by C. M. Newman
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: GEORGE AND RUTH
Though things were going smoothly and as expected, Vince sank into somewhat of a depression over the next day, mostly from his guilt. Guilt for missing Charlie’s baseball games. Guilt for not always returning Angela’s sweet and patient gestures in kind. Guilt for Mitch being jobless and homeless. And, as always and above all things, guilt for leaving.
The fact that it was Father’s Day didn’t help. Vince had dreaded it, foolishly he felt. It was just a greeting card holiday to him, though on Mother’s Day he had not neglected to send Jenna flowers and had insisted on making Angela something nice for dinner. Whatever Vince’s feelings toward the holiday, though, Charlie was aware of it and insisted on making a big deal about it. He made a truckload of cards for his father. Angela also refused to let the day pass by unnoticed. As her gift to Vince, she brought over the unused television from her apartment to put in their bedroom, as he was spending more and more waking hours stuck there and growing bored. Any time he got up and moved about too much, his officially diagnosed bronchitis would flare up, sending him back to bed anyway in an unremitting coughing fit.
Father’s Day wasn’t all bad, though. Vince was grateful for Charlie’s attention despite how bittersweet his blood ran when he read the cards and deciphered the drawings. He was also grateful that despite Angela’s differences with her parents, they hadn’t refused her invitation to join them, Mitch, Charlie, and Jenna for dinner that evening. It was a tight fit around the table, even with the leaf added in. Vince figured the Hawkinses had only come to avoid offending the dying man, but he knew it brought Angela one step closer to a comfortable relationship with them again.
Charlie’s warming up to Angela’s parents so quickly helped waft away the tension in the air. He spent the time between dinner and his bedtime showing Angela’s mother the cards he’d made for his father, then employing her in his quest to make as many more as he could.
Angela excused herself and her father for a walk. Although she treasured the fact that both her families could combine without drama, she hadn’t seen her father in several weeks and wanted to make sure he knew that she had been thinking about him.
George was the first to break the silence on their twilit stroll. “He’s a very nice man.”
Angela half-smiled and took hold of her father’s arm. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times and you probably want me to shut up, but I haven’t really apologized in person yet, so…I’m sorry. I think when I hid the marriage from you, I underestimated your desire for me to be happy.”
“That you did. But I forgive you. I did long ago. You know that.”
Angela supposed she did know, and that most of the problem lay in her relationship with her mother. “Has Mom forgiven me?”
“She just wants to be let in, sweetheart. It’s not about the wedding anymore. She just wants to be a part of your life.”
“I’m not trying to lock her out,” Angela said, shaking her head. “I just—I’m spread so thin, I can’t take the time away from Vince and Charlie to come to your guys’ house and tend to Mom’s feelings. I know that sounds awful, but I only have so much in me. I’d be happy to have her over, but I barely have the time and energy to go to the grocery store let alone take an afternoon to come to your place. You know no conversation with her—in person, anyway—is a quick thing.”
George’s chuckle told Angela he understood what she meant. “I’ll make sure we drop by to visit again, take the pressure off you. I never really thought about it that way. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just…I can’t handle one more person needing me. I’m so tired, Dad.” Angela choked on a sob and didn’t fight it when her father stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk and embraced her. “I don’t know how much more I can take,” she said into his shoulder. “People said it would be hard, but I had no idea...”
“You’ll be okay, honey. We’ll make sure of it.”
“It’s not even about the after, really. I’m…I have faith that God will get me through that when the time comes. Right now it’s just a matter of getting through each day, and my thoughts and feelings are just completely scattered. I’m…I’m exhausted.”
“I would say ‘I know,’ but I don’t think I do, Angie. I can’t imagine having to do all this with your mother. Is there anything I can do?”
Angela shook her head at first, but then nodded instead. “This. This is good. I try not to let him see me cry too much because he’s depressed enough as it is. And his brother moved in to help him and spend time with him, not baby me. So I haven’t really unloaded in a while.”
“I’m right here as long as you need me.” Angela’s father stroked her back.
She rambled on. “Our friends come by and they ask me how I’m really doing after Vince goes to bed, and I can’t bring myself to tell them that I’ve just about had it. Because it’s only been three weeks since his doctor said he had one to two months. It’s not over yet. If I lose it now, then how is that fair to him?” She paused and lowered her voice as if someone were spying on them. “Don’t tell Mom, but I was smoking for a while. Not habitually or anything. Anyway, I quit. Vince made me.”
“Then not only is he a nice man, he’s a good husband, too.”
“He’s a perfect husband.”
“Have you been eating all right?” George asked. “If you don’t mind me shifting the focus a little.”
Angela shrugged against her father, still not ready to leave the safety of his embrace. “I haven’t been hungry. It’s impossible for me to be hungry when I see Vince starving himself without being able to help it. I just eat so Charlie and Mitch won’t feel too weird about it. But it seriously makes me sick to my stomach sometimes. I thought I was a stress eater but this is obviously a stress I’ve never known until now.”
“You look like you’ve lost some weight.”
“I don’t want to make this about me, Dad. Not in that sense. I’ll be fine. I’ll get myself back on track eventually. I just…I need to find a way to get through this. I’ve been looking into some online support groups, but I don’t want to hear other people’s sob stories. I just want…I want somebody to make it all go away. They all said it was going to hurt when he died, but if it’s this bad today, then I don’t know how I’ll make it to tomorrow or the next day. I don’t even know what to think. What to feel. I mean, how am I supposed to feel? Am I supposed to hope he can keep milking more time out of this, or am I supposed to want his suffering to end? Or do I not have the luxury of choosing? Not that I’d get my way, or that I deserve to get my way, but am I even allowed to have a preference? I don’t know what would make me a worse person—wishing that he gets more time which is just going to prolong his suffering…or wishing that he dies.”
“It’s not so black and white, honey,” George said softly. “You’re conflicted, and I know that both options are equally attractive and unattractive at the same time. You know what I think?”
“Huh?” Angela hummed, still clinging to the man who had helped give her life.
“You feel what you need to feel. It doesn’t mean you have to say it to him. But if it’s cathartic for you to wish for his suffering to be over on some days, then let yourself wish for it. And if some days it feels more appropriate to pray for more time, then do that. Like you said, it doesn’t mean you’ll get your way, but if it’s what you need to make it through this, then use it. And you know you can talk to your mother or me any time, day or night. And I promise, we’ll come visit more.”
Angela nodded and sniffled what she hoped would be one last time for now. “I’d love that. Thank you.” When she drew away from her father, she took his arm again and continued their walk. “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Do you think the flowers were enough for Mother’s Day? I was kind of a schmuck for not taking her out to brunch or something.”
“Well,” George said, clearing his throat
, “I’m sure you got a better score than I did, seeing as how I forgot.”
“Dad!” Angela gasped, staring at him, mouth and eyes agape. “You did not.” When he admitted guilt with a sheepish grin, she let out a short cackle.
George moved his hand to his daughter’s cheek. “There’s the laugh that I love.”
—
“What’s this about?” Ruth asked once she and her daughter were finally alone at a local coffeehouse. After getting home from her walk with her father, Angela had promised to drive her mother home after some time with just the two of them.
“I just wanted us to be able to talk,” she said. “I’m…so sorry about how I handled things with the wedding.”
“Water under the bridge,” Ruth said.
“No, it’s not. Ever since my freshman year of college, I’ve been actively blocking you guys out. I make rash, selfish decisions that affect others, I admit my mistakes, and then I get all worked up when you and Dad actually react like normal parents. Like normal human beings.”
“Dear, I’m not mad at you. I’m not even upset or disappointed.” Ruth took Angela’s hands off her coffee mug and enfolded them in her own. “I just miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” Angela said, gulping.
“I see you’re serious about church again. That’s so great to hear.”
“I wasted a lot of time using my history as an excuse to stay away. It definitely feels right being back in touch with that part of myself.”
Ruth smiled. “Maybe your father and I will start coming to church with you. There’s a little too much political drama at ours anyway, and it would be nice to have a reason to see you every week.”
A tranquil smile stretched across Angela’s face. “I’d love that.”
“So, tell me what else has been going on lately. There’s got to be more than…nurses and baseball practice and having your brother-in-law living in your living room. How are things between you and Vince?”
“As good as they can be. I mean, I like to think we’re a strong couple. We’ve had our moments, some tiffs here and there, but overall we’re doing really well. Sometimes I wonder if I could possibly ever find someone I love half as much as him. There are billions of men on this planet and this…masochistically romantic part of me likes to think that I found my soul mate against all of those odds. And then I realize that being romantic right now is downright depressing.”
“I for one have a vested interest in you finding someone new. Not right away, of course. Give yourself time. But I still haven’t given up on grandchildren, you know. Even if you were to adopt someday. I’ve always wanted to be a grandma and I’ve always wanted to see you with a baby. I can’t help it.”
Angela added an extra sugar packet to her coffee. “I haven’t told a soul what I’m about to tell you, and neither has Vince, because we didn’t want to add to the pressure, but…he and I actually did try for a baby. We found out yesterday that it won’t happen for sure. Originally I was against it, but right about when his last round of chemo started, I panicked and changed my mind. I convinced him I wasn’t crazy and we tried, but it was only for maybe five weeks.”
“Why did you give up?”
“Mom, just look at him,” Angela murmured sadly. “He wanted to keep trying and keep trying, but I had to put my foot down. He’d just start coughing…sometimes for a few minutes straight without being able to stop. And the pain’s been really bad for a while. I just couldn’t keep doing that to him. Besides, I was right in the beginning, when I’d decided against the whole thing, before I went berserk.”
“Right about what?”
“I can’t purposely bring a baby into this world knowing that it won’t have a father. I see how scared Vince is of leaving Charlie and I realize how selfish it would be of me to create a child knowing it would never know its father. Charlie will be okay eventually, I know, but Vince would’ve done anything in his power not to leave him. Not just because he loves his son but also because he knows how important it is for a child to have a father in his life. We know the statistics. We’ve seen them. And I know millions of women out there go it alone and they and their kids are fine and some are even better for it, but I can’t help but think that if those women had known someone like Vince, he would have made them happy. This Vince, that is—not the workaholic Vince. He was a little harder to handle, I think,” Angela said with a wry grin. “Anyway, the more I think about it seriously, the more I realize I don’t want to purposely deprive my child of something so important. And I know I was fooling both of us when I convinced myself and then him that it wouldn’t be too risky. It was so selfish of me. I was so desperate. But now that all those hopes are dashed and I can see more clearly, I’m realizing again that I really don’t want to do this without him. It took all night for it to really sink in, but I’m glad we didn’t conceive.”
Ruth suddenly looked like she hadn’t aged so well. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You still must be heartbroken.”
“I am, but I’ll be okay. Eventually, anyway,” Angela said.
“I’m glad you told me,” Ruth said with the shyest of smiles.
“So am I,” Angela realized. “I don’t think I’ll ever tell anyone else, but I’m glad I told my mom.”