Dating For Decades

by Tracy Krimmer

  She tightens her lips and nods at me, and I think this is her way of offering sympathy. “Sorry. I thought this was my mom’s room. She’s the next one over.”

  I watch as she leaves and disappears to the room next to me. She didn’t look distraught. She didn’t look like she wanted to get away from her family. She probably has a close relationship with her mother and wants to sit at her side while she’s in the hospital. She’s more than likely been at her mom’s side through whatever illness brought her here, and wishes more than anything she’ll be okay. Here I am, and I barely even know my mother. I can’t hold it in any longer. The tears start to fall from my eyes and drip down my nose into my mouth. I sniffle as I try to control myself from breaking down into a hyperventilating state.

  “All I ever wanted was a mother. I didn’t need to have the latest and greatest things or anything special. I only wanted you. And that was too difficult for you to give me. Between me and the drugs, you chose the drugs. When I left, you didn’t try to find me for how many years? Forgiving you, it’s too difficult. I can let go of it all. I have to. But I can’t forgive you.”

  After all these years, it feels good to be saying all of this. This is what I should’ve said to her at Sasha’s house, but didn’t. Am I a cruel person for choosing to tell her all of this now? Perhaps. But I need to lift this boulder off me. I’m suffocating. I need to find peace within myself.

  “I’m not saying I don’t love you. Those words never came out of my mouth. And I hope you’re okay with the kind of mother you have been, even if I’m not. And I hope that you’re happy in your new marriage, and you are truly clean and going forward can live a proper life. Right now, at least, I don’t think I can be a part of that. But maybe someday.”

  I stop what I’m saying, realizing she won’t be there. She can’t live a proper life. I can never be a part of her life. She’s not going to recover from this. Ever.

  What if by some miracle she did hear everything I said? I’m a horrible, horrible person and daughter and I should take it all back. I don’t want the last thing she hears from me to be that I hated her. I didn’t outright say that, but I didn’t say the kindest things either. I’m glad I shared my honest feelings with her, but at the same time, I should say something else.

  Forgiveness is freeing. There’s Sasha in my head again. She’ll forever be screaming this in my mind until I finally take a chance and do it. And mean it.

  The machine she is hooked up to is beeping at a more rapid pace. Should I call someone in here? Is she going to be okay? I peer out the glass window in front of me and one of the nurses points to the monitor and leaves the desk and comes into the room.

  “Is everything okay?” I rise from my chair and David follows behind the nurse.

  “I’m Bridget. I’ve been taking care of Claire.” She doesn’t hesitate when she comes to my mom’s bedside, and doesn’t give me a second glance. She’s focused on my mom and pressing buttons on the machines. A tinge of jealousy jolts through me when she places her hand on my mom’s forehead. “Everything is okay, Claire. I’m here. So is David.”

  And her absent daughter. I don’t fit into this equation. David is her life now. Or was. His eyes meet mine, and I know it’s time. He’s ready, or at least as much as he can be, because my mom is.

  This machine is what’s keeping her alive. She’s no longer in there. Her chest is rising and falling, but only because a machine is telling it to. David waited for me and it’s time. He needs to move on, as do I. She’s already gone, she’s waiting for us to let go.

  “I’m sorry, David. I can’t be here for the final …” I choke on my tears to keep them in. “Thank you for allowing me to see her.”

  I take a step back and stare at this woman, this person I could have given a second chance to and refused. I stare at her and think of what David said, how she would change it all if she could. She can’t change the past, but I can change the future and my response to this situation. I step out of the room and before I turn to leave, I touch my hand to the glass and mouth silently, hoping she hears me, “I forgive you.”

  Chapter

  Thirty

  What happens when someone dies? Does her soul leave her body and she floats above herself, waiting for her invitation into Heaven or does she listen to a list of all the ways she did people wrong on the long trip down to Hell? Does she reincarnate into a butterfly or a lamp or a spoon, or even a new human being? Is she able to watch the people around her, read their minds and understand their emotions?

  My mother died tonight, and I have no way of knowing if she heard me forgive her.

  My visit to her was supposed to be enlightening for me, a chance to say what I’ve been feeling and lift this burden off my shoulders. I told her I forgave her, and I really believe I do, but now I’m ridden with guilt. Guilt that I didn’t say these things sooner. Guilt that I thought these things at all.

  I didn’t go into work at all today. After witnessing death, as much of it as I allowed myself to watch, it sort of takes the energy out of you. I comforted David the best I could, as someone who barely knew the deceased despite our blood. He told me this was what she wanted. She didn’t want the doctors to spend time trying to revive her if she lost her battle. My mom was happy, and she and David loved each other. Even if things didn’t go well between us, she felt blessed she had an opportunity to see me at Sasha’s.

  And I threw spaghetti at her.

  It’s six in the evening, and I can’t remember the last time I ate. I think I had a handful of cheerios around noon when Sasha came by, and Shannon tried to force-feed me a bowl of chicken noodle soup at around four. I drank the broth, that’s it. I’m sitting on my couch and that’s all I’m capable of right now. I’ve cried — cried — like my eyes hurt and I’m so tired but they’re wide open. The stickiness of my tears is holding them hostage, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to close them again.

  I’m dried up. I don’t have any more tears to give. I’m ridden with shame and guilt, and I’m the worst person in the world. Sasha told me to go weeks ago to visit my mom, and I didn’t. Even when she texted me, she probably wouldn’t make it, what did I do? I waited three more days to go see her.

  My phone chimes next to me. I don’t think I’ve picked it up the entire day. I called Terrence and said I wouldn’t be coming into the office. He offered his sympathies, and I accepted, though I think David is owed them, not me. The rest of the day I’ve been sitting in practically the same spot, staring at a blank television, trying to process this.

  I pat the couch until the phone is underneath my hand. I’m expecting this time for it to be Aunt Ella or Aunt Dorothy, or maybe Sasha or Shannon again. The screen is flashing and it’s not any of them. It’s Keith and he wants to FaceTime.

  Keith. In all of this, I’ve forgotten about him. Add onto my list of ways I’m a shitty person that I didn’t even call my boyfriend to tell him my mother died. My face looks as though I’ve been crying for months, not hours, and I’m not much in the mood for talking. I can’t ignore him, though.

  I press the button to accept and when his face fills the screen, I forget for a moment about the pain, and my heart is together again. “Keith.” I can’t say his name with enthusiasm. I can barely move, much less talk. “What time is it in London?”

  “It’s one in the morning. I wanted to talk to you. I didn’t want to bother you at work and figured you would be home right now.” He squints and eyes my face up and down. “Are you crying? Did things not go well with your mom?”

  I bite my lower lip as I shake my head. “She … she … she’s gone.” That’s easier to say than the D word.

  “Cassie, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I … I’ve been sitting here on the couch all day, thinking. I said mean things to her before she … well they weren’t the kinds of things daughters say to their mothers before they pass away. I’m such an asshole.” I can’t keep eye contact with him. I’ll cry even more.

/>   “You’re not an asshole. A lot of people wouldn’t have even gone and you did.”

  “I forgave her, Keith.” I bring my attention back to him. He’s sitting up in his bed, his head against the headboard. “I said the words before they took her off the respirator. But she didn’t hear me.”

  “You don’t know that. You went, and that’s the important thing. I’m hopping on the first flight in the morning and coming home.”

  “No, you’re not.” I sit up for the first time in hours, and my tired back almost forces me back down again. “Stay with your family. There’s nothing you can do here.” I don’t want to be a burden on him.

  “Yes, there is. I can be there for you, offer you comfort, and attend the funeral with you.”

  “There isn’t going to be one.”

  “What?” The space between his eyebrows shortens. “Why not?”

  “She didn’t want one. She’ll be cremated, and David is taking her ashes. You have to understand that she wasn’t the most favorite person in our family.”

  “That doesn’t mean no one would attend her funeral.”

  “It’s exactly what it means. Sasha, David, and possibly me and my aunts. That’s it.” I think about when I die. I can’t say I’d have many more people at mine. “Besides, this is what she wanted. She and David discussed it. She has it in her will. So no, don’t come back.”

  He’s fixated on my face, and sympathy is written all over his. “No. I’m coming, Cassie. Nothing can keep me away from me when you need me.”

  I don’t expect him to come. I don’t expect anyone to do anything for me. I can’t believe I’ve found someone who cares for me so much he’s willing to cross the Atlantic at a moment’s notice to be with me.

  I don’t deserve this.

  Chapter

  Thirty-One

  A little more than twenty-four hours later, I’m at the airport, picking Keith up. He wanted to take a cab, but I insisted. While he spent fourteen hours on a plane, I spent those same hours trying to sleep. I tossed and turned all night, incapable of falling into a slumber. Anytime I closed my eyes, there lay my mother, machines attached to her, unable to communicate. It’s funny how many times as a kid I was in her presence when she was so doped up she passed out on the floor. This wasn’t the same. Not even close.

  When Keith meets me at the front entrance, he drops his bags down and runs to me. I don’t move. My favorite black boots are glued to the ground, unable to process that this man came to me, came to rescue me like my Knight in Shining Armor, something I never in my life thought I wanted or deserved.

  “Cassie,” he says when he reaches me, throws his arms around me and presses his lips to mine as though it’s the last kiss we’ll ever share. The familiarity of his kiss breathes me back to life, and I embrace him too. I never want to let him go. When we pull apart, I bury my head in his chest and sob.

  “I’m sorry, Keith,” I mumble into his jacket, and he holds me tighter.

  “It’s okay. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He kisses the top of my head, and I hold him for a moment longer before we grab his bags and go back to my car.

  “You didn’t need to pick me up.” He slams his car door, and I flip on the seat warmer for him. Once he clicks his seatbelt in, I pull away from the curb.

  “Yes, I did. I had to get out of my house. I had enough of that place.” I crack the window and inhale loudly. “The fresh air is good. I’m only sucking in the circulated heat in the house. This is nice.”

  “Are you okay? Did you make any plans to spread the ashes with your mom’s husband?”

  David asked me before I left the hospital. I think he wanted to wait to approach me, but I sensed he wasn’t sure he would see me again. He probably won’t. I didn’t know him at all. I only learned his last name yesterday. Even if he was married to my mom, we hardly have a connection or a reason to keep in touch. “No. I told him he can do it. Find somewhere special that they loved, or keep them in a beautiful urn. I left the choice up to him. I shouldn’t be involved.”

  Keith doesn’t respond, and I think he realizes I’m right. I may have been stubborn about seeing her and people may have fought like mad for me to swallow my pride and visit her, but the line is drawn here. “When are you going back to work?”

  “Terrence doesn’t want me back to the office for two weeks. Two weeks. Can you believe that?” I put my attention to him for a moment to gauge a reaction, but he doesn’t seem too surprised. “There is so much to be done at work. It’s the one thing I can always count on to be there. Regardless of what’s going on in life, I’ll always have an email to respond to, a coworker to assist, or somebody who needs my expertise. It’s nice to feel needed and wanted.”

  Keith reaches his hand out and rests it on my knee, moving it up slightly on my thigh. He doesn’t move it too far up to be sexual, but it’s not far enough down to be a friendly gesture. “I need and want you, Cassie. Don’t forget that.”

  And it is so easy to forget. This romance between us, I’m not used to it. We’ve been together only a few weeks, and it’s the longest I’ve dated anyone, I think, ever. Being part of a couple is different for me. I need some time with it. “Am I taking you straight home?” We hadn’t discussed if we were going to do anything first, or maybe tonight would be the first night for us to be intimate. I want and need the comfort right now. Before he left for London I made the decision when he came back I wasn’t going to hold out. I want to take things slow, but a few weeks is slow enough for me.

  “Do you want to go on a date?” He removes his hand from my knee. “I mean, are you up for a date?”

  “Yes. Please. Take me out and show me a good time. Anything to take my mind off of things.”

  “Hm.” He rubs his chin and I now notice he hasn’t shaven in some time. I kind of like the scruff. “How about ice skating?”

  Eek. The one time I went ice skating I fell pretty hard and split open the skin by my knee pretty bad. I didn’t need stitches, though I have a scar. “Like on skates and everything?”

  “That’s usually what ice skating entails.”

  I love to hate his attitude. “I’m not the best at it.” Maybe I can think of something else. Would he like laser tag like I did with Lucas? No, scratch that. Bad idea to do something with Keith that I did with Lucas, unless it’s sex.

  “You don’t have to be. I can help you.”

  He will, too. I’m positive he’ll hold my hand and make sure I don’t fall and hurt myself like I did when I was a little girl. “I’m not sure about this.”

  “What’s there to be sure about? It’s ice skating. It’s two people going out in the cold and having a good time together. Maybe we can get some hot chocolate afterward.” He crosses his legs and twiddles his thumbs up.

  I’m being standoffish. He wants to take me out. I should let him. Ice skating could be romantic, and I’m in desperate need of romance.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Two

  I don’t completely despise the cold. Winter is at the bottom as far as favorite seasons ago. I tolerate it. I’ve lived in Wisconsin my entire life, and I honestly can’t imagine living somewhere where I never see snow. Snow and the cold have become such a part of my life that I would miss it if it were gone. Besides, winter is the best month to wear the cutest boots and find the most adorable jackets to keep me warm. And don’t even get me started on the purses. The more pockets, the better.

  The place to ice skate is Red Arrow Park, the same spot we went after the awards ceremony. I exit the interstate and maneuver through the one-way streets. “You must be exhausted.” The few times I’ve been out of my time zone have given me massive jet lag. I can only imagine what being out of the country does to you.

  He opens his mouth and a yawn comes out. “Come on now, don’t mention anything even related to sleep. I am tired, but spending time with you is much more important than sleep.”

  My pulse races as I hold a grin back. I don’t want to come across as a giddy sch
ool girl, though I very much feel that way when I am around him. “If I weren’t out with you I’d either be sitting on my couch moping or trying to find a way to work without Terrence knowing I’m doing so.”

  “Do you work all the time?”

  “Not all the time. Maybe most of the time.” We exchange smiles. “Though, in the wake of everything, I think it may be time to reevaluate a few things.”

  “That’s good. I believe it’s important to take a step back every so often and observe everything in life with a fresh viewpoint. You don’t want to stay in a constant state of standing still. Get moving, change things, mix things up. You never know what you’ll discover and what you like to do.”

  “Is that how you became an electrician?”

  “As a kid, I loved building things. The wires and light bulbs and the science behind it all fascinated me. This path felt natural.”

  “Do you know what doesn’t seem natural?” Keith shakes his head as I pull into a parking spot a block away from the rink. “The fact that I didn’t have to park in a garage and found a spot this close.”

  “I suppose that doesn’t happen very often.”

  Downtown Milwaukee is bumper-to-bumper cars parked on the side of the streets and during special events the parking lots fill up quickly and it cost a lot of money. Scoring a spot where we did makes me want to buy a lottery ticket. Although with Keith beside me, I may have already won.

  ”Stay right there. I’ll get the door.”

  He surprises me with this gesture, especially since I’m the one driving. I think back to all the dates I’ve been on in my life and not one man has ever opened my car door for me. I could definitely get used to this.

  “Thank you very much,” I say with appreciation as he takes my hand and helps me step onto the curb, his hand supporting my lower back.

  He shuts the door and doesn’t let go of my hand. I feel a little silly holding his hand. I don’t think I’ve done that since high school. At the same time, it’s kind of nice. Though we’re both wearing gloves, the pressure of his hand on mine is helping keep me warm. We’re like the teenagers already on the ice, young and in love.