The Optimist's Guide to Letting Go
Page 17
“I do, too, Mom.” Gina rubbed her hands together. “Is Joe still alive?”
Lorraine’s eyes grew more watery.
No.
The answer hit her in the gut, sucking her breath away. Unexpectedly painful.
“Did he die before you married Dad?”
Yes.
“Were you married?”
Yes.
Gina’s heart lurched. Her mom had been a widow, twice. She wanted to hear all the stories about how they met and what happened. How did she end up with Floyd? Why did she marry him if she loved this other man? How did Joe die? Phrasing all her questions as a Yes or a No felt like an impossible hill to climb when there was so much she wanted to know.
“Did you love him?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
For once in her life, Lorraine longed to share all her secrets, but her mouth simply wouldn’t cooperate. Her eldest sat next to her bed, silent, digesting all that her limited answers revealed. But it wasn’t enough. She had let her down so many times, in so many ways.
Lorraine reached out with her hand, shaking as she moved each inch, concentrating to keep it moving in the right direction. At last her hand reached Regina’s. Her daughter’s skin was hot, almost searing to her own cold, thin skin. The warmth of connection felt good. Regina looked up.
Please don’t move your hand away.
She didn’t.
Lorraine saw so much of herself in Regina. They had both fallen in love with men their parents didn’t approve of. They both lost those beloved men. They both had to find a way to move forward, leading the way for their own children. Seeing Regina lose Drew had brought back to the front of her mind all her memories of losing Joe, the ones she thought she had locked away. She cringed at how she had told Regina to move on quickly. She was such a hypocrite. What was that old saying? You are most critical of the flaws in others that you have yourself. Perhaps that was why she was so hard on Regina—because they were too much alike. Except Regina was stronger than she was. Instead of turning cold, Regina found the warmth in everything. She had never met a glass of water that wasn’t half full, and Lorraine admired that. Perhaps if Lorraine had been able to share her own pain, they wouldn’t be sitting silent next to each other when there was so much they should be saying.
For comfort, Lorraine rubbed her gold cross with her fingers. The soft gold looked scratched and dull now from constant wear, but under her fingers, it still felt as shiny and new as the day Joe had clasped it around her neck.
Baby Regina reached for the shiny buttons on Joe’s army coat. He stood in the cheap wood-paneled living room of their tiny apartment on the other side of town from where her parents lived. It was the bottom flat of a duplex, with two bedrooms, a tiny bathroom where the faucet leaked, the tile was chipped, and the toilet required two flushes every time, and a kitchen with peeling, lime-green linoleum floors and the funk of cigarette smoke from the previous tenants. Not what she’d grown up in, but scrupulously clean, with nice neighbors, and all their own.
Joe had already hung a swing from the giant oak that shaded most of the yard, even though Regina was barely eight months old. Their landlord and upstairs neighbor, Roza, had returned little Regina after watching her while Lorraine and Joe said their good-byes before he shipped off. And now it was time.
Lorraine rubbed her hand over the small bump that was their second little one. Her white belt cut into her growing stomach—it was already on the last notch. She should never have put it on that morning, but it helped define her rapidly disappearing waist and she wanted to look good for Joe. She’d break out the tent tops and elastic-waisted pants tomorrow.
Regina wore a pretty red dress with matching bloomers. She was an angel. As Regina reached for her dad’s face, placing two chubby hands on each cheek, they all laughed at her determination to get all of his attention, as if she somehow knew she wouldn’t have it for a while. Roza snapped a few pictures to remember the moment.
“I’m looking, baby girl, what do you need to say?” Joe asked. Regina put her lips together and blew bubbles—her way of saying she wanted kisses. Joe complied, covering her cherubic face until she giggled. He held her close and pulled Lorraine in to join them, breathing in her perfume and Regina’s baby powder.
“I’ll be back before you know it, then I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you and Regina and Baby Boo.” He set his hand on her stomach. “Don’t give your mama a hard time, little one.”
A horn honked outside. He handed Regina to Roza and pulled Lorraine into his arms, breathing deeply in the crook of her shoulder. He pulled back long enough to clasp something around her neck, then pulled her in even tighter once more.
“I miss you so much already. I’ll win that war single-handedly so I can get back to you. Write me every day so I don’t miss anything. I want daily reports on our babes.”
“You’ll get so many letters you’ll be sick of me,” Lorraine said, unable to say more for fear her voice would crack.
“Talk to your parents. They should know.” He touched her stomach, and her spine stiffened. Why did he have to bring that up now, in their last moments together for months? “Promise?”
How could she not? He might never . . . she couldn’t finish the thought, and nodded instead.
“My lovely Lorraine. When the days get lonely, I’ll think of you. I love you.”
And he was gone.
Eyes closed, she heard the car door shut and the engine fade into the nothingness, taking her courage with it. She couldn’t bring herself to watch out the window as he left—if she didn’t see him leave, maybe he hadn’t really gone.
Lorraine sunk to the ground. Roza set the baby in her playpen and held her, rocking and singing a soft song in Polish. Lorraine grasped the necklace Joe had put on her neck, feeling a cross. She held it tight, letting the sharp edges cut into her palm, the pain giving her a place to focus.
“Let it out. Then you need to be strong for your little ones,” Roza said.
Regina gurgled and rolled around, the only sound in the quiet house besides her tears. Roza rubbed her back in large circles, making no demands of her, just being there, letting her be weak in a way her own mother never had, not once.
She pulled in a few deep breaths and stood, finally looking at the cross Joe had given her, flipping it over to see the faint lettering, letting the engraved message bolster her. She had shed her tears, and now it was time for life to continue so that when Joe came home to her, they would be as he left them, happy and healthy.
Less than a month to go in this pregnancy. Lorraine’s stomach bumped against the sink as she stuffed another paczki in her mouth. Roza had brought over a tray of lemon- and prune-filled ones that morning, but most of them were already gone. She licked the glaze off her fingers then washed her hands. With Regina, she’d controlled her cravings and her figure had bounced right back. With baby number two, she couldn’t stop, though it was possible she was trying to fill the void left by her husband with Polish doughnuts.
She waddled into the living room, kicking the basket of still-warm laundry closer to the couch so she could fold it. Once she finished, she’d lie down with Regina, who was napping on their bed. They only had a short time left for just the two of them, so she wanted to savor it while she could. She dumped the basket onto the couch where she could watch the world go by as she matched socks and folded worn towels, setting the neat items back into the basket.
Because their apartment was half underground, the window was level with the yard, where Lorraine could peek out and see Roza’s grandkids playing catch on the front lawn. As the kids played, she’d see a ball roll past followed by chubby legs. Their other neighbors were either mowing or watering the grass or sitting in green-and-white-striped lawn chairs watching the action. Once Regina woke up, they’d go outside to join the fun.
With a blue-and-white-striped bath towel in her hand, she folded it in half as a dark car she’d never seen be
fore pulled up in front of the house. The children’s chubby legs paused in their play. Two men in uniform emerged from the car. She folded the towel in thirds as they walked around the side to her apartment door. A dark car. Two military men in uniform. Unannounced. Dread filled her like a tiny tin bucket under a waterfall. She dropped the towel as they rang the doorbell. Every military wife in America knew what this visit meant. The men could see her through the screen door, which had been open so she could enjoy the sounds of the summer day outside. She couldn’t ignore them, but she didn’t want to acknowledge them either.
“Mrs. Sandowski, may we come in?”
She nodded, still standing with the towel heaped on her feet where it had landed. As they entered, Roza scooted in on their heels, as always, five steps ahead of everyone, knowing when she would be needed. As the officers said the words she never wanted to hear, Roza wrapped her arms around Lorraine’s shoulders.
It was combat, they said. The body would arrive for burial. He would go in the Wood National Cemetery. An officer would help her plan the service if she wanted. She could only stare blankly at the buttons on their coats, the same kind of shiny buttons Regina had played with before Joe had left. Her legs wobbled, and Roza maneuvered her to the orange-and-white-flowered sofa, shoving the piles of laundry out of the way. One of the officers bent down and picked up the towel she had dropped. He folded it in half. Then he folded it in thirds and set it on the arm of the sofa. Lorraine couldn’t take her eyes off it. Loose threads dangled from one edge, so she tucked them under.
Roza took control of the situation, spoke to the officers, and showed them to the door. Lorraine set her hands on her belly, rubbing it as if it would produce a genie, or turn back time somehow. She was never going to see her beloved Joe again, never hear him call her his lovely Lorraine. Their future crumbled to ash in her tiny living room. She curled into the still-warm towels and pulled them over her stomach and legs, over her arms like a patchwork blanket, the news finally breaking through her shock.
“No. No. No. No. No. No.” She shook her head with each word. Roza perched on the edge, ready to be whatever Lorraine needed. Lorraine pulled a towel over her head, one that Joe had used even though it had a hole in it. Why had she ever washed it? Why had she washed anything of his before he returned? Now nothing would smell like him ever again. She had been so sure he’d return, positive they would grow gray together. And now her children would be fatherless.
“Our babies.” Her voice cracked as she curled around her belly, trying to protect her baby from the pain outside, her tears wetting the laundry under her head. How would she ever climb out of this darkness? How would she move forward? Regina, who had woken up with the commotion of visitors and Lorraine’s crying, toddled over and climbed into the towels and rubbed Lorraine’s stomach with her tiny hand, unaware that her mother had no idea what to do.
The next weeks were a blur, marked different only by the clothes she wore. She would get up, drink coffee, go back to bed. Roza practically moved in, feeding, bathing, and caring for both of them.
“Time to get dressed. Your clothes for today are out.” Roza pointed to the large black dress on the chair. They had picked it out at JCPenney. Lorraine put it on without thinking. She had cried so many tears that everything had become dull and flat. Roza drove her to the cemetery in the blue Beetle. She sat in the backseat with Regina. There would be no church service, just a ceremony at the cemetery. It was one of those perfect Wisconsin June days, meant to be enjoyed in a hammock as the neighbors mowed the lawn, not dressed in black among the perfect rows of white headstones.
She sat in the front row, an open grave before her. The military had gently suggested a closed casket was the best approach, and she had agreed to it. While she wanted more than anything to see his face again, she wanted to remember him hale and whole. It was a small and simple service, complete with the traditional twenty-one-gun salute, each gunshot reminding her of what she had lost, echoing through the empty shell she had become. He was gone. Her children needed her. She couldn’t do it alone.
She had no more tears, not even when the young officer knelt before her and handed her the flag. She clutched it to her chest as their neighbors walked back to their cars, slowly so they didn’t seem too eager, but relieved they could now forget the sad business of a young woman burying her spouse. She touched Joe’s gravestone, still not engraved, only a piece of paper marking it as his. She wished she could feel his warm skin one last time, but the cold stone would have to do.
“I’m sorry, Joe, that I didn’t do this sooner. But I’ll make it right.” She turned to Roza, who stood an aisle over with a sleeping baby cradled in her arms. “I’ll take Regina now.” She handed over the flag. “Would you put this in our house, please? I’ll be back as soon as I can, but it might be a few days. There’s something I need to do.”
Lorraine set her suitcase by her feet, straightened Regina’s navy-blue dress, and smoothed her own black one over her midsection before ringing the doorbell. The shrubs of her childhood home were perfectly clipped, and the planters overflowed with red geraniums, their earthy scent reminding her of summer. If only Joe’s parents were still alive, she wouldn’t have to be here. If he’d had brothers or sisters, she wouldn’t be here. But her parents were their only family now. She pushed the button until she heard the familiar bing-bong, for the first time from outside of the house. Lorraine had timed her arrival when she knew her father would be working—her mom wouldn’t be able to resist a granddaughter.
Her mother opened the door but said nothing, taking in her black dress, her enormous belly, and Regina. After years of being married to Lorraine’s controlling father, her mother had mastered the art of hiding emotions. Lorraine waited for some indication as to whether she needed to leave or was able to enter. At last, her mother stepped aside, allowing Lorraine to enter and held out her arms for Regina, neither woman speaking or letting her face betray her thoughts. Lorraine was learning, too.
She’d learned her lesson too well. Lorraine regretted so much about her relationship with Regina—but mostly not opening her arms and heart to Drew. She had been so caught up in pretending she was fine, she ignored anything that reminded her she wasn’t. And Drew had been a big reminder of that. Thankfully, she could start making up for it now.
“Hello!” A singsongy voice came from the room’s doorway, where Maxine Fuller stood wearing the same brown fur she’d been wearing the past fifteen years. Under her fur she wore slender jeans tucked into knee-high riding boots—even though she didn’t ride—and a cream, cable-knit sweater she told everyone she had bought in Ireland, but which Lorraine knew for a fact she had ordered from Lands’ End. She’d seen the tag in the club’s locker room.
“I heard about your accident and I had to check in on you,” Maxine said, looking from Gina to Lorraine.
They all knew she was here to get all the gossip and still maintain her image as the caring and thoughtful friend while she shared all the details about Lorraine’s drooping eye and sagging mouth around the club. She hadn’t even brought flowers.
“Hi, Mrs. Fuller. It’s nice to see you again,” Gina said. “And it wasn’t an accident. Mom had a stroke.”
Lorraine frowned. Regina didn’t have to be so blunt about it. Maxine ruled the club from the center of a web built on collected secrets and carefully laid threats. Lorraine had had to cozy up to her for ten years after Regina’s embarrassing outburst in the club. That snake had told Lorraine that anyone who could not control their own daughter wasn’t qualified to organize important events.
“Hello. I know you aren’t Victoria because she’s tall and blond. Always the belle of the ball, that one. So you must be Regina.”
Maxine absolutely knew this daughter was Regina when she walked in. She was like a malevolent elephant who didn’t forget anything.
“Yes, I’m Gina.”
Maxine stepped deeper into the hospital room, scanning for every detail, petting her ugly coat. Someon
e really needed to tell her it was starting to reek like the dead animal it was—she could smell it from her bed.
“I seem to remember you married the Polish mechanic, right? I was there the night you were celebrating with your parents.”
Maxine’s lips smirked, thinking she was needling Lorraine about an embarrassing moment, but Lorraine could see the gut-punch on Regina’s face and regretted every time she had avoided discussing Regina with the club ladies. She had never mentioned what had happened to Drew.
“The Polish mechanic died almost two years ago.”
Maxine gaped and looked quickly at Lorraine, an unreadable expression on her face. Regina picked up her notebook and wrote a quick note while Maxine mentally composed her response to the shocking information.
“I am so sorry. I had not heard anything about that. I lost my father last year, so I can understand the pain you went through.” Maxine tilted her head and crinkled her brow in a practiced look of sympathy. Did she really believe anything about her was sincere? “He’s in a better place now. I’m sure it’s all part of God’s plan. How are you doing?”
Lorraine flared her nostrils. How dare this arrogant, superficial flake of a woman act like she had any idea what it was like to lose a spouse, or that she had an ounce of concern for Regina? Lorraine considered herself to have impeccable manners, and she rarely used curse words, but right now all of them boiled to the surface. She settled on the most satisfying.
Fuck off, Maxine.
If only she could actually say it.
Regina, once again showing more strength than Lorraine, merely nodded and casually set her notebook on the side of the bed before standing. Lorraine glanced down.
Can I get rid of her?
Lorraine gave a little nod and set her hand on top of the notebook before Maxine read it.
“Thank you, for saying so,” Gina said. “We’re doing okay. And I wish you had let us know you were visiting. My mom really does need to rest and doesn’t want any visitors except close friends and family. I’m sure you understand. Thank you again for stopping by.”