Finding Isadora

by Fox, Susan

  Grace gave a patient sigh. “You know Jimmy Lee and I met in college, right? When he came up from Georgia to attend Boston University? We connected right away, had the same values even though we came from such different backgrounds.”

  My mother’s family were blue-blood northern snobs and Jimmy Lee’s were redneck southern crackers. Amazing that both sets of parents had managed to spawn left-wing activists.

  “Grace, I know all this. He burned his draft card, the two of you came to Canada. Get to the point.”

  “We were together a long time and went through a lot together. We knew we shared something special, quite different from with the other people we slept with.”

  “You do.” And I’d never understood why two people who shared such a special love would want to sleep with other partners.

  “When we were in our thirties, we talked about it,” Grace said. “We figured that kind of love should produce a child, and we decided that’s what we wanted to do. Of course we couldn’t be sure we’d last forever as a couple, but we trusted each other. We knew we’d always be friends, always stand by our child.”

  I carried the phone into the living room and sank down in my rattan basket chair. Pogo settled himself on my feet, anchoring me. “So you made the decision to have a child, and the two of you were faithful?”

  “I went off the pill and we were faithful. That was a special time. It brought us closer than we’d imagined two people could be. Planning for you, experiencing my pregnancy. And your birth.”

  “At the commune.” I nodded into the phone. This part I knew. My parents had lived in a huge, ramshackle old house in the Fraser Valley with a dozen other people. Most of the household had gathered around as a midwife supervised and Jimmy Lee delivered Grace’s baby. We had photos in a family album.

  “Why are you asking this question now, hon?” Grace asked

  “I…” I couldn’t tell Grace about Richard’s situation. “I was thinking about free love and being the child of hippie parents. It hit me that it would be such a shock to suddenly find out the person you’d thought of as your father all your life wasn’t really your father.”

  “I suppose. The same kind of thing as for people who find out later in life that they were adopted. But the parents who raised and loved you would be your real parents in every meaningful sense of the word.”

  Ah, but Gabriel had never really been there for Richard. However, Grace and I were talking hypotheticals now, not about my own or Richard’s situation. “In emotional terms, I’m sure that’s true. But what about things like genetic traits? Illnesses, predispositions. I mean, what if one of your biological parents had some horrible disease, and you had the gene for it, and you could help prevent it by doing certain things—or you could get tested so it would be diagnosed early and treated? Shouldn’t you know this stuff?”

  When I paused for breath, Grace started to say something, but I kept right on going. “You might live your life differently. You might not get married. Would it be fair on your spouse to have to nurse you and watch you die? You might not have kids because you could pass the disease along.” My voice had risen and speeded up as I began to identify with Richard’s panic. Now I understood his desire to know everything about his heredity.

  Grace chuckled softly. “You modern young people. Jimmy Lee and I didn’t give the slightest thought to what genetic traits lurked in our families.”

  Of course they hadn’t; they’d probably been too stoned. I refrained from pointing out that rational planning wasn’t something either of them had ever cared about.

  “Very few people have ever had the kind of information you’re talking about,” Grace went on. “Really horrible, obvious things like hemophilia, maybe. But we’re only just figuring out what other diseases may have a genetic component. Things like Alzheimer’s, Huntington’s, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia. Seems to me, hon, that when you love someone and they love you, the two of you want to be together. You don’t leave someone because they’re sick. So, would you somehow manage to prevent yourself from loving them just because they might get sick later?”

  I’d said something similar to Richard. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what about children? If both parents carried a gene for some awful illness, shouldn’t they know? So they could make an informed decision about having children?”

  “Having a baby is always a risk. People with perfect genes, perfect health, can have children with dreadful physical and mental problems. And if two people love each other and want to create a baby out of that love—like Jimmy Lee and I did—they take their chances, sure. But they’re going to have a child they love with all their hearts. Even if that little girl or boy has a physical or mental illness.”

  “But is it fair to bring a child into the world when there’s a likelihood it might have a serious problem?”

  “Hmm.” She paused. “That’s a complicated question. I’d say it’s fair on the parents if they know the risk they’re taking, but maybe it isn’t if they don’t. So I see what you mean about making an informed decision. As for the child, I think it’s fair to her or him because otherwise that unique human being wouldn’t exist at all.”

  Grace went on, her tone reflective. “But then there’s society. Is it fair to society, to the taxpayers who are going to have to pay for support services? But on the other hand, society has reaped huge benefits from people with serious illnesses. Look at Stephen Hawking with ALS, Michael J. Fox with Parkinson’s, and Patty Duke with bipolar disorder. Surely no-one would ever say the world would be better off without them. Not only have they made a contribution in their professions, but they’ve done so much to increase public awareness about their illnesses.”

  I nodded thoughtfully, wishing Grace and I, and Jimmy Lee too, were having this discussion in their living room, sharing wine or herbal tea. This was one of the best things about my parents—their intelligence, curiosity, and openness. They never settled for easy answers. They were as eager to explore and debate, to argue and change their minds, as they must have been in university days.

  “What if the illness was fatal at a young age?” I said. “What if the child was in horrible pain?”

  “That’s every parent’s nightmare,” Grace said softly. “I do see your point, hon, but parenthood is scary. If you worry about everything that might happen, you’ll paralyze yourself.”

  “But if you can prevent something bad from happening, then wouldn’t you?”

  “I suppose. But Isadora, where’s this coming from? Are you worrying about you and Richard having kids? You’re both healthy young people with healthy parents. Don’t overcomplicate things.”

  I hadn’t been, not until Richard had started me worrying. As for him… Was this concern about hereditary problems a smokescreen to prevent himself from admitting that what he really wanted to know was whether Gabriel DeLuca was his father?

  “You’re right,” I said. “Grace, I’m so glad you’re my mother. And that Jimmy Lee’s my father. You two are the best.”

  “Well! Thanks, Isadora. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you say that before.”

  “I know I often focus on the ways we’re different, the issues we disagree on. But you’re the ones who taught me that it’s good for people to have different opinions as long as we aren’t hurting anyone. Even more important, you’ve always supported me and loved me.”

  “And always will.” She paused. “So, you’re okay now?”

  “I’m good. Night, Grace. Kiss Jimmy Lee for me.”

  I hung up feeling darned lucky. And sorry for Richard.

  Grace hadn’t resolved all the issues Richard had raised in my mind, but she’d given me the key. Love. If you loved someone, you could face anything together.

  Now that I was off the phone, Pogo resumed bouncing around my feet. “Sorry, baby. You want to go out.”

  On the way to the door I stroked Owl’s colorful head and said, “I’ll feed you and the cats the moment I get back,” to which he replied, “So yo
u say, cutie.”

  I gathered Pogo’s leash and a couple of poop-scoop bags. Typically, we walked about a mile before bed, and again in the morning. The streets of the West End held no fear for me since there were so many people out and about at every hour of the day or night. The neighborhood was a spicy, bubbly stew of old and young, gay and straight, Caucasian and every other race under the sun, and I found the mix savory and delicious. I wasn’t blind to risk and always stayed alert, but rarely did I feel even the tiniest hint of a threat.

  Pogo hopped along happily, as nimble and self-confident as any four-legged dog, and I indulged him as he investigated the smells that had accumulated since Mr. Schultz had taken him out earlier.

  Reflecting on my chats with Richard and Grace, I thought that Pogo was imperfect, with his missing leg. But if anything I loved him more, not less, because of it.

  * * *

  This week, my days off were Saturday and Sunday. I’d expected Richard to stay over on Friday night, so felt at loose ends when I woke alone. I called to see how he was, and ask if he was interested in meeting for a meal.

  “I’m okay, thanks, Iz. But there’s a big file I’m working on so I’m afraid I’d best keep at it.”

  “Are you going to talk to Gabriel?”

  “I think so. Maybe tomorrow. I’ll give myself another night to sleep on it.”

  “Sleep here, Richard. It doesn’t matter if you come in late. Remember what you said about living together?”

  “I’m so messed up about this, I feel like being alone.”

  And when we were married, would he still want to be alone when he had a problem? Now—when he was still stricken by Diane’s news—was not the time for this discussion, so I tried to shove away my worries and hurt feelings. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “You’re the best. Love you.”

  After hanging up, I took Pogo for a brisk walk, popped into the gym for a workout, then showered and dressed in shorts and a sleeveless top. I made a couple of batches of chocolate walnut squares, one for me and one for Mr. Schultz. He loved home baking and I took him some kind of sweet treat each week.

  It wasn’t even noon and I’d run out of things to do. Normally I’d have gone to the library and browsed magazines, done some balcony gardening, or called Janice or another friend, but I wasn’t in the mood for any of those things. I was worried about the arson charge, Richard, the future of our relationship. My values and priorities; whether I was being a good enough citizen. And then there was Gabriel.

  Was it childish to run home when I was feeling unsettled?

  I dialed my parents’ number. Jimmy Lee answered. “Hey, Izzie, heard you and Grace had a pretty serious talk last night. How’s my girl today?”

  The answer to that question would take a very long time. Besides, I didn’t really want to discuss my worries, I just wanted to mellow out in my parents’ company. “I’m okay, Jimmy Lee. Wondering how things are going on your case, and with that little girl. If you’re not doing anything, how about I come over?”

  “Great. The more the merrier. See you soon.”

  The more the merrier? Oh, of course, Alyssa would be there. I’d have preferred to have my parents to myself, but I was curious to meet the girl they’d taken in.

  My parents’ apartment was just a couple of miles from mine, so I snapped my fingers at Pogo. “Want to go see my folks?” Grace and Jimmy Lee’s cats wouldn’t be impressed, but Pogo would love the walk and was usually happy to doze on an old blanket in the kitchen.

  I packaged up some of my freshly made squares and Pogo and I were off. We walked down to the seawall, then along the paved path onto the Burrard Bridge. The bridge afforded a fantastic view, and we stopped at the mid-point to watch a sailboat put out to sea, kayakers in brightly colored life jackets, and a couple of teams of dragon boat rowers getting in their practice.

  Over the bridge, we shunned the sidewalks and hiked along by the ocean, through Vanier Park, past the kite flyers, and down to Kits Beach where the fine weather had brought sunbathers out en masse. There was nothing like the rear view of a chubby man in an orange thong bikini. Much more appealing were the fit young people playing beach volleyball. Assessing them with a keen eye, I thought Richard’s physique would have stood up quite nicely, even in this athletic company.

  Fit and attractive, yes. So why didn’t I find him hot? Well, I didn’t find any of the volleyball players hot either. In fact, in my life, the only person I’d ever thought was hot was Gabriel.

  I shoved that troubling perception out of my mind and tugged Pogo away from the beachside park and up into Kitsilano. At a Korean grocery I stopped to buy kim chee, the pickled vegetables my family loved. Huge, bright oranges attracted my eye and I tossed a half dozen of the heaviest into a bag.

  Grace and Jimmy Lee’s apartment building stood in a block of mostly similar ones. Built in the fifties or sixties, each was a simple rectangular box four or five stories high. My parents’ had a tacky blue-green façade, small rooms, and a tiny balcony per apartment. They’d chosen it because the rent was cheap and they liked the neighborhood. I was afraid the building—the entire block—would soon be demolished in favor of expensive townhouses or condos, but when I mentioned the possibility to my parents they merely shrugged and said they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

  They were fatalists and I was a planner. Sometimes it really was difficult to believe I was their child, but Grace wouldn’t lie to me.

  I used my key to open the front door of the building, then Pogo and I took the painfully slow elevator to the third floor, where I knocked on the door of the apartment. Time and again my parents had told me to walk right in, but after twice catching them naked together, I now stuck with the formality of knocking and waiting for someone to call “come in.”

  Today it was Jimmy Lee’s voice. Juggling groceries and leash, I let myself in. Grace was just hanging up the phone and said, “Leave the door open, hon.”

  “But the cats will get out.”

  “Gabriel’s right behind you.”

  I jumped like a startled doe, and spun around. Grace laughed. “I mean, that was him downstairs. He’s on his way up.”

  Gabriel. I’d come to my parents for peace and instead they were giving me the person most designed to disturb me. Feeling betrayed, I grumbled, “What’s he doing here?”

  She studied me, her eyes narrowed. “What’s up with the two of you?”

  “What?” My voice squeaked. “What do you mean? Nothing’s up.”

  “There’s a weird vibe between you. A tension, energy, it’s—”

  Before she could speculate further, I jumped in, knowing my cheeks were flushed by now. “He and Richard aren’t on the best of terms. It makes things awkward.”

  “Hmm.” Before she could go on, a timer went off in the kitchen and she hurried away.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, then squared my shoulders as I turned to my father. Was he going to pick up where Grace had left off? To distract him, I thrust the groceries into his arms, saying, “I got kim chee.”

  “Great. Thanks, Izzie.” He gave me a hug, his beard tickling my cheek. “You were asking why Gabe’s here. We gotta talk about the case.”

  And they couldn’t do that at Gabriel’s office, like normal people? “Then I should go.”

  “Don’t be silly. You should hear what’s going on.”

  I did want to know. And my thumping heart told me that, for some reason that didn’t bear thinking about, I wanted to see Gabriel. A quick glance downward confirmed that today I was respectably covered, and even wearing a bra.

  “Let me take those into the kitchen and get Pogo settled.” I grabbed the bags back from Jimmy Lee and scuttled into the kitchen, hoping to get myself under control before I faced Richard’s father.

  Grace was pulling a couple of loaves of multigrain bread, studded with nuts and seeds, out of the oven. “Did I hear you say kim chee?” she asked over her shoulder.

 
“And oranges and squares.”

  “Terrific. That’ll round things out nicely. Jimmy Lee made this bread and I’m going to grill vegetables.” She dumped the bread onto a rack and turned to me. “Everything’s all right? With you and Richard and Gabriel?”

  “Of course. Just, you know, a little awkward. So, you invited Gabriel for lunch?”

  “Sure. Work’s always more pleasant over food.”

  Though my parents never had money to spare, they’d always been generous about feeding people. They believed just about anything went better with food. “But you can’t discuss the case with Gabriel while Alyssa’s here.” I found Pogo’s old blanket in the bottom of a cupboard and spread it for him, settling him in the least busy corner of the small kitchen. “Where is she anyhow? I’m dying to meet her.”

  Grace had started to slice zucchini and green pepper. “She’s playing with a little girl who lives on the ground floor. Ming-Na’s mom took them both over to the community center for a Tai Chi class.”

  “Have you told Gabriel?”

  “About Tai Chi?”

  “Grace!”

  Her knife stilled and she glanced at me, her eyes twinkling. “No, we haven’t told him about Alyssa.”

  “He has to know.”

  “We’ll see where the conversation goes over lunch.” She reached out and gripped my chin firmly. “Don’t you spill the beans. This is our business.”

  “Fine.” Annoyed, I stalked out of the kitchen.

  And straight into Gabriel. Our bodies touched for the briefest moment before we both leaped backwards, but the contact shot a bolt of heat through me.

  We stared at each other. His hair was unbound and slightly damp, moisture from the ends darkening the faded gray Sierra Club T-shirt he wore with jeans. The plainest of clothes, but as usual he looked thoroughly masculine and sexy. “Isadora,” he said flatly. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”