Between Friends

by Kiernan, Kristy

I needed that.

  “No,” I said. “Thank you, though.”

  “Okay. We’re here for anything you need, any questions you have; any time you want to stop back in, we’re here.”

  It should have been reassuring, and yet it filled me with dread. “I have a lot of information for you, cookbooks, and information packets, and, oh, just about anything you might have questions about. Why don’t you grab a seat, and I’ll get it all together for you?”

  “Okay,” I said, smiling at a tired-looking woman in the reception area and taking a chair next to the door.

  “Picking up?’ the woman asked as Dee left.

  “Oh, no,” I said, leaving it at that. She wasn’t deterred.

  “Getting information? For you?”

  I cleared my throat and looked toward the hallway Dee had disappeared down.

  “Yes. For me.”

  “When will you start?”

  “Don’t really know,” I said, shaking my head.

  The woman tilted her head to the side and studied me, then smiled, leaned forward, and stuck her hand out. “I’m Susan. Brandon, my son, likes me to be here toward the end. When he was younger, we had a few problems when they disconnected. Now, well, now it’s just a tradition, you know?”

  I didn’t, no, but I nodded and shook her hand, and said, “I’m Cora.”

  “Is this your first visit?”

  “Yes, it is.” And then, because she seemed to be waiting for me to make polite conversation, I asked, “Has Brandon been coming for long?”

  “Oh, yes, since he was about seven. He’s nineteen now; we just moved him over from the pediatric center last year. They’re good here; we’ve only had a couple of problems, cramping, you know. And sometimes that just can’t be helped. So, you haven’t started yet? Got your access?”

  “Uh, next week, a graft.”

  She appraised me again, as if she could see beneath my skin. “Anyone step up for a transplant yet?”

  I laughed, shocked at her boldness, but I supposed when you’d been doing this for three days a week for twelve years, this might be a perfectly normal conversation to have.

  “No. How about for Brandon?”

  “Oh, yeah, we’ve gotten the call four times. None ever came through, though. I gave him one of mine when he was eleven, but he rejected at fifteen, so it’s been back on hemo ever since.”

  I didn’t laugh at that. Susan hooked her thumb toward the woman with the frames on her tray and lowered her voice.

  “Flora, she’s been called eight times. But no luck. Her girls—you’ll see them when you leave, they wait outside with their grandmother—they’re the most beautiful little things you’ve ever seen. Do you have children?”

  “I—no, I don’t,” I replied.

  She nodded. “It’s tough on kids, watching parents go through this.” She laughed a little. “’ Course it’s hard on parents watching their kids go through it, too.”

  Dee returned with a stack of pamphlets, and I thanked her and stood to leave. Susan looked at her watch and stood, too.

  “Hey,” she said, “why don’t you come back and meet him before you go?”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “I don’t want to disturb anyone.”

  “He’d really love it,” she said. “It can get pretty boring for him here.”

  “Well, okay,” I said, shrinking from it but unable to resist her hopeful expression. Dee patted my arm as I followed Susan back to the third pod. The technician looked up from her computer at us and smiled.

  “We’ll be about fifteen more minutes,” she said softly, and Susan nodded.

  “Thanks, Shelly. I want to introduce him to a new friend real quick.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Brandon looked up expectantly as we approached, yanking his earbuds out by the cord.

  “Brandon, this is Cora,” Susan said. “She’s going to start hemo soon. I thought she’d like to meet you.”

  He gave me that steady once-over again.

  “I’m doing my orientation,” I said, feeling the need to explain my presence.

  He leaned his head back against the chair.

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured. You got that look.”

  I didn’t ask what look, and he didn’t elaborate.

  “When do you start?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I said. “They’re doing my access next week.”

  “Well, when you start, try to get a chair next to me. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

  I smiled at him, the ambassador of dialysis. His sullenness seemed more like simple fatigue to me now, something I could readily identify with.

  “We’re about ready,” Shelly said pointedly.

  “Okay, well, it was nice to meet you, Brandon.”

  “See you later,” he said.

  Susan walked me back to the corridor.

  “Thanks,” she said. “He’s such a good kid, and he likes meeting new people.”

  “Well, good luck. I hope you get a good call soon and it works out.”

  “Oh, we will,” she said. “I have to go, but listen, good luck to you, too, okay? This isn’t the end, you know? You can have a whole happy life on dialysis; it’s all in what you bring to it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, trying for a smile, fearing that it appeared as little more than a grimace, and dropped it, raising a hand instead.

  As I left I passed an older woman sitting on the bench outside, watching two little girls playing in the grass beside the center, their dark hair lifting in the breeze. She gave me a wave, and I waved back but hustled to the car, avoiding more conversation and thinking about Flora, the girls’ mother who wouldn’t allow them inside.

  I slumped in the driver’s seat, letting the heat that had built up envelop me, unable to start the car for a few minutes, thinking of Brandon, and Flora, and the community I was about to join against my will.

  When I finally had the strength to start the car, I drove across the street to the coffee shop and had a double espresso.

  8

  ALI

  Benny and I continued our fight on the phone for the first week, and I hovered close by when he had brief conversations with a subdued Letty, watching for any signs that he was taking his anger out on her. But eventually his tone gentled, and we started having short bursts of affectionate, playful banter that wove in and out of our more serious talks.

  He started to drive past the store a couple of times a day in his cruiser. He never stopped, and I’d found myself watching for him, looking forward to it, raising my hand in a wave that he returned with a hesitant half salute of his own.

  After almost two weeks had passed, he called me on my cell after work. I smiled involuntarily when I saw his name pop up on the phone display and answered before it had a chance to ring twice.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey, Al. How are you? Are you okay? How’s Letty?” he asked in a rush, as if afraid I’d hang up.

  “I’m fine, Letty’s fine. How are you?”

  “I’m doing okay. I just wanted to call to tell you that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  “Okay,” I said cautiously.

  “Well, I thought you should know,” he said, pausing and taking a deep breath before continuing quickly, “I’ve set up an appointment with the department psychologist.”

  “Really? When?”

  “He wants me to come in Tuesday and Thursday next week. It was the first time he could get me in.”

  “Twice?” I asked. “You told him what was happening?”

  “Yeah, I told him, you know, as much as I could without going in for a full visit,” he said.

  “That’s good, Benny. Are you still having the nightmares?”

  He was silent for a moment, and then said, “Yeah. I’m not sleeping much, though. I miss you. I miss Letty.”

  “We miss you, too,” I whispered.

  “Is she there? Could I talk to her?”

  “She and Cora walked down to th
e beach,” I said, “but I’ll have her call you later.”

  “Is she being good for you?” he asked. “Where she’s supposed to be, and when?”

  “She’s doing fine. Don’t worry, she’s being punished appropriately.”

  Of course she wasn’t, not really. I dropped her at school and Cora picked her up, and she didn’t go anywhere without one or both of us, but she’d been flying again, and we’d been out to dinner a couple of times. She wasn’t exactly suffering. I knew I was probably being too light on her.

  “Of course. You—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “You were right to leave, Ali. You’re a good example for Letty. You’re a good mother to our daughter, the best I could have hoped for.”

  I closed my eyes, savoring the sound of his voice.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I’m going to get it together, okay?”

  “Okay. Why don’t you call me after your appointment on Tuesday?”

  “All right. And you call me whenever you want, doesn’t matter what time it is.”

  That was more the Benny I knew, and when we hung up, I looked around my borrowed room at Cora’s and took a deep, shaky breath. I never thought I’d be in this position, never thought I’d have left my home, left Benny, but then I’d never thought my gentle husband was capable of frightening me into leaving.

  Thank God Cora was here. I didn’t know what I would do with Letty, what I would do with myself. I changed into a bathing suit and inspected one of the old bikes in Cora’s garage, pulling out a cobwebbed pump and plumping up the tires before throwing a towel and some water bottles into the basket and heading down to the beach after Letty and Cora.

  When we were kids, we’d make this short trek almost every day, even in the rain. The beach was open season, always, trusted by us and by our parents. We’d drop our bikes next to the sea grapes, no need to lock them up, and when we actually had shoes on, they’d go next to the bikes.

  I carefully locked Cora’s bike onto the stand and pulled the removable basket off the handlebars, stuffing my flip-flops into it before heading down the walkway. The sand was still hot enough to hurt, and I hurried down to the water before looking around for Cora and Letty. They were nowhere to be seen, but I spotted Cora’s beach quilt, an ancient, faded thing that made me smile with nostalgia.

  I dropped my things and lay down on my back, pushing my sunglasses to the top of my head to get some sun on my face. When we were teenagers, the need for sunscreen had not yet appeared on our radar, and we drenched ourselves in baby oil and iodine, and, oddly enough, I’d not yet begun to be sorry for it.

  In fact, considering we were in our forties, both Cora and I seemed to be holding up pretty well. Aside from her being a little sick and bloated on this visit, Cora still had the smile and personality of the girl I’d met on this very beach thirty years ago. She could still drive me crazy, too. I’d been trying to talk to her about Drew all week, but she’d avoided my questions and sought out ways to include Letty in our every conversation.

  I should have been able to relax. It was quiet on the beach but for the soft, rhythmic rush of the Gulf meeting the edge of the beach and the occasional cry of a seagull. But my mind wouldn’t settle, wouldn’t accept this rare moment of quiet. I put my sunglasses back in place and sat up, scanning the beach for Cora and Letty again. I finally stood and waded out into the water. As I cooled off I spotted them, walking along the water’s edge, back toward the quilt, and my breath caught at the sight of them.

  Letty was almost as tall as Cora, and seeing them side by side, in bathing suits, brightly lit by the sun and framed by the blue backdrop of a cloudless sky, I realized that they could have been sisters, or, more accurately, mother and daughter.

  They had the same shape: the slender neck, slim hips, long legs, the same hair, the same jawline. The few die-hards left on the beach faded from my sight, and I was suddenly alone except for those two women walking toward me. The current pushed lightly, and I let it take control of me, weaving back and forth with it, hypnotizing me with its rhythm, Cora and Letty like identical, hazy mirages in the distance.

  As they drew closer I saw the differences, but now that I’d seen the similarities I couldn’t pretend they weren’t there. They split as they approached, Letty headed toward the quilt, Cora headed toward me.

  “Hey,” she called as she waded in. “I thought that was you. Glad you changed your mind.”

  I forced a smile to my face, seeing Letty in Cora’s wide grin, in the light freckles across her chest, hearing her in Cora’s voice.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I wanted to talk to Letty. You know, this thing with Benny has sort of taken the heat off her—”

  “Oh no,” she interrupted me. “If anything it’s made her feel even worse. She thinks this is all her fault, you know.”

  I sighed. “Of course I know that, but there’s only so much I can reassure her that it’s not. And this was serious, Cora. There are things we need to talk about, things that were in those notes. If Benny and I weren’t in the middle of this, I can tell you she sure wouldn’t be having a day at the beach.”

  “Oh, Ali, let it go, huh? Look, her birthday is coming up, she’s been beating herself up over something she doesn’t understand and that isn’t her fault, and—no, wait a second—she screwed up, and she’s feeling pretty badly about it. I think if you wanted to punish her, you’re doing fine. Just relax, huh?”

  I laughed, I couldn’t help it. She looked so earnest.

  “All right, well, if you won’t do it for her, then could you do it for me?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Ali, I’m only here for a little while. I want to have some fun with you.”

  “Well, I’m sorry it doesn’t happen to be a fun time in my life right now, Cora.”

  “I know. But, it’s not a fun time in my life right now, either, and it’s definitely not a fun time in Letty’s life. So, since we’re all not having a fun time in life together, couldn’t we just forget about it for a few days? I’ll be gone soon enough, you and Benny will work things out, and you can punish hell out of the girl. Lock her in the basement and feed her scraps. I’ll send manacles.”

  I shook my head at her. “You’re crazy.”

  But I listened.

  And we did have fun. Cora picked Letty up from school and either took her back to her house to swim and do homework, or brought her to the store to work, and I even agreed to another trip to the airfield as a birthday treat.

  But the most fun we had was when we walked down to the beach for the sunset each evening. The absence of the things that seemed to take up our time when we were at home—bills and grocery shopping for me, texting and Internet and television for Letty—turned into freedom to do something we hadn’t done for a long time: We talked.

  I had forgotten, at some point in the past few years, that I could have a fun conversation with my daughter, and she added a new dimension, a valid viewpoint, to the same conversations that Cora and I had been having for almost thirty years. I watched her, and listened, and was surprised by the fact that Letty was funny, as clever as Cora, and as thoughtful as Benny.

  On Tuesday Benny called after his appointment with Dr. Weist. I didn’t ask for a blow-by-blow account, though I was intensely curious. I thought he should have some sense of doing this as much for himself as for me and Letty, and respecting his privacy felt like an important part of that.

  “What about Letty’s birthday?” he asked.

  “I thought we’d go out to dinner. Letty wants Emily to go, of course, and then I’ll take the girls to the mall. I picked up a gift certificate for her from both of us.”

  “Thanks, I wasn’t sure what to do. What about dinner?”

  “We’d like you to come.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. All right, that’s great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Benny.”

  I h
ad a date with my husband.

  LETTY

  Seth had been staying at the abandoned house in her neighborhood ever since the week after the party. The cops had towed his car because the tags were out of date, and even if he had the money to get it, he didn’t think they’d let him take it, since he wasn’t sixteen yet and didn’t have insurance, so Scott was picking him up in the mornings.

  They’d all skipped out at lunch a couple of times to go over to the house, but Scott never left her and Seth alone, so they didn’t get to talk much.

  Seth showed them how he slid a pane of glass out of the jalousie door in the carport. Then all he had to do was slip his hand in to unlock the door. He was showering in the mornings in the locker room at school when the swim team went in.

  She didn’t know what to do to help him, and she didn’t even know why he couldn’t go home. Whenever she started to ask him about it, he just got mad. Not at her, but just in general, and so she left him alone, and they mostly saw each other in the lunchroom and in the hall between classes.

  At lunch on Tuesday she left the table when Seth went to get a soda and found Emily on the other side of the lunchroom, sitting with a couple of kids they’d gone to middle school with. Hardly anyone said hello to her, and even Emily looked like she didn’t really want to talk. She sat down anyway.

  “Are you still going to dinner with us tomorrow?”

  Emily shrugged. “Why don’t you take Seth?” she asked, looking at her like she was challenging her or something. Everyone at the table was staring at them.

  “Come on, Em,” she said, talking real soft so not everyone in the place could hear. “We always have our birthdays together.”

  Emily looked down at her plate.

  “Fine,” she said.

  “We’ll pick you up at six?”

  “Yeah, okay. I didn’t get you anything.” She looked back up at her, like she was mad again all of a sudden.

  “That’s okay,” Letty said. “Mom is giving me a gift certificate for the mall, so maybe we can go after. I’ll share it with you.”

  Emily didn’t say anything for a second, like she was thinking about it. “Okay,” she finally said, and then she looked up over Letty’s shoulder.