Chapter 7
Wallowing in regret there on the bridge, Sydney did not even notice that Michael had entered the clearing, even though his feet were making rather echoing crunching noises on the ground as he broke twigs in his path. He walked towards her and stood at the foot of the bridge, but still she did not look up. Finally, to call her attention, he said softly, “I thought I might find you here...”
She jumped slightly at the sudden noise and glanced over to him, surprised he was there. “Oh…my car…,” she sighed, realizing it was still parked out in front of his house.
“Yeah,” he said, walking two steps up the bridge, “I figured I’d either find you here or dead in the woods somewhere… I decided to be optimistic.”
Sydney laughed softly and looked towards the stream flowing beneath them. “You mean you weren’t optimistic that I was dead in the woods somewhere?” she asked dryly.
Taking two steps towards her, he made something very clear. “I would never, ever want you dead Sydney,” he told her seriously. She looked over to him cautiously. “And I’m sorry for what I said back at the house. I was being mean on purpose and I shouldn’t have been…”
She gave him a soft smile. “I guess we both have a lot to be sorry for,” she sighed. Then, looking down at her hands on the railing, she noticed something for the first time. “Hey…its not here,” she said with confusion, her fingertips rubbing across the wooden railing.
A decade earlier, Sydney and Michael had carved an emblem to them and their relationship in the wooden railing of that bridge. Since it was the location of their first kiss, they thought it was appropriate to carve, SB + MV forever into it so that the memory of their relationship would always be preserved no matter what happened later in their lives. Sydney remembered fondly the hour the spent with a screw drive and a hammer, etching the crooked letters into the railing. They never told anyone about it, either, mostly out of fear for being charged with vandalism. Now, looking down at the bare wood void of any sort of markings, Sydney couldn’t help but feel very sad.
“Nah, a storm a few years back totally destroyed this bridge; it had to be rebuilt,” Michael explained simply.
“Oh I see,” Sydney nodded. At first she thought that maybe Michael, in his anger, had removed it along with every other memory he had of them together. But, if the bridge was destroyed by a storm, then there was nothing any of them could do about it.
After silence hung between them for a few awkward minutes, Sydney turned to Michael and said sincerely, “I’m sorry I hurt you…left and didn’t call. I was stupid…”
“Yeah well that’s nothing new,” he teased lightly with a grin. She rolled her eyes and gave him a light shove. “Don’t worry about it; it’s in the past. C’mon back to the house and I’ll make you some dinner – I promise to be unarmed at all times.”
“Dinner?” her brow wrinkled. “But it’s only…,” she glanced down at her left wrist only to see that she had forgotten her watch that morning. When she arrived at Michael’s earlier it was barely after two o’clock; she was unsure how much time had passed as she stood on that bridge.
“It’s almost five o’clock,” Michael informed her.
“Oh,” she laughed softly, “I didn’t realize… yeah, dinner sounds nice. Thanks.”
“Of course. While we eat you can tell me about life in New York,” he said as they began the trek back to his house.
“Oh you mean where I have my Ebenezer Scrooge existence?” she asked. He blushed slightly and turned away, which caused Sydney to laugh inwardly.
For the remainder of their walk through the brush they did not speak. Michael did hold tree branches out of the way for Sydney to get by, though. This simple reminder of his gentlemanly qualities instilled by years and year of nagging on Amelia’s part made Sydney smile; she really had missed how they used to be when she lived in Hemlock Grove.
“You seriously did an amazing job on this house, Michael,” Sydney spoke when they walked out onto the gravel driveway facing the house. “I am very, very impressed.”
“You had that little faith in me?” he asked. His tone did not indicate hurt, though, for he was teasing her.
“No of course not!” she insisted. “I just didn’t expect…this. I thought you’d make it livable for yourself but this…it has flowers and fresh paint…,” she let her voice drift off as her words were once again consumed with amazement.
“Well I can’t take all the credit; Mom did the flowers,” he admitted. Then added, “but I water them!”
“I’m sure you do,” Sydney laughed softly. Then she followed Michael into their former abode and took notice that it was significantly cleaner than it had been a few hours earlier. Apparently, Michael used the time he was waiting for the repairman to arrive to straighten up the messes accumulating on the floor, coffee table, and pretty much every surface area of the home. “So do I get the fifty cent tour or what?” she questioned.
“Tour yourself; I’m starting dinner,” he said simply before disappearing back through the house. Sydney watched him go before she began walking around on her self-guided exploration. It appeared that in her absence, Michael had removed some of the walls in the home, opening it up to a more spacious living arrangement. The main room had once been two separate, smaller rooms. Sydney felt it looked much better the way Michael made it, though.
After wandering around Michael’s worn sofa and taking note that he had very few knick-knacks around, she made her way down the hall towards the two bedrooms the house had. The one, as she suspected, was completely empty aside from a few boxes randomly placed on the floor. The other was the room Michael used as his bedroom. It appeared he purchased a new wood frame bed that did not match at all with the beat-up dresser across from it, but Sydney knew full well that Michael did not care for such home décor trivialities; as long as it functioned he was happy.
“Looks like you got a pretty nice bachelor pad here,” Sydney said as she joined Michael in the kitchen.
He laughed under his breath. “Bachelor pad, right,” he rolled his eyes slightly before handing her a beer. “I throw wild parties every night, have tons of women here, orgies – you know, the unusual.”
“I’m sure,” she said before taking a long drink from the bottle in her hand.
“So…,” Michael said after a few minute long silence. “New York… is it what you expected it to be?”
“Not at all,” she said honestly. “It was much harder to get used to than I thought it would be. It’s so different… no one talks about you or gossips on the street about how terrible Henry Reid’s toupee is…”
“That must be tragic,” he said with obvious sarcasm. They both laughed. “But I’m sure there’s gossip around the office. You know, things like, ‘Oh my god, did you here how Sydney Bristow totally pulled a Monica Lewinski when she was under the boss’s desk and-’”
“Michael!” Sydney screeched, punching his arm rather hard. He whined and backed away from her. “That’s disgusting…although you do have a point – people did gossip about who was sleeping with who around the office.”
“Scandalous!” he mocked.
She rolled her eyes at him. “So what about here? Big changes goin’ on?”
“Oh yeah, tons,” he emphasized dramatically. “Haven’t you heard? We’re not the most popular hangout spot in northern Pennsylvania. Yep, we even got our own little dot on one of them fancy map things!”
“You must be proud,” she sighed.
“I am indeed,” he smiled.
“No, seriously – your dad…used cars… I never saw that one commin’. What gave you that idea?” she asked.
Michael turned away and said as evasively as possible, “What? No… what made you think I had somethin’ to do with it….”
“Uh, your dad,” she said in an ‘isn’t it obvious’ tone. “He told me it was all you.”
“Nah he’s just sayin’ that…,” Michael said, still avoiding her gaze. “It’s no big deal really… it was just something…”
“Sure,” Sydney said in a rather uncertain tone. She was positive Bill had not lied to her when he told her that it was all Michael’s idea. The only thing she could not understand was why Michael was so unwilling to take credit for his idea. The Michael she knew would have been glad to admit any idea was his, so long as it was successful, of course.
Sighing slightly, she sat down at the table centered in Michael’s kitchen; it certainly was going to be an interesting evening.