by Cyndi Myers
“April, don’t forget you promised Sandra Wayne you’d watch little Seth for her,” Tammy reminded her daughter.
“I hadn’t forgotten.” April scuffed the dirt with the toe of her tennis shoe. “I was just waiting to say goodbye to Daddy.”
“You go on now, pumpkin.” Brady leaned over and gave the girl a kiss. Karen felt a stab of longing as she watched them. Her father had never made such a casual gesture of affection.
“You should eat something,” Tammy said to Brady. She smoothed the back of his flame-retardant suit. “You want me to bring you a corn dog or something after the race?”
“Nah, I’m okay. I’ll probably go out with some of the guys for a few beers.”
“All right, then.” Tammy stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. “Have a good race. We’ll be cheering for you.”
They made their way back to the bleachers. “It’s amazing that Brady’s still racing after all this time,” Karen said.
“He did quit for a while, when the kids were little and we just flat didn’t have the money. But he took it up again a few years back.” She glanced at Karen. “He says it keeps him young. I’m happy it keeps him out of trouble.”
“What do you mean? Brady never struck me as the type to get into trouble.” Even in school, Brady had been one of the straightest arrows they knew. Except for racing cars, he never did anything illegal, immoral or inconsistent.
“Well, there was this little secretary at work who was sniffing around him, but I got wind of it and put a stop to it.” The determination in Tammy’s voice and the hard line of her jaw made Karen look twice at her friend. Tammy always seemed so easygoing. Then again, it made sense that she’d be fierce when it came to protecting her family, and by extension, her marriage.
“You don’t worry about all the groupies who hang out at the tracks?” Karen asked, remembering her own youthful indiscretions.
Tammy shook her head. “With me and all the kids here, he wouldn’t have a chance to look at another woman. Besides, when he’s here, all he’s thinking about is his car. That thing is his baby.”
“You’re not jealous?” Her tone was light, teasing, but she was serious.
Tammy shook her head. “Nah. I’m the one he goes to bed with every night. I’m not worried about anything else.”
They found their seats and settled in to watch the first race. “Brady’s in the second qualifying heat tonight,” Tammy said.
Karen nodded, the racing lingo coming back to her. Groups of racers competed in the qualifying heat for post position in the main race, or feature. Brady raced stock cars, which started life as American-made street cars but were so highly modified now as to be unrecognizable as descendants of the family sedan.
The first heat was over almost before Karen knew it. Then it was Brady’s turn. His bright red-and-white Chevrolet was easy to spot in the crowd, and he led the pack most of the way, crossing the finish line inches ahead of the next racer. “Oh, he’ll be happy about that,” Tammy said, grinning.
The qualifying heats out of the way, the track was prepped for the feature race. Karen amused herself watching the crowd. It was an eclectic audience, dominated by groups of men in cowboy hats or ball caps, jeans and T-shirts. There were a good number of families mixed in, the women carrying toddlers or babies on one hip, children playing tag and hide-and-seek beneath the glow of mercury vapor lights.
The teenagers segregated themselves in knots of five or six, the boys mostly separate from the girls, each group watching the other with a show of studied indifference.
She spotted one girl, probably sixteen or seventeen, her heavy makeup and teased hair a clue that she was trying to look older. She was standing with a pair of slightly older men—drivers or mechanics, judging by the shirts they wore that were plastered with the names of auto parts suppliers. The girl was smoking a cigarette. She laughed and threw her head back to blow the smoke out of her nose, while the men looked on admiringly.
Karen caught her breath, remembering herself at that age. For a brief period she, too, had taken up smoking, and carefully choreographed every gesture involved with the habit. Hold the cigarette like this. Tilt her head like that. This was how the cool people looked, how they acted. If she could get the moves right, she could be one of them. Someone better than herself.
Someone different than she’d turned out to be. Back then, she’d dreamed of having exciting adventures, passionate romances, visiting exotic places. She’d have laughed at the idea of settling for a staid life as a housewife and mother.
Was that what she’d done—settled for something less than her dreams? Had she taken the easy road, instead of the one she’d really wanted?
“Hey, Karen, you okay? What are you staring at?” Tammy’s hand on her shoulder pulled her back to the present.
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You’ve gone all white.” Tammy shoved a Coke into Karen’s hand. “You’ve been living in the mountains too long. You’re not used to the heat.” She turned to her son. “Jamie, wet a rag in that ice chest and wring it out for me.”
“No, I’m fine.” Karen tried unsuccessfully to fend off the wet towel, which Tammy draped around her neck.
“That’ll help cool you off,” Tammy said.
“Thanks.” The damp chill did feel good in the lingering heat.
“I’ll bet it’s nice and cool in Denver right now,” Tammy said, settling back in her seat once more.
“It does cool off a lot at night.” Karen and Tom liked to take a drink onto their back deck after sunset, and sit in the growing darkness, talking. Mostly about work or the boys.
Rarely about things that mattered. The memory sent a pain through her chest, a sharp longing that stole her breath. What had she missed, by not making an effort to dig deeper?
To be more honest about her feelings and opinions, instead of always trying to smooth over any rough patches and disagreements.
“I’ll bet you miss that.” Tammy pulled a round cardboard fan from her bag and fluttered it back and forth under her chin. “I’d hate to live somewhere where it was cold in the winter, but summer does tend to drag on forever around here.”
“Mama, I want a fan, too,” Jamie whined.
“Here you go, honey.” Tammy handed over her fan, which Karen saw now was imprinted with the name of a local funeral parlor.
Karen remembered all the hours she’d spent placating Matt and Casey this way. Small children were so needy at times. It grew tiring, but now that they were more independent, a deep nostalgia for those times lingered in her. The boys had counted on her then, and she’d always been there for them.
Now that they were more independent and all but grown, she felt an emptiness, and a selfish longing for the old days when she’d been the center of their universe.
“They’re getting ready to start.” Tammy elbowed Karen and directed her attention to the track. As the green flag dropped, the cars surged forward in a cloud of exhaust. Karen found herself watching Tammy, instead of the cars on the track. She could judge the action by the expression on her friend’s face. When Brady’s car skidded through a turn, Tammy gasped and bit her knuckle, her shoulders sagging with relief as he righted the car in the straightaway. When a crash ahead of him forced him to brake and lurch the car to the right, she gave a muffled shriek and rose up from her seat, plopping down again when he was clear of danger.
As the cars neared the final lap, she bounced in her seat, hands pumping. “Come on, baby. Come on, baby. Come on,” she muttered, faster and faster as the cars raced on.
When the checkered flag dropped and the results board showed Brady had come in second, Tammy squeezed her hands together and released a sigh. “Second is good,” she said. “But Brady would be a lot happier with first.”
“Mama, I’m hungry,” Jamie said.
“Have some chips and dip. And there’s some beef jerky in there, too.” Tammy dispensed snacks, having easily transformed fro
m cheering for her man to catering to her children. She was so calm and efficient.
A sense of familiarity overwhelmed Karen as she watched her friend. She recognized the urgency underlying the capable movements and precision organization. You had to hurry to stay on top of everyone’s needs, your brain spinning at a frantic pace to keep up. Even the outward calm was part of the act. You could never look anything less than absolutely capable. After all, if you fell apart, think how many people you’d take down with you. People who depended on you.
Karen had been there. She’d done that and she’d gotten the T-shirt and the souvenir crown that identified her as the queen manager/mother/organizer/volunteer/et cetera, et cetera….
The problem was, all this activity didn’t leave any chance to slow down or retreat from the constant busyness of life. Sometimes she suspected that was the whole point. Being perfect in all her roles as wife, mom and business partner left little time to question her own needs, or to see her own flaws.
The idea made her feel queasy.
“Brady likes to stay after the race to go over everything on the car and talk to the other drivers,” Tammy said. “There’re three more features on the program, but we won’t necessarily stay to see them all, if that’s okay with you.”
“That’s fine. We’ll leave whenever you’re ready.” Not knowing the drivers or having followed their careers, the races were interesting, but not compelling.
“I’ve got to get a roast ready for the Crock-Pot when we get home, so we can take it over to Mama and Daddy’s after church tomorrow,” Tammy said as she repacked the cooler and gathered up trash.
“Do you have dinner with them every Sunday?” Karen asked.
“Just about. Mama and I take turns cooking, so it works out.”
“You don’t get tired of that? I mean, do you ever think about doing something different? Just for a change.”
“Not really. Besides, my folks would be so disappointed if we didn’t show. There’ll be plenty of time for doing things differently when they’re gone.”
Tammy’s words echoed in Karen’s head as she followed her friend out of the stands and across the grounds toward the parking lot. At what age did you cross over from feeling as if there was always plenty of time to the sense that the hours and days were rushing away from you, like water through your fingers? Certainly some sense of urgency had brought her here to look after her father. She’d come expecting to learn more about him, to maybe even figure out what made him the way he was.
She hadn’t counted on having to face so much of herself in the hours when she wasn’t caring for him. It unnerved her to think she didn’t always like the things she was finding out.
The day after her visit to the races, Karen called Tom. She needed to hear his voice, and to try to put into words the things she’d felt sitting there in the bleachers the night before. “Do you think I’m a martyr?” she asked once they got past the initial hellos.
“Do I think you’re what?”
“Do you think I’m one of those women who are always rushing around doing things for other people and never looking after themselves? The kind of woman who always eats the heels of the bread because no one else in the family will, or who doesn’t buy new shoes for herself because her kid wants new sneakers.”
“I thought that was all part of being a mom,” he said. “What brought this on?”
“I don’t know. I went to the races with Tammy Wainwright last night. I was watching her with her husband and kids and I saw myself—so busy looking after other people, I couldn’t look after myself.”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. But I can tell you I wish you were up here right now, looking after some of this paper work. I’m drowning in it.”
Was that her most important role in his life—personal secretary? “Isn’t the temp working out?”
“She only works three days a week, and I spend as much time showing her what to do as I do on my own work.”
Was that supposed to make her feel guilty for going out with her friend? “I’ll be back before you know it. Dad’s doing really well. He’s started to say a few words. And Casey’s been a big help to me.”
“He could be a big help here, too, if he wanted to.”
She could feel the tension between her temples, as if someone had fastened a band around her head and just twisted it tighter. She didn’t know what to say to Tom. She couldn’t say what he seemed to want to hear—that she would drop everything and run to help him. “We’ll both be home as soon as we’re able.” Longing came back, sharp as a razor. “Maybe you can find sometime to come down for a visit. Just for a weekend. I’d like that.”
“Yeah. I’ll try.” He took a deep breath, switching gears. “So how were the races?”
“Good. Brady came in second.”
“I can’t believe he’s still racing.”
“Tammy says it keeps him out of trouble.”
He laughed. “He should go into business for himself. He’ll be too busy to get into trouble.”
“How’s Matt?”
“Great. I made him foreman on the Adventist Hospital job and he’s doing terrific. I’m really proud of him.”
“Casey said something about him breaking up with Audra.”
“Oh, I think they split up for a few days, but he said something about going to the movies with her the other night, so I guess they’re back together.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“It’s none of my business.”
Men! As far as she was concerned, everything that affected her son was her business, at least as long as he lived at home. Part of being a parent was caring about what happened to your children.
“Can I talk to him?” Maybe she could get him to tell her what had happened with Audra.
“He’s not here right now. I’ll tell him you called.”
And he wouldn’t call back. He was too busy—too much in his own world these days, which didn’t have much room for his mom.
“Listen, I’ve got to go now,” Tom said. “I’m meeting a client to go over a bid for a project.”
“Think about getting away for a visit. You could use a break and it would be great to see you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
He sounded sincere enough, but without facial cues it was difficult to tell if he was trying to placate her or he truly intended to fly down. Not for the first time, she wondered if being here with her father was worth the strain on her marriage. Why was she here, really? If it was just to nurse her dad back to health, she could hire someone to do that.
No, she’d come down here to try to build a relationship with her father, before it was too late. She wanted to learn about him—but also to learn about herself. She didn’t want to go through life like someone else’s servant, or a robot who was afraid to stop moving. Here was her chance to slow down, to reacquaint herself with the part of herself with whom she’d lost touch.
Karen was putting away laundry the following Wednesday when she found an old photo album in the hall closet. It was in a pile of miscellaneous pictures and envelopes full of old negatives that had fallen behind the stacks of sheets and towels. She pulled it out and opened it, the black paper pages brittle beneath her hands.
The first thing she saw was a picture of her eight-year-old self, dressed in cutoff jeans and a striped T-shirt, posing on a rock, one hand shielding her eyes as she stared off in the distance, a serious look on her face.
She laughed, and carried the album to the sofa. All the photos were from the family’s vacation to Yellowstone that year. She smiled at a picture of the four of them posed in front of Old Faithful. Her father, of course, had binoculars around his neck. Del’s lower lip was stuck out in a pout. She seemed to remember he was mad because his mother wouldn’t let him throw rocks in the geyser.
And there was Karen, standing between her mother and father, a huge smile on her face. She looked so happy.
It had been a fun trip. While
her father wandered off to look for birds, her mother took her and Del on a nature hike, bribing them with the promise of roasted marshmallows and hot dogs when they returned. They had climbed rocks, balanced on fallen logs and picked wildflowers, laughing and shrieking with the abandon of children who had spent three days cooped up in the backseat of a car.
Rounding a curve in the trail, they had come upon a grizzly sow feeding in some berry bushes. Sara had screamed and gathered the children about her. The bear had ignored them and lumbered off. Del started crying and Sara tried to comfort him, while Karen stared, fascinated, at the magnificent animal.
Back at camp, she had rushed to be the first to tell her father the news of the sighting. He’d helped her look up bears in one of his guidebooks and they’d read about grizzlies. Closing her eyes, she could still remember the feel of his arm around her as he held her close and turned the pages of the book, the smell of insect repellent and campfire smoke permeating his clothes.
How had she forgotten that moment? Why did she so seldom remember those things now, but rather focused on the disappointments of her youth?
Maybe because those happy times made all the other days seem that much worse. Those good memories were a reminder of what might have been—the ideal they approached, but never really reached.
She was still studying the photos, and remembering, when Sara arrived an hour later. She swept into the house bearing a tower of Tupperware containers. “Leftovers from my ladies club luncheon,” she explained as she unpacked the containers onto a plate. “I thought you’d appreciate not having to cook.”
Karen admired the array of chicken salad, fruit salad, salmon sandwiches cut in quarters, crusts removed, and a container of vaguely familiar hors d’oeuvre-looking items.
“What are these?” she asked.
Sara made a face. “Sushi. California rolls, I think. They’re from Estelle Watson. She fancies herself a gourmet.”
Karen sampled one of the rolls. “They’re good.”
Sara made a face. “I suppose. Though why good old deviled eggs or cocktail sausages aren’t good enough for her I’ll never know.” She filled a plate with some of each of the dishes and handed it to Karen. “I’m betting you haven’t had lunch yet. Eat.”