A Woman Ignored (A Woman Lost Book 2)

by T. B. Markinson

  I didn’t respond. I was trying to be the bigger person. “How are you feeling?” I asked eventually.

  She sighed, nostrils flared. “How do you think I’m feeling?”

  Mental note: don’t ask The Scotch-lady how she feels.

  “I—”

  “Don’t pretend you care. I’m sure Peter told you to visit, to say your peace so you wouldn’t have to live with guilt and all that hippie crapola Oprah preaches about. So you did. Don’t expect me to be grateful. I don’t need pity. Not Peter’s. Not yours. No one’s.”

  Hippie crapola. What decade was this? And didn’t Oprah retire or something?

  I ignored her tirade. “Will you have someone looking after you‌…‌when you start your treatments?” I already knew the answer, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Yes. Your father hired a nurse. That’s who I thought was at the door.” Her voice dripped with revulsion at “father.”

  I could tell the war hadn’t ended. My parents didn’t scream or shout at each other, but they did things to each other that hurt like hell—like not being there when your spouse was undergoing chemotherapy.

  I shuddered at the thought of living my life with someone I hated. Neither of them ever mentioned the D-word. Divorce didn’t happen to nice families like ours. My mom’s definition of a nice family was a wealthy family.

  Mom had no siblings to help her out. I was sure Peter would stop by every evening, but he wouldn’t actually do anything to help. My father and my brother preferred to hire help to deal with things they didn’t want to do personally. But Mom wasn’t a chore—or, at least, she shouldn’t be. Regardless, being around her was hell. I wasn’t about to offer my time to take care of her. Maybe I was just as bad as the other two.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked.

  “Yes, I would like some books to read. The one I’m reading now—it’s so dry.” She turned dry into a two-syllable word.

  I didn’t flinch. “Okay, what type of books?”

  “Whatever’s popular these days.” Her eyes dulled. She’d already lost interest. I think she only mentioned the idea so she could take a dig at me.

  “Anything else. Food?” I almost asked if she wanted me to pick up some scotch, her favorite drink. Actually, until today, I don’t think I’d ever seen The Scotch-lady drink anything else.

  “No. We can afford to have our groceries delivered,” she barked.

  Another dig. I could afford it as well, but we opted to do our own shopping.

  “Sure.” I guzzled my tea. “I’ll be back soon.” I needed to get out of there before I lost my temper.

  “Wait.” She shifted in her chair. I could tell she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. “Why don’t you bring the books by tomorrow, or the next day?”

  Shit. I had hoped this would be a one-time thing. Surely my father didn’t expect me to chauffeur Mom to all of her appointments and spend “quality” time with her.

  The Scotch-lady’s eyes flickered with an idea. “Actually, next Wednesday. Then you can take me to my appointment.”

  Holy shit. Did she just ask me to take her to her appointment? From her demeanor earlier, I assumed it was my father’s idea for me to take Mom to and from her appointments and that she wasn’t on board or didn’t know about the plan. But she was on board.

  Jesus, I wasn’t ready for this. I just wanted to buy the bitter woman some books, appease my guilt, not be her nurse, or her daughter.

  “Sure, I can do that. What time?”

  “Nine.” She forced her eyes open. “So be here at eight, since you’re always late.” Mom closed her eyelids once more, and I knew sleep would overtake her soon.

  I didn’t bother saying good-bye; it would be superfluous. I had been dismissed, as if I were a member of the household staff, but not before I was given my orders: buy books and take Mom to her appointment.

  My one problem—well the most pressing concern, at least—was finding books my mom would like to read. I felt as though it was a test. Most of the books I read were about Nazis, but Mom made it clear that not only was my book a letdown, but also that my specialty was too dull for her.

  I needed help.

  Ethan and Sarah were English teachers. I shot Ethan a text asking if we could have a coffee date at Barnes & Noble in Fort Collins. His town, Loveland, had no bookstore, and Fort Collins was only a ten-minute drive from his house.

  What types of books would a crabby woman with colon cancer read? I suddenly realized I didn’t know. I did not know the first thing about my mother. If Sarah asked me to buy her a book, I would know exactly what she’d like: sappy, something with a pink cover. But my mom? I had no fucking clue.

  * * *

  My SOS worked. On Saturday afternoon, Sarah and I sauntered into the coffee section in Barnes & Noble on College Avenue and found Ethan, Lisa, their daughter, and Maddie waiting for us. Ethan and Maddie were embroiled in a comical conversation, and Maddie was trying not to choke on her latte. Ethan gently patted her back, doing his best not to pee his pants over her antics. The woman didn’t suffer quietly.

  “Anyone need a refill?” I asked, gesturing to their coffee cups before slipping into the line to order drinks for Sarah and myself.

  Usually, I couldn’t stand waiting in line, but I didn’t want this one to end. Once it did, I would have to start searching for books for a woman who had given birth to me—that was pretty much all I knew about her. I felt like I was meeting my biological mother for the first time. It wasn’t far from the truth. Mom didn’t give me away at birth, but she did basically give up on me shortly thereafter.

  Thirty years later, she was dying. It took her getting cancer for me to recognize that I didn’t know my own mother, and that I might want to learn more about her.

  I slumped down into a chair, ready to face the book inquisition.

  “So, give it to me straight, how screwed am I?” I stared at each blank face. The only one not paying attention was Lisa. She was busy entertaining Casey, who was three-going-on-sixteen. The child wore a princess outfit including sparkling gloves, a tiara, a boa, and a wand. God, I really hoped Sarah and I had a son. How would I handle my kid dressing up like a Disney princess in the middle of spring? On Halloween, I could live with it, maybe.

  “What did you tell me once”—Ethan knitted his brow and his Coke-bottle glasses hitched up—“your mother has no qualms about ripping the heads off kittens.”

  “Yeah, I’m toast.” I slurped my chai.

  “Now hold on you two. Let’s not get all dramatic. I think it’s wonderful that your mom wants you there.” Sarah plastered a supportive grin on her face. It was phony as hell, but I appreciated the effort.

  Maddie looked away and started humming the theme song from Jaws, making Ethan giggle uncontrollably. Maddie laughed so hard she had to excuse herself and step outside. I watched her wiggle her arms frantically and wipe the tears from her face. Before returning, she checked her reflection in the glass door to ensure her mascara wasn’t smudged.

  Casey climbed into my lap, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Do you like Ariel?”

  “Ariel?” I asked unsure if that was a real word.

  “The Little Mermaid,” explained Ethan.

  “The what? The statue in Copenhagen?” Why did they name her Ariel? It didn’t sound Danish to me.

  “Seriously, Lizzie. You’re such a dork sometimes,” Ethan shook his head in amazement and smoothed the top of his perfectly styled hair.

  “Ariel—from the Disney movie.” Lisa pushed a book into my hand and spoke slowly, as if I was the three-year-old here.

  Sarah observed me closely, concern etched on her face. I was sure she was realizing I needed some major education about raising kids. Would she come home tomorrow with a bunch of Disney movies for me to watch?

  “Read to me,” Casey demanded as she snuggled against my chest.

  Et
han raised his eyebrows over the rim of his glasses.

  “That’s a great idea.” Maddie obviously saw it as an opportunity. “You read to Casey, and the rest of us will look for books for your mom. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want anything that would catch your eye.”

  Everyone but Lisa stood. Ethan gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and Lisa reluctantly left her child with me: the person who didn’t know Ariel.

  Casey tapped the book, and I started to read it aloud, although as quietly as possible. I didn’t want the entire store to think I was a loon. Two minutes in, Casey hopped off my lap and began to wander in the store. I followed, uneasy about her wobbly legs, eyeballing strangers who might be child-stealing kooks. People smiled as she weaved in and out of the crowd. I gave each one a curt nod and then got back to my guard duty. There was no rhyme or reason to her meanderings.

  Spying the children’s section in the back, I swooped Casey up in my arms. “Let’s go play.”

  “Yippee!” she shouted, tapping me on top of the head with her magic wand and giggling madly. I wanted to throttle Ethan for saddling me with his demented fairytale kid.

  On the way, a book caught my eye. I grabbed it off the shelf.

  I had never set foot into the children’s section before. Maybe I had when I was a kid, but I had no memories of ever being there.

  The place was a disaster. A cursory glance revealed seven kids running amok. Two of them crashed into each other—hard. But not hard enough for either of them to start crying, I noticed. Then I noticed they had light sabers, but they weren’t using them Luke Skywalker style. Instead, they were jousting like medieval knights. One of the knights noticed Casey in my arms.

  “The princess is here!” Both of the boys bowed dramatically.

  Casey clapped her gloved hands together and somehow managed to wiggle magically out of my arms.

  “The enemy, your highness, is attacking!” said one little boy—I mean “knight.” He raised his light saber and shouted, “Charge.”

  The other boy followed suit. Casey squealed in delight.

  Seconds later, she was distracted by a massive dollhouse, leaving the two knights, who didn’t even notice that their highness had forgotten about them, to fight it out. They were already trying to overthrow another boy, who was hiding behind a beanbag.

  The scene was chaos. I was certain I had never acted like these buffoons a day in my life. Did they have any decorum? And their parents, where were they? All I could see were employees doing their best to tidy up after each wave of children blew through like a tsunami. To their credit, the employees didn’t look mad. I would be grabbing kids by their ears and throwing them out of the kids’ section—wait a minute, Lizzie. You can’t throw a kid out of the kids’ section.

  What was wrong with me? Sighing, I sat down on a miniature chair next to Casey.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” She’d now forgotten all about the dollhouse in favor of a tea set perched on the table in front of her.

  “Uh, sure.”

  Her caramel eyes glowed as she pretended to pour me a cup. “Sugar?”

  I nodded.

  She prepared her own cup and sat down at the undersized table. The chair suited Casey, was designed for her even, but my knees jutted up above the table. I felt like an ogre.

  “We went hiking this morning. Do you know what hiking is?” Casey tilted her little head, curious.

  “Um, yeah sure, it’s when…” Why in the world couldn’t I answer a simple question? I hiked all the time. It wasn’t a foreign concept to me.

  “It’s when you walk on dirt,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  I sat there, astounded. What a simple definition. Kids really got to the heart of the matter. Walking on dirt. I chuckled, and raised my tiny cup of pretend tea to my mouth.

  “Next week, we’re going to my grandparents.” Casey was a chatty kid.

  “That’s nice. Do you like your grandparents?” I had no clue what else to say.

  “I’m going to puke in a bucket!” she shouted with glee.

  I looked around for a bucket. “Do you feel okay?”

  “In the car. I’m going to puke in a bucket!” Again, Ethan’s daughter looked thrilled with the idea of puking in the bucket.

  “She gets car sick.” Ethan sat down at the table with us, grinning at the sight of me sitting at a kid’s table and enjoying a cup of tea with his daughter.

  “May I?” I motioned to the teapot.

  “Yes, please.” He ruffled the top of Casey’s head, beaming at his princess.

  I pretended to pour him a cup. “One lump or two?” I held out the tiny sugar bowl.

  Casey giggled.

  “Two, Miss Lizzie.”

  Casey sniggered some more. I had to admit it was catching. Trying my best not to join in, I bit my lower lip.

  Ethan raised the cup and feigned burning his tongue.

  “You’re silly, Daddy.” Casey was out of her seat like a shot. The knights were back, fighting for her honor once again.

  “How’s the book hunt?” I queried as I fished in my messenger bag for my bottled water.

  “Oh, I think you’ll be impressed by the stack. Maddie keeps trying to sneak in erotica, but Sarah is dealing with her.”

  “Who sent you: my wife or yours?” I crossed my arms. I knew he was checking up on me, not on Casey.

  “Mine.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, they both sent me. They were worried.” He flicked the pages of the book sitting in front of me on the table. “I don’t know why.” He grinned.

  I glanced at the cover of the book: Mein Kampf.

  “Not many people sit in the children’s section reading Hitler’s manifesto.” He suppressed a chuckle by tugging on one corner of his expertly manicured moustache.

  “I saw it on the way in, and I remembered I needed to check something.”

  “A Mein Kampf emergency?” His expression was pure amusement.

  “Very funny, wise guy. Sarah made me get rid of my copy, so this seemed like a good time.” I shrugged.

  He let out a loud guffaw. “You really are a piece of work. Just be careful. Don’t get arrested.”

  “Hardy har har. By the way, she’s kinda funny.” I motioned to Casey.

  He rolled his eyes. “Wow, that was charming.”

  “No, I mean it. Did you know that hiking is walking on dirt? She asked me to define it and I couldn’t, but she had the definition without even thinking about it.”

  “Kids are like that. They see things how they really are.” He smiled at his daughter, who was sprinkling pretend fairy dust over the knights. “It’s a shame we lose that.”

  “I’m not sure I ever had that.”

  He smiled wryly. “You? Probably not.”

  “I’m not sure I can do this,” I warbled. “Since all of you abandoned me, I’ve been a nervous wreck, afraid I’d break your child or something.”

  Ethan placed a hand on mine. “Sure you can. Just don’t think about it. If you overthink it, you’ll drive yourself crazy. It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever done. Trust me, Lizzie. And if you don’t trust me, trust Sarah. That woman loves you more than you deserve.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks, buddy.”

  “Just keeping it real for ya.”

  A boy dressed as Spiderman came crashing into the kids’ section, running full speed before throwing himself against the wall.

  I was too stunned to move or speak. No one in the room reacted. The other kids ignored him. His parents, or the people I assumed were his parents, gazed around the section and then turned to leave their insane child with all of the other innocent children, and me.

  The parents paused and waved to Ethan, who gave a friendly wave back.

  “Do you know them?” I whispered.

  “Yes. Why are you whispering?”

  “I sure hope that doesn’t happen to our
kid,” I whispered again.

  “What?” He jutted his chin out, waiting for my answer.

  “You know.” I fidgeted on the small chair and nearly fell out. “Having a special child.”

  Ethan burst into a fit of laughter. “Nate isn’t special. He’s just a boy.”

  “Who thinks he can scale a wall like Spiderman! Did you see the way he threw himself at the wall and then bounced back three feet? No normal person would do such a thing.”

  Ethan shot me a serious look. “What about Casey, do you think she’s special?”

  “What? No! Why?” My voice cracked more than I cared to admit.

  “She’s dressed as a princess.”

  “Uh‌…‌that.” I gasped for air.

  “Lizzie, calm down. I was just giving you shit.” He smiled, relieving my stress a little. “Kids are kids. You can’t explain what or why they do things. But you need to loosen up.”

  I glanced over at Casey. She was chasing Spiderman, having the time of her life. I just didn’t get it.

  By the time we left the store, I had eight books for Mom. Maddie tried to sneak in Fannie Flagg’s Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café at the last moment, but Sarah was watching her hawkishly. As the cashier rang up the books, I saw Tipping the Velvet fall into the bag and gave Maddie the evil eye.

  “It’s for me,” Sarah explained.

  I assumed the lesbian parenting books were also for her. I hadn’t shown Sarah the books I bought the day Maddie took me to the zoo.

  I better make sure none of those accidentally slip into my mom’s pile. I’d never hear the end of that. I could hear her now, “Oh great, Les-Bi-Ans raising a child. Just what the world needs—more gays.”

  * * *

  After Barnes & Noble, Sarah had plans with her mother, so I opted to go for a bike ride. My legs, however, weren’t into it, or maybe my mind wasn’t. After five miles, I turned around and headed for home. I plopped down on the sofa, flipped open my laptop, and picked up my cup of Earl Grey.