As Young As We Feel

by Melody Carlson

  Using the same cleaner she'd used on the wall, she attacked the floor. As she scrubbed, she remembered how she used to hate this floor, complaining to her parents that she needed pink wall-to-wall carpeting. Not that they listened. But now she was thankful for the old yellow linoleum. At least she knew that when she finished, it would be clean.

  By the time the room was sanitized, Caroline was not only exhausted but filthy. As much as she disliked using her mother's bathroom, she did her best to clean herself up. Maybe the bathroom would be her next project-if her mother didn't catch on and throw her out first.

  "What are you doing in there?" Mom demanded when Caroline emerged from the bathroom.

  "Using the bathroom," she told her. "Is that not allowed?"

  "What's that I smell?" her mom persisted.

  Caroline held up her hands, which still smelled of bleach. "My hands?"

  Her mother sniffed, then nodded.

  "I just washed them," Caroline said, as if that explained everything.

  "I need to use the bathroom." She pushed past Caroline.

  "And I need to go get us something for dinner," Caroline said lightly. "I'll be back in about an hour."

  Her mom didn't respond, just shuffled into the bathroom, still sniffing as if she thought she were a bloodhound. Caroline hoped she wouldn't go sniffing in the bedroom and throw a hissy fit.

  "How's it going here?" Caroline asked the boy outside.

  He kind of shrugged. "Okay."

  "I need to go to the store," she told him. "But I'm going to pay you for half your work now, just so you'll know I'm not stiffing you." She dug into her purse, then handed him two fives. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

  "Thanks!" He grinned happily.

  "By the way, I'm Caroline," she told him.

  "I'm Jacob."

  "See you later, Jacob." Caroline felt a strange mixture of exhaustion and happiness as she drove back to the store. She was actually somewhat impressed that she'd accomplished so much. She was even looking forward to finishing up. She just hoped-and even prayedthat her mother would not open that bedroom door. Caroline considered getting some kind of lock.

  As Caroline filled her cart with a deluxe mattress pad, highthread-count sheets in pale yellow, two pillows, a white-and-yellow comforter, a couple of matching pale-yellow throw pillows, white curtains, a white shag throw rug, a small bedside lamp, and several other "comforts," she tried not to worry about the expense. After all, if she wasn't staying at her mom's, she'd be paying for a hotel, and what she was purchasing today wouldn't even be the cost of two nights in a hotel. Plus it would allow her to be on hand for her mother. And maybe that would help. She hoped so.

  Next she went through the grocery section, where she got herself some yogurts and fresh produce and a few other things. Finding something her mother would eat was a challenge. Plus, due to the unsanitary conditions, Caroline wasn't eager to cook in her mom's kitchen. And so, after gathering some basics like canned soups, saltine crackers, and more of the protein drink that she'd been encouraging her mom to consume, she decided to keep things simple by hitting McDonald's again.

  Jacob was finishing up when she got back. She paid him the other ten and then a couple more bucks as a tip. "Thank you so much!"

  "Let me know if you need anything else done," he said eagerly.

  Caroline looked at the overgrown grass and shrubbery. "Do you do yard work?"

  "I do at my house."

  "Why don't you check with your mom about doing yard work here?"

  He nodded eagerly. "All right!"

  Leaving her bedroom purchases in her car, Caroline carried her groceries and takeout food into the house. She found her mom in the kitchen, staring blankly into her rather sparse refrigerator.

  "I got dinner," Caroline said cheerfully.

  Her mom jumped. "You scared me."

  "I'm sorry. But I brought you something." Caroline dangled the McDonald's bag like bait, and her mother closed the refrigerator and came over, sat down, and waited for Caroline to set things out. Then Caroline sat down and pretended to eat with her mom. But the truth was, she just couldn't stomach any more fast food. Her plan was to eat something after her mom went to bed. As usual, her mom ate very slowly, almost as if each bite was painful to chew. Maybe it was. But Caroline decided to put this time to use by straightening the kitchen.

  "What are you doing?" her mom demanded.

  "Just cleaning up a little," Caroline said cheerfully. "Do you remember when I was a girl and I hated to clean the kitchen?"

  Her mom frowned.

  "You should be glad that I grew up and don't mind doing it now."

  "Don't break anything," her mom warned.

  How Caroline would break anything in here was a mystery. Almost everything she could see was either plastic or melamine. But she told her mom that she'd be careful. Finally her mom was done eating and rose from her chair.

  "Do you want to go for a walk?" Caroline asked.

  "A walk?" Her mom looked at her like Caroline had taken leave of her senses.

  "Sure. It's nice outside and-"

  "No!" Mom firmly shook her head. "No walk." She shuffled back into the living room, made a harrumph sound as she sank into her old recliner, then clicked the remote and found her favorite game show.

  Caroline continued cleaning the kitchen. She was surprised and yet thankful that Mom wasn't lurking, watching over Caroline's shoulder and questioning every move she made. Caroline wondered if this meant her mom had started to trust her more. Or maybe it was just a fluke. Whatever the case, Caroline was determined to make the most of the time she had.

  Using some of the old grocery sacks that her mother must've been saving for years, she bagged up piles of old Styrofoam containers, empty glass jars, and all sorts of junk that normally cluttered the countertop and hogged cabinet space. She took the full bags out to the garage, adding them to the dump site that was already there. She hoped to hire someone to clear out that whole space before it went up in smoke. Hadn't her mom ever heard of internal combustion?

  Then, knowing she was already asking for trouble, she loaded the seldom-used dishwasher with all the gritty dishes and cups from the cabinets and, after a long search through all the junk stuffed beneath the kitchen sink, she finally located an ancient box of dishwasher soap. Of course it was solid as a rock. But she knocked it around until it finally released a couple of large clumps, which she tossed into the full dishwasher. Next she gave the countertops, sink, and appliances a much-needed scrubbing. And when she was done, she thought the kitchen was almost clean enough to fix food in.

  She had no idea how her mom would react to these changes. Caroline decided to play dumb if questioned about it. She also decided that this would be the way to test whether her mom needed to be moved out of the house or not. If she could accept help without blowing her top, there was hope.

  Caroline went into the living room. She was hoping that her mom had fallen asleep again, but she appeared to be wide awake. "Why are you still here?" she demanded when she noticed Caroline.

  "Because I live here, Mom."

  Her mom frowned as if trying to process this.

  "You're my mom. I'm your daughter. Don't you remember?"

  Her mom nodded but looked uncertain. "Of course I remember. You're Caroline."

  Caroline went over to her mom and stroked her hair. "That's right," she told her. "Do you remember how you used to put my hair in pigtails when I was little?"

  "What are pigtails?" she asked.

  "Braids. One on each side." Caroline tried to show her.

  "I don't remember." Now she looked sad.

  "That's okay." Caroline stroked her mom's hair again. "Maybe you'll let me fix your hair someday."

  Mom seemed to consider this, then she turned back to the TV. "My show is on."

  "I'm going outside for a while," Caroline told her.

  "To play?"

  "Yes." Caroline smiled.

  "Don't be out after dark,"
her mom warned.

  "I won't."

  So Caroline went out to her car and fetched some of her bedroom purchases. Checking to be sure no one was watching, she went to her open bedroom window and dropped them through. She made a soft landing pad of the quilt and pillows before dropping the lamp. Then she locked her car and actually did take a nice long walk. Although it seemed strange to be in her childhood neighborhood, it felt good to breathe the fresh air. And she made it home before dark.

  When she entered the house, her mother was no longer in the living room. Worried that she might've been discovered, Caroline went directly to her bedroom, but everything seemed to be as it should. So she listened at her mother's door and could hear Mom rustling about in there, probably getting ready for bed.

  Caroline went into her room and quietly began putting her bed together. Although the bed seemed small, it actually looked rather inviting when she was done. And after she'd hung the white linen curtains, laid down the rug, and turned on the little bedside lamp, the place was almost cozy. She decided to wait for Mom to fall asleep before she brought in her clothes and things from the car.

  Sitting there in her old bedroom, Caroline remembered how often she had retreated to this place as a girl when her dad was in one of his rages, beating her mom with his words and occasionally a fist. Sometimes Caroline would try to intervene on her mother's behalf, using her smile and charm to defuse a situation. Other times she would simply put on her earphones and music and tune the whole thing out. She still felt guilty about that. But she had been a child. She had needed her parents to care for her, not the other way around. Maybe some things never changed.

  Chapter 31

  ABBY

  "Where's Caroline?" Paul asked as he sat down to what was obviously a dinner for two.

  "At her mom's." Abby handed him the salad bowl.

  "You mean she's staying at her mom's?"

  "She thought it might help." Abby almost added, our marriage, but couldn't bring herself to say the words.

  "So have you lined up any other unexpected house guests?" he asked as he sliced into his steak.

  "No." Abby studied him as he focused his attention on his food. "Are you saying that it's not okay for me to invite friends to stay with us?"

  He looked up. "No. I'm just saying I'd like to be in the loop."

  "Meaning I should get permission first?"

  He frowned, then took a bite.

  "Because that's how it feels sometimes, Paul. It feels like you're the only one who calls the shots in this marriage. Like you think I'm the little woman and that I should cater to your every whim and need."

  "That's how you feel?"

  "Sometimes." She forked into her salad with a vengeance.

  "Well, do you know how it feels to me?"

  She set down her fork and stared at him. "Probably not. Tell me, how does it feel?"

  "It feels like you don't appreciate a single thing I do for you. It feels like I work hard to provide everything you could possibly want and all I get in return is complaints and nagging."

  "Complaints and nagging?" Abby was indignant. "You honestly think I nag you?"

  He nodded, then took another bite of steak. How he could make such mean accusations and continue eating was a mystery to her.

  "What on earth do I nag you about, Paul?"

  "You're always wanting to know where I've been, who I've been with, when I'm coming home, where I'm going. All the time you're on my case, treating me like you're the mom and I'm the errant little school boy. I call that nagging."

  "What if I took off whenever I liked? And what if I never communicated with you regarding my whereabouts? Would you like that?"

  He shrugged, then returned to slicing his steak.

  "No, of course you wouldn't even care," she answered for him. "You assume that your frumpy little housewife couldn't manage to get into any sort of real trouble."

  "I never said that."

  "You don't need to say it, Paul. It's written all over your face."

  He set down his knife and fork. "Are you suggesting that I shouldn't trust you, Abby? Is there something you're trying to tell me?"

  "Even if there were, I doubt that you'd care."

  "I don't understand why you'd say something like that, Abby."

  "Because it's the truth. You take me for granted, Paul."

  "Same back at you, Abby."

  "I'm not the one with the mysterious secret life, the one who goes off for hours at a time without any explanation."

  "No, you just go for days, acting like everything is perfectly fine, then out of the blue you start attacking me like you're doing right now." He frowned. "Let me guess. It's hormonal."

  Abby stood up, threw down her napkin, stomped to her room, then slammed and locked the door. Not terribly mature, but at least she hadn't said what she wanted to say. Abby had never cared for foul language. She sat down on one of the club chairs and, too angry for tears, simply fumed. She'd handled that all wrong. Nothing had come out how she'd meant it to. She had actually planned for them to have a civilized conversation tonight. She had even planned to tell him that she appreciated him. That's why she'd fixed a dinner that she knew he'd like. Now he was out there eating alone, and probably enjoying it. That made her even madder. It was obvious he didn't care about her. He'd probably be happy if she just up and disappeared. Then he could openly date Bonnie the brunette, maybe even marry her, and they'd both live happily ever after.

  She quietly opened the French door to the bedroom deck and walked out. Maybe it was hormones or anger or just plain insanity, but Abby walked out onto the beach, where she removed her shoes at the water's edge, then actually went into the ocean. She stopped when it was knee deep, high enough to get the bottom of her capri pants wet. She stood there in the cold water, looking out toward the horizon. If she had more nerve, she would just keep going straight out into the sea, just like her mother had jokingly said she'd do if Alzheimer's ever kicked in. Abby wondered if she might have the onset of Alzheimer's herself. Perhaps she'd simply imagined that Paul was seeing another woman. Except she had seen them together. She remembered that vividly. She also remembered how he had tried to keep her from knowing about it. Obviously he wanted to cover it up.

  Instead of walking straight out to sea, Abby began to walk north, staying in the shallows. She just kept going and going until she was surprised to observe that the sun was setting and her feet were numb.

  She had walked so far that she'd actually gone a ways past her mother's house. And she sure didn't want to go crying to Mommy. But that's when Abby got an idea. Barb had told Marley and Abby where a spare key to the Lowenstein cabin was hidden, in case they needed to check anything out before the sale closed on Tuesday. So Abby went up the beach and circled back around to Marley's beach cabin, where she found a sandy key beneath the flowerpot, unlocked the door, and went inside. It still smelled musty, but she didn't really care as she locked the door behind her.

  She didn't turn on any lights, but simply went into the little bedroom and lay down on the squeaky bed, pulling a wooly blanket up over her, and hoping that a sense of feeling might return to her feet more quickly than she expected it to return to her heart.

  Chapter 32

  JANIE

  On Saturday morning Janie sat on the edge of her hotel bed and turned on her BlackBerry. She hoped it wasn't too early to call Caroline, but she was eager to connect with someone-she wanted her friends to know she'd finally made it into town. "Hey, Caroline, it's Janie," she said pleasantly.

  "Janie, where are you?"

  "I got to town really late last night. I decided I'd rather be here than Portland. I'm at the hotel and I tried to call Abby, but they must be out-"

  "Abby is missing."

  Janie sat down on her bed. "Missing? What do you mean?"

  "It's just terrible, Janie. Paul called last night to see if she was with me, and of course she wasn't. Then he told me that they'd gotten into a little fight. Abby went into
her bedroom, but when Paul went to check on her, she was gone."

  "Did she take her car?"

  "No. This is the hard part, Janie."

  "What?"

  "Paul said the bedroom door, the one that looks out to the beach, was open, and although it was getting dark, he saw her tracks and they led straight to the ocean. And he found her tennis shoes and they were all wet."

  "Oh no!"

  "She was gone all night. Paul called the Coast Guard, and we've all been out looking for her."

  "Do you think she ... she did something crazy?"

  "I don't know. She's been really depressed over their marriage."

  "Oh, poor Abby!" Janie felt sickened. "Is there anything I can do?"

  "If you want, you can join Marley and me. We're just walking the beach."

  "Where are you?"

  "About a mile south of Abby's house. You remember where Bear Cove is, that picnic spot by-"

  "Yes. I'm coming now."

  "We'll meet you in the parking lot."

  Janie felt shaky as she drove to Bear Cove. What if Abby really had done something crazy? If she was so depressed, why hadn't her friends noticed? Of course, Marley, Caroline, and Janie had all been consumed with their own troubles and challenges. Trying to relocate and reinvent their lives wasn't exactly easy. They probably all assumed that Abby was lucky because she already lived in Clifden. And yet she'd given them clues. She'd always said her marriage wasn't as good as it looked on the outside. But whose marriage was?

  Janie parked the car, got out, and immediately spotted Marley and Caroline. They all ran to meet each other for a group hug. "Any news?" Janie asked as the hug broke up.