned out differently for John had he made different choices?
It is very possible. Probable, even. Maybe sharing some of his own regrets would motivate Mia to be a bit more courageous in her own love life.
Then again, he really did overstep with the meddling during the film.
Should he just lie to Mia and say he’ll stay out of it?
He’d be breaking his word, but is honour really a thing among ghosts?
‘I don’t care about second chances, John. I just want to enjoy my holiday, spend Christmas with my family and get Sam back a little for what he did to me.’ She shoots John a dark look. ‘Which is what you already agreed to do.’
‘If that’s what you really want …’
‘It is.’
‘All right then. I’ll do my best to stop meddling.’
‘Really?’ Mia’s face fills with relief. ‘Thank you.’ She lets her head fall back and closes her eyes, inhaling deeply.
When she opens them, she looks at the paper chain in her lap as if just remembering its presence.
‘Oh, I’d better get working on this before Aunt Gertie comes after me. She has no patience for slackers.’
Mia returns to looping the colourful strips of paper through each other, and after a while, she asks, ‘So, you really can’t eat anything?’
‘I can eat it,’ John replies morosely. ‘I just can’t taste it.
Cruel and unusual punishment, if you ask me.
’ He looks at the cheerful garland strewn halfway across the room.
‘You know, my mum made a garland just like this one year. Well, only with red and green paper, nothing as multicoloured as this. But I thought it was so beautiful.’
Mia curls another strip of paper and glues it in place. ‘Did you put the garland on your tree?’
John shakes his head. ‘We never had a tree. My mum was a single mother, and there was never a lot of money left for things that would just end up in the rubbish after a week. Practical and timeless were the words my mother lived by.’
‘Was it just the two of you?’ Mia asks.
John nods. ‘Just me and Mum. But that year she must have thrown caution to the wind. I remember feeling so curious when she pulled the stack of paper out of her bag. “They were on special offer, John,” she said. And then she sat with me the whole evening, making paper chains and telling me stories about my grandparents’ farm where she grew up.
They were from Scotland, and my mum had moved to London for university and then met my dad.
He died shortly after I was born – some kind of cancer. ’
‘That’s terrible,’ Mia says. ‘How sad for you both. Did your mum ever consider moving back to Scotland to be closer to your grandparents?’
‘They also both died when I was little,’ John says.
Try as he might, he can’t really remember what his grandparents looked like.
‘My mum was one of those late in life babies. They’d given up trying, and then my gran got the ultimate surprise when she got pregnant with my mum at fifty-five.
’ He rubs a palm across his cheek, thinking.
‘You know, that’s what has troubled me the most about my passing.
I left my mum all alone. I have no idea what happened to her after I died. ’
Mia makes a sound of dismay. ‘How awful John. I’m so sorry.’
‘I hate to think of her living out the last of her days on her own. I feel so guilty for abandoning her.’
Mia’s tone becomes fierce. ‘No, you can’t think that. It wasn’t something under your control. Truly!’
John smiles half-heartedly. It’s sweet that Mia feels the need to absolve him in this regard. They sit quietly for a moment as Mia alternates colours in her chain, until she suddenly straightens up and bounces in her seat.
‘John! We can google her! See if we can find any information about what happened to her after your accident.’ She pulls out her phone. ‘What was your mother’s full name?’
‘You can do that?’ Hope courses through John, but it feels dangerous.
Mia nods emphatically. ‘We can look to see if she’s on any social media – I’ll start there. But we can also search ancestry sites, things like that. The internet is chock full of personal information. My dad is always going on about what a violation of our privacy the internet is.’
‘Susan Ann Hackett. She lives – or lived – in Birmingham. Born in 1936.’
‘Oh. I’d forgotten about how old you actually are.’ Mia hesitates. ‘She’s probably not on any social media then.’ Still, she clicks through her apps and pulls up a search.
John waits patiently as Mia searches. After half an hour has gone by, Mia heaves a sigh and gives him a disappointed smile. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not finding anything.’
‘That’s OK,’ he hurries to assure her. He doesn’t like how dejected she looks. ‘It was a long shot anyway.’ Mia’s expression is resigned as she sets her phone down and picks up the paper chain again.
‘I had another idea for Sam,’ John says, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood.
‘The man eats a banana in the morning right when he wakes up. He brings one up every night to his room and puts it on his desk. He must be chronically low in potassium or something. Here’s what I’m thinking.
I’m going to scratch messages into the peel.
It won’t be visible at night, but by morning, he’ll see the message when he goes to eat it.
I just need some ideas of what the messages could be. ’
‘Oooh! Yes. This is brilliant!’ Mia sets aside the garland and props her chin in her hands. ‘Let’s see. They could say something sinister. “I know what you did.” Or, vaguely threatening. Um, oh, I know! “You won’t get away with this.”’
John gapes at her. ‘I was thinking something a little less dark. More along the lines of, “Your breath stinks” or something like that. We’re messing with the handsome lad, not trying to terrify him into an early grave.’
‘Oh. You’re probably right.’ Mia thinks for a minute. ‘But I would be more oddly specific. Something like, “Your socks are unquestionably hideous”. That will fit on a banana, right?’
John bites his lip so as not to laugh out loud. ‘You want me to write “unquestionably” on a banana? Do you know how small I’ll have to write?’
‘I believe in you!’ Mia crows. And John has to admit, she seems pretty proud of her own brilliance.