Raising Rain
Page 20
Rain pulled up in front of her mom’s house on Saturday and sat in the car for a few minutes to focus. Her mom’s condition had deteriorated the last time she’d visited, and she wanted to prepare herself for a change so she wouldn’t react. She also wanted to put on a mask of normalcy. She didn’t want to let on about the fertility shots or her hope for a child. She didn’t want to hear any negative comments about her personal life at all.
Rain glanced up at her mother’s bedroom window and saw her standing there with the curtain pushed aside. How long had she been watching Rain and her reluctance to enter? Nothing like dishing up a little guilt for her mother to use when she first walked through the door. Rain got out, climbed the steps to the house, and opened the front door.
“So I see you decided to come in,” Jude said, as she carefully made her way down the staircase.
Rain ignored her comment and stood at the bottom of the stairs in case her mother stumbled. “Maybe you should move your bedroom down to the office. I could help William move the furniture.”
“It’s quiet up there, and I only come down when William isn’t here.”
“That doesn’t exactly make me feel any better. He could come home one night to find you in a pile at the bottom.”
“That should make him happy.” Jude sank into an overstuffed chair and said, “Hand me that afghan, will you?”
Rain spread the blanket over Jude and went to the fridge. “Do you want anything?”
Her mother shook her head with her eyes closed.
Rain poured herself a glass of ice water and sat on the couch. “Do you need me to throw some laundry in or fix you some lunch? Anything?”
“No. Update me on the Celebration.”
“Okay. Well, I know that Toni finalized the house arrangements, and Mare’s working on the menu, and Bebe is investigating some distractions to keep everyone from strangling each other over the three days. She asked if I thought you would agree to use a wheelchair so we can all go to the aquarium together.”
Jude frowned without opening her eyes. “Why does she think I’d need a wheelchair?”
“It’s a long day of standing and walking. But from what I hear, it’s pretty amazing.”
Jude considered her. “I’ll think about it.”
“She has to buy tickets, so let me know soon.”
“I assume they’re also working on ideas for a group project. Something to raise awareness or a cause to commit to?”
“Oh, I think that goes without saying.”
Jude opened her eyes and looked at Rain. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Rain gestured with her hands. “It means I have no idea. I haven’t seen Mare or Toni since Dulcinea’s and I’ve spent practically every Saturday over here.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No.” Rain gave Jude an overly sweet smile. “I’m really not.”
Jude couldn’t hide a small smile before she closed her eyes and settled back into the cushions.
Rain flicked on the television and turned down the volume in case her mother wanted to talk. Rain watched Jude breathing with the afghan pulled up beneath her chin like a child, and felt a softening toward her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Suddenly, she wanted to fill in the gaps about her mother. Why should she care to know a father who wasn’t even there, if she didn’t really know her mother who was?
Rain wanted to know what Jude was like growing up, and as a college coed in a time of turmoil. What had made her so self-reliant and so hard? Why had she written her own rules to live by at such a young age? Jude rarely spoke of her own mother, and perhaps Jude was a better mother than Shirley had been to her. What had made her so antagonistic toward men and tradition and, well, God?
Jude must have sensed her watching, because she opened her eyes and asked, “What?”
It startled Rain, and she had trouble denying that there wasn’t something. When Jude pressed her, she said, “I was just wondering what you were like when you were young, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Jude answered, without opening her eyes.
“So, dish. ‘Enquiring minds want to know.’”
Jude opened her eyes a slit, considered Rain for a moment, and closed them again. “I was a scrappy little baby who grew into a scrappy little girl from the wrong side of the tracks.”
Rain balked. “You did not. You grew up in a very nice neighborhood with a pony. I’ve seen pictures.”
“Tom Tom wasn’t a pony, he was a mastiff.”
“Still, he was huge and you were riding him.”
“The first thing every newly poor family does is to buy a pet that they can’t afford. It’s a form of denial. Even at that age, when my father came home with him, I knew.”
“But the house?”
“We lost it. My father gambled and was in terrible debt. My mother couldn’t hold a job because of her drinking. He left us, and we moved to the Heights. If you don’t mind, I’d really rather not discuss it.”
Rain was just wondering how far she could push her mom about it when Jude shifted beneath the afghan, and asked, “Would you mind making me a cup of tea? It’s in the cupboard, arranged alphabetically, I’m sure.”
Rain made them each a cup of White Pear, and asked, “How is your mom doing?”
“Considering her condition, Shirley’s probably better off than I am,” she said, adding under her breath, “At least, she doesn’t know what’s happening to her.”
“You mean her dementia?”
“I mean her physical state. Her march toward eternity. The inevitable reality.”
Rain set Jude’s cup on a coaster on the end table within her reach. Jude sipped her tea delicately. “William always buys cheap tea,” she said, grimacing.
“It is not. I used the White Pear tea with the pyramid infuser bags. It even has antioxidants. William only buys the good stuff for you, and you know it.”
Jude cradled the teacup between her palms. “It hasn’t always been that way.”
Rain watched her mother for a while without responding. Maybe Rain had opened a can of worms asking about her past, and by subtly chastising her about her treatment of her own mother and William. She didn’t really know what went on between them.
“It might not have always been that way, Mom. But people change.”
Jude sized her up as she took a sip of her tea. “By the way, have you reconsidered the house? It may be easier than you think. And you can use the money for whatever you need, down the road.” She returned the teacup to the end table and snuggled beneath the afghan.
Rain wondered whether she, herself, had changed enough to treat Hayden as unfairly as her mother treated William. She had realized that every payment made on the house, every repair had come from her account alone. Since he was also listed as a buyer, it wouldn’t be enough to take the house from him without giving him some kind of compensation in return, but the threat of a messy court case might be enough to intimidate the normally nonconfrontational Hayden into seeking an easy solution. But could she do that to him?
Rain sighed and reached for the remote. “Let’s see what’s on television,” she said. As the channels clicked by, she reflected on the limited time they had left together, and wondered whether she would ever really know what made her mother tick.
After she got home that evening, Jude called her to say to go ahead and buy the aquarium tickets.
Rain got a call from Hayden saying that they needed to make some financial decisions for tax purposes since the year was drawing to a close. They planned to meet for dinner downtown after work. Rain didn’t want to come unprepared, so she spent her lunch looking up comps in her neighborhood. The average single-family dwelling on her street was worth $425,000, but theirs had added amenities that could increase the value, if they could find a buyer. Three houses on her street were listed, and one was a foreclosure.
Rain was late to the restaurant and found that Hayden had already been seated. From the hostess station, sh
e saw him watching the Kings game on a television mounted above the bar, and she slid into the seat across from him before he realized she was there. He greeted her and called over the server by name. The server took Rain’s drink order and handed her a menu.
Next, he turned to Hayden. “Bacon cheeseburger, medium, with mayo on the side, and seasoned fries?” Hayden glanced up, looking a bit chagrined, and answered that he would like to see a menu, also.
Rain was shocked at this drift from his near-vegetarian state, and at how the server knew his “usual.”
“I come once a week or so,” he said, reading her mind. “It’s on the way home.”
They made small talk, only briefly making eye contact like they were on a blind date. How often did he frequent this place? she wondered. Maybe this had become his second home. Rain didn’t know whether she felt relieved that he was still a creature of habit with his wings clipped, eating at the same place every night, or to feel sad that he knew these people so well and preferred not to eat alone. Or maybe not. As the night went on, Rain noticed a female server with a bobbing ponytail discreetly glancing at them every time she passed by.
Hayden asked about her mother and she told him about the Celebration weekend coming in a week. She told him about Scott’s graduation from boot camp, and he told her that his father had retired from his medical practice. They were having a retirement party for him after the holidays. When he said the word “holidays,” the conversation took a quiet, even more awkward tone.
She noticed that he was putting on a little weight, probably from too many hamburgers, but it softened his face in a pleasing way. A few gray hairs dusted his temple, which she’d never noticed before. He’d only been gone a few months—had they always been there? He wore a new polo shirt in a soft shade of apricot and jeans with a sharp crease down the legs. He must be taking them to the dry cleaners, she thought. His favorite leather jacket hung on the back of his chair, looking supple and probably smelling of his aftershave.
As they finished eating, Hayden opened the conversation about their financial situation and suggested they use the same tax preparer. Rain saw the wisdom in continuing with the same person who had done their taxes for years, since he would be familiar with their situation and they trusted him. There were a few bills that still needed to be divided up. He offered to take the Lowe’s account, but Rain insisted on paying it herself, secretly wanting to keep the repairs coming from her account, just in case. They argued over it for a while, but she had her way in the end. He had dropped his membership to the fitness center, since he’d moved too far for it to be convenient any longer. It was up to her to renegotiate her own membership, if she wanted to keep it. He would pay off the Expedition with the next payment. Her Hyundai had been paid off the year before. At last, the only thing of importance left was the house.
“We should just sell it,” Rain stated, “and get out from under the mortgage.” She glanced away and tried to sound casual. “Unless you want to buy me out.”
“That would be easier to do if the real estate market was moving right now, or if I had money that wasn’t already tied up.”
“I don’t see that we have any choice but to try to sell it. Comps in the neighborhood are around four twenty-five.”
He rubbed his chin. “Just two years ago it was worth six.”
She played with the toothpick from her sandwich. “And its worth is dropping as we speak.”
She remembered walking through the empty shell of house just seven years ago as they watched the progress on this new home they planned on sharing together. They had chosen the kitchen tile and the carpet and the placement of the appliances. Even the fixtures in the bathrooms. She’d insisted on granite countertops, which could only increase the value now. Of course, they haggled over the colors of the walls, but Hayden admitted that it was perfect when they were done.
“Maybe we should hang on to it for a while longer,” he suggested. “Split the payment to see if the prices come up and sell it when the market improves. It would be a shame to lose all that equity if we didn’t have to.”
Rain pressed her lips together, considering. Then she said, “I need the money now.”
“For what?”
Rain glanced over the heads of the people at the nearby table, and then plunged in. “I need it to pay the clinic.”
He looked confused for a moment, but then she saw the light come on. “The clinic.”
“Yes,” she said, pointedly. She crossed her arms and lowered her eyes. “It’s expensive. There are all kinds of costs, depending on the treatment, and then, sometimes, it doesn’t work the first time and treatments have to be repeated—”
“Is that normal?” he asked, interrupting.
She looked him in the eye. “No. Normal is two people loving each other and having a baby naturally. But that’s not an option right now.”
He motioned with his hands to keep her voice down, and it annoyed her. After all, she thought, these people were getting to know him. Maybe Ponytail should know up front about his aversion to babies.
“Let’s at least wait until after the holidays are over. And after your mom . . . you’re going to have a lot on your plate soon enough.”
Rain reluctantly agreed. Her insurance would help with the IUI, and time would tell whether she needed in vitro. Then she would need the money in hand, and she just might try to take the house if Hayden was difficult and didn’t want to sell.
When they were finished, he walked her down the dark street to her car, and asked her what kind of progress she’d made on having a baby. It caught her off-guard. He must have made peace with it, and accepted that she was going her own way. Perhaps he’d wanted to ask under shadow of darkness so she couldn’t read his expression. She grew a little irritated, when she realized that if he hadn’t been so difficult, he would be sharing this with her instead of going it alone.
“I’m getting there,” she said. “I’m on some medications and shots to help things along.”
They paused by her car as she dug for her keys, and he asked, “You’re taking shots?”
“Yes, daily shots. I’ve gotten pretty good at it. But my thighs are a beautiful shade of eggplant like our . . . like the guest bathroom. The doctor is hopeful that I’ll be pregnant in a few weeks.” She tried to fit the key into the lock of her car, but his shadow blocked the streetlight.
“You’re giving yourself the shots?”
She looked up at him and in the dim light, saw something like wonder and respect register on his face. “You want it that badly?” he asked.
“Yes. I want it that badly.” At that moment she felt there was so much left unsaid between them. “It could have been easier, you know, if . . .”
He waited without responding.
“Nothing,” she said. “Forget it.”
He said good-bye, and brushed an awkward kiss on her temple. He started to walk away, but the endearment softened her, and she called after him. “Hayden, what are you afraid of? Really?”
He stopped and turned back to her.
“Pregnancy? Family?” She crossed her arms against the cold. “What is it about having a baby that scares you so much that you would walk away from seven years together?”
He walked back to her car with his head down and his hands jammed into his pockets. “You really want to know?”
Something about the way he said it made her hesitate, but she answered that she did. He looked her in the eye for several moments, and took a deep breath.
“I’m not afraid of changing diapers or losing a lifestyle or post-partum blues, if that’s what you think. I’m not terrified of being a father. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.” He looked down at his shoes for a moment, and then lifted his head to her. “The thing I’m really afraid of is how much you’re becoming like your mother. And I don’t want to bring a child into that.”
His words were like icy water and the shock of them squeezed the breath from her. “How can you say that?”
“But time was running out, and you didn’t care that I wanted a baby.”
“That’s not true. I had concerns that you didn’t want to hear, or you didn’t think were important, and it became a battleground. That’s just the tip of the iceberg, Rain.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know that I think selling the house right now in this market is a bad idea. But you want the money so badly for something that may not even work, that you’re willing to take a chance on throwing away our investment.”
She turned away from him, trying to get a handle on his words and clenching her teeth against the impulse to cry. The neon Budweiser sign in the window across the street flickered with uneven pulse. A noisy, laughing group spilled out the doorway of Ninja Sushi across the street and called to each other as they dispersed to their cars.
She heard him exhale heavily. Then, he briefly touched her elbow. “I’m sorry, Rain,” he said. “Look, I’m sure there’s no reason why you can’t have a baby. You usually find a way to do whatever you set your mind to.”
When she didn’t respond, he said, “I have to go.” She glanced over to see him turn up his collar against the cold. His voice was almost kind as he added, “I hope you get what you want,” and then walked away. Hot tears blurred her eyes so that she could hardly see the key going into the door lock, even after his leaving had lit the way.
She got into her car and locked herself in, trembling from anger and hurt. What a horrible thing to say to her, that she was becoming like Jude. He, of all people, knew exactly how she felt about her mother. Was she really that person?