Looking into You

by Chris Fabry

  “But you don’t think I should.”

  “This is not about what you should or shouldn’t do. This is about you, okay?” Miriam paused to hear some response on the phone. When Treha didn’t give one, she sighed. “Elsie and I will have an all-day prayer meeting on your behalf. Charlie might even fast from his oatmeal, so you know how important this is. And I know that you’re going to make a good decision. Okay? Get some rest. See if you can overcome the migraine. Things will be a lot clearer when you get past this.”

  Treha thanked her and hung up. The sun shone brightly through the cracks in the crooked blinds. Treha put a pillow over her head and tried to go back to sleep.

  CHAPTER 28

  Paige

  Dr. Waldron stepped into my office shortly after I arrived that morning, as I was trying desperately to focus on preparations for my first class.

  “Paige, we need to talk.” He sat down, letting me know this was not a conversation for later, not optional.

  “Certainly,” I said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

  He scratched at the top of his balding head. “The news about what happened at Bethesda last night is running up and down the corridors. It has us concerned.”

  I bristled immediately. “My private life has no bearing—”

  “The public nature of this is what I’m talking about. You revealed yourself to this girl in a common area, with other students in earshot.”

  “I didn’t know . . .” I took a breath. “I agree the choice of location wasn’t the wisest. It never occurred to me that others might be listening. I would’ve never exposed Treha like that. But I don’t see why you’re concerned.”

  He gave me the look of an exasperated parent whose child should know better. “Paige, you teach at Bethesda as a representative of Millhaven. Your actions are a reflection on this school as well as—”

  “I can’t imagine the mental gymnastics someone would have to go through in order to take my teaching at Bethesda as a negative. I’m teaching them how to write, how to read great literature and understand it.”

  “Have you thought of the irony there? That you’re teaching young people to write when you can’t?”

  I sighed. “I pride myself on being a living, breathing example of irony, Dr. Waldron. Now if you’ll excuse me, I still have classes to teach.”

  I gathered my things to head out the door but the man didn’t move. “Paige, wait.”

  Everything inside me clenched, but I forced myself to pause, to lower my shoulders and hear him out.

  “Perhaps I was unwise to give my okay for the class at Bethesda. I thought it might be good for you. I thought this might help you get on track with your thesis. Now I’m questioning my judgment.”

  “What’s to question?” I said. “If this is about my thesis, I’m going to get it done. I feel closer than ever. Seriously, this whole thing with my daughter has freed me up in a way that I could never have imagined. . . .”

  “Are you sure about this young woman? That she’s your daughter?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “And . . . did you know about her when you agreed to teach at Bethesda? Did you know she was assigned to your class?”

  “No . . .” I hesitated. “Well, I learned she would be in my class just before it began. But I’d had no idea she would be at Bethesda. I considered having her removed from my class or removing myself, but . . .” How could I explain my indecision or the whole series of choices and nonchoices that had led us here? I shrugged helplessly and let him do what he would with that.

  Dr. Waldron studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “It’s a lot to take in. And coming on the heels of the situation with your parents . . . I wonder if you might need some time to process all of this. Time away.”

  I stared at him in disbelief and put my laptop case on the desk. When I had collected myself, I said, “I’m fine. I don’t need time away.”

  “Paige, no one here is against you. This is a storm we need to face together. I want to help us navigate the ship to the other side.”

  I resisted the urge to call him captain. “I appreciate that, but I assure you, there’s nothing keeping me from doing my job. Now I really need to get to my class.”

  “All right. Let’s talk again this afternoon.”

  I walked quickly, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread. Fortunately I had a deep novel to discuss in my first class, and after a while I lost myself in the rhythm of teaching. The students didn’t know it, but they helped me get through the day.

  After my last class of the afternoon, I checked my phone and saw that Treha had texted.

  Something has come up. I can’t go with you to dinner.

  I stopped in the hallway, wondering what could have happened. Perhaps she was having second thoughts about me as a mother. I went over our conversation at the IHOP. Maybe she thought I was cheap. I would have taken her to a much nicer place but I thought she would like the casual setting. It would help her feel less nervous, more relaxed.

  Becoming aware of students passing beside and around me, I ducked into the elevator and typed, That’s fine, Treha. Can’t wait to see you.

  I deleted that and started over again. No problem, Treha. Call me when . . . I backspaced. I didn’t want to give Treha any double message or suggestion that she had to take care of me. She had to feel my strength throughout this honeymoon period, if there was such a thing. The relationship had to come slowly, at her pace. As much or as little as she wanted.

  No problem, Treha. I love you.

  There. That was it. I pushed the Send button and looked up. A female student I’d never seen stared at me.

  “You’re Ms. Redwine, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I saw your video. That was amazing.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “What was the video?” someone beside her asked.

  The doors opened and even though it wasn’t my floor, I exited as the student began describing what she had seen. I took the stairs to my office and checked the other messages. There was one from a local news station. How do these people get personal phone numbers? Two women from my reading group. I wondered if Beverly had heard the news and how high she jumped when she discovered that Treha finally knew me as her mother and not just as her teacher.

  As strong as I wanted to be, as much as I wanted to absorb any pain, the text from Treha concerned me. I didn’t want to overreact but I was counting on being with her, getting to know her, and her getting to know me. As soon as I got to the office, I closed the door and dialed my mother. There was no answer, which didn’t make sense. Mom was always there. She had people from her church retrieve groceries. Perhaps there was an emergency or just a doctor’s appointment.

  “Mom, it’s Paige. Can you call me?”

  I sat at my desk, staring at the unopened mail, the ungraded papers, equally paralyzed by the past and the future. I looked at Treha’s text again to see if I had missed something in the first reading. Can you tell tone by a text? Can you tell heartache or a cry for help?

  A knock at the door. I stayed seated, paralyzed. Thankfully, I had pictures of great writers plastered over the window so no one could see inside.

  “Do you know if Ms. Redwine is in?” I heard Dr. Waldron say.

  “She’s usually here at this time, but I didn’t see her return from class.”

  I kept silent. The department secretary had been out when I came in. I could have just stood and opened the door, but I was glued to the chair. I could exit the window, but I didn’t have any bedsheets to tie together.

  “I’ll come back,” Dr. Waldron said. “Would you call me when she returns?”

  “Yes, Dr. Waldron.”

  I looked out the window and watched the sun run its successive journey. The office phone rang and I didn’t move. The secretary answered and I heard her say I hadn’t returned. A little part of me jumped inside, happy to be hidden.

  I went to the door and peeled back a corner of F
lannery O’Connor’s face to see the outer office, watching until the secretary went to the restroom. It was then that I gathered my things and quietly closed the office door behind me and slipped to the stairwell. I took the back exit off campus, the one without the security guard at the shack, and was on my way.

  I had been looking forward to Chinese and conversation with Treha, asking her questions this time, and part of me wanted to make it happen. I debated finding her in the commons but decided that was too forward. So I sat in Bethesda’s parking lot and watched from a distance, my cell phone going crazy with calls and texts. None of them were from Treha, no matter how much I wanted to hear that her schedule was now free and she wanted to meet.

  I searched through the messages again and wrote Treha a text, then deleted it. It was hard to go back after getting a taste of what it might be like to be a real mother, to show real love in tangible ways. But love is a two-way street. I knew that. God does not force himself on us. We must be receptive. And so it was with Treha.

  I thought I saw her walking toward the commons, her backpack slapping up and down, her hair bouncing. I even got out of the car and willed her to turn, but when she did, I saw another face, another student.

  Finally I couldn’t take it any longer. I pulled up her number and the call went straight to voice mail. I hung up quickly, wondering what had happened. Maybe she’d gone on a date, a real date with a boy. She had asked what the first kiss was like and I imagined her as shy and inexperienced, sitting on the periphery of life.

  I dialed again and this time let the message play, listening to the recorded phone voice and then to my daughter’s voice saying her name, Treha Langsam. The vowels were swallowed and there was a certain breathy quality.

  “Treha, I thought I would call one more time and make sure you hadn’t changed your mind. Even if you are out late, I can still come by and pick you up if you want. But it’s whatever you want. No pressure. I just want you to know I’m here and open and ready for another talk. Okay, hope you’re having a good evening.”

  I hung up and felt defeated, felt like I had just done irreparable harm to the relationship. For all I knew, Treha never wanted to see me again.

  I wasn’t hungry, at least not for food, so I sat there. I dialed my mother but got her answering machine again.

  Then the phone buzzed in my hand and I nearly dropped it. The name on the screen said Treha. I answered and heard background noise, people talking, something said loudly behind her, like in a cafeteria. Treha’s voice was muffled.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t get that, Treha. What did you say?”

  “I heard your message. I can’t have dinner with you. I don’t want to.”

  “Treha, why? What’s wrong?”

  “Anna found out the truth. I left the pictures with her at Bethesda. She said she would send them to you. I didn’t lose them.”

  “Treha, back up. I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t know why you lied to me.”

  “Lied?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. I can’t do this.”

  “What did I lie about?”

  The call cut off. My heart fluttered, beat a hundred miles an hour, and I felt disoriented, like the world had turned upside down and was spinning. What could she be talking about?

  I made my way into the Bethesda cafeteria, searching the rows of tables. As I continued, students noticed, pointing at me. I must have looked out of place as a professor where professors dared not go. Or maybe they recognized me from the video.

  “Ms. Redwine!” A female student from my writing class waved from the corner and came forward. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m looking for Treha. Have you seen her?”

  She shook her head and looked around. “No. She usually sits back there.”

  “She mentioned a friend of hers. Anna? Do you know her?”

  “Sure, Anna Waddel. I think I saw her . . . Yeah, there she is. Blue top at the table right behind the pillar.”

  “Thank you.” I said it absently, hoping that Treha would somehow be at the table and willing to talk. Anna was sitting alone, however, and her eyes grew wide when she saw me approach.

  “I have something for you, Ms. Redwine,” Anna said. She pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. “I was going to mail it to you. Treha said you needed them back.”

  I stuffed the envelope in my purse. “Where is she?”

  The girl looked sheepishly at her salad, then back up. “She said she was going to call you. Tell you what we found. I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way. Honestly, I didn’t.”

  “Turn out what way?”

  “She didn’t call you?”

  “She said I lied to her. What was she talking about? Does she think I’m not her mother?”

  Anna frowned. “I told her I wouldn’t talk about this. Or write about it. I’m not even supposed to tell you where she’s—”

  “You’re not supposed to tell me what? Anna, where is my daughter?”

  Something inside took over and I grabbed the girl by an arm as if I could wrench the truth from her. I’m not a violent person, but I wasn’t going to let go until she told me. “Where did she go?”

  “She left, Ms. Redwine.”

  I loosened my grip and searched the girl’s eyes.

  “She got Cameron to give her a ride. A friend of hers.”

  “A ride where?”

  “To the airport. She said she was going home. To Arizona.”

  The background noise. It wasn’t from a cafeteria. It was the airport. I ran from the room to the parking lot and got in my car.

  I drove toward the airport, calling her number again and again, but by the time I drew close, I knew. Treha was gone and wasn’t coming back.

  CHAPTER 29

  Treha

  Treha awoke the next morning at first light. The brewing coffee was the first thing she noticed, the smell wafting through the house like the perfume of a welcome friend. She sat up in bed in the spare room of Miriam and Charlie Howard and looked out the window at the Catalina Mountains. There were fewer trees here and very little grass, but the view was magnificent. There had been a chill in the air back in Tennessee, but there was not even a hint of it here.

  Her migraine was gone. So was the feeling that she was living in the wrong place with the wrong people, cooped up in a dorm full of young women who didn’t understand. She didn’t belong at Bethesda. She didn’t belong with those smart professors and good-looking students who wore nice clothes and had answers to all the questions.

  She was back in her old outfit of scrubs, and the familiar clothing gave her a peaceful feeling. It felt like belonging. She walked into the hall and saw movement in the kitchen but turned left and headed to Charlie’s office. She had missed the man. He wasn’t the most talkative person on the planet, but that felt good. There was a quiet confidence to his silence.

  Charlie was behind his computer watching the early morning stocks from overseas tick by on the screen. A television was on across the room, mounted to the wall, tuned to Bloomberg. The local talk radio station was on in the background but somewhat muted, a commercial promoting a website to watch a video about a talking dog.

  “How’d you sleep?” he said, not looking up from the screen. Some people would feel it awkward to talk with someone like Charlie but Treha found it easier than having someone look at her and expect her to respond.

  “Okay. It felt good to be back in my old bed again.”

  “I’ll bet. Those dorm room mattresses can be a real pain.”

  She sat in a chair near his desk and stared at the constant movement on the screen.

  “I’ve got a stack of crossword puzzles I haven’t been able to finish. Just waiting for you to come back and help me.”

  Treha hadn’t said much to Miriam on the way home from the airport. The woman had asked if she wanted to go to Desert Gardens with her today and Treha said she would sleep on it. Part of her wanted to stay in bed all day. Another
part of her wanted to sit with Elsie and listen to her and talk. Part of her didn’t want to talk about any of it.

  Charlie turned and took off his glasses. “I have to say, selfishly, I’m glad you’re back. Miriam hasn’t been the same with you gone. She picks up the phone about a hundred times every night and kind of rubs it like you’re the genie in a bottle, hoping you’ll materialize. You not being here has increased her prayer life. That’s one positive.”

  “Is it okay with you if I stay here?”

  “Fine with me. I want what’s best. We both do.”

  “And what do you think is best?”

  He looked back at the screen. “Today, with oil futures rising, the best is probably going to be one of the big companies. Maybe Exxon Mobil.”

  “I’m not talking about stocks.”

  “I know you’re not, but you’re also not really looking for advice. I don’t have any idea what the best thing is for you, Treha. I’ve never been a parent. But I have a sense that you’re going to figure it out. And the best thing we can do is just be here to watch you take the ride.”

  Treha had never heard Charlie speak so many words. “Did you hear that my mother found me?”

  “My ear is still ringing from the whoop that Miriam let out. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “She’s not who I thought she would be.”

  Charlie nodded and looked at the screen again. “Not many of us are.”

  “Why do people lie?”

  “Probably because they’re scared of the truth. I think deep down we’re trying to figure things out. Find where we belong. Some of us come to rest in a ditch and it’s too hard to get out, so we get stuck and pretty soon stuck becomes comfortable and we just stay there. While others do the hard thing.”

  “Where are you?” Treha said. “Are you doing the hard thing or are you stuck?”

  “I moved the furniture into the ditch.” He smiled and looked at her from the corner of his eye. “You should get something to eat. Want me to make you something?”