by Holt, S. w.
With things starting to look up, I haven’t spent as much time feeling sorry for myself as in the beginning. The headaches have eased up and fewer tears.
I started meeting with Ryan for coffee after I drop Charlie off twice a week for the last several weeks. The first few times we met, it was about comparing notes and commiserating how we both have been wronged. But after a few gripe sessions, it became evident that we weren’t going to get anywhere with that kind of indulgent misery. In fact, I started to find it to be dreadful. So last week when I suggested we not meet he didn’t respond well.
“No! You can't cancel on me.” He shouts.
“Wow Ryan, lower your voice, I'll not tolerate you yelling at me.”
He is silent for a moment.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have raised my voice. It's just that I really need a friend right now. I promise that it won't turn into another ex-bashing party. My buddies don't have much to offer in the way of moral support. You know that. It's not dissimilar to your friends telling you what to do with your love life.”
“Well, I can assure you that yelling at me is not the answer, you could have said that to me to begin with.” I huff.
“I know, I really am sorry. I'm just so frustrated these days. I think what annoys me the most is that they have moved on and we, well...I...have not.”
I feel myself softening because I too share that frustration.
“You have to give it some time. You were with Amelia about the same amount of time I was with Marcus. I just think that this will take some time to get used to. Be thankful you weren’t married with assets and a child to sort out.”
“You have a point there. So why don’t we change things up and do dinner or something instead of coffee?”
“Fine, if you promise to not make it another pity party. Maybe you can come over for dinner next Tuesday. Charlie has a Cub Scout activity so I'm solo for most the evening.”
“Great! What can I bring...some wine maybe?” The overt eagerness that is evident in his voice alarms me.
“Sure, maybe bring a bottle of red but Ryan, you do know this is just two friends hanging out...nothing more right?”
He laughs, “Of course, what else would I think it to be? I'm not that presumptive Delaney. So, I'll come by after work?”
“Sounds good...and I know you aren’t that presumptive but I also know how my invitation could be misinterpreted. Anyway, have a good weekend in San Diego, I'll see you Tuesday.”
After we hang up, I realize how that all must have sounded to him. I shrug, no matter I suppose it's best to be clear about my intentions before I'm faced with an awkward situation.
My phone is buzzing and I see that it's Marcus. I dread answering it and for a moment ignore the call knowing full well there is going to be an argument. That's the only way that we communicate these days. There' are no civil discussions, it's all fueled by animosity and resentment. Though I hardly see why he should feel any of that toward me. I'm the innocent party in all this misery that he has induced.
Instead of the pleasantries I cut straight into the call.
“What is it Marcus?” I snip.
“No. Let's try this again. When you answer, you say hello. Then I reply to you by saying hi Delaney.” His tone condescending.
“Knock it off Marcus, what do you need?”
“Well, if you remember, I was planning to be by tomorrow evening for dinner again and to pick up the little man. I've had something with business come up but I was hoping I could get him Sunday morning and I'll spend the whole day with him.”
“You know that he's going to be disappointed. It’s become our Friday ritual, he has come to look forward to one day a week we are together as a family, no matter it's broken.” My voices drops.
“Look I don’t need you trying to guilt me. I know that he looks forward to it, but you are good at smoothing out the wrinkles, just offer up something as an alternative. Have him ready by ten for me on Sunday.”
“I never said I would smooth out the wrinkles for you Marcus. You need to tell him yourself!” I spat.
“Calm yourself Delaney.” He scolds.
“I'm perfectly calm, you just forget Charlie is a lot more sensitive and aware of what's going on. We both need to give him more credit than we do. You can call and speak to him after he's home from school.”
“I'll try but I can't promise...”
I cut him off, “Just call him sometime today Marcus. I have to go.” I don't wait for his response. Instead, I hang up the phone with steam practically coming out of my ears.
Where did this man come from? I've never known him to be so callous toward his son. Charlie has always been the focus of his attention. What has changed? Can it be the effect of Amelia's influence? I sure as hell hope not!
Early Saturday morning I wake up to the sun shining in my room, illuminating it like I am floating on the wing of an airplane above the clouds. I lie staring at the ceiling while the birds chirp and the sounds of the ocean off in the distance beckon to me.
My moment of happiness is cut short with the sound of Charlie coughing and wheezing. I hear it all the way in my room which alarms me. Springing out of bed I tie my silk robe around me as I hurry down the hall. He's still coughing and sputtering as I come through the door, his face is purple and blue. Rushing to his bedside table, I grab his inhaler and bring it to him as he is hunched on the floor with the small robot Grant gave him happily charging ahead on the floor beside him.
“Charlie, use your inhaler honey.” I insist.
Taking it from me, he nods and takes a deep breath using the inhaler followed by two more stabilizing breaths. He is still coughing, but the color in his face is now pink from the force of coughing but no longer blue from lack of air.
“Go ahead and take another spritz, okay?”
He nods and repeats the process. Once the coughing has subsided, I take him into my arms and squeeze him tightly while I murmur, “My poor baby.”
Looking up into my face with his big wide blue peepers, he says in a strained voice, “I'm okay Mommy, don't cry.” Then his little hand wipes away a couple of stray tears that escaped.
I feel guilty because my little son should not have to wipe away my tears.
I cheerfully say, “Well I'm glad. Now, how would you like to go to the beach this afternoon then we can go to the club for an early dinner afterward? You might even get to take a swim if you play your cards right.”
He claps his hands together, “Yay! Can I bring my robot to the beach?”
Shaking my head, “No honey I don't think his little gears are sand friendly.” The smile on his face falls, “But, why don't you pack it in your bag and you can play with it at the club at the table if that suits you.”
The little arms wrapped around my midsection tighten as he squeals his approval.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, Charlie?”
“Since Daddy has new plans today can you invite the guy who gave me the robot?” I shoot him a raised eyebrow.
“You want to invite Grant?”
“Yes. I like how he talks funny.” He smiles as he begins packing his bag with his version of beach essentials like a bag of Legos, a tiny bouncy ball, and his Minecraft Enderman doll. I giggle inwardly knowing I will need to pack a better beach bag for him.
“Well let me get my phone and I'll ask him to join us but please don't be too disappointed if he can't make it. Grant is a busy man who I bet usually has plans weeks in advance.”
He shrugs, “That's okay. Ask anyway.”
“You're right.”
Smiling as I walk down the hallway, I don't know what I ever did to deserve such a marvelous ray of sunshine in my life. Charlie is without a doubt the most remarkable person I will ever be lucky enough to know.
Early afternoon, we are pulling into the driveway of Grant's home at the end of a cul-de-sac that is situated beachfront overlooking the beautiful Pacific Ocean. When I called to invite him to join us, he surprised me an
d asked us to come to his house instead of going to the public beach. I jumped at the chance knowing full well that Charlie would think it was awesome.
Laden with beach gear, we wander up the walkway to the modern front door. The house is rather like an enormous multilevel cement box with white metal railings and tinted floor to ceiling reflective windows. The sleek ultra-modern architecture is certainly not my taste, but it screams Grant loud and clear.
To our surprise, our host doesn’t answer the door but instead a woman who looks to be in her late fifties or early sixties at best, who lets us in through the glass doors. She politely leads us through the house to the main level balcony where Grant is pacing back and forth talking to someone on the phone in an animated manner. At first we hang back at the doorway not wanting to intrude but when he sees us, he smiles his wide toothy grin and motions for us to come out. The table is set with lemonade and chocolate chip cookies that from appearances, are clearly homemade.
The woman who showed us says from behind me, “Can I offer you anything stronger to drink?” She says in a cut-glass accent that is so thick she sounds as if she literally just got off the plane from Ireland this morning.
When I turn around to face her, I notice how beautiful she is with bright green eyes set against the shock of white hair that is cut in a neat bob. She is smiling and her eyes are dancing. I know instantly that she must be closely related to Grant.
“Thank you for offering but I had better stick with the Lemonade,” I say as I finish setting my things down on the deck by the glass railing.
She smiles a familiar toothy grin, “Let me know should you change your mind. Excuse me won't you?”
I nod and watch her disappear back through the door. Turning around I lock eyes with Grant, who is at the end of the balcony leaning on the glass with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet casually crossed at his ankles. To say I feel awkward is a gross understatement.
“So you met my mother did you?” He asks without changing his gaze which further encourages my feeling uncomfortable.
“Well not exactly. She showed us out here then offered me a stiff drink, but we didn't officially meet. I just knew that she's your mother though! You bear a strong resemblance.”
His smile widens but the smolder in his eyes deepens, “And what was your first clue? Was it her eyes or perhaps maybe her accent?” He chuckles.
I tilt my head at him realizing he is chiding me, “Well I thought it was her quick wit and sharp tongue.”
“Ha ha, yes I suppose that would be a fair assessment too. She is paying me a visit for a while. My father is too ill to join her this time. I suppose that means a trip back home for me is in the near future.”
I look over at Charlie happily gnawing at his cookie and slurping his lemonade through an enormous green straw.
“May I ask what illness?” I inquire cautiously.
“He has Alzheimer’s. He's in the early stages so he's remains lucid most of the time. I just fear for when the time comes that he doesn’t know any of us. I know my mother worries about what she will do once he has gone. She's still young and has a long life ahead of her being only in their early sixties.”
“I'm so sorry Grant. That's got to be hard for you and your family.” I reply solemnly.
“Thanks. It came as a great shock to us, my father has always been the epitome of health and is rather active.” He pauses and laughs, “Almost to a fault, in fact. The man rarely holds still for very long. My mom has always joked that we'll never find moss growing on my father's ears.”
He looks toward the ocean as the last of his words drop.
I can see in his eyes how the pain from his father's illness is affecting him.
“So if he's in the early stages, wouldn’t he be manageable enough for his being able to travel out here or does it not work like that? I'm not very knowledgeable about the disease so please pardon my ignorance.”
He laughs but the look on his face is anything but amusement, “That's just the problem. So little is known about the disease so chances are good that you know as much as I. Though he is lucid most of the time, he gets confused easily and is frequently angry. That is completely normal but it's hard for my mother because he never used to be a cross person but now he's cranky if not mean to her. The last time I was out for a visit about three months ago, I could see the signs that his illness is beginning to wear on her. The next time I go, I will help my mother get him settled into a memory care facility.”
I flinch and frown. An involuntary reaction.
“I know it sounds wrong to dump my father off in a facility but it's actually what he wants. When he was diagnosed, that was the first thing he told us. He said that once he started becoming a burden on my mother he wants to be moved to a place where they are equipped to handle his illness.”
“That was very thoughtful of your father, always thinking of me.” His mother's voice says from behind us.
He looks toward the door smiling, “Mother, I didn’t see you standing there. Please, take that apron off and come out to join us.”
“I would love to join you but I have things to tend to inside. I just wanted to see if you required anything?”
Before Grant answers, she turns to Charlie, “How is the lemonade Lad?”
He looks up at her smiling, “You sound funny...just like Grant.”
Clearing my throat his eyes dart to look at me then he addresses Grant's mother again.
“Oh and the lemonade is yummy. It's better than mommy's!” He says far too enthusiastically.
Smiling with her eyes she looks at me as if she were looking into my soul. Usually that would be disconcerting but she is so warm, it doesn’t bother me.
“I must take that as a compliment then. My ill-mannered son hasn’t properly introduced us so I will take the lead, my name is Margaret Rupert but please call me Maggie.” She turns to Charlie, “You may call me Miss M for short if you tell me your name.”
He grins. “I'm Charlie and you can just call me Charlie.”
We all laugh then producing my hand, “I'm Delaney, and it’s a pleasure to meet you finally after all these years.”
She looks surprised, “Oh, have you known my son long? He doesn’t tell me much about his private life.”
He clears his throat, “Mother, this is Delaney Lancaster, my old business partner Marcus Lancaster's wife.”
“Oh, that's peculiar.” She says with obvious confusion on her face.
“We are separated...soon to dissolve matters,” I say looking at Charlie then back to her. “Oh and perhaps you aren't aware that Grant is Charlie's godfather?”
“Yes, it's all coming back to me. I think I got it and now I do remember hearing your name here and there. It's a shame that things didn’t work out with Grant and your husband. It seems maybe your husband has a hard time keeping his significant partnerships intact.”
I chuckle, “You are totally correct. Unfortunately, he does as he pleases and doesn’t concern himself with the collateral damage left in his wake.” I nod toward Charlie again.
“As true of an assessment as that may be, I also believe that it has been a blessing for me. Chances are, you too will find that you’re far better off, in the long run.” Grant says looking me directly in the eyes.
I wonder to myself if that will be true.
Maggie claps her hands together, “I suspect this young lad would rather be in the sand frolicking than listening to this adult chatter. Why don’t I take him down while you two finish your conversation?”
“Oh we are finished, I wouldn’t mind getting my toes in the sand either. Besides, Charlie and I make pretty spectacular sandcastle building partners.” I turn to Grant, “Care to join us?”
He looks up from his phone, “Let me just wrap this up and I'll be right down to join the sandcastle challenge.”
As we follow Maggie down the stairs toward the beach, I look back over my shoulder and feel a wave of electricity travel down to my core when I lock e
yes with Grant. He is still standing at his perch gazing at me with hunger in his eyes.
Apparently he feels the attraction too. Or maybe he's only taking pity on yet another of Marcus's victims? Is it too soon to test that out? Am I even ready?
Chapter Eleven
While building sand castles, watching Charlie chase after seagulls and dipping my toes into the chilly Pacific Ocean is fun, after four hours straight, I'm ready to call it a day.
“Charlie! Time to pack up little bear.” I sing-song.
“Awe Mom, can't we play a little longer?” He whines.
I shake my head no, “Sorry buddy, we have probably overstayed our welcome as it is, besides, we have dinner at the club.”
