Laura helped her get rid of Brad’s belongings and prepare her house for the market. The listing would go live the next day, both of them agreeing it would be easier to sell it vacant. A flood of memories washed over her as she said goodbye to her old life and pulled out of the driveway for the last time. Laura insisted on seeing her off, saying, “parting is such sweet sorrow” as they hugged each other for the last time. They’d barely been apart since they were kids, and a reunion date was TBD. “You’ll always have a home in Austin,” Laura assured her. Adrian promised to call once she arrived.
Adrian couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone except Laura about Brad’s infidelity, and even that was a struggle. She didn’t feel like she could tell anyone else. Like it would defile his memory. She’d wondered why she still felt such loyalty to a man who hadn’t given her the same courtesy, but she couldn’t help it. Despite everything, she still felt love for the man who left her with unanswered questions: How many times? Did he love the other woman? Did he no longer love Adrian? Where had she gone wrong?
At least he’d saved her the embarrassment of explaining his infidelity to everyone and declaring their marriage a failure. Obviously, she would have preferred he didn’t die, and would have wished him well with whomever he chose to be with. But the way things played out had a finality that somehow made it a little bit easier to cope. She was finding her way forward, one day at a time.
Despite being disappointed at first, she’d come to realize what a blessing it was to lose her job. As much as she’d loved it, she felt like the proverbial square peg being shoved into the round hole of what she used to deem important. She no longer fit in her former life. The severance pay gave her an opportunity to find a new way, emerging as a magnificent butterfly from the husk of her former self. The unknowns excited and scared her simultaneously.
She followed a weather-beaten sign for the exit toward Sunview, her hometown. She shifted uncomfortably, the pain of sitting so long getting to her. She considered pulling over to stretch her legs but shook away the thought. She was too close to the end. She could push through.
She admired the sun’s reflection, like diamonds off the water, as she drove over the intracoastal bridge. Fishermen cast their lines into the water at the north pier, earnestly hoping to catch something they could brag about over beers later. She rolled down her window, allowing the salty air to dance through her hair. She’d missed the ocean and its healing abilities and felt ready to be baptized anew in the salty water. She found it ironic that not too long ago, she couldn’t wait to leave, and now she was literally soaking it all in. It wasn’t just her aching body longing to be healed. The little girl’s words beckoned her like a siren’s call, reminding of her purpose: Your mother needs your help.
It was hard to fathom her mother needing anyone. The epitome of independent, Margaret held her cards close to the vest, hiding her emotions behind a thick outer shell. She’d told a young Adrian many times that she needed to toughen up—she was too soft, and the world would crush her if she stayed that way. Adrian needed to be like her if she wanted to survive. Adrian’s father, George, praised her sensitivity, telling her it was okay to be as sensitive as she wanted to be. Adrian wondered on more than one occasion if her mother would have preferred having a boy or no child at all. Margaret wasn’t the most nurturing, although Adrian wouldn’t go as far to call her Mommie Dearest (she let her have wire hangers, after all). Adrian never felt comfortable talking to her mother about anything and usually went to her dad for advice and comfort. He never let Adrian down.
She turned down the familiar drag, passing The Pelican, its sign pink and cream, weathered with age. She and Laura had spent many afternoons there, sharing chili cheese fries, vanilla milkshakes, and gossiping about boys.
Across the street was Chip’s Hardware in a line of old brick buildings, crumbling from deferred maintenance. Chip gave Adrian her first job. It wasn’t glamorous like Laura’s job at The Twistee Freeze, but it certainly taught her a lot. Chip had insisted on showing Adrian a thing or two when it was slow in the shop, and she owed her minimal handiness to him. So much of her old stomping grounds were exactly the same, except several old storefronts were boarded up, with slightly askew For Lease signs hanging in the windows.
The vision of Margaret dying haunted Adrian, assuring her she was doing the right thing. No one deserved to die alone, regardless of wounds from the past floating to the surface with their recent reunion. Adrian remembered her mother instilling in her at a young age the importance of being the bigger person when in an argument and apologizing first. She never thought she’d have to be the bigger person with her own mother, but three years was long enough. Continuing to let their differences come between them just didn’t feel right. Maybe once they had a chance to spend time together, it would help them move forward and let the past drift away in favor of new, albeit short-term, memories.
Adrian turned into Shady Acres, the retirement community her mother moved to right before they’d stopped talking. Retirement communities were always akin to God’s waiting room in Adrian’s mind. She’d read an article recently about the rise of sexually transmitted diseases in places like that, with old people hyped up on little blue pills trying desperately to recapture any semblance of their youth. She shuddered at the thought.
At least the community was well maintained. She passed several enclaves of houses with fancy names like “Gardenia Villas” and “Honeysuckle Cottages.” There were two sidewalks: one designated for walking and the other for golf carts. The landscaping was meticulously manicured. It reminded her of Stepford, or at least a version of Stepford designated for the dying.
As she navigated her way around the Blue Heron golf course, she turned into her mother’s subdivision. The homes were charming despite their ticky-tacky uniformity. They all had at least one sago palm tree in the front yard and stucco exteriors in varying shades of beige, butter cream, sage, and white. Adrian silently thanked whomever invented GPS, since looking for the white house on the left would have done her no good.
She hit the brakes a little too hard when the GPS signaled arrival at the destination. Her pulse raced as she parked, the pounding in her ears drowning out the hum of her idle engine. Time to rip the Band-Aid off. She killed the engine and walked around to the trunk. She retrieved one of her suitcases and slung her backpack over one shoulder, leaving the rest for whenever she needed a brief reprieve from her mother. The wheels of her suitcase clicked over the stone pavers as she ascended the driveway. Margaret opened the door before Adrian could knock. Adrian’s heart sank.
It’s worse than I thought.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here already,” Margaret said.
It had only been a few months since Adrian last saw her mother, but she wasn’t falling for Margaret’s poor attempts to hide obvious signs of health deterioration. She looked thinner, her face poorly under her makeup, and bags hung heavy under her eyes. She wore a white collared shirt with a faint coffee stain on the chest and peered at Adrian through drug store readers.
Adrian didn’t dare comment, suddenly feeling six years old again, fearing retaliation for stepping out of line. Instead, “Just pulled up,” were the only words she squeaked out.
Adrian attempted to end the awkwardness by leaning in for a hug. Margaret reciprocated with two swift pats on the back before pulling away. They stood awkwardly, unsure of how to fill the void.
Margaret pointed to her mailbox at the end of the driveway. “I was just going to check the mail.”
“I’ll take these things inside.” Adrian moved out of the way.
“Your room is the second door on the left down the hall.”
Adrian watched her mother get the mail, khakis threatening to slide off her body. Maybe she would have an easier time if she had a cane. Adrian knew better than to bring that up to Margaret. A woman who epitomized keeping up appearances, Margaret wouldn’t be caught dead looking old, even if it did make things easier for her.
<
br /> Adrian carried her things across the threshold, gaining familiarity with her surroundings. A galley kitchen, closed off from the living room, was to the right. It was clean and modest, with cream-colored Formica countertops and pickled oak cabinets reminiscent of a certain stomachache reliever. A round chestnut table and matching chairs filled the small dining room beyond the kitchen. A bay window provided a view of what the neighbors were up to. The television recounted local nefarious activity via a local news station. The set was framed by a worn recliner and small sofa in the living room straight ahead.
Adrian descended a hallway to her left, passing a bathroom decorated with a white frilly shower curtain and powder blue walls before finding her bedroom. The room reminded her of her teenage bedroom, except posters of New Kids on the Block and Mario Lopez weren’t taped haphazardly to the walls. A sage green quilt covered a queen-sized bed against the wall, with four pillows propped artistically against the brass headboard. A white oak nightstand leaned against the bed frame, adorned by a modest lamp emitting a warm glow underneath its neutral lamp shade. To the right of the bed were white folding doors enclosing the contents of a closet. Against the wall at the foot of the bed stood a small white oak dresser embellished with a lace doily and a few pictures in small frames. Adrian dropped her suitcase by the closet and went to look at the three pictures: one of her parents on the beach at sunset, one of Adrian and Brad taken about three months after they started dating, and another one of Adrian and Laura from prom night. She wondered if her mother strategically placed the photos there in honor of her arrival.
Adrian jumped when she heard the screen door slam. Margaret had a hard time catching her breath, coughing as she shuffled into the living room. The bittersweetness of their new role-reversal reality sank in. Was Adrian up for the challenge?
Her mother coughed with more force. Maybe she needs water.
After searching the kitchen for glasses and filling one with water, Adrian took it to her mother. Margaret took healthy gulps, her hand shaking as she set the half-full glass down on the metal-framed table next to her dark blue recliner. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s no problem,” Adrian muttered, sitting down on the beige sofa. The hum of the TV filled the void between them. It was nestled between two built-in bookshelves against the wall, tastefully spruced up with picture frames and knick-knacks. French doors allowed for natural light from a small patio in the backyard. Margaret’s bedroom must be down the hall to the right. Adrian stole glances at her mother, watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed.
“I didn’t realize the casual, no makeup look was in vogue,” Margaret said.
“I didn’t realize formal attire was required to visit.” Adrian folded her arms across her chest.
“You never know who you might run into.”
“I was in my car most of the time. You know, driving…to get here. I didn’t really stop and socialize on the way.”
“Are we not socializing now?”
“I stand corrected.” Adrian raised her hands in defeat. “I’m so glad I’m here, and thanks for the warm welcome. What can I do for you?”
Margaret sighed. “Don’t treat me like a sick old lady, and don’t baby me.”
“No problem.”
Margaret turned her attention back to the television, signifying the end of that conversation. Adrian felt out of body, questioning her new reality. Could she handle living with her mother again? When she looked at Margaret, the resounding answer had to be yes. She could still see the image of her dying. Regardless of the pain caused by both of them in the past, she had to do the right thing. She’d suppress her urge to run out the front door and never look back.
So much had changed in the last three years. Adrian never had the courage to come out and ask why her mother hadn’t told her sooner about her father’s health. She kept waiting for her to apologize and offer an explanation, but one never came. She felt the living room shrink, the elephant closing in on them.
“I’m sorry about Brad.” Margaret didn’t break her gaze from the drama on the screen. Was the elephant suffocating her too?
“It’s okay. It’s not anyone’s fault.” Adrian wanted to believe that statement. Part of her did but the other felt guilty. She’d replayed their last months together in her mind, searching for anything she could have done differently to cause a different outcome. Maybe if she’d been more supportive or encouraging or less baby crazed. Maybe if she’d given him more, he wouldn’t have cheated. He’d still be alive.
But would they be happy?
“At the risk of sounding callous, I think your life is better without him.”
And there it was. In such a swift statement, Margaret re-opened old wounds Adrian had spent years trying to heal. And she’d thought maybe her mother was about to apologize for not telling her sooner about her father. But instead, she decided to assert her opinion where it wasn’t wanted. Adrian remembered when Margaret told her at her father’s funeral that she thought Adrian was making a big mistake marrying Brad. Adrian wouldn’t dare give her mother the satisfaction of knowing the truth—that her marriage was, in fact, not perfect. She’d rather carry that one to her grave.
“I think I’m going to take a walk.” Adrian needed to get out of there.
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I—”
“Not now.” Adrian put up her hand to stop her mother from saying more. She walked out the front door, letting it slam behind her. She looked up and down the street, realizing the very real possibility of getting lost in the uniformity. She felt lost already, conflicting emotions that she’d spent years suppressing bubbling to the surface. If one stupid comment from her mother pinched a nerve, she obviously wasn’t ready to face them. There were only two things she needed in that moment: to talk to her best friend and a cigarette.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Laura’s number. While the phone rang, she retrieved the pack of cigarettes from her car to help take the edge off the whole situation. Laura answered. “How’s everything going?”
“Not so great.” Adrian took a long drag. “She insulted me for not wearing a formal gown and tiara for my arrival, and she already told me she still thinks Brad was an idiot.”
“She really said that?”
“No, I’m exaggerating a little. But she might as well have.”
“Give it some time. You’ve only been there for how long now?”
“Like an hour or something.” It sure felt like a lot longer.
“This isn’t going to be easy, and not many people would do what you’re doing. Be proud of that.”
“You’re right, although now I’m tempted to put her in a home.”
Laura chuckled. “Hang in there. Things will get easier. Actually, now that I think of it, my yoga instructor shared something with us at the end of our last class that may help you in this situation.”
Laura has always been the yin to Adrian’s yang, the hippy-dippy to her practicality. She wondered what words of wisdom from a hipster-yogi could possibly apply to her situation, but anything was worth a shot. “Hit me with it.”
“She gave us the mantra of peace begins with me to repeat throughout our day. I think you should try it.”
“Peace begins with me,” Adrian repeated. She felt herself relax slightly. Maybe Laura was onto something. “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”
“Do I smell smoke?” Margaret asked, opening the front door.
Busted.
Adrian felt seventeen again, quickly putting out the evidence. “I gotta go.” She hung up and looked at her mother, who towered over her, making her suddenly feel small.
“Honestly, Adrian, if you feel like smoking, just look at me. All of this could be your future.” Margaret waved her hands over her body like a geriatric Vanna White.
“I wasn’t smoking.” Adrian avoided eye contact.
Margaret scoffed. “You’re just like your father—a terrible liar.”
“I’m g
oing to go unpack,” Adrian mumbled. She went straight to her bedroom to avoid any further lecturing. Peace begins with me. Peace begins with me.
8
Adrian woke up startled, taking a few moments to realize where she was. Even after a couple of weeks, she still hadn’t gotten used to waking up in her mother’s house. She couldn’t hear the TV, so she must have woken up before Margaret.
Her bare feet retracted from the cold tile before sliding into her slippers. She trudged toward the kitchen in search of her daily fix. She needed caffeine and needed it bad. She turned on the coffeepot, and while it percolated, she quietly fixed breakfast for her mother.
“Good morning.” Margaret rubbed her eyes as she walked into the kitchen, her pink bathrobe tied tightly around her waist.
“Breakfast is almost ready.” Adrian spooned cottage cheese onto a plate with half a grapefruit.
Margaret sat at the dining table and looked out the bay window. Adrian brought her coffee and breakfast, happy to see she’d grabbed the pill box containing her morning meds. Adrian joined her at the table with a cup of coffee and they sipped in silence. The morning fog began to dissipate, revealing dew-kissed grass shimmering in the emerging sunlight.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Margaret asked.
“In a minute. I need coffee first.” Adrian warmed her hands against the steaming mug.
“You need to eat. You’re too skinny. No man likes a woman who is too skinny,” Margaret mumbled through bites of cottage cheese.
“Joe is all the man I need.” Adrian sipped appreciatively.
Margaret shook her head. “You’re too young to be giving up.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m still mourning.”
“Brad wasn’t—”
Adrian put up her hand. “Eat your breakfast.”
Unfinished Business Page 5