Just 18 Summers

by Rene Gutteridge

  “Our neighbor.”

  “Seems like a nice guy.” He handed the clipboard back to Larry. “Just sign here.”

  As Larry signed, Nathan gave Beth a forlorn look. She smiled at him, and they had a funny, private moment where they both understood each other. Why couldn’t it be this easy with Robin?

  Chip and Larry hurried toward the garage, chatting about tools and parts and nothing Beth understood. Larry punched his hands in the air and waved at Nathan to join them.

  Nathan stretched a smile across his face. “How long is Dad’s vacation again?”

  She swatted him on the back, and he hopped off the porch to join them in the garage.

  Beth leaned against the post, gazing over the fence, realizing she’d just witnessed a minor miracle—the Buckleys showing some kindness and compassion. But she couldn’t help wondering where her miracle was. Larry got all the breaks.

  Beth, apparently, got the breakups.

  She walked inside, grabbed her purse and car keys. The table, spread from one side to the other with food, sat empty. Nobody had even finished their meal.

  When she came outside, Larry looked up. They’d already popped the hood. “Where you going?”

  “Out. Just an errand. Milk. Butter.”

  “You’re in your pajamas.”

  “These are sweats.”

  “You slept in them.”

  “I sleep in sweats sometimes.”

  Larry stood fully, facing her. “Your shirt says good night on it.”

  “I’ll be back. Just out of stuff.” She got in her car and backed up, waving enthusiastically and pitching her thumb up as she drove away. Honk, honk. Happy, happy. Fun, fun.

  As soon as she got out of sight, she cried so hard she could barely see the road.

  CHAPTER 38

  BUTCH

  ONSTAGE, AVA SAT PROPERLY, and Butch marveled at that because not once in their lives together had he ever shown her how to sit straight and cross her legs at the ankles. Her hands were folded gently on top of the purple flowered dress that she’d picked out in a frantic rush to the mall last night when she realized she had “nothing to wear for a spelling bee! I can’t wear jeans! I can’t wear shorts!” Butch had managed to calm them both down and get them to the mall fifteen minutes before it closed.

  Jenny must’ve taught her how to sit. As he shifted in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs set out for the parents, he wondered what kinds of things Ava would miss out on learning from him. It would never, ever have occurred to him to teach her the proper way to sit. It seemed that if she hadn’t learned it before the age of eight, there would be no hope for her to learn it now. Maybe, he thought, he could ask Beth to help with those things. Beth, from all he could tell, was a great mom to her kids. They adored her, and if he had to admit it, that’s all he wanted in life—for that little girl in the purple dress to adore him, even when he was old and worthless.

  While Ava glanced away, waiting for her next turn, Butch sneaked a peek at his watch. The guys were probably wondering where he was. He hadn’t figured a summer spelling bee at the library would be such a big event. He figured a few kids would show up, but he counted fifty to start with. Now they were down to three, including Beth’s neighbor’s kid, the one Tippy was supposed to go build a kite for.

  “Playful,” the judge said.

  “P-l-a-y-f-u-l. Playful,” Cory said.

  The crowd clapped politely. Butch felt uncomfortable making any noise at all. It was the library spelling bee—there might be special rules in place.

  The other girl stood and spelled clever.

  This went on until Butch realized that Ava was one of the last two standing. The other was Cory. Butch glanced around to find the Buckleys. Helen wasn’t hard to spot. She sat near the front, clapping what he could only assume was the correct clap for the circumstance as Cory neared the microphone. But the dad wasn’t there.

  Ava’s face was hard and determined, and suddenly Butch realized how much this meant to her. His heart caught in his throat when he pictured her disappointment if she lost. He realized why she’d been working so hard and why the guys at the site had been helping her.

  Cory clasped his hands behind his back. “R-e-c-y-c-l-e. Recycle.”

  “Correct,” the judge said.

  Ava walked to the microphone. Normally she was so sure of herself, but now she looked timid. She had to strain to put her mouth by the microphone.

  “Preview,” the judge said.

  “Preview,” Ava repeated. She took a deep breath. Then another. Her attention moved to the back of the room, and instantly she stood up straighter. She unclenched her fists. She even smiled. Butch wondered if she was imagining her mom back there. He was about to turn around to see what she was looking at when her gaze shifted to him. She smiled and blinked, and he held up his hand in a fist, showing her she could be strong. She nodded resolutely, and he was astounded at their moment. They’d had a moment. He knew she could do this.

  “P-r-e-v-i-e-w. Preview.”

  “Correct.”

  Butch was about to mimic Helen’s clap when all of a sudden a huge, rushing, boisterous wave of applause roared past him, causing everyone, including him, to turn around.

  In the very back stood all his guys, covered in sawdust and dirt and still dripping sweat. They were clapping and cheering and chanting Ava’s name like it was NASCAR. Butch grinned and turned back, joining their cheer, much to the surprise of the judges, the other parents, and most of all Helen.

  Cory stepped up next.

  “Invisible,” the judge said.

  Cory looked away from his mom toward the back, where the guys stood, seemingly wishful that he might get a whoop and a holler. But all was still and silent. His chest rose and fell, and behind him Ava bit her nails.

  “Invisible. I-n . . .” He paused, doubting. “. . . v-i-s-i-b-l-e. Invisible.”

  “Correct.”

  The room was silent but for airy clapping as Cory sat down. Butch kind of felt bad for the kid. Maybe somebody would whistle for him. But it stayed quiet.

  Ava approached.

  “Unbelievable,” the judge said.

  Butch watched panic seize Ava’s small face. Her fingers twitched as they hung by her sides. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  Butch tried smiling and nodding in encouragement, trying to convey the message Do your best with the other message It’s not the end of the world if you lose. He wasn’t sure any of that was coming through, but Ava kept her eyes on him nevertheless.

  “Unbelievable. U-n-b-e-l-i-e-v-e-a-b-l-e. Unbelievable.”

  Behind him, Ava’s cheering section erupted in applause.

  But the judge’s voice reverberated over it all. “Incorrect.”

  The room settled into an awkward silence. Butch watched as Ava stepped away from the microphone and graciously smiled at Cory. She was such a class act, just like her mom.

  The spelling bee ended with Cory accepting a large trophy.

  Ava stepped offstage and ran to Butch. She gazed up at his face. Sure enough, her expression was filled with the kind of disappointment that he’d never wanted her to have to handle.

  “You did great,” Butch said, pulling her into a hug.

  Soon the whole lot of guys had gathered around.

  Ava looked at all of them. “I’m sorry. I feel like I let you guys down.”

  “Forget that!” Tippy said.

  “You were amazing!” Eddie said.

  Jack agreed. “Smarter than me, I’ll tell you that.”

  Ava smiled, but her attention had drifted to Cory, who was onstage holding his trophy, smiling dutifully for the camera. “Look how big that trophy is,” she said.

  Butch knelt by her side and took her hand. “That big trophy would be very cool. I get that. But what matters to me is what kind of person you are, and you’re an awesome person. The best I know. I’m proud to know you, and I’m really proud of you.”

  Across that tiny face
spread the biggest smile he’d ever seen on a little girl.

  Butch shook hands with the guys and thanked them for coming. “Take the rest of the day off,” he told them.

  They looked bewildered.

  “Really?” Jack asked. “Time is money, you always say. We used our break to come, but we can get back pretty quickly.”

  “No. It’s fine. I promise.”

  Ava grinned. “Told you he’s a good boss,” she said and high-fived them all.

  Today he felt like a good boss. And a good dad, too.

  CHAPTER 39

  BETH

  DR. REYNOLDS SMILED as he opened his office door. His mustache, as always, cleverly hid his real expression, but nevertheless it stared her down like a cat on a windowsill.

  Very lightly and slowly, Beth sat on the couch. She didn’t want to make any sudden moves or seem like she was capable of another episode.

  “I brought you this,” she said, handing him a yellow paper sack with tissue paper stuffed in the top.

  “Oh . . . you didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. But I wanted you to remember me by something other than . . . the other day.”

  Dr. Reynolds pulled out the tissue paper and reached in, his hand emerging with a yellow mug. Its handle was a mustache. He laughed.

  “Read the other side,” Beth said.

  He turned it around. “‘I mustache you a question, but I’ll shave it for later.’” He grinned. She could actually see his teeth. They were nice and white. “Clever.” He stood and placed the mug on the shelf with all the others.

  “I want you to remember me for that mug and not for a mug shot,” she laughed.

  Dr. Reynolds cleared his throat. “You’re planning on going to jail for something?”

  Beth sighed. “Sorry, poorly timed joke. No. I’m just . . . distraught.”

  “About your daughter. Robin, right?”

  “She’s going to marry this boy. In a matter of days. And now I wonder if she’s doing it just to spite me.”

  “I learned something recently that I would like to share with you,” Dr. Reynolds said.

  “Sure.”

  “It’s been hectic around here. Typically I have a nice flow of clients in and out, but lately I’ve had an influx of people, and many of them are having similar problems—parenting problems. An unlikely food source showed me something significant. You see, I was very stressed because I’d been focusing on my work so much and wondering if I could keep up the pace that I was suddenly thrown into. And then one night two clients brought hot wings during their session. Not for me. But it was a true gift. It made me realize something.”

  Beth was trying desperately to follow. Now that he mentioned it, she did think she could detect the faintest smell of hot sauce . . .

  “I realized that I needed something outside work. Something to look forward to, if you will. Something that had nothing to do with anything or anyone here. So now I’ve decided that once a week I am going to treat myself to hot wings.”

  Beth nodded, trying to glean clues from his mustache. Was he saying she should start eating hot wings?

  He smiled gently at her. “Let me put it another way. Sometimes we get absorbed in things, and it’s hard for us to step back. And we can’t help but be absorbed by our children. It’s what we do. But as they grow and leave the nest, we have to realize that our lives can no longer be consumed by them. Your children are grown people now, and you have done all you can to help them make the right choices. Be assured they won’t always. But in the meantime, as you begin to watch from a distance, find something to do with your life. Find something that’s separate from your kids, a gift God has given you that you can enjoy using.”

  “I scrapbook. I have a whole group of ladies I scrapbook with.”

  Something strange flickered across his face, but it was gone in a flash. “That’s good. Definitely a start. But I imagine you’re scrapbooking using pictures of your family. I’m talking something totally different.”

  “Hot wing different.”

  Dr. Reynolds chuckled. “I’m not advocating using food to replace your children. But for me, I realized that I don’t take time for myself. So now I go have hot wings and watch sports once a week, and it’s nice.”

  Beth looked at her hands, folded limply on her lap. That familiar sadness, the emptiness that ballooned in her heart, kept her from talking for what seemed like forever. Dr. Reynolds waited patiently, and finally she looked up.

  “Every day, her whole life, I prayed for her before she left the house. For all my children. But I started the tradition with Robin. It seemed inadequate at times but always necessary. I guess I knew, deep down inside, that I couldn’t be responsible for another human being all by myself. I knew I needed God’s help. And He has helped us. He’s been there in so many moments. But somehow, in all those prayers I tossed up in the morning—launched at Him, really, like my boys throw rolls across the table—I never imagined it would come to this. Robin marrying a man named Marvin who will probably never be able to fully support her.”

  “Does Robin want to be fully supported?”

  Beth shrugged. “I guess I wanted a more secure future for her. There are enough troubles in life without having to worry so much about money.”

  “Securing futures causes half the trouble in our lives,” Dr. Reynolds said with a smile.

  Beth nodded, though she didn’t want to believe it. “I think I’ve done some damage,” she said quietly, “by pushing the idea that she wasn’t ready for marriage because she couldn’t make an omelet, when all along what I really wanted to say was that she wasn’t ready for marriage, period. She’s not. She hasn’t lived. She doesn’t know what’s out there.” She started to cry despite her best intentions not to. “What if she gets a divorce? What if she hates her marriage and is so miserable she can’t even eat pizza anymore?”

  Dr. Reynolds set his pad of paper aside and leaned forward. For the first time, Beth was drawn to his eyes, not his mustache.

  “Beth, can I ask you a personal question?”

  Beth clutched the pillow she’d grabbed just moments before. “That’s kind of your job, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. But it’s a very personal question.”

  “Oh. Well, okay.”

  “What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever been through?”

  “This.”

  “No . . . this is not.”

  “Jenny dying.”

  “Look further back. What was the hardest time in your past? Something you didn’t think you’d make it through?”

  Beth sat there, twisting the edge of the pillow, trying to remember. When did she have time to think about her own life? She was too busy thinking about all of theirs, worrying about all of theirs.

  “I . . . I don’t know . . .”

  “You’ve sort of lost yourself, haven’t you?”

  Beth nodded.

  “But think about it. What was it?”

  Beth took a long breath. Deep inside she knew. It had taken a piece of her. It was a part of her life that she couldn’t shake. Not really. Not ever. “When Larry and I were first married, about six months into it, I got pregnant. At first I was devastated. I had plans for my life, and they didn’t include getting pregnant that early. I was going for my real estate license, and I had to put that on hold.”

  Dr. Reynolds picked up his notebook again.

  “That’s not the hard part.” Beth swiped her nose with her hand. “As the weeks passed and I could feel the baby growing in me, I got more and more excited. We started planning the nursery. I was buying maternity clothes. It was so fun and amazing.”

  Dr. Reynolds nodded, still taking notes.

  “At five months, I began bleeding. By that evening—it was a Tuesday—I had miscarried. Our daughter was stillborn.” Beth hardly realized it, but she was trembling as she thought of that day. They’d wrapped her baby up, bundled her just like she was a healthy, thriving newborn girl, and let Beth hold her for a
little bit. She’d been beautiful. It was obvious she had Larry’s nose and Beth’s chin. A photographer came in and took pictures.

  “That’s a horrible thing to have to go through,” Dr. Reynolds said. A moment settled between them. Beth didn’t know what kind of moment, but it felt peaceful. Then he asked, “So what do you think that did for your life? What kind of mark did it leave, good or bad?”

  Beth stopped twisting the pillow. She was going to twist the corner right off if she didn’t stop. “About a year later, I got pregnant again. With Robin. And I was fearful, sure. But we made it through, and I remember thinking that I would never take for granted a single moment of motherhood. I really tried, you know? I was always thankful for my kids, even if I got sidetracked by unimportant things.” Her eyes filled again. “I got so sidetracked . . . so often. Stupid things that I see now didn’t matter.”

  Dr. Reynolds held up his hands. “Beth, I don’t want you to go there.”

  “Where?”

  “To Guiltville.”

  “I practically vacation there.”

  “I noticed. What I want you to see is what kind of mother you became because of your hardest moment. You cherished your children. And that’s what you have to believe for your own kids. They’ll face tough times. Heartbreaking moments, sometimes due to their own decisions and sometimes due to someone else’s bad decision. But you’ve told me you’re a woman of faith, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then remember what God did in you when you faced tragedy and difficulty, and trust He’ll do that for your kids, too.”

  In her mind, Beth stepped away from the room, into a memory. She saw a beach. She and Robin were walking on it. It had been one of the few vacations they took, years ago. Nathan was just a baby. Chip wasn’t born yet.

  Beth held Robin’s hand, swinging and jumping and skipping. Laughing. The sun was setting, its warmth hitting their faces and its colors splaying out before them. It was bulbous and orange and easy to look at. The sand tickled the bottoms of their feet.

  Then, in her imagination, it went from a memory to something else. Beth saw herself stop, her feet sinking into the sand. She let go of Robin’s little hand and watched her continue to walk alone, her feet washed in the foamy water of the sea as the waves rolled in and out.