“And he’s a weatherman—they’re never right about anything. He makes a living lying to people.” I ignored her previous statement.
Sarah shook her head in disgust and shut the water off. “We need to hurry.”
When we arrived at the Creole restaurant, located in a yellow house, I spied Maddie and Doug waiting outside with several other small groups of people. This place was always hopping.
“Morning,” I said as I approached the two lovebirds. It was obvious they were in the honeymoon stage. Neither of them noticed us walking toward them; they were too busy touching each other, giggling, and sharing tender kisses.
When they did finally notice us, Maddie turned red. Doug put his hand out for a handshake.
“Maddie,” a woman stuck her head out the door and called.
“Perfect timing. Our table is ready.”
I took Sarah’s hand, surprising her somewhat. I wasn’t going to let the lovebirds outshine me. I was already on thin ice from earlier. If I didn’t act fast, I’d have to listen to Sarah complain that I didn’t show enough affection in public, like Doug did.
Doug. I was competing with a man called Doug. What a preposterous name. D-ou-G.
We settled around a table more suitable for two. No complaints from me, though. I was famished. Every time we came here, Sarah ordered blackened salmon with grits and a biscuit. I usually stuck with the French toast, but today I felt adventurous. I picked up my menu, studying all the options.
“What are you doing?” asked Maddie. She rammed her menu into mine to get my attention.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m reading the menu.” I already knew what she was going to say.
“Like you’d ever order something different.” Sarah scoffed, looking to Maddie instead of at me.
“Just so you know, I decided, even before we arrived, to try something new, to think outside of the box.”
“What brought this on?” Maddie sipped her water, her face registering disbelief. “The craziest thing I’ve seen you eat are parsnips.”
“Don’t know. Just feel like it, I guess.”
Maddie and Sarah shared a concerned look. Ever since Mom had re-entered my life, they had been sharing this look quite a bit. It was starting to irk me.
“I haven’t been here before. Do you ladies have any suggestions?” The man with the ridiculous sounding name tried to come to my rescue.
While the three of them dissected the menu, I regretted my decision to tell them about trying something new. Eggs Pontchartrain. Eggs Sardou. Creole Omelet. Eggplant—what the? What happened to normal breakfast food, like French toast? Oh, wait, there was a waffle. But I knew I’d never hear the end of that one. My eyes continued the trek down the menu. The last item before the sides was sausage gravy on a biscuit with grits or potatoes. Damn. I knew I had to order the grits, even though the potatoes sounded better. Next time, Lizzie, keep your trap shut.
Sarah ordered her usual, which, as usual, put my choice to shame. Doug ordered the creamed spinach, Gulf shrimp, poached eggs and hollandaise—yuck! Maddie went for the fried eggplant with creole sauce. When I ordered, I noticed Maddie and Sarah glance down at the menu to interpret the dish’s fancy name.
“Sausage gravy? You’re living on the edge today,” Maddie snarked.
“Hey now, at least it wasn’t the French toast. Give her some credit.”
I grinned my appreciation of Sarah’s defense.
“Are you two ready for the big storm?” Maddie changed the subject.
I looked out the window—nothing but blue sky. Then I glanced down at my outfit—jeans, T-shirt and a fleece vest. “What storm? It’s a beautiful spring day.”
“Deceptive, huh.” Doug sat straighter in his chair. “But in a few hours, the flakes will be flying.”
“Flakes? You mean snow. It’s April. How much can we get?”
“We’re predicting it’ll be as bad as the storm on April 23, 1885.” He merrily tapped the table with his fork.
What fucking storm was he talking about? Okay, I was impressed he knew an actual date, but for all I knew he had plucked that date out of his ass. I made a mental note to look it up.
“It’s going to be a blizzard.” Maddie smiled at Doug, in awe of his “forecasting” abilities.
“Get out.” My tone betrayed me. I immediately felt the weight of Sarah’s disappointment. I had to learn to control my tone.
Maddie glared at me as if I had just smacked Doug in the face. “Care to make a friendly wager, Lizzie,” she managed, through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, I do,” I taunted her, waving a fork at the sky.
Next to me, Sarah bristled. Time to bring my contempt down several notches or I’d get the silent treatment for the rest of the weekend.
“One dollar.”
“Oh, you are living on the edge, Maddie.”
“It’s not the amount, but the satisfaction. I might frame it to remind you.” She looked tickled with the idea.
To Doug’s credit he didn’t look put out by my obvious disdain for his profession.
Profession! Puh-lease!
In my estimation, the man licked his finger, stuck it in the air, and guessed what direction the wind was blowing and what that portended. Meteorologist, my ass. I studied his massive nose to see if it twitched.
Sarah steered the conversation away from Doug by throwing me under the bus. “Lizzie doesn’t think she has any issues with being a lesbian.”
My heart stopped beating. “Thanks for that, Sarah,” I said. I tried to stop my jaw from clenching.
Maddie laughed and covered her mouth.
“Anytime.” Sarah smiled sweetly at me. This was my payback for being an ass to Doug.
Again, Doug looked comfortable. Was he slow on the uptake? Was that how he stayed calm about everything?
“I take it you had to explain the turkey baster.” Maddie wasn’t slow about anything.
“Yep. And then I said I wouldn’t put her through that, and you should have seen how relieved she looked.” Sarah rubbed the top of my head as if I were a well-behaved puppy in training.
Our food arrived, and thank God mine looked edible. Raising my fork to dig in, I responded, “Just what issues do you think I have with being gay?”
“For starters, you just whispered the word gay.” Maddie was quick to the punch.
“I did not!”
“Yes, you did.” Sarah was feeling punchy as well.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. What else?”
“You don’t have any gay friends.” Maddie sampled her eggplant. It must have passed the test because she shoveled a much larger piece into her mouth.
“That’s not true. You’re—”
“Bisexual. Come on, say the word with me.” I assumed Maddie knew why I had stopped, but she wasn’t going to let me off the hook. “Bi-Sex-U-Al.”
“Now, hold on.” I held my fork in midair, the tines pointing toward Maddie. “When you told me, you told me in confidence. I have no issue with saying the word.”
“If I remember correctly, I said don’t tell your family.” She grinned triumphantly. “And you still haven’t said it.”
“Bisexual.”
Maddie cupped her ear. “I’m sorry, what? I can’t hear you.”
I wanted to hurl my glass of water in her face, but two could play at this game. “Bisexual!” I roared, stabbing my diminutive pitchfork in her direction.
Every head in the place turned and stared. Not a sound could be heard.
Uh-oh. I felt the color rush to my face, and for a second thought I might pass out.
Maddie raised her orange juice in my honor. “Good for you. How’d it feel?”
I ignored her question. “So, I take it Doug knows.”
Doug responded, “My sister is with a bisexual, too.” He whispered the word, but I was pretty certain he did it for my benefit, since he added a wink.
Damn! I wanted to ha
te Doug, but I couldn’t.
“Okay, so everyone else is gayer than me. I’m guessing this is something the two of you”—I stabbed my knife in Sarah’s direction and back at Maddie—“have discussed and you have been waiting for the right opportunity to bring it up.”
“Maybe.” Sarah glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, sheepishly.
“So what? Do I need gay education or something? Do I need to tell everybody I meet that ‘I’m here and I’m queer,’ or should I blurt out, ‘Hi, I’m Lizzie. You can remember that because it rhymes with lezzie, and I am one. Lizzie the Lezzie, pleased to meet you.’”
Sarah knew my breaking point, and she must have sensed I was approaching it. “Honey, it’s not that. It’s just—” She turned to Maddie for help.
“I think what Sarah is trying to say is that she’s worried that when you two have a kid, well you’ll raise a you.”
“What in the hell does that mean?” I threw my fork down on my plate. Somehow, it missed the massive pile of food and clattered off the hard surface, onto the floor. Its clanging invited another round of head-turning and tut-tutting from other patrons.
“Lizzie, you know I love you, but I don’t want our child to think there’s anything wrong with being gay.”
“And you think I’ll teach our child that?”
“Not intentionally.”
“But I’m too much like my family—that’s what this is about, right?”
Not one of them looked at me. Doug suddenly seemed to find napkin origami captivating. Was he making a swan?
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay, what?” Sarah didn’t look sure what I meant.
“Okay. I see your point. What can I do…to improve?” I wasn’t just trying to appease her just so I could eat my meal. Spending “quality” time with Mom made me see signs that troubled even me. I didn’t want to be like her, not one bit.
“Uh…” Sarah tilted her head to Maddie and bit her lip. Did she fear I was about to lose it completely and go bonkers? Was this the calm before the storm?
Maddie was speechless.
“So, Doug, when is your sister’s baby due?” I asked, as I dipped my fork into Sarah’s salmon and tried it. I couldn’t stop my lips from puckering; it was horrendous. I grabbed Maddie’s orange juice to wash the hideous taste from my mouth. Everyone at the table let out a relieved laugh.
I raised the OJ glass. “Welcome to our crazy meals, Doug. Just you wait, these two will gang up on you soon.” I hoped so anyway. I could use some interference.
Everyone finally relaxed enough that I was able to enjoy the rest of my breakfast…that was, until Doug nudged my arm. “Don’t look now, but black clouds are rolling in.”
I jerked around in my chair and squinted at the sky. Sure enough, the sky was threatening a doozy of a storm.
“Do you want to pay up now?” Maddie asked, her tone sweeter than any of the cakes that tempted from behind the glassed desserts counter.
Nothing was going my way lately.
“How about I pick up the check? Will that suffice?”
She nodded triumphantly.
Chapter Six
My mother and I sat in the oncology waiting room. She was six weeks into her treatments, and her doctor wanted to have a chat. I didn’t think an oncologist should call up a patient and say, “Let’s have a chat.” It was too broad, too worrisome.
My mom sat so still in the chair that she resembled an ice sculpture. I couldn’t even hear her breathing. She stared straight ahead, prim and proper in her navy suit.
Another patient was slumped in a wheelchair off to the side, with a woman I suspected was her nurse. The patient was emaciated, wearing a scarf over her bald head and clothes that hung off a body that didn’t contain an ounce of fat. I wondered if that was why Mom stared straight ahead out the window, to avoid seeing the woman in the wheelchair.
“Oh, no!”
I glanced over my shoulder to see what the commotion was about. The nurse jumped out of her chair and strode, briskly but professionally, to the front desk. She leaned over the counter and said something to the lady.
The woman behind the desk bounded out of her seat, too, and disappeared behind a door. She returned promptly, carrying pads of some sort.
That was when I figured out what happened. The poor woman in the wheelchair had peed herself. I inhaled sharply.
Incontinence. I hadn’t considered that.
My mother rested her chin on her chest and briefly rubbed her eyes; then she resumed her statue pose. I thought I detected a tiny tear in the corner of her eye.
A nurse came to help wheel the woman out back, to get her out of her soiled clothes. No one spoke. Everyone did their best to pretend that everything was on the up-and-up. Not wanting to, but unable to control the urge, I glanced at the woman. She seemed clueless about what was going on. My heart startled and quivered in my chest. I feared if I opened my mouth, it would lunge out. Jesus! I wasn’t prepared for this.
“Mrs. Petrie,” another nurse called.
“You want me to come with?” I asked.
Mom shook her head and tried her best to march confidently into the inner bowels of the complex.
I texted Sarah, hoping she had a free period. No reply. She must have been in the middle of class. Maddie was my next choice. She texted right back, knowing I was with my mom. We exchanged a few texts: her, sympathetic, and me, relieved to stay busy and keep my mind off my surroundings. My mom didn’t need me to break down right now.
Two more patients, a man and a woman, checked in, and took their seat across from me. They didn’t sit next to each other, but that didn’t stop them from striking up a conversation.
“How’s it going?” asked the man.
“Not too bad, considering. And you? What’d the doc say last time?”
It was obvious they had run into each other before. I wondered when I would begin to recognize other patients.
“Well, I finally know. I’m terminal.” The man stated it bluntly. He looked almost relieved.
I couldn’t believe I was sitting in a room eavesdropping on this conversation. Weeks ago, everything in my life was going well. I was happily married to a wonderful woman who wanted to start a family. Sure, my friends drove me crazy, but I still loved them. I had published my first book, which had been well received by other historians, even if it wasn’t selling. Several universities had invited me to speak about my research, and my publisher was keen for me to complete my next project. A couple of universities were even trying to convince me to join their staff. Things were good.
But now, I was sitting in an oncology waiting room and had just witnessed a man tell a stranger he was dying.
What did it feel like, to know your time was severely limited? Was he in pain? Scared?
Was my mom hearing the same news during her “chat” with the doctor?
My instinct was to run. To call Dad’s assistant, have her arrange a car for my mom, and then to drive back to Fort Collins and pretend none of this was happening. To go back to my normal life—a life that didn’t involve a woman pissing herself, a man confirming his imminent death, and my mother…
I rocked in my seat, working up the courage to rise and bolt. Both hands firmly on the armrests of the chair, I began hauling my body up. I couldn’t deal. And why was I expected to? Mom had treated me like shit most of my life, but now that she needed me, I was expected to take care of her.
Fucking bullshit.
Where was my father?
My brother?
She didn’t need me; she needed someone to fill a role for her, to keep up appearances.
I stood. The man and woman nodded in my direction, and both smiled convincingly.
Fuck! Why couldn’t I be strong, like them?
I walked out of the office and headed down the hallway. At the end was a pop machine.
I wondered if Mom might want a Sprite to help settle her
stomach. I could use a drink. I put in a dollar and punched the button. The can crashed down onto the metal, the sound bringing me back to my senses. I slid in another dollar and hit the button for a Coke. After retrieving both cans, I walked back into the doctor’s office. I had to be strong.
My mother stood in the middle of the room, looking for me. I held up both cans, to explain my absence. She actually looked relieved that I was still there. She grabbed my arm and I led her to the parking lot.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted a drink,” I said, helping her into the passenger side of the car.
“Thank you.” She took the Sprite and popped the top.
Her thank you startled me. After settling into the driver’s seat I asked, “Would you like to stop anywhere on the way home?”
Mom shook her head. She stared out the window, avoiding my eyes. I wanted to ask what the doctor said, but I didn’t think Mom was ready to share.
I expected her to dismiss me in the driveway, as she had all the other times, but when I pulled up to the garage, she turned to me. “Would you come in and keep me company?”
I nodded, too shocked to speak.
When I walked into my front room later that afternoon, Maddie was sitting on the couch, watching some female talk show. She clicked the TV off and bounded over to me, wrapping me up in her arms. “I thought you could use a hug.” When she pulled away, she added, “Come on, I’m dying for Mexican food again. And I bet you could use a margarita or two. Sarah’s meeting us there after volleyball practice.”
I wanted to say thank you, but I didn’t have much of a voice. Not that Maddie expected me to say anything; friends didn’t.
Chapter Seven
By Friday night, I was beat. When Sarah barreled home late, after a night out with teachers from her school, I was in bed reading a book about a colon cancer survivor. That was my go-to whenever a new issue arose: I researched the hell out of it.
Sarah tilted her head to read the book title. “Any good?”
“Not sure yet.” I laid the book on my chest. “How was your night? Anyone end up with a lampshade on their head?”
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