Faith frowned, scratched her head, and looked at Cody. “Then why...?”
Cody looked at Faith and said, “I saw you in Margaret, I thought.” Cody shook his head. “You and Dad have always told me actions speak louder than words. I never wanted to admit how ashamed she was to be seen in company with her sister or dad.”
When Cody scooted to the edge of the bench to leave, Faith asked, as she handed the box to him, “Don’t you want to take your promise ring with you?”
Cody wiped the tears from his cheeks with a napkin and said, “The symbol of my delusion?” Cody placed the ring box on a saucer and covered it with the soiled napkin. “Someone else will find use for it.”
Cody smiled at Faith and said, “Thanks, Mom, for reminding me what’s important in my life.”
Eddy waked over to Cody. Faith handed the promise ring to Eddy. While he admired the ring he looked at Faith and said, “Looks like the one I gave you after our first date.”
“You gave mom a promise ring?” Cody asked as he reached over to his mother’s right hand. “Where’s the ring?”
“The band broke some time ago. I put it in my jewelry box on my dresser. Each time I look at the promise ring, I keep telling myself to get it fixed.”
“Why haven’t you fixed it?” Cody asked.
Faith shrugged and said, “I have more important things in my life to take care of—like you and your dad.”
Cody was astonished when his mom removed the ring from the box and slid it onto her right index finger. She leaned back in her seat, admired the ring, and looked at Cody and said, “My son’s promise ring. It’ll be safe with me. When you find the right girl, I’ll give it back to you.”
Confessions and Forgiveness
Vivian slept.
A white sheet was pulled up to her neck, her chalk white arms were lying on her breasts. Her head was propped up on two pillows. Barely visible on the back of her head, a tumor the size of a softball had sapped life from her frail body. The moment Randy touched his mother’s hand, her eyes opened. She smiled. They began talking about the weather—the low-hanging clouds, the wind and the rain. After several minutes of trifling conversation, an uneasy silence fell between them.
Why did the son of a bitch hate me so? Randy wondered.
Vivian asked, “How’s Doris and the kids?”
This isn’t the time to tell her about the divorce, he thought.
Vivian knew her son well, better than he did at times. When he didn’t want to talk about sensitive issues, he shut his heart from her and those closest to him. Knowing this, she changed the subject. “How’s school?”
“Couple of months I’ll have my master’s.”
Her eyes brightened. “You’re the only one in the family to go on to college.”
“Not bad for a kid who never finished high school, huh?”
“You had more on your plate to deal with than high school,” she said. “I knew why you quit.” She smiled and said, “I remember the day you graduated from college. I took your degree home and showed it to everybody. I was so proud of you. Barney would have been proud of you too.”
“I bet,” Randy said sarcastically.
“Do you remember spending time with your sister after school?”
Randy grimaced and thought his mother’s imagination was getting the best of her. Woodrow Wilson Junior High wasn’t far from Martin’s Department Store, where Vivian had worked as an elevator operator. In his mind’s eye, he could see the clouds of smoke billowing out around her as people left the car. After school, he had ridden the elevator until Vivian got off work.
“Marie?” he asked. He never remembered spending any time with his sister after the adoption.
Vivian smiled and said, “Barney worked for the state at the time. He was home on the weekends. During the week, I had Marie come pick you up after school so you could be with her. I wanted you to be part of her life.” Vivian coughed. “One day, Barney came home early. When he saw you with Marie... it was the worst fight your dad and I had during our marriage.”
“Why wouldn’t he want me to be with Marie?”
“He was afraid Marie would kidnap you.”
Randy was stunned. “Marie wasn’t much older than me!”
“I know.” Vivian said.
“Did you ever meet my mom?” Randy asked.
“I was with her several times before we adopted you,” Vivian replied. “Did I tell you how we found you?”
Randy shook his head.
“Aunt Dolly.”
Randy asked, “Wasn’t she Barney’s sister?”
Vivian nodded. “Aunt Dolly was a registered nurse. She was taking care of your mother. Your mother knew she didn’t have much longer to live. She shared everything with Aunt Dolly. I never gave Barney a son. I knew he wanted a boy. Dolly talked to him first. Then he came home to talk to me about adopting you. Shortly after that I met your mother.”
“Did Barney ever visit her?”
“No. Your mother was pale, emaciated. There wasn’t much left of her. Barney couldn’t stand to see her like that.”
“What was she like?”
“You don’t remember her?”
Randy stared out the window and said, “Bits and pieces.”
“She was a peach, that woman was. She had been a housewife all her life. She told me she learned about life by watching animals on the farm. Your mom and dad dated during high school. They married after graduation. Your dad inherited the family farm; he was the only boy. He was a good provider, and they had a wonderful marriage. He died of nephritis when he was forty-five. Your mom died of cancer at forty-five, also.”
“It was my fault she died,” Randy said.
Vivian squeezed his hand. “What makes you say that?”
“I remember one of my uncles telling Mom if she hadn’t had me she would still be alive. Marie was with me at the time. We were in another room and could hear my uncle’s voice. Marie drew me close to her and told me she would never leave me.”
“That’s not true!” Vivian said. “In those days when you were diagnosed with cancer, that word was your death sentence.” Vivian pointed to the growth on the back of her head. Trying to make light of her condition, she said, “I don’t think we know much more today.” She looked at Randy and said, “You being born did not kill your mother. Things happen in life we don’t always have control over.”
Vivian relaxed and smoothed the sheet out with her hand. “I remember when we brought you home. You didn’t know what to say to us. We didn’t know what to say to you. I wanted to go into counseling with you. You needed help.” She chuckled. “So did we. Barney,” she said, looking up into Randy’s eyes, “refused to go.”
Randy wondered out loud, “Why?”
“He was afraid of what people might say.”
“Bastard,” Randy whispered.
“Stop saying that!” Vivian demanded. “Barney was a decent man,” he heard her say.
“Yeah,” Randy said sarcastically. “I could never talk to him. He was never the dad I wanted any more than I was the son he wanted.”
“Barney didn’t know how to talk to you. That’s why he yelled. I was patient with him like I tried to be patient with you.” She sighed. “There were times I couldn’t talk to you either.”
Randy looked at the ceiling, tears streaming down his cheeks. Unable to speak, he shook his head and clenched his fists.
“Because he didn’t cry?...because he didn’t hug, or kiss you?” Vivian questioned softly.
“Barney cried once,” Randy said. “He took me to the Greyhound bus depot when my boot leave was over. We were standing outside the open doors of the bus. He hugged and kissed me. He was bawling, and I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say to him.”
“Barney didn’t show affection,” Vivian said. “After he died I was lonely. I can’t live alone. I needed a husband. I hoped I would find a man like your dad.”
“Is that why you married Hank?”
“I thought Hank was different. I met Hank at the Elks club. He loved to waltz like Barney. Hank and I had a lot of good times together. I’ve never been able to face the fact that when I married Hank I married an alcoholic.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I had no one to talk to about Hank.”
“Divorce ...” The word rolled off Randy’s lips.
Vivian shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Why?” Randy asked.
“I don’t believe in divorce. If only I had the time, the strength, and the patience to work with Hank like...” She fell silent.
Randy didn’t want to discuss Hank. “Do you remember the time...?” Randy stared at the floor.
“Do I remember what?” Vivian asked, rubbing his hand.
Randy shook his head, gripped the railing of her bed until his hands turned red. He looked away so she couldn’t see the tears he knew were there.
“Can’t be all that bad,” Vivian said. “Spill the beans!”
Randy spoke in a shaky voice. “In junior high, I wanted to study music and drama. When I asked Barney for his advice, he told me only queers do that kind of work.”
“That’s odd,” Vivian said. “We danced to big band music. He loved to waltz. He was a different man on the ball room floor... relaxed. And we had a lot of fun together.”
Randy said, “I got a penciled letter from Barney once.”
Vivian’s eyes widened as she said, “I remember the day he wrote that letter. He didn’t read it to me. I never asked him to. I gave him an envelope. I wanted to go with him to the post office, but he said no. He had emphysema so bad he could hardly breathe. He wouldn’t go on oxygen.” She paused. “During the war, Barney never wrote one letter to me.” She paused again. “I wrote him. I knew he loved me. I knew after the war he would come home to me, and he did.”
“But...” Randy paused, wondering. “How do you know someone loves you if they don’t ever tell you?”
She smiled. “I knew he would come back to me. Just like I knew you would be here for me.”
Randy bent, hugged Vivian, and sobbed. “Forgive me, Mom. I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused you and”—Randy felt his body tense as he choked on the word—“Dad.”
“Barney’s forgiven you too, Randy. He told me he has.”
Randy stood, frightened by the realization that Vivian was about to die. He remembered while he was in Japan, a Buddhist Monk had told him when people die they summon loved ones who have gone on to return to help them cross over. Randy wondered if Vivian had seen Barney standing in the room waiting. It was then Randy realized Barney had been emotionally crippled at some point in his earlier life. That was why Barney had not known how to show his love for either of them.
“Someday when you are older you’ll forgive Barney.”
The skin on Randy’s face tightened. Threads of snot dripped from his nose as he cried. “I love you, Mom. I do.” He ripped the strands of snot from his nose and wiped them on his trousers. His sinuses ran like a broken faucet, his forehead pounded, and his chest heaved and dropped as he sobbed and ground his teeth. He’d never felt so helpless.
Vivian smiled, gripped his hand, and said, “I was always proud of you. I’ve loved you as though I bore you out of my body.” She wheezed. “You were one messed-up kid when we got you.”
As Vivian licked her dried lips, a nurse entered the room to monitor her vital signs. The nurse stopped what she was doing and handed Randy a small jug with a bent straw in the middle. Randy lowered the jug to Vivian’s mouth, but she couldn’t maneuver the plastic straw into her mouth. The nurse put her hand under Vivian’s head, raised her head gently, and pressed the plastic straw between her lips. It was then Randy clearly saw the ugly growth mushrooming out of the back of her skull. It was hideous. He wanted to cut it off. Nausea rose in Randy’s throat as he walked out into the hall.
Later, Randy didn’t remember seeing people in the hall that day, only blurred shadows and muffled voices.
He stared out a window in another patient’s room across the hall from his mom’s room. He could hear rain pounding against the window. Ugly, barren branches flopped in the wind. Those trees were as dead as the wrinkled old man lying in bed, naked. Noticing Randy’s glare, a male nurse slammed the door shut.
“Mr. Miller?”
“Yes,” Randy said to the door. He felt a hand touch his shoulder.
“Mr. Miller?”
Randy glanced at the elderly man in a white smock with a stethoscope dangling around his neck. “Dr. Patterson,” he said, shaking Randy’s hand. He motioned to a small room down the hall.
They entered a darkened room, a small chapel, and sat on a pew closest to the door.
“How long have you been my mom’s doctor?”
“Most of her adult life.” he paused and said in a frustrating tone of voice, “Hank hasn’t been...”
“Hank’s alcoholism and his deceits destroyed Mom’s will to live. The son of a bitch will get his someday.” Randy stared at the cross and said, “Barney would never have done this to her.” He paused, looked at Dr. Patterson, and said, “Dying...”
“Did your mother smoke?” Doctor Patterson asked.
“Smoke,” Randy whispered in astonishment. “Never.” Randy paused, staring at the doctor’s stethoscope. “Why?”
“The inside of her lungs are black.” He paused. “I don’t understand.”
“Mom was an elevator operator for thirty-two years. I visited her after school. People emerged through the smoke after she opened the elevator door. I watched her fan smoke from her face, coughing, wishing they would pass a law forbidding people to smoke on elevators. The stainless steel ashtray—it looked like a toilet bowl complete with lid—was stuffed with cigarette butts.” Randy looked at Dr. Patterson and asked, “Other people’s smoke killed her?”
Dr. Patterson stared at the pack of cigarettes in Randy’s shirt pocket.
Randy blushed.
“Did your mother drink?”
“When she and my father went out...”
“Every time I’ve seen him in the hospital he’s been drunk,” the doctor said.
“I told you Hank’s not my father,” Randy said. “Mom married him shortly after Barney died.”
“I never knew Barney.”
“You didn’t miss...” He stopped, stared at the cross, and at that moment realized their soured father-son relationship wasn’t all Barney’s fault.
Dr. Patterson twitched a smile and said, “Mr. Miller, I have a consent form for you to sign so we don’t have to put your mother on life-support systems. She knows she isn’t going to get any better.”
“How long will she live after...?”
Dr. Patterson shrugged and said, “Someday there will be a cure for all cancers.” He stood up and said to Randy before he left the chapel room, “I don’t think I’ll be around when that day comes.”
In the stillness of the dimly lit sanctuary, Randy remembered his life with Barney and Vivian shortly after his adoption. Vivian had been patient and perceptive. She had known they needed help talking to young Randy. Fearful over Barney’s outburst concerning therapy, Vivian had fallen into silence, her position in the marriage. With the silence had come Barney’s violent outbursts of frustration, which had led to beatings for not being able to relate to his newly adopted son. Those were horrible memories for Randy. As he had grown in his adopted family, Randy had learned that if he told Barney what he wanted to hear, the beatings stopped. So Randy had learned to lie and lie well. The fact that he had learned to lie so well had blurred the line between reality and fantasy. It hadn’t mattered at the time to Randy.
He vowed if he had children, especially sons, no matter what they did, they would be able to talk things out with their dad. But now that didn’t matter either, with the divorce. He and his wife had lived together for several months before marriage. Sex had been wonderful. Her family’s money had impressed him, and he had thought money and sex would answer all of his questions abo
ut his life. He had gotten married for all the wrong reasons and had had children for all the wrong reasons, too.
Not that he didn’t love his children; he did.
What he didn’t love was himself. Childhood hatreds were destroying his soul, his marriage. Divorce, to Randy, was the answer. If he could escape from the horrible silence between him and his wife, his life would somehow be better. Although Randy didn’t know it, peace would come only when he faced himself.
He bent down on his knees, buried his face in his hands, and wept. “Forgive me, Dad,” he said. He felt the mantel of hatred for his father disappear as his heart softened.
He fell into a light slumber only to be awakened by voices of people entering the sanctuary.
Vivian was sleeping when Randy returned. As he took her hand in his, her eyes opened, and she smiled.
“You okay?” she asked.
Randy sat on a chair next to her bed. He rested his chin on his hand, which was wrapped around the bar. “I have a lot to work on, but I don’t know where to begin.”
“Time heals all sorrows.” Vivian squeezed his hand. “If I had it to do all over again...” she whispered and then closed her eyes.
Randy laid the side of his head on her hand. “I love you, Mom.”
He felt Vivian’s hand against his head and heard her say, “I love you too, son. Always have. Always will.”
Exhausted, Randy closed his eyes.
Genesis
Seated from left to right, top row: Harry Lewis Vermilyea, born May 11, 1904, in Climbing Hill, Iowa.
My father passed away on May 15, 1949, in Sioux City, Iowa, of nephritis. He was forty-five. Edith Olive Bacon Vermilyea, born June 6, 1907. She died on July 6, 1952, in Sioux City, Iowa, of cervical cancer. She was forty-five at the time of her death also.
David Vermilyea, my brother, was born in Lawton, Iowa, on the family farm on June 1, 1926, and died on April 6, 1974. David was forty-seven when he died suddenly of a stroke due to hypertension. I never knew my brother. The young girl standing between David and Mom is my sister, Marie. She was born on June 8, 1939, in Sioux City, Iowa, and raised by an aunt and uncle in the Vermilyea family shortly before our mother died. The little guy, age six, is me. My father died of nephritis a month after this photograph was taken.
Pieces of Broken China Page 4