“Mom?” Harley asked, her heart sinking. “I’m not up to it.”
“I think she knows,” Melissa said gently. “She’ll come here and when you are able you’ll see her. What’s going on?”
Harley told her everything, about Tiffany latching on, Jason giving in to the need for her sympathy. Melissa put a cup of tea down in front of her, listening.
“Everyone’s under so much stress, and then I go and put a bunch of expectations on him. Maybe if I wasn’t sick, he’d be having an affair by now.”
“That doesn’t sound like Jason to me,” Melissa said. “Jason’s madly in love with you.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be gone soon. Maybe he’s checking out a little early.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Melissa said vehemently. “Unfortunately life keeps moving forward no matter what stumbling blocks we put in the way. It sounds like he’s getting a few innocent needs met outside of the house. Try to look at it that way.”
“I will not!” Harley said, fuming. “He can wait for a few more months and then I’ll be dead and Jason and Tiffany can dance on my grave.” Melissa put her hand on Harley’s back, soothing her while she vented.
“Try not to say that to Jason, if at all possible,” Melissa said, trying not to chuckle. “I’m sure he’ll feel guilty enough over confiding in the bimbo without you pointing it out to him.”
“I think I just figured out a way to get him to agree to meet the women I’m finding on the dating website. I’ll guilt him into it.”
“Hey, if you think it’ll work, go for it,” Melissa said, frowning. “I don’t know, but it sounds a little weird to me. I could never do it.”
“Finding someone to take my place is better than listening to that jackass Jaclyn repeating Tiffany’s concerns. I know I won’t be around to see it, but the thought of her touching my stuff and trying to influence my girls makes me sick.”
“Easy for me to say, but don’t dwell on what will happen after you’re gone, Harl. You only have so much control in the here and now.” She patted her little sister’s back one more time before sitting down next to her.
“You haven’t asked, but I’ll offer to be involved with the girls as much as Jason will allow,” Melissa said. “I promise you.”
“Thank you, Melissa. He’ll allow, trust me. The last thing he’s going to want to do is take four girls school clothes shopping. I don’t know why I’m focusing on clothes. Clothes and health.”
“I’ll be here if they need me,” Melissa said, her words comforting Harley.
The sisters chatted for a while longer. “I want to leave before Mom gets here,” Harley said. “I’m sorry, that sounds so uncaring. I just can’t face her or anyone else right now. Let me resolve this issue with Jason after work and then we can get together.”
“Okay, she’ll be here all weekend and you’ll have plenty of time to visit.”
Harley hugged her goodbye and left without checking in on the boys. One of her sorrows was that she wasn’t going to know Melissa’s children. Aunt Harley would be a ghost to Peyton and Greg. She didn’t have much energy for little boys, but when they were close by, she took the time to get down on the floor and stack blocks or run trains around a track, anything to engage them, doing it more out of appeasing her own sadness.
Going through the motions of buckling her seatbelt, adjusting the rearview mirror, starting the car, familiar, automatic but important, she thought of how careful she’d been most of her life to follow the rules. Her mother used to say raising Harley gave her a new respect for bending the rules because Harley never would. Everything done correctly, striving for perfection. It drove those around her crazy and for what purpose?
The sight of her house still brought her pleasure; the grey-taupe brick and stone reaching up to a peaked roof with several gables, the stamped concrete driveway she and Jason just had to have cost more than her sister’s row house in Northeast Philly. The faux barn-door garage doors that didn’t fool anyone, all trappings of a life they’d sacrificed for were now meaningless. If she could start all over again, would she be satisfied with a trailer parked in the woods somewhere, or a duplex in Pottstown? Why the need to impress? Were her girls happier here in the nice house than they would be somewhere else, modest and sensible?
“Oh well, it’s too late!” she said, gathering her items to go inside. Good intentions aside, she suddenly was overcome with tiredness, and sadness. Checking her watch, it was almost one. The girls wouldn’t be home for two hours. She’d just lay down for a short nap and then have the energy to deal with Jason when he got home, and her mother later on.
Out of control, Jason acted from guilt when he slammed Harley’s car door returning to work without saying goodbye to her. Every move he made was calculated and at that moment, he lost it and gave in to fury. Didn’t she know how much he was doing to try to protect her? Accusing him of betraying her with Tiffany was so unfair. He didn’t think of Tiffany in those terms, didn’t desire her. But Tiffany did put a lot of energy into a relationship with Jason and at that time in his life, it helped to balance what was going on at home. They were like rats on a running wheel. He hated thinking of his marriage or life with Harley as a grind, knowing that if and when she died, he was going to suffer big time guilt over the way he had withdrawn.
When he got home from work, convincing Harley nothing was going on between him and Tiffany was his motive for the evening, and Harley didn’t have the energy to fight him about it.
“Harley, I might have said something stupid in passing, ‘My wife’s worried about what will happen to her girls,’ or something like that. I swear, I didn’t have a lengthy discussion with Tiffany or anyone else about you. Ask Andy, or ask Joan. She’s in the room with Tiffany often enough.”
But Harley wouldn’t ask her friends if they’d heard her husband talking to Tiffany. She met her friends from work for drinks that week and no one had said a word to her about Tiffany or Jason. Wondering what her marriage would be like if she hadn’t gotten sick, Harley supposed she would be learning to try to just let it go. Either that or they’d be fighting constantly. Not able to read Jason’s mind, it made her sad that there was a chasm growing between them and nothing she could do about it.
So after he left to run errands the next morning with things between them still unresolved, she threw herself into mothering and matchmaking. It took the edge off her sadness about Jason’s selfishness, praying he’d snap out of it before it was too late. She kept thinking how much it would please Tiffany to know how one of the last Friday nights of Harley’s life was ruined because of her.
Chapter 14
The school bus was either overheated or freezing cold. Tina Jones was prepared with a dowel in her backpack. At the back of the bus, she could stand on the seat to reach the heat vent, flipping the lever to change the amount of heat coming out.
“Jones, cut us a break, will you please? It’s freezing up here,” someone shouted.
“Tina Jones if you touch that heat vent again I’m reporting you to the principal’s office,” the bus driver yelled. A group of students circled around to hide her as she crawled up the seat to adjust the vent out of view of the driver. Immediate sighs of relief resonated when the heat started to circulate in the back.
Sitting in the corner with her backpack on her lap, she gazed out the window, watching the groups of students waiting on the sidewalk until the bus stopped, the cold air blasting in as they embarked. The sun was just starting to come up, a rim of yellow light on the horizon under gray-blue skies.
The smell of apple pie baking filled the house that early morning. Thanksgiving was the following day. “Don’t forget that we’re leaving for the shore tonight as soon as Daddy gets home from work,” Harley reminded the girls as they filed out of the house. Tina couldn’t wait to have Thanksgiving at the shore. Granny Fran would set up a long table, stretching from the dining room into the living room of the cottage. Harley’s mother, Maryanne and sisters would be there wi
th husbands and Aunt Melissa’s two children.
On the ride to school, Tina stayed in what she acknowledged was a neutral mode; not at home where pain and sadness permeated every room, or at school, where concerns over GPA and keeping her First Chair in the orchestra consumed her.
But most worries were inconsequential compared to the absolute terror she felt imagining what her life would be without Harley. Her sisters whispered at night about it, someone often crying, sniffing and nose blowing the giveaway, but Tina couldn’t join in. Evidence of the future lurked on her mother’s body. Becoming an expert at evading Harley’s chest, her mother didn’t suspect the dread that going without her bra and rubbery prosthesis caused Tina. Harley was tiny, but the flattened area on her clothing where her right breast used to be was so obvious it was almost intentional. Tina knew she was being ridiculous while the others joked about it, spurred on by Harley’s own irreverent comments.
At night while she blocked out her sister’s voices, she remembered summers at the shore when the girls would pile into the bathhouse with their mother. No one seemed uncomfortable with the nudity, but Tina took note of her mother’s body. The aunts and Granny Maryanne said Tina looked just like Harley did as a young girl. Peeking at Harley, Tina was pleased that she might look like that someday. Examining her own body in the mirror, she could see similarities. When Harley was pregnant with Devon, the girls were amazed at her growing belly that shifted and rolled with the baby’s movements. Stuffing a pillow under her pajama top, the others thought Tina was cute pretending to be pregnant.
Now, with the reality of cancer, Tina’s fears included the possibility that she’d get breast cancer, too. Her hands crept up her midsection to her breasts regularly where she felt for lumps. Staring in the mirror for any of the signs listed in magazines and online, Tina became obsessed with her breasts and with living a healthy life. Anything that could remotely be associated with breast cancer was eliminated, from soda pop to high fat foods to her beloved Wawa cappuccino. Dairy products were too high in fat; another possible cause was a high fat diet.
“I’m going to start eating vegan,” Tina told Harley one morning at breakfast. Poised with a pan of oatmeal ready to serve Harley looked from the pan to Tina.
“Okay, but oatmeal is safe, isn’t it?”
“Right, but no more milk,” Tina said.
“What about pizza?” Harley asked, concerned. Pizza was a weekend mainstay.
“They make it without cheese,” Tina said. “Just sauce and vegetables.”
“How will you get your calcium and protein?” Harley asked.
“From lots of beans,” Tina said. “Don’t worry, Mom.”
The last seconds as the bus approached school were the final moments of peace Tina would have that day until the ride home. The stress started as she walked to her locker and her almost boyfriend, Albie Schmidt joined her.
“Hey girl, why didn’t you answer my text messages last night?”
“My phone must be on the fritz,” she said, handing it off to him. “See if there are any text messages from anyone for the last week.” He took it and thumbed through her settings.
“You’ve got everything shut off, Tina.” He pressed some keys and the tone rang out as it received multiple messages.
“Oh, thanks,” she said, taking it back.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, sincerely concerned. She’d been distracted more than usual lately and he was trying not to take it personally.
“No, actually it’s not okay. Evidently, my mother is dying and they’ve decided not to tell us.”
“Oh, that sucks,” Albie said, taking her hand. “I’m here for you, kid.” They had to get to homeroom in sixty seconds, not enough time to ask her more questions.
“I just want to get through the day without messing up,” she said, distraught.
“Hang in there. Take it moment by moment.”
Tina looked up at him. Moment by moment. That would be easier than day-by-day. “Okay, I’ll try moment by moment,” she replied. “I like that idea.”
Squeezing his hand, she turned to her homeroom and waved goodbye. “See you at lunch maybe?”
He nodded, waiting for her to disappear into the classroom. Two years older than Tina, Albie was graduating with her sister, Angie in June. He was in love with Tina. Walking away from her classroom, leaving her was difficult. The ideal situation would be to grab her hand and run for the parking lot, get into his car and drive to the Penrose Diner, sit there and drink coffee, eat omelets and pancakes, solve the problems of the world.
Disappointed, he’d be stuck in school all day because Tina wouldn’t skip school if her life depended on it and he didn’t want to leave her there alone. He walked off to his own homeroom class, trying to think of something they could do that might help her feel better about her life.
First period gym class, avoided like the plague by most teenaged girls, was Angie Jones favorite. Running for the volleyball, she was already sweating, the little makeup she used washed away, her hair turning into an impossible bouquet of curls, the ponytail whipping around her head. Angie looked just like Jason; tall, willowy, curly black hair, pale ivory complexion. One stray curl worked its way out of the ponytail holder and hung down her forehead. Gigantic blue eyes rimmed with black lashes, hidden by dark circles of despair.
“She’d be so beautiful if she wasn’t trying so hard to be as ugly as possible,” a classmate whispered.
“You’re just jealous.”
“You have to admit she’s been looking pretty raggedy lately.”
“I hear her mother is dying. I’m sure I’d look like hell, too if I was in her position.”
Angie knew she was walking a fine line between obsessively working herself into a frenzy at school, and neglecting herself to the point of slovenliness. The night before, her mother hinted that she could use the bathroom in the master suite instead of waiting for the others to finish was an indication that it was becoming obvious.
“I can wait,” she said. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not going to stop bathing.” She didn’t add, because I’m in a funk. It appeared to Harley that she already had, but biting her tongue, said nothing.
Running back and forth across the court, Angie focused on the ball, forcing thoughts of anything else away. With Bennie at the community college during the day, she didn’t have her to bounce off thoughts. Tina was available in the same school now but she appeared ready to crack, and Angie didn’t want to foist her own misery on her. The family was a mess, yet no one was saying much to anyone else about it. They were becoming masters of mediocrity, focusing on the most mundane subjects.
The topic the night before at dinner was about the best apples to use for apple pie. No one cared, but it was safe, it was even informative, Jason bringing his laptop over to research, and it kept them at the table talking. No one had jumped up from the table to run from the room crying in months. They were numb, trying to protect themselves and each other.
“Jones, throw the ball for god’s sake!” Angie realized she still had the volleyball in between her hands as she was running, so she threw it to the first teammate who appeared to want it, then kept running to the locker room.
Bennie fought to keep her eyes open, the overheated classroom smelling of old paste and sneakers nauseating, the droning monotone of the professor’s voice lulling her into somnolence. Giving up, she let her eyes close and her chin dropped to her chest, her curly red hair falling down around her shoulders like a veil. The worst that could happen would be a public admonishment, but she hardly cared, exhausted from lack of sleep.
Whispered arguing between her mother and father kept her awake until after midnight, more out of curiosity than concern. Over the past two years, eavesdropped conversations were dotted with occasional laughter, more likely something akin to moaning that she finally recognized as her father crying. But last night, anger in her mother’s voice came through the walls, and Bennie surmised that it had to do with another
woman when she heard she, her, and finally, Tiffany repeated numerous times.
At breakfast, Harley appeared to be fine, smiling and cheerful, preparing piecrust, peeling apples in between preparing individual breakfasts like a short order cook, while the sisters came down to the kitchen.
“You okay, Mom?” Bennie asked, longing to hint to her that their nighttime tete-a-tete wasn’t without a witness, hoping it would make them keep it down in the future.
“Just fine, Bennie. How are you?” Harley leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. But Bennie wouldn’t say anything about it, not wanting to hurt or embarrass her mother.
“I’m okay. What time are we leaving for Sea Isle?” she asked, the Jersey shore the bright spot in a sea of shit the family waded through yet again.
“As soon as Daddy gets home from work,” Harley said. “I thought about us girls going ahead of him but maybe not.” She didn’t continue with an explanation why they were going to wait, but Bennie got it. They should be a family for as long as possible.
“Okay, I’ll be home by one,” Bennie said.
Now, agonizingly trying to stay awake for a most boring lecture, she decided to skip the rest of her classes for the morning. A chance to bake Thanksgiving pies with her mother one last time seemed far more important than the History of Western Civilization. Turning the heat on in the car, she called Harley to let her know she was on her way home.
“I’m cutting classes, Mom,” she said. “I feel like baking pies with you.” Harley only hesitated a second.
“Okay, Bennie,” Harley said, her voice thick with emotion. “I was hoping you’d come home early.”
Putting the car in reverse, she carefully maneuvered through the jam-packed parking lot. An occasional tear leaked out of her right eye, only the right, and journeyed down her cheek. Pulling out onto Delaware Avenue, she just happened to look up in time to see a familiar face; it was Angie in line to get on the bus. Laying on the horn, she drove as fast as possible to get there before she stepped on the bus. Hearing the horn, Angie looked up to see what the racket was all about. In spite of feeling awful, seeing Bennie, that bushel of red hair, Angie smiled. Stepping out of line on the bus, she ran to the car and threw the door open.
A Touch of Passion (boxed set romance bundle) Page 98