Marisa Palmer

A Love Story Pt 1

He was at the odd age of 23. No longer a teenager, forced to become an adult. When he was sixteen he thought that he had the whole world ahead of him, but now forced back to his small home town Presque Isle, Maine, upon the death of his father, he was not sure what was in store for his young life.
Perhaps he would marry, but he had not yet found that perfect girl who took his breath away. Well, he did at one time, but that was history. He wanted what his parents had; of course; he would never admit to it. They had the kind of love that you find in fairytales. He rescued her from an abusive relationship and they fell madly in love for twenty five wonderful years. Oh to experience a love like that.
As the taxi approached the familiar house, Matthew Garret became rather sad. His father had been everything to him, and now all he was was a memory, one that he would cherish always. His mother had died during child birth, a memory he wishes to forget, knowing full well that an infant had to no way of knowing that his birth would result in a death, leaving him to be raised by his father.
Matthew paid the taxi driver, with a smile, seizing his suitcase he opened the taxi door. Once he set his foot on the stone, everything became all the real to him. Here he was back at the house where he grew up and became the man he is today.
He walked the faded and cracked white steps toward the great oak door. Finding his key in his pocked Matthew unlocked the door. It opened with a creek showing it’s true age. Before him set the great entry way of marble floors and Victorian style stairs that curved all the way up.
He was reminded of when he was a boy he would slide down on the railing frightening Cook. She would scold him with a pat on the bottom as she sent him on his way. Oh what fun he had torturing her.
Her real name was Janice Cooksonger; Miss Cooksonger, but little Matthew couldn’t say that so he called her “Cook.” For that is what she was, the household cook. She made the best cookies, pies, and cakes in the city. People would pay her to bake for parties, events, or just for their own pleasure.
Matthew set down his suitcase walking further in. Suddenly, he heard that familiar voice “Take off your shoes, Mister, I just washed that floor.” Matthew smiled as he slipped off his shoes and placed them in the closet. Cook appeared around the corner with a smile on her gracefully aged face. She welcomed Matthew with opened arms. They embraced each other for a few minutes.
“Land sakes, Matthew, it is so good to see you. Let me look at ya,” remarked Cook as she spun Matthew around. “Boy, you sure are skinny. Ain’t they feeding ya at that fancy College of yours?”
“Yes, Cook, they feed me just fine.”
“Oh, I am so glad to see you. Are you tired from your trip?” asked Cook in her usual motherly manner.
“No, I am fine. Why don’t we sit in the tea room and do some catching up?”
“That is a fine idea. I am just dying to know how college is going. Why don’t I go make some hot chocolate and bake up a quick batch of my chocolate chip cookies, while you get yourself settled in.”
“Sounds great, Cook. See you in a little while.”
Matthew took a hold of his suitcase and headed up the familiar stairs. Once up the what seemed like never ending staircase, he took a left down that hallway until he arrived to his old bedroom door. Opening the squeaky door, Matthew was in full view of the bedroom where he grew up. And much to his surprise and happiness, nothing had changed. The bed spread was the same, all of his old posters were still on the walls, his desk and dresser were also still in the same places where he had left them five years ago.
Matthew sat on the bed as he began to ponder. “Wow. Has it really been five years since I have set foot in this house? I have been gone way too long. At least dad was able to make it down to visit me. I just wish I had made the same effort.”
Matthew laid back on the bed and began to regret not returning home when he heard his father was ill. But it was impossible to get away due to finals and his job back at New York. After all it was his final year. But because of the sudden death of his father, none of that mattered now. Before Matthew knew it he was sound to sleep with the wonderful thoughts of his dad.
“No, No, No. Dad, I am sorry. Please, don’t go. Please come back.” Matthew awoke with such a fright. Sitting up straight on the bed, he took a deep breath. “What a weird dream,” he thought to himself. “I must have been more tired than I thought,” said Matthew as he looked at the clock that read 3:30.
He walked to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. Walking downstairs he was greeted with a friendly smile. “
“I am so sorry, Cook. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked so peaceful and I knew that you were tired so I thought I would just let you rest. So how about those cookies?”
“What about the cocoa?” asked Matthew, feeling like a little kid again.
“Changed my mind and decided to go with the milk. It is better for you anyway.” Matthew laughed as the two entered the tea room.
“So, my dear, tell me all about what has been happening at college. Any lady friends?”
“No, Cook. No lady friends.”
“Why ever not?”
“Just haven’t found “that” girl yet.”
“Well, that is too bad. I hear that Miss Elizabeth is back in town. Living in her old house.”
“That is ancient history, Cook.”


All rights belong to its author. It was published on by demand of Marisa Palmer.
Published on on 01/14/2009.


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