“Yes?” she said.
“I’m a friend of Nora’s,” Tabitha said, realizing how disappointed she was. Did this mean Toby wasn’t there?
“She’s napping now,” the woman said. “It took me a while to get her to relax, and we don’t appreciate unannounced guests.”
We or you? Tabitha wanted to ask. She had a vision of storming by the aide, of waking Nora and asking if she wanted a visitor now. Tabitha looked at the woman. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Can I tell Nora who stopped by?” she said, continuing to talk in a formal tone.
“Tell her it was ‘that dear girl,’” she said, stepping back into the hall.
The woman smirked at her, like she thought she was trying to be cute or something. She nodded and waited for Tabitha to be fully out before closing the door without a sound.
On the last day that Tabitha and her mother had an actual conversation, Tabitha did hug her. She walked over to her bed and leaned in, feeling the soft, light-purple cashmere of her sweater and thinking: This feels surprisingly good, why didn’t I do this more often? Of course, she didn’t know it would be the last time they would ever speak to each other, or the last time they would ever really touch, at least with any meaning. Tabitha had been mostly sleeping at her mother’s apartment for the last few days, though she had hated it. They were all there, on a death watch, though they didn’t know how quickly it would come. Even the kids had settled in, sleeping in the guest room, watching television shows endlessly.
On that day, Tabitha had sat on a chair at the end of her mother’s bed. Her mother was sitting up, though she wouldn’t be for much longer. She looked like a baby, or like a puppet with a big head as Levi had said once, with such strong emotion it had surprised Tabitha.
“I want you to know that I will be okay,” Tabitha had said. She had wanted to say those words for a while. She wanted her mother to know. “I have a family. I will be okay.” At that moment she’d had no doubt that that would be true.
It was just a few hours later that her mother’s breathing became so labored, it was alarming. Should they take her to the hospital? They all wondered. It would have been one more in a long string of recent hospital visits that patched her up just enough to come home and continue to suffer. No, they all agreed. This time they were going to wait it out, see if she could pull through on her own. Really, it had already been decided, weeks before, but it was hard to not at least discuss the possibility again. The aide suggested that Tabitha call her mother’s doctor to tell him what was happening. He agreed with their decision and prescribed liquid morphine, to make her comfortable, he had said.
They started giving it to her that night, little drops under her tongue. At first she took it like a little bird, opening her mouth and accepting it. Slowly she became less involved in the process, but she never fought it. It was surprisingly easy to give it to her. They were overly careful at the beginning, not giving her more than the label said, even if she became fitful before it was time for the next dose. Tabitha began to have trouble sleeping. She didn’t want to do this anymore, but she felt so bad about feeling that way. She quickly lost track of the last dose, and then the next one. She wasn’t sure when they were given, how much they were supposed to be. Had she just given her mother morphine? No, that was hours ago. But then she would give her a little and panic: Had it really been hours, or minutes?
She told herself everything would be better once it was over, and they could finally come together as a family when this wasn’t pulling at them anymore. And pretty quickly her mother faded away. Nora couldn’t rouse herself out of her stupor anymore when Tabitha called a loud, “Hi!” to her. She had always, always responded to Tabitha before, no matter how sick she was. At that point, though, she didn’t react to her at all. She just lay there, and they could hear her breathe, every single breath.
In the end, Tabitha had no idea how much morphine her mother had. And in the end, it didn’t matter, because by morning, Nora Michelle Taylor was dead. But it did matter. Tabitha went over it so many times in her head, had she or hadn’t she given too much? She would never know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
On the morning of Levi’s bar mitzvah, Tabitha woke up crying. She couldn’t grasp on to what she was crying about. A dream? The fact that Stuart wasn’t here to see this? The fact that she was so grateful that Levi was here and walking and talking and able to do this? She wasn’t sure. Before she got out of bed, her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Tabitha, it’s Rabbi Rosen, I just wanted to let you know we are so happy about today, and we are here to help you with anything you might need.”
Tabitha’s tears hadn’t really stopped before she answered, and now they flowed freely and heavily.
“Thank you,” she managed to get out.
“I can only imagine it’s a hard day for you,” the rabbi said. “But I think it’s also going to be a great day, a magical day, an awesome day, and we are so happy to be a part of it.”
“Thank you,” she said again, a little stronger this time. “We’ll be there in about an hour.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” the rabbi said.
She got up and intended to go right to the shower, but she walked to Levi’s room instead. He was fast asleep and had the same expression on his face he had when he was a baby. Tabitha sat gently next to him but didn’t dare touch him, partly because he might be annoyed and partly because he was still sore. He opened his eyes.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she said, expecting him to yell and tell her to get out, but he didn’t.
“Wow, I’m nervous,” he said, sitting up. His bruises were more yellow than purple now, which she knew was a good thing.
“Don’t be,” Tabitha said. “It will be mostly just us, then lunch at Di Bruno’s after—Aunt Rachel has that all set up. It will be a nice day.”
Levi nodded. She got up and left him to get ready. As she headed to her shower she saw Fern, walking around her room in circles. She hadn’t even realized she was awake.
“What’s up, Fernie Bernie?” Tabitha asked.
“My leg feels better,” she said. “But I just want to make sure.”
“That is amazing news,” Tabitha said. “Just in time for the big day.”
“Yeah,” Fern said. “Just in time.”
Stuart Brewer woke up in a hotel room, and the first thing he did was look out the window, expecting to see Lake Superior. He never slept with his blinds closed anymore; he felt too hemmed in. But he didn’t see Lake Superior, he saw the Delaware River. He sat up and cleared his throat. He had about an hour to get there, and he still hadn’t figured out how he was going to do it. Should he call first? Just show up? Throw himself into the river and never go at all? He showered and dressed, went down for a cab, the whole time his hand was on his phone in his pocket, but he did not pull it out.
“Rodeph Shalom,” he said to the cab driver.
He looked out the window as the cab took him north and eventually west. The cab stopped in front. The renovation, which was underway when Stuart left, was now complete. It almost looked like an entirely different place, at least from this angle. This moment, this event, was the only thing he had on his calendar—at all, for the rest of his life. Without Abigail out there somewhere—and since she had died, he realized that he’d always been aware that she was out there somewhere—he felt completely ungrounded. He swiped his last, barely working credit card and got out. He was going to see so many people he knew. He had no idea what Tabitha had been saying these past months. And none of it compared to what it would be like to face her.
He walked around the new grand entrance to the older one, which was grand enough for him. By doing that he avoided a lot of people, though as far as he could tell he didn’t recognize any of them. For a brief moment he thought he might have the wrong day. He walked in and grabbed a program, saw he had the right day, then went to sit in th
e back with a yarmulke on and his head down.
They came in, and all he wanted to do was run to them, but he didn’t; he stayed seated, pretending to be completely immersed in a prayer book. They sat in the front row. The seats filled in, but he noticed there was no additional family here, none of Levi’s friends. Oh, he saw Butch off to the side, but that was it. The music started, and Levi was up there. He had grown, and Stuart could see there was something wrong with his face. It was discolored. He was glad to know about the bike accident or he would have really worried. Suddenly, Levi was saying something in Hebrew—this was it, and Stuart had the urge to slow it down. What was he going to do after this? But Levi saw him. He clearly saw him, and he stopped saying whatever he was saying. Now faces turned to see what Levi saw. Some looked right past him, but Tabitha noticed him. Her face completely changed when she spotted him. It was almost like all the muscles in her cheeks clenched up and twitched. Then she turned back toward the front of the sanctuary, toward Levi. She sat so straight that she looked uncomfortable. Levi stumbled, then used the yad to find his place. He kept going; his words were beautiful. His voice became stronger and stronger.
He came! Levi couldn’t believe he came! He felt this might be his only chance to show his father what he could do. He had worked so hard for this, for this exact purpose. To prove to his father that he was worth sticking around for, worth being proud of, worth claiming as his son. He stood up straighter, held the yad as Rabbi Rosen had instructed him to do, and he read perfectly from the Torah, his inflections just right. He never wanted it to end. What would happen when it was over? Would his father disappear again? No, don’t think about that. Focus. Read.
Fern couldn’t stop looking at him. He looked the same, well, almost the same, but she felt uncomfortable, like he might not reach out and accept her into his arms the way he always did, or the way he used to. But she wanted to show him her leg was better! She couldn’t wait to show him! And then something gloomy came into her mind. He never even knew her leg was bad, so he wouldn’t care that it was better. How could she have lived through something so important, something so hard, completely without him?
Levi stumbled over his Hebrew words. He cleared his throat and started again. Fern turned her attention back to her brother.
Tabitha waited. It was ruined for her, but she did not want to ruin it for Levi. She sat, feeling like something was sticking through her middle, like she had been pierced, and she waited. She smiled when she joined the procession walking the Torah around the sanctuary, something they had practiced, and Stuart had enough sense to not join in. They all had enough sense to avoid his row. He just stood and watched. It was like she knew him and she didn’t know him. When it was finally over and everyone crowded around Levi, Tabitha walked toward Stuart. She pointed toward the closest exit, and he followed her into a stairwell. She didn’t plan to stay long—she didn’t want Levi to notice she was gone—but she saw no other choice. To let him come and to not call him on any of it would be like letting him get away with something, and she couldn’t do that.
She turned to Stuart, who was now sitting at the bottom of the stairs, his face in his hands. She hated him. There was just no other way to describe what she was feeling. She took a chance on him, and now she knew she had wasted her life. He never deserved her trust, and her love, and her hope.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she said, keeping her voice down and pacing. A few weeks ago, before the accident, this would have gone a different way, but now, now that Levi was okay, all of this mattered so much less. But still . . .
“Are you going to make me ask the questions?” Tabitha said. “Really?”
He didn’t say anything. She felt that she could hear the seconds tick away; she wanted to be with Levi. She heard Levi laugh, and she relaxed slightly—he wasn’t looking for her yet.
“Why are you here? Why did you come?”
“I was always going to come,” Stuart said, more to his hands than to her. “What I wasn’t going to do was stay away so long. When I left, I knew it would be some time, but I didn’t know how long.”
Ten questions were trying to get out of her mouth at the same time, and all she wanted to do was go back to Levi. She heard him laugh again.
“You know what? I don’t want to do this now,” she said. “I don’t want to miss any of this.”
“I have questions, too,” he said dumbly.
“I want you to leave, but I can’t do that to Levi. We will go back in, you will tell him he did a great job and that you’re proud of him. You are not welcome at our celebration today. I want to meet you tomorrow at noon at Starbucks to talk this through. You can tell Levi you will celebrate in your own way if you want to, or not. That is up to you.”
Stuart nodded, and she expected him to dispute something or fight for something she hadn’t given him. Instead, he stood and reached for the door, pulling it open, and Levi’s voice spilled toward them. Stuart stepped back and let Tabitha go first, then they both walked toward their son.
Tabitha entered Starbucks half expecting that Stuart wouldn’t come. She never specified which Starbucks, though she hoped he would know she meant the one a block away from their apartment, that was always their Starbucks. She had no idea what he did after the ceremony yesterday or where he slept. She didn’t try to call him or email him, not that she would have gotten through, but she was aware of how done she was with him. She did hope to get some answers, though, and would be disappointed if she didn’t get the chance. Mostly, she wanted to have a chance to tell him how horrible what he did was, not just to her, that was bad enough, but to the kids. She hoped she’d be able to keep it together. She knew how hard it was to get through to him sometimes. Well, most of the time. Somewhere, deep down, she also knew she was not entirely innocent in everything that transpired between them. She walked in and ordered a latte, paid, stuffed a big tip into the jar, and sat at the long table toward the back. She faced south, so she couldn’t see her building, but she knew it was there. The kids were happy and safe inside.
“Hello,” he said, startling her. She didn’t see him walk in.
“Hi,” she said, standing, but immediately regretted it, because it seemed like the normal thing to do, and this was anything but normal. She sat back down. He looked around and chose the seat across from her. She was glad. She didn’t want him to sit next to her. He looked pasty and he had circles under his eyes.
“So after all that, you went to Abigail?” she asked first, because even if that wasn’t where he had been recently, it seemed that was where he had set out to go.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“Why the threat?” she spit out—she just couldn’t wait, couldn’t take the time to build up to it. He looked at her, surprised, that wasn’t what he thought the next question would be. “The threat! At the bottom of the note!”
“Yes,” he said slowly, sitting up a little straighter. “I know. I wrote that at the last minute. I was terrified. I was also surprised you had been so forceful that night. I don’t know what I expected. I think I always thought if I was ever completely honest, if I ever laid it all on the line, you would understand, or, at least I would have a clear way out. But that didn’t happen, and I was scared, and mad. I just wrote it. It was the last thing I did before leaving the house. I guess, if I really had to say, I wanted you to remember that you had done some bad things, too, Tabitha, that you weren’t perfect either.”
“It was awful,” Tabitha said. “Possibly the worst part of your leaving.”
“Well, I think that is very telling then,” Stuart said, sounding a bit more like himself. Tabitha felt a need to take back control of the situation.
“So, you went to see Abigail, and then she died,” she said, not exactly cruelly, but not kindly.
“How did you know that?” he asked.
“The better question would be, ‘What have you been doing since then?’”
“Nothing,” Stuart said. “Basically, staying
away from society. I completely fell apart. I haven’t worked. I haven’t done anything.”
“That sounds luxurious,” Tabitha said coldly.
“Not really,” Stuart mumbled.
“Well, I would have liked to do that, too,” Tabitha said. “Just drop out. But I couldn’t. Because I had kids to take care of.”
She took a sip of her latte, but it didn’t taste good anymore.
“Well, thank you for that,” he said. “I am so sorry, for everything. So sorry that she was always pulling at me somehow, even when I didn’t realize it. When I had the chance, this last chance, I just couldn’t pass it up. I had to be with her and try to give her what I could.”
“Interesting that you say that,” Tabitha said. “Because I have reason to believe this was not your first visit to see her. I have reason to believe this was ongoing.”
He just looked at her.
“Was it?”
“Well, to answer what I think you are really asking, which is: was I unfaithful before, the answer is no, if you are thinking of it in a physical way,” he said honestly. “But yes, it’s true that about two years ago I found her. I ran into her, but I was always looking for her, long before that. And she let me see her, in the hospital, that was it, but nothing else happened then, the times I visited her in the hospital, that is. Not until this time.”
Tabitha didn’t know what to think or feel. She didn’t know if that was a relief or not. She just dropped it all into the same pot—her failed marriage.
“You were so dishonest with me, Stuart, from day one,” she said. “You were never available to me, never.”
“I wanted to be,” he said. “But she was always out there.”
“She stole from me,” Tabitha said.
“No, she didn’t, she stole from me,” Stuart said.
Not Perfect Page 28
