Through the Heart

by Kate Morgenroth

  “Well, we’ll see what happens. Anyway, I wanted to tell you.”

  “Thanks again,” I said. I turned and held out my hand. He took it and held it.

  “If you would consider working in a team, give me a call. And just to sweeten the pot, I’ll take care of your mother for tonight and tomorrow. I’d really like to have you on board. I’d give you your own fund to manage.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  “Good.” He nodded, stubbed out his cigar, and went back inside.

  I stood out there a moment more, breathing in the night air, hearing the murmur of voices through the glass doors. Then I turned around and looked back inside. Andrew was still talking, but he didn’t seem to notice that no one was listening to him. People had broken out into little conversations. The most disturbing development was that somehow Tammy and Edward had shifted seats and were now sitting next to each other, shamelessly flirting. I thought that might happen, and had hoped to prevent it, but I should have known better.

  I looked around the table. It seemed that Marcus had taken on my sour sister. But my favorite pairing was Neil and Celia. I saw Celia trying her tricks on Neil, and Neil simply wasn’t biting.

  I took a breath and went back inside.

  As at all rehearsal dinners, everyone drank too much, ate too little, and stayed too late. It was past eleven when we left the restaurant. Only Andrew, his wife, and my parents, who were staying at the house, had to drive, and I’d hired a car for them. For the rest of us, the B&B was only a few blocks away, so we walked—though some of us not so steadily.

  I had my arm around Nora. She had been so quiet all night. She was normally quiet, but this was even quieter than usual.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said, without looking up at me.

  “You nervous about tomorrow?”

  “I was nervous about tonight.”

  I noticed that she hadn’t answered my question—and I wasn’t happy about it. But I had discovered that when I pushed her, she tended to shut down. So I only said, “You don’t seem very excited.”

  “It’s having the families around. It’s a little stressful.”

  “But look how well it went tonight.”

  “It went all right,” she said.

  “All right? It went better than all right.”

  She didn’t answer me because at that point Edward spotted a bar and said, “Hey, who’s game for getting another drink?”

  “I’d be up for that,” Tammy said, almost immediately and not surprisingly.

  Everyone else offered a low murmur of negatives until, very surprisingly, Celia said, “I’d like another drink.”

  You should have seen the look Tammy turned on her. I could tell that in high school Tammy was one of those girls that was truly feared. She was tiny, but with an arsenal of looks like she had, she must have been feared. Celia pretended not to notice.

  I imagined pitting Celia and Tammy against each other. Who would win? I would have bet on Tammy in the ring, but in this situation there wasn’t much she could do. Tammy and Edward and Celia headed off to the bar, while the rest of us continued on to the B&B.

  We said our good-nights in the lobby. I played the gentleman with Nora’s mother and sister, then I walked Nora to the door of her room. I had decided to go with tradition and get separate rooms for the night before the wedding.

  Nora stood with her back against the doorsill, looking up at me.

  “I love you,” I told her.

  “I love you too,” she said.

  I kissed her, and her lips were as soft as ever.

  “Guess what?” I said.

  “What? ”

  “We’re getting married tomorrow,” I whispered.

  But it was like so many things in life that we think we know for certain—they’re not so certain at all.

  Timothy

  Timothy Gets a Visitor

  as He Gets Ready for Bed

  I went back to my room, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and was just getting out of my clothes when I heard a soft knock on the door.

  I was sure it was Nora, and I loved the fact that she couldn’t stay away.

  “Come in, door’s open,” I called.

  The door opened, and I discovered it wasn’t Nora. It was Celia.

  She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, with a smile that I knew well.

  Now I realized why she had said she wanted to go for a drink with Tammy and Edward. It was an excuse not to go back to the room with Marcus, so she could slip away and come back here.

  “Celia, what are you doing here?” I asked her.

  After Nora came to the city, I ignored Celia’s calls for a few weeks, until I realized she wasn’t going to stop calling. I finally picked up and told her it was over with us. She seemed to take it well. She said only, “Too bad. Let me know if you change your mind.” And that was it. Until now.

  In answer to my question she said, “What do you think I’m doing here?”

  “Celia, for God’s sake, I’m getting married tomorrow, and your husband is just two doors down.”

  “I know,” she said, her smile getting wider.

  I couldn’t resist.

  It wasn’t about Celia. I didn’t actually care about Celia. It was the thrill of doing something you’re not supposed to do—something that would shock and appall other people. I had never been able to resist that.

  “Come here,” I said.

  And she came.

  When I made the decision, Nora didn’t enter into it. I know that sounds strange, but I loved Nora. It seemed so clear to me that what I did with Celia didn’t affect how I felt about Nora. If anything, it made me love Nora more.

  Celia was a noisy lover. It was part of what made it so exciting. And she was louder that night than usual.

  I tried holding my hand over her mouth, but that only muffled it. She was so loud I didn’t hear the door (which was still unlocked) when it opened.

  Celia’s head was thrown back and her eyes were closed. Then she opened them to look at me, and her eyes slid past me, then they widened in shock.

  It was instinctive—I didn’t even think; I just turned my head to look.

  Nora

  The Rehearsal Dinner

  Timothy was so pleased with how the rehearsal dinner went—but he didn’t know everything that happened. It didn’t go quite as smoothly for me. In fact, my whole world blew apart right before the tiramisu was served.

  The waitstaff was clearing the plates from dinner, and pouring more wine, and the room was loud with all the conversations—and not with yelling. It was going well, and I was just starting to relax and think that a miracle might happen.

  I slipped out to go to the ladies’. I heard the door open and someone else come in while I was in the stall. When I came out, I found my mother waiting for me by the sinks.

  “So, what do you think of the dinner?” I asked, trying to be upbeat. It didn’t work.

  She ignored my question completely. She said, “Nora, I have something to tell you.”

  I had just turned on the faucet to wash my hands. “What is it?”

  “I’m dying.”

  I shut the faucet off and turned to face her. “What?”

  Now that she had my attention, she was suddenly very busy rummaging in her purse. She pulled out a lipstick, opened it, leaned into the mirror, and then she paused and said, “I’ve stopped the chemo. There’s no point in continuing on with it.”

  “Is that what the doctor said?”

  She applied the lipstick and pressed her lips together. When she spoke again, she didn’t answer my question. Instead she said, “Honey, you knew this was coming.”

  “No,” I said. “No. You told me that you were getting better.”

  “Well, I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “How much time do you have?” I asked again.

  “I don’t know,” she said, and I heard her voice getting thick. S
he put her lipstick away carefully as if that simple action needed all of her attention.

  “We’ll find another doctor. Timothy and I will help with this. Don’t worry. Okay? We’ll be here for you.”

  She looked up then—looked intently into my face and said, “If you really want to help, you’ll come home.”

  I felt sick to my stomach.

  “Of course I’ll come home to see you, and you can come to New York, if you feel well enough,” I told her.

  “No, I mean move back home.”

  This was it. This was the nightmare I had been dreading without even knowing it. I thought I was afraid of disagreements or unpleasantness but, no, it was this. This tidal wave of guilt. What are you supposed to do in this situation? I felt like the right thing to do would be to go back home and be there for my mother. Of course that was the right thing, wasn’t it? And yet, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t even need to think about it to know I couldn’t.

  “I’ll be there for you, but I can’t move back home again.”

  She fumbled in her purse and pulled out a tissue. But again she wouldn’t look at me.

  Then, almost desperately, I said, “Mom, I’m getting married.” It was an appeal. I knew it as I said it. I wanted her to let me off the hook. I wanted her to tell me it was okay.

  She didn’t. She was clutching the tissue when she said, “Nora, I don’t want to die alone.”

  “What about Deirdre? Can’t Deirdre move in with you? Then you’d have the kids there as well. You wouldn’t be alone.”

  “And I’d have no peace. Her kids scream all the time, and anyway Deirdre won’t do it. She doesn’t care. You know that.”

  “But you two seemed to be getting along so well recently.”

  “Deidre’s fine when you give her what she wants, but forget it if you actually need anything from her.” My mother took the tissue and blotted her lips.

  “Did you ask?”

  “Yes, I asked,” my mother snapped, tossing the tissue angrily into the wastebasket. “And if you can do one thing for me, I’m asking you not to bring this up to her. She didn’t think I should tell you at all, and the last thing I need on top of all this is a lecture from her.”

  So that was the look my mother and Deirdre had exchanged when I picked them up at the airport.

  It might be a terrible thing to think, but I wished that my mother hadn’t told me. During all the years I was home, I wanted so much to know what was actually going on. And now, I wanted nothing but not to know.

  My mother recovered quickly from her little spurt of anger. She looked at me again, with that look I couldn’t bear.

  “I need you, honey. I need you with me.”

  “Mom, I . . .” and I couldn’t go on.

  But she knew without me having to say it.

  She turned on a dime, from pleading to vicious. “You think you’ve found it, don’t you? You think now you’re going to live happily ever after?” my mother said. “You’ve found Prince Charming, with looks and money and charm, and you’re just going to ride off into the sunset?”

  “I just want a life.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that living with me was like a death. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  “No—”

  But my mother wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. “You don’t have to tell me. I know my life is like a living death. Ever since I had you girls, and you tied me down, and you took everything from me. You were why your father left. When you were born, you cried all the time, and he couldn’t take it. You took my life from me, and now you won’t even be there for me at the end of it. Forget I even asked.”

  It had been a long time since I’d heard the story of how I was the reason why my father had left. She used say it to me all the time when I was growing up—that I was the reason my father left, that I was the reason she was all alone. It used to really upset me. I found it still did, but not enough to get me to change my mind.

  My mother went on, “Just forget I said anything. And, for God’s sake, don’t say anything to your sister.”

  As if she had been summoned, the bathroom door swung open and we both turned as if caught. Deirdre took one look at my face, and she knew. She rounded on my mother.

  “Don’t tell me,” Deirdre said to our mother. “I can’t believe you did this. And tonight.”

  I tried to smooth things over. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Really.”

  “It’s not fine. It’s not fine,” Deirdre said.

  “Stay out of this, Deirdre,” my mother said. “I swear to God, you stay out of this.”

  “No way. I’ve had enough.” Deirdre was obviously furious. “I told you I’d keep my mouth shut, but it was on the condition that you didn’t pull something like this. You’re sick, you know that? You’re really sick.”

  I broke in, “Deirdre, it’s okay. I know you were trying to protect me, but maybe it’s best that it’s all out now.”

  “You don’t even know the half of it,” my sister said.

  At that moment the bathroom door swung open again, and Timothy’s sister, Emily, came in.

  “Wow, crowded in the bathroom,” Emily said in that way she had; the words were normal enough, but there was hostility beneath them.

  Even my mother could hear it. “We were just going,” my mother said. And she looked pointedly at me.

  “Yes, right,” I said. But as I followed her out, Deirdre grabbed my wrist.

  “I need to talk to you,” she whispered.

  “Okay. Later,” I said, but I was thinking that it was the last thing I wanted. My sister and I would probably just get into a big fight over it as well. I thought if I could, I would avoid her until after the wedding.

  “Where have you been?” Timothy asked me, when I got back to the table. “You were gone for ages. I think I want to add something to the vows tomorrow—I want to put a five-minute cap on your abandoning me at dinner parties we’re hosting.”

  He didn’t know that my mother had been trying to convince me to abandon him for a lot longer than five minutes. I decided I wasn’t going to tell him. Not tonight.

  “I saved your tiramisu for you,” he said. “Well, most of it.”

  I looked down. Someone had eaten half of it.

  “Now I know why you wanted the tiramisu,” I said. “Didn’t you get one yourself?”

  “I told you it was my favorite dessert.”

  “You can have the rest of mine.” I pushed my plate toward him.

  “No, you should have it. I think it’s the best tiramisu I’ve ever had.”

  But then, somehow he did end up eating the rest. He was drunk, like everyone else at the dinner table at that point. I think I’d been on my way to nicely buzzed before my trip to the bathroom. But that had sobered me up, and after that I felt left out, the way you do when you’re sober in a room full of drunks. It was a relief when, soon after that, the party broke up.

  Most of us ended up walking back to the B&B together, but on the way Tammy and Edward and Celia decided to get a nightcap. Timothy murmured to me that he was worried about Tammy and Edward, but I didn’t worry about that at all. I thought if anyone was at risk, it was Edward. It surprised me that Celia wanted to join them for a drink, though I didn’t really spend too much time thinking about it.

  We all said good night. I could see that my sister was trying to catch my eye, but I avoided her, and Timothy was my bodyguard; he walked me to my room. Outside the door, we both stopped. I turned around to look up at him.

  He touched my face. “I love you,” he told me.

  “I love you too,” I said.

  He kissed me and said, “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

  I smiled.

  Then I went into my room and closed the door behind me. I lay down on the bed, still in my dress and shoes and coat. And I closed my eyes. I didn’t go to sleep. I just lay there.

  I don’t know exactly how
long, but it didn’t seem like a very long time before there was a knock at my door. The last thing I wanted to do was to talk to anyone right then, but I got up and went over to the door and opened it. I was sure it was going to be my sister. Or my mother. The last person I expected to see standing there was Celia.

  “Celia, is something wrong? Are Tammy and Edward okay?” I couldn’t think of any other reason she’d come knock on my door that late at night. It’s not like we were good friends or anything. I’d met her only that one time, with Timothy and Marcus, for drinks.

  She looked at me, and she had the strangest smile on her face. Then she said, “Come to Timothy’s room in about fifteen minutes. Don’t knock. The door will be open. Just come in.”

  Then she turned around and walked away.

  It might have sounded mysterious and cryptic, but it wasn’t. As soon as she said it, I knew.

  I closed the door and went back over to sit on the edge of the bed. I checked the clock. It was three past midnight.

  It was my wedding day.

  I waited until the clock read eighteen past, then I got up and climbed to the upper floor.

  I walked past Timothy’s room and down the hall, and I knocked at another door. It took a few minutes, but Marcus opened it, wearing a robe.

  Then I said to him, “I think you should go down the hall to Timothy’s room and get your wife. You don’t have to knock. The door will be open.”

  He just stared at me. At first I thought maybe he didn’t understand, and I was about to say it again, when he asked me, “Which room?”

  I pointed.

  He brushed past me and went to the door I had pointed to. He hesitated a moment before putting his hand on the doorknob, and I realized he was listening to something. A moment later it was louder, and I could hear it too. Then he turned the knob, went inside, and closed the door behind him.

  Then there was silence. Just breathless, absolute silence.

  Celia came out first. She was wrapped only in a sheet, and she was clutching her clothes. She was almost next to me before she saw me standing there. When she did, she stopped short.