by Robbi McCoy
A couple of days passed as Cassie recovered and Lauren alternated with Eric visiting her in the hospital, bringing her books and food treats. Meanwhile, Eric and Lauren were becoming friends, it seemed, sharing meals and a home, united over their mutual concern for Cassie’s welfare.
Lauren hadn’t spoken to Cassie of love since she’d regained consciousness. Cassie was preoccupied with pain and recovery. A little part of Lauren worried she had knocked the love right out of her head when she fell. Life was like that. Life sought out irony. It would not have surprised her if Cassie had quit loving her at the exact same moment she realized how much she loved Cassie.
They spent their time together watching TV or talking about Cassie’s health or stories in the news. For the time being, it was enough. Cassie was herself again. But Lauren had changed. Outwardly, nothing was different. She was happy in Cassie’s company, as she always had been. She was content just to talk to her and they seemed never to run out of things to say. But there were new thoughts in Lauren’s mind, thoughts she had never before allowed herself. As she sat at Cassie’s bedside holding her hand, she wondered what it would be like to wake up beside her every morning and fall asleep in her arms at night. After a lifetime never imagining such things about anyone other than Faith, Lauren wasn’t surprised these thoughts took their time coalescing.
For the time being, she kept them to herself, focusing instead on light-hearted topics like the daily routine at the beach house. Cassie found the idea of her son’s cohabitation with Lauren vastly more entertaining than it actually was and she wanted to know every detail.
“Which one of you has dominion over the kitchen?” Cassie asked.
“He does breakfast. As you know, I’ve never been a morning person. But other than that, I’m winning the battle of chef a la maison.”
“So what does poor Eric do all day if he’s booted out of the kitchen?”
“Oh, he’s keeping busy. He’s very handy around the house.”
“I wouldn’t think there’d be so many things that need fixing around there.”
“No, there aren’t. He’s moved on to decorative types of things. He’s installing some solar lights along the front path, for instance.”
“Okay, but no pink flamingoes.” Cassie pointed threateningly at Lauren, narrowing her eyes.
Lauren laughed and grabbed her hand, pressing it momentarily between both of hers. She was happy to see Cassie so full of good humor.
One of the regular aides, Eugenia, entered the room with the lunch tray. Lauren released Cassie’s hand and cleared a spot on the tray table. Eugenia was an older woman with gray hair pulled into a severe bun. She was friendlier than most, but also garrulous and spoke loudly as if everyone were hard of hearing. That was probably a good thing for a hospital staffer. Lauren found her almost impossible to talk to because she never seemed to expect her conversations to be two-sided, but Cassie just grinned whenever she was in the room. She got a kick out of her, apparently.
“Hello to you,” Eugenia said emphatically with a mild Italian accent. “You’re looking good today, Miss Cassie.”
“Feeling much better,” Cassie said.
Eugenia turned to Lauren as she set down the tray. “You’ll be taking her home any day now. Good as new. But don’t let her do any housework. You do everything. You make her rest. A bump on the head is a nasty thing. Takes a long time to heal. Which one of you cooks? Are you the cook?”
Eugenia turned from Cassie to Lauren. Taken off guard, Lauren sputtered at this question.
“She’s the cook,” Cassie affirmed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “She’s a phenomenal cook!”
“Oh, that’s good.” Eugenia stared almost threateningly at Lauren. “So you make sure you give her lots of vegetables. Fresh green and orange like spinach and carrots. And garlic. Lots of garlic. Garlic cures everything. Takes down swelling. My nonna ate raw garlic every single day of her life and she lived to be a hundred. Of course, nobody would go near her, but, eh, that’s life. Everything’s got the good and the bad.” Eugenia shrugged using both hands. “And tomatoes, any way you want ‘em. If she doesn’t like spinach, you make her lasagna. Put the spinach and a whole head of garlic in there and she’ll eat it. Lots of marinara, some pecorino romano or Parmigiano Regiano, whatever you like. You like porcini? Put some in. Nothing fancy.”
Lauren stared pointedly at the meal in front of them as Eugenia lifted the lid to reveal some unrecognizable meat under brown gravy, a scoop of instant potatoes and canned corn.
“I know, I know,” Eugenia said. “Doesn’t matter. At home you can do it right. You want my recipe for involtini di melanzane? I come from Abruzzo, so it’s a little spicy. Ah, nevermind. You know what you’re doing. Good. You know how to take care of this little one. So I’ll butt out.”
Eugenia was out of the room before she finished her sentence, so there was no opportunity to respond. Cassie laughed with delight.
“Actually,” said Lauren, “I wouldn’t mind seeing that recipe.”
“You understood what she was talking about? You don’t speak Italian, do you?”
“Oh, no. I just speak food.”
Cassie picked up the spoon and prodded the meat on the tray as if trying to rouse it. “I’ll ask her for the recipe next time she comes in. Tell me in English so I know what to ask for.”
“Eggplant rolls.”
Cassie nodded and took a bite of the potatoes. Lauren reached over and picked up the Jell-O cup, pulling off the foil cover. Then she opened the pint of milk. By now she knew which containers Cassie needed help with.
“Does she think we’re a couple?” Lauren asked.
“Sounds like it. Sorry about that. I can tell her we’re not if you want.”
“No, that’s not necessary. It doesn’t bother me.” Lauren patted Cassie’s leg through her blankets. “It doesn’t bother me at all.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The next day, Lauren talked Eric into going with her to a wild mushroom farm, a trip that would take most of the day. Dressed in T-shirts, shorts and sunglasses, they stopped by the hospital before they left to make a quick check on Cassie, finding her in excellent spirits.
“Now you’ll see for yourself,” she warned Eric, “what crazy places this woman has been dragging me around to.”
“Are you kidding?” Eric said, giving her a hug. “This is going to be awesome!”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “You two were meant for each other.”
It was a two-hour drive to the mushroom farm, one of the destinations Lauren and Cassie hadn’t made it to when she’d cut her visit short. She was glad to fit it in now. It would complete her research. Eric drove, chatting amiably the entire way. Lauren was enjoying his company. As much as he reminded her of Cassie, it would have been surprising if she hadn’t liked him.
At the conclusion of the tour of the mushroom-growing beds, their group was routed through the gift shop. “Do you want anything?” Lauren asked.
“Yeah. I’d like to get one of those blocks with the spores in it to take home. We can grow some shitakes right there in the kitchen window. It’ll be cool.”
“Okay. I think I’ll get a pound of the fresh ones. Maybe we can do an omelet or something.”
Eric nodded vigorously. “I’m definitely in the mood for something mushroomy.”
After they made their purchases, they drove back. Eric was not as talkative this time, at least not at first. About halfway home, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about how I’ve never given my mother a chance to tell me her side of the story.”
Lauren made a noise to indicate she was listening. Eric was looking ahead at the road.
“And, you know, how she suffered too. I think my father was really bitter for a long time. What happened completely shattered his dream of a happy life. It was a simple dream and he thought he’d found it, marrying her and starting a family. I’ll bet you’ve never seen our family photos of their wedding and the first
couple years after that, the three of us looking just like a fairy tale happy ending.”
“No, I haven’t seen them.”
“Right. Dad kept them. He said Mom wasn’t interested in things like family photos. But, you know, whenever I visited, she took tons of pictures of me.” Eric shook his head. “That was always how Dad explained her. He said she wanted to live a life of carefree self-indulgence. Irresponsible and selfish. I guess he really believed that was why she left us, that family didn’t mean anything to her.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I never questioned it when I was a kid.” He knit his thick eyebrows together. “Now, it seems unlikely. Oversimplified anyway. My dad just couldn’t find any other way to explain why she would leave. People didn’t understand homosexuality back then, that it wasn’t a choice. Well, people like my dad didn’t, anyway. The most charitable explanation for a lot of people was that it was a mental illness.”
“A lot of people still think that.”
Eric glanced at her, a concerned look on his face. “I don’t.”
“No, I know you don’t,” Lauren assured him. “I could tell that from the day we met. It’s pretty obvious your problem with your mother has nothing to do with her sexual orientation. It’s your idea that she’s indifferent to you that’s the problem.”
“My whole point of view came from Dad. And she never said a word about any of it. She didn’t even talk about Dad or the time when we were a family. I assumed it wasn’t something she thought about because it never came up. I thought it wasn’t important to her. I do remember wishing she would talk about it, though. At least to say she was sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
Eric glanced at her, looking slightly tragic. “For leaving, for not wanting me.”
As they came into Coos Bay, they turned west toward the sea, not yet visible, passing a pasture of grazing cows. That’s all anybody ever wants, Lauren thought, to feel wanted. Especially a child. It must have hurt him very deeply to think his mother didn’t want him.
“I find it ironic,” Lauren said, “that I’ve always thought of Cassie as so easy to talk to, so open and candid, and to you, her son, she’s a virtual stranger.”
“You have some special connection with her,” Eric observed.
“And you don’t? If the two of you really opened up to one another, I think you’d find you’re very similar.”
Lauren could smell the ocean before it came into view as they headed south on the coast road toward town.
Eric turned to look at her briefly, his dark eyebrows knit together, a searching expression on his face. “You and Mom seem so good together. I’m sort of surprised you don’t, you know, really get together. You’re obviously close. You told me you love her. She’s available. You’re available. What am I not getting?”
Lauren shook her head. “It’s me. I’ve been a dimwit.”
Eric glanced at her, looking confused.
“Or afraid,” she said.
“Afraid of what?”
Lauren sighed. “I think I’ve been afraid of being happy again. Afraid of giving up grieving.”
Seeing an electronics store up ahead, Lauren said, “Hey, can you stop at that store? There’s something I want to get.”
He turned in to the parking lot. “Afraid of being happy? You know, I think I know what you mean. You get so used to feeling a certain lousy way you almost prefer it. I see that with the kids I work with. They’re so adaptable. They get used to some crappy stuff. You try to tell them about a new family, what it will be like with home-cooked meals, safety, toys. They don’t care. They want what they’re used to.”
“It happens all the time. The familiar is the most comforting thing of all.”
Lauren considered how happy she’d felt last week as she’d gradually let herself live in the moment with Cassie. She remembered too the fear that had come to her at night before sleep, the fear of losing her familiar heartache and the struggle that resulted in her mind. Letting Cassie into her heart couldn’t help but displace Faith, at least from the everyday, despite what Cassie had said about the infinite scope of love. Love has no ability to transcend time…or death, not in any tangible way. It was hard to think that Faith would recede and fade into the past and become less real. But there isn’t any choice about that when someone dies. Not if you want to find ways to keep living. Maintaining the sharp edge of a lost love requires living in a fantasy, in the past where you both once lived. You can visit that place, but you can’t really live there, not indefinitely, not like Lauren had been trying to do.
Eric pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine, then turned to Lauren with soulful eyes. “I guess you’ve gotten used to living with pain.”
“Yes. I’ve been feeling pretty bad for a long time now. I’ve been pretending to go on with life, but I’ve been hanging onto the ache. I think I’m ready to let that go now...if Cassie still wants me.”
He put a hand on her shoulder and looked directly into her eyes. “I hope she does.”
As they exited the car, he said, “So what are we here for anyway? You need some memory cards or something?”
“You’ll see,” Lauren said. “A welcome-home present for your mom.”
Chapter Forty
Eric held the front door open for Cassie as Lauren waited inside, tense with excitement.
“Welcome home!” she called as Cassie stepped over the threshold.
She looked wonderful, alert and happy, with color in her cheeks. She held out her good arm to Lauren, who ran over and gave her a careful hug. Then she heaved a big sigh and said, “I’m so glad to be back. And I love the fence and mailbox. They look brand new. And the flowers, they’re gorgeous. Everything looks so welcoming.”
“Eric’s been busy around here,” Lauren said. “He’s also put up cabinets in the garage. We’ve got everything very well organized. You can park a car in there now.”
It was then that Cassie noticed the music, playing low. “What is that?” she asked and they all stood still to listen until Cassie recognized the song. “‘Buttons and Bows’!”
She ran over to the stereo to look at the new turntable as it played a scratchy seventy-eight. Then she turned to look at the others with her face full of joy.
“This is incredible!” she said, turning back to the record. “I haven’t heard this song since I was a child. It sounds exactly the same.”
“Well, it should,” Lauren said with a laugh. “It’s the same record.”
“I have no idea who Dinah Shore is,” Eric said, “but I have to say I’ve been enjoying these songs. We played a few earlier just to try out the machine. I insisted we hear ‘Mairsy Dotes’ because it’s been intriguing me ever since I read the label. And I still don’t get it.”
Cassie laughed, her big laugh that showed all her teeth. “This was your idea, Lauren, wasn’t it?”
Lauren nodded, completely satisfied with Cassie’s reaction. “Eric helped me hook it up.”
They arranged Cassie on the living room couch with a small work table, a reading lamp, TV remote and a cup of tea. For the moment, she was content to listen to the old records, so Lauren put on “Red Sails in the Sunset” and watched Cassie’s face as it began to play. She sighed deeply and put a hand to her chest.
“The doctor said you should take it easy for a couple of days,” Eric said. “Just to make sure not to rattle your brain.”
Cassie laughed. “Rattle my brain? I think my brain’s been well rattled for years!”
“Are you all set?” Lauren asked her.
“I think so. So when do we eat? I hear you two picked up some gourmet mushrooms that are just begging for a risotto.”
“Nope. No risotto. I’m making a mushroom tart. And Eric is making a salad with the rest of the heirloom tomatoes he got at the market.”
Cassie grinned. “Lovely!”
“I need to put that tart in the oven,” Lauren said, heading for the kitchen.
“So what’s
the deal with Mairsy Dotes?” she heard Eric ask as she left the room.
“It’s mares eat oats!” Cassie exclaimed, then laughed again. “Oh, come on, we’ll play it after this one and I’ll explain it to you.”
Lauren turned on the oven and whisked some eggs into her assortment of chopped mushrooms, then added some Swiss cheese, milk and herbs and poured the filling into a crust. Then she slid it into the oven as “Mairsy Dotes” finished playing in the other room.
Eric came in, shaking his head. “That song is just as weird when you know what it’s about.”
“Yes, it is. There’re some funny songs in that collection.”
“She’s really happy with the record player. It was a good idea.” Eric pulled his salad ingredients out of the refrigerator. “I’m going to be taking off after lunch. You two don’t need me here anymore. Besides, I don’t want anybody using me as an excuse.”
“An excuse for what?” Lauren faced him.
He looked up from his tomatoes and grinned mischievously. “What was it that one song called it? Spooning?”
Lauren, embarrassed, looked away. Eric laughed lightly, then went to work on his salad. When he finished, he wiped his hands on a towel and said, “I think I’ll have that talk with her now. I hope it doesn’t upset her. Things are going so well. But I guess that was always the reason nobody said anything in the past. To avoid anything negative.”
“Good luck,” she said as he left the kitchen.
“It smells so good in there!” Lauren heard Cassie say. “Hurry up with that lunch!”
Lauren sat at the kitchen table with a can of soda, trying to imagine what their conversation was like. It didn’t matter so much what was said. Just that they were talking, getting it all out into the open at last.
When the tart was done, she took it out to rest for a few minutes and peeked out through the doorway to see Eric and Cassie sitting together on the couch, both of them in tears. Well, that’s a good sign, she thought.
She cut the tart and served three slices, then arranged the plates and salad bowls on the table. By the time she put the salad out, she could hear Cassie’s laugh, loud and gleeful. I could live with that laugh, she thought. Even in the morning.