Unconditional

by Linda Rettstatt

  The priest took over at the microphone and tried to restore order.

  I grabbed Mom by the hand and led her out of the pew and down the aisle. Audrey trotted behind us.

  We reached the parking lot to discover that the car was blocked in by a second row of vehicles lined up for the procession to the cemetery. “Now we’ll have to wait until they all come out of church,” Audrey said.

  “Could this day get any worse?” I climbed into the back seat of Audrey’s car.

  Audrey chuckled. “Not unless you stand too close to the open grave at the cemetery.”

  Mom turned in her seat. “Why would your client say such a thing about you? Did you counsel her husband, too?”

  “No. I didn’t counsel her or her husband. This was all a misunderstanding.” I closed my eyes and let my head drop back against the cool leather seat. “Let’s just go home as soon as these cars start to move.”

  A sharp tapping on the window demanded my attention. The former Mrs. Stanley Porcopski glowered, red-faced, outside my car window. Before I could lower the window to try to explain, one of her sons cast me a piercing look and then put an arm around her to lead her to the waiting limo at the front of the line.

  I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have a confession.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I don’t know why I do it. I just…do it. Kat thinks it’s my way of dealing with my own grief over Thomas.” We decided to forego the cemetery scene and have an early lunch.

  My mother nodded at me from the other side of the booth we occupied at Wendy’s. “I understand, honey. I’m not at all surprised.”

  Audrey’s mouth gaped open. “You’re not? Because I’m very surprised.”

  Mom turned in her seat to face Audrey. “You shouldn’t be. I did the same thing, and I took both of you with me on more than one occasion.”

  I waved a hand in front of me. “Wait. You mean those weren’t all friends and relatives?”

  She laughed. “No. Good heavens, I didn’t have that many relatives. Or friends, for that matter. I tried to go to those funerals by myself, but there were a couple of times when I had no one to keep you girls. You didn’t seem to mind. You both had a lot of questions.”

  “And now I have a few more,” I said. “Like…well…for starters—why?”

  “When my parents both died in an accident, I was still young. I had just married your father. It was hard to sit in that funeral home and look at both of my parents in those caskets. But, then, I looked around at all the people who had come—friends from high school, people from the old neighborhood as well as the neighbors your father and I had only just met. And then your father’s family arrived, everyone from his parents to third cousins.”

  She took a sip of her Coke. “It meant so much to me, and I didn’t feel alone anymore. Each one of those people was a comforting presence. I joined the Ladies of Charity in the parish, and one of things we did was to attend all of the funerals. The families seemed to appreciate it, and I realized how good I felt to be able to give them that comfort. I had a purpose besides being a wife and mother. When I started to feel down or to feel as if something was missing in my life, I would go to a funeral. Then I felt I had done some good for someone else.”

  Mom picked up a French fry, dunked it in ketchup, and popped it into her mouth. “Don’t tell me you girls forgot.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t forget. I never made the connection. You always said you were going to the funeral of a friend or a cousin. What about when your aunts and uncles died? Were they relatives or—”

  “Some of them had been my parents’ friends so, in a sense, they were my aunts and uncles.”

  Audrey continued to stare at Mom as if she had sprouted a second head.

  My mother dabbed her mouth with a napkin and crinkled the paper from her chicken sandwich. “Meg, after you go to a funeral, how do you feel?”

  Uh-oh, my mother, the therapist was open for business. “I...uh…sometimes I cry and then I feel better, I guess. A few times, people have thanked me for coming.”

  Audrey turned her head so that her stare locked onto me. “You’re both crazy.”

  I frowned. “You know, not so much. Mom has a good point. I may start assigning funeral attendance to my clients with grief issues. It sure does work for me. And now it makes more sense. I’d forgotten about all the funerals we went to when we were kids.”

  My mother flashed a satisfied smile. “Maybe I should have been a therapist.”

  “Maybe you should have, Mom.” I gathered up our empty food wrappers onto my tray. “You two ready to go home?”

  Mom picked up her purse. “You girls go ahead to the car. I’m going to stop in the ladies room first.”

  Audrey walked beside me. “Meg, I don’t exactly remember going to those funerals as a kid.”

  “You don’t? Well, I didn’t think of it, either, until Mom brought it up.”

  “What was with that woman accusing you of having an affair with her husband?”

  “Now that was uncomfortable. Her whole family thinks I’m having Stanley’s baby.”

  She grinned. “Maybe he left you a little something in the will. College fund, perhaps?”

  I smacked her arm as we got to the car. But then my mind went back to something my mother had said—she went to funerals when she felt down or when she felt something was missing from her life. I had always thought of her as a happy wife and mother, satisfied with life. What if that had not always been true? I’d never imagined my mother being anything but fulfilled by her life.

  ~ * ~

  When we left my house, my father was happily repairing the flush mechanism in the powder room toilet. We returned home to find only a note: Had to take care of something. Be back soon.

  I checked the powder room. The toilet was reassembled. “Looks like he finished the repair, so he’s not at a hardware store. I wonder where he went.”

  “He’s probably out catching up with some of his old friends. Don’t worry, he’ll be back by supper time. Your father never misses a meal.” Mom sat down on the sofa. “Whew, I’m worn out.”

  “Go to my room and lie down for a while, Mom,” I said.

  “Maybe I will.” She slowly rose and shuffled down the hall.

  Audrey and I stared after her.

  “Should we be worried? I don’t ever remember Mom taking a nap in the afternoon,” Audrey said.

  “She’ll be okay. She’s not pushing herself, at least.”

  “You look like you could use a nap yourself,” Audrey said. “You take the sofa. I’ll take the recliner.”

  It wasn’t long before Audrey snored softly in the living room and my mother snored not-so-softly in my bedroom. I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t heard from Thomas for three days, not since I had not returned one of his calls. I knew the day would come when we’d have a stand-off. I sat up and reached for my purse, extracting my cell. No waiting messages.

  I carried the phone with me to the back porch, struggling with the urge to call Thomas, and struggling against the urge to call Thomas. I finally set the phone on the patio table and put my feet up. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind.

  Footsteps tapped across the kitchen’s tile floor and the screen door creaked open. My father quietly closed the door and sat in the chair beside mine. “I didn’t think you three would get back so soon.”

  “I know. We decided not to go to the cemetery.”

  “How come?”

  “Uh… Oh, long story. We had lunch instead. Where were you?”

  “Took care of some business I’ve been meaning to get to.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “The unfinished kind.”

  My cell phone buzzed on the table. I picked it up. “Dad, this is Thomas. I need to take this.”

  “Don’t. We need to talk first.”

  Without speaking into the phone, I snapped it shut. “Talk about what?”

  My father squirmed in h
is chair, diverting his gaze to some point in my back yard. “I went to have a chat with Thomas this afternoon.”

  “Oh, Daddy. Why?”

  “Why? Because you’re my daughter, and he hurt you. He destroyed your life.”

  “He didn’t destroy my life. My dreams, maybe. But now I have the baby, so—”

  “And that’s another thing. If he thinks putting together a crib and buying a few other pieces of furniture is all it takes to be a father, he’s mistaken. He should be here to help. He should walk the floor with his child at night, change diapers, get up for feedings. I did all of those things with both of you girls. You shouldn’t be the only one to bear the responsibility.”

  I nodded. “Dad, it’s going to be okay.” Though I had to admit I’d harbored the same thoughts. I wouldn’t have someone there to rub my feet or even just reassure me I still had feet when I could no longer see them. No one to soothe a crying baby while I caught a nap.

  His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Meggie, I see the pain and disappointment in your face, and it kills me that I can’t take that away. Your mother and I fly back to Florida tomorrow, and I couldn’t leave here without letting Thomas know what a weasel I think he is.”

  I reached for his hand. “Thanks, Daddy.” Then I began to laugh. “Did you really call him a weasel?”

  He smiled. “Only to you. To his face, I called him much worse.” He stood and nodded at my phone. “I’m sure he was calling to report me. Call him back if you want. I’m going to check on your mother.”

  Stopping in the open doorway, he turned and asked, “Did you really take all the furniture and then change the security code at the house?”

  I nodded. “Well, I didn’t take all the furniture.”

  My father grinned. “That’s my girl.” The door bumped closed behind him.

  I rolled the cell phone around in my palm. I was dying to know exactly what my father had said to Thomas, but my calling him would give Thomas the upper hand. I turned off the phone.

  “Screw him.”

  ~ * ~

  The following afternoon, I delivered my parents to the airport. My mother clung to me longer than usual as we said our goodbye at the curb while a security cop blew her whistle and waved for me to move the car.

  “I’ve got to go, Mom. Call so I know you made it home okay.”

  She smiled and patted my cheek. “See, you’re going to be a wonderful mother. We’ll be back before the baby comes.” She squeezed me once again. “I can’t wait to be a grandma.”

  The cop’s whistle shrilled and she glared at me. I waved and opened my car door to let her know I was going to move. “I’ll talk to you later. Bye, Daddy.” I gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  When I stopped for a light before turning toward my house, my cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen, though I knew by the new ring tone—What’s Love Got to Do With It?—that it was Thomas calling. I let it go to voicemail when the light turned green. I’d stopped talking on the phone while driving, something I’d not given a second thought before my pregnancy. But it wasn’t safe, and I wouldn’t put the baby in any danger.

  Inside the house, I dropped my keys on the table and listened to Thomas’s message. He wanted to go to my next doctor’s appointment with me. We’d decided to find out the baby’s gender. I pressed call back. “Thomas, hey. My appointment’s Thursday at four. If you can’t make it, I understand.”

  “I’ll be there. So, how are you doing?”

  “I’m okay. How are you?”

  “Let’s see. Your father came to my office and confronted me. You wouldn’t believe his vocabulary. You never called me back and haven’t taken my calls for two days. I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Okay. I’ve been worried about the baby.”

  “What did my Dad say to you?”

  “You don’t want to know. Most of what he said is true, I guess, except for suggesting I didn’t have any regard for your feelings. You know that’s not true, Meg. In your heart, you know that.”

  “My heart. Yes, well…my heart seems to be having a hard time right now distinguishing fact from fiction. Hope he didn’t make too much of a scene.” But I smiled and gave a fist pump with my free hand. Go, Dad.

  “No. We spoke in my office, the door was closed. It wasn’t a shouting match. He simply said what he had to say. I have a lot of respect for your father. He loves you very much.”

  “Yes, he does. See you Thursday. I have to go.”

  “Wait. Are you planning to work through the entire pregnancy?”

  “Uh…yeah. Pretty much have to.”

  “Meg, don’t push yourself too hard.”

  Easy for you to say. I have to pay rent. “It’s not exactly strenuous work. I sit and listen.”

  “It’s emotionally taxing. I don’t want you to get upset.”

  “You…huh?” I doubted a patient could tell me anything that would rival the absurdity of Thomas’s comment. “Wait. You don’t want me to get upset? Did you really just say that?”

  “You know what I mean. Will you have dinner with me after the doctor’s visit? We can talk about baby names, since we’ll know the sex.”

  “I’ll think about it. I’ll see you on Thursday.” I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to let go of my anger just yet. I was pretty sure having dinner with Thomas was not a good idea. That, of course, didn’t mean I wouldn’t do it. I wanted to smack myself.

  I’d never been so confused about my feelings. In the kitchen, I poured a glass of water, and carried it to the small back porch. I set the glass on the café table and dropped into the wicker rocker. I needed to clear my head and get my thoughts straight.

  My feelings for Thomas and my thoughts about our relationship tumbled around like loose change in the clothes dryer. I shut my eyes and drew in a breath. Had I forgiven Thomas? No, but I would. I would because, despite everything, I loved him. Not as a husband. Not anymore. But as someone who knew me through and through. I would forgive him for the sake of our child. Eventually.

  I rolled my shoulders to release the tension locked there and imagined releasing my anger. Without my shield of rage, vulnerability made me tremble. Finally, I admitted that my heart was broken. Thomas had been my prince, my one true love. We had a fairytale courtship and marriage. And now my prince was with…his prince. Oh, God. How could I have been so blind?

  I heard my name and looked up to see Shay in her back yard. I waved to her. When she headed my way, I quickly wiped my eyes.

  Shay narrowed her eyes and gazed at me. “Your parents leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah. That explains the tears.”

  “Yeah. That…and other things.”

  “Thomas?”

  “I feel as though I’ve been hanging by a delicate thread reinforced by anger. I need to be able to at least talk with Thomas, but I’m so afraid to let go of the anger. It’s the only thing I have to protect me.”

  “What does it protect you from?”

  “The truth, I suppose. The pain, perhaps.” I sniffled. “My dad went to Thomas’s office yesterday and told him off.”

  “You’re kidding. Gotta love your dad.”

  “He didn’t tell me exactly what he said, and Thomas wouldn’t, either. I can only imagine. I want to start looking toward the future, you know. And I can’t do that if I hang onto my anger with Thomas. I just don’t want to let him off the hook so easily. But my being upset is not good for the baby. I’ve wanted to be pregnant for the last couple of years, and if I obsess about Thomas, I’ll rob myself of the joy I should be experiencing.”

  “Choosing to let go of your anger doesn’t have to free Thomas of responsibility. It just frees you.”

  I laughed. “Are you sure you’re not a therapist? That sounds like something I’d say to a client.”

  “Maybe I missed my calling. What are you doing for dinner tonight?”

  “Leftovers.”

  “No. Maurice is bringing home
a bucket of KFC with the fixings. Come over and join us.”

  “I don’t know. I won’t be very good company.”

  She rose and brushed off her jeans. “Just come. Around six? Or earlier, if you want to. He’ll be glued to the TV to watch the baseball game. The playoffs are on. We can talk in the kitchen.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She sauntered back to her yard and resumed her task. I was grateful for the invitation. It would be good to be with friends this evening. I smiled at the realization that Shay and Maurice had become my new friends. In some way, they symbolized a step forward into what would become my life. I went inside and searched the cupboards for a box of brownie mix. I could at least make dessert.

  ~ * ~

  Following dinner, Shay and I sat at the kitchen table with our dessert. A shout from the living room let us know the Pirates were winning. Maurice strode into the kitchen to retrieve a fresh beer from the fridge. He planted a kiss on Shay’s cheek and picked up a brownie from the pan. “These are delicious, by the way.” Loud cheers emanated from the TV and Maurice hustled back inside, then shouted, “Yes! Pirates score.”

  “He’s a great guy, Shay.”

  “Yes, he is. You deserve a man like Maurice. But he’s taken.”

  I smiled. “Aw, dang. Does he have a brother?”

  “No, just two sisters.”

  “Do you have a brother?”

  “Sorry—only child. I have a cousin, C-Boy.”

  “C-Boy? As in Cowboy?”

  “No. As in Calvin-Boy. His name is Calvin. He’s a wannabe rap star. No future.”

  “No future? That’s harsh. What if he becomes a big star? I could have bling.”

  Shay shook her head and laughed. “Girl, you are too much. But I’m glad to see you smiling.” She studied my face. “So, how’re you doing, really?”

  I sighed. “Really? I’m an emotional ping pong ball. I think about the baby coming and I’m so excited and happy. Then there are nights when the hormones jack up my libido and I could just crawl out of my skin. And it pisses me off that other women have a husband there and where’s my husband? Oh, that’s right. He’s living with his boyfriend.”