I’m crying again and babbling an avalanche of words that tumble and crash around one another.
“Maybe it was what happened between my mom and me, but . . . I started to get it, to really understand what it means. This love thing. I mean, I’m scared, like I don’t want to get too excited about this change with her. I guess time will tell. But it felt so good to have that kind of love. And it reinforced for me how much I love you and how much I need you in my life. And I don’t get to make decisions for you. Who am I to do that? You have to decide. Just you. Be what you want. The best damn supersalesman Mountain and Stream ever had or a plumber or research scientist or a logger or a monkey house cleaner. I mean, who am I to judge? I’m pretending to be a psychic because I couldn’t get any other job and then was just too lazy to do anything else. Cal, be anything you want, but stay with me. Just stay with me.”
“It’s okay, Claire,” he says, patting my back gently.
“No, it’s not. I mean, what if it’s the end of the world, and you’re not with me? I want you with me. Who else would put up with me? I’m difficult, I know. And tough—I can be so tough. I’m sorry about that, I am, because you’re not. You are the least tough person I know. Your heart is open and sweet, and all I’ve done is stomp all over it. I’m sorry. I really am. You’re my friend, my best friend, and I don’t want to be without you today or tomorrow or when the world ends. I can be better, I promise, I can try . . .”
Bundling me against him, he says, “Claire, you have to know by now . . . you couldn’t keep me from loving you, no matter what you do or don’t do.”
I felt it then. Love. More than a little frightening, but so worth it.
22
Rena
STEPHANIE’S BATTLE BLOG
Posted on August 25 by Stephanie’s Mommy
I know it’s been a really long time since I posted.
You can tell by the pictures, me and Steph’s place is definitely not the Taj Mahale. But its furnished. And it’s near the doctor so that’s all good.
Steph’s stomach has been just Terrible. Last night she was in such huge pain so me and Steph spent alot of time on the brfloor. (see pic) It’s really hard to watch your child in that much agony. All I could do was sit next to her and cry and cry. Our appointment is on Friday. Pls PRAY this doctor will know what to do and can help her feel better FAST.
But there maybe is some possible good news. My ex always had horrible stomach problems. I nagged and nagged at him and he finally went to a doctor. He said this doc tested him for something called fabric disease. I asked was this an allergy, like to wool or something? The doctor said it was GENETIC. Anybody know something about this? I want to make sure to tell Steph’s dr at her appointment.
No good health food stores here. I did find a Momma Loves Baby class around the corner. Will check it out tomorrow. if she feels better. right now, she’s as white as a ghost and can’t keep nothing down.
Rena’s Way to Well: Feed Your Kid Right
Don’t believe everything the doctors tell you about your kid’s diet. You are the MOMMY. You know best. They tell you organic doesn’t matter. IT DOES!!! Don’t put anything in your child that isn’t clean and natral.
Yolandathegreat: I’ve been so worried about you since we didn’t hear anything for a long time. How was the trip?
MartinaQ: Hey, glad you got there. When you get a chance, can you please send me that recipe for the quinoa pancakes?!
Kittieseverywhere: What doctor are you going to see? And where? Our son has terrible stomachaches since he was born and nothing anyone does seems to help. Would be so grateful if you could tell me who you be seeing. We will go anywhere to get Nathan help. Anywhere!!!
XY42: I work at a genetic clinic in CA and I think what you’re talking about is Fabry Disease. It’s an inherited disorder and pretty rare. Much more common in men than women. The body can’t make an enzyme called alpha-galactosidase, which you need to break down fatty substances like oil and fatty acids. There are many symptoms, including pain and burning in hands and feet, small, dark red spots between the belly button and knees, cloudy vision and stomach pain. It’s often misdiagnosed because the symptoms are pretty common and affect many parts of the body. The genetic defect for Fabry disease is located on the X chromosome. If the dad has the disease, there is a zero percent chance he’ll pass it on to a son and a 100% chance he’ll pass this altered gene to his daughter. Hope this helps and that your little girl feels better real soon.
KnitWit1: Rena, please call me. Where are you and what’s with your phone? I haven’t been able to reach you. You need to call me immediately. Love, Janet
Me and Steph were walking around the neighborhood one afternoon looking for the Laundromat and saw a sign in the window of a kids’ consignment clothing shop: MOMMY LOVES BABY: MUSIC, STORIES & FUN! WEDNESDAYS, 10–11, ALL WELCOME!
There are only three other moms and their kids sitting in a circle on a nasty-looking rug in the back room of the consignment shop. The whole place smells musty and kind of like BO. I’m guessing that’s because of all the donated clothes and crap. Lots of old toys and kitchen stuff and coats (when the hell do they ever wear those out here?) are piled up on open metal shelves. Stephanie’s being kind of shy, so I have to give her a small push to get her through the doorway. Then she hides behind my leg.
“Hi, everyone,” I say. “I’m Rena, and this little person attached to my hip is Stephanie. She’s four. Say hello, Steph.” The women giggle, and Steph looks around me.
“Aw, she’s so cute. Come on, sweetie, sit here next to me and Rex,” says a fat woman with a fat kid. He looks about five, but it’s hard to tell because he’s so huge. The woman says her name is Connie.
I sit down next to Connie and Rex, and Stephanie sits beside me. The other two women tell me their names and their kids’ names. I help Steph take off her sweatshirt.
“Too hot for this, right, sweetie?” I ask, folding and putting it on the floor next to us.
One of the women, Susan, says her daughter, Felicia, is three and a half. The kid looks a whole lot like one of those Pekingese dogs, with her pushed-in nose and all of her hair poking straight up.
“Is this your first time at Mommy Loves Baby?” Susan asks.
“We used to belong to a group back home. Me and Stephanie just got into town. We came to Arizona to see a special doctor here. She’s a very sick little girl.” I lick my palm and wipe at a smudge on Steph’s forehead.
I see them all look at each other, so I say real quick, “It’s not catchable. Stomach problems. She has a horrible time keeping food down. We’ve been in and out of so many hospitals.”
Everyone seems relieved.
“So sorry to hear that. Where did you move here from?” asks Margaret, a Mexican-looking woman with a kid who could be about Stephanie’s age. Margaret’s daughter, Valerie, has big dark eyes and has been staring at Stephanie ever since we came in. I take off the rubber band from Stephanie’s braid, finger-comb her hair, and rebraid it.
“Back east. We saw a ton of doctors there, but they couldn’t do shit. She just kept getting sicker and sicker. I did research and found the best doctor in the country for kids’ tummy problems, and she’s here in Phoenix.”
“Well, welcome,” says Connie. “I’m the coordinator for this group, but actually, we all take turns leading activities. Sometimes we have a lot of moms and kids, and sometimes it’s a small group like today. Many people left the valley this week because it’s been so dang hot. So, Rena, if there’s anything you think our moms and kids might enjoy doing, please just let us know.”
I nod and give Stephanie a hug.
“All right, then, everyone up,” shouts Connie, her double chins jiggling. “Let’s do a little exercise before we start on our musical instruments.”
We stretch through a few yoga-type moves and do some jumping jacks. The dishes on the shelves bang against each other, especially because fatties Connie and Rex are really into the jumping.
The rest of the time we play recorders, beat on drums, and wave tambourines in the air to a CD of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and the alphabet song. For the first time in my life, I realize these songs have the exact same tune. So fucking weird.
When the hour’s up, Connie asks, “Who brought treats this week?”
From a huge tote bag, Margaret pulls out a plastic container. She takes off the lid and everyone oohs and aahs over the cookies. They look like oatmeal raisin. She passes them to Connie.
“Are there nuts in those?” I ask.
“Of course not,” says Margaret. “We’re very careful about allergies here.”
“That’s good,” I say. “How about white flour? Did you use white flour?”
Connie has three cookies in her hand. She’s reaching in to get more, but then she stops to hear Margaret’s answer.
“Yes, I used white flour. But I think it was unbleached,” Margaret says.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “Besides the gluten, all flour also contains pesticides. The USDA found like sixteen different kinds of pesticide residue in white flour.”
Connie passes the cookie container to Susan, but Susan doesn’t take any for herself or Felicia.
When the cookies get to me, Stephanie reaches in to take one, and I give her hand a little slap. I shake my head and pass the container back to Margaret.
“No, honey,” I tell Steph. “We’ll have our snacks when we get home.”
“Sounds like you eat healthy,” says Margaret. I know she really, really wants a cookie. She gives this big sigh, puts the lid back on, and shoves the container back into her bag.
“We try. It’s not easy, though,” I say. “I had to do a lot of research to find foods Stephanie can digest that are also super good for her. Like, for lunch, we’re going to have gluten-free mac and cheese. Make sure you get the organic cheese. The other stuff is just pure crap.”
“I wish I could cook healthier meals,” says Connie, wrapping her cookies into a tissue. “But everyone at my house, including me, only loves all the bad stuff.” She giggles.
“I know it’s hard. I had to do it to save my daughter’s life, but after reading a bunch, I know the way most people eat is killing them.” I run my hands up and down Stephanie’s back. “But sometimes, no matter what I make for Stephanie, it doesn’t work, and then we have to hook up the feeding tube. Right, honey?”
“That’s terrible,” says Susan. She reaches over to touch Stephanie’s knee. “Must be very hard for you, pumpkin.” Stephanie looks at her and sticks her pinkie into her mouth. I pull it out and put it back in her lap.
“It’s super hard on both of us, but she has to get her nutrition in some way, you know?”
Connie says, “I really admire what you’re doing.”
“Hey, I have an idea,” I say. “Maybe at the next meeting, what if I bring a snack that’s actually good for kids? I’ll even share the recipe too.”
Susan claps her hands, and Connie shouts, “Great.”
Margaret still looks upset but says, “Sure.”
When we get home from the class, I feed Stephanie lunch and tell her to go to her room and nap.
I call Janet, and she practically screams into the phone, “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for two weeks. I called Gary—who also, by the way, is pretty frantic—to see if he had heard from you. He hadn’t, so I finally decided to go on your blog to reach you. What the heck, Rena? Why didn’t you return any of my calls?”
“Wow, Janet, calm the hell down, will you? I’m sorry but I’ve been kind of busy here, in case you didn’t know. Settling into a new place with a really sick kid? Also, I did talk to Gary.”
“Apparently not in the last two weeks. He said he keeps calling. What’s with your cell phone? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“Pretty simple. I don’t have that phone anymore. It was an old model, so I got a new one with a new number.”
“And you didn’t think to call me and let me know? We’ve been crazy here, worrying about you guys. Gary, he’s spitting bullets, he’s so furious. He keeps saying you may as well have kidnapped Stephanie since he has no idea where the two of you are. Plus, something about a doctor’s appointment he had?”
“Like I said, I’m sorry, okay? This place was pretty disgusting and filthy, so that took a while. And, to be real honest, you and Gary are not first on my list. Steph’s real bad, Janet. She couldn’t even get out of bed today. I’m going to have to hook her up to the feeding tube tonight if she still can’t keep anything down. I tried broth and applesauce, but nothing works.” I start to cry.
Janet sighs and says, “You poor thing. I do know how hard it is for you and Steph. It’s just that we’re all worried and when we didn’t hear from you . . .”
“I’m sorry. I really am. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind,” I sob and blow my nose on a paper towel.
“I know, I know, and I think you’re doing a fantastic job. You’re a great mommy, and it’s horrible to go through this with your child. I’m just glad I finally get to talk to you, and now I have your new number, so we can at least keep in touch.”
“Yeah,” I say, sniffing. “That’ll be good.”
“Hang in there. I’m sure this new doctor will know what to do.”
“I really hope so.” I check my watch. There’s a show I want to see. I’ll only miss ten minutes of it if I can get Janet off the phone now. “Well, I got to—”
“Sure, but one more thing,” says my sister. “I don’t mean to add to your stress, but some guy from the hospital came by here two days ago looking for you.”
“What guy?”
“Wait, I’ve got his card.” I hear Janet pushing some papers around and then she says, “His name is Adam Marcus. The card says he’s a patient outreach coordinator.”
“What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know, but he said he was from the Child Advocacy Center at St. Theresa’s and that Dr. Rondolski asked him to get in touch with you.”
Fucking Rondolski. “What did he want?”
“He didn’t tell me much. Only that he was sent by the hospital to talk to you, and when he couldn’t get you on the phone or reach you at your house, he looked in Stephanie’s records and found me as your emergency contact. He wants to talk to you about her. Don’t you know why?”
“Absolutely no clue. Some stupid hospital paperwork crap, I’m guessing.” There’s a cockroach running across the kitchen counter, and I splat him with the paper towel. “What’d you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know where you were, which is the God’s honest truth. He gave me his card and said as soon as I heard from you, I needed to tell you to call him.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m sure it’s nothing,” I tell Janet. “Give me his number, and I’ll give him a call.”
She tells me the number, which I pretend to write down.
“If he comes back, should I give him this new cell phone number?” she asks.
“Sure. How’s everything there? How’s business? Maxie okay?”
“Things are fine. I’m working with a web designer on the mail-order catalog, and Maxie actually came up and ate dinner in the kitchen last week. Big step and only a little hissing from all parties.”
“Thanks again for taking care of him. I got to go now, but I’ll call again soon. Steph and me see the doctor this week, and then I’ll know more.”
“Please, please keep me posted. And you should probably give Gary a call.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. When you get a chance, do me a favor and call him and give him this cell phone number, okay?”
“Sure. And will you please call me after you see the doctor?”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Also, why
don’t you give me your address so at least I—”
I knock on the kitchen cabinet door and say, “Hey, Jan, that’s my door. Can I call you back?”
“Okay, I’ll talk to—”
I disconnect and yell for Stephanie.
“Get up and put your shoes on. We need to go to the mall so Mommy can buy a new phone.”
23
Claire
I tell Cal everything. About my conversation with Aunt Frannie and my last time with my father. I think I must be all cried out, but when I talk about my dad, the tears come hot and rapid.
“Claire. I’m so sorry,” he says. “He was such a good guy.” I nod, my head wedged into his neck.
Then I tell him about Mom. How she apologized and even seemed to have become a little stronger through the experiences of the past week. And that a new and better relationship between us seemed possible.
We talk until the sun is almost at its peak, and then Cal and I leave the trail and go back to our apartment, undress each other quickly and without the need for a silky robe or any other provocative accoutrements, spend the afternoon in bed, becoming reacquainted. After our mutual confessions, it’s as if we’re—and maybe we are—different people, and as those different people, we need to discover things we don’t yet know about each other or thought we knew but now realize we were wrong. Like, Cal looks into my eyes while we’re making love, something I never knew because I always kept mine squeezed shut—until now. I feel myself unfolding and opening, to him, to myself, as the afternoon slides into early evening. We’re starving but not yet inclined to untangle ourselves from the damp sheets. Fortunately, for some reason, Cal has a half-eaten chocolate bar on the table by his side of the bed, giving me an indication of what kinds of meals he did not make or eat while I was gone.
He props himself up on a pillow, breaks off a piece of the chocolate, and hands it to me, where I’m positioned sideways across the foot of the bed. I put it in my mouth and suck on it until it melts, and then I keep the liquid there a little longer to get the full effect.
The Perfect Fraud Page 12