The reason I couldn’t sleep is because my mother is drinking again. But she is not drinking out in the open like she used to. She is doing it on the sly. She probably thinks this way none of us will notice, not me or Beth or Rosa or even Henry. This is silly thinking. When she is drinking she gives herself away in a number of ways. To begin with, she will slur her words a bit, depending upon how much she’s consumed. And when she walks she has a way of making her way carefully through a room, balancing herself against the furniture along the way, like a toddler. It is very pathetic. I want to tell her outright that I know she is drinking and ask why she has stopped attending her meetings. I don’t believe she is calling her sponsor anymore either. At least I don’t hear her on the phone like I used to every afternoon.
Beth is not aware of what’s going on as she’s at school. She might not notice even if she were home. She’s preoccupied with herself. The wedding is getting closer, so I don’t blame her for this. But I am tempted to talk to her about the situation. If our mother keeps up her drinking she might end up a complete drunk by the actual wedding day and what kind of mother-of-the-bride will that make?
Rosa knows for sure about the drinking. I know this because my mother hides the empty wine bottles in the kitchen trash can under newspapers. They clink together when she asks Henry to empty it. They look at each other and shake their heads. When I am there to witness this they look away when my eyes meets theirs. It’s like they want to keep this knowledge from me, but it is no good and they know it. I stare blankly back at them, with tears in my eyes, which is a dead giveaway that I know what’s going on.
Rosa asks if she can fix me something good to eat. I shake my head. Henry asks if I’d like him to take me someplace. They are trying so hard to make my world work right. I love them all the more for this, but there is nothing they can do. It is up to my mother to change the situation. Her Alcoholics Anonymous book is still on her bedside table. I sneak it into my room and start to read. Maybe there is information that will help me find a way to convince her that she needs to get back on her program. An early chapter explains that the founder of the organization discovered that the only way he was going to remain sober was to help carry his message to another alcoholic. If this is the only way to recover, my mother is in worse shape than I thought. She is not in contact with any other alcoholics presently, so she is hardly in the position to help them stay sober in order to stay sober herself. I turn the pages and keep searching for something that can help me help my mother. I discover that she must reach her bottom before she will be once again willing to get help. And the bottom is different for each and every drinker. Who’s to know where hers is? The book also says that she must place herself in the hands of a higher power. That’s a start. I could get her to Mass every day. Going on Sunday is obviously not enough. I go find Henry. He is more than happy to drive us over to St. Lucy’s. I take the Alcoholics Anonymous book back to my mother’s room to place it on her nightstand. My mother is on her bed sleeping. Her mouth is open and an empty bottle of wine is on the floor—so much for hiding her drinking. But this is good. The book says those that hide it are in complete denial, which makes it much harder for them to reach bottom.
In the morning I hear my mother on the phone with her sponsor. She is talking in AA language, which makes me happy. It could be a sign that she is ready to go back to being sober.
“I’ve picked up,” my mother says.
I go into the library and quietly pick up the extension. Now I am an eavesdropper, but I forgive myself. My mother’s life—all of our lives are on the line. Her sponsor’s name is Alice. She has been in the program for over twenty years. She is telling my mother that there will be many tests along the way, but she can step up to them one day at a time.
Many tests, that’s a scary thought.
“Just how many?” I blurt into the phone without thinking. When I realize what I’ve done I drop the handset back in the phone rest and wait for my mother to come looking for me. I know exactly what I will say to her. I will tell her that I love her and that I am worried and I want to help her get back on her program. She will look at me and smile and tell me everything will be alright, and not to worry one more minute. I close my eyes and wish this with all my might. No more tests. No more tests. No more tests.
My mother peeks her head into the library. She does not smile and tell me everything will be alright. She opens the door and says, “This is my battle, Andi. Not yours, sweetheart. There is really nothing you can do. It’s up to me.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. It’s up to her and I’m terrified she’s not up to it. And I’m worried that any little thing could push her over the edge. Like finding out my father is having an affair, which is not really a little thing, it’s a major thing. Surely that would push her over the edge. Then I realize, going over the edge would mean she’s sure to hit her bottom. So, there is something I can do. I can help her hit her bottom. And I know just how to do it. I should have thought of it sooner. Now there’s no time to waste.
Chapter Forty-five
I’ve been working on my plan to help my mother, but right now I have to set it aside. We’re having a memorial service at Sunny Meadows for Mr. Sterling. All the nurses set it up. Today is Thursday and the Director of Nursing has called in the minister who comes every Friday. The nurses have chairs set up in rows for the nursing home residents that can still sit in them without falling over. They put the wheel chairs in the back area, but I doubt those that will be sitting there can even see. They probably don’t care. They probably don’t know what this occasion is all about. They’re looking all around like, what is the deal here?—and a couple of them that always act pretty strange are swatting at each other, like kids do in a car if you’re on a long trip and they think the other person is too far over on their side.
There’s a podium with a white cloth draped over the top that has a cross on it. Two of the nurses have put construction paper on the windows to make it look like stained glass, which I think is a very nice thing to do. But then I learned the elementary school kids were here yesterday making them for today. Still, they used them, so I have to give the nurses credit for doing that.
Of course the setting is not a real chapel, but it’s nice the nurses tried to make it look like one. They’re being very nice today, which makes me want to ask them why they weren’t so nice to Mr. Sterling while he was still alive. I’m sure he would have appreciated it. But no, they were always telling him to be quiet, or ordering him to eat and standing over him to make sure he shoveled in all the peas on his plate and I know for a fact he hated peas, so he shouldn’t have had to eat them. They could have given him corn. He really liked corn.
Mrs. Sterling is sitting in the first chair in the front row. I think she’s kind of enjoying herself—like it’s her day. All the people that have their faculties start walking up to her after the minister says what a great man Mr. Sterling was—but you tell me how he knows, I never saw him once in their room—and they all pat her on the back and then they lean over and say things to her.
“Our prayers are with you, Mavis.” And Joyce says, “He was a fine man, now, wasn’t he?” That’s the only nice thing she’s ever said about him. It’s a shame that he’s dead and will never hear it. Joyce is the one who always made him eat the peas.
Right now, I’m sort of used to Mr. Sterling being dead. I’ve read to Mavis every day since. It’s much better reading to people when you don’t have to shout. Still, it would be nice if he was still alive. They could die together. I picture them reaching across their beds and holding hands and Mr. Sterling saying, “See you on the other side, Mavey.” That’s what he always called her, Mavey. And Mrs. Sterling would have said, “Beat your ass there, Buddy.” She always called him Buddy, which I thought was really cute. She curses a lot, I’ll give her that. But it always made Mr. Sterling laugh, right out loud. But he never cursed that I know of.
After the service, I concentrate on baby Joshua. He’s
home with Amy from the hospital and is doing really good. He’s still not the size he should be for a baby his age. He’s in the twentieth percentile, which Amy says means eighty percent of all babies his age are bigger than him. “But that can change,” she adds. So, we’ll see. He’s two months old now and looks all around, so I think he can see things clearly. Sometimes I think he has a little smile on his face, but my mother insists it’s gas. It looks like a little smile if you ask me.
Beth came home this past weekend and took over the place. She’s getting everything all set for the rehearsal dinner, which they are having at the Ritz-Carlton. I nearly choked when she picked that place. The last time I was there wasn’t so hot with my Dad and Donna sucking each other’s faces. When Beth announced that she and Parker had made the arrangements, I watched my father’s face to see if he had a reaction, but he didn’t.
“That’s good,” he said. He lives this double life, but he can keep it completely off his face.
My mother and I are busy packing for the cruise. She took me shopping and I got some really cool clothes to wear, deck pants and middy tops and plenty of bathing suits. My mother insists you need to wear a different one each day, like anybody cares. So now I have six of them, but I like the blue striped one best of all, so I’ll probably end up wearing that every day. I put everything in the suitcase in the order that my mother instructs. It makes her happy, but if it were left to me, I would just dump them all into the suitcase in a heap and sit on the case to close it.
Bridget and I are excited. We’re hoping that there will be plenty of boys. The ship brochure says they have all these teen things to do, so we’re counting on not only girls being around.
“Just think,” Bridget says. She’s doing my hair in a French braid and it looks totally great. “We could actually be meeting our future husbands. You just never know. And then, years later, people ask how you met and you say, ‘Oh, on this cruise ship I went on.’”
“I don’t know about that,” I tell her. “It’ll be nice just to meet some cute boys. They don’t have to be the ones we’re going to marry.”
At dinner, my mother explains that Rodney is coming over with his mother after dinner. Normally this would have my heart pounding like it was a drum. But I’ve gotten used to the idea that there no longer will be a me-and-Rodney future, so it’s a big letdown.
“His fiancée is coming with him,” my mother adds. She puts a serving of mashed potatoes on my plate, which I really don’t want. I want to make sure my hips stay as skinny as they are right now for the cruise, so I’ve been cutting out starch totally. If I do meet a cute boy I want to look great. “Isn’t that nice?” she says. “Andi, are you listening?”
I nod my head that I am. Actually, I don’t really want to meet her, so I must still have some feelings for Rodney or why would I care?
“You remember,” my mother says. “Her name is Sarah.”
Just rub it in, will you. I nod again, but my lips are twisted up in a smirk. I don’t know why he wants to come over and introduce his fiancée to us anyway. It’s not like we’re family. But it will be nice to see if he has full use of his hands. I’m still sort of mad at him for not loving me back when I loved him. And I still fantasize about him. I picture him seeing me again and then realizing, Oh my God, I love Andi! Wouldn’t that be cool? Except for telling Sarah. She’s probably a very nice girl. There is no sense in both of us having a broken heart from Rodney. Besides, I’m sure that’s not going to happen, but I think about it for a while and it’s really romantic. Like something on a soap opera. Where the camera zeroes in on one of the actors and you can hear the words in their head and they’ve just made a major discovery, like Rodney really loving me for instance, and then the music starts playing really loud, and then they cut to a commercial. I always love those parts, even if I haven’t been watching the show on a regular basis and have no way of knowing what’s really going on.
When we’re done with dinner, my mother says not to wander off. “They’ll be here soon,” she says.
I go upstairs and flop on my bed and look through the latest People magazine. I like to know what’s going on with my favorite, Tom Cruise, or maybe Meg Ryan. I like her a lot, too. I trust People magazine to tell the truth. All those other magazines have a lot of lies in them. I’m fairly sure of this because they get sued a lot.
Ten minutes later I hear the door chimes. It must be them, Rodney and Sarah and Rodney’s mother. I lean over the banister. Rosa goes to answer the door. Then I remember I haven’t even brushed my teeth and what if I have spinach caught in one of them? I run into my bathroom. My French braid still looks perfect. I could kiss Bridget. I didn’t even know Rodney was coming and she does my hair and it looks so great.
I have on a cotton shift and sandals and my legs are very brown. I put some lip gloss on and some blush. I can’t believe how good I look. Something’s been happening to my face lately. It’s looking more and more like Beth’s. It’s a small miracle.
Rodney and Sarah are sitting next to each other on the sofa. Rodney jumps up when I walk into the room.
“Andi,” he says all friendly-like.
Now I’m feeling very self conscious. I don’t know what to say. “Hi!” is all that comes out. I notice his hands. He doesn’t have any bandages on. I’m glad he’s all better, even though he doesn’t love me.
Rosa has a large tray with iced tea and pastries. Sarah takes a glass but nothing else. She takes a sip and sets it down on a coaster on the end table, then turns back to Rodney.
“This is Sarah, Andi. Sarah, meet Andi. She was a great help to me when my grandmother died.”
I really want to hate her or something. She took Rodney away before I even had a chance, but then I remember she met him first. They’ve been engaged since Christmas, so hating her would be totally unfair. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to shake her hand, so I nod and smile and turn to Rodney’s mother.
“Hello, Mrs. Hall,” I say. “It’s nice to see you again.”
I know that will make my mother very happy. I’m doing everything right. I go over and take the chair next to the sofa where Sarah’s sitting. For some reason being around her makes me very nervous, like maybe she can tell I once had a thing for Rodney and in a way I still do. When he said my name when I came into the room I was hoping he’d get that look on his face that I imagined where he realizes he’s in love with me. Of course, he didn’t and I admit to being disappointed even though I knew in my heart it wouldn’t happen.
Rosa holds the tray of iced tea out for me to take a glass, which I do, and then for some stupid reason I reach to pick up a pastry, before I remember I’m not eating any starches or sweets ’til after the cruise. When I pick up the glass, it slips and I lurch forward to try and get a grip on it, which makes it worse. The glass tips sideways and hits the side of my hand and the tea ends up all over me and Sarah. It’s very cold and she nearly jumps a foot. I’m too much in shock to feel it.
Rosa sets the tray down and runs into the kitchen. She’ll bring back enough paper towels to sop up the ocean. Rosa’s good for emergencies. In the interim, my mother jumps up.
“Oh goodness,” she says. “Are you okay, dear?” she asks and gives me a look that says, what is with you tonight?
I’m so embarrassed. It’s bad enough that Rodney doesn’t love me one bit like I loved him, but now he knows what a big klutz I am. Sarah is dabbing at her clothes with her hands and grinning.
“Andi,” she says, “Do you have anything dry I can put on?” Now she’s laughing. She stands up and loops her arm through mine. “Excuse us, y’all,” she drawls. “We girls get a chance to make a second entrance. Don’t go away!”
And to think that I was so prepared not to like her, that I’d be so unhappy that she was ending up with Rodney. Now I see she’s perfect for him and a really nice person, too. Every once in a while, out of the blue, life just stands up in your face and says, gotcha.
Chapter Forty-six
My
plan to help my mother concerns an idea I had way back when I first found out about my father and Donna. I thought of writing notes to my mother from Donna to let her in on what was going on. I decided against it when I realized I would be ruining the wedding plans, and Amy was in the hospital in danger of having the baby too early, plus I didn’t want to hurt my mother, so I changed my mind. Now, I’m thinking it would be good to have a letter or two of this nature as a back-up plan in case my mother starts drinking again. Really make her hit her bottom. She’s not drinking right now, but one never knows. It’s good to always be prepared, an adult thing to do. I decide to write several letters and take out some stationery Beth has in her desk drawer. The first one I compose is one from Mrs. Decker. She is the one who has a face that looks just like her Doberman’s. A letter from her makes the most sense because she is always walking up and down the street with that dog, sometimes scaring the daylights out of people who happening to be walking, too. I don’t know this Doberman’s name, but he looks like he could swallow your leg with one bite. She got this dog when Mr. Decker died, so the dog is most likely for protection and probably pretty ferocious given the right circumstances. I always stay out of his way.
I start thinking about how to compose the letter and what words Mrs. Decker would choose to use and decide to keep it very simple.
Dear Margaret, [I’m fairly certain she would use my mother’s first name. I have seen them conversing from time to time when Mrs. Decker was outside without her dog.]
This is not an easy note to write, but I feel you should know what is going on with your husband. He is having sex with the young neighbor next door to you. [I cross out “having sex” and start over.] He is having a sexual relationship with the young neighbor next door to you. I am sorry to be the bearer of this news. Sincerely, your concerned neighbor [I cross out “your concerned neighbor” and write “one of your concerned neighbors”].
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