If You Must Know

by Beck, Jamie

  “I need to get back to the station.” Rodri tugged at my arm.

  My stubborn legs resisted, but Rodri had been a good friend today, so I forced myself to comply.

  “Bye!” My voice sounded like a seventh grader with a terrible crush. Good God, how humiliating.

  As Rodri drove away, I found myself humming “Here Comes the Sun” for no particular reason. No doubt this day would make its way into Mom’s memory jar. An unexpected good memory in the middle of a lousy week.

  This had to be a sign—a good sign.

  Things would get better for my sister and me.

  I just knew it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AMANDA

  For every high, there was now a low.

  An hour ago, a recent deed for property in Broward County, Florida, arrived in my inbox. It had taken Lyle a couple of days to make good on his promise, but it had come. Thank God. I’d sent it to Stan, breathing easier for the first time in days. My marriage remained an open question, but at least my husband wasn’t a thief. Once he got investors, my mom would be okay again, even if I never was.

  Then, thirty minutes ago, my mother’s next-door neighbor, Mrs. Morton, had called me after she’d found my mother passed out near the mailbox. She’d also called the EMTs, who’d arrived before I did. Mom’s pulse and blood pressure were fine, and they’d found no serious injuries but suggested we monitor her for signs of a mild concussion. Meanwhile, my heart had yet to resume its normal rhythm.

  My mother signed the Refusal of Medical Aid form and handed it back to the female EMT while the male finished packing the blood pressure cuff. I thanked them for their thorough exam before they closed the ambulance doors.

  “Oh my goodness, Amanda. I’m so embarrassed.” My mother covered her face as the vehicle pulled away from the curb. My brain could scarcely keep pace with the gauntlet of little disasters life had thrown at us Turner women lately. But words rarely helped someone as much as a hug did, and since no words came to mind anyway, I wrapped my arms around her.

  Neither of us liked being a public spectacle, so we broke apart quickly. The vacant look in Mom’s eyes had become more frequent this past week. Although I now felt confident she’d be repaid, the guilt over putting her through all this remained.

  I picked out a stray bit of leaf stuck in her hair before looping my arm through hers and leading her inside. We’d not fully recovered from losing my dad, making my mother’s downward spiral that much more painful to watch.

  With my hand pressed gently on her back, I said, “Sit and rest while I straighten up.”

  “I can help.” She bent to pick up a throw pillow that had fallen off the sofa.

  “You just fainted, Mom. Please let me do this small thing for you.”

  While she fussed with the pillow, all I could think about was that this pattern couldn’t continue.

  With a heavy sigh, she pulled at the hem of her favorite day dress—navy with white flowers, bought last spring. “I got a grass stain.”

  That much I could fix. “Go change and I’ll spray it for you.”

  “I think I want to lie down.” She rubbed her temple, reminding me uneasily of the possibility of a concussion.

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to sleep right now.”

  “I’m exhausted, Amanda. I’m not sleeping at night.” She turned and walked toward her room, waving over her shoulder while I shoveled another pile of blame onto mine. “Let me take a catnap . . . Wake me in fifteen minutes.”

  I supposed that couldn’t hurt, and no one could withstand the silent pleading of the bags beneath her eyes. I followed her to her bedroom, where she kicked off her shoes, changed into a cozy tracksuit, and lay on the bed.

  “Fifteen minutes.” I grabbed the stained dress from the end of her mattress, then closed her door and went to the laundry area to apply a stain remover. On my way to the kitchen, I collected two discarded mugs and a plate. A cold, burned potpie sat on the counter near the sink. Had it been out all night? I sniffed it, wrinkled my nose, and scraped most of the contents of the pan into the trash.

  Through the window above the sink, the swaying of the sycamore branches at the edge of the backyard drew me into a trance. Twice in one week my mom had burned food, and now a random collapse? I swayed, dizzy because the person who’d been my rock was crumbling like she had in the weeks following Dad’s funeral.

  Oh, how she’d shrieked when Erin had suggested we cremate Dad and toss his ashes in the bay. For days after, she’d barked at us for the smallest reason.

  But much worse were the weeks that followed. Quiet, long days when she’d refused to dress or shower. When I’d stopped by at random times to find her napping or crying. Kevin had temporarily taken over handling her bills for her, but she rebuffed my offer to pack up Dad’s things for three months.

  Yet even with that erratic behavior I’d never sensed her being a danger to herself. Not like now. This mental fog seemed rapid, but then again, perhaps I’d missed it unfolding under my nose exactly like I’d missed Lyle’s affair.

  I might cry if I had any tears left. Tears hadn’t helped me anyway, and they sure wouldn’t help my mother.

  The last bits of gravy and peas fell into the sink as I rinsed the pie pan before putting it in the dishwasher. Like pieces of my life, the mess circled the drain and disappeared while I watched it happen.

  I shook out my hands, which had balled into fists, and got to work. Within ten minutes I’d finished loading the dishwasher, wiped the counters, refolded the throw blanket, fluffed the sofa cushions, and vacuumed the living room. The instant gratification restored some sense of control, and perhaps offered a bit of penance, too.

  Mom clearly needed some TLC, so I fixed her favorite turkey and Dijon sandwich. After pouring a glass of diet soda and rinsing a cluster of grapes, I took the plate to the dining table, where the place setting for one pinched my heart.

  If I closed my eyes and concentrated, my dad’s deep voice and pleasant chuckle still echoed off the walls. Mom used to complain about the nonstop music and the tinkering noises coming from the basement or garage, but now she probably missed those things the same way I’d been missing the otherwise annoying sneeze from Lyle’s seasonal allergies.

  Out of the blue, I recalled the morning of my wedding. I’d slept in my old room and gotten dressed here, too. My mother had gone from pressing Erin’s bridesmaid gown—which had gotten wrinkled lying at the bottom of Erin’s closet for weeks—to helping fasten the myriad tiny buttons up the spine of my dress.

  “How do I look?” I’d asked my mother and Erin once my veil was in place. “Too much?”

  Lyle and I had decided on a church service, with my siblings serving as the best man and maid of honor because he would have no family in attendance.

  Mom clutched her chest. “Perfectly gorgeous.”

  I looked at Erin, which wasn’t easy given her rather open distaste for Lyle. She winked. “You look like a picture-perfect cake topper.”

  Mom tossed her an annoyed look and then opened the bedroom door so I could go out to the living room, where Kevin, Marcy, and Dad were waiting. It was one of the few times in my life where I’d had my dad’s undivided attention. He teared up upon seeing me in a fluff of white silk and organza, then gently hugged me so as not to muss my gown and makeup. “My beautiful little star, you could not be any prettier. I hope Lyle treasures you as we do.”

  He winked then, much like my sister had.

  Now, not even two years later, I stood in that very spot in the living room—my mother a widow, myself on the verge of divorce. While I’d give anything for my father to be alive, I was glad he never saw what had become of my marriage.

  When I went to wake my mother, she looked puny in a bed that seemed too large without my dad there to fill the other side.

  I touched her shoulder. “Mom.”

  Her eyes opened. “Amanda?” While she reoriented, I noticed the sleep-aid pill bottle on the nightstand and frowned
.

  “I forgot you were here.” She pushed herself upright.

  I shook the bottle of pills. “Have you been taking a lot of these lately?”

  She nodded. “I told you I’m having trouble sleeping.”

  “I didn’t realize it was this bad.” I returned the bottle to the nightstand.

  “It started after your father died, but it’s gotten worse lately.” She slipped her feet into her slippers.

  She didn’t need to say the words for me to assume the blame. Lately, lugging guilt around was my full-time job.

  “When was the last time you took one?” I crossed my arms.

  “This morning around seven, but only because I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. I finally dozed off for a bit this morning, but maybe the pill hadn’t fully worn off by the time I went to the mailbox.” She must’ve sensed my concern, because she got defensive. “I’m not overmedicating, Amanda. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

  “This time,” I almost said, but didn’t want to further agitate her.

  “Understood.” Food should help absorb whatever drugs remained floating around her system, so I grabbed her hand. “I made you a sandwich. Come eat.”

  She looked at me as if I were walking her into some kind of trap, but she relented. “Thank you, honey. That was thoughtful.”

  Well, almost everyone would say I was nothing if not thoughtful. What they didn’t know was how I sometimes wondered if loneliness drove my compulsive need to please others as much as kindness did.

  The starkness of that solitary place setting struck again. “I’ll sit with you.”

  Meals for one sucked—to borrow my sister’s vernacular. It occurred to me, sitting with my mother now, that I should’ve invited her over for dinner more often this past year. Without Dad’s company or her old job, each hour had to feel like a month. She took daily morning walks with her buddy Lorraine Dahill and volunteered for a few hours each week at the town library, but that left many hours to fill.

  I’d been too consumed with my own grief and then my pregnancy to have considered how she might’ve enjoyed company in the evening. I didn’t like to admit that . . . not when I’d always thought of myself as considerate.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” She took her seat with a cared-for smile that softened the knot in my stomach.

  “I ate already,” I lied. Since finding out about Lyle’s affair, my appetite had pulled a disappearing act. Amazing how well one could subsist on prenatal vitamins and the minimum amount of protein needed to support Muffin’s healthy growth.

  My mind wandered in the ensuing silence. My mother needed a new hobby or a roommate, or both. Under other circumstances, I might’ve asked Aunt Dodo to come for an extended visit. Now, that would only intensify my mother’s stress.

  The preschool term ended soon, and then I’d have time for daily visits, when I could also help with housework. But an hour or two per day wouldn’t protect her from burning pots and fainting spells, and I had much to do to prepare for the baby. Mom would be offended by the suggestion of in-home health care.

  I needed Erin’s help.

  Not an easy solution, given the way those two bickered. In truth, I’d never understood why they couldn’t at least bond over their mutual love for Dad. All our lives would be easier if their relationship improved.

  I couldn’t do anything about Lyle’s affair, but I could help my mom and my sister to get closer—literally and figuratively. The fact that it would help me out didn’t hurt, either. “You know, Erin must be pretty lonely without Max.”

  My mother continued chewing—a reluctant nod her only acknowledgment. Success would depend on me tiptoeing through a minefield.

  “Isn’t her lease up soon?” I asked.

  Mom shrugged. “I have no idea. Why?”

  “I guess I’ve been thinking about how she and I were both betrayed, but at least I have a close relationship with you. Without Dad around, Erin’s sort of on her own.”

  Mom snorted. “It’s not like we ban her from our lives. She keeps us at arm’s length.”

  “I only meant that she’s alone, and we both know that’s not easy.”

  “You’re sweet to worry about her, honey. She can surely use all the help she can get.” She took another bite of the sandwich.

  I’d spent my childhood doing everything to avoid being the target of that kind of dig. At least this time Erin hadn’t been here to hear it. It must’ve been exhausting brushing off those comments day after day.

  On a positive note, Mom’s wisecrack had given me an opening. While I didn’t know the details of my sister’s finances, she could probably use a financial break. “Actually, you could do her a big favor if you let her move in with you for a while to save some money while she figured out her next steps . . .”

  I didn’t make eye contact, feigning nonchalance.

  “You’re kidding, right?” She frowned. “If I offer help, she’ll accuse me of thinking she can’t hack it on her own.”

  True enough, but I had a solution for that, too. One I wouldn’t share with Mom, though. I only had to convince her to let Erin move in. “For the sake of argument, if she said yes, would you be okay with that?”

  My mom took another bite while thinking. Her serious contemplation suggested she might be even lonelier than I presumed. “I do like her little dog.”

  Oof. The dog, not her daughter? What if my plan backfired and drove them further apart? Maybe this was a mistake.

  Mom continued, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if she moved in for a while. William would offer if he were here . . .”

  With no time to waffle, I nodded, knowing my dad’s wishes would cinch this side of the equation. “Daddy would love that.”

  My mom balled up her napkin. “This will sound silly, but sometimes I get so mad at him for dying on me. How often did I beg him to quit smoking? But those cigarettes were more important to him than we were. If he were here, I’d kill him for leaving me too soon. Nothing is the same without him.”

  I couldn’t begrudge her the reflexive need to blame someone or something for her pain. Some losses are simply too infinite to accept. I’d been sewing a quilt for our guest room when my mother had called with the news. Lyle had been in his office but came to check on me when he heard me sobbing. He’d gathered me in his arms despite my fists slamming against his chest. When I finally collapsed against him in a puddle of tears, I’d had two thoughts. One was wondering whether my dad had ever realized how much I’d wanted to be closer to him. The second was that at least I’d had Lyle, who loved me as I was, unlike my less fortunate sister, who’d been dating Max, a man I knew could never come close to being a substitute for our father. How ludicrous I’d been to not know that no man would ever fill that void.

  Patting my mother’s wrist, I said, “I miss him, too, Mom.”

  She squeezed my hand. “Let’s change the subject.”

  Okay, then.

  Since Lyle went rogue, our conversations had been strained like this one, with each of us walking a wide circle around frightening questions that didn’t have clear answers. This must be how Erin felt with Mom—always careful and at a loss for safe topics. “I noticed your tulips.”

  “Let’s hope the deer don’t eat them all.” She wiped her mouth with the crumpled napkin. “Thank you for tidying up and making my sandwich, but I’m fine now. You should rest while you can. You’ll need strength when the baby comes.”

  Color had returned to her face and she seemed alert, so I took her up on her suggestion. “Promise you’ll call if you start to feel woozy.”

  “I’m fine. But, yes, I’ll call if anything changes.”

  “Okay. And what did you decide about Erin? If I float the idea by her, would you let her move in?”

  “Sure. We should be able to manage a few months without killing each other, and it’ll deter Dodo from visiting.” Her joking was a sign she might even secretly be looking forward to it.

  “Great.” I had to get to Eri
n before Mom changed her mind. “I have a ham at home if you want to stop over for dinner.”

  “Maybe.”

  Equivocation on a dinner invitation—rare indeed. “I’ll call you later.”

  If I warned Erin of my arrival, she might put me off, so I drove the few blocks to her place. Before entering the decrepit building, I drew in a deep breath, which I held all the way past that second floor. There weren’t words for that crazy cat lady’s apartment stench.

  When I knocked on Erin’s door, Mo went berserk. Erin’s laughter drifted into the hallway while she called him her crazy MoMo. She must’ve peered through the peephole, because there was a pronounced pause before she opened the door. “What’s wrong?”

  I bent down to scratch Mo’s ears. “Do you have a few minutes? Something happened today, and I could use some help.”

  She made a face and stared at the stairwell window behind me. “Are pigs flying?”

  “What?” I turned to look, confused.

  “You want my help?” she asked, then smiled. It surprised me that it could make her this happy when she never seemed to care much for my opinion. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” I scanned the room for a clean place to set my bag before giving up and leaving it on the floor by the door. Only then did I recognize an old Bruce Springsteen song playing in the background, laced with the distinct sound of vinyl. “Did you get the records back?”

  “Yes!” She nodded. “I tracked Max down in New Jersey and threatened him, so he gave me the name of the guy he’d sold them to.”

  Only Erin would take risks and make threats to resolve her problems. “How could you confront that guy by yourself? That’s dangerous.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that stupid. Rodri came with me, but that hadn’t been necessary. Eli was awesome.”

  Her sudden smile hinted at something more than mere gratitude.

  “Eli?”

  “Eli Woodruff. He lives here in town.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, swaying. “Very chill and understanding. He was hot, too. I know it’s not the time to start up with someone new, but there is something about him that presses my buttons.”