“Look who the cat dragged out of the gutter!” Holly presented Olivia, who appeared to shrink before her mother’s eyes. She hid her eyes behind her bangs, and worried the leaf in her hand.
“Livi, what were you doing out there?” Megan’s eyes sent a mixed message of anger and concern.
“I…I was taking a walk,” Olivia lied.
“Aw, come on, Olivia,” Holly interrupted, “she wanted to see our ritual.” over pronouncing “ritual” so Olivia would see that she was on her side. “What do you think?” Megan sauntered toward the garden and began picking flowers, her back to Olivia and Holly.
“Olivia, you’ve seen us do this every year. You already know what we do,” Peter said.
“No, I don’t! I’m never allowed out here. No one is! This is your special time. It’s like this big cloak-and-dagger club or something! Like you offer up sacrifices and wear garlic around your neck!” Her hip jutted out in a typical angry teenage stance.
“Come on, now, it’s never that secretive. We’ve been doing this since we were your age. It’s our way of….of—” Holly’s sentence dropped off as Peter interrupted.
“Coming together, airing out our minds, cleansing our souls.” Peter noticed Megan had inched further away. “Just ask your mother.”
Megan turned and wondered how it was that in fourteen years she had never noticed how much strength her daughter possessed. How could she have let this distance come between them? “Olivia, come here.” Yearning to say more, but unable, she pulled Olivia into her arms, and held her so close that she could count the beats of her heart. She had to protect Olivia from becoming too close to her, from seeing the outcome of tonight’s ritual. “I’m sorry.”
“See! I knew it! Whatever!” Olivia ripped herself from her mother’s arms and stormed into the house.
“What the hell, Megan?” Holly demanded. She walked purposefully toward her and stopping within inches of Megan’s pained face. “You two were so close, what happened? You guys act like strangers! I’ve never seen you so cold.”
“It’s just that…I can’t be close to her now. It’s not the time. It will hurt her too much. I’m not myself, it’s not like it was years ago.” Megan’s eyes filled with tears as she lowered herself onto her heels, elbows on knees, no longer having the strength to stand up.
“Meg, this is the time. There is no better time. She needs you. She needs to feel close to you,” Holly said, suddenly seeing Megan again as a young girl, a mere shadow of her former self.
“It will hurt her too much. It’ll make it harder in the end,” Megan said, quietly.
Holly knelt down, and laid her hands on Megan’s shoulders. “It’ll be harder if she remembers you in a bad light. Let her in. She can handle this. She needs this. Let her know how great you are for god’s sake.” Holly looked at Peter. “We already know how great you are, Meg, she needs to remember you as we all do.”
Megan stayed there, unable to stand, for a long time. When she stood, her legs felt unstable. Holly reached down to help her up, but Megan swiped at her hand, shooing her away. She steadied herself and took careful steps toward the house, unsure of each step, and unsure of her own emotions.
Megan approached Olivia’s room with a pounding heart and a veil of confusion. She loved Olivia and didn’t want to hurt her. Couldn’t Olivia see that she was trying to create space so it wouldn’t hurt so badly when she was gone? Then it hit her—hard. If all went as planned, tomorrow, she would not be there. What the hell was she doing? Olivia was her daughter! Megan stood up straighter, chiding herself for being so selfish. She smoothed her hair and put one hand on Olivia’s doorknob, assuming she would be met with Olivia’s pouting and angry face. She pushed the door open and took in the colorful dragonflies that hung from the ceiling, remembering the laughter that filled the room as she and Olivia stood on the bed and reached for the ceiling to tack them up. The bright quilted comforter displayed haphazard shapes and forms, covered by neon and fuzzy pillows in greens and oranges, and stuffed animals that had been slept with for so many years that they had become dingy and matted. Instantly, she recognized the feeling of emptiness in the room, and wondered if that was how her own room would soon feel.
She yielded to the pain that was burning in her stomach and accepted it as Olivia’s anger, her hatred. She walked to the dresser and ran her finger along the edge, remembering when Holly had given it to Olivia. “every little girl needs white furniture with gold trim,” Holly had said. Megan smiled at the memory. She sat in Olivia’s chair, and swore she could feel her daughter’s body within her own.
She reached into the drawers, though she knew she shouldn’t, and lifted out Olivia’s diary. Her heart beat faster.
She listened carefully for Olivia’s footsteps. She’d never done this before, always believing that everyone needed a few secrets. The silence vibrated in her ears, and with shaking hands she opened the small leather bound journal, flipping quickly and carefully to the pages nearest the end.
April 16, 2009.
It’s like Mom doesn’t want me around so much anymore. She still watches tv with me and stuff like that, but sometimes it’s like she wishes I wasn’t here. I think she’s getting sicker, but she said she’s not. I think she’s lying to me. Sometimes I hate her.
April 17, 2009
Mom isn’t doing so good. She’s been lying around on the couch and Holly had to come over again tonight to make dinner and take care of us. I wish I could take care of Mom, but whenever I try to she tells me that it’s not my job. I like it when Holly is here. She would be a good mother. I wonder why she doesn’t have kids. Anyway, she takes good care of Mom and me when she’s here. She wipes Mom’s head with a wet cloth and I hear her whispering nice things and then they laugh. She helps me with my homework and stuff, too. I hear Mom crying at night sometimes. I started to go into her room last night, but stopped outside her door and ran back to my room. I didn’t want to embarrass her. I hope she’s okay.
Megan flipped forward a few pages.
April 30, 2009.
Tomorrow is Mom’s birthday. I got her the best present! Holly picked me up after school and we went and got a picture taken of me and her, then we bought a really fancy frame and we signed our name in ink, just like the stars do! I think she’ll love it. She always calls me her shining star! I know Mom’s going to die. She told me. I don’t want her to. I will miss her so much! I keep thinking maybe she won’t die, and I asked Holly when Mom was going to get better, but she just turned away and said she didn’t know. I know she’s not, but maybe if I ask enough she will. I love her so much. What will I do without her? Sometimes I feel so mean for being mad at her, but sometimes I am mad at her. I can’t help it. Sometimes I feel like it’s her own fault she’s sick.
Mom’s acting weird again. Today she spent all night sitting next to me, talking to me about Grandma and Holly and school and all sorts of stuff. I wish she didn’t have to die. Maybe God is punishing me by taking her away. I asked her if she knew when she would die, and she just said that God will do whatever he has to and that she loves me. She said that she would always be with me, even if God took her away. She said that she would find a way to contact me if she died. We both cried. I was so sad. I don’t want Mommy to die. But I don’t want Mommy to hurt either, and I know she does. I hate God!
Anyway, Billy likes me now. His friend Charlie told me so.
Megan wiped her tears with her sleeve; the rough sweater lightly scratched her cheeks. She flipped backward toward the beginning of the journal.
May 2, 2004.
We had so much fun today! I stayed home from school today because I said I was sick (I think she knew I was faking!) and we played all sorts of games. She made brownies and we laid around in our pajamas all day! She didn’t paint or get on the phone or anything! We watched movies on Lifetime, real grown up shows! Mom let me eat as much popcorn as I wanted. It was so cool!
Megan closed the diary and settled it back in the drawer. As she
was closing the drawer, a paper pushed out from under it—stuck to the bottom of the drawer. Megan opened the letter, recognized her daughter’s scrawl, and read it.
January 2007
Dear Mom, I’m sorry you are so sick. I wish you weren’t. Sometimes I wish that I was you instead of you being you. Then you wouldn’t hurt so much. I know it’s selfish, but I wonder what will happen to me if something bad happens to you? I wonder where I will go and who will take care of me. Grandma is too old to have to worry about me. I wish I knew who my dad was. Maybe he would want to take care of me. Sometimes I’m so mad at you for being sick. I know I shouldn’t be, but sometimes I am. Mom, please get better.
Please, please get better. I love you always and forever, Livi XXOO
Tears streamed down her cheeks and onto the letter, leaving small wet spots. She jumped as she heard Olivia walk into her room.
“Mom! What are you doing?” She demanded with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Did you go in my desk?”
Megan, too tired and too sad to fight, turned in the chair to face her angry daughter. “I was looking for you,” was all she could manage.
Olivia snagged the letter from her mother’s hand and sat on the bed. Tears finally sprang free from her angry eyes. “Great. Thanks for looking at my stuff. That’s just—” She looked down and ripped up the letter. “It’s a stupid letter. I wrote it when you first got sick. My counselor at school said it might make me feel better, but it didn’t.”
Megan moved next to her daughter, letting her head hang with the weight of a bag of flour. “Oh, Olivia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get sick. I didn’t mean to be a bad mom, or a mom who didn’t pay enough attention to you.” “But you did pay attention to me, Mom!” Her voice carried through the house, her hurt raged in violent streams. “You paid tons of attention to me, remember? Before you got sick? it’s just that now, now you don’t…or can’t…or whatever. Now it just sucks.”
Megan’s heart broke with each of Olivia’s words. She fingered the pile of pills in her pocket, thinking that perhaps now wasn’t the right time to go. She needed more time to help her daughter understand her illness, to just be with her, emotionally and physically—and as much as she hadn’t wanted to do it, she now felt an urgent need to tell Jack that he was Olivia’s father.
“Livi, I’m so sorry. I want to be here for you all the time. It’s just this damn sickness. I hate what it does to me and what it takes from you! it takes all of my energy—every bit of my strength. Sucks it right out of me and leaves me empty. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you if I could, don’t you know that?” Megan reached out to Olivia, but Olivia stood and backed away.
“Yeah, I know, Mom, but it hurts. Damn it, I hurt too, you know?”
Megan heard the back door open as Olivia continued to admonish her.
“It hurts so much to see you sick and not know when you’ll get better, or if you even will. It kills me, Mom! And you act like I’m not here sometimes—like you don’t want me around—like tonight!” Olivia sobbed. She swiped at the tears that ran down her cheeks, but was unable to stop the flow.
Megan was taken aback at Olivia’s words, when you’ll get better. Did she not understand their talk the other night or was she just in denial?
“Oh, Livi! What can I do?” Megan asked. “I want you there tonight, but I’m afraid, too. What if it makes you closer to me, and then if…If…If something happens and you are too close to me, then you are left—” she couldn’t continue. Sobs wracked her slight body.
Olivia stepped in front of Megan and knelt down, taking her fragile hands in her own young, strong hands. “But Mom, that’s what I’m supposed to be, close to you. I’m your daughter.” She laid her head in her mother’s lap, and Megan rested her head on top of her daughter’s. Together they cried. “I’d rather be with you than not with you…every day…until the end.”
Megan heard footsteps recede down the hall. She lifted Olivia’s sad face and cradled it in her hands. “Livi, I am very sick. I might even die soon, but there’s one thing you must know.” She kissed Olivia’s forehead and took a deep breath, wiping her daughter’s tears with her small hand, “One thing you must know, Livi, is how very much I love you. When I’m gone,” she hesitated, letting the words sink in, “remember we talked about this, okay? Don’t ever doubt my love for you because it is endless, like the sea. It will go on forever, no matter what happens in your life, no matter what mistakes you make. My love for you is solid, like a rock. I will never think anything less of you than seeing how perfect you are. You will make mistakes, Livi. That’s normal, and my love will still be strong for you. Never doubt that.” Olivia nodded her head, unable to stop the flow of tears.
“When I leave this earth, you will live with Holly and Jack. They love you.” She pulled her daughter into her arms and held her there, feeling her heart beat against her own, taking in the light innocent smell of teenager and child blended as one, and hating god for taking her life away so early. The unfairness of it all boiled in her blood, fueled her anger. “Now, baby, let’s go and have ourselves a ritual!” She smiled at Olivia, whose lips curled up around the edges at the thought of joining her mother’s coveted club.
“Really, Mom? it’s okay? I mean, you don’t have to,”
Olivia said, her voice a mere whisper.
“Really. get your CD player and let’s get going, huh? They’ve probably all left by now.”
“No way!” Olivia’s happier tone slowly returned. “They probably drank all of your alcohol and finished the cake, but they’d never leave!”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Megan said. She waited for her daughter to collect her CD player and wash her face. Together, arm in arm, they walked downstairs.
Olivia whispered in her mother’s ear, “I love you, Mom. You are everything to me.”
“Do you think she’s okay?” Peter asked Holly in a hushed voice.
“I don’t know, Peter, it’s a hard time right now. I pray every day that she’ll get better, but I don’t know. She said she won’t, and without the meds, well,” Holly hesitated. “She looks awful.”
“I know. I just can’t think about—” Peter’s eyes welled with tears. Holly grabbed his arm and tugged him further into the woods. “Peter, honey, you have to pull it together. We can’t let her see you cry. Straighten up, okay? I know it’s hard, but we have to be strong for her—and for poor Olivia. Now let’s go.” With that said, she marched back into the yard and threw her wood into the pit. Peter came out behind her and placed his wood on the ground next to Holly’s feet.
Holly greeted Megan and Olivia with a warm and pleased look. She squeezed between them, put her arm around their waists, and rested her head on Megan’s shoulder.
“Happy birthday, chick. You know we love you,” she said.
“I know you do. How could you not?” Megan pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders and smiled.
Holly turned to Olivia and said, “Welcome to our little nest, Livi.”
At that moment, a rush of sadness and joy intertwined and wound its way through Olivia’s body, making her blush and glow all at once.
Megan lit the tiki lights, and watched Olivia walk toward the woods to gather flowers from the edge of the garden. Holly and Peter chatted about something near the fire—life, no doubt, Megan thought—not hers, just life in general. How things are, who’s doing what, normal life issues. Megan longed for normal conversation, not hedged with worry, but now wasn’t the time for self pity. She had a ritual to start!
“Okay, girls and Peter! gather ’round!” Megan said, drawing from deep within to gain strength. “ The time has come for us to begin.” With the fire burning, the lights flickering, and all of them gathered closely together in a circle, Megan took out the blue CD from her bag and placed it in Olivia’s CD player.
Holly beamed. She reached over and pressed Play. Their ritual Buddhist chant filled the air. Each of them laid their special hippie
blankets out around the fire, like petals jutting out from the stem of a beautiful flower. They sat cross legged and eager.
Olivia’s heart pounded. Oh my God! Oh my God! I’m here!
“God, Meg, when can we change our chant?” Holly pleaded, hands in a praying position. “I love you, and I love our rituals. You make me spiritual, for god’s sake, but can’t our chant be peppier?”
“You can’t change our chant! That’s what a ritual is all about—the same thing year after year. Besides, it isn’t supposed to be peppy. It’s not a dance, it’s a centering of our souls, and unification of our minds—a blessing of our beings. It is supposed to be peaceful and help you empty your mind of the clutter and chaos. Surely you want to be at peace for just a few moments in your life.” Megan winked at Olivia, who sat silent and wide-eyed, granting respect to her mother’s ritual, and absorbing it all. She did not want to miss a second.
“Yeah, once again you are right. I hate that. Besides, it is your day,” Holly said.
They held hands and closed their eyes. Megan’s skirt, another Provincetown favorite, billowed around her thin legs in the light breeze. Her calves, exposed to the evening air, tingled with a chill.
She began, “ Thank you for bringing us together once again, oh Holy one.” We need these times, we live for them, she thought. “ Thank you for bringing me to my senses and allowing Olivia to be here and not letting me turn her away. Thank you for my wonderful cake, my treacherous friends, and for another year in which to keep our sanity by purifying ourselves tonight.” She sensed the others sneaking knowing looks at each other.
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