Postcards from Abby

by Sarah Price

  “You’ve been so far away. You’ve had your moments before and I was always able to reach you. But I don’t know. Lately, it’s been just too far to reach. Part of me says the stress of work and the kids and I know I haven’t been around much to help. But then part of me thinks it’s those postcards that Abby sends you. I see how much you look forward to getting them and then you do and you’re not yourself. Maybe, deep down inside, you’re jealous of her, the life she has, the life you wish you had.”

  “Abby’s postcards? Jealous?” I had put that out of my mind and here was Michael bringing it right up to the surface again. So he had noticed the change in me.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Michael. How can you say that?” I answered, trying to ease his mind, hoping I sounded convincing.

  “Then sometimes I think . . .” Michael hesitated and then looked up to meet my gaze “ . . .maybe, it’s me.”

  “You?” I hadn’t thought about this all being Michael’s fault. I was surprised at what he was feeling. Before I had time to think about this, Michael grabbed my hand and held it in his own.

  “When I first met you, do you remember what you told me? You wanted to go to medical school and work abroad for a few years or join the Peace Corp. You didn’t want to settle down. You told me about your summers in Spain, the summers you spent growing up as a child and how you wanted to go back there with me. You talked about traveling the world and there was a fire in your eyes when you spoke. That fire, wow, it made me believe in you, made me love you. Then, in a little over a year, you got married, had children, became a teacher and somewhere, down the road, you stopped talking about the traveling, stopped talking about those things that brought you to life. What happened?”

  “I fell in love with a wonderful man.”

  “Who took you away from your dreams, who put out the fire in your eyes.” He sounded guilty.

  “You didn’t take me away. I chose to go with you.”

  “But don’t you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you hadn’t chosen me?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I wondered often what my life would have been like if I had finished medical school, backpacked across Europe, stayed single. I didn’t want to hurt Michael by saying so but I also didn’t want to lie to him.

  “Yes, I guess I do but doesn’t everyone. I’m sure you’ve thought about what life would be like for you if you hadn’t married me.”

  “You’re right. I have but I don’t regret anything I’ve done with you.”

  He paused and then spoke again, “If you knew then what you know now, would it have changed things?”

  I was caught off guard by that question and my heart fluttered, “No, it wouldn’t”

  Michael smiled and pulled me close to him with such urgency that I didn’t have time to think about what was just said between us. All I could do was feel, feel his kisses on my neck, on my breasts, the caress of his hands on my legs, my hair and his tongue gliding slowly down my body. It was impossible not to feel, at that moment, that I had made the right choice.

  Tia looks out at the beach and the waves as they crash into the sand, only to retreat back into the ocean and start again their journey of finding their way back to the beach. The noise reminds her of that night on Montauk. It seems to Tia as if she is the only one standing still as everyone, including Michael and her children, are moving forward with their lives.

  “Until now,” Tia thinks, “I should take a chance with Jack. I mean, shouldn’t I give myself a chance at being happy and finally moving on?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tia awakes to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She looks around and realizes that she has dozed off on Jack’s patio. She answers the phone with a sleepy hello and it’s Jack on the other end telling her that business at the Inn is taking longer than he had originally thought. Of course he tells her that she can stay and make herself at home. They agree to see each other later that evening for dinner at his house.

  Despite the offer, Tia does not stay but instead calls a cab and heads back to the Inn to visit with Abby. She is sure Abby will want to know every detail of her date and wonders how she will react to the news that for the first time in her life, her dearest friend threw caution to the wind last night and acted purely on impulse. Tia giggles to herself, as she pictures Abby’s surprised expression when she tells her. This kind of news will definitely give Abby a good reason to take a walk on the beach with her.

  But when she arrives at the Rioja and up to Abby’s room, a nurse who answers the door greets her. She is an older woman, with graying short hair, wearing a white t-shirt, blue jeans and sneakers. She wears no jewelry other than a simple gold band on her right hand.

  “Buenos dias. ”

  “Buenos dias. Por favor, se puede ver Abby?”

  The woman smiles and begins to speak in English. Tia can only guess that her American accent with her broken Spanish has given her away. “I’m sorry but Señorita Peters is resting. She was not well last night.”

  “What happened?”

  Panic sets in and Tia is mortified that while she was enjoying herself with Jack, Abby was in pain and suffering. She immediately feels guilty. After all, this trip is not supposed to be about herself. It’s supposed to be about spending time with Abby. How has she forgotten that?

  The nurse, seeing her reaction, tries to set her mind at ease, “Do not worry, Señorita?”

  “It’s Vale, but please, call me Tiadora.”

  The nurse nods and smiles in understanding, “She is on medicine now and is not in any pain. The doctor just left.”

  “May I see her please?”

  The nurse looks from behind the door, unsure of whether to let Tia in. Tia can hear a voice calling out, low and groggy. Whatever the voice said, the nurse complies and opens the door, letting Tia walk into the room.

  Tia gasps as she sees Abby lying on the bed, looking small and tired. Her eyes are closed. Her skin is pale. Hesitantly, Tia walks slowly, moving closer to the bed. She doesn’t want to see her friend this way. She doesn’t want to face the fact that all of this will end.

  The nurse stands right behind her, giving her instructions, “She needs her rest so please, if you stay, try not to tire her too much. She hasn’t eaten today so if you can get her to put something into her stomach, that would be good.” The woman’s English is beautiful with a lovely Spanish accent. It sounds like a song with gentle lilts. Unfortunately, Tia realizes that the sound of the nurse’s pretty voice masks the unspoken ugliness of what is happening. The nurse points to the table by her bed, “There’s some soup and crackers for her.”

  Tia turns and gives her a weak smile, “Muchas gracias.”

  She smiles back and nods, “De nada. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Tia turns back to the bed. She sits on a wooden chair that has been placed near where Abby is lying. No doubt where the nurse has been sitting all this time. Abby turns her head slightly and opens her eyes. Tia smiles and tries to make light of the situation, knowing that Abby hates the sympathy and pity of others, even from her closest friend, “I leave you for two days and this is what happens.”

  “Ha,” Abby says, trying to sound lively. Her voice sounds small but she still manages to interrogate Tia. “Stop stalling and start talking. What happened with the Spanish Heartthrob?”

  “We had a nice time,” Tia answers, offering nothing more, knowing that Abby will persist.

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  Tia smiles, happy and relieved to see that Abby is still well enough to tease her. “Wow, getting right to the point, why don’t you?”

  Abby’s eyes close again and she looks anguished, so much so that it stops Tia in her tracks. “Abby, are you alright?”

  Abby raises her right hand slightly and waves Tia off. “Just a headache. I’m going to close my eyes for a while so that it goes away. You keep talking though.”

  Tia doesn’t know if that’s a good idea. “Why don’t I let you res
t and I’ll come back later when you are feeling better.”

  Abby opens her eyes again and in them, Tia sees fear. “Tia, please, talk to me. I need to hear your voice. It takes my mind off of the pain.”

  “Are you sure?” Abby nods her head and Tia knows she cannot ignore her request. “OK. Where do you want me to begin?”

  “From the beginning and leave nothing out.”

  Tia smiles, holding in the tears that she can feel springing up in her eyes. With the brightest voice she can muster, Tia tells Abby all about her date with Jack, sparing almost no detail. She doesn’t tell her about her fear of goodbyes and her thoughts of Sarah. She doesn’t want to burden Abby with her own problems. It’s enough that she has done that for most of their friendship. What she needs now is a fairytale and a happy ever after. So with that, Tia begins to weave her story and it’s a story she enjoys reliving. Half way through, she looks over to Abby, whose eyes are closed and her breathing deep.

  “Abby?” Tia places her hand on Abby’s shoulder and realizes that she has drifted off to sleep.

  Tia lets out a long sigh and the tears she tried so hard to hold back rise up to her eyes. Only this time, she doesn’t hold them in and instead lets them fall. She’s grateful that Abby cannot see her in such a mess. She is grateful that Abby is asleep, escaping pain if only for a little while. She is grateful for the silence. She wonders how had she gone from getting drunk with her friend on the beach, to making love to Jack and then to seeing Abby powerless and weak in bed?

  Tia’s mind goes back to where it was just a few hours before, when she was sitting on Jack’s patio, thinking about Michael. It goes back to the last time Tia felt helpless and out of control.

  Tia and Michael

  Even after the weekend trip to Montauk and our long talk, things didn’t change between Michael and I. Michael was still wrapped up in his work, coming home very late on weekdays and fixing up the house on weekends. The children and their activities consumed all of my days. Most of the time, I was happy with my life. But every once in a while, a postcard would arrive in the mail and change my view of the world again. For this, I had Abby to thank or, in Michael’s case, Abby to blame.

  Time had gone by so fast that by the time I knew it, the kids were grown up and didn’t seem to need me anymore. Gone were the PTA meetings, the carpooling to soccer practices and dance recitals. Jaime and Javier were finishing up high school and both were looking at colleges. As most high school juniors do, Jake wanted to tour some of the schools he was interested in sending an application. On one weekend in early fall, Javi was invited to an Experience College weekend at Cornell University in Upstate New York. Michael and I drove him there on a Friday afternoon, promising to pick him up on Sunday morning. On the way back home, driving along a solitary stretch of highway, we both decided it was best to separate.

  It was a very quiet car ride home. No words were spoken and no sound, except for the buzz of the radio playing Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain.” As I was drifting into sleep by the motion of the car, Michael finally spoke.

  “Tia, I think we should get a divorce. I’ve given this a lot of thought and it’s not working between us anymore.”

  I didn’t say a word. I wasn’t even surprised. I had known this was coming for a long time. I just didn’t want to be the one to do it, to say the words. Finally, I asked calmly, “What do we do next?”

  “Well, I think we should talk about it first, just you and I. Then, we can talk to the kids together once we’ve settled things. I think it will go much smoother that way.”

  That night, we did talk. We talked about the finances, who would get what, who would live where, what to tell the kids. Michael agreed that I should stay at the house with the children, while he found a place of his own. It was only fair, Michael offered, given the fact that the kids needed stability and as teenagers, would probably take it hard. The conversation was very civil, like our marriage had been. There were no arguments, no sarcasm or condescending words and instead of the silence that had come between us for many years, for the first time in a long while, we were actually talking and sharing our feelings. It just came too little, too late. After we picked up Jake on Sunday, we told the kids. To my surprise, they took it well. Apparently, they had sensed it was coming to this for a while too. And here I thought I was doing such a good job hiding it from them.

  A month later, Michael moved out. Six months later, he was dating again and four months after that and almost a year to the date after our decision to separate and with our divorce finalized, Michael remarried.

  How did it get to this point? Married people change-they’re not the same people they start out as. Somewhere between working, late night dinners, garage cleaning weekends and mortgage payments, a change occurs and you either embrace it as a couple, or you drift apart. With Michael and me, it was much easier to choose the second option. It started out as disagreements, which quickly evolved into fights, and then it became many fights. Fights on important things, like money, the kids, where to move. Then it was fights on the not so important things, like calling to let the person know they would be late, where to go on vacations. Then it was fights over the stupid things, like what TV show to watch together, what color to paint the bedroom wall. Then the fights turned into silence, calm and cold shoulder.

  The worse thing that can happen to a marriage is living together in silence because it means no more communication; it means that you both stop caring enough to try anymore. It just gets too hard to talk to each other because you know it’ll eventually lead into a fight. You expect it, you maybe looking for it and even start it. So, what happens is that you stop talking to avoid the fights but avoiding the fights means avoiding each other and that becomes the end of the marriage. That is exactly what happened between Michael and I and it was no one’s fault and both of our faults all at once. In the end, you can play the blame game and be bitter or you can take the high road and try to save some of the good that came from twenty years of living together. I’d like to think that it was exactly what we tried to do.

  Tia sits with Abby for two hours as she sleeps. By the time she begins to wake, the nurse has come back from her break but still Tia does not leave the chair where she’s been sitting since she came into the room. In hushed conversation, the nurse gives Tia terrifying yet invaluable insight into Abby’s condition, “She’s entering the final stage.”

  “How do you know?” Tia questions the nurse, trying desperately to poke holes in her prognosis even though she knows she’s talking to a medical professional, “She looked great the other day-talking, laughing, I don’t understand, how can she be near the end?”

  The nurse does not take offense at Tia’s tone, no doubt from her experience in dealing with difficult families in denial about their loved ones’ terminal condition, “Each case is different, Tia, and sometimes, a person with the type of cancer Abby has deteriorates slowly over time and others are fine one day and the next day begin to slide. Abby is in that second category.”

  “So what can we expect?” Tia asks but it’s as if she is floating above, watching someone else ask these questions.

  “Like I said before, each person is different but, in general, she’ll most likely sleep more, stop eating and lose focus. Her speech may become impaired and she may at times be confused and repeat herself.”

  “How long?” Again, with the difficult questions.

  “I can’t tell you for sure.”

  “Of course, I understand.” Tia nods in agreement but doesn’t really believe what she is saying because the truth is she doesn’t understand why this is happening.

  “All we can do is respect her wishes and make her as comfortable as we can.”

  “And when you say wishes, you mean?”

  “Señorita Peters was very specific about her treatments. She only wants medication to manage the pain. She does not want to be kept alive through artificial means. ”

  Tia looks over at Abby who is stirring. Sh
e thanks the nurse and walks back over to the bed, “Hey sleepyhead. You’re living the life of leisure here sleeping the day away.”

  “You’re still here?” Abby picks up her head and tries to shift her body up. Tia holds her from underneath both of her arms and helps her to an upright sitting position on the bed. She then places two pillows behind her head to rest on.

  “Where else would I be?”

  “With our innkeeper.”

  “No, I’m not going anywhere.” And although Tia is not looking at Abby, too busy with pouring a glass of water for her from the pitcher on the end table, she can sense Abby’s eyes bearing down on her.

  “Did you have plans with him?” Abby asks in a tone that implies that she already knows the answer.

  And because she knows better, Tia tells her the truth, “Just dinner tonight but I’m going to call him and cancel.”

  “You will do no such thing!” Her voice is forceful and in command.

  “Abby, I’m not leaving you.”

  “You act like I’m going somewhere.” Tia doesn’t respond, afraid of the catch in her throat, if she does. So instead, Abby speaks, calmly this time, “I want you to go.”

  “I can’t,” is all Tia is able to say.

  “Don’t you dare use me as an excuse.” She raises her voice and Tia can hear the anger but instead of responding in kind, Tia simply whispers, “I’m here for you, not for me.”

  Abby is silent for a moment and then quietly pleads with Tia, “Then listen to what I want. I want you to go.”

  “Abby…”

  “Tia, go, please, for me.”

  Tia and Abby

  Telling Abby about my divorce was one of a handful of times in our friendship where I did not write her a postcard-the other times being my engagement to Michael and the birth of my children. This kind of news, I felt, deserved a phone call. She took it as I expected Abby would-with an invitation to visit her in Argentina. Although she was sad for me, I believe part of her was very happy to have her friend back, if not completely broken, at least amenable to being fixed.