“If you do,” McKenzie hissed, “why don’t you try to help him instead of making fun of him? Why don’t you try being there for him?”
“Oh, come on, McKenzie. Nobody is making fun of your dad,” Hazel said, not quite rolling her eyes but almost. “It’s just a little gallows humor, that’s all. Your mom is under a lot of stress—”
Hope interrupted her sister.
“McKenzie, I’ve left a home and life I love to be there for him, to be here. But I can’t help him if he’s not willing to help himself.”
“What about counseling?” Hazel asked, looking at her sister.
Hope shook her head. “Rick will never go to a therapist.”
“How do you know that?” McKenzie said; the condescension in her voice made Hope’s jaw clench.
“Because I asked him. About two hundred times.” Hope put down her fork. “Really, McKenzie. Do you honestly think I haven’t tried? I would do almost anything for your father. But what I will not do is sit in that condo day after day, twiddling my thumbs and watching him bake yet another stupid loaf of bread.
“I’ve got to find something to do,” Hope said, sounding almost desperate as she turned toward Hazel. “I’d like to teach, but it’s no better here than it was in Portland. No openings, not even for subs. But, one way or another, I need a job. Maybe not real estate but something.”
“I think that will just make things worse,” McKenzie interjected. “How do you think that would make Daddy feel? If you find a job when he can’t? If you need something to do, why not volunteer work?”
“Because, in addition to a reason to get up in the morning, I also need money. We need money.”
“But I thought things were fine now,” McKenzie countered, her worried frown giving Hope the sense that she was finally listening. “With what’s left of Daddy’s severance, the money from the Portland house, and the lower price of the condo, I thought you guys had enough to get by.”
“Just enough,” Hope said. “If we’re careful. I don’t mind that. When we first got married we didn’t have two nickels to rub together and couldn’t have been happier. I don’t mind forgoing the extras, but I do mind forgoing insurance, especially at our age.”
“Insurance? But I thought you still got it through Dad’s old company.”
Hope shook her head. “They had to keep him on the company policy for a while but not forever. They’ll boot us from the plan at the end of next month. After that, I don’t know what we’re going to do. I checked out private policies and they are way out of our budget. The cheapest one I could find, with really lousy coverage, was over a thousand a month.
“I need to find a job,” she said. “Not just for me. For us.”
Their conversation was less heated after that. McKenzie grew quiet. Hazel changed the subject, talking about people they knew back in Portland. Hope told Hazel about a diet she wanted to try, only to have Hazel say she’d done the same one the year before, then gained back all the weight she’d lost and five pounds besides. Hazel also told her that she’d started taking yoga and was seeing a man she’d met at the gym.
“Really?” Hope said, her ears all but perking up in response. “Is it serious?”
Hazel laughed. “Not at all.”
Nobody wanted dessert. Hazel was feeling a little tired, so she asked if the waitress could get her a go-cup of coffee for the drive back to Portland. After the coffee arrived, they paid the check and got up from the table.
Hazel needed to visit the ladies’ room before leaving, so McKenzie and Hope stood in the lobby of the restaurant, waiting to say goodbye to her. A bowl of peppermints sat on a nearby table. McKenzie plucked two from the bowl and handed one to her mother.
“I shouldn’t have yelled like that,” she said, looking down at her fingers as she fumbled with the candy wrapper.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Hope agreed. “But it’s okay. You were just trying to be protective of your dad. So am I. McKenzie, you need to remember, when it comes to your father, I’ve got a pretty good idea what works by now.”
McKenzie nodded, still looking down at her hands.
“It’s not easy, is it?”
“What? Dealing with your dad?” Hope asked.
McKenzie shook her head and crushed the candy wrapper into a ball.
“Being married.”
“No. Not always,” Hope said slowly, dipping her head, trying to look into her daughter’s eyes. “Kenz? Is there something—”
Just then, Hazel exited the restroom. She had a big, dark stain on her blouse.
“The stupid top came off the stupid cup,” she growled. “And the stupid towel dispenser is empty. And the blouse is brand new. And it’s silk!”
“Don’t move,” Hope said.
Hope jogged past the deserted hostess station and into the dining room, searching for help. It was late and the restaurant was nearly empty, but Hope finally found their waitress, who got her a handful of wet paper towels. When she returned to the lobby with the towels, McKenzie was gone.
“She bounced out of here in a hurry,” Hazel explained. “She got a text and realized she was late for a conference call.”
“A conference call? At this time of night?”
Hazel shrugged to indicate that Hope’s guess was as good as hers.
“She’s working too hard,” Hope said. “I know she’s ambitious and that she and Zach want to be able to buy a house, but I don’t know. . . . Couples should spend time together, especially newlyweds.”
“Well, they’re not newlyweds anymore,” Hazel reasoned. “Everybody works crazy hours these days. It’s just a fact of life. Anyway, she said to tell you she’d see everybody next weekend.”
“Oh, good. I was going to ask her. Liam’s coming home for a few days, so I’m cooking a big dinner on Sunday, corned beef. I don’t suppose you can make it?” Hope asked.
“Wish I could,” Hazel said, dabbing at the coffee stain. “I’m hosting an open house that day. But I’ll try to get back up here before he leaves, promise.”
Hope nodded, trying to mask her disappointment. She knew Hazel was sincere and would try to visit during Liam’s vacation, but she also knew she shouldn’t count on it. The summer selling season in full swing, Hazel was swamped.
“What if Liam and I came down and saw you instead?” Hope asked, her face brightening at the thought. “During the week when you’re not so busy? We could come down on the train.”
“I’d love that!” Hazel exclaimed, tossing the used paper towels into a nearby wastebasket. “You can have the guest room and Liam can sack out on the couch. This will be fun!”
Hope agreed. It would be great to go back home, even if it was only for a couple of days.
“So,” Hazel said as they were leaving, “how are things with McKenzie? Did you two make up?”
“I think so,” Hope said. “Though, when it comes to me and McKenzie, you never really know.”
* * *
McKenzie didn’t really have a conference call.
She just wanted to be gone before Hope returned. Making that comment about marriage being hard was a mistake. She knew how Hope was.
Having opened the door between them and let herself be even the tiniest bit vulnerable, she knew that Hope would try to pry the lid off things that McKenzie really didn’t want to talk about, especially to her mother.
Not that her mom would just come right out and ask her about it. No. Instead she would hem and haw and hint, trying to act casual and disinterested when McKenzie knew she was feeling just the opposite. When it came to her children, Hope could never just leave things lie or let them go. She had to know everything, wanted to be everybody’s savior and best friend. It drove McKenzie crazy.
But that was only part of the reason McKenzie left so suddenly. A moment before Hope went off in search of paper towels, McKenzie’s phone pinged with a text message. As soon as she read it, she was seized by a sudden panic.
She had to get out of there.
> After making excuses to Hazel and jumping into her car, McKenzie sped out of the restaurant parking lot and headed across town. Distracted and anxious, she accidentally drove through a stop sign, slamming on the brakes just in time to avoid being hit by an oncoming SUV.
The driver inside laid on his horn. It had been a close thing for both of them and the fault was entirely hers, but at that moment she honestly didn’t care. She averted her eyes from the wild gestures and angry visage of the other driver and drove away, moderating her speed, but not by much.
The freight forwarding company Zach worked for had its offices in an industrial park, in one of those ubiquitous gray metal buildings you can find anywhere in the country. In fact, the offices looked so much like those surrounding them that McKenzie mistakenly pulled up into the wrong parking lot.
When she saw it was deserted, her pulse started galloping. It wasn’t until she’d made a complete circle around the building, her sense of panic increasing with every heartbeat, that her headlights fell on the sign for Manor Mile Blinds and she realized she was at the wrong building.
She turned the car around, drove two blocks east, then took a right, and spotted the sign for Double Time Logistics. This lot looked empty as well, but not completely deserted. There were a few cars at the rear of the building. A white pickup and a red sedan were parked near the door. A medium-sized blue SUV with vanity plates that said “GUD2GO” was parked near the edge of the lot, under a street lamp.
Spotting Zach’s SUV, McKenzie took in a deep, ragged breath and let it out slowly.
Why had she let herself get so worked up? Zach was at the office and working late, just like he’d said. There was nothing to worry about, no reason to be suspicious or let her imagination run wild.
In fact, if she wanted her marriage to last, there was every reason to do the opposite. She had to figure out how to push through her fears, to trust him again. Only the week before, Zach had caught her skulking behind a half-open door, eavesdropping on his phone conversation.
“How much longer are you going to keep acting like this?” he shouted. “Huh? How long? I ended it. I said I was sorry. I even spent two hours with that stupid marriage counselor you insisted we see! What more do you want from me?”
“I don’t know,” she said, tears turning to sobs when she saw the look on his face and realized that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “I just . . . I’m sorry, Zach. I’m really sorry.”
“Yeah?” he snarled. “Well, instead of being sorry why don’t you try being different. How about you give trusting me a try? You say you forgive me, but then I catch you doing crap like this, spying on me! Quit searching the pockets of my pants after I get home, okay?”
“I wasn’t spying on you,” McKenzie said, her voice a bit firmer. “Not then. I was just cleaning out the pockets before I did the laundry.”
“I don’t care what you were doing, I just want it to stop.” He turned his head away in disgust, as though he couldn’t bear looking at her. “I mean it, McKenzie. If you can’t get over it, then get out.”
Remembering the files she needed to work on over the weekend, McKenzie left the industrial park and headed downtown, still thinking about what Zach said.
She was trying to get over it. God knew she wanted to.
It was a one-off, he’d assured her, a lapse in judgment that would never have happened if he hadn’t had so much to drink. He felt terrible about it, embarrassed and ashamed. If she would forgive him, it would never happen again, he promised.
She did forgive him. But it wasn’t easy.
Nothing about being married was easy. Even getting herself to go through with the wedding had been tough. That weekend when they’d gone to Zach’s parents’ place at the beach, a month before the ceremony, she’d nearly called it off.
But he talked her out of it. She wanted him to talk her out of it. Who wants to be the girl who calls off three engagements in four years?
When they were in Hawaii she was glad she’d gone through with it, really glad. The honeymoon was perfect. Everything was perfect. For a couple of months.
How had her parents made it work all these years? She knew it wasn’t always easy for them either, she’d witnessed the rise and fall of tensions over the years, but things always got back to normal. She didn’t even know what normal was anymore, not when it came to Zach. But he was right; she had to get over it.
He’d said he was sorry, cut way back on the beer; he’d gone to counseling—well, a couple of times. But that wasn’t his fault. The counselor wasn’t a good fit. He didn’t understand them and was making it into a bigger deal than it really was. It was just a mistake, like Zach said, one bad choice.
Zach had done his part to make things right. Now the ball was in her court. She had to forgive him and mean it this time. She had to.
No more eavesdropping. No more checking his pockets. No more suspicion or spying. If he said he was working late, then he was. End of story.
And why wouldn’t he be working late? She did, all the time. Zach was trying to impress his boss and get the promotion they’d been dangling in front of him for the last six months. If it happened, she and Zach would buy a house and start trying for a baby. It was what they both wanted. Thirty-one wasn’t so old, was it? No. There was still time. Definitely.
Arriving at her office, McKenzie turned off the ignition and started digging through her purse to locate the keycard she’d needed to get inside after hours. It had to be in there; where else would it be? But she couldn’t find it, not even after she pulled out her wallet, brush, and birth control pills. She started pulling out more things, smaller things—lip balm, eyebrow pencil, tweezers, half a roll of peppermints—until the bag was empty.
It was no use. The key was missing.
She laid her head down on the steering wheel and sobbed.
Chapter 8
The next day, Hope phoned McKenzie at work. Several times.
McKenzie didn’t answer until the fourth call and sounded very annoyed, especially after Hope said that no, nothing was wrong. She just wanted to confirm that she and Zach would be coming over to the condo the following weekend, for Liam’s welcome home dinner.
“Of course we’re coming. I told Hazel to tell you we were.”
“Just wanted to make sure. I need to know how much corned beef to buy.”
“Mom, it’s over a week away. It’s not like we won’t see you guys three times between now and then.”
“I know. I just wanted to remind you.”
“Mom, I’ve got to go. I’m late for a meeting.”
Hope didn’t believe it. But then, McKenzie hadn’t believed that she called just because she wanted to check on the corned beef count, so maybe they were even.
Hope didn’t get it.
Kids liked her, always had. Most confided in her at the drop of a hat. The boys told her everything—including a few things she could happily have gone her entire life without knowing. Even so, Hope listened to it all and gave them solid, nonjudgmental advice. To everybody, not just her own children.
At school, she was the cool teacher. In the neighborhood, she was the cool mom. From grade school on, McKenzie’s girlfriends would show up in Hope’s kitchen with their worries in tow—parental, romantic, academic, existential—and Hope would listen, advise, and encourage. Many of them continued to stay in touch. They invited Hope to their weddings, sent pictures of their babies. So why, after so many years spent listening to the soul-baring secrets and dreams of other people’s daughters, was it so impossible to have a conversation with her own?
It didn’t make sense. Apart from McKenzie, everybody on the planet seemed eager to share their life story with Hope. Rick called her Mrs. Friendly, joked that she could go through a tollbooth and come out with a relationship. It was exaggeration but not by much. People were always telling Hope their stuff.
It happened again on Friday morning in Starbucks.
Hope went to fill out a job application. Barista wasn�
�t quite the career path she’d planned on, but she heard they offered insurance, even to part-time employees.
The manager, a young woman named Beth, looked harried but was nice enough to sit down and give Hope an interview. Somehow they got around to the topic of Beth’s teething baby, how hard it was for working mothers who were trying to do it all, and how guilty Beth felt about wanting some time to herself.
Hope assured her that a crying baby didn’t mean Beth was a bad mother, that crying was just part of how babies communicate. Then Hope suggested frozen peaches as a means of soothing for sore infant gums and a neighborhood babysitting co-op as a means of soothing jangled mommy nerves while finding some female support, something every young mother needs.
“Thank you,” Beth said, sniffling a little. “I think I really needed to hear that.”
“You’re a good mom,” Hope assured her. “But even the best mom on earth needs a break now and then.
“My mother used to send us to church camp every summer,” Hope said. “The first year I was terrified. When the bus drove up and all the kids started climbing on, I held onto her and cried, very piteously, ‘Why are you sending me away? Don’t you love me?’
“My mother was incredibly devoted, spoiled us really, but that day she just peeled my arms from around her waist and said, ‘I love you and I’ll miss you. But I can’t miss you if you don’t leave. Now get on the bus, Hope. I’ll see you in a week.’”
Beth laughed. “And did you like camp?”
“Loved it. Made a lot of friends and won the award for Most Improved Kayaker, which is the award you get when you have no athletic ability at all.” Hope chuckled. “But it was fun. I went back every year until high school.”
“That’s a great story.”
Beth smiled and looked down at Hope’s application.
“I wish I had an opening for you. I really do. You’d be a good addition. I’ll keep your application on file. But we’re completely staffed up right now. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right,” Hope said, trying to hide her disappointment. “I understand.”
Hope on the Inside Page 5
