I met the woman who gave birth to me in the food court at a mall about two hours from home. It didn’t go well, and I wished I hadn’t looked her up. She used swear words like I use pronouns. Thank God she didn’t have red hair like me. Her hair was a mousy brown, shoulder length and frizzy. She was so thin she looked like if you sneezed you’d blow her away. She chain-smoked during our hour-long visit and her fingers and teeth were stained from the tobacco. I hate smoke, and when I coughed she continued to blow it in my direction.
I cried the whole way home. Mom was waiting up for me, and I knew she couldn’t wait to hear how it went. I remember looking into Mom’s eyes and telling her that I never wanted to talk about my birth mother again. That she was my mom and no one else. And we hugged a long time, neither one of us wanting to break the embrace.
When I got to the hospital, the emergency room was standing room only. What were all of these people doing in an emergency room at four in the morning? I had to remind myself that I was in New York and not in the small town I grew up in. I searched the crowd but didn’t see Judy.
“Excuse me,” I said to the receptionist. “I’m here to see my mother. She was brought it several hours ago. Her name is Betty McKenzie.”
The nurse checked his computer. “Follow me.”
He pushed a big square metal button on the wall and the wide double doors opened. Nurses and doctors buzzed about with charts and portable monitors. Everyone seemed in a hurry. I followed the nurse down the hall to the last door on the right. He opened the door and I walked in to find Judy and a pastor.
Judy stood up and held out her arms. Her face was blotchy and red.
I ran and hugged her.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I tried to save her. Gave her CPR but it was no use.”
“No,” I shook my head. “She’s not dead. She can’t be gone.”
“It all happened so fast,” Judy continued. “She was fine all day and then when we were getting ready to go out for dinner, she just fell over.”
I couldn’t keep the tears from pouring out of my eyes. Mom was all I had left. We didn’t have a big family. There were no aunts and uncles, on either side and my grandparents were long gone. It was just Mom and me. And now I was alone.
The pastor stood. “I’m Pastor Paul. I’m one of the hospital chaplains.”
He shook my hand. “I’m here if you want to talk.”
“Can I see her? I want to see her,” I said.
The pastor left the room to find someone to help. I sat beside Judy on the vinyl couch. She slipped her arm around me. “We were having such a great time,” said Judy, blowing her nose. “We went to a matinee and shopped. I just can’t believe she’s gone. She loved you, Gina. You were everything to her. She was so happy she was going to be a grandma.”
I looked up at Judy. “She told you about that?”
“She told the entire card club about it. We were supposed to pray for good sperm,” Judy laughed.
I couldn’t keep from laughing either. “That’s my mom.”
The pastor returned with a nurse. I looked at Judy. “Do you want to come?”
Judy started crying hard again. “You go. I’ve already said what I needed to say.”
“Would you like me to come along?” Pastor Paul asked.
I shook my head. “God never seems to listen to my prayers,” I said, and followed the nurse out the door.
I pulled back the white cotton sheet covering Mom and felt her arm. “She’s cold,” I cried. “Can’t we get her some blankets?”
The nurse who had brought me back placed his hand on my shoulder. “Your mother is in a better place now.”
“Screw that,” I said. “I don’t want her in a better place, I want her here. With me. She’s supposed to be here with me.”
I pushed the chair across the room next to the hospital bed. I sank down in the chair and took Mom’s hand in mine. I put my head down on the edge of the mattress and cried. It was so unfair, I thought. Now it was just me. I had never felt more alone in all my life.
I made arrangements to have Mom’s body transferred to the funeral home that we used when my dad died. Mom liked the funeral director there and said more than once that whenever it was her time to go, she wanted Dan to be the one to take care of things.
Judy rode home with me instead of going home on the tour bus. We cried most of the way. She called some of mom’s friends on the way home and I called Sue, getting her out of bed. I also called and left a message at work that I would be out at least a week, maybe longer. Just thinking about everything I had to do made my head spin.
“You know what your mom would say,” Judy said. “Take one step at a time. And the first one is getting through the funeral.”
“I know you’re right, Judy. But there’s just so much to do. And it’s only me.”
“Oh, Gina. You know that I’ll help you in any way I can. Just let me know what you need me to do.”
“I know, Judy. It’s not like I thought you wouldn’t help. But, you know, I don’t have any siblings to share this with. It’s a lot to handle alone.”
“My sweet child,” Judy said. “You’re not alone. You have me. And Sue. You know Sue will help.”
I nodded. “I’m pretty sure Mom had everything written down.”
“Well, I know she wanted a Lutheran church service,” Judy said.
“With Communion,” I added, smiling.
“And I know the hymns she liked,” Judy said.
I patted Judy’s hand. “She showed me once where she kept a list of things she wanted at her funeral. It included hymns and the flowers that she wanted. It’s in her underwear drawer in a manila envelope marked ‘My funeral’ in black marker.”
“That’s your mom. Always prepared. Funny, I was the one with all of the health problems. Never thought she’d be gone before …”
Judy started crying again. “Remember that time she ran out of gas when you were little and the car just plain stopped?”
I laughed. “I remembered. She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the car. Turned out, it just needed gas.”
We laughed.
“Or the time she forgot to put up the garage door and backed into it when she went to pull out?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve never seen Dad so mad. His face turned purple and words came out of his mouth I didn’t even know he knew.”
It felt good to remember and laugh. And cry.
I dropped Judy off at her house and when I finally pulled into Mom’s driveway I felt like I’d been through a war. Sue was waiting for me when I walked into the house. She hugged me so tightly it made me cough.
“I’m so sorry, Gina. I loved your mom. She was one of the loveliest people I know.”
I broke down and Sue walked me into the kitchen. I smelled fresh-brewed coffee and couldn’t help but smile when I noticed my favorite blueberry bagels and a box of Earl Grey on the kitchen table.
“The coffee’s for me,” Sue said. She picked up the box of Earl Grey. “And I stopped and got tea just in case your mom was all out.”
I dabbed my tired eyes with tissues. “You’re an amazing friend. Thanks for coming.”
“Well of course I’d come. I might still be nursing a hangover from last night, but that’s nothing compared to what you’re dealing with.”
I smiled. “That’s right. Last night. You have to tell me all about it. And I want every detail. Don’t let anything out.”
“Later. We’ll talk about that later. Let’s talk about your mom now.”
I poured a cup of hot water from the white Corning ware tea kettle sitting on top of the stove. Holding the kettle with the blue cornflower on the side warmed me in a strange way. I must have boiled hundreds of cups of water using this kettle over the years.
I turned around and pulled out a chair, unwrapping a tea bag and dunking it in my mug. “Did you find the envelope?”
Sue nodded. “It was right where you said it would be -- in her lingerie drawer. I�
��ve already called the minister and he’s getting the word out. He said he will be over later. Oh, and the funeral director called and I told him that we would meet with him tomorrow morning.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Besides, she was like a mom to me, too.”
I hugged Sue tightly. She was an awesome friend, and I was so glad that after all these years, our friendship had remained strong. No matter where our lives had taken us, we were always there for each other.
****
Mike
The light on the answering machine was blinking when Jack and I got home from the baseball game.
I pressed the play button. “Mike, it’s Jeremy. I was just calling to let you know that Gina’s mom died. Sue called this morning and asked me to let you know. Anyway, talk to you later.”
I slapped the desk. “Damn!”
“Is that hot Gina from high school?” asked Jack, taking the lid off the gallon of double chocolate chip ice cream we bought on the way home.
“I never said she was hot,” I corrected him. “I said she was pretty.”
Jack shrugged. “Same difference. Did you see her at your reunion?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions, kiddo.”
“So what’s the answer, Dad? Dance or no dance?”
I cleared my throat. “Yes, I danced with her. All right?”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes, it was fun dancing with her. Now enough with the questions.”
“Mom says that I should be a reporter because I ask so many questions.”
“And she’s right. You’d make a great reporter. You’re nosey enough to be one.”
I told Jack I was going to hit the shower while he finished eating his ice cream. By the rate he was going, that gallon would be polished off by morning. I promised I’d help him study for his spelling test. He hated Mondays as much as I did.
****
I had been thinking about Gina all day. I wasn’t prepared to feel the way she made me feel. It had been so long since we’d been together and our lives were now worlds apart. I went to the reunion hoping that if I saw her, we’d be able to be friends. But dancing with her, smelling that sexy Gina smell, made me want so much more. All of those old desires came rushing back and knocked me over.
I had no idea what Gina wanted to tell me, and just thinking that it was something she’s wanted to tell me for twenty years was driving me crazy. What could be that important? I knew that whatever it was, it made Gina nervous. I could tell by the way her leg shook. It’s her nervous twitch. And, to be honest, I was a bit scared to find out. I figured it had to do with me, otherwise she wouldn’t be telling me it. And it scared me to think of the possibilities.
It’s no secret Gina broke my heart. I was so depressed my first semester in college that I damn near flunked out. I finally came around, but not before doing some major damage to my GPA. I ended up writing a letter to the head of the engineering department begging for a second chance. When he asked me why my grades sucked, I was completely honest with him. I figured I had nothing to lose. That was the day he looked me square in the eyes and told me that he was going to give me a second chance, but that I better hadn’t disappoint him. That if he was going to give me a chance, I had to live up to my end of the bargain. It was either that or find another major.
I stepped it up and recovered – with the help of some great tutors that cost me a bundle. But it was worth every penny.
****
Gina
Sue woke me when Pastor Greg arrived. I had taken a nap after Sue insisted I try to get some sleep. I hadn’t seen Pastor Greg in years, but I never forgot his wilderness sermon. I felt like I was in the wilderness again – although a very different wilderness than the one I fought so many years to make it out of. When I came downstairs, Sue and Pastor Greg were deep in conversation.
Pastor Greg stood when he saw me and held out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Gina. Although I wish it was under other circumstances. I’m so sorry. Your mom was a wonderful woman.”
I nodded and half smiled. “Yes, she was.”
I handed him the envelope. “Mom wrote it all down. She wants a full Lutheran church service and she has a list of hymns she liked the organist to play.”
Pastor Greg opened the envelope and took out the piece of paper. He smiled. “Looks like it’s all here. What about after the service? The ladies in the church can provide a meal. Your mom always helped with the funeral dinners; I know they would like to do this for her.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Just let me know what it cost.”
“Most of it will be donated,” Pastor Greg said. “There will be little cost.”
We talked about Mom for a little bit and after a prayer, Pastor Greg left.
I looked over at Sue, who was knitting. “Do you believe in God?”
Sue put down her needles. “Yeah, don’t you?”
“I guess so. I just don’t understand why bad things happen to good people. Like why little kids who haven’t hurt anyone or done anything wrong get cancer and die.”
“Most people wonder that,” Sue said. “Mom always said that everything happens for a reason, we just don’t always see it right away.”
I bit my bottom lip. I wasn’t going to say it but I couldn’t help myself. “What about me? Why did I get raped?”
“Oh, Gina,” said Sue, putting down her knitting needles and walking over me. “I don’t know why something so terrible happened to you. And I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since you told me. And, I’m still mad that you kept this to yourself all of these years. And as horrible as it was, it is, look what you’ve accomplished with your life? You’ve helped lots of women who were in your situation get justice. Maybe that’s why it happened, as twisted as it sounds. I mean, I’m not sure you would have become a lawyer prosecuting sex crimes if it had not been for your past. I always wondered where your passion for this area of law came from. It’s all so clear to me now. Look how many people you’ve helped. How many bastards you put in jail.”
I started to cry. I couldn’t help it. Mom dying and finally telling Sue about the rape and my decision to tell Mike boiled into a crying mess.
Sue stroked my hair. “Remember, one day at a time.”
“More like one hour at a time,” I said.
“Whatever works,” Sue said. “Reminds me of that one Christmas show we always used to watch. You know the one with the Burgermeister and the Winter Warlock.”
I knew exactly which one she was talking about. It was from “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” We broke out in song, “just put one foot in front of the other. And soon you’ll be walking cross the floor.”
We laughed. Sue always made me laugh. It was one of the things I loved most about her.
****
I stood in front of the red brick funeral home on Main Street, across from the Lutheran church I grew up in. I could feel my entire body tense up, like a twisting rubber band. Let go and I would snap and unravel. I rubbed the muscle in my neck. It felt like a big sailor’s knot.
I didn’t want to meet with the director. I didn’t want to pick out the casket. When Dad died a few years back, I helped Mom with the funeral details. I tried to be strong for Mom, but deep down I hated it. And I knew that I never wanted to pick out a casket ever again. And here I was. Damn, I hated life sometimes.
Sue took my hand. “It’ll be all right. I’m here with you. We can do this together.”
Her words, her friendship turned me into a sobbing mess. Together, we walked through the massive carved oak door with a floral arch.
Mr. Little showed us the caskets. Tears pooled in my eyes. I looked away. “I’m not sure I can do this again.”
“How about this one,” Sue said. “Your mom loved mahogany. Her bedroom set is mahogany. This is beautiful.”
I glanced over at Sue. She was standing next to the casket. It was beautiful. Well, as beautifu
l as a casket can be.
“It has antique hardware,” Mr. Little explained. “And an adjustable bed and mattress.”
Christ, I thought to myself, he’s talking about it like it’s a damn bed. “That one’s good. Can we get out of here?”
I caught the arched-eyebrow look Mr. Little flashed Sue. She nodded to him and we followed him to his office down the hall.
He opened a desk drawer and pulled out about a dozen funeral cards with various designs. He fanned them out on the desk in front of us. I took a deep breath.
Sue immediately pulled one out. “Oh, look, Gina. Your mom loved the Footprints in the Sand poem. This one’s perfect.”
Sue was right. The front had “In loving memory” on top of footprints in the sand. Inside was the poem and space to add the personal details. I nodded and Mr. Little put the others away.
“Is this memorial registry book OK?” He held up a white, hardbound leather book.
“Sure. It’s fine. All of this is just fuckin’ fine.”
I ran out the door, and I heard Sue tell Mr. Little that if he needed to know anything else, he should call her.
I ran out the door and across the street to a small park and sat on a bench. Sue sat down beside me and put her arm around me. “I’m sorry, Gina.”
I couldn’t contain the volcano of tears any longer. They spewed out of me like they had been pent up and bubbling forever. “She won’t be here to see me have my baby. She was supposed to help me. Not leave me. Now I have no one left.”
“You have me,” said Sue, brushing back my hair.
“You know what I mean. You have brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles. It’s always just been me and mom and dad. I feel so all alone.”
“Families aren’t always blood related,” Sue said. “You know that better than anyone. Chloe and I will always be your family.”
Gina & Mike (The Yearbook Series Book 1) Page 12