Being Known

by Robin Jones Gunn

I didn’t know if what I was doing was sacred, as Tess had said. I also didn’t know if I would end up saving the cards and giving them to each of my friends for their birthdays rather than all at once on Wednesday.

  I finished the project just as the kids woke up. Eden was excited about ballet class and eager to slip into her tutu. I unplugged my phone and discovered I had missed a slew of text messages while I was painting. GiGi and Poppy said they weren’t able to come to Eden’s final class but wanted me to take lots of videos. Christy asked if I wanted to drive to the theater together on Wednesday with her and Emily. And the final text was from Joel, saying that he would be home late and that we needed to talk then.

  Fine. We always say that, but we never end up talking.

  I texted him back and said I would make cappuccinos when he got home.

  We were now running late for dance class, and I was slower than usual because this was the first time I had taken Alex with me. I found myself looking around for Garrett as I pulled Alex out of the car. I wondered if Tiffany would come with him since it was the last class. I wondered what she looked like and if he looked at her the way he used to look at me when we were so young. I really hoped that, in seeing them together, it would be evident that she was the best part of his life and that they would always be together. I wanted to know that he ended up with someone who loved him as much as I loved Joel.

  Eden scampered off to join the other ballerinas. Alex was surprisingly clingy when we entered the studio and wanted me to hold him. It made sense, since this was all new to him. I took a seat at the end of the row of chairs in case I needed to get up with Alex. I settled him on my lap with the diaper bag within easy reach so that I could pull out snacks, toys, and books to keep him entertained for the next hour. Another mom sat beside me. I smiled, said hello, and looked around. There was no sign of Garrett or Violet.

  I managed to hold up my phone in the open space between the two people seated in front of me and recorded Eden’s performance as promised. Alex remained on my lap, content with his snacks. The dance was as cute as could be with the six little ballerinas in their tutus.

  Eden took a bonus twirl as the music came to an end and concluded her front-row performance with a curtsy. She was the only one of the dancers who remembered to do that. When the audience clapped, she rewarded them with curtsy after curtsy until their soft chuckles turned into friendly laughter.

  I don’t know if she realized she was the little diva they were laughing at, but I’m glad I caught it all on my phone.

  The assistant scooted the dancers to the side so their instructor could say a few words to the parents about the next class and other class options offered at the studios. We concluded with another round of grateful applause, and Eden came dashing over to me, beaming.

  “Did you see me, Mommy?”

  “Yes, I did, darling.” I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You were wonderful. I love the way you dance with all your heart.”

  “Thank you.” She granted me another one of her curtsies.

  I gave her a big smile. “Did you like dancing for everyone?”

  “Yes!” Eden twirled and twirled again. She definitely had better balance than any of the other Tinkerbells who had just performed.

  “Come sit here next to me for a minute. I need to do something.” I didn’t tell her I was sending the video of her to GiGi and Poppy because she would want to see it, and then Alex would want equal access to the screen. It only took me a few seconds to send it to them and Joel.

  With my purse and the diaper bag in one hand, Alex on my hip, and Eden skipping along next to me, we exited the studio.

  “Jennie?” Garrett strode toward the three of us, waving a large envelope.

  I stopped, let go of the diaper bag, and reached for Eden’s arm so she wouldn’t scamper into the parking lot. My heart did an embarrassing flutter. I thought I was way past this.

  “Glad I caught you!” Garrett said, approaching me. “I don’t have your number, and I don’t think my messages have been getting to you.”

  “I haven’t been checking.”

  He was wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. I remembered how Garrett’s big dream in high school was to go to one of their games and catch a fly ball.

  “This must be your son.” He grinned at Alex and leaned in closer. “How you doin’, little man?”

  “His name is Alex,” Eden said.

  Garrett lowered himself to look Eden in the eye. “Did you have fun dancing for everyone, Eden?”

  She nodded and repeated her applause-worthy curtsy while holding my hand. It didn’t appear that she remembered Violet or that Garrett was Violet’s dad. Lifting my hand above her head, she continued to hold on as she did three ambitious spins.

  “Very nice,” Garrett said with a smile. He looked up at me, still appearing a bit flustered, as if he had raced to get here. “Tiffany went to see her grandmother and took Violet with her. They didn’t make it back in time for class.”

  Eden stopped twirling when she heard Violet’s name. “Where’s By-let?”

  “She’s with her mom,” Garrett said.

  “I want By-let to come to my house.”

  Garrett and I exchanged awkward glances. He held out the envelope. “I wanted to make sure you got these.”

  “Thanks.” I adjusted Alex, who was squirming, trying to get down. I tried to reach for the envelope without compromising my grip on him.

  “Here. Let me.” Garrett reached out his hands, offering to take Alex. I pulled back, but my son went to Garrett in an instant. For a moment we had a small tug of war until I told myself I was being too protective, and I let Garrett take him. It became immediately clear that all Alex wanted was the baseball cap. Garrett let him try to reach for the bill and attempt to pull it off.

  I tried to remember if I had ever seen my husband in a baseball cap.

  “Let me grab the bag too,” Garrett said. “Where did you park?”

  I nodded to the left and had a flashback to all the times Garrett had walked me to my car in the parking lot at Washington High. We had a little routine every day. I always got in, rolled down the window, and positioned my face just right, looking up at him. He always rested his left forearm against my blue Honda, bent down, kissed me, and then pounded two times on the roof before I cruised off to my job at the arts and crafts store at the mall. I remembered the two thumps of his fist were his way of saying, “Love you.”

  Here we were, fifteen years later, and Garrett was once again walking me to my car. Only this time he was carrying my son in one brawny arm and my diaper bag and an envelope of photos of my mom in the other.

  This does not feel right.

  The moment seemed too easy, familiar, and friendly.

  “Mommy, are we going to By-let’s house?”

  “No, Eden.”

  “Can she come to my house?”

  “Not today, honey.”

  “Pleeeeease?”

  “Maybe another day,” Garrett told Eden in his dad voice. “I know Violet would like that too.”

  I kept my head lowered as I opened the door and strapped Eden in her car seat.

  No. No, no, no, no. We are not setting up playdates. We are not going to do family barbecues with our spouses. This is it. This is our last time.

  I glanced across the back seat as Garrett was expertly settling Alex into his car seat. Garrett caught my gaze. His expression looked serious. Or maybe it was a sort of sadness. It felt as if we had entered an alternate universe for that sliver of a moment where two beautiful children, a boy and a girl, bridged the landscape between Garrett and me.

  But these are my children. Joel’s and mine. Our children. Not Garrett’s and my children. These are not the children I once dreamed I would have with Garrett.

  My throat tightened as I closed Eden’s door and cl
imbed into the driver’s seat. I fastened the seat belt and glanced over to see that Garrett had put the diaper bag and the envelope on the passenger’s seat. Looking to the left, I already knew that he would be standing there. I started the engine and rolled down the window, turning my head just enough but keeping my shoulders facing forward. My hands gripped the steering wheel at ten and two, just like we had learned when he and I took driver’s training together.

  Garrett rested his forearm above my window. He leaned down, but not too close. For a moment, neither of us spoke. I knew he was remembering. He had to be. This moment was far too familiar. The years seemed to be folding in for both of us.

  I need to go. Now.

  “Listen,” he said. “I put my card in there.”

  I watched his eyes, reading the deeper meaning in his tone.

  With a half-grin that revealed his nervousness, he added, “You never know when you might need a website.”

  I paused before saying, “I don’t think I will.” My voice was soft, but I hoped he caught the intended double meaning. To be certain, I added, “I’m sure that I won’t.”

  “Okay.” He pulled back. “Okay.”

  “Thanks again for the pictures.”

  “Sure.” He raised his left hand in a farewell sort of gesture, keeping his expression reigned in tightly.

  “Bye, Garrett.”

  “Bye, Jennie.”

  I rolled up my window and looked straight ahead. Just before my foot eased onto the gas pedal, I heard it.

  One, then two fist pounds on the roof of my car.

  An echo from a place that no longer existed. A message from half a lifetime ago. A gesture from a person I now knew I must never see again. Because if I let him, I was sure that Garrett was willing to once again occupy as much of my heart and life as I would relinquish to him.

  Chapter 16

  I waited up for Joel that night. I knew this was the night we would finally talk about Garrett. I would tell Joel everything and assure him, now that ballet class was over, I would never see Garrett again.

  The envelope from Garrett was waiting on the coffee table, unopened. I decided I would open it after I had talked to Joel and told him how the progression with Garrett had unfolded. I wanted to have Joel with me when I looked at the photos of my mom. It was as if the “evidence” inside that envelope would prove my innocence.

  More than that, I wanted Joel to view the photos with me because I wanted to share a new memory of my mom with him. Especially if they were pictures I hadn’t seen before. I needed to feel that Joel was more connected to memories of my mom.

  A little after nine o’clock I started a movie I had recorded months ago. I was only five minutes into it when I heard a key unlocking the front door. I pressed mute and I went to greet Joel in the entryway with a warm smile.

  He looked absolutely beat.

  “Hi.” I kissed him. “Long day for you.”

  “Yeah.” He kept walking, heading for the kitchen. “Do we have anything for a headache in here?” He opened the cupboard where we kept vitamins and a variety of protein powder shake mixes. He found what he was looking for and poured a glass of water to down the pills before leaning against the counter with the half-full glass in his hand.

  I stood a good five feet away, giving him space the way he liked in the kitchen. I wanted to throw my arms around him and ask a dozen questions. But with Joel I knew it was best to wait until he wanted to speak.

  He looked over at the movie on the TV. “We were going to watch that together, weren’t we?”

  “We still can. I’ll save it.”

  He took another long drink of water. Something is wrong.

  “How are you doing?” I asked cautiously.

  “Vincent quit.”

  “What?” I stared at Joel in disbelief. “Why?”

  He shrugged and drank the rest of the water. I took his action to mean he had lots to say on the subject but was choosing not to start a conversation that would drain him of the teaspoon of energy left in him.

  We stood in silent agony as my mind whirled with the ramifications of this news. Vincent was supposed to be the answer, the relief after all the months of Joel working seventy-hour weeks. What had gone wrong? Vincent was the reason Joel and I were starting to get close again and our little family could go to the beach and plant a garden. Without Vincent I pictured a repeat of the last year of our lives, and as I did, the tears came.

  “Joel, I’m so sorry.”

  He stared at me, as if he couldn’t understand why I was the one crying. He looked vacant, drained. I felt that I was looking into the face of his father.

  “I’ve gotta go to bed.”

  I nodded my understanding. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No.” Joel came closer and reached for my hand. He held it for a moment, gazing at me and forcing the slightest of smiles.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  I felt myself blushing as I returned a smile. “I love you, Joel. You’ll get through this.”

  “I know. We will. Let’s talk about it later.”

  “Okay.”

  “We have a lot to figure out.”

  I nodded and kept smiling as Joel let go of my hand and trudged out of the kitchen. His footsteps on the stairs sounded as if he were carrying a weight that was far too heavy for him to bear.

  I stood in the kitchen motionless. The only thing I knew to do was pray. I prayed for Joel, for our kids, for the restaurant, for a replacement for Vincent, for wisdom, for guidance, and for myself. I prayed that I would be courageous and that I would know how to love my husband through all this.

  When I looked up, the movie was still going. I went over to the couch to pick up the remote and save the recording before turning off the TV. I noticed the envelope still waiting on the coffee table. I sat down and stared at it. My earlier plan of opening it with Joel seemed like a bad idea.

  Why did I think I needed to create a ceremony over this? I’m always envisioning events, aren’t I?

  With swift, decisive motions, I reached for the mailer, tore it open, and shook it until seven photos and Garrett’s business card floated into my lap. I started with the photos. Five of them I had seen before and probably had copies of. The last two I hadn’t seen. One was of my mom in a beach chair holding a baby. Garrett’s mom was in the beach chair next to her. Both were wearing sunglasses, and Garrett’s mom had on a white visor with the brand name of a golf ball company across the band. My guess was that it was taken about ten years ago.

  I didn’t know who the baby was. It was wearing a denim baby-style beach hat with a strap under its chin and a onesie with an appliquéd yellow giraffe on it. What captured my attention and made me sit and stare was the way my mom was holding the baby. It was so tender, a cuddle pose with my mom’s chin resting on the baby’s hat-covered head. It was such an accurate image of the way my mom loved people. Both her arms encircled the little one on her lap. Her shoulders were curved in and her smile was contagious. She was the most snuggly, protective, gentle, and caring woman in the world. She gathered fragile souls under her wings with ease and made them feel loved.

  Oh, Mom, you never got to hold my babies.

  A sob burst out of my chest, and I covered my mouth to muffle the messy sounds. I felt as if a grenade of loss and longing had exploded inside, and it took me a moment to catch my breath. I reached for the box of tissues and dried my tears with one hand while still clinging to the photo in the other. As soon as I felt my equilibrium return, I stared at the image once more.

  I miss you so much, Mama. I wish so badly that my children could have known you. I wish you could have gathered them in your arms the way only you could do. I wish you were here. I miss you so, so much.

  The tears stopped. My heart felt strangely calm. As I continued to stare at the photo, I felt the famili
ar sense of loss, but I felt something new as well. It was as if I were being sheltered, covered, encircled by a powerful feeling of comfort. My deep and unchanging love for my mom seemed to have entered a new realm within all the overlapping stages of grief. I wouldn’t call it acceptance, but it was the closest I had ever gotten to feeling settled in my spirit.

  I smiled at my mom’s image in the photo. I wondered what she looked like now in her new, heavenly body. She wasn’t really gone. Her spirit was eternal; I believed that mystery more than ever. I would see her again.

  Bolstered in this unexpected way, I picked up the last photo. It looked like it had been taken on the same day at the beach. My mom and Garrett’s mom were standing together on a beach blanket. Both were wearing billowing cover-ups that were filled to a Liberty-Bell shape and size thanks to the strong ocean breeze. They were holding on to each other and laughing.

  The way they were posed in their cotton cover-ups reminded me of the way Eden and Violet looked when they hugged in their tutus.

  I stared across the room, focusing my narrowed, blurry vision on the kitchen window where all was dark outside. What would these women have thought if they saw their granddaughters reenacting the “friends forever” hug, with the big poofs billowing out?

  Would there be more of a chance of a relationship between Eden and Violet if their grandmas were still alive?

  My eyes returned to the photo, and that’s when I noticed my mom’s toenails.

  Oh My, Cherry Pie red. I need to get a pedicure. I need to walk around with Oh My, Cherry Pie red toenails.

  With what almost sounded like a contented sigh, I took the photos with me upstairs. I quietly slid them into the drawer of my end table. All I wanted to do was slip into bed beside my slumbering husband and fall asleep praying for him.

  The prayers for Joel continued all day Tuesday and Wednesday. Even though they were supposed to be his days off, he had to go to the restaurant. I remained in the dark about what had happened with Vincent as well as all the other details I was curious to know. All Joel had said was that he had interviews already lined up and that he was determined to fix this.