Moments We Forget

by Beth K. Vogt

  “That’s a good idea.” He seemed to consider her suggestion. “I think the two of us should model that behavior for a few weeks before we ask outright for any changes, don’t you?”

  “Ye-es.” He wanted her to smile? Fine. She’d smile.

  “Instead of just saying, ‘I saw this at the Broadmoor, so let’s do it, too,’ our employees will have experienced it firsthand—seen what we want them to do.”

  “Right.”

  “Back to the book. You said you read all of it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You did what I asked you to do—and then some.” He leaned forward, his hands encircling his cup of coffee. “But you’re not buying it, are you?”

  Johanna shifted in her seat. “I don’t know why you’d say that.”

  “First, you came here offering me an idea, not wanting to talk about something from the book.”

  “You asked me to read it. I did.”

  “Tell me one thing you underlined in the book—you know, something that stood out to you.”

  Ha! She’d gone through the motions of underlining sentences here and there—ones she suspected he would like—but she would never have read the book if Dr. Miller hadn’t turned it into an assignment.

  They were playing a game of professional dodgeball. She was trying to make the man happy, but he didn’t want to know what she really thought.

  His gaze hadn’t wavered from her. Had he even blinked since they’d started talking?

  “You wanted an idea about raising morale. I gave you an idea. And you agreed it was a good one.”

  “If all I wanted were suggestions, I could put up a suggestion box in one of the break rooms.” Now he blinked. “I’m trying to figure out if we can work together as a leadership team.”

  He hadn’t exactly put all his cards on the table, but he’d given her a glimpse of them. Fine. She’d call it.

  “If you’re just looking for some reason to fire me, why did I waste a long weekend reading some rah-rah motivational book?”

  “You’re an excellent pharmacist, Johanna.” His words should have encouraged her, but they seemed to hit a brick wall. “You have great credentials. I also know you wanted the pharmacy director position. I wasn’t the one who hired me instead of you—but I did accept the position.”

  “I know—you have the expertise with the off-site cancer center.”

  “True. But Dr. Lerner also told me from the start that they liked the fact that I’ve turned around two other pharmacy systems struggling with morale and turnover problems—because that’s a problem here at Mount Columbia.”

  He might as well have stood up and shouted, “You’re fired” right then.

  Johanna’s skin chilled. She wanted to find the words to defend herself, but all that came out were repetitions of what she’d said before.

  “I told you, Dr. Miller—we’re performing well.”

  “At what cost?” Miller’s voice lowered. “In terms of both money and our reputation, we’ll run out of good people who want to work here. And then all those statistics you keep talking about? They’ll fail.”

  She had no response.

  “That’s why I was hired, Johanna. And that’s why I need to know if you’re willing to be on my team. We want the same thing—success. We do things differently. I need to know if you can change.”

  “Of course I can change.”

  Dr. Miller rose to his feet. “Then prove it.”

  And with those words, he turned his back on her and walked away.

  I SHOULD DO SOMETHING more to make today feel festive—more Christmassy. But tuning Spotify to holiday music would have to do. And there was the evergreen wreath, complete with a simple red bow, on the front door—thanks to some industrious high school kid showing up to sell greenery last week. With the kitchen floor still not finished, it was impossible to think about asking Geoff to pull out decorations and a tree, adding more disorder to the chaos.

  I’d insisted on hosting round four of our book club, but it would be a bagels-and-cream-cheese kind of affair, with orange juice sufficing for fruit.

  “No sign of snow.” Payton hung her coat on the rack by the front door. “I wonder if we’ll have a white Christmas.”

  “It’s only the first day of December.” Johanna shook her head, settling on the couch and balancing her travel thermos of coffee. I was tempted to ask if she had one for every day of the week, but refrained.

  “Never too early to wish for snow on Christmas.”

  “Payton, do you want coffee?”

  “Juice is fine. I drove through Starbucks on my drive down.”

  I joined Johanna on the couch, my book sitting on the coffee table—right where I’d abandoned it weeks ago. When was the right time to confess I hadn’t read a single page since the last time we met? That it was easier to scroll through Facebook laughing at inane cat and dog videos or memes, skipping everyone else’s posts about how their life couldn’t be better, their children more perfect—or worse, political wrangling that never swayed anyone’s already-settled opinion.

  Might as well go first—live the “confession is good for the soul” principle. One day I needed to figure out who said that.

  I twisted my engagement ring and wedding band around my finger. “I’m going to be honest with both of you and admit I haven’t read any more of this book.”

  “What?” Johanna looked as if I had just said I had a new book for us to read—but I wasn’t that Thatcher sister.

  “I wanted to. I liked the first chapter. But I—I just haven’t been able to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Why was Johanna so surprised? Did she really expect me to get my life in order in four weeks?

  “If you’d stop interrupting her, maybe she could explain.” Payton stepped up, ready once again to take Johanna on.

  “You know what? I’m not up to you two arguing today.”

  My words silenced my sisters. They both looked like I had yelled at the top of my lungs.

  “I’m not climbing back in the ring with you two. I’m done being the referee every time you decide to duke it out. We formed a book club, not a fight club.”

  Now that I’d said all of that, part of me wanted to return to my assigned position in between Johanna and Payton. Or even better, go upstairs, crawl back into bed, and go to sleep. But I was going to stay. Talk this out.

  I pressed the heel of my palm against my forehead. “I lost my job at the bank because of this stupid chemo brain. And I can’t get a job for the same reason. I should have all the time in the world, right? But no matter how much time I have, I just can’t function. I wake up . . . and I’m tired. All the time. I struggle to get things done. Going to the grocery store to get the stuff for today, I forgot to get the fruit for the fruit salad . . . and Winston’s dog food. And the toilet paper.”

  “We all do that, Jill.”

  “Sure. Sometimes. But this is my life, Payton. Every single day. All day.”

  “You’ll get better, right?” A faint echo of Mom’s voice laced Payton’s words. “It’ll just take time.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Some people—breast cancer survivors, researchers—say yes, you get over this in three months.” I sipped some orange juice, welcoming the tangy relief on my dry throat. “Well, I’m past that expiration date, obviously. Others say they’re still struggling with symptoms years after their treatment.”

  I’d been honest with my sisters this far . . . why not be completely candid?

  “And because I can’t get pregnant—now or maybe at all—I thought Geoff and I should look into adoption . . . but Geoff said no. Not just no to adopting, but no to any children at all. Ever.”

  “What?”

  “Why?”

  Johanna’s and Payton’s questions hit me at the same time. A duo of quick, sharp verbal stabs.

  I choked back the tears threatening to stop me from telling them everything. “Oh, now this . . . this is when it gets interesting. It turns
out that Geoff has an older brother, Brian, who ran away when he was seventeen. And because of how his brother abandoned the family, now Geoff doesn’t want to have children.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” Johanna spoke the words with authority as if I’d never thought of that.

  “I know it doesn’t! But Geoff’s decision is all tangled up in his head and it makes sense to him. He’ll marry me with all my mess and the possibility my cancer might come back, but the thought of having a child, of being a father . . . because of what happened when he was a teenager . . . he can’t go there.”

  Trying to explain my life to Johanna and Payton, my husband’s decision, was like trying to explain math to someone when I didn’t understand it myself. All the numbers and symbols jumbled together, creating white noise in my head.

  “I’m so sorry, Jill. I just never imagined . . .” Payton’s voice trailed off.

  “It’s crazy, right?” I rubbed my hand over my eyes. “Sounds like a soap opera, but it’s my life. The reality is staring me in the face every morning when I wake up. I mean, I have trouble remembering a lot of things, but there’s no forgetting this.”

  We sat in silence for a few seconds, and then Johanna’s whisper positioned her front and center.

  “If the theme for this morning is honesty . . . I might as well confess work is a bit of a mess right now.” Johanna set her thermos on the coffee table, moving a coaster in place before she did so. “And this isn’t some sort of sisterly one-upmanship, Jilly.”

  “What are you talking about? Aren’t you enjoying your promotion?”

  “I never got the promotion. Months ago when I announced to the family that I was the pharmacy director? That wasn’t the truth. I was made the interim director while they were doing the hiring search.” She rubbed her palms against the material of her pants. “I’d been all but promised the job by my boss when he retired. And then a late applicant showed up and trumped my résumé with his.”

  “Johanna!”

  “Why so shocked, Jill? Because I lied?”

  “No . . . no. I’m so sorry.” I could only imagine how disappointed Johanna was. “I know how much you wanted that promotion.”

  This was like finding out your crisp, new hundred-dollar bill was counterfeit. Johanna’s life was always so perfect. She didn’t make mistakes. She always had a plan—and then she executed it, the way she wanted it done, when she wanted it done.

  What else had she told us during the past six months that was false?

  “I know you’ve got to be upset, Johanna.”

  “Thanks.” Johanna’s curt reply brushed aside Payton’s attempt to understand.

  “How’s it going with the new director?” I rushed in with a question, hoping to cover up Johanna’s brusqueness.

  “Oh, well, there’s the other lovely part of all of this. We do not get along. At. All. He’s like some life coach on steroids and a steady diet of coffee chased with Mountain Dew.”

  I wanted to laugh at Johanna’s over-the-top description but didn’t dare. “Are you going to quit?”

  “I guess that’s the question. Am I going to quit . . . or is he going to fire me?”

  Payton surprised both Johanna and me with a laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Johanna sounded more irritated than curious.

  “It looks like the Thatcher sisters have found their common ground at last.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re all a mess. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  Not Payton, too. “I thought you loved being back in college and coaching the high school team.”

  “No real complaints about my college life . . . except I’ll never enjoy taking tests and writing papers.”

  “Then what’s going on?”

  “Zach’s in love with me—”

  “Everyone knows that,” Johanna scoffed.

  “And we agreed we can’t have a relationship.”

  “You can’t have a relationship? What does that even mean?” Johanna’s focus was now lasered on Payton. “You love the guy, right?”

  “Johanna, you may not understand this, but Zach’s a Christian and I’m not.”

  “This is about religion? So tell him he can believe what he wants—kind of like you rooting for the Broncos and him rooting for the Chiefs, or if he was a Democrat and you were a Republican.”

  “That’s not how it works.”

  “People make that work all the time. They just don’t talk about it during the play-offs or election season.”

  Payton was sinking farther back into Geoff’s chair. “Johanna, can we please not argue about this today?”

  Johanna crossed her arms, her expression softening. “Fine. No arguing.”

  And this . . . this was a modern-day miracle for our family.

  Payton teared up again. But was it because of Zach or because Johanna backed off?

  If no one else would, I was going to celebrate this occurrence. “Well, we may feel like we’re sitting at the bottom of the barrel, so to speak, but we’re together, right?”

  Payton sniffed, offering a smile. “That’s true.”

  “Isn’t this when we brainstorm how to get out of here?” Johanna, ever the leader, was already planning our exodus.

  “No.” I raised my coffee mug. “We enjoy the moment.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  I raised my coffee higher, motioning to my sisters. “Here’s to the Thatcher sisters, together at last.”

  Payton raised her coffee cup. “Together at last.”

  Johanna shook her head. “You two are crazy.”

  “Come on, big sister.”

  “Fine.” Johanna raised her thermos. “Together at last.”

  The music of our combined laughter, such a rare sound, lasted for a moment.

  Johanna lowered her cup, staring us both down with her “Listen up, because I’m the big sister” glare. “But we’re not staying down here for long.”

  “Agreed.” Our voices melded together again in a promise, a family likeness in our smiles.

  I RAN MY HAND along the pewter-colored countertop, trying to overlook how it didn’t flow into a waterfall edge as I’d hoped. I focused on the beautiful backsplash with pewter-and-stone accents that one of Zach’s friends, who was learning how to install tile, had designed at half what the labor would have normally cost us.

  “So, even though you’ve had to make adjustments, are you happy with the kitchen?” Payton’s question pulled me from my assessment of the room.

  “Yes. In some ways, I like it better.”

  Just then, Winston skittered through one of the unexpected adjustments to the kitchen, which was fast becoming one of my favorites—the single back door with a large, multipaned glass window to let in the sunlight for me . . . and a doggy door for Winston.

  “Zach calls that door ‘a moment of accidental brilliance.’ Whatever it is, I’m glad we ended up with it rather than the French doors I’d wanted.”

  “I think Winston likes it better, too.” Payton ignored the mention of Zach’s name.

  “We all do.” I sidestepped past Winston. “You want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I’m meeting with Sydney to finalize plans for the beginning of club season after this.” Payton bent and picked up Winston, who had been dancing around her feet, demanding attention.

  “Right. Can I get you some water, then?” When she agreed, I retrieved two bottles of water out of the fridge. “I’ve never been so thankful to have a mostly functioning kitchen again in my life.”

  “So the floor is the last thing left to do?”

  “Yes—and that’ll be installed next week, now that the right flooring has arrived. Zach said between that and a few final touches here and there, we should have everything complete by Christmas.”

  “And then you and Geoff and Winston—” she ruffled his ears—“will have the house all to yourselves again.”

  “We’re all looking forward to that. But Zach has been great th
rough all this—and I know he helped us out, gave us a price cut. Because of you.”

  “Well . . . that’s just who he is.” Payton’s face remained neutral at every mention of Zach, as if she didn’t know him.

  “Come on, Payton, I know you miss the guy.”

  “I’m fine.”

  I wasn’t buying it, but I hadn’t asked her to come by to argue about that.

  “How about we go sit in there? I’ll bring the water.” I motioned toward the living room. “I appreciate you coming by . . . because I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “You did? What?”

  “Well, Zach actually suggested I talk to you . . . after I talked to him about some of it.”

  Payton settled Winston in her lap. “I don’t follow.”

  “During our book club the other day you said that you and Zach can’t be together because he’s a Christian and you’re not.”

  Payton’s mouth twisted. “Right.”

  “I don’t understand. If you love him and he loves you, why can’t you guys just agree to disagree?”

  “You mean like Johanna suggested? It doesn’t work that way, Jill.” Payton’s attention never strayed from Winston. “Zach’s faith is too important for him to want to be with someone who doesn’t believe the same thing he does. And besides, the Bible says a believer shouldn’t marry an unbeliever.”

  “But I thought you believed in God.”

  “I do believe in God. But there’s more to it . . . to faith . . . than that.” Payton closed her eyes. Hesitated, as if gathering her thoughts. “I thought you wanted to talk about something else—not about me.”

  “I’m not trying to fix you and Zach. We’re not in high school anymore, so I know that’s not my job. I’m trying to understand you a little better before I talk about me.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk about me . . . about Zach right now. It’s just too hard.” Payton twisted off the cap of the water bottle but didn’t take a drink. “What’s going on with you?”

  “I thought when I married Geoff that I’d be happy, but I’m not.” I didn’t know if my admission surprised me or Payton more. “Isn’t that a horrible thing for me to say?”