'Til I Want No More

by Robin W. Pearson

  “But what if my folks move to Mobile before then?”

  “Then you’ll come up sooner. They can’t make my wife do anything she doesn’t want to, including leave her husband.”

  He made it sound possible, and not only possible but right. It was why Maxine found herself dressed in this 1960s sheath on her way to a justice of the peace in Richmond, Virginia. Why she was bailing on John’s plans to move them all to Alabama. Why she’d finish up high school in New Jersey. So why am I shaking? Maxine tried to focus on the dashed white lines in the road before they disappeared in a blur. But then JD squeezed her hand and drew her eyes back to him. Oh, that’s why.

  Maxine smiled a little less brilliantly, but happiness still warmed her face. “You know we’re crazy. This is crazy.”

  “Why? Why is it crazy? It’s not like we’re planning to drop out of school, and we’re still going to college. We’re only getting married a little earlier than most people. Didn’t your parents get married at an early age? Mine did.”

  “Know something else my dad did at an early age? He died. And your parents got divorced.” Maxine cracked her window and stared out.

  “Maxine.” He tickled the back of her hand. “Maxie.”

  She turned to him.

  “I’ve always been ambitious. When I know what I want, I go after it, and I hold on to it. And I want you. Now stop your worrying. Close your eyes and take a nap. When you wake up, we’ll be there. I think we have a long night ahead of us.”

  Her toes curled as warmth surged into them and crept up her body. She closed her eyes. Mrs. James Lester.

  ________

  Maxine opened her eyes when the music stopped, interrupting her reverie. “Why’d you stop playing? It sounded beautiful—technically. It wasn’t coming from your heart though.”

  “Then what were you smiling about, if something sounded off?” Celeste set her bass on its stand and wiped her hands on her white denim capris.

  Maxine watched Celeste shuffle around the music room. She said nothing as the girl plopped on the piano stool and played some notes with her right hand only. C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C. No sharps, no flats.

  In the middle of adding a second octave to the first eight notes, the teen rotated to face Maxine. Her fingers left a discordant trail behind her on the baby grand. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “What? The C scale? You know it backward and forward, like the solo you’ve been practicing for the past hour.” Maxine wanted to lighten the heavy mood swirling about the room like a low-level cloud.

  “Not just the solo. My life.”

  Maxine’s heart rate skipped into triple time and the skin on the back of her neck twitched though she fought to keep her face impassive. Swallowing her desire to jump in with both feet, Maxine feigned interest in a torn cuticle. “The solo, I get. But what do you mean, your life?”

  “It’s too hard. Everything is too hard.” Celeste used her toes to set her piano stool in motion.

  After a few moments watching first the left side of Celeste’s face and then the right . . . left . . . right, Maxine rose from the love seat and caught the girl’s shoulder, knocking her off-balance. Maxine knelt on one knee before her as the stool rocked to a standstill. “What’s too hard, Celeste? You can tell me.” This is my fault. My own life is spinning out of control, and now so is hers.

  “Can I, Maxine? I don’t think so.” Celeste caved in on herself.

  Maxine gathered her close, and the two sank to the rug. It was then Maxine realized how much weight the teen had lost. She had always been solid, physically and emotionally. But now Maxine could feel Celeste’s ribs through her shirt, see her shoulder blades protrude from her thin back in sharp angles. Celeste’s arms could hold her double bass and wield her bow but seemed too weak to hold back the sobs as she locked her hands together around her bent knees and shook like the last autumn leaf clinging to a limb.

  “Shh. Shh.” Afraid words would blow away Celeste altogether, Maxine stroked her braids and rocked her in a circular motion, as if they were still turning on the stool. It wasn’t until Celeste shifted that Maxine relaxed her hold. She peeked at the tear-soaked face and pulled away just enough to stretch for the ever-present box of Kleenex. Mother kept one in each room of their sprawling house. The one on the piano was nearly empty. Maxine shook her head. Probably since Robert’s last tantrum over practicing.

  “Do you want to talk? What can I do to help?”

  Celeste shrugged.

  “Even if I can’t help you feel better, will you help me feel better? If you’re this worried about the solo, I can talk to the conductor. Or I can talk to the doctor if it’s your heart or you feel weak. Should I call First J—?”

  Celeste’s head shook no vigorously, setting her whole body aquiver.

  Maxine sighed and considered for a minute. “Once, when I’d only been living with Mama Ruby two or three months, I came home . . . just worked up. She sat there with me on the porch steps and let me cry it out. Then she whispered one of her favorite songs over and over, and we sat some more. Finally I was able to tell her how much I missed Mother.”

  Maxine cradled Celeste’s trembling fingers and hummed what Mama Ruby had sung to her that long-ago day, hoping to reassure the girl that sometimes, it was impossible to find the words to express pain and heartache. After a verse or two, Celeste wiggled her fingers at the right point in the song, and Maxine smiled. It wasn’t quite a wave, but she took it as a sign that Celeste understood and was surrendering, accepting help.

  Maxine could see herself huddled on those steps in Spring Hope, heartbroken. Wishing Vivienne could attend her school’s Mother’s Day tea, not her grandmother. She hadn’t wanted Ruby to feel rejected, to feel as less than as she felt. After that moment on the porch, Maxine added Mama to her grandmother’s name. Because that’s what she’d become, what Vivienne now was to Celeste.

  At that moment, Maxine would’ve run to either Mama Ruby or her mother and thrown herself in her lap. They’d know what to do in this situation, those constant, loud voices of reason.

  “I don’t want to press you, but when you say things like ‘My life is too hard,’ it scares me. A lot. And I just can’t ignore it. Should I get Mother?”

  “No!” Celeste wrenched away from Maxine. “She’ll make a big deal out of this. She’s already freaking out about the doctor’s visits and this solo, and Elisabeth Willis has been hounding her about her birthday party.”

  “Okay, okay, I won’t get her. But you know Mother’s not the ‘freak-out’ type, Celeste.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t lose it the way you do, but she does in her own way. When she knows something’s wrong, she won’t stop until she figures out how to fix it, even if that means pulling a magic trick to make us forget there was ever a problem in the first place.” Celeste swiped her nose and dropped her used tissue on the rug beside her.

  “Eew, Celeste, stop.” Maxine scooped the wet tissues into a pile and stuffed them into the now-empty tissue box, anything to mask her shock that Celeste recognized Vivienne’s smoke-and-mirrors routine. She walked toward the wastebasket near the pocket doors.

  “. . . leave me.” Celeste’s voice seemed to tiptoe across the room.

  Maxine glanced at the teen over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but did you ask me to leave you?”

  “No. I said . . .” The girl’s chest heaved. “You’re always in an all-fired hurry to leave me . . . in Mama’s care.”

  “What?” Maxine blinked slowly, her mouth open. Girl, stop catching flies, she imagined Mama Ruby ordering, and she snapped her lips together.

  “What does she know that you don’t? Or Daddy? Is there something more they can tell me that you can’t?”

  “Well . . . you should be able to turn to your parents when you need help. They’ll love you through the tough times. Isn’t that what you want?” This time, it was Maxine’s voice that tried to hide.

  “How does the song go? ‘You can’t always get what you want . . .’
? You went through a lot yourself as a teenager. How did you handle it?” Celeste plucked at the threads sprouting from the holes in her denim-covered thigh.

  By killing your father. Maxine considered the details of the fairy tale she’d woven so long ago, wishing she could mumble Rumpelstiltskin and make the whole situation go away, never to be seen again. Maxine let the box tumble from her hand and wished the truth could roll off her tongue as easily. She turned slowly to face Celeste as she weighed her words on a mental scale. “With the help of family.”

  “Mom and Dad, you mean.”

  “Well, yes, of course.”

  “I wish I could.”

  Maxine strove to get a better read on all that Celeste hadn’t said, but she couldn’t see her face. The girl kept toying with the squished aglets of her shoelaces. Maxine held her breath, knelt before her, and tapped on the hardwood floor beside her sneakers. “Celeste.”

  Suddenly focused, the teen pressed her fingers against Maxine’s lips as she sent her long braids fluttering around her shoulders with a shake of her head. “No worries, I’m okay. I just needed to cry it out, like you did with Grandma. Don’t worry. I’ve worked too hard on this solo to jump off a cliff between now and Saturday night.”

  Maxine clutched Celeste’s fingers. “Celeste! This isn’t something to joke about. Maybe it’s time we talk.”

  “Maybe?” Suddenly the girl’s voice sounded stronger, more in control. And eerily like her father’s. Like JD’s. Celeste squeezed Maxine’s hand and then stood. The salty outlines on her face were the only evidence of her breakdown. “I said I’m okay. I’ve always handled it because butts are for gettin’ it done, right?”

  “But yours doesn’t have to go rogue. You’re not alone.” Maxine pushed herself to her feet and stretched to embrace Celeste.

  She moved toward her bass and out of Maxine’s reach. “You have Teddy. Mama and Daddy have each other. The twins do their twin thing. Zan is . . . Zan, happy bouncing his basketball. It’s always been me. And that’s okay, Max. I just had a moment. That’s what thirteen-year-olds do, right? Especially soon-to-be fourteen-year-olds.” She twiddled with her bow. “I should practice. Two days are going to zip by.”

  Maxine hesitated. She knew she had dropped a very important, heavy ball. “Do you want me to listen?” She watched Celeste consider it for a moment.

  “I think I’ve got it.”

  “Well . . . okay. If you’re sure. You know where to find me if—when—you need me.”

  She nodded. “I know you’re always looking out for me . . . Sis.”

  Inwardly, Maxine cringed as she left the room. She leaned against the pocket doors as Celeste resumed her practice. Now it sounded like she was putting her whole heart into it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  MAXINE HOPPED ONTO one of the two stools at the glistening countertop. She balanced her toes on the top rail to keep her feet from swinging back and forth as she gazed around the cavernous kitchen.

  “Ready for your blind tasting?” Hands tied a scarf around her eyes.

  The soft fabric seemed to hinder her speech as well as her sight. Maxine only nodded as the stainless steel appliances disappeared behind the strip of silk. She swiveled from side to side on the stool while her fingers tapped out “Here Comes the Bride” on the cool marble.

  “Here’s the first.”

  Smiling, Maxine gripped the fork and plate and dug in. “Mmm. Sweet. Too sweet.”

  She set aside the first dish and accepted a second. Maxine wrinkled her nose after only a nibble. “Coffee?” Almost before she could swallow, she felt a whoosh of air and heard the clink of glass. She took a bite—and immediately let it roll out of her mouth onto the plate. “Ugh. Is that fruitcake? For a wedding?”

  A large hand gripped her right shoulder before setting down a glass of water.

  As Maxine sipped, she turned her head this way and that, awaiting the next serving. It wasn’t long in coming. After tasting it, she delicately plucked a minuscule flake from her tongue. Coconut.

  The clatter of another dessert plate followed that one. “Mmm. Love carrot cake, but Teddy doesn’t like nuts. Where is he anyway? We’re supposed to do this stuff together.” She patted the empty stool beside her to see if he was there.

  Then a swish of air announced another dish. She fiddled around for the fork and slid it into her mouth. A second later, she whipped off her blindfold and tossed it to the counter. “Yes!”

  Before her on the counter sat six plates, five partially eaten cakes adorned with varying combinations of fondant, ornate frosting, swirls, flowers, chocolate, and cream cheese. But not the sixth. The last was a plain lemon pound cake. No glaze, icing, or decoration. She recognized Mama Ruby’s cake that she usually served with a fried chicken wing, a hunk of cheddar, or both. Maxine’s favorite, what she’d known all along.

  A voice boomed. “This is the one.”

  ________

  Maxine woke to angry, high-pitched voices.

  “Hey!”

  “But I want to play this one!”

  “I don’t care. It’s my turn to pick. We played Cranium last time, so this time I pick Qwirkle.”

  “Ma-ax!”

  Maxine untangled her legs from her sheets and blanket and walked into her living room to find Robert and Second John shoving each other.

  “Uh-uh, guys. Cut it out. What are you two doing here?”

  “Mama said you’re supposed to watch us. She had to meet Uncle Roy and then buy groceries before the concert.” Robert dropped a canvas bag by the door.

  “And she has a key, remember?”

  Maxine slapped her head, scattering any traces of grogginess. The concert!

  Robert pointed to her hand. “When did Teddy give you that?”

  She looked at her ring finger. Oops. “A friend let me borrow it a long time ago. I need to give it back.”

  “What’s her name?” Second John set down his stack of board games.

  JD, she answered silently as she gently slid off the ring. She’d fallen asleep after trying it on the night before. “I’ll be right back, guys.” In her bedroom, Maxine ran her finger around the sapphire’s beveled edge. Then she set the white gold band in its small velvet box and slipped it into the zipper pocket in her purse.

  When she returned to her brothers, Maxine angled a thumb at the bag by the door. “Whatchya’ll got there?”

  “Chips and salsa, ham, turkey, Swiss cheese, some bread. Can we eat now?”

  “Robbie, you’re always hungry. Let’s pla-ay!” Second John rolled his eyes.

  “Guys, come on. Quit whining and fussing. Mother probably won’t be back for several hours, so we’ll have plenty of time for you to eat.” She pulled the curl on Robert’s widow’s peak. “And for you to play.” She poked Second John. “But first, I need coffee. Then we’ll eat and fight over who plays what first.”

  Four hours, two board games, some sandwiches, and a bowl of chips and salsa later, Maxine packed up the boys and sent them back across the driveway to help her mother unload groceries from her Volvo. She leaned out the door and called down, “I need to take your key!”

  Vivienne smiled over her armload. “You need to give me yours! See you at 5:30!”

  Maxine shook her head and waved off Vivienne’s comment, but once inside, she couldn’t dismiss her words. She faced her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Hmm. Is it time I move out? And leave Celeste? But I’m getting married soon—why now? Because you’ve never lived on your own. You’ve gone from your parents, to JD, a group home, back to your parents, and soon to Teddy.

  She turned away from the mirror and flicked on her closet light. “Well, before you pack your things, Maxine, you need to figure out what you’re wearing to the concert. Pantsuit? Too stuffy. Gray skirt and cardigan? Blah. Skinny jeans? With a frilly sweater and tall boots? Is that dressy enough? Do I even have a frilly sweater?” She pushed aside a few more hangers before leafing back to the pantsuit. She hooked it across the door.r />
  Bzzz. Bzzz.

  Maxine scanned her dresser—bzzz, bzzz—and the kitchen counters for her phone. Bzzz. Bzzz. She spotted it on her desk, and breathless, she pressed the button. “Hello?”

  “I see I still take your breath away.”

  Her heart tumbled down to her toes. Grateful for the chair, she sank into it. “Jay. JD.”

  He chuckled low in his throat. “Still don’t know what to do with me, huh? That wasn’t always the case.”

  “Oh, I know what to do with you.”

  “Is that right? And what would that be?”

  Maxine pursed her lips. Part of her wished she could chuck him into the deepest ocean, but she suspected he would float rather than sink and make it back to shore.

  “Maxie?”

  “I see you don’t know what to do with me either.”

  JD’s sigh filled the silence humming on the line between them. “No, I don’t. And I’m not used to that. I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t like it either. How are you? Are you enjoying the new job with Hillsong?” Maxine’s shoulders relaxed. His frankness she could always handle.

  “I am. Not so much the paperwork and people management, but what’s not to love about the kids?”

  She pictured her brothers’ faces as they fought over board games.

  JD continued. “And being with my family. We’re getting to know each other again, even as Mom slowly forgets who I am. I’m learning more about Evelyn, and I get to watch my niece grow. It’s good. Hard and good. I have to say though, this slower pace of life takes some adjustment. This ain’t New York.”

  Maxine snickered. “Maybe not, but I bet you can’t find sweet potato cobbler like Mama Ruby’s in the big city.”

  “You’ve got that right. Does this mean you’re okay with my visiting them?” His low voice tickled her ear.

  She touched her cheek, for a second imagining his beard against it. “As my grandparents told me in so many words, your visit is none of my business. You’re family. Just making yourself t’home.”

  “That’s the idea. You know how I feel about them.”