A Cup of Silver Linings

by Karen Hawkins

  “She told me everything. Probably even some things she shouldn’t have.”

  “I wish she’d trusted me more. Her diagnosis explains a lot. I always thought she was just being difficult.…” Ellen bit her lip, guilt flooding her. Oh God, I blamed her.

  Kristen’s hand closed over Ellen’s. “Don’t look like that. Mom would tell you she was a handful as a teenager. She told me that hundreds of times.”

  “When she ran away, I looked for her, and when I couldn’t find her, I worried so much. And now I find out she was battling this—and I didn’t even know about it. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

  “Mom never did anything the easy way.” Kristen released Ellen’s hand and pushed her glass of apple cider closer. “She called her six years as a runaway her Big Adventure. It was hard at first, but she was smart and she figured things out.”

  “You said she was in a homeless shelter?”

  “One of several. She wasn’t homeless for long, though.”

  Ellen’s stomach felt sick. She was only seventeen. Oh, Julie, why didn’t you stay with me? We would have figured it out eventually, you and I.

  Kristen took a thoughtful sip of her cider. “Mom took care of her condition as well as she could. She went to her therapist, never missed her meds, did what she could to offset her downswings. She was vigilant.”

  Ellen didn’t know what to say, what to think. “When she finally came back home, she already had you. She never said a word about what she’d been through, and I was so happy to have her there and excited to meet you that I was afraid to ask too many questions.” Ellen’s eyes burned, so dry they hurt. Her tears had already been spent, and she couldn’t wring out another. “God, what an idiot I was.”

  “How could you know?”

  “I should have asked or—or done something. Julie and I… we couldn’t connect. I don’t know why. When she came back with you, we tried to figure things out, but we could never get over the barriers between us. I kept trying to help her, and she kept trying to do everything on her own. And things got more and more tense. Eventually, she got tired of the arguments, took you, and left. And then I—” Her voice caught. I lost both of you.

  Kristen sighed. “I love my mom, I always will, but she wasn’t great at relationships. I know she wished it were otherwise, but it was hard for her to make friends. She and Ava didn’t get close until Mom was sick.”

  Ellen took a careful sip of cider. “I never understood Julie. We were so different, opposites in almost every way. A lot of it was my fault. I had no patience with her. No patience with anyone, really. Her dad left us when she was little, and we never heard from him again.”

  “What a loser.”

  “He wasn’t a strong person and I—to be honest, I think I overwhelmed him. Like Julie, I wasn’t very good at relationships either. I was too hard on both of them. I see that now. I felt she was my responsibility, mine alone, and I wanted her to be successful so badly that I pushed her, and eventually—” Ellen pressed her lips together.

  “She didn’t have the same definition of success.”

  “That was part of the problem, although some of it was just her stubbornness. And mine.” Ellen winced. “Sadly, we had that in common. Maybe her illness kept her from—”

  “Hold on. She didn’t think of being bipolar as an illness. It was just part of who she was. It helped her in some ways and hurt in others, just like any personality trait. Look at me; I obsess over things and get tangled up in doing one thing over and over. But it also means when I get something done, it’s done right. Mom wouldn’t have been able to create all she did if she hadn’t been so in touch with her own emotions. It let her see the world in a really unique way, and that made her who she was.”

  Ellen looked around the house, trying to see it through new eyes, Kristen’s eyes. And what she saw surprised her. Among the clutter and cacophony of color were splashes of Julie’s vibrance. “She used it.”

  “And made a lot of money, too.”

  Ellen gave a dry laugh. “Very true, I suppose. I just wish she’d told me what was going on.”

  “She didn’t tell many people.” Kristen put a piece of cheese on a cracker. “She only told Ava during those last few months.”

  That drew Ellen’s gaze back to the tea. She dusted her fingers on her napkin and picked up the canister. “I guess I’ll make myself some tea.” She smiled at Kristen and was surprised by a flash of—was it regret? No wonder; they’d been talking about a lot of heavy topics. “It was very kind of you to bring me this. I’ve got to get more sleep.”

  Kristen started cleaning up. “It’ll help.”

  Ellen opened the canister and sniffed it carefully, catching the scent of ginger and peppermint and other herbs, too. “It smells delicious. How about you? I’ve seen the light under your door late at night, too. Maybe you should have a cup with me.”

  “No, I’m good.” Kristen glanced at the clock over the kitchen door and made a face. “I’ve got to get to work. I have a paper due tomorrow and I’ve only written half of it.”

  “Leave the rest of the dishes. I’ll finish cleaning up since you ‘cooked.’ It’s only fair.”

  Kristen smiled. “Thank you.” She headed for the door.

  “Wait a second.” Ellen slid off her stool and pulled out a small plate. She added some crackers and cheese and handed it to Kristen. “So you can snack while you study.”

  Kristen took the plate, her face pink. “Thank you. You’re going to eat the rest, right? We both need to do better in the self-care department.”

  Ellen had to fight the urge to give the child a hug. Don’t move too quickly. You’ll ruin what progress you’ve made this evening. So instead of a hug, she held up her hand as if making a pledge. “I’ll eat every last one.”

  “And the tea?”

  Ellen laughed. “I’ll make a cup right before bedtime. I promise.”

  Kristen nodded and, balancing the plate, she picked up her book bag. “Come on, doggos,” she called. The dogs jumped up, wagging their tails as, in a line, they followed her upstairs, leaving Ellen in the kitchen with the canister of tea.

   CHAPTER 8  Ellen

  Ellen awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright as if she’d just surfaced from deep underwater. Gasping for air, she looked around her, alarmed when she didn’t recognize anything. It wasn’t until she caught sight of a painting on the wall which featured Luffy sitting on a dock at a lake that Ellen remembered everything—the invitation, the funeral, her conversation with Kristen, the shared cheese tray, and finally, a comforting cup of Ava Dove’s specialty tea.

  Still groggy, Ellen fell back against her pillows and fumbled for the clock beside the empty teacup on her nightstand. The red dots spelled out 3:33. So much for Ava Dove’s “make you sleep” tea. It tasted good, I’ll give her that, and I did fall asleep almost as soon as I hit the pillow, which was nice for a change. But now here I am, wide awake and it’s not even—

  “For the love of heaven! At least you went to sleep right away; that’s better than you’ve done since my funeral.”

  Ellen froze, blinking in the dark. She knew that voice. She’d raised it.

  “Well?” Julie continued, more impatiently now. “Let’s get this show on the road. I can’t stay all night. I’ve time limits.”

  That couldn’t have been Julie’s voice. It just couldn’t.

  And yet…

  This is a dream. I’m still asleep. Ellen would prove it, too. She sat up, sliding her legs out from under the heavy blankets. It was still dark, although there was an odd blue glow in the room. It’s nothing. A streetlight too close to the window.

  It seemed brighter behind her, so she looked over her shoulder.

  “Ack!” She leapt from the bed, grabbing the blanket and holding it in front of her like a shield.

  Julie sat in one of the fat reading chairs beside the window, her blue eyes shimmering mischievously. “Hi, Mom.”

  “No. You… h
ow… where… how come… I—”

  Julie laughed her larger-than-life laugh. Ellen closed her eyes and soaked in the sound, reveling in it. I’ve missed that laugh.

  “Come sit with me.”

  Ellen opened her eyes. Julie sat smiling, the faint blue glow surrounding her. She wore the clothes she’d been buried in: green-and-yellow-plaid flannel pajama pants emblazoned with a Green Bay Packers logo, a worn-out-looking T-shirt with the words MOTHER OF DRAGONS across the chest, a purple silk kimono embroidered with white and orange lotuses, and a pair of ridiculously large bunny slippers.

  Ellen let go of one corner of the blanket and pressed a shaking hand to her cheek. “I’m dreaming.”

  “Oh, for the love of—” Julie stood and made a flourishing gesture. “Behold, the ghost!”

  “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  Julie snorted. “You can see and hear me, so… If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s a—”

  “No. You’re dead. Or were. I mean, are.” This was so weird. And it hurt like the dickens to see Julie and know she wasn’t really there. Ellen closed her eyes and whispered, “Please let me wake up.”

  There was a deep silence.

  Ellen waited, holding her breath.

  Finally, she cracked open one eye.

  “Boo!” Julie laughed, the infectious sound roiling around the room as if trying to break free.

  “That’s not funny.”

  Julie’s grin was every bit as big as Ellen’s growing irritation. “It’s sort of funny.” She sat back down and waved a hand. “You’ll laugh later, after the shock has worn off.”

  “I will not. You’re dead, Julie.”

  “I know. But I’m also here, so…” Julie shrugged.

  “This isn’t a joke! Not to me, anyway!” Ellen had to swallow before she could continue. “Kristen and I are alone and trying to find a way to move on, which has been so, so hard. And there you are, laughing like nothing happened and I—” Ellen’s voice broke.

  “Whoa!” Julie’s smile had faded. “I didn’t mean to upset you, but—look, I didn’t expect to be here either. I’m supposed to be”—she waved her hand—“other places.”

  “What other places?”

  “I don’t know, just not here. But since I am”—she shrugged—“we might as well make use of it.”

  Ellen stared at her daughter, torn between irritation at Julie’s casual attitude and a deep yearning to believe this moment was really happening.

  It’s a dream, Ellen told herself desperately. Just because you want it to be real doesn’t mean it is.

  Still, for a dream, everything was shockingly clear. She could see every detail of Julie’s thick purple-dyed hair, every stitch in the lotuses on the kimono, every sparkle in those blue, blue eyes. “This is bizarre.”

  “Tell me about it. One minute I’m watching Kristen sleep and the next I’m sitting with you. What’s weirder, you can see me. I didn’t expect that.” She gestured toward the blanket. “You can drop that if you want. I’ve seen your pajamas before.”

  Realizing she was still holding the blanket in front of her, Ellen folded it and placed it back on the bed, then reached for her robe.

  Julie rolled her eyes. “Yes, please wear a robe. Us ghosts can’t see you if you put on a robe.”

  Ellen felt more protected wearing a robe, so she ignored Julie’s taunt. The tie neatly knotted, she slid her feet into her slippers, which were lined up at the end of her bed.

  Julie watched her with a faintly annoyed expression. “You don’t need to dress up. This isn’t a formal event.”

  Ellen took a step toward Julie. “What this is, is weird.”

  “True.” Julie tilted her head to one side, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “I wonder why we’re here?”

  “I’m dreaming. That’s all I know.”

  “Yes, but I don’t dream, and I’m here too. There’s a reason we’re talking. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the afterlife, it’s that nothing happens without a reason.”

  “The afterlife? Then—”

  “There is one? Yes. Not what I’d imagined it would be, but then, I didn’t really have expectations. Not big ones.” Julie’s brow creased. “Which brings me back to my original question: Why are we here, in this room, together?”

  Ellen had no idea. This was a dream, no question, but she still yearned to make it last as long as possible. Julie was right there, and even if it wasn’t real, it was as close to Julie as Ellen would ever be again.

  I must be careful not to wake up or this—Julie—will be gone. Moving slowly, Ellen sat in the chair opposite her daughter, perching uneasily on the edge of the seat.

  Julie watched every move. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t want to jar myself awake.”

  “Oh. That’s actually pretty smart.” Julie eyed her curiously. “You always were clever.”

  “So were you.”

  Julie raised her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s— I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

  Ellen frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? I gave you credit when you did things well.”

  “Mmm. No. You gave me credit when I did things the way you thought they should be done.”

  That was utter nonsense. Ellen opened her mouth to argue but then thought better of it. Why ruin a perfectly good dream? “How are things”—she waved a hand—“wherever you are?”

  “Not bad.” Julie pulled her feet up into her seat and wrapped her arms around her knees. She looked ridiculously young, and Ellen noticed that even in the afterlife, her daughter had scorned the need for a hairbrush.

  Julie started to raise her hand to her hair but then caught herself and sighed. “Please. I like my hair this way.”

  She can read my thoughts.

  Julie grinned, a touch of scamp in her expression. “Yes. Yes, I can. But I like hearing your voice.” Her smile faded, and her gaze searched Ellen’s face. “How’s Kristen?”

  “She’s sad. Exhausted. And upset, too. But that’s to be expected. She’s still going to school and working at Ava’s tearoom, too, although,” Ellen added, “I worry about that. She’s really busy between classes and her job. I wonder if she shouldn’t just focus on her grades.”

  “How are her grades? Have they slipped?”

  “From what her teachers have told me, she’s maintaining them, but she’s far too busy. She should be home more.”

  “Kristen needs the challenge of a demanding schedule. Trust me, I’ve seen her when she has too much free time. She frets and worries—she needs to stay busy.”

  “Children also need downtime. You did, when you were that age.”

  “My daughter isn’t like me. She wants everything to be perfect. It’s where her impulses, her character, lead her. So she worries. A lot. Too much, in fact.”

  Ellen was silent a moment, digesting this information. “Her counselor at the school did call her an overachiever.”

  “Kristen’s test scores are off the charts. She was tested for the gifted program in middle school, and the counselor said they’d never seen anything like it.”

  A trill of pride lit Ellen’s heart. “That’s good to know. I’m just not sure about her job. The Doves are… well, they’re different. Maybe if she worked somewhere else—”

  “Mom, stop it!” Julie’s smile was long gone. “There’s nothing wrong with the Doves. And Kristen’s job has been the saving of her. Working for Ava forced Kristen out of her shell. Before she started working there, she was painfully shy. She kept to herself, and not just at home, but at school, too. She only has two friends—just two. Now she knows almost everyone in town. When she walks down the street, people speak to her, and she waves and smiles back.” Julie’s expression softened. “Her job has given her confidence. She needed that.”

  Maybe. Ellen thought about the pamphlets she’d brought with her of the private schools she’d thought would welcome Kristen. They were filled with colorful pictures of happy,
healthy, cheerful students, none of whom had purple hair or nose studs. “Kristen could get the same thing from an academically rigorous, culturally enriching school. If she’d just—”

  “Mom, no. Kristen is getting all the cultural enriching she needs right here in Dove Pond.”

  Ellen couldn’t have disagreed more. While she was sure there were some good things to be said about living in a small, backwoods place like Dove Pond, nothing could match the carefully constructed benefits offered by a premier private school.

  Julie rolled her eyes. “Bullshit.”

  Ellen’s jaw tightened. “Stop reading my mind!”

  A half hour ago, she’d wanted nothing more than to talk to her daughter. But now… she struggled to calm her thoughts. If I’m going to dream about Julie, I might as well make it better than real life. Fewer arguments. Less anger. More understanding. More connecting. For a horrible minute, Ellen remembered the last argument she and Julie had had, the terrible things they’d both said, their anger striking each other like flint against a stone. I don’t want that again. Never again.

  “Mom.” Julie’s expression had softened. “That’s what I want too. And I’m just as worried about Kristen as you are. She’s really, really sad.”

  Ellen nodded. “She’s not sleeping well.”

  “I know.” Julie’s expression was somber. “I come to see her all the time. I know she’s suffering. I can feel it.”

  “She’s going to hurt, Julie. She’s going to grieve.”

  Julie’s bright blue light visibly dimmed. “I hate that.”

  “So do I.”

  They were quiet a minute, commiserating on their one common heartache.

  Julie sighed. “I miss her. It’s hard to know your daughter is alive and going through her life, but you aren’t there and won’t ever be, even when she needs you.”

  Ellen raised her eyebrows and said drily, “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

  Julie looked at her with surprise. After a moment, her mouth formed an O. “I guess I did do that to you when I ran away, didn’t I?”