The Tea Series

by Sheila Horgan

  “Cara, don’t get mad at me, but you’re being unreasonable.”

  “I know. I’m okay with that.”

  “At some point you and Mom are going to have to talk about this. You might as well do it now so that you can hear her side of it.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Teagan. She doesn’t have a side in this. There is no other side. There is only my side. If she has a side, that means she isn’t on my side. I can’t deal with that. I can deal with Arlene, and I can deal with Mrs. MacBranain…”

  “Who the hell is Mrs. MacBranain?”

  “Another one of Bernie’s people. Mom knew her. Called her Violet. Said she was a really nice woman. Not my experience.”

  “What was your experience?”

  “She was crazy. She would hide in that little closet on Bernie’s back porch.”

  “The one with the pointed door?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How did she fit? We barely fit in there to play hide-and-go-seek when we stayed with Bernie when Mom was in the hospital to have Sinead. I think we stayed there when she had Rory too.”

  “Yeah, well, I stayed in that little closet with her for hours. She’d cry and wail and tell me about how gypsies had stolen her brother when she was living in Germany and that they were coming to get us too and we had to stay in the closet and be quiet so they didn’t find me because they liked little girls more than they liked little boys and they never brought her brother back. It was hot and dark, and by the time she was done telling me in great detail exactly what they would do if they found me — the whole time she was being so loud that they were bound to find me if they showed up — I was terrified. Remember when I used to climb in bed with you?”

  “Who could forget? Two girls in a ‘small single’ bed. More narrow than a twin. I have no clue where Mom and Dad even got them, but with all of us jammed in there, it was the only size that fit in that room. And you steal covers.”

  “I used to climb in bed with you because I figured you were so much prettier than me that if they came, they would steal you.”

  “Gee, thanks a lot.”

  “I figured as they took you I’d get help. The plan was never for them to actually get you.”

  “At least you had a plan.”

  “Yeah, I used to sleep with Mom’s big butcher knife between the bed and the wall.”

  “What?”

  “I told you I was scared. I’d try to stay awake all night to guard us.”

  “I’m amazed you never got caught with the knife.”

  “I’m amazed I never cut my hand off.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “These days they’d call it grooming. Back then I was just scared to shit. I thought if I said anything, it would just be worse.”

  “Cara, I’m sorry that you went through all that.”

  “You know what the really strange part is? Bernie didn’t think it was wrong. Not in all these years. Think about it. She left me little mementos from all the crazy people. She thought of them as gifts. She wrapped them up like I should be pleased to have them. Instead, they just bring back complete terror. You know what? When I first opened the trunk, I passed out. Well, pretty much. I went all faint.”

  “Understandable.”

  “I hate that trunk.”

  “Then why is it still here?”

  “What?”

  “Cara, I know you. If you really didn’t want that trunk, it would have been gone two minutes after you made the decision. You don’t procrastinate. You have a lot of vices in life, but that isn’t one of them. If you really thought that these people ruined your life or if you really didn’t want the reminder of those times, you would have gotten rid of the trunk and everything in it.”

  “I haven’t had time.”

  “Bull.”

  “That’s pretty much what I said to Mom that started our whole meltdown.”

  “What?”

  “I said the whole phrase, and Mom told me to watch my language, and I lost it.”

  “Didn’t really have anything to do with the language or Mom correcting you.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. But I was so upset, I missed that.”

  “So you think maybe you want to go back over there and talk to Mom? I’ll go with you. Together we can get her to understand. She loves you, Cara. She would never do anything to hurt you intentionally.”

  “Okay.”

  I called A.J. Thanked him for having Teagan there. Told him I was closer to sane and that I was headed over to my mother’s house to see if we could figure all of this out. He offered to drive me over. I told him that Teagan was going with me. He seemed comfortable with that.

  I hate it when people worry about me.

  It makes me feel weak.

  I know it’s stupid; there’s no need for anyone to remind me.

  We took Teagan’s car, since mine was still parked down at the corner of my parents’ block.

  I parked in front of my parents’ house. On the way over we had decided that we’d collect my car first, because the corner down by the park where it was parked could be a problem. People speed up and then zip around the corner, but there is a jag in the street, and they overcorrect and smack into anyone too close to the end of the street. I wasn’t thinking about that when A.J. picked me up.

  No sense tempting fate. Leaving my car there longer was just asking for trouble.

  Since Teagan had slowed down just long enough for me to jump out of her car, she made it down the block first.

  Teagan didn’t even wait for me on the sidewalk like normal. She zoomed on up to the porch and had already tried the door and rung the bell before I even got there.

  “That’s odd. Mom and Dad’s door was locked.”

  “The car’s here. They must be out in back. Maybe that group of door-to-door soap salespeople was around today. They show up every few weeks ,and Mom always locks the door.”

  My father answered.

  The look on his face devastated me.

  As Teagan took the screen door in hand and started into the house, my father blocked her way.

  I’m certain that is the first time in the history of O’Flynns that the door has been blocked to family.

  “Dad, what’s going on?”

  “I’ve no idea. Your mother will not talk to me. For the first time in our marriage. After your sister here left she became — I’m not even sure of the term — despondent? She is beyond upset. She’ll not speak to anyone.”

  “Daddy, I’ll talk to her.”

  “No, you will not, Cara.”

  “Daddy, I can fix this. I just need to apologize.”

  “Cara, when will you learn? Your mother is a person. Very much like you, I might add. When you slash at her, she bleeds. You have done this before, but never to this extent. I’ll not allow you to do any more harm. You girls are grown, and it is far past time for you to behave that way. If and when your mother is…”

  We heard my mother call from the other room.

  My father literally pushed us out of the way and closed and locked the door.

  It was symbolic since we both have keys, but the message was clear.

  I melted to the ground.

  I couldn’t even cry.

  What had I done?

  If I’d been asked a million times if there was anything I could do in life that would put me in this position, I would have said no. Every time. With confidence.

  And how did we get here?

  I was telling my mom about what happened to me.

  Sure, I got mad and slammed out of the house, but come on now. That is hardly reason for my mother to have a meltdown.

  Teagan leaned against the railing. She, too, was in a state of shock.

  “What the hell just happened?”

  “I think I broke Mom.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Cara.”

  “I’m not being stupid. Have you ever known Mom or Daddy to shut the door in anyone’s face? Literally or fig
uratively? Well, guess what. They just did. I’m responsible for that.”

  “There has to be more to this. Mom and Dad are not going to lock out their kids over you snapping at Mom. We’ve all snapped at each other once in a while. We’re human for God’s sake. Nobody’s perfect. I just don’t understand.”

  “Me either, but if I hadn’t started this whole thing — ”

  “You didn’t start this whole thing. Bernie did. You went to Mom with your problem. That is what Mom would want you to do. Sure, you could have dealt with it more maturely, but, God, Cara, you pretty much act like a middle-aged woman all the freakin’ time. If you can’t have an immature moment every now and then, what’s the point?”

  The door opened, and my father, bless his heart, tried to control his obvious upset.

  “Your mother would like to speak to you both. She is in our room.”

  We never go in my parents’ bedroom. And by never, I mean never. My mother has this theory. With so many kids, if my parents didn’t have a safe zone, they would never have had a moment of peace. They decided when we were all little that the only way you could enter the inner sanctum was if you were sick. If you were sick — really sick — my mom would shove you in bed with Daddy while she changed your sheets or got your medicine or whatever. It was quick. It was fun — mostly because we always had cold feet and we would walk them up my father’s back and he would make noise and you would laugh and feel better and then my mom would come back in and settle you in your own bed.

  I can’t remember the last time I was in my parents’ room, but it looked the same. Even the quilt and curtains are the same ones I remember from being a kid.

  My mom was in bed. She looked sick. Like she’d had pneumonia for a month. Frail and weak and tiny.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  “I have seen better days, love.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know I was rude — ”

  She cut me off. “Cara, love, this is not your fault. I’m sorry if I scared you. This day has been a very long time in coming. Please, Teagan, go put on the kettle. I’d like a cup of tea. When you come back, bring a chair.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Teagan walked out the door.

  “Mom, are you okay?” I started to cry. What else could I do? I’ve broken my own mother.

  “Love, you have not broken me.”

  “How did you know I would be thinking that?”

  “Because, my child, it is what I would be thinking. Of all the children, you are most like me. Why do you think it is that I have always known what you were thinking?”

  “I figured you were psychic.”

  “Perhaps just a little.” Mom winked at me. “But mostly, love, I know my children. Down to their very souls. One of the many reasons that our conversation took me by surprise today. I would have bet my life, and perhaps even yours, that nothing of major proportions could have happened to you, as a child or as an adult, without my knowing of it.”

  “You’d be surprised how much is going on.” I wanted to kick myself. All the secrets that were about to come out were not mine to tell.

  “Oh, love, do you mean the talks all the girls are planning to have with me? Sinead and her little one? Your sister and her news. Or Teagan and Jessie? Love, I know of these things. I’ve known for some time.”

  “How?”

  “Why is it that the young always believe they live their lives privately when, in fact, they announce everything to the world? How would I know Sinead’s happy news? I had my suspicions long before we got home. Did you not look at your sister when she was here at the house? She was overly comfortable with Howard. Touching him in our presence. Much like you were with that curly-haired fellow — what was his name?”

  “Let’s not lose focus; you were talking about Sinead.”

  My mother chuckled. A huge improvement from when we walked in. “If we are not to lose focus, then we need to change the subject, love. I must tell you a story. I’d like to tell your father first. Please, go help your sister with the tea, and do not return until your father fetches you.”

  I all but ran to the kitchen. Teagan was sitting at the dining room table with my father. “Mom wants to talk to you.”

  “Has she told you what the problem might be?”

  “She said she wants to tell you first.”

  “As it should be.” My father walked toward their room, his head down low. His shoulders stooped. I’d never seen him like that before. Not even when my grandmother died and I saw him cry for the first time.

  “I can’t believe this. I should have kept my flippin’ mouth shut. I’ve screwed everything up.”

  “Cara, are you insane? You can’t avoid everything in life that is unpleasant. Like Mom says all the time, family is about loving each other through the ugly. It isn’t about avoiding the ugly.”

  “I don’t like ugly. It’s messy. I don’t like messy.”

  “Believe me, we all know that.”

  “I’m not talking about my slightly germ-phobic self.”

  “Neither was I.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that it doesn’t take someone with a counseling practice to know that you have this need for all things O’Flynn to be neat and pretty and tied up in a little bow. If there’s a problem, you either ignore it, or you fix it. We aren’t allowed to be normal, at least in your eyes.”

  “That is so not true.”

  “Really? When Maeve said she was in love with…”

  “Shhh.”

  “See.”

  “It’s not our story to tell.”

  “It’s not a story, but, anyway, you just assumed that everyone would be fine and that it wouldn’t cause any troubles at all. If it all hit the fan, if you even allowed yourself to recognize it, your reaction would be that it was good that it hit the fan so that it was all out in the open and everyone would heal and it would all be good.”

  “That is kind of how I think.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So how do I fix that?”

  “See.”

  “Teagan, just because I want to fix something doesn’t mean that — ”

  My father appeared in the kitchen arch. “Girls, this is going to take longer than your mother anticipated.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She will be. She asked if you could come back here in ninety minutes.”

  Teagan answered for us both. “Of course. Can we get anything while we’re out?”

  “No, thank you.”

  My father was so stressed. He was pretty much rigid. This couldn’t be good.

  “How about you just give one of us a call when you’re ready for us to come back? No time limits. Just when the two of you are ready.”

  “That would be better. Thank you.”

  He turned and started back toward their bedroom.

  My heart broke.

  Dear God, what have I done?

  THREE

  “YOU WANT TO go home and clean something? You might feel better.”

  “My apartment is clean enough. Thanks.”

  “You can come to my house and clean something.”

  “I don’t want to clean anything, Teagan. I just want Mom to call and say that she’s okay. I really think I broke her.”

  “You didn’t break Mom. Besides, this morning you were all about being the victim in all this, and now you’re acting like the villain. Pick one, Cara.”

  “Shut up. I wasn’t all about being a victim. I was explaining to you what happened.”

  “Right, which you really haven’t. I figured we’d go over to Mom and Dad’s house and you’d be telling Mom everything and going over there would save you from saying it all twice, but since it doesn’t look like you are going to be talking to Mom anytime soon, why not take this opportunity to talk to your favorite sister?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know what the hell Bernie and her friends did to yo
u all those years ago that freaked you out. You acted like this was the worst thing in the world. You cried like there was no tomorrow. You wouldn’t talk to me. You said you were betrayed by all things O’Flynn. You were a total nut job. What do you mean, what do I want to know? I want to know what caused you to go nuts. What was so terrible that we ended up where we are?”

  “You know how Mom is always saying that life is all about perspective? Things that Bernie and her friends did all those years ago really don’t seem all that important compared to Mom being broken.”

  “I swear to God, Cara, I will beat the crap out of you if you pull that on me. You don’t get to make a big deal about it and then say never mind. It doesn’t work that way. What did Bernie and her friends do to you?”

  “Okay, fine. But remember the perspective thing.”

  “I got it. You overreacted.”

  “I did not!”

  “I swear, dingleberry. Start talking.”

  “Okay. It’s not like they did one thing or that one of them did a bunch of things; it is more like each of them did at least one thing.”

  “Okay, you need to make sense.”

  “Sorry. I’ll just tell you a few of the things they did, and then you can tell me if I overreacted.”

  “Talk, dingleberry.”

  “Talking. Remember that beautiful brooch that you want to borrow for your wedding?”

  “Do not tell me that something bad happened with that brooch. I have my whole hair thing planned around it, and Morgan already used it.”

  “Nothing bad happened to the brooch. Or with the brooch. The brooch belonged to Mrs. MacBranain.”

  “Mom knows her and calls her Violet? That lady?”

  “Yeah. Mrs. MacBranain was like a hundred years old when I was in fourth grade, so she’s gotta be dead by now.”

  “Get to the point, Cara.”

  “MacBranain is one of the people who lived with Bernie. I’m not sure if she had a boarding house or just had people staying in that extra bedroom in the back of the house. But Bernie seemed to have all these people around all the time. They seemed to rotate through or something.”