The Virtues of Oxygen

by Susan Schoenberger

  “Thank you, Darla,” Holly said, welling up again. “That means more to me than you know.”

  When she left the office that night, Holly instinctively took a left turn at Main Street instead of the right she should have taken to drive to Vivian’s. She found herself in front of her house before she realized that she didn’t live there anymore. In the few days they had been gone, the house had taken on an air of abandonment. A light snow had fallen the day before, and no one had shoveled the path to the front door or the sidewalk. In the falling darkness, the spray-painted patches glowed—a whiter whiteness on white.

  She turned off the engine, took off her gloves, threw them on the passenger seat, and rested her head on the cool plastic of the steering wheel. It wasn’t just the house that she had to let go, it was Chris. It was the whole story of the life they had expected to have. Saying good-bye to the stone foundation and the Dutch colonial roof meant finally accepting that she had a different life now, one that had veered down a dark, winding road. She had been living as if she could keep everything intact, as though Chris could walk in the door any minute and spruce the place back up in no time. But that wasn’t going to happen. Now she could only see as far ahead as her headlights would allow.

  She felt as though she were in a Frank Capra movie, about to either jump off a bridge or meet an angel. But neither happened. She put her gloves back on and restarted the car, driving back to Vivian’s in silence, feeling the slip of her balding car tires on the snow.

  CHAPTER 30

  It was after seven when Holly finally made it back to Vivian’s and found the boys eating pizza from TV trays in the living room. They were all watching a James Bond movie on the flat screen above Vivian’s head. Marveen came out of the kitchen with a two-liter bottle of Coke as Holly put her tote bags and a small grocery bag down.

  “Hi, Mom,” Connor said through a mouth crammed with pizza. Marshall nodded at her and kept eating.

  “Hi, guys,” Holly said, turning to Vivian. “What’s all this?”

  “There’s a James Bond marathon on,” Vivian said. “I told Marveen to order some pizza so we could make it a little party.”

  Holly had stopped at the grocery store on her way back to Vivian’s. She had chicken breasts, broccoli, and brown rice in the bag. Her plan had been to make, retroactively, the meal she had told Connor to lie about on his Health questionnaire. Without the mortgage to worry about, she felt she could actually afford better food now. And here they were eating pizza.

  “It’s from Luigi’s,” Marshall said, pulling off another slice. “Not that cheap stuff from Village Pizza. Look, this one’s got ham and pineapple on it.”

  Holly smiled and put the groceries away, then pulled up a chair. “You really don’t have to feed them,” she said, though Vivian was intently watching the movie.

  “I know,” she said. “I just thought it would be a nice treat. I want them to feel at home.”

  Marveen nodded toward the kitchen, and Holly followed her, grabbing a slice of the ham and pineapple pizza to bring with her.

  “Something’s wrong with her,” Marveen said in a low voice. “She’s completely bipolar all of a sudden. One minute she’s wailing about the injustice of humanity, and the next she’s ordering new curtains for the boys’ room from QVC.”

  “She ordered them new curtains? They’re boys. They don’t even know that curtains exist.”

  “That’s the least of it. I have never seen her so erratic.”

  “Maybe it’s just the disruption of having us come to live with her. She’s not used to having so many people around.”

  “That’s not it. She’s thrilled to have you here. She told me she loves feeling like she’s living in the middle of a busy family. She never had that growing up. It was just her lying there and her parents hovering around her.”

  Holly hadn’t really thought about what the arrangement would do for Vivian. It pleased her to think she wasn’t the only one benefiting from it. She poured herself a glass of Coke, but it tasted too sweet. Her inability to afford soda for the last few years had probably been a blessing.

  “What do you think I should do?” Holly asked. She took an apron from a kitchen drawer, tied it around her waist, and started washing the few dishes and cups in the sink.

  “I don’t know,” Marveen said as Holly scrubbed a dish that already looked clean. “But I’d love to leave at eight, and Darla can’t get here until ten. Do you mind covering?”

  “Of course not,” Holly said, even as she realized that this would happen more and more frequently. Vivian’s volunteers would come to think of her as backup every time they wanted to trade or skip a shift. “I’m here anyway.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” Marveen said. “The tile guy is coming in the morning, and I still need to choose the final pattern for the backsplash. Arthur has been working such long hours that we haven’t had a chance to talk about it, and he cannot keep his eyes open past nine thirty.”

  Holly had a sudden revelation that money didn’t alleviate worry, it simply transferred it to a different class of consumer goods. If you didn’t have to worry about whether you could afford Luigi’s versus Village Pizza, you worried about your tile backsplash and your pool lining. And if you didn’t have to worry about your tile backsplash and your pool lining, you worried about your private plane and the exchange rate in euros.

  Marveen dried the last of the dishes and put them away.

  “And now you’re going to tell me about Racine,” she said. “What’s happening? I heard that he wasn’t in town anymore.”

  Holly walked to the doorway to check on Vivian and the boys. All were glued to the TV screen. “It’s complicated,” she said. “He did leave town, but he came back. But then he left again. Maybe he’s lost interest. I really don’t know what to think.”

  “Why? Because he hasn’t called in a few days?” Marveen said. “You’re past the games, so it’s okay to call him now. Have a little fun in your life.”

  Holly looked down at her shoes, black ballet flats that were so worn and scuffed she couldn’t have put them in a Goodwill bag without being embarrassed. “I can’t do that. I’m just not one of those women who can sleep with someone for fun.”

  “For God’s sake, Holly. Life is too short to insist on true love.”

  Holly knew Marveen had a point, but she couldn’t acknowledge it without betraying what she had felt with Racine. She had taken to remembering their evening in New York in minute detail. Something had happened—whether it was inside her head or not—that had raised sex to a different plane. They had had some spiritual connection, maybe touching upon the holy, and she couldn’t pretend that she only wanted to sleep with him before he left again. She would rather have their one time together as the clean and perfect union it had become in her memory.

  “You go home and work on your tile,” Holly said. “We’ll be fine here.”

  Holly thought Vivian might be dozing when she came back into the living room, but Vivian opened her eyes as the credits for the James Bond movie rolled.

  “Can I get you anything?” Holly asked. As Vivian shook her head, the boys took their cue and grabbed the empty pizza boxes to bring into the kitchen.

  “Thanks for the pizza, Vivian,” Marshall said on his way to the room he shared with Connor.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Connor said.

  “You’re very welcome, boys,” Vivian said, smiling at them, her chin suddenly quivering.

  “Is anything wrong?” Holly said, putting a hand on Vivian’s forehead as if she might have a fever. It worried her to see Vivian’s emotions so close to the surface. “You seem upset.”

  “I’m not upset. Could you get me a tissue?”

  Holly grabbed the box on Vivian’s tray and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “Do you need to blow?”

  “A little.”

  Holly held the tissue firmly under Vivian’s nose as Vivian weakly pushed air through her nasal passages. When Holly took the tissue away, Vivi
an sniffed loudly.

  “They’re such nice boys,” Vivian said. “When Connor came home from school, he told me all about his science project, and Marshall played me a little song on his trumpet just before we got the pizza.”

  “That’s so nice to hear,” Holly said. “They’re not always so polite, so it’s nice to know they can behave when I’m not around.”

  “You have so much,” Vivian said, sniffing again. “You think you don’t, but you do. I hope you realize that.”

  Lately, she had been so conscious of her own sense of diminution—a husband who didn’t live to see forty, a house she couldn’t afford to keep, a job she loved disappearing out from under her, the sense of sliding down the chute after her parents had climbed the ladder—that she hadn’t been able to appreciate what she still had. “It’s all relative,” her mother used to say.

  “I know,” she said, tearing up herself. “I’m a very lucky woman.”

  Then Holly’s phone rang. It was a number she didn’t expect to see.

  “It’s Racine,” she said.

  “Take it,” Vivian said. “I’m fine. You should talk to him.”

  Holly checked Vivian’s eyes, which were dry, and took the phone, still ringing, to the corner of the room near a window that looked out into Vivian’s side yard. Snow was falling again, and trees were starting to bend and wave in the wind.

  “Hello,” she said quietly.

  “Holly? It’s Racine.”

  “I didn’t know if I would hear from you again. When you left my house, you didn’t look back.”

  “I thought you needed that time with your family. I felt like I was intruding.”

  “You weren’t intruding, Racine. You really weren’t.”

  A silence ensued, and Holly briefly wondered if Racine had put his phone down and walked away. Then she heard a sigh.

  “I really need to see you,” Racine said. “Can you meet me at the diner?”

  Holly looked at her watch. It was close to nine.

  “I’m in charge of Vivian,” she said. “I can’t leave the house before ten.”

  “I’ll come over there. What’s the address?”

  Holly didn’t want to have a private discussion with Racine in Vivian’s presence and didn’t want to sneak him into her bedroom with the boys in the house.

  “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

  “No, it can’t. I leave in the morning for New York.”

  “But everyone’s here.”

  “I’ll meet you right outside. The snow’s falling. It’s a beautiful night.”

  “I can’t talk for more than a few minutes.”

  “I’ll make it fast.”

  Holly gave Racine the address. Vivian had her eyes closed and appeared to be drifting off. Holly walked down the short hallway and knocked softly on the door of the boys’ room.

  “Marshall,” she said, opening the door. “I need to have you sit with Vivian for a few minutes. I’ll be right outside, and she’s asleep. You just need to make sure she doesn’t choke or anything.”

  Marshall was sitting on his bed surrounded by open books and note cards. He had an old laptop his friend had given him propped on his outstretched legs.

  “Mom, I’ve got a history paper due tomorrow, and I’m right in the middle of it. Can’t Connor do it?”

  Connor was lying on his stomach reading a gaming magazine. He got up reluctantly and followed Holly back to the living room.

  “Now, all you have to do is sit here on the couch,” she said. “If Vivian starts to choke or make noises, you run right outside and yell for me.”

  “Okay,” he said, flipping the magazine open again. “I’ll find you.”

  Racine called again to say he was outside. Holly put on her coat, changed into old snow boots, and added mittens, a wool hat, and a scarf. As she opened the door, she could hear the wind, which sounded like a tin whistle. Racine was a shadow in the distance, the only moving object in her field of vision.

  She walked down Vivian’s front path and met him on the sidewalk.

  “It’s fantastic, isn’t it? All this snow?” he said, winding her scarf once more around her neck. “Are you cold?”

  “It’s the wind,” she said, inexplicably out of breath, struck by how serene his face looked in the moonlight with the snow catching on his eyelashes. “Where’s your car?”

  “I walked over from the diner. It’s just a few blocks.”

  “Let’s go sit in the bus shelter. It’s right there on the corner. At least it’s out of the wind.”

  Holly looked back toward the house and in the light from the living-room window saw the outline of Vivian’s iron lung. They walked to the corner and sat on the bench inside the shelter, which was painted on its three sides with murals done by the middle school art students. Holly herself had covered the story of its creation.

  Racine took Holly’s mittened hands in his bare ones. “The thing is,” he started, “I thought I was ready to move on, now that I’m free of the gold business. I thought I’d do what I always do and look for a new town, a new state, maybe even a new country. In my whole adult life I’ve never lived anywhere for more than a year or two.”

  Holly reached out with one of her mittens and brushed some snow from Racine’s hair before it could drip onto his face. She nodded for him to continue.

  “But there’s something about this place. I don’t feel that itch to start over again. I feel at home here. People are actually nice to each other. Look at how you all take care of Vivian. You don’t have to do that—she’s not related to you—but you’re committed to her. I find that remarkable.”

  The wind had gone from tin whistle to bassoon. Holly saw several porch lights come on as people looked out at the storm from the warmth of their houses. She felt oddly exhilarated to be inside the storm—in the eye, as it were—as the snow and wind blew around them.

  “So,” Racine continued, “I did something I probably should have told you about before, and that’s why I needed to talk to you tonight.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I talked to Vivian, and we canvassed her caregiver network. Then we created a website so that people in town could contribute to a fund to buy your newspaper from the chain—for a song, by the way. They jumped on it. No one wanted the Chronicle to close. I can help you get it up to speed with an online presence, but it’s yours to run. As long as it breaks even, you can keep publishing.”

  Holly looked out at the snow, which made her dizzy as she viewed it through a prism of tears. Did the universe suddenly decide she deserved a break? That she would be allowed to stay employed, at least, instead of facing the vast, black unknown of a paycheck-less future? That she could keep her kids housed, clothed, and fed?

  “Do they realize,” she said, “that this business has no future? That’s what everyone says anyway. And if you’ll help me, does that mean you’re going to stay?”

  Racine blinked and leaned closer so she could hear him over the wind. “I just bought the Dunkin’ Donuts franchise on Main Street,” he said. “You’re stuck with me.”

  Holly pulled his face closer to hers, a mitten on either ear. “Are you sure you want that?” She felt warm inside, even as the tip of her nose froze in the cold night air.

  Racine kissed her. “You let me in here. You made me feel like part of this. And the time we had in New York. I don’t know what it was, but I can’t stop thinking about it. That’s all anyone wants, Holly. To find that . . .”

  As Racine searched for the right word, Holly suddenly heard a voice cutting through the wind. She got up from the bench and ran outside the bus shelter to see that the lights were now completely dark on Vivian’s street. Her view had been blocked by the mural.

  “Mom! Mom!”

  Connor was leaning outside Vivian’s front door, screaming into the snow and the wind and the dark night.

  “Help! The power’s out! What do I do?”

  Holly took lunging footsteps to cut across the snow on the
lawn to Vivian’s front door, with Racine right behind her. When she came inside, she heard Marshall on the phone with the police. It somehow seemed darker inside than it did outside.

  “No, the generator didn’t come on,” he said, his voice rising to a frantic pitch. “And she can’t breathe.”

  Holly ran to a drawer in the kitchen that she knew had a flashlight.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “How could this happen?”

  Holly shone the flashlight onto Vivian’s face, which looked contorted and blue. Her eyes were shut tight.

  “The generator,” Holly said. “It’s brand-new. Why isn’t it working?”

  She looked toward it and saw that the cord had been pulled out from the wall. She ran over to plug it back in. Before she inserted it, she looked back at Vivian, whose eyes were now open wide. Vivian shook her head deliberately, her eyes pleading with Holly. The message was clear, but Holly turned back to the outlet, her hand hovering, shaking, just above it with the plug.

  “I have to, Vivian,” she said, crying. She looked back at Vivian. “I have to. I can’t let you go.”

  Vivian let out a strangled cry. “Please,” she said, her voice just a rasp. “I can’t.”

  Holly shook her head, pushing the plug halfway, then she stopped. She hung her head, defeated, and pulled it out again, dropping the cord.

  Vivian gasped for air, and Holly ran over, taking Vivian’s head in her hands. Vivian looked up at her. Her face was pinched and contorted, and yet her eyes told Holly that she needed a way out.

  “Thank . . . you,” Vivian said, hoarsely expelling the last of her breath. She closed her eyes, and her face finally relaxed as Holly stood sobbing, tears dripping down onto Vivian’s now-slack cheeks.

  The sirens cut through the sound of the wind as police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks all converged on Vivian’s house. The paramedics came in first and put a portable oxygen mask on Vivian’s face, though Holly knew that was pointless without the machine pumping at her lungs. The firemen went right to the generator.