Being Known

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “What about the pedicures?”

  “My mom used to take me with her to the nail salon starting when I was eight. We always went the first Saturday morning of the month. Same place. Same massage chairs. Same women working there.”

  “What color did you get?” Christy asked.

  “It was different every time. One time I went on a peach streak; another time I had each toenail painted a different color. I think I was ten when I did that. My mom called it my rainbow pedicure.”

  I smiled, remembering my mermaid phase, and told Christy about how I had tried four different blues before finding the perfect shade.

  “One year, for the Fourth of July, I did red, white, and blue, and my mom paid extra to have a few little stars added on my big toe. We went on vacation to Lake Tahoe the next day, and I was so mad because…” I paused. The memories had collided.

  My instinct was to pull back and not tell Christy what happened next. Then I realized this was my chance to try a new option instead of hiding. I could bring the memory out and into the light, the way Christy had talked about earlier at the park.

  “I was mad because our family was on vacation with another family. We hardly knew them, and I didn’t want them to be there. The first day, down at the water, their son, Garrett, tried to push me off the dock.”

  “Garrett?” Christy repeated.

  I nodded. “Yes, Garrett. That’s how we met. I twisted my ankle, and two of the stars came off my big toe.” I chuckled. Telling the account to Christy diffused a bit of the heartache I had been carrying around since January, when the memories of Garrett had only been examined in the dark.

  “I think I was more upset about the stars than the wrapped ankle and having to hobble around the rest of our vacation.”

  Christy sipped her tea-and-juice elixir and kept looking at me. When I didn’t offer up any more stories she said, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m curious. How did your relationship with Garrett end?”

  I thought a moment and decided that I didn’t mind telling her. In fact, I wanted Christy to know. I wanted someone other than Mom to know this part of my life. All Joel knew was that Garrett had been the one to end the relationship and that I had been hurt by him.

  “Garrett got a summer job at a kids’ sports camp right after we graduated from high school. He met a girl there. JoyAnna. They worked side by side every day, and he had ‘planning meetings’ with her a couple of nights a week.”

  Christy raised an eyebrow when I said “planning meetings” and repeated the name “JoyAnna” as if she were about to add a boo-hiss.

  “I was clueless. I thought all our secret plans were in motion. He had an athletic scholarship to a little college in Idaho. I had secretly enrolled at a community college near his school. We were going to marry and then tell our parents because we knew they would tell us we were too young.”

  “You guys had it all planned?”

  “We did. Or at least, I thought we did. The thing was, it was all a secret. Our secret. So when he met JoyAnna and decided he wanted to date her, it seemed to everyone else that our high school relationship had simply run its course, and we had agreed to see other people.”

  Christy shook her head.

  “I was the only one who knew that he had planned a future with me. That is, until I finally told my mom.” I leaned back.

  Christy looked hurt, as if she were feeling the pain of the betrayal that I had gone through. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Jennalyn.”

  “The unexpected gift that came out of it was that my mom and I grew really close during that time. I had kept so much hidden from her. I thought I was being loyal to my future husband, but I discovered I had shut out all other relationships to keep the secrets. Once I opened up to her, Mom became my best friend.”

  I told Christy about watching the movie Emma with my mom, and how she had initiated the memento-burning party for the two of us at the beach and how that’s when I forgave Garrett.

  Tears came to my eyes. They were familiar tears. Silent, flowing out of my heart without a sound. I wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed to cry in front of Christy. She made it clear that the tears didn’t frighten her, nor did she seem to feel the need to stop them. She simply entered the moment with me.

  “I love that your mom did that memento-burning party with you at the beach,” Christy said. “What a tangible sort of wild way for her to enter into your heartache to help to start the healing process with forgiveness.”

  “I told you: she was savvy. She knew how to go to the heart of things. I’m so glad Mom walked me through the process of forgiveness because that’s how I was able to heal and be free. My heart was available and uncluttered when I met Joel.”

  “I like that: ‘available and uncluttered.’ An uncluttered heart. I’m going to remember that.”

  In the same way that the toys and dishes were evidence of life in Christy’s world, memories of my mom were evidence of her life. Instead of putting away those memories and trying to make my life look organized and tidy, I decided that I didn’t mind if those mismatched pieces of evidence were strewn throughout my days. I didn’t want to ever burn, bury, or hide memorabilia related to Mom.

  “I can tell that the friendship you and your mom had was extraordinary. I hope you and I can have that with our daughters.”

  I agreed. Then, to my deep joy, Christy added words that took away any insecurity the twelve-year-old in me had once held on to about my place on her friendship scale.

  “And, Jennalyn, I hope that same kind of extraordinariness will always be in our friendship too.”

  I nodded and dried the last of my spontaneous waterfall tears.

  “You know what I was just thinking,” Christy said. “I’m guessing it won’t be long before your girly-girl will want to pick up the tradition with you and have a standing date on the first Saturday of every month to have a pedicure.”

  “Are you kidding? Eden would be over the moon if I took her for a pedicure. You should have seen her when she got her hair cut! She would be all about the pink. Lots of pink.”

  “Hana would probably want green. That’s her favorite color lately. We should take both our girls some time.”

  “Yes, let’s do that. How fun!”

  We heard a door open upstairs and timid footsteps coming down the stairs. Hana stopped where the staircase opened to the living room. She leaned forward and smiled at us.

  “I think it’s been an hour,” she said. Her shoulder-length blond hair had escaped her ponytail on one side, creating a lopsided pouf. She was wearing an overly baggy navy blue hoodie with the faded words Rancho Corona University across the front.

  “Come join us.” Christy held out her arms, welcoming her daughter.

  Hana shuffled over, with the sweatshirt’s sleeves hanging past her knees. She planted her skinny little self onto the sofa between us, and Christy put her arm around her.

  “I used to wear your daddy’s sweatshirts too,” Christy said.

  “It’s cold in your room,” Hana said. “I wanted to warm up.”

  “I’ll warm you up.” Christy cuddled her close and kissed her on the top of her head. “How was your book?”

  “Good.”

  “What part are you at?”

  I stood and pointed to the downstairs bathroom so that Christy would know why I was leaving. It was fun to hear Hana tell her mom about a book that Christy apparently had read when she was young. Watching the way Christy mothered Hana was a small gift. If it was Eden, the first thing I probably would have done when she came to the couch was fuss with her hair. That would have undoubtedly made her self-conscious. Christy’s ease in folding her daughter into her everyday moments was so much like the way my mother used to treat me. I could learn a lot from Christy.

  When my kids and I reached home, Eden
convinced me to make waffles for dinner. She had heard Hana talking about having waffles that morning before they went to the park. I’m not sure Eden had eaten enough waffles in her short life to remember what they were.

  All I cared about was that she wasn’t requesting cheese.

  She helped to make the waffles on our rarely used electric waffle maker. I put a slice of strawberry on each cooked square and added a small dollop of peanut butter on the center in one of my never-ending efforts to introduce her to a new protein food source.

  Eden ate the entire waffle, peanut butter, strawberries, and all. I did a little dance on the kitchen floor, imitating the way Eden liked to twirl in her tutu. It was a breakthrough moment and gave me hope that we could have another success at Poppy’s birthday party dinner the next day.

  The kids and I got ready for the celebration earlier than we needed to on Sunday afternoon. It seemed wise to allow time for something to go wonky, since it often did with two kids. Eden loved having a chance to wear what she called her “pretty princess dress.” I put Alex in his one and only button-down shirt with a bow tie that looped around his neck with elastic.

  I wore the black boatneck top Tess had given me along with my most comfortable pair of black pants. They weren’t the smallest size of black pants in my closet, but they allowed me the tummy room I needed to sit for many hours with Joel’s extended family and eat all the delicious food my husband would undoubtedly have delivered to our table in abundance.

  Even though I knew I would be carrying Alex a lot and he was still pulling on everything, I remembered Tess’s tip and decided to wear a pair of dangling gold earrings I had worn a lot when Joel and I were dating. He used to tease me and say that they were fishing lures, and I was using them to catch him. I wondered if he would recognize them tonight.

  One of the things that still bothered me from the unresolved argument Joel and I had a few nights ago was his accusation that I was “different” because I had lost weight, wore makeup, and stopped putting my hair up in a messy twist. He made it sound as if I had been doing those things for some other man. How could he miss the point that I was trying to spiff up my appearance for him? I wondered what he would think of the new top and the earrings.

  It doesn’t matter because tomorrow will be our day to get everything out in the open and resolved.

  I needed an uncluttered heart.

  And I need my husband back.

  Chapter 22

  Poppy and GiGi were already in the reserved room at the Blue Ginger when we arrived. Eden ran to hug them and told Poppy that we brought him a present, and she had made him not one card but two.

  Poppy held up two fingers and grinned at her. “Two?”

  “Yes.” She mimicked the two fingers. “Two cards. For you, Poppy. Because I love you.” Eden wrapped her arms around his leg, and I watched my father-in-law turn to mush.

  I let Alex run around for a while because I knew he would be confined in his high chair for a long time. I left Eden with GiGi and followed my adventurous son around the back room. He had to examine the chairs, one leg of the table, and an edge of the tablecloth—and pick up the piece of something unidentified from the floor. I followed and monitored him until nearly all the other relatives arrived. Alex’s older cousins wanted to squeeze his cheeks, pick him up, and feed him bread from the baskets delivered to the table.

  My sister-in-law, Angela, sat Alex on her lap until he had downed the soft center from the piece of bread she gave him, and then he was determined to crawl across the table for more.

  Everyone seemed to have an opinion about what Alex should do. The experienced moms warned against letting him fill up on bread. All the uncles told me to let him down so he could run around the room. I felt like I was locked into some sort of parallel universe where every other human on the planet was a clone of my husband, and I was the only one trying to maintain any sort of routine or control.

  Just then, Joel appeared with four sharply dressed waiters who were filling our glasses and offering to place our cloth napkins on our laps.

  “Welcome!” Joel stood behind his father and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re all here. Let’s raise our glasses in a toast to the man we honor most in all the world. The man who raised us, who still puts up with us, and is the man who puts that smile on our mother’s face. Yeah, that’s the smile. That one, right there. To Poppy!”

  We cheered and toasted, and the birthday feast began with family-style platters of fabulous looking and smelling food.

  “Put the salmon there.” Joel caught my eye as my favorite dish on the menu was placed in the middle of the table in front of me.

  I smiled at Joel. He was shining. He looked happy that his family could see him in his domain. I thought of how well suited Joel was for being the manager-owner master of ceremonies. He needed to be noticed, not hidden in the kitchen.

  Eden had to go to the bathroom, so I slid out with her. When we returned, I finally got my son back and put him into his highchair next to me. I calmed him with a sippy cup I had brought with me. The chair on the other side of me was left empty, in hopes that Joel would sit with us at some point. Eden was on the other side of that chair, and GiGi was next to Eden, telling her what all the yummy foods on the table were. I almost let out a cheer when Eden tried three of the items GiGi put on her plate.

  The meal was superb. The conversation, lively as always. I could tell that Poppy was loving every minute. Joel was right. This was the thing we could give Poppy that would make him happy.

  A beautiful, big birthday cake with many candles was delivered to our table on a dessert cart. Eden squealed with delight and helped Poppy blow the candles out. The ribbing about hurrying up before setting off the smoke detectors and the round of applause were silenced when two waiters sliced the cake and delivered generous wedges around the table.

  Joel slid into the seat next to me, still wearing his chef’s jacket. “Did I miss anything?” he teased.

  “This was wonderful,” I said. “All of it was so good, Joel.”

  He took a bite of cake, leaned back with his arm resting on the back of my chair, and seemed like the second happiest man on the planet—his father being the first. The conversation rolled on, with lots of praise for Joel and lots of comments as Poppy opened his cards and gifts.

  “You look stunning,” Joel said. “Is that a new outfit?”

  I nodded.

  He smiled. “I’ve missed those fishing lures.” I thought he was about to kiss me. Our moment was broken by an outburst from Alex, who had reached his limit.

  Angela offered to take him. I gladly let her. Now that her kids were way beyond the cuddling stage, she seemed to crave the snuggles of my son, regardless of how sticky he was at this point.

  Eden had come over and crawled onto Joel’s lap. One of her older cousins across the table was playing a game on his dad’s cell phone. Eden wanted to do the same.

  “So that’s why you came to sit on my lap. I don’t have my phone with me.” Joel turned to me. “Do you still have those kids’ games on your phone?”

  I didn’t like giving Eden a phone to occupy her, but the dinner had been long, and I knew Joel wanted a chance to sit and visit with his family. I pulled my phone out of my purse and handed it to him. “There’s an alphabet game on there in the game file.”

  Joel tapped and swiped, telling Eden she didn’t need to help him. “I’ll get it ready for you, then you can have Mommy’s phone. There. It’s opening. Wait. There’s a message.”

  “Daddy, I can do it.”

  Joel didn’t reply to Eden. I turned and saw that his face was going gray.

  The realization of what had just happened crashed down on me. I reached for my phone, but it felt as if my arm moved in slow motion. It was too late. The game he had opened by mistake was the one I had played with Garrett. I had forgotten all a
bout it; I had never deleted it.

  The game opened to the last message. I could see the words on the screen as Joel held it just out of Eden’s reach.

  Thanks for spending tonight with me, Jennie. Love you.

  Without a word, Joel handed me my phone in a civilized manner. Calmly lifting Eden, he transferred her to my lap. He stood, gave his dad and mom a hug and a kiss, and made an apology for having to get back to work.

  With a massive lump in my throat, I watched Joel as he strode away from me, from his children, from his parents, and from his family. He disappeared into the welcoming kitchen—the kitchen that had been my competition for the last two years.

  I sat in heart-pounding, aching silence until Eden’s wiggles were too much for me to contain. With a courageous fake smile and farewell to all the relatives, I gathered up both my children and hustled them out to the car and back to the familiar fortress of our home.

  I texted Joel. I called him. I called the restaurant and asked the hostess to let him know I needed him to call me. I put the kids to bed and waited for him to come home.

  But Joel didn’t come home.

  Throughout the night, I huddled under a blanket on the couch, waiting, listening for the sound of his key in the front door. I checked my phone every few minutes. I cried off and on for hours.

  The agony that gripped me was paralyzing. I didn’t know where he was. I didn’t know if I should contact his parents. I let my mind consider the very worst.

  Around three in the morning, a slow-burning anger set in. His tactic of disappearing wasn’t fair. He didn’t know all the facts. Only an assumption. If he was going to judge me and alienate me due to what he thought the message meant, then he was the one in the wrong. He was being jealous and petty and was out of line.

  I made a cup of coffee and found that it fueled my thoughts on what I would say when I saw him. Even though he was supposed to have Monday off, I wondered if he might go into work or if he might even still be at the restaurant. I imagined going to the Blue Ginger and pounding on the locked doors.