“Is this Daisy?”
I recognized the voice but didn’t quite place it before the caller introduced herself. “It’s Ruby—from book group.”
“Oh, hi, Ruby,” I said, smiling. “How are you doing?”
“I’m alright,” she said, but I could hear the distress in her voice. “I just spoke with Athena. I called to tell her about the new book, and I found out why she wasn’t there last night.”
“Oh?”
“Her mother was involved in a car accident Friday night,” Ruby explained. “She was killed.”
I stood up straight, holding a casserole dish in my hand. “Oh, that’s awful.”
“I know. I’m just heartbroken about it. That poor girl. She’s a tough cookie, that Athena, but there’s no doubt this is a horrible thing for her to have to deal with. When I got off the phone with her, I opened my paper and found her mother’s obituary. She’s as pretty as Athena is; they could have been sisters. It said the funeral’s on Wednesday at Saint Paul’s Greek Orthodox Church in Irvine. I thought it might be nice if some of us could attend and support her.”
My instant reaction was that going to Athena’s mother’s funeral seemed a little extreme. I’d only met Athena once several weeks ago. Didn’t it seem almost . . . pretentious to assume I was important enough in her life that it would make some kind of difference to her if I were there? But I hesitated to say that to Ruby, who obviously thought going was a good idea. She somehow interpreted my hesitation as agreement.
“The services start at eleven, and I already called the priest to make sure that you don’t have to be Greek Orthodox to attend. He assured me it was open to anyone connected to the family. He also said that it would be wonderful for us to come and that Athena and her sister are taking care of all the arrangements themselves due to their father’s failing health. Can you imagine that? She’s so young to lose a parent so tragically, and her father isn’t well either. I just feel awful.”
So did I, but I wasn’t sure I could make it to the funeral. I hurried to my planner and put the casserole dish down as I flipped through the days. “Did you say the funeral was Wednesday?”
“Yes,” Ruby verified. “Shannon can’t make it, but if it’s possible, I think Athena could use the support. Maybe we could all chip in for some flowers or something.”
It was crazy to think she needed our support, but I’d caught some of Ruby’s compassion and found that I did want to be there to support this new friend. Maybe it would seem weird, but maybe it was just what she needed. The other people there would likely be friends of the family, dealing with their own grief. While I was certainly sympathetic, I didn’t know Athena’s mother. I could be there to support Athena, if she needed it.
I stared at the page in my planner and remembered that Wednesday was my open morning. “I can go,” I said, relieved to be able to say so. “And I’m still happy to go in on some flowers, or maybe a houseplant that will last a little longer.”
“Oh, that’s an excellent idea,” Ruby said. “My sister gave me a ficus when Phil passed away. I still have it in the living room—do you remember it? It was in the corner by the piano?”
I smiled. Ruby was a very sweet woman with a big heart. “I do remember that tree; it’s lovely.”
“It reminds me of Phil every time I see it. I’ll call a florist and see what I can find.”
“Have you already spoken to Paige and Livvy?” Saying their names reminded me of Paige’s comment about my being pregnant. The memory deadened some of my enthusiasm to see her again, but that made me feel bad too. She had jumped to a poor conclusion, but why should that make me uncomfortable? If anything, she should feel bad about what she said.
“Not yet,” Ruby said. “Your name is the first one on my list after Athena; it’s alphabetical by first name. I didn’t tell her I was calling you gals about coming—do you think that’s okay?”
“Yes,” I assured her. “We’ll be there to share our support any way we can.”
“Right,” Ruby said. “I’ll give Livvy a call. Would you mind calling Paige?”
I did, a little, but it seemed petty to say so and would therefore require Ruby to make two calls instead of one. “Sure,” I said. “Do you have her number?”
Ruby gave it to me, and I dialed Paige’s number after I wrote the funeral details into my planner. There was a good chance it would cut into my lunch break, but my first conference call wasn’t until two o’clock, so I would be okay. I’d have to look up the address of the church to find out whether it was worth going into work for an hour before the service or if it made more sense to have a lazy morning. Paige picked up on the third ring.
“Hello?” she said, sounding tired.
“Hi, Paige. It’s Daisy, from book group.” I could hear the sound of a TV in the background.
She paused and then said, “Oh, hi.”
I hurried to explain what had happened in hopes it would cover the awkwardness.
“Poor Athena,” she said when I finished. A little voice yelled for a drink, and she moved the phone away to tell him just a minute. The chaos in the background of her home made my house feel stagnant. “I’m not sure if I can make Wednesday work, though. I won’t know until I get into the office tomorrow. I’d like to go if I can, and I can go in on the plant too.”
“Well, why don’t you give me a call when you know one way or another? This is my cell number.”
“Okay,” Paige said. She paused and then continued. “I’ve been thinking about you today,” she said in a humble tone. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. I really didn’t mean to.”
“Oh, no,” I said, exaggerating how not bugged I was in hopes it would make me seem older and wiser and confident of my position. “I wasn’t bothered a bit. Don’t worry about it for another second.”
“Oh, good,” Paige said, proving that she’d fallen for my assertions. “Sometimes I just say too much, ya know?”
“No worries,” I said. “I’ll look forward to hearing whether or not you can make it.”
“I should know by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Good deal.”
The little voice again demanded a drink. I heard Paige sigh and couldn’t help but try to encourage her.
“Hang in there,” I said. I wasn’t sure if Paige understood, but it was good for me to have a moment of empathy. She was young, alone, and raising two kids; I knew what that felt like. I also didn’t want her to think I was holding a grudge.
“Thanks,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Chapter 13
Paige called me Monday afternoon and said she’d been able to trade her work schedule from Wednesday to Saturday. I was impressed with her determination to go to the funeral. “Will you be okay getting child care worked out on Saturday?”
“I called my motherin-law; she lives in Orange. With Doug in Denver, she helps out with the boys when she can.”
Doug must be the ex-husband. I could hear her tone change when she’d said his name. “Okay,” I said. “Just keep me in mind if you need a babysitter some time. My house is a little lonely these days.”
“Oh, you’re sweet,” Paige said in a tone that clearly communicated she wasn’t really considering my offer. I couldn’t really blame her. She went to church and had her own network of people there. Not only a church, but the Mormon church; she’d made a big deal about how focused they were on helping each other out. It was probably a good thing that she didn’t take me up on it anyway. I hadn’t been around little kids for a long time. I didn’t really know why I’d offered. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
I hung up and went back to work, but I realized that in that split second between thinking about it and offering to watch her boys, I’d really wanted to do it. I knew that had to do with Stormy being gone. I missed her. And the house was so quiet without her music blaring or her friends laughing in her room. I could use a little noise. Feeling nostalgic, I pulled out my phone and sen
t Stormy a text, just telling her I was thinking about her and hoped she was having a good day. I ended with Wub-oo, realizing we hadn’t said our secret word in a long time.
She texted back about ten minutes later.
Wub-oo 2. Can I come over this weekend?
My heart leapt in my chest. I couldn’t reply fast enough that it would be great to have her.
Cool. Hannah’s bday prty is Friday. Can you pick me up after play practice?
Sure. Can you stay until Sunday?
Yeah. Dad’s going to clean out his storage unit so I need somewhere to hide.
I should probably have been offended that her reason for coming was to get out of work, but I was so starved for positive interaction with my daughter that I let it slide right over me.
Great!!!!!
I told Paul about it when I got home, knowing I sounded pathetic about being so excited to have Stormy come. His reception of the news was a little cool. “I thought we were going to go up to Huntington Beach on Saturday.”
Shoot. I’d forgotten that we’d talked about renting some beach cruisers and following the bike path along the coast before the weather got too cold, but Paul and I had had every evening and weekend to ourselves for nearly a month. Surely he could see that making a change of plans to accommodate my daughter’s visit was reasonable. “Maybe we could all go.”
“Stormy isn’t going to want to ride a bike.”
He was right. She wouldn’t. “Well, maybe we could all go to Habana Cabana for dinner, and you and I can do the bikes next weekend.”
Paul shrugged and went back to whatever he was doing on his computer. “Sure.”
I had stopped at the library on the way home, glad to be able to borrow a copy of My Name Is Asher Lev instead of having to buy it, and with Paul pouting, now was the perfect time to get started on it. It wasn’t as long as The Poisonwood Bible, but it was a pretty big book in hardback. I fixed a simple dinner of spaghetti using the leftover sauce from last week—leftovers seemed to propagate without a teenager around to eat them—and then disappeared into my room where I settled into my new evening routine of freedom and flexibility and got lost in the story of another religious family. I found it ironic that both Poisonwood Bible and Asher Lev were about such zealous families, but it served to deepen my principle of not letting other people determine who you should be.
I wasn’t Orleanna from Poisonwood who danced to her husband’s twisted tune in the name of devotion and fear. And I wasn’t Rivkeh Lev, pulled between the love of my child and the confines of an archaic lifestyle and domineering husband. For all my mistakes and poor choices, I’d been a strong woman who thought for herself and made the best of those less-than-sparkly situations. I was proud of that. I only wished that strength felt like strength when you were in the middle of things. Right now, I was beginning to feel stagnant as my life had narrowed in focus to two things: work and Paul. Both good things, but I needed more. These books were a start, but maybe I also needed to find a hobby or take a class of some kind. I might not be Orleanna or Rivkeh, but was I becoming vague and undefined in my own right?
I kept reading, admiring Asher’s passion and commiserating at the conflict it put between him and his religious community. Though not as extreme, I’d been there too. It wasn’t until I’d stepped away from the church-centered life of my parents that I realized how much of my life had centered on it as well. It had been a difficult and lonely shift for me. I looked forward to seeing how things ended for Asher. I hoped they ended well. I could use a happy ending right about now.
Chapter 14
Athena’s mother’s funeral was nice, if not a little awkward, since I’d never been to the funeral of someone I didn’t know. Add to that the fact that I was sitting with three women I barely knew in a very ornate and opulent church full of Greek people and it was hard to imagine why I wouldn’t be a little uncomfortable. Everyone was wearing all black except Paige and me, and I leaned over to her and told her how grateful I was not to be the only one out of dress code. She laughed behind her hand, and I felt a little more bonded to her than I had before. Who knew that the Greek Orthodox wore only black to funerals?
Athena had looked surprised when she saw us, which was after the service when she was following the casket down the aisle of the chapel to the waiting hearse. She and a woman I assumed was her sister—same beautiful eyes—were walking on either side of a man who looked too old to be their father. He walked slowly, but kept looking around as though not sure why he was there. Athena looked tired and burdened, and I smiled slightly at her when she met my eye, hoping she felt my support. She mouthed “Thank you,” and suddenly I was glad I’d come.
We followed the rest of the mourners out of the church, where several people headed for their cars. Athena, I imagined, was already in the limo that was pulling into traffic behind the hearse. The four of us had already decided not to go to the graveside service, as that seemed like something reserved for the family.
“Athena’s mom sounds like a really neat woman,” Livvy said. She’d worn a black skirt and shirt today—not quite the same shade of black, but it was still a good color for her. It gave her face more definition somehow, and I made sure to compliment her. She looked away, uncomfortable but pleased, and I wondered if she got many compliments. She wasn’t unattractive. She had nice features and good skin; she was just . . . undone. She didn’t take the time to emphasize her good qualities, and in the process, few people likely noticed them. I made a decision right then to find something about her appearance I could compliment each time we ran into one another.
The ladies talked about going to lunch, but I had to get back to work and made my good-byes. As I headed to my office in Irvine, I thought about Athena’s loss. I had the impression that she was quite close to her parents. She would probably miss her mother and struggle with the void in her life her mother had left behind.
My parents were both alive and well in Chester, Virginia, living in the same house I’d grown up in. Dad still worked part-time for the manufacturing company he’d worked for since he’d been twenty-two years old. Last I heard, he’d taken up building cane chairs in his spare time. My mother kept busy with church work, and being a full-time grandma had replaced being a full-time mom rather seamlessly for her.
Mom called me once a month or so, but she’d always been a hard woman, and our conversations remained rather superficial, talking about everyone but the two of us. She was giving and always available to help, but she never hesitated to share her opinions or pull a punch. I hadn’t talked to my dad for months, and the relationships with my siblings had been reduced to sending Internet jokes and prayer requests. I had only one of my sisters as a friend on Facebook, though my other siblings had profiles.
I hadn’t been back to Virginia since just after Paul and I got married. I made that trip so my parents could see I could make a good choice. They’d been very nice to Paul, and the weekend visit had been just long enough to reconnect without being too much. I had left feeling good about having visited, but I also realized how far out of their world I now was.
I could be analytical and logical about the whole thing, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t saddened by the disconnect. I wondered if, when my parents finally passed away, I would regret not making more of an effort to have a relationship with them. But did I really want that to change? Did I have it in me to find a way to fix it and then maintain whatever new responsibilities came of it? The idea made my stomach—which continued to be volatile on a somewhat regular basis—even more unhappy, so I pushed past it and switched my focus to Athena, sending vibes of healing and strength her way. My parents were in their sixties, but in good health. I had more time to consider what I might want from that relationship in the future and, for now, I was content.
I realized that Athena’s mother had been healthy too. She’d been killed in an accident, unexpectedly. I might not have an indefinite period of time to fix things with my mother. But then, why wasn’t my mother r
eaching out to me? She wasn’t making an effort either, which made it harder to anticipate that my own effort would be successful. The fact was, I didn’t know if I could handle the rejection if I tried and failed to connect in a different way.
I pulled into the parking garage of my office and quickly pulled my mind away from my parents and back to the office, right where it belonged on a Wednesday afternoon. I knew how to get the work done, and over the years that had become a huge part of my self-confidence. Relationships were tricky, but policy renewals were something I could count on.
Chapter 15
As Friday drew closer, I was more and more excited for Stormy to come home. I cleaned her room, putting away all the things I’d been depositing on her bed for the last month, and made plans to cook her favorite dinner—beef stroganoff. I left work early and picked her up at Jared’s house at five. I hadn’t been to the condo he’d bought last year, and Stormy gave me a quick tour. It was about what I expected—basic furniture, not many decorations, and cluttered counters.
“Is he still dating that woman with the two little kids?” I asked Stormy as we headed downstairs. Jared had cycled through a few semi-serious relationships since the divorce but hadn’t married again, which I hypocritically felt was better for Stormy. Less chaos.
“Lyssa?” Stormy asked. “No, they broke up before I moved in. She was skanky.”
I didn’t need more details of Jared’s love life and was simply glad that he didn’t have a “skanky” girlfriend around anymore. As we finished the tour, I had to admit that Stormy was comfortable here. They seemed to be making it work.
We put together an overnight bag and then took the freeway back to Lake Forest. Stormy told me all about the play and her new school. She’d made a few friends, though she didn’t feel like they were totally “bonded, ya know?” I didn’t bring up the cheating incident, even though I felt like I needed to apologize again, and just basked in her company.
The Newport Ladies Book Club: Daisy Page 8