Miss Truelove scanned the documents on her clipboard. When her eyes came to rest, her smile disappeared.
She looked at Percy with a profound sadness in her gaze and said, “A Colonel Thomas Albemarle.”
And that was why Percy was sitting on my sofa, bent forward with his face buried in his hands, crying like a wounded child.
Between racking sobs he gasped, “Why, oh why, Sis? Why doesn’t he love me? Can I ever do anything he approves of? Why don’t you care, Sis? Don’t you want him to love you?”
To be honest, I’d stopped caring long ago. I figured you can’t miss something you’ve never had, and I was tired of wanting something I knew I’d never get.
But not Percy. He knew there was nothing more special than the love between a father and son because he’d seen it with his friends and their fathers. He so desperately wanted that love with his own father. He knew it could be so special if it were done right. And he was crying for a wish he was certain would never come true and a miracle that would teach them how to get it right.
Thirty-five
Dr. Brooks decided that he needed a satellite dental office in Waynesville. Having conquered the entire tooth population of his small town of Mayton, it was time to move up to the Big League.
Dr. Brooks had a huge pile of money, so cost would not be an obstacle. He and Mrs. Brooks were living in a home that Mrs. Brooks had inherited from her parents, so they had no house payment. They did not travel extensively, since they considered even the fifty-mile trip to Waynesville a major undertaking. And they didn’t splurge on clothes, except for Mrs. Brooks’s seasonal suits.
So Dr. Brooks wrote a huge check and told the contractor, “Build it.”
Since Dr. Brooks lived fifty long miles away from Waynesville, he would need to find a dentist who could run his new satellite office. And Dr. Brooks just happened to have a son who was in his final year of dental school. Imagine that! What a happy coincidence! What were the chances? While all of Garth’s classmates were interviewing and scrambling to find a job, Garth was already talking about My Practice.
I came home from work one afternoon to find Garth there, waiting for me. As soon as I came through the door, he grinned from ear to ear, grabbed my hands, and said, “Let’s buy a house, Babe!”
I knew we’d have to vacate our student housing when Garth graduated, but I thought our next residential step would be to a real apartment. But Garth was saying that we were going to skip right over the rental apartment and go directly to the house-buying phase of our lives. His plan took me by surprise, but I got swept up in his excitement and soon believed it was doable.
Out of my meager earnings I had managed to build a small savings for an emergency. A down payment on a little house could be considered an emergency, couldn’t it? I was planning to quit my job and return to school, but, surely, Dr. Brooks would pay Garth enough for us to be able to afford the payments on a small home, wouldn’t he? I answered both of those questions “Yes!” and we were as good as homeowners.
The following day I came home to an empty apartment. I assumed Garth and his fellow students had yet another study group or pre-graduation celebration or whatever to attend. I’d stopped asking.
I fixed myself a bowl of corn flakes—I was still too old and too mature and too unhealthy to eat Lucky Charms—and sat down at the combo table with the newspaper. I turned to the real estate section, and there it was. It jumped right out and screamed, “I’m yours!”
NEW! LeGrande community, brick ranch, 3 BR, 1 ½ B, quiet cul-de-sac, near city park and Tyler Elementary.
The price was right, and the down payment would be within my savings budget. It was perfect! The neighborhood was relatively new, all of its residents young couples with children or young couples planning children. I grabbed the phone and called the listing agent. I didn’t want this one to get away. Jonelle Nelson said she could show the house to me if I could meet her there in ten minutes. I knew it would take me longer than ten minutes to get to LeGrande, but Jonelle didn’t know that. I dropped my half-empty cereal bowl in the small sink—a major no-no—grabbed my purse and keys, and headed for the car.
Even though I made every green light and exceeded the speed limit, it took me nearly twenty minutes to reach LeGrande. I found Jonelle pacing the sidewalk and checking her watch. She was clearly not happy with me, but she shook my hand and flashed her forced, toothy real estate smile at me so as not to alienate a potential buyer.
Jonelle rushed me through the house, but I saw enough to know that this was the perfect home for Garth and me. As we ran from room to room, I mentally decorated each space with Ma’am’s hand-me-down furniture and our still-unpacked wedding gifts. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Garth what I’d found. He’d be so proud that I had taken the initiative to find us a home, to take that burden from him while he was concentrating on finishing dental school.
When I got back to the apartment from seeing our house (It was already ours in my mind.), Garth was there. I was so glad he was home because I couldn’t wait to tell him about our 3 bedroom, 1 ½ bath in LeGrande.
I burst through the door, already jabbering, and found Garth sitting at the table, eating a sandwich, and reading the paper. I sat down and scooted my chair close to him.
Grabbing his arm, I chattered, “Oh, Garth, you won’t believe the house I’ve found. It’s perfect for us! It’s in that new development called LeGrande, and it has three bedrooms and a bath and a half. It’s brand new, on a cul-de-sac. It’s all brick, and it’s right down the street from a huge park and just blocks from an elementary school. It’s adorable! Oh, Garth, I just know you’re going to love it!”
All Garth said was, “LeGrande? Have you lost your mind?”
And the air just went Pfffffft! right out of my balloon.
“But, Garth, the house is beautiful, just perfect for us. And what’s wrong with LeGrande?”
“Babe, I’m a dentist!” he said, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.
Well, technically, he was not a dentist yet, but that was another issue. We were addressing the house now. One issue at a time, please!
“Dentists don’t live in LeGrande. Construction workers and mechanics live in LeGrande.”
I didn’t mention that my brother was a mechanic. I didn’t have to. Garth’s look told me that was his point.
Then he said, “I’ve already found us a beautiful home in Forest Oaks. Now, that’s where dentists live. We’ll meet all the right people, join all the right clubs, and make all the contacts I need to build my practice.”
He stood up, took my hand, kissed my forehead, and said, “Come on, Babe, I want to show you our new home. I know you are going to love it.”
And LeGrande was swept under the rug, never to be mentioned again.
During our drive, I kept wondering how Garth thought we could afford a home in Forest Oaks, the most exclusive neighborhood in Waynesville. Perhaps he had found us a bargain, a fixer-upper. Maybe Dr. Brooks was going to pay Garth more than I thought he was going to pay him. While I was thinking about our fixer-upper, Garth pulled up to the curb in front of a towering brick home with a lush, green, immaculately-manicured front yard. This was no fixer-upper.
“What do you think?”
“Is our house behind this hotel?”
Garth laughed and kissed me and said, “You’re so cute! Come on. I want you to see. The real estate agent gave me a key.”
Garth pulled me out of the car and ran me up the hill to the front porch. The house/hotel looked larger up close than it did from the curb. I craned my neck up and up; the main floor was ten steps off the ground, and the damn thing was a full three stories tall. I huffed up the steps to a wide front porch that led to double, intricately-carved doors.
Garth unlocked the doors and led me into a foyer that was three times the size of our current apartment. There was a huge living room to the right and dining room to the left, both with working fire places. The house had five bedrooms and three and one half ba
ths, as well as an office, a sun porch, a full attic, and a full basement. The back yard was as lush as the front, with a huge slate patio and a concrete fish pond.
And Garth thought I had lost my mind!
I said, “Garth, how are we supposed to pay for this?”
“Oh, Babe, we can manage. My father is loaning us the down payment, and then, of course, we’ll make monthly payments on the balance. We can get a thirty-year loan.”
“But how in the world will we ever be able to afford the payments on two loans with just your salary?”
“Well, until I get my practice off the ground, you can just keep on working. We’ll manage.”
“Oh, no, Garth! That wasn’t our plan. We agreed that I would quit work and return to college when you finished dental school.”
“But, Babe, we didn’t say as soon as I finished school. It’ll happen, but for now, it’ll take both of our salaries to make a go of this. We’re partners, Babe. We’ll work together. Right? This is what we need to succeed. I have to have this home in order to build my practice. Don’t you understand that?”
And even though I didn’t quite understand and certainly didn’t agree, I signed on the dotted line; and Garth and I moved into our house/hotel.
I typed furiously so we could make the house payment and repay Dr. Brooks. I typed late into the night so that Garth could charge furniture for our house/hotel.
And I typed on Saturdays, and often Sundays, so that Garth could join all those right clubs to meet those right people so that he could build his practice so that I could quit typing and return to school.
Thirty-six
Garth had been out of dental school for a few years and we were rattling around in the house/hotel when I said, “Isn’t it time we started a family?”
He grabbed me and spun me around, kissed me on the nose, and said, “Babes, we are a family.”
I liked it when Garth called me Babes. Of all the pet names he had given me, I liked Babes the best. He used it when he was the most loving and in a good mood.
I laughed and pinched him on the cheek and said, “I know we’re a family, but we could be a bigger family. I’m ready to have a baby.”
Garth’s response stopped me dead in my tracks: “I don’t want children.”
I was speechless. My mind began whirling in reverse, trying to recall The Baby Discussion. Surely, we had talked about having children before we married. Don’t all engaged couples discuss the future? And isn’t a family, complete with children, part of the future? Hadn’t we talked about having children during our seven years of marriage? Try as I might, I couldn’t find The Baby Discussion in my memory. How could I have missed it?
And while I was standing there, still speechless, Garth grabbed his golf clubs, kissed me again, and said, “Gotta run, Babes. I’ll be home for dinner.”
All of a sudden, I didn’t like the sound of Babes.
Three weeks later I decided to broach the baby subject once again, certain that Garth had changed his mind and was now dying to be a father.
I said, “Garth, I really want to be a mom. Don’t you think it would be wonderful to have a little boy…or a little girl?”
This time he was not in a Babes mood.
He said through clenched teeth, “Girl…”
Unlike Babes, Girl is not one of Garth’s good-mood nicknames. He calls me Girl when he is angry and impatient and dismissive. Girl gives me chill bumps and makes me want to undo what I’ve just said. But there was no undoing.
“…I told you I don’t want children. I don’t like kids. They’re bratty and smelly and loud and in the way. They tie you down and put a huge strain on finances. There is nothing about a child that would make me want to have one in my house or my life.”
I reached for his arm and said, “But, Garth, aren’t we a team? Shouldn’t we discuss the pros and cons together? I believe I should have a say-so in the matter.”
He said, “There is no discussing. I’m not going to be a father. Case closed! Now, let go of my arm. I’m late for work.”
I said, well, I screamed, “No! You can’t do this, Garth! Please don’t do this to me!”
And then he said something that made me grab the wall to keep from falling to my knees: “I’ve had a vasectomy.”
It came out in a whispery croak: “What? When? Without even telling me? How could you do that?”
“Simple, Girl. I had it done one Friday afternoon and then went to my mother’s to recuperate. It was the weekend I told you my father had flu and that I was going to help out.”
“You mean your mother knew that you were having a vasectomy without consulting me?”
“Yeah, she loved sharing that little secret with me. You know how my mother feels about you.”
Well, I knew Mrs. Brooks didn’t think I was worthy of her son, but I had no idea she hated me that much.
I said, “How did your mother take the news that she wasn’t going to be a grandmother?”
Garth said, “She didn’t mind. She told me she didn’t much care for children anyway.”
And in case-closed fashion, he said, “Now, let go. I said I’m late for work.”
And, just like that, he was gone.
I felt like sobbing, knowing that I would never be a mother, but all I could think about was Garth’s own mother telling him that she didn’t much care for children. I thought that was a very odd and insensitive thing to say to your only child. However, if Garth were the benchmark by which Mrs. Brooks measured all children, no wonder she didn’t much care for them.
Thirty-seven
I was home, alone, folding clothes and watching television when I heard a knock at the door. I pushed the mountain of towels aside and hoisted myself off the sofa. Hoisting was getting harder and harder. I had packed on a number of chocolate pounds while I sat home waiting for Garth to return from class or lab or the library or study group or any other place dental students needed to be. Now that dental school was over, I thought that my waiting days were over. But now I waited alone while Garth golfed or played tennis or entertained potential patients at this club or that.
Before I could reach the door, it opened, and Percy strode in. He knew Garth’s schedule and planned his visits when he was sure I’d be alone. Percy and Garth were civil to each another, but it was clear they didn’t care for each other. And I preferred seeing each alone, so as to avoid the uncomfortable iciness that hung between them.
Percy breezed right past me, head down, hands clasped, his mind, clearly, somewhere else. When he reached the sofa, he looked around as if he couldn’t figure out how he had gotten there.
Finally, he plopped down and said, “Sit. Gotta talk.”
When Percy starts talking to me in shorthand, I know we’ve got a serious situation. Of course, my first thought was of Colonel Tom, but I decided not to bring up Percy’s least favorite topic—just in case this serious situation was about something else.
“Want a Coke?”
“Nope. Just gotta talk.”
“Okay. I’m all ears.”
“It’s over, Sis. We tried. I promise we tried. We just can’t keep trying cause it’s not working.”
“What in the hell are you talking about, Percy?”
“Me and Vickie. It’s over.”
“No! No! Oh, no! You can’t do this. You’re not thinking straight. We can’t let this happen. What about Lydia? Think about Lydia! You can’t do this, Percy. Look at me, Percy! She is my Godchild, and I demand that my Godchild’s parents stay together!”
And that’s when I lost it. I cried and hit my brother with my balled-up fist. He cried, too. We cried together, cried till we were spent.
Then I did get us a Coke—a Coke and a box of Kleenex.
Once we had wiped our eyes, blown our noses, and taken a swig of Coke, I said, “All right, I think I can act rationally now. Please start over and give me a chance. And, Percy, no shorthand! I want the longhand version.”
“Sis, she says she can’t live
over a garage anymore, and I understand that. But it’s my home, my life, my business. I just can’t leave it. She wants a picket fence, a real dining room, a sunny kitchen with plants in the windows. I couldn’t live there any more than she can keep living in an apartment over a bike repair shop. It’s just not me, Sis.”
“But, Percy, separating would be one thing if it were just you and Vickie. But you have to think of Lydia, too. You have to do what is best for her. When you and Vickie became parents, Lydia became your first priority—not you.”
“Oh, Sis, do you think we don’t know that? Do you think we just got up this morning and decided to call it quits? This has been coming a long, long time. We’ve talked about it till we’re just all talked out.”
“You know we didn’t have the conventional courtship, the match made in heaven. Sis, we got pregnant, and we did what we thought was right. We were young, frightened kids, but we knew we had a responsibility to our baby. We’ve taken that responsibility very seriously. Lydia is the most important thing in our lives, and we’ll do everything we can to keep on being good parents. I love Vickie and she loves me; we just don’t make a very good couple. But we’ll always be best friends. And we’ll always be good parents.”
Thirty-eight
Garth was at the club playing golf, and I was at home alone, reading, when Michelle from my office called and asked if I wanted to go to the mall. I hadn’t been shopping in ages and said, sure, that sounded like fun. Michelle told me she’d pick me up in about an hour.
Before I could shower, put on makeup, and dress, she was knocking on the door. I had planned to leave Garth a note but didn’t want to make Michelle wait any longer. What’s more, Garth golfed all day and then stopped by the pro lounge for a few beers with the guys. I was sure I’d be home long before he got back.
I had forgotten how much fun it was to shop with a friend. Michelle and I went from store to store, trying on clothes, giving each other fashion advice, laughing. That was the best part of the day—the laughing. I also hadn’t laughed with a friend in a very long time. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the laughing. We stopped for a lunch of salads and shared a decadent chocolate dessert. The day was perfect. Michelle and I pledged to do it again soon.
Getting the Important Things Right Page 16