At Last

by Aliyat Lecky

  Sydney snatched her hands to her sides with such force, Helen understood immediately she had gone one-step too far as Sydney yanked away, severing their connection and rose to full height.

  “Is that what this is about? Is that why you’ve been so crazy lately? You regret giving so much to Dad, David, and me?” Sydney’s face contorted between hysterical laughter and incredulous disbelief, finally hardening to utter condemnation. She stepped forward, her eyes leveled with Helen’s. “I am not you. You have been driving my poor father crazy with this madness. I would not do that to my family.”

  “Madness?” Helen’s voice cracked. She had no idea Sydney would react this way. Be angry, sure, but this was far worse. She glanced to the door, certain Sydney’s sudden railing had reached the ears of the others on the other side of the door.

  “Yes, madness. What are you going through? You’re having a midlife crisis, and you expect me to take you seriously? How dare you! You’re in absolutely no position to give me advice. I suggest you spend your time talking to your husband, my father, about what’s going on in your head.” She started for the door, then turned back to face Helen. “Christ, Mom, I told you I was planning to have a baby. Did you even hear that?”

  “Sydney, I just…” She stood slowly and eased toward Sydney.

  “No, Mom. I can’t believe you. Dad’s worried. I, we, don’t know what’s going on.”

  Helen watched the tears course down Sydney’s cheek. She had only meant to convey to her daughter a lesson she didn’t wish her to learn the hard way. An easy choice would have been to let Sydney turn the knob and exit through the door. It wasn’t Helen’s goal to do what was easy.

  “Sydney, reconsider,” was all Helen could manage.

  “Reconsider? Reconsider what? Reconsider having a baby? For what? For you? Are you serious?”

  “Sydney, hear me out, please.” Helen held her hand out in peace. More than anything, she wanted peace, inner peace, and peace for her family, peace for Sydney. Peace. “Have you asked yourself why you are planning to have this baby?”

  Sydney stared blankly at her mother, as if she hadn’t understood the question. Helen saw an in and forged forward. “You have to think about where you want to be.”

  “Be? I want to be a mom. I love being a mother.”

  “Where you want to be. You want to be. Honey, you were just talking about going back to school.”

  “So? God, you already said that.”

  “Think of your life in thirty years. Will you be fulfilled? Will you be happy if you push back your personal plans?”

  “Happy? Mom, I am happy.”

  “You are now, but will you be when the girls, and if you have this baby, are grown, and—”

  “Are you nuts?” Sydney cut her off. Her outrage could not be managed.

  “If…” Helen continued as if Sydney had not interrupted. “If you get pregnant, your plans to go back to school and work will be pushed back at least five years. You know Sidney won’t want you to go back too soon. For crying out loud, think about your own future. Your future, not the kids’, not Sidney’s. Where do you want to be?” There, she had said it, finally. “Think of yourself.”

  Helen wanted to say more. She wanted to say, “Run like hell before you get sucked into this ideal life you’ve created for yourself that does not exist.” She wanted to yell, “Run before you forfeit an aspect of self, or trade in part of who you are that you can never recover.” More than anything, Helen wanted to scream, “Don’t be like me!”

  Instead, Helen looked into the fury impeding her daughter’s ability to receive her message. Helen had abandoned an integral part of her person to have a life she knew she couldn’t otherwise have achieved. She had traded off pieces of herself. In the moment it took for Sydney’s expression to change, Helen’s life had passed before her, and she saw the debris of her past, which lay bare for all to see, thrown about, and devalued as a child’s worn or unwanted plaything. Helen had surrendered true desire and sexual satisfaction for the American Dream. Such would not be Sydney’s lot, but Helen was sure that in the end, her daughter’s regret would be no less.

  “Is that what this is about? Are you kidding me? You want me to change my mind about having a baby with my husband because you are experiencing some foolish empty nest crisis? Because your baby is leaving, and you don’t know what to do with yourself?” Sydney had completely missed the point. She only heard what she wanted, and reinforced what she believed to be true.

  Helen stood wondering if she had made a huge mistake, and if she had only made matters worse.

  Sydney continued. “I cannot believe how selfish you are. I am happy, are you?” She turned to leave. Before she reached the door, she faced Helen one last time. Her face softened a little. “Mom, I think you need to stay out of my life and focus on your own.”

  Helen heard every word Sydney said. She internalized every concern. Yet Sydney had not heard her at all.

  “Mom, talk to Dad.” With that, she was gone from the room.

  Helen decided not to follow her out to meet the anxious faces she was certain would greet her wide-eyed outside the door. Of course, they heard most of the conversation. No, Helen would not face the others. Not because she was afraid to face them, rather because it was easier for them that she did not. Besides, Angie, the only one she cared to speak to, was departing. She distinctly heard the rapid shuffling of feet during Sydney’s tirade. That would have been Angie, Orlando, and Cynthia getting the hell out of Dodge, as Angie liked to describe leaving a tense situation. Helen was sure that they couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

  Helen flopped into Richard’s overstuffed leather chair. She hoped Sydney would leave without discussing their disastrous conversation any further with Richard. She didn’t have the spirit for another go if Richard were to become involved. Helen hadn’t meant for the evening to end as it had, but Sydney’s announcement had forced her into action. Helen had become a lioness protecting her pride. She had pounced on Sydney for her own sake. She spoke from experience. For years, she herself had grown too lean, feeding the pride first, taking too little for herself. Now she looked fully, completely, at her own reflection, and recognized the results of what self-sacrifice had done to her. Helen had made the mistake of confusing an ideal for reality, and she believed Sydney was in danger of doing the same.

  TEN

  AFTER NEARLY AN hour of soaking, Helen stepped out of the full tub and the warmth the water provided. She had been in need of a long soak after her argument with Sydney. The evening was ruined and could not get any worse so she may as well go for broke. She had been putting off the call she needed to make to her parents for some time. Helen now felt that it was imperative that she speak to them. She needed to clear the air.

  She was feeling trapped by her past, and needed answers. Lately, long-ago-abandoned memories from her childhood and young adulthood began to sneak up on her surreptitiously, entwining their long, curly tendrils up her legs, taking root with such tenacity that she could not shake free from them any longer. They lay their strong, tenuous arms about her so tightly, that she was forced to acknowledge their encroachment on her present life, and examine the meaning in the context of what she was so presently entangled, but had so many previous years discounted. Helen was festooned in remnants of the past to such a degree, that she could no longer avoid its reckoning. The creepers wrapped themselves around her until her present was so encumbered by the past, that she hardly recognized what she had become. The time of reckoning had arrived.

  Helen dialed the number she had been avoiding for weeks. She dabbed at the suds that dripped from her torso before replacing the towel around her cooling skin. She scratched gently at the anxiety that slid down her arm. “Come on, damn it.” Her odd prayer was immediately answered. The click of the live line at the other end weakened her knees, so that she was forced to lower herself slowly on the bed. She spoke before her mother, Helena, had a chance.

  “Mother?” />
  “Oh, hello, darling. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Have you got a minute? I’d like to talk.”

  “We’re just headed over to Dad’s.”

  “We’re?”

  “May and I, of course. Yes, we. You know she always goes over with me.”

  “To Dad’s?” Helen’s mother and father lived on the same property, but it had been years since they shared the same roof. Her father had taken up residence in the guesthouse, while her mother maintained the main house as her own. “So it will just be the three of you? You, Dad, and May?”

  “And of course Bennie will be there as well. So, four.” Helena paused for a few moments.

  Helen was certain her mother was assessing any data she had collected in the few minutes they had been on the phone together. A tool she had learned as an accomplished dancer. Evaluating nonverbal cues enhanced her ability to be led gracefully, even by the clumsiest of partners. By developing her talent as a dancer, Helena had learned to read people. Doing so even on the phone line was second nature to Helena.

  “Mom?”

  Helena did not answer immediately. “Yes, dear?” Then she asked in a voice, which suggested she did not really want to answer. “What’s going on, Helen?”

  “Mom, the four of you, right? Like always?”

  ***

  HELEN GRABBED HOLD of the dazzlingly green package. There were much more under the tree to choose from, several larger and more brightly wrapped in fact, but that was the gift that Bennie hinted she should open first. For as long as she could remember, Bennie had always guided her as she waded through the sea of Christmas-wrapped packages each year. That particular Christmas, she appreciated his help all the more. She had turned twelve the spring before, and the brand of presents under the tree had matured as suddenly as she had. Instead of dolls and other toys, the emblems of childhood, each box held tiny hints of adolescence. A new record player, beauty products, designer bellbottom slacks, and other items that might interest a maturing teen were the endowments she received that year.

  Somehow, Bennie was always there Christmas morning to secretly convey to her which package to open next. He guided her through the series of gifts as if there were an order to them. As though her parents had written her an encrypted story—a tale for the coming year. Bennie was happy to interpret it for her as if he himself were the narrator.

  Helen grabbed a red and silver present next, and sneaked a peek past her father over at Bennie. His nod was almost imperceptible. Helen pulled greedily at the shiny ribbon to release the loose knot. She had not bothered to read the card, “From Mother and Father.”

  “Mom, it’s beautiful.” Helen ran over to her mother, who lounged beautifully on the chaise lounge as May, her mother’s new assistant, dashed in quickly to pick up the discarded wrapping. “It’s a silver hand mirror, like yours.” She looked excitedly over her shoulder at her father and Bennie, who shared the same plush sofa. “Is there a brush, too?” She scanned the large mound of presents as she spoke before turning again to look past her father. Bennie winked confirmation before sipping coffee from Helen’s father’s mug, and then handing it to him. Jack did not answer. He liked surprises.

  “Mom, it’s beautiful.” Helen ran over to her mother, who lounged beautifully on the chaise lounge as May, her mother’s new assistant, dashed in quickly to pick up the discarded wrapping. “It’s a silver hand mirror, like yours.” She looked excitedly over her shoulder at her father and Bennie, who shared the same plush sofa. “Is there a brush, too?” She scanned the large mound of presents as she spoke before turning again to look past her father. Bennie winked confirmation before sipping coffee from Helen’s father’s mug, and then handing it to him. Jack did not answer. He liked surprises.

  ***

  “YES, THE FOUR of us. It’s always—”

  “The four of us.” Helen completed her mother’s sentence. Her mother had made that statement so many times before. Helen could feel it coming. “That sounds so…” Helen felt suddenly hollow, as if the startling reality had been poured into her and emptied her of everything else.

  “Yes?” Helena urged her on from nearly two-thousand miles away. “So, what?”

  “Intimate. Intimate, when you say that, the ‘four of us’.”

  “Helen.” Helena’s voice was whispered, barely audible, yet the apology and appeal for forgiveness rang loudly in Helen’s ears.

  “Mother, why is it that when you say, ‘May and I,’ it comes across so differently than when Dad says, ‘Ben and I’?”

  “Helen, what are you going on about?” Helena tried to temper her voice. She made a great attempt to sound as though she were simply inquiring about the weather, but her voice shook as if a great gale was passing through her, shaking her about the rafters.

  ***

  “MOM. DAD.” HELEN held on as tight as she could to both her parents. She had been looking forward to their visit since the second week of school. She had never been away from them for more than a few weeks. Certainly, the Atlantic had never separated them.

  “Maggie, these are my parents, Helena and Jack Dahl. And this is Bennie.” Helen had included Bennie as an afterthought, which was strange, because he was ever-present, and she had always thought of him as family.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Maggie. She’s the friend I told you about. She’s a senior.” Helen added the last part to impress them. Not many freshmen would be introducing seniors to their parents during Thanksgiving break.

  Maggie nodded politely to Jack and Bennie. Helena’s hand she grasped slightly, as if it were porcelain, and would break if too much pressure were applied, and performed an odd combination of a handshake and curtsey. Helen giggled quietly as she watched her best college friend lose all composure for the first time.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dahl.”

  For the rest of the evening, Helen watched with charmed delight as her mother and Maggie dominated most of the conversation, while her father and Bennie sat quietly together in the background, sharing private toasts and knowing glances as they watched Helen fawn over her “dearest friend,” who in turn lavished attention on her beautiful mother.

  ***

  “HELEN, ARE YOU there?” Helena no longer attempted to mask the panic in her voice. “Helen, after all these years…Helen?”

  “Mom, I’ll call you back later.” Helen made an effort to lower the receiver, but she had yet actually to hang up the phone to end the call.

  “She knows.” She heard her mother speaking on the live line. Her mother sounded as if she were standing right next to her. “May, go get Jack and Bennie.”

  Helen couldn’t believe that she had lived all her life with the same parents, but had been so oblivious. She lowered the receiver, considering the words her mother would not have spoken if she had known she remained on the line. Her mother, in her desire to close the line, had mislaid the phone receiver. Helen did not want to hear anymore. “Jack and Bennie.” The innocuous phrase she had heard so many times in her life, had spoken as often as she had heard, transformed into something foreign, and turned her universe on its axis.

  Helen shivered, but not from the chill of cool air replacing the evaporating moisture on her skin. She returned to the bathroom to let out the water from the cold tub. She watched the soapy remains swirl around and dive into the tiny funnel forming over the open drain. How odd, she thought, how there is always something there beyond what is visible. She stared at the miniature vortex until it collapsed on itself, then she fell to her knees, crying into the towel she had stuffed into her mouth to quiet her sobs. “If only they told me, I might have been okay with myself. I might have recognized who I am earlier before all of this.”

  Helen donned pajamas and a robe and exited the bedroom, hoping to escape alone to the dining room and kitchen to survey the post-Thanksgiving mess. She was simply spent. She couldn’t bear another Thanksgiving moment. She headed first toward the kitchen, thinking she would at least start to clean in
the kitchen before she headed to bed. When she reached the kitchen door, she was met with the clinking of dishes and low voices. David, Sydney, and Richard were deeply involved in clearing and conversation. Helen listened just outside the door. Sydney was nearly finished recounting the entire exchange.

  “Dad, you don’t understand. Mom is going through some sort of midlife crisis.” Sydney’s concern for her mother was clearly discernable above the din of the three noisily clearing the kitchen.

  David countered with a snide remark, which Helen had trouble making out, something about, “change of life.”

  “You’re right. Something is going on. I’ll have to speak with her. I was hoping it was just some passing phase she is going through,” Richard said.

  Again, David snuck in another inaudible comment. She didn’t hear what was said, but the sarcastic tone was clear as hell. Richard and Sydney appeared to have ignored him once again.

  “Her book tour is in two weeks. Maybe it’s just what she needs right now,” Richard said.

  “Yes she can clear her head a bit.” Sydney sounded optimistic.

  “You think I should tag along?”

  Helen held her breath.

  “No, let her go by herself.” Sydney’s voice sounded heavy, as though she had put some thought into her answer. “I think she may need some space.”

  Helen exhaled. Her release was so loud, she missed David’s response.

  “What? David, if you’ve something to add, why don’t you?” Helen knew Richard was frustrated he sounded calm. “You’re full of cryptic comments. Why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind after all?”

  “Why don’t you ask Mom if you’re so interested in what’s going on?”