“She has Stage Four colon cancer.” They were the only words I could think to say, as though no other words in the world mattered.
Maddie nodded and led me to the passenger side of Sarah’s car.
“How are yo—” Sarah started, but I shot her a look that told her I didn’t want to answer an unanswerable question.
Okay? Who would be okay right now?
My mother despised me, and I reciprocated; yet she had requested that I take her to all of her doctor appointments. Why? I rubbed my face with both hands, hoping that when I opened my eyes, everything would be clear. Sarah placed her hand on my knee while she waited for Maddie to pull out. I opened my eyes slowly. Clarity didn’t return.
Soon, we were on I-25 heading north to our home in Fort Collins. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed. All I wanted to do was forget everything.
* * *
Sarah’s alarm trilled.
I pictured her groaning and slamming her hand down to silence the alarm’s shrill intrusion. She wasn’t much of a morning person. She never understood why I habitually hopped out of bed early to ride. This morning, though, I wasn’t on my bike. I sat at our kitchen table, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea. On the drive home last night, all I had wanted to do was crawl into bed. However, once there, I couldn’t stop my mind from bouncing all over the place, rendering sleep impossible.
I decided to be useful and set about making Sarah a cup of coffee. She was still in the shower by the time it was ready, so I carried it into the bathroom and opened the shower door to say good morning. She needed more than a sip of coffee to jumpstart her brain in the morning; Sarah was usually a zombie until her second cup.
“Jesus Christ, Lizzie!” She placed a hand on her chest and sucked in a breath. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry. Just thought you’d like some coffee.” I raised the cup so she could see the vapors, mingling with steam from the shower, enticing her.
She shut off the water and wrapped a towel around her body, stepping out and placing a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you.” She took the cup from me and gave it a greedy slurp. “I thought you were out riding.”
I waved the idea away. “Couldn’t sleep so I got up late. I didn’t realize the time until I heard your alarm.”
Her face softened, as if struck by the memory of picking me up last night, after my dinner with my estranged father. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?”
I wanted her to stay home from work, but I knew she couldn’t. Sarah hardly ever missed a day of teaching. Shaking my head, I said, “Not really.”
She let her towel drop and walked toward me, hips swaying seductively. “Nothing at all?”
Sometimes, when I looked at Sarah completely naked, I had to pinch myself; this was one of those times. “You might be late,” I teased.
She kissed my neck, her lips still wet from the shower. “I’ll drive really fast,” she whispered, pushing me backward into the bedroom.
We tumbled onto the bed.
As it turned out, to fall asleep all I needed was a roll in the hay. I vaguely remember Sarah getting up afterward, rushing around, getting ready. Before she left, Sarah flicked a strand of hair off my forehead and replaced it with a tender kiss.
A few hours later, my phone beeped. Even rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands couldn’t clear away the fogginess. When my eyes finally focused, I checked my text messages.
“You have twenty minutes to get ready.”
Maddie—letting me know she was playing hooky and she expected me to join her.
I grunted. All I wanted to do was to stay in bed all day. I set my phone aside, intending to ignore her. My cell beeped again.
“I’m not kidding.”
“Jeez, Maddie,” I muttered as I pulled myself out of bed and into the shower.
She arrived five minutes early, brandishing a Starbucks chai latte.
“Thanks.” I ripped the cover off and sucked in the delicious steam. “What time did Sarah call you to check on me?”
“Suspicious much, Lizzie?” Maddie’s hands formed determined triangles on her hips.
I tilted my head, waiting.
“As soon as she left. She said you didn’t sleep at all last night.”
“Couldn’t turn my brain off.”
“You finally found it, then.” She smiled and arched an eyebrow.
“Oh, so funny.” I took a long swallow. “Well, since you’re my babysitter today, what’s the plan?”
“The zoo.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not five,” I jeered.
“Have you ever been to the zoo?”
Maddie had me there, and she knew it.
“So don’t knock it until you try it. Besides, once you have a kid, you’ll need to know how to get there.”
Kid. I’d completely forgotten about the baby Sarah wanted. Shit! How must Sarah be feeling? Overwhelmed? Or disappointed? She’d announced she wanted to get pregnant, and then, all of a sudden, Mom reenters my life with colon cancer. What rotten timing.
Would Sarah wonder whether I’d planned this somehow? Or whether I was fibbing, that none of this was real. No. The outlandish thought made me smile.
“That’s the first time you’ve smiled at the mention of your child.”
Maddie looked so impressed with herself that I didn’t have the heart to confess the truth. Instead, I steered the conversation to a topic I knew she loved. “Can we grab some breakfast first? I’m ravenous.”
She gave me that knowing smile of hers. “Did you two get naked earlier?”
“Maddie!” I stormed out of the room, calling for Hank, my cat, to say good-bye. Not that he cared when I came and went, as long as his food dish was full and his cat flap was open during daylight hours. But even after we moved to a quieter neighborhood, it took me weeks to trust him on his own outside.
When I returned to the kitchen, Maddie was still giggling. She and Sarah could talk about sex all day, and often did around me. Not me. Maddie told me once that Peter was the same way: he couldn’t discuss it. I think I went into shock. Who in their right mind wanted to know they were as sexually repressed as their brother? Sometimes, I thought Maddie brought the subject up to distract me. This morning, it was working.
I fidgeted in the passenger seat as we traveled back to Denver to go to the “magical” zoo that was meant to take my mind off my disaster of a life.
“It’s okay, you know,” Maddie said.
We hadn’t spoken for miles, so I had no clue what she was talking about. “What is?” I placed my empty chai cup in the holder.
“Feeling conflicted, about your mom?” She tapped the steering wheel in tune with the radio.
I stared out the window. I did my best to concentrate on some cows coming into view in the distance. If I didn’t, tears would fall. “I don’t know what to think or feel. All night I wondered why I couldn’t feel sad. I mean, I am sad, but I’m not devastated.” I leaned against the headrest. “I’m such a crappy person.”
“That’s true, but not about this, at least.” Maddie’s voice gave no indication whether she was teasing or not. She could be a difficult person to read. She had a knack for saying things that, in her Southern tone, could mean anything.
I opened one eye and saw her smile. “Thanks.”
“Let’s face it, Lizzie. Your mom would never win any Best Mom awards. You haven’t spoken to her since the wedding, and now, all of a sudden, she wants you to be there for her. It’s fucked up.”
“So you wouldn’t do it?” I felt hopeful.
“Oh, no. I’d take her.” Maddie took her eyes of the road briefly to make eye contact. “No matter what, she’s your mom. Maybe this experience will be good for you two. If you turned your back now, I know you’d let it tear you up inside.”
“Why is it I only feel two emotions around my mother: guilt and anger?”
“Families. Gotta love them.�
��
“I need to pee.”
Maddie cocked her head, insinuating she knew I was using it as a diversionary tactic. To my surprise, she didn’t object. We pulled off at the next gas station. I hid in the bathroom for several minutes, feeling silly. A gas station bathroom wasn’t the best place to gather one’s thoughts. Before I was ready, I stepped outside.
The sun blazed above. I couldn’t help but feel a tad excited about the zoo. The Petrie family didn’t do the regular family things: zoos, soccer games, bowling, movies. Maybe having a child with Sarah would give me the chance to experience the things I’d missed out on as a child. Goodness knows Maddie and Sarah wouldn’t let me miss out on those types of events. Was I ready to spend every weekend doing something new? Would Sarah insist on taking tons of photos and then spending hours scrapbooking, like she had after our wedding? I had only just recovered from all of that insanity.
Maddie honked the horn and stuck her head out the window. “Move it, or lose it.”
I laughed. Was she serious? I was pretty sure Maddie wouldn’t actually mow me down in the gas station parking lot? But knowing her, I decided not to press my luck.
* * *
Turned out, otters were the most adorable creatures I’d ever seen. I stood outside, watching one little guy float on his back and slam a rock into a clam. I couldn’t get enough. Two more chased each other in the water. Maybe this was why Mom had never taken me to the zoo: it’d prove to her that I was completely hopeless. For Mom, animals weren’t cute; they were a nuisance. I wouldn’t be surprised if she signed a petition to do away with all animals and zoos.
Maddie stood off to the side, talking on the phone with one of her clients. It always amazed me that she could be away from the office and still manage to get work done. If I didn’t lock myself in my office at home, I wouldn’t accomplish a thing.
My latest research project—the role young women played in the Third Reich—was fascinating, but I still often found myself staring out of my window instead of pouring over my books, researching, or writing. My publisher had pitched the idea after I completed my book on the Hitler Youth, the Nazi version of the Boy Scouts. For the most part, women, especially young women, had been excluded from the history books during that time period.
Oh God, if my mother found out about my new project, she’d be irate. “So now you’re a feminist, too! It’s not bad enough you’re a lesbian. You have to be the voice of Nazi women. Nazis! What will they say at the club?” The opinion of the ladies at the club was all that mattered to my mom. Did they know she was sick? Let them take care of her.
I was so busy having this mental discussion that I jumped when Maddie tugged on my shirt.
“Come on, let’s check out the baby animals.”
When we exited the zoo, I asked Maddie if we could stop at the Tattered Cover bookstore in Cherry Creek. I had spent many a day there when I was in high school. The store was massive, with so many wonderful nooks and crannies that a book lover could get lost there and completely forget about the outside world. On most visits, I went straight for the history or audiobook section. Today, I had a different mission: parenting books.
If nothing else, today had proved I was clueless. Shit! I hadn’t even been to a zoo before! At thirty years of age I was, until very recently, a zoo virgin. My child deserved better. I considered asking Sarah to go bowling later.
Maddie appeared around the corner, a stack of books piled in her arms—mostly chick lit and romance. All of the covers were either pink or purple. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, but never thought to check here.” She eyed the shelves, but said nothing.
“Research,” I said, ashamed I couldn’t admit the whole truth. I was terrified I’d be a shitty parent—just like mine. “Are you ready? Sarah should be home in a couple of hours.”
Maddie nodded and followed me to the registers.
“You busy tonight?” I asked Maddie as she pulled the car off the highway, onto Harmony Road in Fort Collins.
“Why? What do you have in mind?”
“I thought the three of us could go bowling.” I said it as if we went bowling all the time.
“Bowling?” she chortled. “Oh, this I have to see.” Before I could change my mind, Maddie hit a button on the steering wheel and the phone started dialing. Sarah’s number on speed dial, I guessed. Maddie always made or answered hands-free phone calls to and from clients while driving. “Sarah, Lizzie wants to take us bowling.”
“Are you in the car?” Sarah replied. I could sense a smile in her tone.
“Yes, so I can hear everything you say,” I said. “Go ahead and laugh. Maddie already did.”
I heard muffled laughter. “I’m not laughi—” she couldn’t get out the rest of the word.
“Shall we meet you at home?” Maddie said.
“Ye—” More giggling.
This was going to be a long night. Why had I thought it was a good idea? Could I really squeeze a whole childhood into one day?
Chapter Three
Several days later, I pulled my new SUV into my parents’ driveway. Several months back, Sarah had insisted we needed the car. I realized this was another clue I had missed.
It was eleven in the morning, and I knew my father would be at work. Mom’s condition wouldn’t change his work routine, not one bit. More than likely, Peter would continue his seventy-hour working weeks as well.
I had tried calling Peter to talk about Mom. He finally responded to a text and told me she’d more than likely be home on Tuesday. More than likely. She had cancer. Did Peter think she was out on the town, shopping?
I sat in the car, deciding what my next move should be. I felt chickenshit. My instincts screamed at me to put the car in reverse. To tell everyone that I had stopped by but Mom was out. Simple as that. I tried, really tried, to be there for her, I could say, appeasing the guilt. Maybe I could even actually convince myself that I had tried.
My hand started to pull back on the gearshift. All I had to do was pull it back to R. My nanny used to say, “R is for rocket.” As a kid, I spent more time in cars with Annie than I did with my own mother. It was probably safer that way, since my mother was hardly ever sober.
Why should I be there for her?
Because she has cancer, you douchebag.
I put the car in park again and opened the door.
Just get out of the car. Baby steps, Lizzie. Baby steps.
Goddammit, just go and ring the front doorbell. You’re better than this. Just fucking do it.
I trudged up the front steps and raised my hand to press the bell, suddenly realizing how ridiculous it was that I had to ring the bell to enter my parents’ home. I grew up here. Why didn’t I just walk in?
The thought angered me. I turned around and started back to the car, stopping abruptly when I heard the front door open.
“What’d you want?” My mother bellowed.
Shit! Now I looked like a coward: the exact image she always had of me.
I turned around slowly, snapping my mouth shut so I wouldn’t look completely asinine. “I just—”
“Oh, it’s you. I thought…well, it doesn’t matter.” She waved an arm limply, erasing her thought.
“Hi. I just stopped by to say, well…hi.” I shifted nervously from one foot to the other.
She looked twenty years older than the last time I had seen her. She wasn’t wearing one of her usual navy pinstripe power suits; instead, she wore royal-blue silk pajamas and a matching robe. I couldn’t remember ever seeing my mom in pajamas. I was under the illusion that she slept in her skirt and crisp white shirt.
“Do you want to come in, or do you want to continue standing outside, looking foolish?”
Mom still had a way with words.
Keep it together, Lizzie. Remember she has cancer, for Christ’s sake.
“Thanks. You look good, Mom.”
“I hope you’re a better historian th
an you are a liar,” she scoffed.
I gawked at her. She turned her back on me, and led me to the family room. I hadn’t been in the Petrie family home for years. Besides a new coat of paint on the walls, everything looked the same. An overstuffed burgundy leather couch with matching chairs took up most of the front room. Off to the side of the fireplace stood a small bar, home to several crystal decanters. The coffee table was glass, and spotless. A book sat on the floor by one of the leather chairs, and I was shocked when my mom nestled down into the chair. Was she reading a book? I knew she could read, but I couldn’t remember her ever reading much. I glanced at the cover and almost fell over. It was a copy of my book.
“Would you mind making me a cup of tea?” It was a question, but her face told me it was also a demand.
“Uh, sure.” I needed to be alone for a moment or two, to pull myself together. My mom had not only purchased a copy of my book (and not many people had), but she was also actually reading it! Why? A book on the Hitler Youth wasn’t exactly uplifting material for a person dealing with chemo treatments. Then again, maybe she liked depressing, survival-of-the-fittest shit at the moment. It did fit her acerbic personality.
I placed the teapot, cups, creamer, and sugar bowl on a silver tray and carried it into the front room. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted milk and sugar.”
My mom nodded. “Yes.”
I fixed her a cup and handed it to her, making sure I didn’t forget the saucer.
She didn’t say thanks, just sank further into her chair. It engulfed her, diminishing her meanness. I glanced down at the floor and saw that the book was now out of view. Had she shoved it under the chair or tossed it in the trashcan off to the right of the room?
“Peter called,” I started, not knowing where to go with that conversation.
“I assumed. It’s not like you to stop by.” She sipped her tea without flinching, even though I knew it was blistering hot.
I poured more milk into my cup.
“Oh, you made yourself a cup.”
I couldn’t tell from her expression whether she had meant to say that out loud, or whether she even noticed she had verbalized the thought. How dare I enjoy a cup of tea? My mother never wanted me to have an easy life. She despised that my father had set up a trust fund for me. She made it perfectly clear that I was an undeserving disappointment—a humongous stain on her happiness. And now I had waltzed into her home and helped myself to her tea supply. Lizzie the Les-Bi-An strikes again.
A Woman Ignored (A Woman Lost Book 2) Page 4