“Mia, wait!” Jenna ran after her, stumbling over the uneven ground, losing her footing and catching herself. The effort burned her lungs and her legs protested in vain.
“What’s that?” Mia screamed into the wind that whipped against her light jacket, throwing her hair backwards.
Nestled amongst a patch of overgrown sea grass sat a frosted turquoise ball swaddled in a thick brown rope.
“Mia! Don’t you dare do that—Oh my God, Gabe ... she found a glass float!” Jenna called back breathlessly, sinking to her knees beside her daughter.
“What’s this, Momma?” Mia asked again, handing the ball to Jenna.
“Mia, this is a Japanese glass float. They’re very, very rare. I can’t believe you found one.” Jenna held the glass ball in her hands, turning it over slowly.
“It’s pretty.” Mia put her arm around Jenna’s shoulder, peeking at the float.
“This, Mia, is very, very special. Do you see how the glass looks frosted?” Jenna pointed the places between the ropes where the sugary glass peaked through. “It’s because the ocean water batters against the glass, turning it into sea glass. This comes a long, long way ... all the way from Japan. The fishermen use it to secure their nets out in the ocean. But once in a while, one falls off and gets lost. It takes years and years, but it travels the miles against the sea—surviving everything—to land here.”
“Wow ... ” Mia sighed softly, stretching her hands out for the ball again.
“It’s a treasure Mia. You should bring it home and take care of it always.” Jenna handed the ball back to Mia, who held it up to the light, letting the sun glint off the dingy panes.
“Mia!” Gabe thundered, catching up to them. “I told you— do not run off!” His breath came in jagged gulps and whooshes.
“She got excited, that’s all,” Jenna calmed him, standing up slowly, stretching her legs.
“That’s no excuse. She could have been hurt.” Gabe’s face was set in anger and frustration, his hands rested on his hips.
“Sorry, Daddy.” Mia looked down, kicking a few rocks.
“Sorry, nothing. If you can’t listen to what we tell you, you’re going to get hurt. You need to stop and think before you do stuff, Mia, Jesus ... ” Gabe sighed, letting the anger pass.
“She found a float,” Jenna offered, pointing to the precious item in Mia’s hand.
“That’s very cool, Mia ... but it doesn’t change anything.”
“I was with her the whole time,” Jenna added softly, patting Gabe’s arm.
“Why don’t we head back, get some lunch? We can take a drive to the rainforest if you girls want?” Gabe offered, brushing her off.
~ * * * ~
“Bye Mia. I love you. I’ll see you after school!” Jenna bounced on the soles of her feet, waving as the old school bus pulled out of their drive.
The weekend had been blissful. They had laughed, cooked out on an old barbecue beside the rental cabin, watching carefully for stray bears and admiring the elk that grazed on the plot of land beside them. They walked the coast and explored the rainforest, shopped in downtown Forks. It was wonderful, the time together, just their little family.
Jenna padded back into the entry, hanging her sweater on a waiting hook. She had a few errands to run, but none of the stores opened for hours, and she jotted a few more groceries she should get down on the list. She cleared the table, wiping the wide, polished planks with a soapy towel, changed their weekend laundry over to the dryer, and swept the floor in the mudroom. When she couldn’t put it off any longer, she reached for the phone.
“Casa Bella,” Sophia’s sweet southern voice drawled on the other end.
Jenna could see her: the perfectly coifed, blond and sleek bob, the red lacquered lips, the long manicured nails with blunt white tips and pink cuticles.
“Sophia, hi,” Jenna answered.
“Oh, Jenna.” The ice crept into her voice, the remnants of her Chicago accent picking up as she spat the words.
“I was just calling to say hi ... is this a bad time?” Jenna twisted the cord of the phone around her finger nervously.
“No. It’s fine. Let me take this in the back room.” Jenna could hear Sophia place the receiver on the counter and instruct someone to hang it up. “Sorry about that. So what’s going on?” Sophia returned a moment later.
“I’m just calling to touch base, you know. How are the boys?”
“Good, busy. What did you need?” Sophia tone was sharp and riddled with accusations she’d never level.
“I don’t know ... okay ... Soph, the cancer’s back,” Jenna stuttered, stammering over her words wishing this were easier.
“Oh?” Sophia retorted casually, as though this was simple conversational call and Jenna was prattling about the grocery store or post office rather than telling her sister that, despite her best efforts, she wasn’t in remission.
“Yeah.”
“Are you seeing that specialist in Seattle still?” Sophia asked with a hint of urgency
“No, that’s kind of why I called. I didn’t—I don’t ... I’ve stopped treatment.”
“ … Why?” Jenna could hear the air rush from Sophia’s lungs. Her voice was thready and reserved and stunned.
“Because there was no point in continuing. The cancers spread.” Jenna closed her eyes against the truth and waited.
“What does that even mean, Jenna?” Sophia whispered.
“It means I have six months, Soph.”
“Oh.” Her chilly tone returned in earnest, brittle and formal.
“I’m sorry to call you at work. I just thought—maybe—you’d want to know ... ” Jenna didn’t know what else to say.
“Mia and Gabe … ” Sophia’s voice trailed off.
Jenna knew where her mind was. Far and away, back in Chicago in the little bungalow, a little girl again facing the same daunting things.
“They’re okay. We’re managing,” Jenna answered honestly. She wanted to tell Sophia that Gabe was good man, a solid father, nothing like their own Dad, that Mia was going to be fine and loved, but she couldn’t.
“Well, thank you for calling and telling me. I’m very sorry, I’m sure this is ... very hard.” Her voice was soft. The edge had left it, surprising Jenna. She sounded compassionate and kind.
“Yeah, well—”
“Listen, Jen, I’m swamped. Really swamped. Can I call you later?”
“Yeah, sure of course. Sorry. I just wanted to know if maybe, over the summer, you wanted to come here—we could—”
“I really can’t discuss that right now, Jenna.”
“Sorry,” Jenna found herself apologizing again, tripping over her words.
“It’s no problem. Bye, now.”
Jenna held the phone close to her ear, the other end cut off with an audible click. The tears silently slipped down her cheeks, she dug her fingertips into the top of her counter, wishing her scream away.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Compassion, kindness, maybe something more. Jenna sat at the counter for a long time, her coffee growing tepid in the cup beside her. She couldn’t move; it was as though she was suddenly rooted in place. She wanted her mother. She wanted to hear her voice and wanted something to say, ‘this is where you come from, this is where you were first loved, this is where you’re still loved, you will be okay.’ And maybe that’s what she had wanted from Sophia. Why she called in the first place. The touchstone, the connection. It was hallow and empty now. Everything that made her family hers was gone.
Jenna climbed woodenly from the stool and wandered into her room. The blinds were snapped shut from last night, and the bed had been left unmade. Gabe’s boxers and T-shirt lay in a forgotten pile by the bathroom; her robe was draped across the chaise at the foot of the bed. The television was on, loops of the seven day forecast played on, while a smiling meteorologist pointed to clouds and rain and high winds. She lay down in her bed, pulling the heavy comforter over herself, shielding herself
from all signs of life.
~ * * * ~
Mia bounded off the bus hours later, running towards the house with her lower lip quivering.
“Mia? Mia? What’s wrong honey?” Jenna held the door open as Mia burst through waving to the bus driver once before pushing it closed.
Mia was crying now, dense wails rocked her tiny body as she tore her rain jacket off, leaving it in a forgotten pile by the door.
Jenna wrapped her arms around Mia tightly, pulling her up into her arms.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” She rocked Mia. Mia wrapped her arms and legs around Jenna, clinging.
“The kids on the bus ... made ... made...” Her voice got lost in fresh howls.
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jenna soothed, patting her back gently.
“They said ... they said ... I’m ... I’m ... stupid.” Mia cried harder into Jenna’s shoulder, hiccupping and gasping.
“Oh, Mia that’s not true, that’s not true.”
“McKenna and Hailey said they can’t be my friend anymore because I’m dumb.”
Jenna pulled Mia back and looked at her. “Mia Elizabeth Chamberland, you are not dumb. Why would they say that?” Jenna carried Mia into the family room and sat down on the couch, spinning Mia so that she was on her lap, still draped across her.
Jenna waited while Mia calm down, her sobs thawing into heavy breathing and soft, quick sighs.
“Ms. Field asked me to read out loud in front of the class, and I didn’t know a couple words. Everyone laughed, but Ms. Field told them to stop it and be nice; she was real angry. And at lunch, McKenna and Hailey said I couldn’t sit with them because I got them in trouble by being dumb.”
“Oh,” Jenna breathed out a heavy sigh, hugging Mia closer. She felt furious, hurt for her little girl who was obviously wounded by words. She wanted to call their mothers, to wring their necks and teach them the value of being kind. But she wouldn’t.
“I tried not to cry Momma, I did. But they were whispering and laughing at me. I had to sit alone and no one played with me at recess.”
“Baby girl.” Jenna rocked her daughter slowly. “I’m sorry you had a bad day.”
“I’m not going to school anymore,” Mia decided, clinging to Jenna.
“Oh, I think that’s a bit of an overreaction. You like school and you like your teacher, you just can’t quit.”
“No I don’t!”
“Mia, listen to me, what happened today—it happens, and it sucks, but sweetheart, you can’t just quit school. People, especially girls, can be unkind. I don’t know why that is, and I wish I did, but I don’t. Sometimes people are mean because they think it’s funny, and sometimes people are mean just to be mean because it makes them feel tough and cool. But when you give them power over you, when you stop being yourself so that they will like you, or you run away because it’s tough, they win.”
Mia nuzzled her mother’s neck, sighing heavily.
“You have to be brave. And if McKenna and Hailey don’t want to sit with you at lunch or play with you at recess, you make new friends. You are a beautiful, smart little girl and if they don’t want to play with you, it’s their loss. But, Mia, no matter what, you must always be nice, because what they want from you, honey, is a reaction. They want you to get upset and cry and feel bad ... so when you are strong, they learn that the mean things they say and the nasty things they do, none of that can touch you or change you.”
“It hurt my feelings,” Mia started to whimper again, the memory of her pain almost as strong as the pain itself.
“I know baby, I know. But you have other friends, like Sarah. Sit with her,” Jenna suggested.
Jenna held Mia until she pulled away.
~ * * * ~
“Hey girls.” Gabe walked through the door, dropping his briefcase and hanging up his coat.
“Hey hon, dinner’s almost ready—you have time to get changed,” Jenna called from behind the stove.
“How was your day?” He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck.
“Long. I talked to Sophia.” Jenna spun around, holding him close.
“How’d that go?” he murmured in her ear quietly.
“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Jenna kissed his lips quickly.
“Okay, let me get changed and I’ll help set the table.” He wandered over to Mia, who was working on her homework at the breakfast bar, and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading back to the bedroom.
“Mia, honey, dinner’s almost ready, can you get your work picked up?” Jenna asked, spooning a summer mix of vegetables into a bowl.
“So how was work?” Jenna asked, cutting Mia’s chicken into bite- sized pieces.
“Good. The house is fantastic.” Gabe sipped his glass of wine.
“Momma? Did you call Sarah’s Mom?” Mia asked.
“I did. Sarah is going to Bright Start Girls Club. I signed you up for the morning session.” Jenna nodded, passing Mia her plate.
“Awesome. Thanks.” Mia speared a piece of meat, blowing on it before popping it into her mouth.
“So, you called Soph?” Gabe asked casually, placing a roll on his plate.
Jenna looked down and shook her head. Gabe let a long breath out and set his fork down. “I’m sorry, babe.”
“No. It’s okay. I called her at work, she was busy,” Jenna dismissed, motioning for Gabe to eat. “We can talk about it later.” She glanced at Mia, who was busy munching on her salad.
“She’s a real piece of work,” Gabe began.
“Stop. Not now. We will talk about it later, okay?” Jenna fixed him with a meaningful stare. Whatever her problems with Sophia were, Sophia was good to Mia and Mia loved her aunt. It wasn’t the sort of conversation that they should have in front of her.
“Fine.” Gabe went back to his dinner.
After supper, Jenna tucked Mia in for the night, read her a quick story and turned off the lights. Gabe had showered and was settled on the wing chair in their reading nook, waiting. She took roost on the chair beside him.
“I called Sophia, and it didn’t go ... well,” Jenna began slowly, folding her legs under her.
Gabe nodded patiently and waited for her to continue.
“It wasn’t awful, but she was busy. The conversation was forced. I asked to her visit.” Jenna gnawed her lips, imagining how desperate she must have sounded.
“Is she coming here?” Gabe’s eyes opened wide, he looked almost hopeful. Sophia had never visited. Jenna and Gabe had traveled to South Carolina when Mia was a baby and Sophia had just had Harlen, and again when Caleb was born.
“No. I don’t know. She was busy.” Jenna wiped a tear from under her eye.
“She was too busy to discuss this?” Gabe raised his brows in curiosity, a hard edge to his voice.
“I guess. I felt bad. I kept apologizing and tripping over my words.”
“Jen … ”
“Gabe, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” She put her hands over her face, shaking her head slowly back and forth.
“You’re doing the best you can. It’s all you ... or anyone, really ... can do. You have to stop beating yourself up over everything that doesn’t come easily.”
“I just wanted her to care. To give a shit for once, to put the other stuff aside and worry.”
“I’m sure, in her way, she does. But this is close to home, she lived through this once, it has to be very hard for her.”
“And I ran away.” Jenna dropped her hands and locked eyes with Gabe.
“No. That’s not what I’m implying, Jenna. I’m saying, just think about it: Mia’s not much younger than she was—a few years only. And the whole thing really fucked her life up; she’s probably scared.”
“But she’s my sister. She’s where I come from. She’s my family, I need her,” Jenna whispered softly.
“I know, honey, but you can’t force her to be who you want her to be. She’s not been that sort of sister for a long
time.”
“I know. I just wish—”
“It doesn’t always look like what you’d imagine.” Gabe dropped to knees in front of Jenna and gathered her hands in his. “But we’re where you come from, too. We’re your family, we love you.”
“I know that—but it’s not the same,” Jenna blushed, she felt feverish and hot.
“Then you know what you do, Jenna? You figure out how to make what you have work. Sophia may never come around, and if she doesn’t, then what? You’ve tried, honestly Jenna, I don’t think anyone tries harder to be better than you do. Sometimes you can move things with your will ... and sometimes, honey, you just can’t.”
“You know what the hardest part is, Gabe? It’s all the stuff I’ll never have, all the things I’ll never see or do or be. And it’s not tangible stuff, or even things we’ve had. It’s nothing you can buy, nowhere you can just go. It’s the stuff like having had another baby, watching Mia grow up, growing old with you, being close to my sister ... the things I want most in this world, the things I thought I’d have. It’s admitting that this is and I’m scared. I’m not ready. I don’t know how to be ready. I don’t want to go, I don’t want to leave you,” Jenna wept, heavy tears full of realization and grief. Gabe rested his forehead against hers in silence.
“You have to be strong, Jenna, you have to be brave.” Tears ran down Gabe’s face as he held her hands over his heart.
“That sounds like what I tell Mia,” Jenna laughed lightly.
“It’s good advice.” Gabe wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt.
“I’m scared for you, Gabe, I can’t imagine—raising Mia, being alone—it’s not what you signed up for, we were supposed to do this together.”
“Jenna, I need you to believe what I’m about to tell you, okay? Because I’m not sure about a lot of things, but I do know this for certain: I’m not scared—well, not about the same things you are.” He steadied his voice. “Whatever it takes, that’s what I’m going to do. Whatever that means, it means. She’s my little girl, and you never, ever have to worry about her, not for a minute.”
The Milestone Tapes Page 6