“Don’t get your feet wet!” I call, but Michael pointedly ignores me, then tugs the girl’s sleeve and points further up the shoreline, and she nods. They both trot down the dark brown packed sand, out of ear range.
The mom—Kelsie—laughs. “He’s been so sweet to her. We meet Michael and Shai here sometimes.”
It clicks into place. So this is the Anna that Michael talks about. Her mom is Kelsie. I remember Shai speaking of these names. I feel bad that I never insisted that they come over for dinner or something. Meet up. All of us. But I didn’t know. And now, that won’t work.
I shadow my eyes with a flat hand to peer into the gray toward them. “I’m impressed that my son is playing so nicely lately. He’s had, well, he’s had a tough time.”
“I know. But Shai is wonderful with him. You know, at first, I thought she was his mom.”
My heart squeezes and it hurts so much that my breath catches in my throat. “She’s not anything. I mean, ah, working with him anymore.” My voice comes out harsh.
She sounds incredulous. “She didn’t tell me. How long has this been?” She frowns.
“A week or two.”
“She quit?”
“Well, no.”
“Then, what? You fired her?” At my expression, her eyes narrow. “Seriously?”
“It’s a complicated situation. It’s not appropriate to get into it.” My voice sounds petulant.
“Oh, God. I have to call her. I had no idea. I thought she was just really busy.” Kelsie crosses her arms. “Why did you fire her?” Her face is fierce.
I shake my head and say, “It’s personal. But she said he was ready to be done. So the therapy part is finished. And I, I need to spend more time with him. This is what he needs right now.”
“Oookay.” Her voice says it’s not, an echo of what my heart already knows.
“I tried to call her.” I can hear the guilt and anguish in my voice. “She’s not picking up.”
“Why should she?” Her voice is bleak.
It’s not meant to be answered, so I don’t.
Kelsie looks back to the kids, and we drift closer in their wake, not wanting to let them get too far out of grabbing distance. It’s a lake, after all, a cold mass of death just waiting to capture our loved ones, and the two of us have ample experience with masses and sudden loss.
We come closer and the wind picks up suddenly and deposits their words at our feet.
Anna: “I’m scared, Michael. I’m so scared. I have to go in for my MRI tomorrow. What if the cancer is back?”
Michael: “It won’t be. I know it.”
Anna: “Nobody can know that. Cancer is mean and silent and tricky. It makes you think everything is okay and then it gets you. It’s a monster under the bed, one that your mom can’t see and doesn’t even know is there, but it’s going to get you when you go to sleep.”
Michael: (longish pause). “Maybe you should ask the fairies for a sign, Anna. You know, maybe a helpful thing to hold onto while you’re there. Just to help you be braver.”
Anna: “I’m starting to think they’re not real. Nothing is real anymore. Just cancer. Stupid, dumb cancer and thinking about cancer and worrying about cancer. That’s real, Michael.”
I start. What the hell? I look at Kelsie for clarification, about the fairies, the MRI, all of it. She has tears in her eyes as she stares at her daughter, and I know that feeling. If you could, you’d take the pain away, all of it. You’d take the cancer yourself, you’d eat it up, you’d embrace it, rub it all over your body if you could just get it away from your kid. But you can’t. You have to watch your kid drown in front of your face and make eye contact as they go under.
She talks without looking at me. “When we first came here and met up with Shai and Michael, Anna talked about the fairies, about how they’re real, about how they help her cope with being scared about cancer. I don’t know, Gabriel. I might be making the biggest mistake in the world by letting her believe in that. But what does it hurt, you know? Some people have God. Is it so bad if she has fairies? I don’t even know if she’ll be here in a year. Why can’t I give her the joy of believing in something magical?”
I shake my head. I’m not judging. I’m the last one who should judge.
“Michael started to say they’re fake and stupid, but then Shai talked to him. And he changed and told her he was sorry and he’d only said it because he was jealous. Then he dropped a penny in the sand when she wasn’t looking and told her that the fairies leave a coin when they find a special kid. When she saw that penny, she was so happy. I mean, beside herself. That is one nice boy you have there, Gabriel.”
She wipes her eyes. Mine feel wet.
Down the beach, Anna is sitting down, looking at the water, her arms clutched around her knees. She’s lumpy in her puffy pants and jacket but she looks so small. I see Michael take off his mitten and reach into his pocket. I can’t see what he’s doing, or what he has, but whatever he’s holding, he tosses it a few feet away, into the higher sand. Then he sits beside Anna and they talk. We can’t hear it now because the wind has turned, but it seems earnest.
When they get up, Michael seems to be steering them to the path where he dropped the whatever. He bumps into Anna and drops his mitten, and she looks down to pick it up, and suddenly her whole body comes alive. She reaches down and picks something up, examines it, and then she flies back to us. She’s laughing and her face is radiant, full of joy.
“Mama!” she screams. “Mama! I found something! I found a treasure! I found a fairy treasure!”
Michael trudges behind, a little smile on his face.
“Mama!” She’s quivery with excitement. “Look!” Her voice is reverent as she holds out her hand. In it is a silver chain and a locket, and I practically jump out of my skin. It’s Shai’s locket. The one she always wore. The one she never let me see inside. How the hell—?
I meet Michael’s eyes and the look in his floors me. His gaze is a plea, a warning, and a reprimand, all at once. For this second, he’s the adult and I’m the kid, struggling to keep up. I think Kelsie recognizes it, too, because she jerks her head and frowns at Michael. “What?”
He shakes his head. “It’s a fairy treasure, Mrs. Martin. Anna found it when I dropped my mitten. It’s going to help her be brave tomorrow at her MRI. I mean, fairies can’t make us healthy again, but I guess they can remind us to be brave and do the best we can.”
“Mama, can I please keep it? Can I please keep it? It’s mine now, right?”
Kelsie looks at me and I nod slowly, so she nods, too. “Of course you can, sweetie.”
Anna’s voice is happy. “Put it on me, Mama. No, open it first. No, put it on me then open it. Maybe there’s a message inside! Is there a message? Oh. It’s empty.”
But then her voice brightens. “It means I can write my own message to myself. Mama, at home can you help me make a tiny note to fit in there? It’s going to say, Anna, everything will be okay. And I will remember it when I get scared. We will use that pink paper. I will put some glitter glue. But we won’t close the locket until it dries full.”
Anna races back up the beach. “Michael! Let’s get that string and pretend we’re fishing.”
Kelsie bends down and puts both hands on his cheeks. “Michael. You are a treasure. Thank you.”
He nods. “You’re welcome.” He turns and runs after Anna.
Kelsie is silent. “So Shai gave that to Michael?”
There are so many things I don’t know about my son. “I guess so. I didn’t know.”
Kelsie is silent. “That meant a lot to her. I mean, she never took it off since her sister, you know.”
I start to get a weird feeling. “She doesn’t have a sister.”
Kelsie frowns at me. A ‘duh’ look on her face. “Yes, she does. She did, I mean. Since she died.”
“She has a sister who died?” My voice is incredulous.
“You don’t know this?” Her tone matches mine. “How ca
n you not know this?”
“She never talked about her family. She didn’t want to talk about her past at all.” I grab Kelsie’s tweed sleeve. “Tell me.”
Kelsie pulls her sleeve away and gives me a pointed look. “Gabriel. This is personal stuff. If you want to know about it, you need to talk to her.” But something in my face must soften her, because she adds, “Her twin. How can you not know this? How long did she work for you? How long was she with you?” She is accusing, angry, disappointed. I know, now, that she knows about my personal relationship with Shai. I can hear it in her tone.
“Her twin?” I feel sick. “Shai had a twin? I never knew. She never told me.”
“Well, it’s not something you just blurt out. Although I guess I just did it for her.”
“When did her sister die?” I need to know. “Why?”
I don’t know why, but she tells me. Maybe it’s the look of flat-out need on my face. She says, “When they were twelve. Ovarian teratoma. Shai came through the operation fine, even though they had to take both of her… but it doesn’t matter what they had to remove, because thank God hers wasn’t carcinogenic. Unfortunately, Mani, well, it was worse for her. Hers was malignant. They didn’t get all of it, and it spread, and she died. It sounded pretty awful.”
“Do you mean, that they took both of her ovaries?” My heart is racing and I feel like I need to vomit. I’m sorry about Mani, but the only one I care about right now is Shai. “Kelsie?”
She glares at me and shakes her head. “Gabriel, I’ve said too much already. It’s not my place. If you want to know about her, there’s one way to do it, and that’s to talk to her.” She narrows her eyes. “If you’re worthy of her, that is… and I’m not sure you are.” Then she snaps, “But obviously, yes. I mean, it’s not called an ovarian teratoma for nothing, Gabriel.”
She looks like she wants to kill me. “I would like to punch you in the mouth,” she announces, “but I won’t. And it’s only because you have an amazing son.” She steps closer. “You need to fix yourself. You’re more broken than he is, or than Shai ever was. It’s not fair to pull other people down with your own sinking ship.”
The kids come back, faces happy, no MRIs looming—for the moment they are free. “Can we go to McDonald’s together?” warbles Anna. “Please?”
Kelsie answers, “Yes, of course.”
And although there is nothing I would prefer to do less than spend more alone time with this woman who despises me, I will do anything for my son. And she for her daughter. And so we end up sitting side by side on child-size stools, checking our phones in an uncomfortable tension, as Michael and Anna make a log cabin with fries and nuggets, and take turns letting the filthy damp string they found (one of them clearly put it into their pocket) go down the shiny yellow slide.
All I can see is my mind is Shai’s face holding that stupid white stick, the strange noise she made when I accused her. The way she crumpled down and held that stick to her stomach, wailing and sobbing like someone had died. The way she held her head, forlorn and lost.
I’m a fucking idiot. I took the one woman in the world who loved me, who meant something special to my son and to me, and I broke her. I broke her deliberately, with intention, and with malice. I did it without pity. I knew in my heart that she’s not the kind of person who would lie about being pregnant. And I never wanted to be the kind of person who treats someone differently because they were sick.
I don’t know why I lashed out. Maybe I was afraid. Maybe I needed to push her away first, before she left me. Because that would hurt less. People leave me; it’s a fact. I’m not the kind of person who is lucky with family and lucky with love. Thank God I still have my son, and that’s in jeopardy.
She never told me she couldn’t have kids. I guess after being accused in such a way, it didn’t matter to her that I know the truth. I believed the worst of her, and she made a clean break. I’m an idiot who didn’t see the truth in front of my face, and I don’t deserve any of her truth.
The thing is that I love her. Now that she’s gone, I see it so clearly. Now that it’s too late, I want to have everything she offered. How could I have been so stupid? I’m the sick one, the broken one, the one missing critical body parts (like a heart)—Kelsie’s right. I’m the one who’s going down and flailing, pulling everyone into my own sick whirlpool.
But if it’s not too late, I want to fix this. I don’t know if there’s any way to get Shai to forgive me, but I need to try. I need to let her know how sorry I am, and that I’d do anything in the world to make it up to her. I need to grovel and apologize and prostrate myself. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it.
I open the door. “Hi.”
Kelsie doesn’t hesitate. “Why didn’t you tell me that you stopped working with Michael? What happened? Why didn’t you call?”
I shake my head, and she wraps her arms around me. “Shai, you need to call me when you’re in trouble! That’s what friends are for.”
“I was having a rough time, and I needed to be alone to make some important decisions. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t want to burden you, either. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for me.” She tugs me to the couch and shrugs off her coat. “I’m just thinking about you, not talking about it for so long. What the hell went on?”
“Gabriel.” I bite my lip and cross my leg, jiggling my foot. “I told him I loved him, and he accused me of pretending to be pregnant to manipulate him.”
Her face is horrified. “Why would he even think that?”
I take a deep breath. “Because… Kelsie, there was a pregnancy stick in his room, and he thought it was mine. I think Arielle put it there, but it doesn’t matter, because he thought I did. It freaked me out so bad that I couldn’t tell him at first. And then, when I got my voice back, I didn’t want to tell him. If he could actually think something like that about me? Then it’s a lost cause. It doesn’t matter what the truth is, because how can I be with a person who has a fundamental lack of trust in me?”
Kelsie grabs my hand and squeezes. “Oh, my God. I can’t even.” Then she furrows her brow. “What do you mean, Arielle put it there?”
“She was in his house. She still has a key, and I think she left it on purpose to mess with me. With him. And it worked. But it’s not even her fault, you know? It’s his, for believing that.”
“What a fucking bitch. And he’s a pure piece of shit.” Kelsie puts her arms around me. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It broke me apart. He never wants to see me again.” I start to cry, then compose myself to get out the story. “Michael was ready to be done with therapy. We were on our last session. So I was able to disconnect without it affecting Michael, except he got sad and upset. I miss him. Both of them, badly, even though I’m so sad and mad. And then my job… well, things aren’t good on that front. Allison.”
“Allison?” Her voice holds caution. “What did she do?”
I shake my head. “She said I’d gone against professional ethics. She removed me as team leader, and won’t put me back until I complete a refresher course on patient/client relationship basics. And maybe not even then.”
“Was she mad because Gabriel fired you?”
“She said that I’d already compromised the situation—that Gabriel and I both did, of course, but she holds me responsible as a therapist, to higher standards.”
“I’m so sorry, Shai. I don’t know what to say.”
I wipe my eyes. “I feel like such a loser.” The sun sends spindly rays through my window, tentative touches of gold that are washed out on my wood floor.
“You’re not a loser! God, Shai. You’re one of the most wonderful, kind, talented people I know. You’re struggling right now. But you’re not a loser.”
I sniffle and lean into her arms, needing the comfort.
Kelsie pats my shoulder. “So what did Gabriel say to her?”
“I don’t know for sure, but apparently good things.” I shrug
. “Allison said he said I’d helped Michael when nobody else could, and everything I did was for the benefit of Michael. He told her I was a great therapist, regardless of what happened between us personally. He donated to her program because he thinks therapy can help other kids, too. He gave a million dollars, Kelsie!”
Her eyes go wide. “Seriously? He has that kind of cash?”
“I guess so.” I wipe my nose.
“So, I mean, if he said all that, why did she find out about… the other stuff?”
“I told her. I felt bad for keeping it a secret. It was making me sick. And I knew it was the wrong thing from a work perspective. I wanted to get it out in the open, you know? When she found out we slept together, the look on her face. She went really still.”
Kelsie looks worried. “I guess that’s not a good thing.”
I hug a pillow to my chest as if it will muffle the pain. “Allison told me that she should fire me, and that she has every right to, and the only reason she’s not is because of how well Michael is doing and because I’d never done anything like this before and because I’m her best therapist ever. But I’m… totally demoted.”
“Did she make you, uh, stop seeing patients?”
“Yes, for now. I need to transition them to another therapist in the group. I’m not allowed to accept new ones until I pass a probation period. LaShonda is team leader now. And Allison is making me talk to her three times a week about my boundaries with each family I’m still seeing while I transition them to a new therapist. It’s… demeaning. Childish. I hate it.”
I hesitate. “She also says that if I want to stay employed there, I need to start therapy for myself. With another professional. Not someone on our team, of course, and what I talk about is confidential. But she was adamant.”
“I don’t think that’s a bad idea.” Kelsie leans forward, her face sympathetic. “You’ve got a lot of shit to deal with, Shai. Not just about Gabriel and Michael, but your past, too. Your sister. I think it’s a great idea, actually. Allison sounds like she’s on your side.”
A Handful of Fire Page 21
