Ginny rose to feet slowly, the battered legs of her chair scraping loudly against the washed out linoleum floor. She gathered Jenna in her arms, like a mother would hold her adult child, close and with all the love in the world nestled between them.
“I know, honey, I know,” Ginny soothed, and Jenna, under the loving touch, unraveled. All the fears, frustrations and disappointments melted into a wash of tears. It was like Ginny had pulled a single thread, and fabric of Jenna’s composure disentangled itself.
“I’m sorry Jenna, I’m so sorry,” Ginny hushed sympathetically, rubbing circles over the surface of Jenna’s back. “It’s okay to cry, sugar, let it out.”
Jenna bawled into Ginny’s ample shoulder, allowing herself to be held, comforted and soothed. She could feel the tears soaking the heavy cotton T-shirt. She needed this cry, to feel helpless, alone and scared, with the permission to feel all of that. It was a relief, to uncork all of these fears and have someone understand.
“I think what you’re doing, sugar, is a wonderful thing, the best thing.” Ginny held tight, whispering softly into Jenna’s ear, so close that Jenna could feel the heat from her sweet breath wash over her. “When my youngest, Sharon, got married just a few years back, she missed her Daddy so much. Happiest day of her life, but it didn’t matter, she was just missing her Daddy. I wish I had thought of havin’ him make something sweet for her, like you’re doin’ for Mia, it’s a loving, kind thing.”
Jenna loosened her grip on Ginny and pulled back slowly. She grabbed Ginny’s hands tightly, “Ginny, I need you to watch over my family. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but I need that much,” Jenna pleaded.
“Oh Jenna.”
“I know it’s a lot. But you’re so good with Mia, and she’s going to need someone. I’m scared Gabe’s going to be … lost for a long time … she’s going to need someone to lean on to help take care of her, please,” Jenna entreated.
“I love Mia like she was my own, Jenna, there is no way I’d leave her, ever. And Gabe too, and you … you’re family to me.” Ginny locked eyes with Jenna.
“Ginny.” Jenna wiped under her eyes and pulled a tissue from her pocket. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“You’re gonna do what you have to do.”
~ * * * ~
Jenna watched the tide roll over the bay below her. She stood at the end of her land, feeling like it was end of the world. Mia was playing a few strides back, and Gabe was lounged on a lawn chair. It was early, Ginny would be collecting Mia soon, and Gabe would sneak off to work with an apologetic smile. It was the sort of morning that called them outside: the wind was mild and abiding off the coast, the clouds holding the rain at bay, and though there was no sun, the fall rarely offered a escape so inviting.
“I don’t have school today, Daddy,” Mia grinned.
“I know, that must be nice, I have to work.” Gabe forced a small frown.
“I’m going out with Ginny, we’re going to the movies!” Mia twirled about in the soft grass, spinning pirouettes, her skirt swirling out in a parachute of soft fabric.
“That’ll be fun,” Gabe agreed, glancing at Jenna with questioning eyes, silently questioning why. “You feeling okay, babe?” he asked innocently, folding his newspaper and setting it aside.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just a bunch of things to do, Mia would be bored to tears.” Jenna brushed off his concern, not bothering to turn around, pretending to be bewitched by the sight of the ships going out to sea.
“Want company?” Gabe pressed, Jenna winced. She didn’t want to dive into this conversation in front of Mia.
“You’ll be thinking about work all day if you’re here, so you might as well just be there,” Jenna laughed, knowing that the truth in that rang true.
“Probably right,” Gabe sighed deeply in defeat. “Speaking of, I should be heading out,” Gabe groaned as he hefted himself from the seat.
“Bye Daddy, have a fun day!” Mia jovially waved, sprinting across the short distance to his side, latching her arms around his thigh.
“Bye Mia baby, have a fun day, too.” Gabe lifted Mia up, smothering her cheeks with kisses until she caved with fits of squirmy, joyful laughter.
Jenna turned, pacing across the lawn to the little klatch of love. She wrapped her arms around Gabe from behind, feeling the way his muscles ebbed and flowed under the thick, dowdy fabric of his coat. She pressed her face between his shoulder blades, breathing in deeply, committing his scent, something earthy and spicy, to memory.
“All right, all right, I’ve gotta go.” Gabe finally gave up, placing Mia on the ground gently.
“I love you Gabe.” Jenna released him as her turned to face her.
“I’ll stay,” Gabe answered, meaning it. He’d stay with her, run all the errands and ignore all the distractions.
“No, you go. Make beautiful houses,” Jenna teased lightly, wrapping her arms around him again, stepping up on her toes to kiss his lips, tasting his coffee.
“You sure?” He pulled back, a pensive look causing his eyes to squint in speculation.
He was getting old, Jenna realized. The thin of hint of wrinkle pinched around his eyes, his temples pierced with silver.
“Scout’s honor.” Jenna held up her hand in innocence, lying to him. She hated it, wishing she could cross her fingers to absolve her guilt, but it was childish and she’d own her deception.
In another life, with another set of circumstances, she’d have begged him to stay. She would have devoured a day of nothingness with him alone. But that luxury would require time, a clock less measure, something she didn’t have, something she hadn’t had in a long while.
“Okay,” he drawled, stretching out the word to let his hesitance to seep through.
“Bye, I love you,” Jenna murmured, kissing his cheek again, giving him a playful shove back towards the house.
“Bye.” He grabbed her again, pulling her in close, kissing her again.
She loved him. The feeling of that was a high tide, swallowing everything else. Nothing was untouched by how she felt.
Ginny’s truck rumbled up the long drive, dividing the silence with its forceful protest.
“Ginny!” Mia screamed with delight, breaking into a barefooted run towards the house.
Gabe plowed after her, and Jenna stood still, rooted in place, watching the people she loved moving away from her. Silence was left in their wake, a soft breeze whipped at her sweater coat, and she pulled it closer around her, holding herself together. She started after them, still watching the place where they disappeared, into the deep recesses of their home. It was longing she felt now, for all of them. She knew then, that she’d always want the most what she could never have. She wanted to keep pace with them, stay with them forever, latch herself to their sides.
Inside, Ginny was already busying herself, putting away sacks of fresh vegetables and fruit, Tupperware filled with sauces and casseroles and soups. Tarts and muffins rested on thin paper plates spread across the butcher block island.
“Momma! Look at what Ginny brought! Isn’t it so pretty!” Mia held up an ornately carved box, “She said it’s my hope chest!” Mia ran her chubby fingers over the beautiful detailed carvings.
“That’s lovely. Did you thank Ginny?” Jenna rested her hands on her hips, leaning over Mia to study the box.
It was crafted from thick, dark wood, with Native American detailing, tribal fish swam across the raw wood panels. A bronze latch secured the top, and inside smelt of pine and wood oil.
“Of course, not saying thank you is rude!” Mia replied, still enthralled. “But she said I can’t have it yet, that I have to give it to you first, ‘cause that’s how a hope chest works. That Momma’s fill up the hope chest for daughters. She said that’s it’s still mine, but not until I’m older.” Mia held up the box, offering it to Jenna.
Jenna looked at Ginny, who was busying herself, placing the packaged items in the fridge.
“Ginny?” Jenna asked curi
ously.
“Just a place for you to keep things for Mia, for when she’s older.” the implication dripped from her cryptic message. A house for the tapes, a place for her hopes.
“Thank you, it’s perfect.” Jenna wandered over, wrapping Ginny up in a big hug, kissing her on the cheek. Ginny was a blessing of the best sort.
Ginny waved her away. “It’s nothing. Just came across it up at the Neah Bay reservation, and thought you’d get some use out of it.”
“It was very thoughtful of you, and you know I will.” she pulled Ginny in again, and this time Ginny hugged her back.
“Ginny?” Mia interrupted.
“Yes, baby girl?” Ginny asked over Jenna’s shoulder.
“What time does the movie start?” Mia asked, still stroking the wooden box, running a curious finger over the swimming fish.
“The theater doesn’t open till ‘round three, honey. But, if you’re up for it, I’ve got some apple trees in my yard gettin’ ready to drop fruit. We could go pick some and make a pie?” Ginny winked at Jenna, knowing the promise would enchant Mia.
“Really?” Mia asked. “Can I eat the whole thing by myself?”
Ginny’s laughter filled the vast kitchen, bouncing off the walls. “Think you can?”
“Yes, ma’am!” Mia flashed a toothy grin, running to gather her shoes and coat by the front door.
“Ginny, please don’t let her eat the whole thing,” Jenna pleaded, imagining the tummy ache that accompanied the gluttony.
“Jenna, really, that girl couldn’t eat the whole pie no matter what I said,” Ginny laughed, and patted Jenna’s shoulder lightly as she passed by.
“Oh, wait!” Jenna called after them, an afterthought. She hurried to the entryway, unsnapping her wallet, pulling out a handful of bills. “This should cover everything.” She smiled, handing the money to Ginny.
“Thanks,” Ginny replied, slipping the bills into her coat pocket.
“Bye, Mia, love you!” Jenna called from the open door, balancing against the frame as Mia sprinted towards the passenger side of Ginny’s truck.
“Love you more, Momma!” Mia called back, throwing her a quick kiss before climbing into the cab. Ginny waved and slipped into the truck, off to start their adventure.
Jenna watched as the truck rumbled out of the driveway, waving until they were long gone from sight. Turning away, she quietly closed the door, locking it behind herself.
There was no more putting off the inevitable. No lingering false hope. No reason to not start now, aside from the fact that she didn’t want to. But that small fact wasn’t enough to stop her; its feeble threads didn’t convince her to wait a moment longer.
Jenna gathered the box Ginny had brought in her arms, turning off the lights in the kitchen as she made her way down the hall to her office. She thought of Mia’s wonder over the box, the excitement of knowing that it was a mother’s, her own mother’s, responsibility to fill that chest with her hopes for her child, her baby, her Mia. Jenna lingered on her greatest hope of all, that when the time came for the box to find its way back to Mia, her wonder would hold.
Jenna snapped the blinds closed. The room darkened and depressed, a small Tiffany lamp glowed from the corner of her desk, a beacon. It reminded Jenna of her first three years here, in this home, in Port Angeles. She remembered sitting here, the small sliver of light casting a glow over her workspace, a baby monitor resting beside it. She would write, create perfect worlds, knowing the whole while that her life was better than any book she’d ever written. She remembered the way she would press the monitor to her ear, listening to Mia’s hushed, dreamy breath on the other end and the way that inspired her to work harder, secure her future.
She pulled the slim tape recorder from the desk drawer. The man at the office supply store had promised this was the latest and greatest model. She popped the deck over and slipped the little cassette inside.
Jenna willed her fingers with much determination to press the record button. She couldn’t allow herself to think about how silly she felt speaking these paramount words to only herself and a small tape recorder in the dark of her office, years and years before they’d even harbor an inkling of truth. Or how heartbreaking it felt to know that eventually she would be finished recording and the silence left behind would speak volumes itself.
She had no notes, no frame of reference really, and no way of knowing exactly what her daughter would need to hear when she finally, in time, came about pressing play. All she had was a list, a list of milestones and a corresponding blank tape for each.
The fear and utter sadness of that enveloped her like a inferno, burning her, buckling her heart and breaking her in a million ways that would remain unseen as so many of her other breaks did. She would never really know if she got it right, of course. She’d never know. And, if she were being honest now, hadn’t that realization been the driving force behind the recordings to begin with?
Hadn’t that knowledge pinged her so many months ago, while the quiet of the morning and darkness of her home gave the illusion of peace and rightness and did nothing more than make her think? Hadn’t that understanding set in motion the pit stop?
But even more than that, wasn’t the unknown what she’d been fighting all along? Trying to somehow rally against what the doctors told her was inevitable, trying to be the exception and not the rule? Jenna knew that she did fight hard, every moment with umpteen doctors, every drug, every needle or pill or hope. The fighting had never been the problem, it was simply what she was fighting against, that thing, so bound and determined to win, so ugly, growing over her heart.
She was left with the unknown. All the things that couldn’t possibly be known. It was no longer a question of science, medicine and time; now it was a matter of fate, faith and the natural unfolding of things. Jenna had resolved that, although everything now about life after would be unknown, she would plan and prepare and hedge her bets like a mother would. She would bet on her daughter, and leave behind her voice.
She knew her little girl now. She knew the determined expression that would cross her face when they worked together side by side rolling out dough in the expansive kitchen she had designed for family time and togetherness. She knew the jubilant smile that would never fail Mia’s face when she huddled over her English homework, letting her unique brand of creativity roll off her in waves, limited only by what she could spell at seven years old. She knew the telltale face of a fib or half-truth, Mia’s mouth dropping open just enough as she tried not to smile and tried harder to convey honesty. She knew the way Mia’s lips would tremble as she departed the bus when the kids had been less than kind, running for the security of home and the comfort of her Mom, running to the place that would nurture and welcome her budding individualism rather than shy away from it.
Jenna knew Mia better than herself in every single way possible; she was her mother. From the very beginning, her baby girl had been the epitome of a miracle in Jenna’s eyes and remained steadfast in that role forever after. Mia was Jenna’s sole reason for the death match that spanned out behind them, defining holidays and birthdays, along every other ordinary day. Mia was reason and logic, hope and heartbreak, she was her dream personified. The prose of that would have made Jenna laugh, had the thoughts and feeling ambushed her in a normal life. But in her life, their life as a family with their singular child, the emotional wrought was highlighted, it hung from their only child. Jenna knew she could never, even if words flooded her, speak enough of her baby.
But who would Mia be when these tapes became relevant?
Suddenly the unknown crept in again, playing around, twisting two, five or a million different landscapes. Landscapes Jenna, physically, would be absent for. Would Mia be analytical and thoughtful, living a life of logic and reason, a breathing echo of her father? Would her love of words bloom into a love of numbers? Or would she hold fast, stay to true to her dreamy and creative nature, more like Jenna?
Would some of these tapes be
left unheard in their little plastic casings because they didn’t pertain to Mia? And if they didn’t pertain, why not? But, if they did and Jenna failed to push the worry and what if aside, then what? What if Mia carried the responsibility, all the joys and all the burdens of life alone? The stark thought of that was enough to cripple Jenna.
And it was then, with the scenes of cobbler dough atop flour-covered counters, piles of homework, tears and laughter spinning webs in her head, she pushed her finger down on the record button and began ...
“Mia … I love you.”
~ * * * ~
Placing the final tape in the hope chest, Jenna turned off the lamp, allowing her head to loll back. She was emotionally exhausted. She had climbed all the landmarks of motherhood in the short expanse of one afternoon. She wiped the tears that slipped onto her cheeks away with the back of her hand; she had tried to hard not to cry when she was recording and, at times, failed miserably.
The clock on the wall let her know that Mia would be home soon, the day had slipped into evening. She should go make dinner, she should go turn on the lights, she should do a lot of things, but her body refused to move. She wanted to rest for a while longer. It was a surreal thing, to travel to the future, to a different time where different things were important, to have conversations with her child about parenting, love, sex, marriage, heartbreak, college and then watch that same child come bouncing through the door, a tiny seven year old with slick, buttery fingers and sugar coursing through her veins. She wasn’t sure how to reconcile the two realities into the run of only a few hours.
Headlights cut across the slats of the plantation blinds. Jenna logically willed herself to move, but still she couldn’t. She closed her eyes, willing away any interruption; she wanted to just be for awhile longer.
The Milestone Tapes Page 16