by Freya Barker
I let her words sink in. It's not news to me that my mother is wise, but her insight still surprises me. Unfortunately, there is one bit of indisputable reality I didn't bring up yet.
“He didn’t stop me.”
“What was that, honey?” Mom leans in as if she hadn’t heard.
“Matt—he never made an effort to stop me. In fact, he practically told me he saw no future.”
“Hmmm.” She leans back in her chair and takes a sip of her coffee. “Who’s to say he’s not thinking the same about you right now?”
My initial reaction would be to deny, but instead, I let my thoughts drift back to the last few interactions we had. Could it be I jumped to the worst conclusions, like some self-fulfilling prophecy?
The shrill ring of the phone jerks me from my thoughts, as I watch Mom rush to take the call. She’s barely said hello when her face pales and a chill fills my blood.
“Where to?—Okay, I’m on my way.”
“Dad?”
She turns at the sound of my voice, pressing her hand to her chest. “They’re taking him to St. Luke’s.”
CHAPTER TEN
Matt
I’m not sure what to expect when I pull up to the simple house I grew up in.
The past few days, I’ve only briefly spoken to Leena once, but that was before we got stuck in that snowstorm. I haven’t been able to connect since then. I’m hoping she’s home.
The plan had been for her to wait until the very last minute to inform my parents I'd be home for Christmas, but I wonder if she perhaps spilled the beans early.
The house is quiet and mostly dark, even though it’s only eight thirty or so.
The place never was much to look at. I remember we’d paint the siding and porch every five years, but there was never any effort at making it look like a home. Functional was good enough, both inside and outside. Flowers were considered frivolous and the only things growing in the garden during the spring and summer months were vegetables.
The only reason I can tell my folks are ready for Christmas is the Star of David lights hanging in each of the windows.
Christmas is a big religious holiday in their church. As kids, the highlight was always the family meal immediately following long hours sitting in church pews on Christmas morning. No gifts, no Christmas movies or music, and—other than a nativity set next to a large candle sitting on the sideboard every year—no decorations either. A Christmas tree was too much of a mess, no matter how much I begged for one each year.
I just about jump out of my skin when I hear a knock at my driver’s side window.
I almost don’t recognize her. The last time I saw Leena she was a gangly, awkward teen with big green eyes that were too large for her thin face, and looked older than they should at only thirteen.
This woman is gorgeous, her long dark hair hanging in a thick braid over her shoulder, and her curves barely hidden by the frumpy clothes. The only thing unchanged are those big green eyes. Even at now twenty-five years old, they still look like those of an old soul.
I slip from the car and try to give her a hug, but she pushes me away.
“Father may be watching.”
At her whispered words, I spot a slight movement from the corner of my eye and just catch the curtain on one of the upstairs rooms slip back in place.
“I don’t care,” I state, firmly closing her in my arms. Her arms tentatively slip around my waist, hands grabbing hold of my winter coat.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” she mumbles, and this time when she moves back I let her go.
“What did you expect? I haven’t been able to get hold of you. Are you all right?” I try to look her in the eyes, but she keeps them downcast, shuffling her feet in the traces of snow on the shoveled driveway.
“She found my wish list.”
“Mother?” She nods sharply. “What wish list?” I want to know.
“I was so excited, I started making a list of all the things I want to do when we get to Portland.” I don’t even need to ask all the things she would have on that list, I imagine they’re mostly the same things I couldn’t wait to enjoy when I left home. “I told them the truth. That you were coming to visit for Christmas, and I was hoping to go back with you after.”
“How did they react?”
“Father didn’t say anything, hasn’t spoken to me at all, but mother dragged me to church. I’ve been on my knees, praying for forgiveness for two days straight.”
If it were up to me, I’d bundle her in my vehicle and start driving, but it’s not. It’s up to her. I can honestly say my life is better without my parents in it, but just because I don’t like them much doesn’t mean I don’t still love them. Leena has lived with them longer, and she hasn’t had a chance yet to see how families are supposed to function. As much as I’d like to make the call for her, she has to be the one to make the decision.
“You’re not welcome here,” my father’s booming voice sounds from the front porch. When I turn to face him, he’s already coming down the steps toward us. “Leena, go inside. Your mother is waiting.”
“You’re an adult, Leena. You don’t have to listen. You have choices,” I tell her softly, ignoring my father, who has stopped halfway down the path and is watching.
Leena’s eyes dart back and forth between. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”
“I know, honey. Trust me, I know.”
“What should I do? I can’t go now. I haven’t even said goodbye to Mother, and all my things are still inside.”
I never fooled myself into thinking this would be easy, but seeing my sister this tormented was something I didn’t expect. I get it—more than ever, I get it—after watching Tana and Flynn drive away, feeling torn in two directions myself.
“Come inside, Leena,” Father calls out again. “This is your last chance, or the door will be closed to you for good.”
Jesus.
“Look,” I put my hands on her shoulders and force her to look at me. “Here’s what we’ll do; I’m going to find a place to sleep, and you call me tomorrow morning and tell me what you want to do. Okay? Do what you need to do and let me know when you’re ready. I’ll be back in a flash to pick you up.”
The relief on her face tells me I made the right decision, giving her a little more time. “Thank you. I’ll call.” Without another word, she scoots past me, around Father, and up the steps into the house.
“Why do you have to make it more difficult for her?” Even as the words escape my lips, I know they’re useless. “Don’t you want to see her happy?”
"She was happy." He returns stubbornly. "Until you filled her mind with tales of the big world out there. Tempting her to turn her back on her family, her intended husband, her Church, and her God."
“I am her family,” I shout back, slapping my hand on my chest. “She doesn’t want the man you’re trying to force her to marry, and all her Church and her God have done is give you an excuse to control her. She’s not happy. She never was. All I want is for her to have the freedom to choose for herself.”
He doesn’t say anything else, just stands there glaring at me.
I turn and get back behind the wheel, there’s nothing for me here. I can’t break through those self-righteous beliefs he clings to like gospel, and I certainly won’t bend to them. I just hope Leena finds the strength to do what is best for her.
-
It was late last night when I finally fell asleep.
The Golden Gate Motel was the closest place to my parents’ house I could find. Not nearly as comfortable as the suite I spent the past few nights in, but at least the room was clean.
What kept me awake was the silence. Knowing it would still be there when I woke up again. Alone in bumfuck Minnesota, feeling rejected times two, and stewing in my own misery.
The feeling is still there when I wake up, but the bright sunlight streaming in motivates me to shake it off and hop in the shower. The small coffee maker in the room only produ
ces half a cup of dishwater after gurgling for half an hour, and I finally give up and head out in search for stronger stuff.
I find a coffee shop in Cloquet, that serves a very casual breakfast, and I take a drive along the St. Louis river after. Killing time. I hate not knowing what to expect, and the prospect of having to make that fucking drive back to Portland by myself is not sitting well. However, the longer it takes for Leena to call me, the likelier it is she is having second thoughts about coming.
Who the hell am I kidding? Yes, I'm anxiously awaiting Leena's call, but I've been pining for that damn phone to ring since I entered my number into Tana's contact list yesterday morning.
When it finally rings, and I hit answer on my hands-free system, I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed it’s my sister on the phone.
“I want to stay.” My heart sinks at her words, but just as I’m about to question her, she adds, “At least until after Christmas. It’s only four days away.”
“Okay. That’s fine, it’s what you wanted to do in the first place, right?”
“Right. Except...”
“Except what?”
“I’d hoped we could have a meal together—as a family—but Father doesn’t want you here. I’m sorry,” she adds in a whisper.
“That’s all right.” My words are meant to comfort her, but they do little for the sharp stab of disappointment.
This is why I didn’t bother coming back for so many years; why would I willingly subject myself to the pain of repeated rejection?
“But what are you going to do for Christmas?” she asks.
Fuck if I know, but to her I say, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll figure it out. Just give me a call when you’re ready.”
I’ve barely hung up the phone when it rings again.
“Did you forget something?”
“.........”
“Hello?”
“Matt?” The breath I’ve been holding whooshes from my lungs at the sound of Tana’s voice.
“Tana, it’s so good—” I start, but she doesn’t let me get very far.
“Matt, I need your help.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tana
“Give me twenty minutes.”
That’s all he says before ending the call.
I prop a sleepy Flynn a little higher on my shoulder and sit down on the hard plastic chair in the lobby, with a view of the parking lot, to wait.
When we arrived at the hospital, we were told Dad was just being taken into the OR, but little else. Mom was invited to wait in the small surgical waiting room, but I was informed no children under twelve were allowed. I urged Mom to go ahead, I would figure something out, and watched her head down the hall. She’d aged at least ten years in the past half hour, and I’d never seen her that fragile. It shook me to my core.
Finding a quiet spot to make some phone calls, it occurred to me my support system was back on the East Coast. Friends I could call on, Mrs. Daily next door, they were all fifteen hundred miles away. There was only one person I could think of I would trust with my daughter.
Flynn is fast asleep when I see Matt's tall shape jogging through the remaining layer of snow toward the entrance, and I want to cry with relief. His eyes scan the lobby and spot me easily. Without a word, he sits down and pulls both me and Flynn into his arms.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he mumbles in my hair, pressing a kiss there. “Go look after your mom. I’ll hang out here with the little one.”
“You should grab the stroller from the back of the Toyota. She’ll sleep in that. She’s had breakfast but didn’t eat much for lunch, and—”
He cups my face in his cold hands and leans his forehead to mine. “I’ve got it. Give me Flynn and your car keys and go be with your mom.”
His warm brown eyes look at me with such care, I feel overwhelmed and am about to lose the battle with my tears. Brushing away a stray one with his thumb, Matt leans in to press a soft kiss on my lips. Then he easily transfers my sleeping daughter into his hold, and with a tilt of his head, urges me to go.
“Anything?”
Mom looks up when I walk in, her eyes red-rimmed and her hands wringing the life out of the hanky in her lap. She’s the only person I know who still carries around a linen hanky.
“Nothing. Where’s Flynnie?” she asks, looking behind me.
“She’s taken care of. Why don’t I go ask if there’s anything more they can tell us.”
She gives me a nod and a watery smile.
Outside in the hallway, I latch on to the first official looking person I see, a woman wearing surgical scrubs.
“I’m sorry, is there anyone who can tell me what’s happening with my father? All my mother and I were told is that he was brought here and was taken to surgery, but we don’t even know for what.”
“What’s your father’s name?”
“Maxim Romer.”
“Have a seat in the waiting room. I’ll find out for you.”
True to her word, not ten minutes later, the woman walks in and sits down across from us. “Mrs. Romer?” Mom nods and grabs my hand. “Your husband was brought in suffering a myocardial infarction, or heart attack, from what looks to be an arterial blockage. He is in the care of one of our best cardiologists, Dr. Lockett, who is performing an angioplasty. That’s a fairly routine intervention to clear the blockage and restore blood flow to the heart. He’ll insert a catheter into an artery, most often in the groin, and guide it to the blocked vessel to clear it. It’s likely that a small wire mesh stent will be placed at the same time, to ensure the passage stays open.”
“Will that solve the problem?” I ask.
“The immediate problem likely so, but it won’t prevent other arteries from clogging up. Dr. Lockett will go over everything with you.”
“How long will he be?” Mom wants to know.
“Shouldn’t be much longer.”
Just as she said, the cardiologist walks in, just twenty minutes after she left, to inform us that Dad is in recovery and will be moved to the ICU shortly. He’ll likely have to stay for a few days, but the doctor promises Mom he’ll do his best to have him home before Christmas. With a promise to send for her as soon as Dad is in the ICU, he rushes off.
“Now what?” Mom says, her shoulders slumping. “These last few days are going to be crazy at the bakery. I don’t know—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“But Flynn—where is she anyway?” I knew it wouldn’t be long before she got back to that.
“Matt has her.”
“Matt? The Matt? The one you told me about this morning?”
I shrug. “He told me to call him if I needed him for anything. I needed him for Flynn. He’s good with her.”
Mom scrutinizes me. “And he just came?”
I nod, a little smile pulling at my mouth. “Took him twenty minutes.”
“Wow,” she says, her eyebrows raised.
“Yeah. Wow.”
-
“Hi.”
Matt turns his head at the sound of my voice.
I find him sitting in the cafeteria, drinking coffee, with Flynn still sleeping in the stroller by his side.
“Hey, can I get you something?” he asks when I bend down to check on my daughter.
“I’d do anything for a coffee.”
“Coming right up.”
I sit down and watch him weave his way through the tables to the counter before turning my gaze outside. At some point, it started snowing again. Lightly this time. I should probably call the bakery and let them know what's going on, but I need to come up with some kind of plan first.
Looks like Dad will be in the hospital at least for the next couple of days, and Mom should stay with him. That’s why I told her I’d take care of things, which would normally not be a problem, except for Flynn. Maybe I can set up a cot in Dad’s little office off the bakery in the back. I could just bring her in and she could take her naps there. Not ideal to have a t
oddler underfoot during crunch time, but it is what it is.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Matt walks up, a tray perched on one hand.
“You look like a pro,” I comment, distracting him.
"I am a pro," he retorts with a grin, as he places the tray on the table. "That's what eighteen years of experience does."
“That’s a lot of food,” I point out when I look at the collection of pastries alongside my coffee.
“You need to eat.” He waits for me to take a bite of a Danish. “Now, how’s your dad?”
“Dad had a heart attack. Mom’s with him now. Only one person allowed in the ICU.” By the time I finish explaining what the cardiologist told us, I’m working on a chocolate croissant. I’m a stress eater.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, putting a comforting arm around my shoulders. That’s when I realize there are tears rolling down my face.
Dropping the now soggy, half-finished croissant back on the plate, I turn my face into his warm neck, indulging in a few moments of weakness. He’s quiet, just rubbing a hand up and down my spine. It’s exactly what I need.
“Shit. I have to call the bakery,” I blurt out, pulling out of his arms. I’d forgotten about that. “That’s what I was trying to plan. The place is crazy busy these next few days. Crap. I also need to find Flynn a cot. I should—”
“Slow down for a second. I’ve got nowhere to be the next few days. I’m not a baker, I’m half decent in the kitchen, but I’ve got years of experience with demanding customers.”
I lean in and surprise him with a firm kiss on his lips. “Thank you for that, but the store is not the big concern, the bakery is. Pete’s been with my parents for years and takes care of the day-to-day baking, but he can’t handle the high pace of the Christmas rush. They just hired a second guy not long ago, but this’ll be his first Christmas, so he’ll need supervision. When you caught me thinking earlier, I was trying to sort out logistics.”
“Are you talking about Flynn? I can look after her,” he offers straight away. “Your call, but I can help out while I’m doing that. It wouldn’t be the first time I serve customers with a little one on my hip.” He notices my questioning look and chuckles. “Not mine: Syd and Gunnar’s little boy.”