Maybe Someday

by Ede Clarke

  “How did you do that? How did you know?” she asked.

  “The reason we need to talk tonight is the same reason I knew the numbers would be different. You guys are family, but each of you are so incredibly different. I can do a better job taking care of you if I get to know each of you better. I mean really get to know you, not just if you like carrots.” Hector smiled as I continued, “or if you don’t like wearing purple.” I winked at Clara. “I want to put some plans in place so that I can spend some real time with each of you without neglecting the rest of you or the responsibilities that I have in this house. This won’t happen by chance, so we have to plan it out. I have some ideas. You guys ready?”

  The look on Beth’s face was heartbreaking as the wall of anger reared itself immediately while I continued, “You know, for about two years after my Mom died, I didn’t want to spend time with anyone. Didn’t want to chat. Didn’t want to know what books my friends were reading. Didn’t want to know what vegetables were growing best for Candy. I didn’t want to know things that would just remind me of them after they were gone.” I paused for a moment to make sure they were tracking with me. “After a few years though, I realized I like to look at tulips now because I remember they were my Mom’s favorite. And I like to make pie crust because I use her recipe and she had the best pie crust. And even though she is gone, most of the other people I love are not and won’t be for a very long time. And, we have no idea of when they will leave. So we either live alone or in relationship with people. I tried living alone, guys. I did it for almost four years. But I came out to be with you. So if you think I’m going to let you off the hook now, you’re so wrong. It’s already too late anyway. I already love each of you very much.”

  Rolling of the eyes, “Cooties!,” and the staring-at-the-carpet gaze were the most popular responses, but I continued.

  “So, here are a few changes to our daily routine: Number one: Every night when I’m making dinner, one of you will sit at the kitchen table and be with me the whole time. You’ll time me to make sure we don’t eat too late, which has been a constant problem, I know, and I’m sorry.”

  “What are we supposed to do?” Hector broke in.

  “Depends on what is going on. We can chat. You can do homework. Whatever makes sense that day. The schedule will be posted on the board in the kitchen. Jackie and Lizzie, I’ll tell you the day before it’s your turn.”

  No more objections, although no great encouragement either.

  “Number two: Everyone, including me, is getting up fifteen minutes earlier each morning so that we will all sit down together to eat breakfast.” Big surprise that the response to this item was a deafening rejection from each party.

  I waited for a good ten minutes before everyone started to lose a bit of steam and then I broke in, “I want to start my day talking to you guys, not yelling down a hallway, not throwing toast on a plate as you walk past me. People who love each other spend time together. We will begin each day as a family.

  “Number three . . . ” I paused for a second, suddenly extremely exhausted and overcome with the reality that my body was failing my brain and not keeping up, “Number three is even worse than number two. So, are you ready? . . . Number three: There will be immediate consequences to disobedience. I have told you guys over and over that you must obey your Father and you must obey me. However, I have not been consistent in punishing you when you are disobedient. Well, that stops right now. I am going to stop whatever I’m doing and make the time from here on out. This is to help you live within healthy boundaries that will help you live happier and healthier lives inside and outside this house. Because I love you I am making the time to help you grow into people who can love others and love yourselves.”

  “This stinks,” and “You’ve got to be kidding me,” and “Yeah, we’ll see,” came flying, and then silence.

  “Well, it’s getting late. So if no one has any questions, let’s get washed up and into bed. Little ones upstairs with me and then I’ll make the rounds.” As I began to rise I heard Hector mumble, “It’s a little hard to obey someone who’s never home.”

  I immediately went to him and dropped to my knees, to his eye level, “Oh, Hector. Please don’t talk like that about your Father. I know he works a lot. But, he loves you very much and it’s really important for you to respect him and not talk bad about him. I don’t want to hear any of you saying anything disrespectful like that against your Dad. Okay?” Most responded with nods and “Oks.” I held Hector as he wept into my chest.

  Candy and I snuck a rare Parkside moment, the first in too many months. “You’d be so proud of me, Candy. I haven’t read a full chapter of any book since I became a Tedesco.”

  We both laughed. “You finally took a chance again on love,” Candy smiled at me.

  “Yeah, but not the one you wanted me to,” I apologetically confessed.

  “That’s not true, Patty. Really, it’s not.”

  I was shocked. “Really?”

  “It wasn’t necessarily a man that I wanted you to love again, just men in general. You found your capacity to love again.”

  “Man, this hot fudge is so good,” I tried to make a yuk, yuk. It fell a bit flat so I followed with, “But another dime increase.”

  “Yeah,” Candy winced, “Any day now.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed, “Any day. You know, I was folding laundry the other day and some memories came flooding back—so real I had to purposefully take myself out of them and reenter reality,” I told her.

  “’bout what?” she asked.

  “Mostly Russ and all of us really, back in school.” There was a nostalgic silence, both allowing the other to go where we wanted to for a few minutes. “I remember telling my mom, 'Mom, I think I met the kind of guy you always told me about.' I remember calling her the very next day because it just shocked me so much that my Mom was so right. It was the beginning of me knowing just how wise she was. 'He’s nice and a gentleman and tall and believes the same things and doesn’t mind talking and listens really good' and . . . Where did you go, Candy?” we both smiled at each other, a bit embarrassed.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I offered.

  “I’m not holding back because I don’t want you to know,” she said, “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Oh, I see. Well then, feel free to spare me.”

  The silence continued. “Mom and Dad?” I finally asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Which part. Go ahead . . . I don’t mind”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really see it that segmented anymore, or even chronological. Just a big mess of emotions and me feeling helpless in just watching you go through it.”

  “You were good, Candy. You were and you should know that.”

  “I don’t mean I need you to tell me . . . ”

  “No, no, no . . . I . . . I’m not saying it because I think you need to hear it. I’m saying it because I’ve never said it to you before and it needs to be said. Thank you.” A few tears flowed down her cheeks and she quickly wiped them away. I held her hand briefly and we sat there in memories, really bad memories, as they turned into good ones.

  I went back to “When I met him and called Mom to tell her that she was right.”

  “You told your Mom that she was right?”

  We both laughed.

  “If nothing else, Russ brought me and Mom close those last five years or so before she died.”

  “Yeah, she had an uncanny way of looking at someone and just knowing,” Candy remembered. “Remember when she called that one boyfriend of yours ‘Quicksand’?” It jolted our memories.

  “Oh, wow . . . yes, I do: “He’s Quicksand, Candy. Quicksand through and through. He pulls down everything around him.”

  We both laughed and laughed at the memory of my mother’s bluntness and her wisdom to speak what she knew. “He lasted longer than he would have if you weren't trying to prove her wrong!” she admitted.

  Frank fill
ed our coffee cups several times as we recreated moments that created us, many of which we wished had never happened.

  “What are you doing? Get up! Did you drop some money on the floor or something?” I asked Russ at this Mexican fast food whole-in-the-wall at 2 o’clock in the morning. The place was barely wide enough for three people to stand shoulder to shoulder, barely grazing the three two-seater tables slammed up against a greased-stained wall. Why on earth would he be pawing the floor in this place? “Russ, you’re about to eat nachos. Why are you on this floor?” He looked up at me and then I realized he was on one knee. It was awful and wonderful. Awful at the realization that this was where and when and how. Wonderful in that he was proposing. The three Mexicans at the short-order window who manage the place, take the orders, prepare the orders, and everything else in the joint, were suddenly staring at us. Russ felt their eyes too and looked away from me which triggered my eyes to follow his. Without him ever saying a word, the Mexicans were so emotional and waiting with such expectant excitement for my answer that I said, “Yes!” but to them, and before Russ had even asked me a question. As soon as I said it they started shouting and singing and Russ leaped up and took me in his arms and was swinging me around, as my feet were hitting the chairs, tables, walls and windows. It was a crazy college moment that meant a lot to us at the time.

  “I’ll tell my parents at Christmas and then at Spring break you come home and meet them. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I told him. And then we ate our nachos.

  “Do you think if Russ didn’t fail out of school you guys would have been married before graduation,” asked Candy.

  “No way. We had always said we would wait until after graduation for sure. But, yeah, him having to go back to New Jersey that next semester sure did change everything . . . But it didn’t have to, you know?”

  “You still blame him,” she said so coolly.

  “He could have at least broke up with me, Candy. That would have been the decent thing to do instead of just letting it leak out slowly over the years with no clarity so we just kept hurting each other.”

  “You hold onto the fact that he never actually broke up just to validate that you can’t get over him. I think the fact that it’s been like seven years and you haven’t heard from him except right after the funeral means it’s over.” And there was that straight-talk that I just could not handle concerning Russ. I use to completely shut down and in most cases wouldn’t even talk about him because it always led to the illogical ways I had consistently made a fool of myself with anything concerning him.

  Competent in most areas of my life, but embarrassingly errant with anything having to do with Russ. I wanted to hurt her—say something about her not having a relationship longer than three months so no wonder she couldn’t understand a love lasting seven years. I wanted even more to just stop the conversation. Stop talking. Punish her that way and also give myself an out. Even more, just slap some money on the table and tell her I’ll call in a month.

  But, then the strangest thing happened. I finally let my best friend into my secret dark corner, “I still love him and I don’t know why and I know it doesn’t make sense and I know he hasn’t proven himself worthy of it but I’m still holding out a bit.” Until I said it out loud, I don’t think I even knew that all these years I was saying no to other things because I was still waiting for him. Maybe if he would get married that would close the chapter, but just last year I heard he was still single.

  Candy let me off the hook. She didn’t examine the serious change in my behavior or reply with, “I can’t believe we’re talking about this!” She graciously nodded her head, briefly put her hand on mine, and said, “When can I see The Five? I miss them.”

  I smiled and began to think through the next month, for a pocket of time for us all, when Candy said, “Speaking of missing. You never talk about the library, Patty. Don’t you miss it? I can’t imagine walking away from Rich’s.”

  “I miss it sometimes, sure. Mostly I miss not being able to look back on the day and have a sense of completion. You can check things off a list like updating the budget or sorting new research. Now I have to pace myself and wait for the payoffs as they trickle in. I miss the instant pride puff, you know? The task-oriented life instead of the people-oriented life. You can’t check a five-year old off a list.”

  Six months down the road The Five and me were doing so much better, and they seemed to like themselves better too. Beth was still distant and didn’t seem to have but one friend, but she was much more obedient and was really helpful with the rest of the kids. The biggest problem was that I found myself feeling like a single mother to kids that weren’t even mine. Sunday morning was the only time the kids usually saw Ted, and that was only for about thirty minutes before he headed off to the office. The guy never took a day off, unless he was traveling and even then he was working and away. At about the nine-month mark, we rarely talked about him at all. It was almost like he wasn’t a part of the family. We didn’t talk about anything he said to them or did with them or did with a friend of his. We didn’t talk about anything he liked or was good at or was bad at. We didn’t talk about anything that he did that was funny or disgusting or for the first time or last time. We talked about their mother a lot. I made sure it was no longer taboo to remember her and wonder about her and cry about her and laugh about her. It was almost like they were both dead, but only she was remembered.

  “Mom and Dad are coming in. Can you and The Five spend a Saturday with us? We can do whatever,” Madeleine bubbled with excitement. “I can’t wait to see them, Patty. It’s been too long.”

  “I’m thrilled for you, Mad. Yeah, we only have one birthday party this month and no sleepovers. So, you’re in luck. The third weekend would be best. How about a snow picnic if the weather allows and the aquarium if it’s too blustery?”

  “Perfect! I’ll let them know and call you next week to firm up times. It’ll be great to see you, too.”

  Beth sat at the kitchen table and announced the time clock for dinner preparation had been punched, “Go! You’ve got thirty minutes.” She finally seemed to like these times with just the two of us in the kitchen. The self-conscious, pre-teen Beth disappeared when no one else was interrupting her or crowding her thoughts. With space, Beth was a confident, articulate lover of history and soccer and had very passionate opinions on both. It was wonderful to see her expanding knowledge while at the same time challenging it and making sure it fit into her world view. She was maturing into a unique combination of thinker and feeler that is rare indeed, and had already mentioned the middle school debate team more than once. Next year she would be eligible and I couldn’t wait for her to terrorize the unsuspecting passionless persuaders. It made me smile inside to think about it.

  At dinner that night Hector asked, “Why do we have to meet these people? They’re your friends, not ours?”

  “I don’t mind,” said Clara, “We get to have a fun day out no matter what. I want to run and run until no one can catch me.”

  “That might be a little tough with it being January, honey.” I winked at our fearless Clara. “But you can try of course as your boots probably sink in the snow up to your knees.”

  We all giggled at the thought of it and because we have all been there and could remember the helplessness of being stuck in snow.

  “It’s so fluffy, so why does it stop me sometimes?” asked Jackie.

  “Good question,” I thought.

  “Yeah, it looks fine until you’re in it up to your waist,” added Hector.

  “Maybe if we knew for sure we would sink into it, we wouldn’t go,” I offered.

  “Yeah, but you never really know what kind it is until you step on it,” said Clara.

  “You only say that because you’ll do anything,” said Hector. “You don’t have to step on it to know. You can throw a heavy rock”

  “ . . . or Jackie!” interrupted Lizzie. We all broke out laughing and I thought what precious mom
ents Ted was missing.

  The weather cooperated and The Five were able to romp and explore under canopies created by snow on Douglas Fir branches and up to snow drifts created by months of the wind carrying snow to the edge of the trees on the North side of Delaware Park. Kenny and Bethy amazed Mad and I at their ability to keep up and stay physically and mentally ahead of The Five, especially Beth. They quickly won the trust of most of the children, as kids can often discern quicker than adults the true heart of a person.

  “So, you’ve known her a long, long time, huh?” asked Jackie.

  “Well, now, probably about four years. We met Patty about a year after she started working with Madeleine at the library,” Bethy answered as she grabbed Jackie from behind a rough trunk. “Gotcha!”

  He giggled and giggled.

  “Then tell us something about her,” Hector asked.

  “Now, come on,” Bethy shook her head back and forth, “I’m not playing that game. I think you’ll find Patty very open. Ask her yourself any questions you have.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll hurt her feelings,” Hector admitted with his chin to his chest.

  Bethy turned to Hector with Jackie still between her knees, trapped, “That is very kind of you, Hector. But, part of having a real relationship with someone is sometimes asking hard questions. She’ll let you know if she doesn’t want to talk about something.”

  Kenny looked at Bethy at that point. Beth noted the two exchanging looks.

  As we sat down for a winter picnic, I remembered this was how it all began. But last time Ted was with us. I wondered if it was a bad idea to be doing this again since it might make the kids miss him more, also recalling that memory. Too late now.

  “So, what is the something that we shouldn’t ask you about?” Beth asked as they all dove into their hot dogs and hamburgers on frozen park benches.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  Beth looked at Bethy and then at Kenny, expecting them to help with the answer. “Never mind,” Beth said exasperated and went on eating.