Baggage Check

by M. J. Pullen

  “That’s terrible,” Rebecca said. “I wish I could help.”

  “Eh, that’s all right. It’s good to talk to you. How are things in East Bumble?”

  “Getting better, I think. I was thinking about coming home soon.”

  “That’s great, hon.”

  Valerie was beginning to sound distracted and Rebecca worried she might be feeling ill again. “Well, I’ll let you rest,” she said.

  “You were just calling to say hi?”

  “Yeah. Well, I wanted to ask you about something, but it can wait until you’re feeling better.”

  “I’d argue with you, but I feel the demons moving around again, so I’d better hang up.”

  * * *

  Her father came around one thirty. Rebecca found it funny that he knocked on the door of his own house when he arrived. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said. Of course she hadn’t done anything, but she accepted his attempt at humor with a smile anyway.

  “I guess you’ll be letting this place go soon, too,” she said. “When is your lease up?”

  He laughed. “I haven’t had a formal lease in a couple of years,” he said. “I guess technically it’s month to month, but the lady who owns it is real nice, so I’ll give her a few weeks’ notice at least.”

  Richard held the car door for her, just like Alex always did, and they drove in silence to Mountainside. The nurse on duty was a quiet redhead Rebecca had seen once or twice, and she gave them a tight smile as she led them to the art studio, where Lorena was sitting in the corner by the window, holding a paintbrush. Rebecca went to her first, while Richard hovered in the doorway.

  Her mother did not seem to hear her approach. She was staring out the window at the valley below, or maybe somewhere else beyond sight.

  “Hey, Mama,” Rebecca said gently, not wanting to startle her.

  “Becky,” Lorena said softly. “Rebecca. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. Isn’t the landscape here beautiful? I’ve lived here more than half my life, but I feel like I’m seeing it for the first time.”

  “I know what you mean,” Rebecca said.

  Lorena looked up at her, and then focused her attention over Rebecca’s right shoulder.

  “Richard?”

  For a moment, Rebecca thought her mother had become confused again; then she heard her father’s voice behind her. “Hi, Lorie.”

  Lorena’s bottom lip trembled almost imperceptibly, and Rebecca saw her grip tighten on the paintbrush. “Richard. You came to see me.”

  “Yes, honey. I did. Let’s go sit outside. It’s a nice day.” He held out his arm to her, and Lorena took it gingerly. Rebecca had a sudden memory of a Christmas morning long ago, when she was eleven or twelve years old. Her father had bought her mother a new food processor as a surprise, something she had wanted for years. He made her close her eyes and led her into the kitchen so he could see the surprise on her face.

  As they passed her on their way to the double doors going out to the patio, Richard said, “Rebecca, honey, go get us some coffee, would you?” In other words, get lost.

  Rebecca went to the coffee area and took the time to brew a fresh pot. While she waited for it, she refilled the sugar and sweetener packets and the cup full of stirrers, and then wiped down the counter with a paper towel she wet in the ladies’ room. I really do need to get back to work, she thought.

  Even with all her stalling, by the time she reached the patio with three coffees in hand, she still could not bring herself to interrupt. She stopped at the door and watched her parents, the first time she had seen them together in years. They sat in metal patio chairs facing one another, hands clasped tightly together. Her father was leaning down with his forehead pressed against hers, talking softly. She could see tears on her mother’s cheeks, but could not make out what was being said.

  As she watched, Richard put his hand beneath Lorena’s chin and lifted her face to his. He kissed her gently on the lips, and then leaned closer and whispered in her ear.

  Watching this tenderness between them, a hope welled in Rebecca’s chest. She knew it was a child’s hope, but she allowed it to fill her nonetheless. Maybe, maybe … How could two people who shared such intimacy ever really part? How could her father give up this kind of love for a silly little thing like Sonia? As if proving her point, he sank slowly to his knees in front of his wife, and Rebecca saw the flash of a sheepish grin before he placed his head on her lap. Lorena held his head in her hands, comforting him.

  After a few moments, Rebecca could not stand there with the hot coffee any longer, so she went out the open door and walked softly toward her parents. “Hey, guys,” she said awkwardly.

  Richard stood and walked to the edge of the patio, away from Rebecca, and leaned on the railing to look over the countryside. She knew he did not want her to see the emotion on his face, so she turned to her mother. “Sit down, baby,” Lorena said, patting the chair next to her. It was the most motherly she had sounded in years. “Your dad and I talked. I’ve … we’ve decided that I am going to live with Aunt Jo and Uncle Larry in Mobile. They have an apartment over their garage. It’s real nice. And your father and I are getting a divorce.”

  32

  Over the next few weeks, Lorena’s recovery seemed to gain traction. Rebecca visited her daily and was able to observe the change herself, as well as hear about it from the Mountainside staff. It was as though Richard’s visit had sped her return to reality—too late to save her marriage, but perhaps not too late for whatever else might come. She no longer had periods of total disconnect from reality, and each day she seemed stronger and happier. She, Rebecca, and Richard had all been in touch with Lorena’s sister Jo, who had cleaned out the small apartment over her garage in Mobile and was readying it for her sister’s arrival. One of the therapists at Mountainside connected Lorena with an art therapist in Mobile, and she had already registered for a painting class that started in October.

  By early September, she was deemed ready to take a short leave from Mountainside to go to her house. She could not stay there; everyone involved agreed this was not a good idea. But she would be allowed to go through her remaining things with Rebecca and choose a few items to take with her to Mobile. She would be meeting Rebecca at the house on a Friday afternoon after therapy, accompanied by Dawn, in case there were any emotional setbacks or problems.

  Rebecca fretted about the visit all morning. She drove to her mother’s house early to rearrange boxes for the thirtieth time, trying to emphasize what she had saved rather than what she had purged. After that, she paced uselessly around the house, cataloging in her mind everything she had been unsure about throwing or giving away, trying to remember her reasoning for each item so she could defend her choices if her mother was angry. She even picked up the phone to call Alex, still her only friend in Alabama even though he was no longer speaking to her, but she hung up after one ring. She could only see the hurt look on his face by the riverbank.

  When Dawn and Lorena pulled into the driveway in a small maroon coupe, Rebecca stepped out of the house to greet them, wiping her dusty hands on her jeans. Her mother looked pale as the social worker helped her out of the passenger’s seat. She took a tentative step toward the house as though she were walking on the moon, rather than the gravel driveway that had been hers for decades. She stopped before reaching the porch.

  “Mama?” Rebecca asked.

  “I can’t,” Lorena said.

  The kind social worker put a hand on Lorena’s back. “You don’t have to, Lorena. Remember, we talked about it? It’s going to be very different, and if you don’t feel ready to face it, there’s no shame in that.”

  “No shame,” Lorena echoed. Then, to Rebecca, “You cleaned it all up?”

  “Yes, Mama. I’m sorry. They were going to condemn the house, the health department, and you weren’t able to help.”

  “Was it hard to do? Was it hard on you?”

&nbs
p; Rebecca did not know how to answer. She glanced at Dawn for help.

  “Your daughter loves you, Lorena. She did what needed to be done. Families help each other.”

  “I don’t think I can go in,” her mother said. “Becky, don’t be mad. I just can’t.”

  “I’m not mad, Mama,” Rebecca said reflexively.

  Dawn’s voice was comforting. “It’s okay, Lorena. Understandable. The house is probably very different than what you remember, and it’s okay if you don’t want to see it this way. Maybe you can tell Rebecca what items you would like to take with you to your sister’s house?”

  Lorena began right away. She had been thinking about this, preparing, Rebecca supposed, for the possibility she would not be able to go into the house. “The pictures, the family albums, I need those. And my clothes, you can choose the ones that are best.” To Dawn, she said, “Rebecca has a wonderful sense of style.

  “That writing desk in the living room—it was my grandmother’s. When I’m gone, that will be yours, Becky. Don’t forget. And one box of Christmas ornaments. I’ll want my own little tree at Larry and Jo’s, I think.”

  Rebecca was dumbstruck, but Dawn had produced a pad of paper from somewhere and was taking notes. Apparently everyone but Rebecca was prepared for this contingency.

  “My iron skillet and the record albums. All the pictures. Did I say that already? It’s a small apartment, but I think I can use the small table in the kitchen and a few of those chairs.” Rebecca noticed her mother’s voice was becoming thick, and a tear ran down one cheek. “Becky, just use your judgment on the rest of the stuff. I trust you.”

  She turned back toward the car. Rebecca could still hardly believe she’d prepared for this all morning, all summer, and her mother was not even going to set foot in the house before saying goodbye.

  “Mama. What about Cory’s room?” she asked as gently as she could.

  Dawn put a hand on Lorena’s arm. “Would you like something to take with you? From his room?”

  Lorena seemed frozen. She shook her head mildly. “I can’t go in there.”

  “I saved some of Cory’s gloves and footballs and trophies, and the uniforms—Daddy thought the school might like some of them, but you could take a jersey with you. There are his books and—”

  “I’ll take that,” Lorena said, pointing. Just inside the open front door, the Yoda action figure lay discarded on a stack of boxes, where Rebecca had left it the day of her temper tantrum. She had intended to throw it away but kept forgetting.

  “Mama, that’s just an old Star Wars toy.”

  “Yes.”

  “But it’s broken.”

  “I am broken, too,” said Lorena. “So we’ll be good company.”

  She turned again and opened the car door herself. “I’m ready to go, Dawn,” she said to the social worker.

  “That’s it? That’s all you want to take with you?” Rebecca was incredulous.

  “Here’s the list,” Dawn said. “You might want to wait a day before you do anything. It’s possible she could change her mind.”

  “I won’t change my mind,” Lorena said. “I’ve held on to too much for too long. It’s time to go. Becky, you can keep anything you want. Dawn, could we stop by Walmart on the way back? I want to pick up some painting supplies and toiletries for the trip to Mobile next week.”

  Rebecca felt strangely panicked that her mother was leaving so soon. “I’ll take you. Can I take her?”

  “Sure,” Dawn said. “Just check in at the nurse’s desk when you are back.”

  * * *

  Rebecca had become very familiar with the Gadsden Walmart in the past three months. She did not wipe down the cart with sanitizer anymore, and even Lorena was impressed that Rebecca knew where to find the shampoo and deodorant her mother liked. They filled the cart with toiletries, acrylic paints, paintbrushes, and a couple of inexpensive canvases. “These will do until I can get to a real art store in Mobile,” Lorena said.

  “I didn’t know you’d become such a connoisseur of canvas,” Rebecca teased her.

  “You’re not the only one in this family who can be a snob,” Lorena said. “I mean, where do you think you got it from, girl?” She playfully flipped her long gray hair back in a motion of exaggerated self-importance.

  Rebecca couldn’t remember the last time she and her mother had laughed together, much less been shopping or even to the grocery store. Who is this woman and where has she been? She found herself thinking of things she suddenly needed, wanting to stretch their time together a little longer. She had the vague sense that this would be it for a while.

  They were on the music aisle, where Rebecca was showing her mother one of Dylan’s CDs and telling her all about the beach wedding, when her keys slipped from her hand and clattered to the linoleum floor. As she bent over to retrieve them, a familiar pair of boots came into view behind her. Accompanied by a pair of very tan feet in sparkling pink flip-flops.

  Rebecca stood up so fast she gave herself a head rush and had to steady herself on the CD shelves.

  “Alex,” she said, stunned. Next to him was a dark-eyed, dark-skinned beauty in frayed jeans and a pink T-shirt, who could only be one person. “And you must be Honey.”

  “Hi,” Honey said. “Do you work with my dad?”

  “No, I’m—”

  “An old friend,” Alex finished for her. He wore a smirk that seemed something between bemused and annoyed. “Honey, this is Rebecca; Rebecca, my daughter. Hello, Mrs. Williamson. How are you feeling?”

  “Hello, dear,” Lorena said. If she remembered that Alex had been instrumental in having her taken from her home and put in the hospital, she didn’t show it. “I’m much better. How’s your family?”

  “They are all fine, thank you.”

  “David’s still in New York? He’s eating?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s doing fine, thank you.”

  “And your dad? No more trouble with his heart?”

  “No, ma’am. Dad’s great, cranky as ever. He’s driving Mom crazy, of course.”

  “Good.” She turned to Honey. “Are you ready for school to start back?”

  “No, ma’am,” Honey said. “But I guess when it does, I’ll survive. I’ve heard freshman year can be really hard.”

  “Sure, it can. But you’ll be fine—sweet, smart girl like you. Playing volleyball again this year?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good girl,” Lorena said. “I saw the story on you girls in the paper last year—making it to the state finals is a big deal.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Rebecca was floored that her mother knew all this. She supposed that even confined to the house, Lorena had kept up with the local news. So even her mother knew more about Alex and his family than she did.

  Honey was very polite and exceptionally pretty, Rebecca noticed. She had smooth, dark skin and almond eyes that were unquestionably Alex’s. Rebecca did not know why she should be surprised that Honey’s mother was black, though Alex had not mentioned it. She spent a moment adjusting her mental images of Shondra and her parents, and of the romance she had imagined between Shondra and Alex.

  The four of them stood for a minute in silence. Honey shuffled her feet the way teenagers do when confronted with dull adult interactions, and cast a longing glance at an endcap display of brightly colored cell phone accessories.

  Lorena said, “Well, nice to see you both. I need to go find something.” She turned abruptly, and took the cart in the general direction of sporting goods, where everyone knew damn well she didn’t need anything.

  “Mom’s just on a break from Mountainside for a few hours,” Rebecca explained. “We’re heading back there shortly. She’ll be moving in with her sister in Mobile in a few days.”

  “That’s great,” said Alex. “I mean, it’s sad that she has to leave town, but maybe it’s for the best.”

  “I guess I should catch up to her,” she said. “Before she wanders away.”
/>   “Of course.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Honey. Your dad is really proud of you. He talks about you all the time.”

  “You, too, Rebecca. He talks about you a lot. I mean, a lot.” Honey was grinning.

  “All right, that’s enough,” Alex said. He steered Honey away. “Let’s go buy you a new phone so you can talk to your friends instead of mine.”

  He threw an embarrassed glance over his shoulder as they walked away.

  * * *

  It was nearly a week later that Lorena was discharged from the hospital, on a Thursday afternoon. Rebecca picked her up, waiting in the main common area for almost an hour while the attending physician got around to signing all her release forms. Dawn hugged them both and wished Lorena luck at the door. Rebecca carried a small suitcase with her mother’s things and a blue folder with all the discharge information, including an appointment card for Lorena’s new therapist in Mobile.

  Uncle Larry waited at the house with a small U-Haul, on which he and Rebecca had already loaded the few things Lorena had chosen to take with her to Mobile. On top of what Lorena had requested, Rebecca had gone through the various remaining bins and boxes to locate all the arts and craft supplies and added those to her mother’s piles. Richard and Sonia had come by to collect a few more of his things, and everything else had been sold on eBay or picked up by Goodwill. Rebecca had taken Cory’s teddy bear, the elephant lamp, and a single bin of her yearbooks and other souvenirs from high school. The house was now empty, clean, and on the market.

  When Rebecca pulled into the driveway for the last time, Lorena took a deep breath but made no move to remove her seat belt. “Ready, Mama?” Rebecca asked.

  For a minute, she worried that her mother had gone back into a catatonic state. “Mama?”

  “I’m ready,” Lorena said, her voice froggy. She took her time unbuckling and getting slowly out of Rebecca’s car.