by Nicole Wells
“That’s the way it usually goes” I reply, my attention still on the empty space.
“I know it's been a tough year for you.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, no I’m fine. It's weird, you know, people knowing me and knowing personal things, but it's okay. Most people are cool about the sparks.”
“I’m glad the doctors say everything is fine.”
"Well, it depends on who you talk to. But of the ones who have actually examined me, yes, they haven't found anything wrong. Related to that."
“You’re handling everything remarkably well.”
I move away to fix a crinkle in the tree skirt and spread some fake red flowers on top. “Well, it's a part of who I am now. Jackie says I lead with my heart. That’s my primary energetic, my constitution, and it's how I handshake with the world. So I'm just really living my truth now. In some ways, it's been hard, yes, but in some ways, it's easier."
Eyes still on the empty space between the branches and the tree skirt, I ask, “Hey, what do you think about potted poinsettias under the tree?”
“I think your dad would have bought gifts for some charity and wrapped them and put them there until it was time to donate. He had a huge heart like yours.”
“That’s a good idea. We should do that. I bet there are some things I could make that we could donate. And I’ve got lots of things I don’t need anymore.”
"We'll do that." Sitting on the sofa in front of the tree now, she takes a deep breath.
"Enya, I've been meaning to talk to you." She pats the space on the cushion beside her.
"What's up?"
“Well, there's something I've been meaning to ask you, And something I've been meaning to tell you. Which do you want first?
“Ask first” I choose.
“Okay. There's someone I'd like you to meet, and I'd like to ask him to join us for Christmas.
"Oh." I pause and think about it. I guess I should have seen this coming. "Wow. I mean, I'm happy for you Mom. Of course he can join. I want to meet him. Umm, what's he like? How did you meet? Does he have kids?”
She smiles, beams really. “You know, I've thought so many times how to describe him to you, and now the moments come and I don't know what to say.
“He's someone I've known from work. He's genuine and quiet, but he's not afraid to express himself, and he makes me laugh. He likes reading actual physical magazines and he abhors not using coasters." She smiles at some inside joke.
"He's divorced but he's not bitter. He's kind. And funny. I mentioned that right?"
She had a dreamy look in her eyes, and I can't help smiling in return. It'll take some getting used to, her having a boyfriend, but I'm glad to see her smile.
“It's okay mom, it's not like a job interview. If he makes you happy, then I'll be happy for you. But if that's the ask, what's the tell?'
A little of the lightheartedness leaves her face and resolve creeps in. "We're getting married."
"What? It's only been three years since dad died!" I say without thinking. Of course she knows that. Saying it out loud sounds a lot longer than it feels at this moment. It's been a blink of an eye. Close enough that I can still imagine him here, with us.
I haven't even brought up my last flashback with her and dad. It seemed so personal and with all the other stuff going on with the invasion of my privacy, I was waiting for the right moment. Would she even care now?
“Why did you even ask me about Christmas? It seems like my opinion doesn't even matter.” I don't realize I’m standing until she pulls me back down to the couch.
“Alex and I have known each other for so long, when we finally allowed a romance to happen it was a whirlwind. Of course your opinion matters. But it also matters that life is precious and we've both learned that lesson. There's really no reason to wait. We want to be together and we want you kids to know.”
“He does have kids?”
“Yes, two boys, both a little older than you.”
She pats my hand again. “I'm sorry this is such a surprise. That's my fault. I screwed up. Honestly, I've been meaning to tell you. Alex wanted to meet you a long time ago. It just never seemed like the right time. I wanted for things to be perfect and I ended up waiting too long.”
"You're remarrying and I've got brothers," I say without inflection.
“I didn't plan to fall in love.” She says it like a confession, and I feel bad for making love into something to confess. I don't know why some part of me is acting like this is a betrayal.
“I am happy for you, Mom — I just ... Wow… I just need time to process.”
I awkwardly pat her and then grab my stuff, leaving her alone on the couch in her sweats in front of the big, dressed up, silver and gold tree.
chapter 29
I UNLOCK THE DOOR, glad it's just Fee home. I'm still analyzing my feelings, and I'm not fit company right now. I think I'll go for a run and then try to mediate. I recognize that it feels like everyone is moving on. Maybe having this new talent to see the past is keeping me moored there. Maybe I'm scared Jacob has moved on too. I can't love him. No, I do love him, and I can't have a relationship with him. Logically, he should move on. I want him to, logically. It would just be nice not to know about it. Maybe that's why he's quiet. He hasn't written to me since his last letter, despite being in the spotlight from all the internet attention.
“Hello? Earth to Enya. Did you hear me?”
“Oh, sorry Fee, did you say something? I've got a lot on my mind.”
I realize I'm still standing in the doorway, keys in my hand. My reflection in the mirror beside me seems to wait for me to catch up too.
“I said you better move out of the way, Joshua will be here soon.”
I groan as I move forward towards my room. “Really? Does he have to be here every night? “
I realize I should have stayed quiet when Fee intercepts me, blocking my path.
“Josh is so kind and so sweet. And funny. He’s a great guy. I mean, seriously, he attends Bible study! And cute, too. Why don’t you give him a chance?”
If I'd just stuck to my plan, I'd be out running by now. I try not to tap my foot as I wait out her tirade.
“Joshua really likes you, you know. The poor guy, he’s like a puppy getting kicked to the curb and he keeps coming back for more. Throw a dog a bone. Would it be so hard, just one date?”
Maybe if I hadn’t had that conversation with my mom and hadn't felt so raw, I could stay more composed. Normally I can just accept that Fee’s pushy and not seeing it as anything other than Fee just being Fee. But I feel raw and reactive, so I shout back at her, “God, Fee, just give it a break, okay?! I can’t love Jacob!”
She looks shocked, maybe because I actually raised my voice and talked back. I'm about to apologize when she says, “Who’s Jacob?”.
"Oh. My. God!" I cover my mouth, not believing his name escaped my lips. Mortified, unable to talk and not trusting myself to say anymore, I turn and run out of the apartment. Thank goodness I still had my keys in my hand. I get in my car, and just drive, my eyes on the road, but my mind on another road hundreds of miles away, in another time a year and a half earlier.
I drive around aimlessly for a while. Eventually, I pull into a shopping plaza parking lot. I pull into an empty area and turn the car off, my thoughts still swirling. I think about what Bob said about not fighting the wave. Maybe I've been trying to control the wave this whole time. Maybe I'm not so present to what is, and my ego is in charge because I've been in such a place of fear.
I think back to the flashback with mom and dad. It's so hard to be brave when it's your loved ones and not yourself. I'm so scared he will die.
I can choose to ride to wave though. Is not fighting it, not fighting us, selfish?
There's been so much going on in my life, one thing after another, I don't know when I shifted into control and fear.
I thought I had mastered fear, but I think spiritual progress doesn't work like that. I think it's more a spiral than a stairw
ay. I keep coming back to the same issues, but at a different level.
I revisit my fear for Jacob, my thoughts of our impending deaths. I recognize the familiarity, it's like how I felt when I got my diagnosis. But I'm more grounded than then, less adrift in the fear.
A car somewhere in the parking lot honks and startles me. Mentally jolted off track, I don’t return to my scattered thoughts. I turn the ignition and retrace my route until I find myself back at the place I'll always call home.
It's time to tell my mom about that vision of her and dad.
chapter 30
“I’M SORRY, MOM,” I say as I join her in her room. We sit laid out side by side on her bed against her tufted headboard.
“Honey, it was a bit of an ambush. I’m sorry I didn’t find a better way to let you know.”
We hug. Our hugs have been becoming less awkward. It's nice that it feels natural.
"I don't know why I reacted that way. I truly am happy for you."
“Because you were angry, and beneath anger is always fear.”
“Yeah, someone wise once told me that too.” I try to hold the waterworks back as I think of him, sniffling a bit.
“Oh, honey,” Mom says, misinterpreting my sniffles, “You don’t need to worry that this will change my love for you or my love for your dad. And you don’t need to feel bad about how you reacted.
“It was a shock. It was near the anniversary of his death. And it is soon in some ways, which all makes it feel even more like a betrayal of his memory. And even more so, it makes things final. That life is moving on without him. Logically, you know that. But there is a part of you that lives in a timeless place, where miracles can happen, and that feels the most betrayed. That little girl who lives there has been waiting a long time for her daddy to come home.”
I pull my legs up and hug my knees, my head gently rocking back and forth.
“I’ve found him, though. When I was camping, when I have visions. I know he’s not truly dead.”
“Even without the visions, he lives on in you.”
She reaches out and strokes my hair. "You two are similar in so many ways. I’m so glad I have you."
I think about how it could have been otherwise.
“I had a vision about you and dad, back when you lived in Alexandria.”
She sits up and her hands gather in her lap. “I loved him with all my heart.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Alex can never replace him.”
“I know that too, Mom.”
“But it's possible to love again. Sometimes we feel broken, but I don’t think love can ever break. Sometimes, in my best moments, I think we are just made of love. Love is what we are. How can that break?”
“Jacob once said something similar. He thinks all there is in the world is love.”
“I always liked Jacob.”
I trace the quilted line on her comforter, a straight path in an ocean of undulating thread.
“Yeah, he’s a great guy.”
I follow the thread to a crossroads, where the current path must be abandoned and a new one chosen.
"In my vision, you guys were at a waterfront park, and Dad tried to break up with you."
I look up at her and she is smiling fondly “Who would have thought even the worst memories become happy treasures? That day I almost lost him. I guess I eventually did, but that intervening time, well, it’s made my life full and worthwhile.”
“Mom, how could you let yourself love Dad knowing he would die?”
“You don’t have a choice who you love.”
“Sure you do, you can avoid them.”
My mom stills and the quiet seems to echo my words back to me. She then moves her entire body so that she is sitting right in front of me, facing me, looking concerned and determined.
“Enya, what do you fear more than death?”
"Mom, honestly, there is no fear greater than death. Everyone is scared of dying."
"No, honey, think. What do you fear more than death? Death is the only guarantee in life. How can you fear it? What is it you actually fear?"
Her questions prod at me and I don’t know where she’s going with this. “Pain?”
“Yes. That is a great, paralyzing, humbling fear. That is fear for the body. And you know you are more than your body. What fear is greater than that?” my mom pushes.
“Being alone?”
“Maybe. Allow yourself to feel the fear. Don’t fight it. Push past the reflex to shirk away from it. What is it you are so scared of?”
“I don't know, Mom. I’m scared of dying!”
“Why?” she persists.
“Because then I wouldn't exist anymore!” I explode. I feel like we are stating the obvious, but I want to know whatever it is she's getting at.
“Ah. Is that true? Have you examined that against what you know, what you believe?”
“I mean, my soul would go on. But my life would be over.”
“So you fear an end to this life? You want this life to last forever?”
“No … I wouldn’t want to live forever. Just long enough to do all the things I want to.”
“And what are the things you want to?”
“God, Mom, I’ve been through all this with the Huntington's. I’ve made peace with dying.”
“No, I don’t think you have. We haven’t had this talk. We need to have this talk. What are the things you want to do before you die?”
“I don’t know, just the things to feel complete.”
“So your greatest fear is not dying, but living an unlived life.”
“What?”
“You’re scared of dying before you have lived.”
“I’m scared … I’m scared of the lost opportunity. Of dying before I had the chance to… Oh, Mom.”
“Enya.” She smiles.
"Thank you." I give her a quick peck on the cheek and bounce off the bed, invigorated to call Jacob right away and not waste any more time. It was my Ego and fear holding me back, and it's clear now between my mom's questioning and my vision of my dad in his study, the most important thing to me in life is loving — I'm not truly living without that. Love is all there is.
“Enya?”
I only register her voice when I’m already down the hall and on my way out, too far away to answer.
"It's not Joshua, is it?"
I head back to the apartment. I need privacy to make this call but Fee is probably there and I doubt she'll leave me alone without an explanation. And Joshua might be there too. I really am not prepared to explain to him.
I drum on my steering wheel, not coming up with any better alternate place to call him. I guess I could have stayed in my old bedroom, but that just doesn't feel right either. My room in the apartment is best if I can get privacy.
I peek at the dashboard clock. It's after 3. I wonder if he has classes. That would be awkward. But he probably wouldn't even answer then. It's about noon there, so maybe he's just getting lunch. I imagine him in a dining hall and answering his phone. That wouldn't be good either. What if he's in a library, in a study group? He'd take slack for the disruption. Or he wouldn't even have his phone on, and I'd wait on tenterhooks for his response and possibly lose my nerve and have it all come out wrong. Maybe I should text him first? But then he'd probably just call me right back.
I'm at a stoplight, close to the apartment, when I realize with all this driving I'm running low on gas. I head to the nearest gas station, deciding to take advantage of the detour and get Fee her favorite Starbucks drink. Hopefully, that will appease and occupy her enough to leave me alone in private. She knows not to bother me in my room. And maybe I'll get a treat in case Joshua is there too, they can share. And by "share" I mean it can distract them over who gets it while I take cover in my room.
A few minutes later, armed with a grande peppermint mocha and a double chocolate chunk brownie, I head home.
chapter 31
Jacob
I TEXT MY PARENTS so t
hey know I've landed safely. But I don't head home for my winter break just yet. I've got to see about a girl. I know they'd understand.
I'd been worried sick ever since her personal story blew up over the internet. She shouldn't have to face that violation alone. She should never feel alone. I curse my school and the delay it caused me in coming to her.
I take Uber over to her house. I notice her car is not in the driveway, but I'm too full of energy to not knock on the door now. I shoulder my backpack and go down the familiar walk with its disciplined cuboid boxwoods, reassured that some things never change. They are interspersed with bright yellow mums, fall plants clinging to the glory of autumn and blind to the coming winter. I cringe at my thoughts, hoping there are no parallels, and turn away from the out of season plants.
The colonial facade has always seemed to mock my heritage, as if to emphasize the prize within is beyond my grasp. But I’m nothing if not faithful to Enya and me.
The white door I've faced so many times before is decorated with a Christmas wreath. I press the doorbell, hoping she'll answer, willing it to reveal her face.
The door swings in and her mom is taken aback at the sight of me.
"Oh, Jacob! You're here!" She's surprised, of course. Then she asks automatically, "How's school? How are your parents?"
"Where's Enya?" I try not to growl. I'm not known for being suave.
"Oh, you just missed her!"
Of course I did. Just my luck, Cloverleaf, I think to myself.
I'm already debating if I should just head home, drop my bag off and borrow a car (no) or track her down immediately (yes) when her mom says, "I gave her all of your letters."
I'm confused.
"I don't know why she didn't want them to arrive at the apartment. Maybe the mail is unreliable there. When Rich and I lived in an apartment in Virginia before Enya was born, we had this one mail carrier that would never take our outgoing mail and we'd always get other people's mail and vice versa. It's a way to get to know your neighbors, I guess. Apartment living. One of the hallmarks of being young, huh?"