“Dave, my mother tells me you have an antique shop,” she said, communication better than her thoughts.
Dave said, “That’s right.”
She looked out the window again. She thought she was difficult to talk to. “I come across antique-looking junk occasionally, and that is probably the only time I’m sorry I don’t have my own place,” Lynn said.
“Alice tells me you live on the street,” Dave said unabashedly.
Alice gasped and grabbed his hand. “Dave!” she said, scolding. “That was private.”
“Oh, I’m sorry!” he said. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”
Lynn laughed. “It’s not, so don’t worry. Mother, I know you tell people you have a homeless daughter, okay? It’s a fact. We have enough pink elephants in the car as it is.”
Dave visibly bristled, taking it personally.
Lynn saw it. “I’m not ashamed of how I live. I chose it. It’s what I want.”
Alice turned slightly to look at her daughter. “I’m not ashamed of you,” she said. What she was ashamed of was her role in raising someone who would choose to live in that way, but she didn’t say so.
“While we’re on the topic of living, I’ve got breast cancer, as you know, and I’m having surgery on Tuesday. It’s supposed to be a biopsy, but they’ll do a frozen section of the tissue, and if they can’t get completely clear margins, she’s going to go ahead and do a mastectomy. It’s not the way they usually do it anymore, but since I’m homeless, they got a special dispensation from the Pope, or President Bush, or Governor Christy. Someone said it was okay. I guess they’re afraid I’ll take off and won’t get the rest of my treatment if they don’t lop it all off right then.”
“It’s Obama,” Alice corrected. “And Jack Markell is governor of Delaware.”
“Obama who?”
“President Obama,” she clarified.
“Oh, right,” Lynn said. “I know that.”
“You can stay with me if you want.” Alice said.
No one was offering the money to put her in a cheap hotel. That was an alternative she might consider if John or Faye would come through with the cash. They drove in silence until arriving back in Deptford. Alice waited in the car while Dave walked around to open her door.
“Mother, open up,” Lynn said, behind her.
“Just be patient. This is the way we do it,” Alice said.
In a second, Dave had the door open and was offering Alice his hand. Once she got out, he shoved the seat forward and offered a hand to Lynn. But Lynn wasn’t having it.
“Step aside, please,” she said, and he did move back, holding the seat forward for her.
They walked to the building together, but Lynn saw John’s car pulling around the building. “I’m going to see John’s kids, Mother.”
Alice watched her walk away, worried about her stability and the impending trauma of the viewing.
“Let’s wait,” Alice said to Dave. They stood to the side of the entrance, but Alice knew she could be avoiding the inevitable—having to see Dougie in his open casket.
Dave put his arm around her shoulders. “You probably should be inside, to greet people,” he said.
She looked up at his face. “Why do I have to do it?”
He took her hand and pulled her gently toward the door. “You’re the grandmother. April might be inside alone. Lynn can take care of herself.”
Alice considered what he meant. She’d rarely taken the position of the matriarch at her husband’s funeral or her children’s weddings; some other, more powerful female stepping forward to fill the gap when she was unable or unwilling to. Maybe now was the time to change the way she always did things. Dave was correct. She was the grandmother. It was her daughter, April, who was going to go through hell in the coming weeks. She better take a stand now and assume a leadership role before someone like Diane Cabrini stood in that position and helped her daughter lose a homicide conviction.
~ ~ ~
Inside the funeral home, an explosion was preparing to go off. Todd Cabrini listened to the murmurings of his mother and sisters through the night, and by Saturday morning, he was out for blood. He was pacing like a maniac when Alice walked through the door.
“Where’s April?” he shouted. “She knew we were supposed to be here together by nine-thirty to view Dougie’s body.
Alice went right to her son-in-law and grabbed him in a bear hug, the tall man looking incredulous at the tiny woman trying to tackle him.
“Oh, Todd, I am so sorry!” Alice said, starting to cry again for the umpteenth time. “I’m here to help you until she arrives. Faye is always late.” It was a lie, but it took the heat off April. And Todd lost it, again, bending over at the waist in order to embrace Alice, putting his big head on her tiny shoulder.
Dave stepped in and encircled both with his long, skinny arms, shielding their bodies from view of the door as mourners started to arrive. He’d never had a moment’s doubt that Alice was the one for him, but having done a lot of psychological work in the past, he was astonished that such a large group of people could be so unenlightened. They were all completely out of touch with their feelings. He was preparing to steer them over to the wall when he saw April come through the door, holding on to Mark. Lynn walked in behind her, holding onto Todd Junior’s hand, followed by the rest of the family. Faye and Bill were together, and all the cousins were intertwined, commiserating. Beth took Mark from April as she approached Todd. Alice pulled her into the hug. Dave wondered if he’d survive the day.
The viewing and funeral were accomplished without family drama aside from the earnest sadness over the wasted death of a child. The children in attendance were heartbroken, clinging to each other, helping out with the young ones. Faye and Bill tolerated each other for the benefit of their children. It would be the last public appearance they’d make together that summer. Surprisingly, Lynn was the one who seemed to hold it together the best. Dave knew it wasn’t because she didn’t have a relationship with the child; he didn’t and yet could barely hold back the tears. Lynn was mentally ill; it was so obvious to Dave, watching her interact with her siblings, responding to them. He watched Alice watching Lynn. He wondered if she had known all along that her daughter was sick or if it had appeared in adulthood? Not wanting to upset Alice, he knew that if he waited long enough, the answers to every question he had would be forthcoming.
At ten, the funeral director attempted to get everyone lined up for the receiving line at the casket. April and Todd hovered over Dougie’s body, crying, amazed at how good he looked. Lynn stood off to the side and willed them not to bend over the body, poised to kiss it as she’d seen done on TV. Kissing a corpse was the worst. It was germy and, worse, disrespectful. She bit her lip to keep from calling out. Don’t do it, April! He’s not there!
When the children came through, Faye and Beth tried to keep them from crowding around their cousin, but it was a lost effort. The older girls were despondent, calling out his name and crying, clinging to each other.
Todd’s family came through and tried to be civil. Alice appreciated what it must have cost Diane Cabrini, who was all about appearances, to face her friends. News was out already; Vicky heard it on the Philadelphia stations at eleven the night before. “Deptford woman runs stop sign, son is killed. April Cabrini, niece of restaurateur Frank Cabrini, ran a stop sign Thursday morning, resulting in a crash that killed her seven-year-old son, Douglas. Her blood alcohol was .02. In the state of New Jersey, any detectable blood alcohol under the legal limit of .08 can be considered driving under the influence.”
Vicky told Alice this news with a lilt to her voice. “Since when does April drink during the day?”
Alice ignored her. But she knew her sister’s curiosity was the tip of the iceberg. If Vicky was talking about it, her late husband’s family was probably engrossed in it like a soap opera. The thought was twirling around in her head, making her nauseous and giving her a headache, when Faye nudged her hard
in the ribs.
“Oh, Jesus Christ, don’t look now, but Daddy’s family just walked in,” she hissed through her teeth.
Of course, Alice looked right up and into the eyes of her mother-in-law, decked out in a black suit and hat to match. Hilda Bradshaw might have been seventy-eight, but she was still formidable. Alice had to hand it to Faye, and she remembered to thank her later for not stepping out of the receiving line to greet her grandmother. She would stay glued to Alice’s side, defying Hilda to say anything mean. As it worked out, the Bradshaws were very kind, sad about Dougie, regretful that they’d never reached out to April or her children. If they’d heard the news, they weren’t saying anything at the funeral. They left without saying good-bye, but Alice’s heart would pound a little harder for the rest of the day because of them.
It was finally over. Little Dougie was laid to rest. Alice felt empty, wanting to run away from the crowd of sympathizers, but April wanted to go to Diane’s to be with Todd after all, so she felt like they had no choice but to follow along. They’d stay as long as they had to, thanking every one and supporting April, but after forty-five minutes, John came to retrieve his mother.
“Okay, let’s head back to Cedar Springs,” he said, his jaw clenched.
Beth was pale and shaky, and Faye was snapping at her children. Lynn and Dave stood off to the side, patiently waiting for someone to make the move. Alice started the exodus, telling Diane they were headed home, kissing April but not making excuses. They just wanted out of there. No one was saying much in any of the cars headed south. John’s children were starting to balk at having to go to Alice’s, but John nipped it in the bud.
“If anyone wants to ever again play with the X-Box or PlayStation, you’ll shut up and sit with your hands folded at your grandmother’s house.”
They got to Alice’s. Bill pulled up behind them, the Visiglio children spilling out of the car, boxing each other and screaming like always. The chaos would continue for a while. Dave turned the television on and was trying to find something the younger kids might enjoy. John tried not to stare at him as he stood over the television. He critiqued every movement Dave made, looking for telltale signs of femininity.
“Drink this,” Beth said, putting his favorite beer in his hand. “I’ll drive.”
Alice came out of her bedroom after changing her clothes. John watched her go to Dave and put her hand on his back, pointing out something to him on the remote control. She walked into the kitchen and spoke with her daughter Faye, then Beth, and moved to the counter to do something with the food Vicky laid out for their luncheon. She looked up, sensing someone staring at her, and smiled when she saw it was her son.
“Hey, Johnny,” she said.
“Hey, Mom,” John answered. He knew he wouldn’t be able to leave for home until he’d talked to her. He didn’t care about Dave yet; so asking him for the truth seemed shallow and unnecessary. “Mom, got a minute?” But he was already walking toward her.
“Yes, what’s up?” she said.
He pushed her toward her bedroom door again. “I need to speak with you in private,” he said, avoiding his wife’s eye.
Alice allowed the push, sure he was going to reprimand her for going off with Dave. It would be the consequence of her wild living of late.
“Okay, we’re alone now. What’s up?” she repeated.
John paced in the small room. He tried not to look for signs that Dave was sharing his mother’s bed, and he didn’t see any evidence. He turned to look at her. Was she even capable of lying?
“Mom, is there anything you want to say to me about Dave?” There, he thought, give her an opening.
Alice frowned. “What do you want to know? I don’t have anything to hide.”
He walked up to her and took her by the upper arms, looking down into her eyes. His mother’s eyes were still beautiful. They were starting to shrink, like all eyes did in old age, but the fiery turquoise specks that flecked through her irises were still there. Her arms were thin and strong. But she was still aging. She needed protection from her own naivety.
“There’s something not right about him,” John said gently. He didn’t want Alice to get defensive. He could feel her relaxing under the pressure of his hands.
“I feel it, too,” she said. “It isn’t very specific, is it?”
It was something elusive, too elusive for her to discover, he thought.
“I know what it is, Mother. But I don’t want you to get mad at me if I tell you,” he looked down into her eyes again.
She grabbed his arms. “What is it? Come on, John! Tell me,” she said urgently.
John licked his lips, but hesitated, not sure how to word it or if his mother would be devastated with the news. “Dave’s a woman. Or he used to be a woman,” John said.
Alice scrunched up her face in confusion. “No way,” she said. “We had sex. I know he’s a man.”
“Well, he may well have had sex reassignment surgery,” John said. “His name was Donna Jensen, class of ’91, Ocean City High School, just like he told me. The picture is definitely of Dave, but as a woman.”
Alice moved away from her son. She walked to the window obscured with solid packed pine and rose bush, but if she looked up, she could see the expanse of bright blue sky. Dave a woman? She remembered seeing the outline of his erect penis in the shadowy hotel room. It’s size astonished her. Was that possible in a surgical facsimile of a penis?
“What do I do now?” she asked, turning around to look at John. He looked so distressed. “There’s a house full of mourners. I feel like going back to bed.”
“Sorry, Mom. There wasn’t going to be a good time to tell you, but I guess it could’ve waited.” He imagined trying to function with the information hanging over his head. “Does it matter to you?”
Alice thought about it for a moment. She liked Dave a lot. She’d risked alienating her entire family by disappearing with him, risked her life by taking off with him. He was kind and generous, and he fulfilled a need she’d ignored for a long time—to have someone in her life who thought she was special.
“No, I guess it really doesn’t. Of course, I’m going to have to confront him now, which sucks. Thanks a lot, Johnny. I can always count on my kids to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
He snickered out loud. “Yeah, well you’ll get over it. At least we can start thinking about him as a person instead of wondering what’s wrong with him.”
“Is that what you were doing?” Alice asked.
“Pretty much,” John answered. “I couldn’t rest without knowing who the person was that had so much influence on my mother that she would ride a motorcycle with him across the friggin’ country.”
Now it was Alice’s turn to snicker. “I couldn’t wait to run away,” she admitted. “Someday I’ll tell you what led up to my departure. It was comedic, come to think of it. I got my feelings hurt, and the opportunity to punish everyone presented itself. At the time, I think I just needed to be away from it all.”
“Mother, you don’t need to justify it. Do you know what Lynn said? She said, ‘I’m glad Alice is finally doing something for herself.’”
“She did? Lynn? What are we going to do about her?” Alice knew Lynn didn’t want to stay there while she recovered and had radiation and chemo and whatever else they had in store for her.
“I’m not sure. I think I have to pay for an apartment,” John said. “I can probably find some public assistance with her diagnosis, but it won’t be much.”
Alice couldn’t fathom what work it would take to get Lynn into an apartment. She was grateful for John’s care for Lynn.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It won’t be much, Mother. It won’t be more than an efficiency apartment in one of those hotels along the strip. They rent to homeless families; surely someone being treated for cancer qualifies,” he said.
Contemplating the bleak existence of recovering alone in a crappy hotel room made Alice sick. She sat down on
the edge of her bed, trying to stay focused. Why did they get together in the first place? And then she remembered. Dougie. Alice put her hands over her face and began to weep.
“Dougie,” she whispered.
John came to her and, not saying anything, sat on the edge of her bed and put his arm around her shoulders. There was a knock on the door, and Faye opened it a crack to peek in. She saw her mother and brother sitting side by side, crying, and joined them, sitting on the other side of Alice. The rest of the family crowded in for the final cry out for Doug.
Chapter 26
The day from hell came to an end for Alice. Everyone finally left. Hilda Bradshaw didn’t stop by, and if she and her entourage went to Diane’s for the wake luncheon, Alice wasn’t going to worry about it. They could say whatever they wanted about her now. She’d been alone without their help or friendship all these years. Vicky was the last to go, staying behind to clean up the inevitable mess nine children are capable of making.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, kissing Alice on the cheek. “It was nice meeting you; I think,” she said to Dave.
They stood in the doorway, watching her get into her car and drive off. Alice couldn’t suppress the sigh of relief as she watched the car go down the road in a cloud of dust.
“Why is family so exhausting?” Alice asked.
Dave stepped back as she closed the door and locked it, just in case someone forgot something and came back for it. Sitting down in the closest chair, she discovered she wanted to be alone. She wished Dave would just leave, but then she’d be stuck without a car. That was what it boiled down to. Being in a relationship wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. In spite of her tired apathy, she wanted to ask Dave about his gender. It didn’t make much sense for her to try to have meaningful communication with him with this new knowledge. “Sit down. I’ll make us tea.”
Alice's Summertime Adventure Page 21