by Ede Clarke
Beth came in and took it from me, “Thanks. That should do just fine.”
“Yes, I think it’s enough too.”
“Only two cookies each and some milk. Please don’t take anything more or you won’t eat dinner. Although I know you don’t think that is a disaster, it is.”
“What’s ‘disster’?” asked Lizzie.
“Lizzie, I love that about you, honey,” I poured over her while pulling her silk locks between my fingers. “When I tell you you have to eat vegetables instead of cookies, your response is wanting to know a new vocabulary word.”
She smiled back at me the knowing smile of a child who knows she just made Mom proud.
“I don’t give a care about vocabulary. If I can tell Lizzie what disaster means, can I have one of her two cookies?” asked Hector.
“No!” cried Lizzie.
“Apparently not,” I confirmed for him.
“I only want one big one with chocolate chips. You two can half my other one,” offered Jackie. Always a servant. Always thinking of others and taking just enough for himself. At the age of four, where does that come from?
“We’ll see. New subject: Help me spot a good parking space. Saturday is so crazy down here in town. Do you see one yet?”
“Come on back. Now is a fine time. Don’t be silly,” Marie affirmed with a smile. We slid behind the swing door. Marie grabbed one chair from the other side of the table and brought it alongside the one near her. “Come sit and take a break,” she motioned to the chair as she sat. It did feel good to not be on my feet. “What are you guys up to today? Are the two older girls at a birthday party?”
“Yes, Beth and Clara are at Suzie Baker’s. Already dropped them off. In the meantime, after our talk here and their sugar fixes well in place, I’ll take Jackie, Lizzie, and Hector to the park for kite flying and Frisbee. I’m grateful when the weather allows this.”
“I remember being cooped up inside as a kid on rainy days. Felt like being in jail with a small window—just enough sight to know what you’re missing.”
We both laughed. Friends for a moment, with the slight feeling of work-talk creeping up on us.
“I’m glad you called me. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, too. Can I go ahead and start?”
“Of course, Marie.”
“Thanks. Well . . . About Kenny. I . . . well,” she took a big gulp of coffee and continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before it was announced to the group and I’m sorry you had no clue it was coming.”
Wow. Is she psychic? “I accept your apology, Marie. Thank you for saying that. I must tell you that I felt stupid for feeling slighted. I kept asking myself why should I care so much. You saying this affirms it was okay for me to be upset. So, thank you.”
We sat there in silence for a moment, not awkward. Actually the silence was nice because it was comfortable and pure, felt like nothing between us. I felt the pressure that as soon as we started again we would begin the new cycle of putting something back between us that we would eventually have to clear away and tear down again, like today. To some extent it made me not want to start again.
Thankfully she did instead, “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”
“Why? Why did you let him go? He said you told him his vision wasn’t big enough. I don’t understand. And, maybe one day my vision won’t be big enough too and that’ll sneak up on me as well.”
“Oh, no. Not in a million years. Don’t worry about you. Now, Kenny and me were friends for a long time, before either of us were married we knew each other and our families in Kenfield. What he said was right about his vision, but it had layers to it that I don’t want to explain. Layers that only happen over time. He understood and Bethy understood and I think that is enough. Okay?”
“Yes, ok. And, thank you.”
“Of course,” and another big swig as she rose to her feet.
“Oh, one more thing.”
“What?” as she turned away from me, headed out the swing door.
“Do I really have to take vacation,” I asked to a mass of curls at the back of her head.
“Yes,” I heard her say. Although it’s unclear if she said it to me or to the next customer on the other side of the counter that she started to engage.
“Here! Here!” cried Jackie over and over.
“No, me! Me!” cried Lizzie over and over.
Hector kept faking a toss to each of them, laughing until he could only flimsily flip his wrist and off went the Frisbee to a disappointing distance. “Neither!” Hector howled out in laughter, “Run for it. Who can get there first? Run! Run!” The three went for it. Hector obviously not doing his best and waiting for one of them to get their first.
Jackie let Lizzie lay a hand on the prize first. “I wanted it so bad,” whispered Lizzie to herself, barely audible. “And I got it!” she said a bit louder. Jackie dropped his chin as he started to scamper away to bring distance again waiting for the next throw. I could still see his smile. It was not hidden.
I read from a blanket under a tree with just enough shade to protect my fair skin. I heard a fly buzz when I died . . . “Can I have some water?” broke in and I flipped the book upside down to keep my place and began to pour for all.
“It’s so much cooler in the shade,” Hector squinted at me as he flopped half on my thigh and half on the blanket, spilling a bit of both of our waters.
“You really shouldn’t split the book like that. Mrs. Leslie just told us be careful of how we treat books,” and this came from little Lizzie.
“Really?” was all I could first respond.
“We get to go to the library for the first time next week, so she’s teaching us books.”
“Can you bring me a book about rabbits,” asked Jackie.
“You’ll get your own library trips next year, Jack,” Lizzie responded.
“Time,” Hector quietly said as he looked at me. “Right?”
“Right, dear,” I said and thought, What a thinker he is. Always seeing the abstract in what is proven. “Thirty more minutes. Use it wisely,” I spoke with great emphasis as if a dare. They briefly paused on the blanket, looking at each other. And then instantaneously exploded out into the small, unprotected field with passionate flight. Yes! Yes! Yes! My heart sings . . . The stillness round my form was like the stillness in the air between the heaves of storm.
“She’s been resting on the bed for about an hour now. She seems to be fine and Beth said it happens all the time, so I didn’t think I needed to call you,” Suzie Baker’s mother explained as I set eyes on Clara, ash-gray and lifeless on the bed.
“Hey,” sliced Beth.
“Should I wait in the car or help with Clara?”
“Best help me, dear. Thank you . . . And, thank you, Mrs. Baker.”
“Nancy, please.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Nancy.”
The next morning at work, I found myself unable to answer a simple question. My eyes welled up and my throat closed in a way that I knew if I tried to speak it would come out scratchy, forcing me to clear it. I opted not to try and instead waved off the question with a positive smirk and left shoulder nudge as I whipped through the swing door to enter the front room. It was silent. Not quite dark. Not quite light. In between. Then I broke down, all the way down to my knees. Clara! You are not alive; you are not dead. You are in between. Oh, why?! Why?!
I woke from my world as I found my face in Toura’s shoulder. “Better?” I heard.
“Much. Thank you,” I said, rising.
“Clara?”
“Yes.”
“Worse?”
“Much.”
“Nothing new from the doctors?”
“No. But, we go again this Saturday. Maybe they’ll finally figure it out—be able to put a name to it at least, you know?”
“Let me know what they say. I’ll be praying.”
“Thanks.”
We opened seven minutes later. “Mrs. Jean. Happy Monday.
How are you? We have several cinnamon twists left. Would you like one?” I offered with a smile.
After the mid-morning meeting Greg caught me with no excuse for not talking about Lake Erie. Plus, I was emotionally and mentally exhausted. No fight left. Not enough energy to be creatively elusive. “Sure. Now’s a great time to talk details,” I told him.
“Here’s the house information: address; phone; map; dates in June that work; local places to shop, eat, have fun.”
I chose to look mostly at the paper more than him. Feeling naked and raw, not really wanting to connect right then to someone I see so often, but don’t really know. “Perfect. Very helpful.”
“Look, I know you’ve had to take care of everything for a lot of years. And I know I’m new to Marie’s and Kenfield. But, I’m trying to help and let you know that we are your family and care and want you guys to have some fun.”
Yeah, that is pretty much the exact conversation I was not up to having. “Very kind. Thank you again,” I managed to say while looking him square in the eye. I meant it, but just couldn’t let it all in or let it all go out in case it came near Clara. I was not going to have that conversation.
“I know we’ve never talked about it, but I understand you don’t have any help with the kids really and moved to Kenfield to make things work. Please know you can always count on me, call me . . . whenever.”
What do I do with that? “I know.” Why did I say that? “I mean, I know how much of a caring person you are. So, thank you.”
He brought me to him and settled in for a long hug. Awkward. More awkward. Then I realized he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. So, I surrendered. Less awkward. Fairly comfortable. Fairly nice. I like it. I remember this . . . vaguely. My head finally gave way onto his chest. Safe. Not really, but it feels like safe. Close enough.
He pushed me away slightly, grabbed my shoulders in his palms and looked me in the eye, “Always.”
I smiled looking up through my eyelashes. Felt like a little girl. Didn’t so much like that. But it was worth feeling like that to feel the other. I turned to go and his hand grazed my waist. I did a half-turn of my head and caught a glimpse of the right side of his face, a red ear, flush jaw line and reddish neck. Poor guy. He’s mortified. I’m embarrassed for him. Back to work and let him escape the moment without a comment. But my hand was suddenly in his and both placed at the small of my back as our torsos were flush, my eyes at his chin. I immediately pushed my hand at his chest for leverage to get away and his other hand covered mine, encased onto his chest. “No,” I said firmly.
He dropped both his hands and stepped away and then turned away. I stood frozen. Noticed the time to be 11:10. Hours and hours to go. And, it’s Monday. Days and days to go. But that day is the doctor day. No escape.
“Can I sleep over at Suzie’s this Friday? You can call her Mom and talk to her about it,” Beth asked as she passed the rolls to me.
“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll call her tonight. Is it just the two of you?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know tomorrow what I decide. Okay?”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” We both smiled as she knew I caught her. Too cute.
“My costume was the best one at animal day. Everyone said so. Even Mean Mark,” Lizzie beamed.
Jackie started clapping, so everyone followed. Lizzie took the opportunity to stand and do her little paw cleaning act that she had practiced the previous week over and over. “Fabulous! Fabulous!” Best puppy ever. But we already new that, of course.
“Hi, Nancy. Yes, Beth told me of the invitation. Thank you . . . Yes that would be fine . . . Yes, right after school . . . Sure, that would work . . . What time on Saturday should I come by? . . . Oh, that would be wonderful if you could drop her. Thank you . . . Yes, I should be back home by five . . . Great . . . Yes, call for any reason . . . Thanks again . . . Yes . . . Good-bye.”
“Hi, Kenny. How are you and Bethy? . . . Good. Good . . . Um, I am calling because I need a favor . . . Yes . . . Are you two available to babysit this Saturday for pretty much the whole day from about 8:30 until about 5? It’ll only be three: Jackie, Lizzie and Hector . . . Yeah . . . Well, I’m taking Clara to the doctor for a 9 o’clock appointment and Beth is staying at the Baker’s Friday night and will be back Saturday around 5 . . . Really? . . . Oh, thank you so much . . . Yes, I’ll call you later in the week with details . . . Can’t thank you enough . . . okay . . . Bye . . . Bye.”
“Just wait here for a few minutes, honey, and I’ll be right back after I talk with Dr. Dave. Thanks for keeping her company,” I nodded to the nurse.
We sat in his office, a place I’ve grown to have a love-hate relationship with, as I hate the bad news that I always receive here but love the hope that medicine and research can offer, if I allow it in.
“Well?” I asked not really wanting this moment to come but hoping he would prove my fear wrong with a positive response like, “We finally know exactly what is wrong. This new test showed us everything we’ve been missing before. We have treatment that she’ll begin immediately and she’ll be better in a few days.”
“Clara is worse. Her blood flow and subsequent oxygen flow is worse than before. That is why her symptoms are getting worse. But, we really don’t know what’s causing it. So, we would like to continue to manage it, like before, with the medication and watch for any more changes.”
“Okay,” I said with a deep breath. “So we are in the same place as before, except we know she is sicker,” I pleaded with my eyebrows raised, waiting for him to finish the sentence with a great solution.
“These just might be symptoms she needs to learn to live with. She can continue to adjust to a lifestyle that is still full, but altered for her needs,” Dr. Dave said as he leaned across the table and gave me several pieces of paper about how a child can have a full lifestyle even though it’s different from every other kid you know. “Go home and read all of this and if you need to, call the number on that little card. That is a service available to counsel people in your situation and help you communicate all this to Clara, too.”
We left that medical building at 3:15 and I drove us directly to the Main Street ice cream parlor that still serves hot fudge, real hot fudge, ice cream sundaes in fountain glasses. “One butterscotch and one hot fudge please.”
We ate and talked and enjoyed the time together. At different times we both got whipped cream on our noses and told the other because it was so light we couldn’t feel it ourselves. “They gave me a number to call if we needed help talking about all of this. I might not explain it very well, but please know I’m trying.” She looked at me with an amazingly confident look. Confident in me. I don’t know if she knew that was what I needed, or if she was really feeling that way. Either way, I soaked it in and it fed me.
“Someone on the phone for you,” Beth casually told me, “Someone from Buffalo.”
I put down the mixing bowl and potato masher, “Thanks, honey. Can you finish these for me?” With a nod from Beth, I exchanged the bowl for the phone.
“Hello?” I said. It all began so normally. Then I heard his voice. The voice of the dead. Must not look like anything out of the ordinary is happening. Must appear fine.
I looked around the kitchen. Beth humming as she mashed the potatoes. She’s getting so tall and her hips are starting to form. Hector sitting at the table, quietly finishing his math homework, with a laborious look on his face. He always tries so hard at everything he does. Clara came in at one point and switched pencils with him. She didn’t say anything, but gave him a scolding look as she swapped them. He apparently had no idea a switch had ever been made in the first place and just went right back to his numbers.
Just by being in the same room as his voice, they have been tainted and don’t even realize it. Three of the five before me. Three of them to witness this invasion, this test, this nefarious spirit seeping in again. “Yes, I heard you. Of course. Hello.�
�� What else could I say? What else could I do but remain standing, remain breathing, leaning lightly against the wall brushing tops of heads as they walk back and forth in front of me. “Actually, I’m in the middle of preparing dinner right now. Is it possible for us to talk later tonight after the kids are in bed?” Seems like a reasonable request to me. What will he think? I never knew what he would think, what he would do, how he would respond.
“I’ll call you back in three hours,” he responded and then hung up.
The next three hours were long. And, then, at just the end of that time it seemed like it had gone by so fast. I found myself wishing for another three hours, over and over forever so the conversation would never have to take place. The memories came flooding back. All of the sudden it seemed I had permission to think of the things I had trained myself over the last three years to push out whenever they reared their ugly heads. While eating, while helping with homework, while bathing Lizzie and Jackie, while listening to Beth talk about a new boy at school that she doesn’t like at all, while scrubbing out a grass stain in Hector’s pants, and while sweeping the kitchen floor into the dustpan that Clara was so delicately holding, the memories came over me in ceaseless waves. In fact, they were so vivid that I felt like I was not in the present, nor in the past, but instead suspended in an in-between place of terror, not knowing what kind of change would soon be upon us. I didn’t like the feeling, but I clung to it for those three hours as if it was breath itself because I knew although it was uncomfortable, it would be better than what was surely coming.
Chapter Two
Four and a half years earlier
“Oh please, Patricia. You haven’t been on a date since college. You forget how long I’ve known you.” These words made themselves known to me through a bit of steam coming up from a mug in front of my best friend’s naturally-tanned face.
“How is it that you remain tan even in the dead of winter in Buffalo? That’s not normal, you know.”