by Ede Clarke
“No, no. I don’t like never minds. You can ask me anything. Go ahead.”
“Well, I don’t really have anything to ask you. I just wanted to know what it was that Uncle Kenny and Aunt Bethy know is off limits. But since I don’t know what it is, I can’t ask. Now can I?” An even more exasperated Beth stopped eating at this point and stared off into the woods.
“Why aren’t you married?” asked Hector.
How do I explain to an 8 year old boy what I can’t explain to Candy, or even to some extent to myself?
“Aren’t you getting close to the age?” added Hector.
Bethy and I looked at each other. “What age?” asked Bethy.
“The no-hope age,” Hector answered. “You know, when there’s no more chance of it happening.”
“I didn’t know there was such an age, Hector,” I told him, and myself. Bethy caught my eye and nudged my gaze toward Beth, who was now absolutely engrossed in our conversation. “What do you think, Beth?” I took advantage of the opportunity. “Is there a no-hope age?”
There was a long pause with several different looks that came over the twelve-year old’s face, from feigned indifference to a little smile, and then out came, “I guess it all supposes what you hope for.”
Kenny, Bethy, and I looked at Beth and each other and back at Beth. “Profound, my dear,” praised Kenny.
“Do you have an interest in philosophy?” added Bethy.
Beth just shook her head and seemed embarrassed. But then she looked back at me and asked, “So what do you hope for?”
Kill me now! How do I answer that? “It depends on when you ask the question, I suppose, Beth,” I stalled. But then I got to thinking I really meant it.
“Well then, right now?” she continued.
Tenacious and intelligent. “Now I wish for your Father to be here like he used to be and for me to have the intuition of a mother.”
Beth had no immediate reply, but Lizzie broke in pretty quickly, “That’s not about you, though. That’s about us. What do you hope for you? That will answer the no-hope age question; not hoping for something for us.”
“Too smart for you, Patty,” Kenny chuckled as he pushed his shoulders back and looked down the table at Lizzie like a proud Papa.
“I’d rather hear about your dreams and hopes. Mine are all washed up. Energize me. Inspire me. Teach me to imagine again,” I challenged them.
For the next thirty minutes, through dessert and into coffee and hot chocolate, The Five dazzled us old folks with ideas made for kings and explorers and peacemakers and scientists. “I want to discover the only mountain in the whole world that is one huge diamond,” said Jackie.
“Patty?” nudged Mad.
“Jackie, do you know there is a story written about just such a mountain?” I asked him.
“There is?” he sat stunned, like he was looking right at it.
“More incentive to learn how to read next year, huh?” Beth helped along.
“When can I read it? Can you read it to me?” he asked everyone at the table.
“Of course. Someday soon we’ll sit down and have a look,” I told him.
“Me, too,” came from several other mouths at the table.
Fantasy and reality are so closely mixed when reading. If only our hope in life can be as magical as the diamond mountains we read of. But that mountain did turn into a battlefield. Life for some is without consequences and for others grave consequences at the expense of others.
“Yes, let us all read of the diamond mountain and learn of life and love and disappointment,” I told them.
“Now,” Mad mouthed to me over the table, “you’re back asking the question of why you’re not married.” We both giggled, but mine was bitter and hers seemed lighter. I saw Beth catch every nuance.
Three days before Beth’s thirteenth birthday she sat down at the kitchen table to time me for dinner. “How long do I have?” I asked her as I began to wash potatoes in the sink. My back was to her so I thought she was just ignoring me or in a bad mood and punishing me with silence. I waited a bit and then, frustrated and without looking at her, I said, “It was a simple question, Beth. How long?” A slight whimper began and quickly turned into crying. I flung around and saw this beautiful brown-haired girl sob with the pain of an adult. “What is it, Beth. I’m so sorry I said that. Honey, what it is,” I asked as I held her and got the back of her shirt all wet from my hands. “You don’t have to talk about it. It’s all right. It’s all right, now.” Her heaving ceased and she pushed back a bit. I got a good look at her as I handed her a napkin from the center of the table. She looked hurt and confused. I was glad to see the anger that had much controlled her the first six months of us living together was not playing a role in the current crisis. “Honey, can I help?” I swung the closest chair right up next to hers so I could give my back a rest from the bending down position and sit instead.
“Is it true that love only counts when it goes both ways?”
I’m so glad The Five only ask easy questions. Good gracious! Can I jump online for about three days and go to the library and then get back to you on that one? “What do you mean, honey?” I was hoping by asking a clarifying question it would steer us away from this one and maybe to the heart of her matter which I desperately hoped was a question I could answer.
“Suzie told me that me being in love is impossible and not real because it’s not a relationship. She said just loving someone else doesn’t count as love. It’s only real if the other person loves you back.”
“Well, what does Suzie say it is then, if it’s not love?”
“She said it’s made up.”
“Made up? Like fake love, or something?”
“Yeah, I guess. She actually never said what it is, just that it’s not real love.”
“So, you love someone, but he doesn’t know it? So, Suzie says what you feel for him isn’t real?”
After a slight pause came an embarrassed, “Yes.”
Her tears had stopped and she was sipping some juice. I stood up and started washing potatoes again. She came over and stood by me at the sink. “So what is it then?” she asked me.
“I think if you take a look at this from different angles you’ll get different answers.”
“What do you mean?” she asked before I could continue.
“Well, if you look at it scientifically, some would say it’s a chemical reaction between your girl chemicals and his boy chemicals. Almost a reflex that you can’t help. That’s not love in the sense of commitment and relationship, as much as it is passion in the sense of attraction at the cellular level.” We then moved on to cleaning the veggies for the salad. We both had our hands in the sink with the water running. She had learned so fast just from watching me the last few months. “Then a psychiatrist might say this has to do with your unmet needs from other men in your life. There is something that your Father and brothers aren’t giving you that this boy does. You feel a certain way when you are around him because this need is met, and then you want to be around him more and more. This again is not love in the sense of a relationship as much as it is love in the sense of how you feel when you are with him; what he gives you.”
I could tell she was fascinated because she hadn’t said a word and kept her hands busy. “Then a doctor might say it’s because you're twelve going on thirteen and the biochemical changes in your body right now are signaling you to begin to experience the need for and attraction to sex. Although your brain doesn’t necessarily tell your body that is what it wants, the attraction you are having to this boy is because your brain and clock have woken up and now are starting to shop for sex.” She giggled at this a bit and blushed. Still not a word. “Then the sociologist might say something similar to all of these, but more on the slant of you now awakening to the season of your life of choosing a life-long mate. You need to begin selecting and experiencing different choices so in a few years you can make a final decision.” She sat back at the table as I fin
ished up over the stove top.
She finally said, “So, do you think it’s love if it’s only one way?”
“What do you think,” I asked her.
“I don’t know. That’s why I keep asking you.” The impatient brat in her was coming out just a bit.
“I think it’s interesting that you want to know what it is. Most people would not torment themselves over is it or is it not love, Beth. Why do you care so much what it is that you’re feeling? Why is this so important for you to label it?” I finally called her on what I knew she didn’t want to talk about. Her Father. Her Mother.
“What? It’s not normal to want to know if it’s love?”
“Don’t worry about normal and not normal,” I told her. “Why do you want to know if it’s love?” She began to cry again. I turned the burners off and came to the table. “It’s okay,” I told her over and over as she wept into my shoulder.
Through jags of tears she finally got out, “I want to know what love is. So, I thought maybe I finally know with what I’m feeling for this guy. I just want to know what love is.”
“Okay, Beth. I understand. It’s alright, honey.” I held her for a while and shooed the others out of the kitchen periodically with waves and winks when they tried to come in.
When she calmed a bit I told her, “Love is action, Beth. Love is patient; love is kind; it doesn’t envy; it doesn’t brag; it’s not proud; it’s not rude; it’s not self-seeking; it’s not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs; it doesn’t delight in evil but rejoices with the truth; it always protects, always trusts; always hopes; always perseveres; and it never fails.” I stroked her hair and continued, “Your mother showed you love before she died, didn’t she?” Beth nodded. “Your Father has disappointed you lately, I know. But he is loving you in his way. He is supporting this family while grieving the death of the woman he loved. Beth, people fail us all the time, but love never fails. Cut him some slack right now, okay? He does love you and you don’t have to look outside these walls to find what love is.”
“So it does have to go both ways to be real, doesn’t it?”
“Beth, you can still love your mother without her being here. That is very real.” She wiped her eyes and gave me an exhausted hug. I almost fell into her as well, suddenly realizing I was quite drained. She seemed like she was winding down, so I moved on, “Are you hungry enough to eat something,” I asked her.
“Sure. Maybe a little bit.”
“Okay, tell everyone to wash up and come on in.”
“Thank you so much for making time to talk with me, Ted, when you’re so busy and everything,” I flattered as I sat down in his office across from him at his desk.
“Of course, Patty, what . . . what is it . . . I mean, you, you know . . . you said something about Beth and Clara was . . . important . . . urgent?”
“Beth has voiced over the last few months in different ways that she is really missing you. I thought I’d bring it to your attention since she seems to be especially needing attention from you lately. I thought for sure if you knew this, you would of course do something about it. So, now you know.” Was that the right tact to take?
Waiting a few seconds for the reply. “Yes, of course. Thank you . . . for letting me know. And . . . Clara?”
Okay. That went fairly well. “Clara’s heart condition is getting more serious. Her symptoms are getting more serious. The school nurse sent a note home the day before yesterday and after talking to the doctors again, they’ve scheduled more tests for her next week at Children’s Hospital. How much of the details do you want to know right now?”
His face was shattered, instantly tightened with bunches of skin at each tension point. His shoulders sank and rounded and we lost eye contact.
“I know this is hard to face after Emily, but I felt I had to check in with you before proceeding. If for no other reason, I have no legal rights for her care, so you’ll need to come with . . . ”
Ted looked back into my eyes and interrupted, “Yes. Of course. You’re so right about coming to me with this. I . . . I’ll get something . . . written up immediately . . . that . . . gives you legal authority to . . . to . . . sign documents and make decisions . . . for the kids. I hadn’t . . . thought of that . . . before. What if . . . well . . . a car wreck or something . . . ” His voice trailed off.
I wondered if he didn’t finish the sentence because he wondered if it had struck a nerve for me. Instead of addressing that, I just continued, “That’s not what I meant, actually. I meant that you should be involved. Come with us. Let me tell you a bit of what is going on and then you’ll be up to speed so . . . ”
His eyes came back to me once again, “Oh no, Patty. That’s not . . . necessary. You know I trust you . . . completely.”
I gave up and just sat there. He said nothing. I said nothing.
Finally he asked, “Is . . . she . . . in pain?”
“Sometimes, yes she is. For lack of sufficient oxygen flow her joints hurt. She also is short of breath and gets dizzy and has chest pain, so there is a heavy feeling that is uncomfortable there.” I didn’t go on because his body language told me he had already checked out.
“Thank you, Patty,” he eventually said after a period of silence, as he offered me his hand across the table, rising to instigate the end. I shook his hand and said nothing. His detachment to reality was chilling.
I was sad and angry as I walked out of his office. I fantasized about taking him in my arms like I did Beth and making it all better. I also fantasized about screaming at him and shaking him silly until he returned to his kids’ lives again. Instead I walked through his office door and shut it behind me at his request.
Chapter Four
“No means no. I was very clear. If I wasn’t clear, then maybe you would have an argument. But I said no and you heard me, so that’s it,” I sternly told Hector as he had this totally shocked looked on his face. He just couldn’t believe I was being so strict.
“You can’t be serious,” defiance said, testing the limits.
“Hector, I really am sorry. I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish you could go, but I told you you had to come home right after practice and you didn’t.” As he tried to interrupt I put my hand up and continued, “And not only that, but you even called and asked me if you could go to Reggie’s and I reminded you of our original agreement and told you no again.” At this point he closed his mouth and didn’t try to interrupt anymore. “And you still made the wrong choice.” It was sinking in that I wasn’t wavering. His body language had totally shifted from offense to surrender. “You’re stuck with me Saturday. You can hear about the birthday party on Monday from everybody else,” I finished and put my arm around him as he sunk in a little bit at my waist. So independent, but still so much wants to be comforted and told it’ll be okay, even by the one inflicting the wrath.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
“I forgive you, Hector. Now tell Clara to come on in so I can start dinner.”
“Hi, honey,” I said while unpacking a few bags on the counter, separating what I needed for dinner and what needed to be put away. “How was your day? How are you feeling?”
“I’m ok. Some of the kids were totally immature, though. Other than that, it was fine.”
I looked into a bowl of cornmeal, egg, and milk while hoping with all my might that what she just said did not mean they were mean to her again. “Oh . . . uh, huh,” I neutrally answered at first. She began to draw with her new colored pencils. “Animal or person?” I asked.
“Person,” she answered without looking up.
“Honey, what did you mean that people were immature? Did the heart monitor not go over very well?” I fished.
She finally quietly answered, “They were calling me Robot and Metal Woman and stuff.”
“Did you try to explain to them what the monitor is for?” I asked her, as anger and sympathy were steadily fighting for prominence within me.
“I didn’t muc
h see the point. It’s not like they even listen, you know? The more I talk the more they just make fun and look at each other and listen to each other, not to me.” She switched pencils and kept drawing.
“Sorry, honey. It’s only for two days, though. It’ll help them see if something is off. Do you think it recorded anything today? Did you feel any palpitations or anything?”
“Of course I did. All the time. I don’t know if it was ‘nough though.”
“Right, honey. That’s fine. You just don’t worry about it and let the monitor do its thing. Only one more day and then you won’t have that thing strapped to your chest and belt.”
“Yeah,” she said back.
“You have to admit, though, that it’s pretty amazing what they can do nowadays, you know?”
“Yeah, it is pretty cool.”
“Speaking of which, before dinner we should call in a recording so you’ll have enough space on it for the night. Lemme finish putting this fish together and get it in the oven and then we’ll call. Okay?”
“Okay,” she amicably agreed, “I’ll get it ready.”
“So, what you really mean is that you don’t know what’s wrong with her,” I told the cardiologist.
“No, that’s not what I am saying. What I am saying is that there are several possibilities and that since she is seven and growing a lot right now, it’s best for us to just watch her for a while and see what she grows out of and what is a condition that we should address. Some of her symptoms are very common in little girls, like mitral valve prolapse, arrhythmia, and could be outgrown within a few years.”
“Yeah, but everything I’ve read indicates that her symptoms are too severe to be explained by the mitral valve prolapse and an irregular heart beat,” I quickly pointed out in hopes that it would trigger him to come up with a new game plan.
“Right now, I don’t see anything that needs further testing. You could, however, put her in counseling and see if any of it is psychosomatic from her mother’s death. Stress can produce a myriad of problems for the body.”
