The Mother's Promise

by Sally Hepworth

  “When you can? But I need these things—”

  “You heard your options. Push it under the door if you want me to do it. Bye, Dulcie.”

  Zoe closed the door.

  “Did you … did you actually just do that?” Alice said.

  Zoe blinked as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself.

  “What just happened there?” Alice said.

  A little smile started. “I just didn’t think about it,” Zoe said. “That’s what Kate does, when something scares her.”

  Alice could actually feel her daughter’s sense of accomplishment radiating from her.

  “Cool,” Alice said, giving her a high five. At the same time, she conjured up an image of Kate’s pretty face in her mind and then imagined slapping it.

  36

  Zoe was going to debate practice. Or maybe she wasn’t. She hadn’t decided yet. The debate was in a week. Their team had organized an after-school meeting to “practice” their debate, but from what Zoe could tell, it was actually to “write” the debate, because except for her and Harry, no one had actually done it.

  Apart from in class, she hadn’t seen Harry all week. For some reason, she found herself avoiding him. At lunchtime she sat outside, alone. In class she kept her head down. Once she’d even ducked into the restroom when she’d noticed him coming down the corridor toward her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him. The problem was, she had absolutely no idea what to say when she did see him. She couldn’t flirt, that was for sure. She could barely be around him without blushing. And so, she decided, it was better not to see him at all.

  Now she stood at her locker, clutching her index cards. The meeting had started twenty-four minutes ago, and for the past twenty-four minutes Zoe had stood with her head in her locker, frozen with indecision. The stupid thing was, she wanted to go to the meeting. She wanted to be part of the debate. She just wanted to go as an invisible person.

  She took her bag out of her locker and walked toward the gates. This was ridiculous. She was going home. But at the last minute, as if tricking herself, she took a sharp left into the classroom where the meeting was being held.

  Eric stood at a laptop while people talked over one another. A few people looked up when she walked in, then quickly down again. Harry stood at the back. Just like that, Zoe’s breath disappeared. She turned, ready to duck out again, pretend she’d taken a wrong turn.

  “Hey, Zoe.”

  She froze in the doorway, then turned back. It was Ella Brennan. Zoe didn’t even know that Ella knew her name.

  “Hey,” she said, so quietly that even she couldn’t hear it. She walked a little closer to the group, feeling Harry’s eyes. Being in the same room with him sent tingles up and down her body. Not the tingles of discomfort she usually had around people. A different kind.

  “So,” Eric said to the group. “What are we going to close with?”

  A few people called out ideas, most of them juvenile. The rest talked among themselves or thumbed their iPhones. Clearly the group had lost their mojo.

  Eric struggled to get the group’s attention. “Guys? Come on! We need a closing!”

  Jim yawned. Ella put her phone away, but looked unenthused. Everyone else shuffled uncomfortably. Zoe stood on tiptoe, trying to get a look at the laptop. She scanned the notes that had already been taken. When no one else offered anything else, she took a deep breath.

  “We could close by appealing to the teachers,” she said in a small voice. “Focus on how they must feel, being the ‘Mr.’ and ‘Mrs.’ all the time. I mean … surely they’d prefer to be humanized by being called by their first name?”

  A few people turned to see who was talking. Zoe tried to shrink down, make herself smaller.

  “Good idea,” Eric said. “The other team won’t think of getting the teachers on their side. And Mrs. Patterson is choosing the winner. We want to get her on our side.”

  Zoe felt so pleased she forgot not to look at Harry. He was already looking at her, smiling a little. Any breath she had left was suddenly gone.

  “Anything else, Zoe?”

  She jumped at her name. Her hands were shaking so much she had to clasp them together. “Um … well, we can talk about how teachers are people,” she suggested. “You know … their parents took the time to give them a name and stuff. So we should use it.”

  “Wait,” Jim exclaimed. “Teachers are people?”

  A few people laughed but Eric rolled his eyes and kept typing furiously. Zoe could feel the heat in her face, the sweat beading on her forehead. But it occurred to her that, in this instance, it might just be worth it.

  When Eric finished typing he turned to Zoe, his palm in the air. It took Zoe a moment to realize he was looking for a high five. She obliged, seconds after she should have, feeling ridiculous.

  Afterward, out in the hallway, Harry fell into step beside her. Zoe tried to speed up, but there was no getting away from him. Finally she focused on walking in a straight line, which as it turned out, did require her concentration.

  “So where’ve you been these last few days?” he asked, halfway down the corridor.

  “Why?” Zoe said. “Were you looking for me?”

  She didn’t mean it to be cute or sassy (when had she ever been either?) but, by some miracle, it came out that way. Harry responded with a satisfying burst of laughter. Then he flicked her a sideways glance. “I was looking for you,” he said. “Just so you know.”

  Zoe’s heart was racing even before the double doors swung open, and giant bodies filled the room. The football team. They seemed to fill the entire corridor, many of them high-fiving Harry as they went. Zoe shrank down and moved as far as she could toward one wall. In an instant she wanted to be invisible again.

  “Hey, Harry.”

  “Missing you out there, man.”

  “How’s the knee?”

  “Not bad,” Harry replied. “Good practice?”

  There were a few more high fives and then the guys disappeared into the locker room, leaving nothing but a faint scent of body odor behind. Harry, she noticed, looked a little wistful.

  And then, they were alone again.

  “So … what happened to your knee?” Zoe asked shyly.

  “Can you keep a secret?” he asked her.

  Zoe nodded dumbly.

  “Nothing.”

  Zoe blinked. “What the heck does that mean?”

  They’d reached the door now, and Harry pushed it open and stood with his back to it. As Zoe slipped past him, he grinned. “Why don’t you try to figure that out while I walk you home.”

  “Sure,” Zoe heard herself say, to her utter surprise. And as they headed down the steps together, side by side, Zoe felt almost like a normal teenager.

  37

  Preparing to have chemotherapy, as it turned out, was like preparing for a wedding (or what Alice had heard about it), jam-packed with appointments. Except instead of having spa appointments for spray tans and leg waxes, Alice had medical appointments. A few days ago, she’d had her PICC line put in—a tube that would remain in her arm for the next few months, making it easy for them to attach the IV during chemo. She’d visited her dentist to check her teeth for signs of infection. She’d undergone blood tests. Everything looked good. So today, three weeks after her surgery, was the day.

  When she heard a knock on the door, she looked at her watch. Sonja was early. She was driving Alice to chemo today. Alice was less than enthusiastic about the idea, but she didn’t have a lot of other options.

  She dropped her feet onto the ground leisurely. Let Sonja wait. But before she was even out of her chair, there was another knock, and then a voice called out, “Alice? Are you there?”

  Alice suspected she was hearing things—a side effect of the cancer perhaps. Still, she called out uncertainly, “Paul?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  She opened the door and stared at him.

  “I’m sober,” he said. “I can’t promise about tomo
rrow, but today I’m here to help, for as long as you need me.”

  Alice looked at his clean clothes, his wet hair. He looked almost like a … caring family member. “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here earlier. But I’m here now.”

  Tears built treacherously in Alice’s eyes. “So you are.”

  “Well,” Paul said. “What can I do?”

  Alice thought for a moment. “Do you … still have a driver’s license?”

  “Miraculously, I do.”

  It was, indeed, a miracle. Alice smiled at the thought of calling Sonja to tell her that she would not be required to drive her to chemo. Then she grabbed her keys off the hook in the kitchen and tossed them at Paul. They fell to the floor with a clatter. Alice prayed it wasn’t an omen.

  “Pick those up,” she said, grabbing her purse. “You’re taking me to chemo.”

  * * *

  Paul double-parked in front of the outpatients’ area. As Alice was getting out, she noticed Kate out in front of the building in her uniform and sneakers.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  Alice stared at her. “Do you meet everyone outside?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But on the first day of chemo, I try.”

  Alice felt irrationally annoyed that Kate was giving her no reason to hate her.

  Kate looked over at Paul, still behind the wheel, with a painful look of optimism. “Is this—”

  “My brother,” Alice said. “Paul. He’s going to park the car and meet us up there.” She nodded at Paul and he drove away. She wondered if she’d see him again today. Doubtful, she decided.

  “Okay,” Kate said. “Let’s go.”

  They entered the hospital side by side. On the way, Kate’s phone rang but she immediately silenced it. It was as though Alice were the only person in the world. No wonder Zoe liked her so much.

  When they arrived in oncology they stopped briefly at a desk for Kate to grab some documents and Alice surveyed the waiting area. A group of three women in their fifties or sixties—sisters perhaps—giggled quietly. A young girl, probably no older than twenty-five, lay with her bald head in (what must have been) her mother’s lap. A blond woman flicked through a magazine while her husband dozed beside her.

  After a moment Kate appeared with a folder and steered Alice to a large communal room at the end of the corridor. Along each wall was a row of beige vinyl armchairs of which about half were occupied. Green curtains hung open between each chair. Support people sat beside their charges, reading magazines or talking to nurses, while the patients stared at iPads or portable DVD players. Alice watched a bosomy nurse theatrically sneak some cookies to the husband of a patient.

  “These are the fancy ones,” she whispered, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “They’re s’posed to be for patients only. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll lose my job.”

  “This is you,” Kate said, leading her into the far corner. Alice was grateful to be tucked away. There was something about being in this big long room alone that made her feel exposed.

  “The nurse will come over soon. She will attach the IV to your PICC line and start with some saline solution. Then, once your chemo cocktail arrives from the pharmacy, she’ll start that. You might start to feel tired, maybe a bit woozy. Make sure you tell your nurse if you’re feeling faint, nauseated, or tingly.”

  “And then what?” Alice asked.

  “And then the fun part.” Kate held up an iPad. “I’ve put some movies on here for you. Titanic. Gatsby. Romeo and Juliet. The Wolf of Wall Street.”

  Alice stared at her. “But … how did you—”

  “Zoe told me.” She smiled, then added, “Who doesn’t love Leo?”

  Alice wondered why this sweet gesture suddenly sat like a bad prawn in her belly.

  “Oh, and I’ll take that,” she said, swiping Alice’s phone from her hand. She tucked it into her pocket. “You can have it back when you’re done.”

  “Are phones not allowed?”

  “Well, they are. But I want you and Leo to have a good time. And patients report they are far more relaxed if they’re not checking their phone every five minutes.”

  “But what if Zoe—”

  “I’ll answer it. If it’s important, I’ll bring it to you,” Kate said, dumping the iPad in Alice’s lap. “Watch Leo. Iris will be here to hook you up in just a minute.” The nurse who had handed over the contraband cookies turned and waved at the sound of her name. “You’ll love Iris,” Kate said. “She’s everyone’s favorite. And I’ll be back to check on you throughout the morning.”

  “You’re leaving?” Alice said, suddenly vaguely panicked.

  “Just going to my office at the end of the hall. If you need me, you tell Iris, I’ll come right back.”

  Alice suddenly felt very small in her large leather chair, waiting for poison to be intravenously tubed into her bloodstream. Kate paused and came back to her side. “You know what? Why don’t I wait awhile?”

  Alice wanted to tell her No, it’s fine, you go on back to work. Instead she smiled and accepted the offer from the woman that she wanted so much to hate.

  * * *

  Once Alice was attached to the IV, Kate returned to work and Alice started thumbing over her iPad. Then she noticed Paul squeaking across the large room toward her.

  “You’re back!” she exclaimed.

  “Of course.” He was swaying a little. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not bad. No nausea yet.” Alice sniffed the air. Paul smelled of some kind of spirit—bourbon or maybe whiskey. “Paul. Are you drunk?”

  “No. I mean…” He looked guilty. “A little.”

  “Why did you come back here?” she asked. “It’s not like you’ll be able to drive me home in your state.”

  “No,” he agreed. “But I ran out of money and didn’t have anywhere else to go. And I thought you might like someone to talk to while you had your treatment.”

  Alice stared at him. She and Paul had been close once, but since he’d discovered alcohol, their relationship had fizzled to the odd phone call for money or visit to drop off food. The idea of making small talk with him—while he was drunk—was oddly unsettling.

  “Um,” she said finally. “Well, what did you want to talk about?”

  Paul looked pleasantly surprised—clearly he’d expected to be thrown out. He glanced behind him and located a chair, which he pulled up to Alice’s.

  “Whatever you want,” he said.

  It was a nice gesture, leaving it to her, but it was too broad, and she didn’t have the brain capacity right now to narrow it down. “You decide,” she said.

  “All right,” he said. “There is something I’ve always wondered about.”

  This should be interesting, Alice thought. She’d never thought Paul wondered about anything, these days, other than alcohol. “Go on.”

  “It’s just,” he continued. “You never did tell me who Zoe’s father was.”

  Right at that moment, Alice had her first wave of nausea.

  38

  I am calm, confident, and in control. I am calm, confident, and in control. I am calm, confident, and in control. Zoe silently recited the affirmations on the stage while her legs bounced under the table. She felt a thousand eyes on her (even though there were probably only twenty-five people in the room), but none of them were Harry’s. Beads of sweat ran from her armpits down her sides. Where was he?

  Since last week, they’d made some progress in their unconventional friendship. She still tried to duck away when she saw him coming in the corridor, but she’d always hoped he’d catch her first, and he usually did. Conversation was still mortifying, but Harry did most of the talking. Whenever they were in close quarters Zoe felt an almost exquisite agony—like she’d die if he took even a step back from her, and she’d die if he didn’t. Sometimes, when she caught Harry looking at her, she’d allow herself to wonder if he felt the same way, but she knew that was just her own wishful
thinking. Once, when Mr. Bahr called on her in class and she was disintegrating under the spotlight, Harry leaned so far back in his chair he fell backward and the entire class cracked up laughing … at him instead of her. For the first time in ages she felt like someone knew she existed. More than that, someone cared. She still had no idea why he was pretending to have a knee injury, but she liked the feeling that they were sharing some kind of secret.

  Yesterday the whole debate team had gone to the library to have one last practice of the debate. Zoe was so nervous she couldn’t even return Harry’s smile when she walked in. Later, when she read from her index cards, she barely lifted her head, but she managed to croak out the speech. Even she couldn’t deny the victory in that.

  Afterward Harry said to her, “You were awesome.”

  “We’re going to be graded on eye contact,” she replied dryly.

  He thought for a moment. “So just look at me.”

  It was beyond weird that she thought that might work.

  “It will be fine,” he said. “You can do it.”

  It was a new feeling, having someone believe in her. Her mom did, of course, but that was different. Her mom believed in her because the idea of Zoe being humiliated was too painful for her to consider. But Harry, he believed because he actually thought she was good. Her team was relying on her. There was something about that. Something hard to refuse.

  There were seven of them onstage now, six speakers and the adjudicator, and the rest of the class was in the audience. Zoe focused on the back wall like she’d planned, pretending she was there all alone, but every now and then she glanced into the faces, looking for Harry’s. Still no sign of him.

  “Okay, class, welcome to our debate,” said Jim, who was the adjudicator. A burst of adrenaline shot through Zoe. “The topic is ‘Should we call teachers by their first names?’ Can I have one person from each team come up and introduce each team member please?”

  As each team member was introduced, Zoe scanned the rows again for Harry. He wasn’t there. Zoe’s skin began to prickle. He was supposed to be introducing her!