Family Pieces

by Misa Rush

  “I’m so sorry, Mom!” she wailed. “I’m sorry for not listening to you when I was a teenager. I’m sorry for all the times I intentionally disobeyed your wishes. I’m sorry for not eating my vegetables and for telling you that you were an awful cook when you weren’t. I’m sorry I pushed you away like all teenagers do. I’m sorry I pushed your buttons to make you mad just because I knew I could. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you more. I need you, Mom. Why, God? Why now? Oh, God I need my Mom!”

  Her impromptu outpouring of emotion was unintentional. She had tried to be strong, but how could she face going back to school knowing her life would never be the same?

  She didn’t know when but Brad’s arms had cradled around her. They huddled inside the closet and he rocked her gently, soothing her until her sobs eased into sniffles. She had cried before, but this meltdown took Brad by surprise. He hated seeing her hurt.

  “Shush, K.” He held her.

  “I need her, Brad. I still need her here.”

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t tell her I loved her. The last time I saw her, I didn’t tell her.”

  “Mom knew you loved her. Here,” he said reaching into his pant’s pocket. His fist transferred the contents into her hand.

  Karsen’s eyes strained to focus on the necklace with its delicate charm now lying in her hand.

  “Mom’s?”

  “Uh huh. I took it off her before they closed the casket. She’d have wanted you to have it, K.”

  Her eyes blurred with tears once more. “Does Dad know?”

  “Yes, I told him.”

  “Was he pissed?”

  “Let’s just say he wasn’t happy, but he’ll get over it. Like I said, Mom would’ve wanted you to have it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, as he helped her stand and walk over to the bed.

  “Yeah.” At least momentarily, she did feel a little better after her cathartic episode. Karsen wiped her tears and blotted her nose with the back of her hand as Brad kissed her tenderly on the forehead before returning to the living room.

  Clenching the necklace in her hand, Karsen’s eyes focused on her mother’s brown, oak dresser. The dresser had been part of the family as long as she could remember, with a traditional look that remained timeless.

  Karsen opened the top-middle drawer, the one her mom kept her jewelry in. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the reason for her search - two familiar charms – puzzle pieces like the one she wore around her neck and the one she still held in the palm of her hand. An upside down wallet-sized photo had gotten wedged into the corner of the drawer. Karsen slid the picture out of the crevice it was lodged in and turned it over. She couldn’t place the photo, but recognized it as a baby girl; it looked old and she wondered if it was her mother.

  Placing her mother’s necklace on top of the dresser, she removed her grandparents’ charms and laid them alongside it. She grabbed her dad’s off the top corner of the mirror where it hung, then instinctively reached behind her neck, grasping the small latch of her own necklace. A strand of her hair intertwined around the clasp and pulled as she removed the chain. She unwound the dark Karo-colored thread and flicked it aside.

  “Hey, Brad. Bring me your keychain,” she yelled, anxious now to complete the puzzle.

  “In a minute,” he yelled back.

  “Never mind. I’ll get it myself.” She had no patience to wait for him and, her mood brightening, jogged to the kitchen to retrieve her brother’s keys.

  Back in her mother’s room, she laid the pieces in a row – first Grandpa’s, then Grandma’s, her mom’s, Dad’s, then Brad’s and finally her own. Her eyes starred blankly as her fingers adjusted the pieces. Something wasn’t right. Huh? She thought quizzically. She bit at her fingernail. That’s odd.

  “Hey, Brad. Come here,” she yelled again.

  “I told you I would bring it in a minute. Hold your horses.”

  “No, come here. It’s missing.”

  “What’s missing?”

  “A piece.”

  “A piece of what?”

  “There’s a piece missing. It doesn’t fit,” Karsen said with some irritation. “Just come here!”

  Brad sauntered back to his parents’ room. “What?” He sounded exasperated at the interruption.

  “Look. Mom’s charm and Dad’s charm. I tried to put them together, but they don’t link. They’re all supposed to fit together. That’s why we have them.”

  “Are you sure that’s Dad’s piece?”

  “Of course I’m sure. It was right here where he always leaves it.”

  “Huh.” Brad wasn’t sure what to think.

  “What does this mean?”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, Karsen.” He shrugged it off. “They’re just charms. The pieces were symbolic - a simple, silly tradition.”

  “You don’t think it’s anything then?”

  “Nah, maybe they never did really link.”

  “Well, I still find it peculiar that every piece fits except these two.” She pushed the pieces closer together with her index finger.

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. What, I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  Brad didn’t admit it, but the goose bumps on his arms validated that his sister just might be right. He moved the pieces together with his finger. There was a piece missing. The lingering question was why?

  5

  Even bundled in her favorite DKNY pea coat, Addison still felt chilled from standing in the cold earlier without a jacket. She had headed straight to her lunch appointment as soon as David had wrapped up. Especially today, the thought of her next meeting brought a smile to her face. Flakes of snow had dotted her coat’s dark navy wool while she waited in front of the bistro for her friend Emily and her daughter, Adelaide. Friday lunch dates had become an almost guaranteed tradition since the day her goddaughter was born. Her eyes smiled as her arms flew open wide in welcome as they approached.

  “I LOVE the shoes, Adelaide. They’re fabulous!”

  “Tank ou,” sing-songed the two-foot-tall munchkin. Her pigtails, neatly accented with glittery star barrettes, swung as she looked down to admire the white dress shoes adorned with rhinestone butterflies on her feet. Addison knelt down to her level. “You think I could borrow them?”

  “No. Yur too big!” Adelaide said and added, “They’re my shoes!”

  Addison chuckled and kissed the top of Adelaide’s head as she straightened up again.

  “She gets more adorable every time I see her,” she said to Emily as she kissed the side of her friend’s cheek. “She’s growing up so fast!”

  “With your influence, Addy, she’ll be wearing high heels and power suits before she’s ten,” Emily shook her head in mocked disbelief.

  “At least she’ll look great conquering the world, except you’re going to have to teach her about not wearing white after Labor Day.”

  “Very funny, Addy. I’m sure you’ll teach her that. You’ll probably have her editing your magazine with her crayons by the time she can read.”

  “What’s wrong with that, Emily? You want her to be a strong, independent woman, don’t you?”

  “Of course. Just like you. Addy and Adie. I can see it now. Just make sure you don’t forget about little ole me.”

  “Never.” Addison winked at Adelaide who was turning in circles to entertain herself. “At any rate, let’s get inside. It’s freezing out here.”

  Addison opened the door, unwound the cashmere scarf from her neck and motioned the hostess that there would be two for lunch. “Oh, and a highchair please,” she added, pointing to Adelaide.

  “Right this way.” The hostess grabbed two menus from a dark wood stand behind which water trickled over a cascade of stacked stone. She guided them through a maze of tables to a corner booth nestled in the back.

  “Guess they didn’t hear you say ‘Nobody puts Baby in a corner,’” Addison joked.


  “Apparently, you’re showing your age with that movie line,” Emily grinned.

  “You got the joke, so I guess that means you’re old, too.”

  “Old!” Adelaide repeated.

  “Hey! Who are you calling old, little one?” Addison tickled Adelaide under her arm. Adie giggled and repeated the word “Old!” Addison wrinkled her forehead and pursed her lips in an exaggerated pout as Adelaide continued to laugh.

  The restaurant bustled with activity. The man and woman at the table adjacent to theirs appeared to be bickering. Married couple, Addison thought. She noticed an elderly couple in another booth. They were saying little but appeared to be enjoying their time together. They ate slowly and meticulously. Addison wondered how long they’d been together. She, at the ripe old age of thirty-nine, had never married. Not that she hadn’t had relationships that could have easily led down that path. “Two paths diverged in a yellow wood,” Robert Frost once wrote. Addison chose the path allowing her to keep her emotions unexposed. She’d been burned one too many times. That and no man stood a chance against her work.

  “How’s your mom doing?” Emily inquired while fumbling to find the safety belt on the high chair. She peered under the chair then glanced back at Addison, clearly frustrated. “This thing is crap. Apparently, they don’t expect many two-year olds at their posh café.”

  “Beyond McDonalds - A look into one woman’s impossible journey to find toddler-friendly and wildly upscale dining.” Addison’s hands flared emphasizing the headline.

  “Are you always on?”

  “Sorry.” Addison was always on though. She had practically grown up at Urbane magazine. Her mind was a constant machine, churning out ideas to keep her ahead of the competition.

  “So, back to your mom. How’s she doing?” Emily gave up buckling the belt and set a pile of fruit snacks in front of Adie to occupy her.

  “Initially good. The doctors are optimistic.” Addison paused. “She’s scheduled for surgery next week and chemo will follow, depending on the results.”

  “And how are you holding up?” Emily grimaced over the kid’s menu, noting the grilled cheese sandwich was made with Brie.

  “You know me. I’m a rock.”

  “Come on, Addison. It’s your mother, for heaven’s sake. You’re allowed to show some emotion once in awhile.”

  “Funny. Ha. Ha,” Addison said mockingly. “It’s not that I don’t care, of course I do. I just don’t think worrying does any good.”

  Emily looked up from the menu. “Addy, it’s just Adelaide and me here and Adie doesn’t care how strong you are. Trust me, she cries all the time.”

  “I’m fine, Emily.” She closed her menu and crossed her arms.

  Emily huffed and shook her head. “You internalize your feelings too much. It’s not healthy, Addison.”

  “Maybe so, but are you my shrink now, too?” Addison asked in a cutting tone. She wasn’t sure why, but Emily’s persistence was striking a nerve. Addison knew she had a knack for blocking her feelings to where she felt completely emotionless. That’s how she’d learned to deal with numerous life situations. But to intentionally block her emotions over her own mother’s illness made even Addison question how detached she could really be.

  “Good afternoon, ladies.” A perky blond dressed in a white, button-down shirt and black dress pants disrupted their conversation. A single strand of pearls around her neck added a classy touch to the simplistic outfit. Had it not been for the white apron tied at her waist, she would have blended in with the rest of the executives out to lunch. “To let you know, today’s special is a seared Ahi tuna, laid on a bed of mixed greens with pomegranate vinaigrette dressing and jicama spears.”

  “Great, thanks.” Emily wrinkled her nose at Addison.

  The server retreated with a simple, “I’ll give you a few more minutes.”

  Emily couldn’t contain herself. “Seriously, whatever happened to a tuna salad sandwich on rye?”

  “Give it a try, Ems.”

  “Sorry. I used to love new places. It’s just frustrating with Adie. There is nothing here she’ll eat.”

  “I understand. If you don’t like it, we’ll go back to Carnegie Deli next week. The reviews here were great. They say it’s the best new bistro in New York City. I just thought it would be worth checking out at least once.”

  The server returned and took their order, freeing Emily to steer the conversation back to Addison’s mom.

  “So, are you going to get a mammogram?”

  “Hadn’t thought about it, why?”

  “Because it’s hereditary. You’re at a higher risk for breast cancer if it has been found in your family.”

  “No, I think I’ll be fine.” Addison stirred a packet of sugar into her passion-flavored tea and then took a sip to test whether one was enough.

  “Addy, you’re my friend. You need to take this seriously. You are not invincible. You might think you are, but you’re not.”

  Addison exhaled, trying to suppress the wave of irritation rising within her. She did not want to discuss this. After a short silence, she finally responded, sounding as if she were presiding over a boardroom rather than speaking to her closest friend.

  “I understand your reasoning, Ems; I do. But my mother’s illness won’t be indicative of my own future. You have nothing to worry about. I promise.”

  The server returned and set down each of their entrees. Emily instinctively swiped hers away from the tiny little hand reaching for her hot plate. She shot the server a callous glare as if to ask whether she had ever served a table with a toddler before.

  “Anything else?” the server asked politely.

  “We’re fine,” Addison answered before Emily could wage a full-scale war against the bistro.

  Emily doled out a smug smile.

  “The waitress can’t help the menu, Em.”

  “No, but she can be more careful about the dish of scalding food she just swung over my daughter’s head. Anyway, don’t change the subject. I want to talk about you. I wish you’d reconsider being checked. You’re getting older too, you know.”

  “I understand your concern, but really stop pressing. I’m fine.”

  “I won’t stop. I think it’s important, and I think you’re being unreasonably stubborn. It’s a simple test. What are you afraid of? I’ve done it myself.”

  “I’m not afraid.” Addison looked away.

  “Then why are you so defensive?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then just go get checked, to appease your BFF if for nothing else.” Emily grinned to lighten the tone then took a bite of the grilled Brie sandwich. “Hey, this is not bad.”

  “Ems, really, my mother’s condition has nothing to do with me. Can we just drop it?” Addison’s voice softened in an effort to set Emily’s mind to rest. She speared a bite of spinach from her salad and placed it in her mouth. The conversation hadn’t left her with much of an appetite.

  “No, we can’t.” Emily struggled to understand why this had become an issue. She simply was trying to impress the importance of early detection. She couldn’t fathom her friend not taking what she considered to be reasonable precautionary measures. “Addy. Come on…be reasonable. I’m just worried about you.”

  Before she could finish Addison stood abruptly, her anger taking over. Typically controlled and even-keeled, the rage that rose inside surprised her. She looked down at Emily with an undeserved contempt and blared, “I am being reasonable! She’s not my biological mother, EM-IL-Y. I’m adopted, damn it!”

  Twenty-five years of bottling up her secret poured out in an instant. Her voice bordered between upset and pure resentment. Maybe she needed to finally purge the truth. Maybe Emily had pushed too far. She didn’t really know. Without another word, or an explanation, she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the restaurant.

  Emily’s jaw dropped in shock as she tried to digest Addison’s outburst. Adopted? They’d been friends for years, decades actually,
and Addison had never said anything about it before, or gave any inkling that her parents weren’t her biological mother and father. Emily sat back against the booth and slid down, noticing the multitude of eyes now directed at her. She furrowed her brow in disgust and the snooping onlookers quickly returned to their own conversations as Adelaide began to cry.

  6

  Back at the office, Addison again pressed the all-page button on her desk phone. “Jacob! My office, now!”

  Three lines rang simultaneously. “Is anyone working today?” Addison’s voice blared over the loud speaker. “We are a people business; we talk to people, not machines!” One of her many pet peeves was the phone going to voice mail. Still aggravated from her meltdown at lunch, she felt like a shaken-up bottle of pop ready to blow. She was typically a fair, level-headed boss, but lately it seemed like every little occurrence unnerved her.

  Jacob scurried through the door. He was dressed flawlessly in a grassy-colored button down shirt that made his jade eyes glimmer. He had a boyish, just out-of-college look with lean muscles and honey-colored hair.

  “What’s the status of next month’s issue? A mock-up should have been on my desk days ago! First Montague’s mishap and now I don’t even know what the next issue will look like? Are we amateurs or what?” Addison demanded.

  Jacob’s voice cracked as he replied, “We’re working on it.”

  “Do you realize it goes to press in three days and I haven’t even seen the initial proof?” She paused as he gazed blankly back at her. “I want it on my desk by five sharp, not a minute later! I can’t afford another mistake.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And it’s Addison, not ‘ma’am.’ What am I, fifty?”

  “Of course not.” Jacob retreated toward the door.

  “Jacob,” Addison said catching him before he left. Knowing another order would follow, he obediently stopped and turned toward her like an enlisted soldier attending an officer.

  “Can you also have Marjorie get me a coffee? A non-fat, decaf, one-pump peppermint mocha, hold the whip… venti, no grande. Ah, hell. Venti – with whip.”