The Art of Breathing

by Janie DeVos

  Grabbing a handful of rags from the closet, I quickly wet them, then handed all of the items up to him. A radio had been left playing on one of the shelves in front of Philip, and he turned the volume up. The Alan Freed show was on; a repeat broadcast from Saturday night.

  It was one of the most popular forms of entertainment for us, especially with the advent of the new rock ’n’ roll craze. And one of the biggest breakthrough artists was Elvis Presley, whose wildly popular hit “That’s All Right” was presently playing. Philip began to sing along, though it was more of a hum than actual singing. “That guy is good! I like this new music okay, especially ol’ Elvis, here, but you can’t hang on to your sweetheart with this new stuff like you can with doo-wop or jitterbug music.”

  Distracted by my own thoughts, I didn’t hear what-all he said, so I answered with a noncommittal “Uh-huh.”

  He glanced down at me from the ladder. “You were quiet today, Kate. Something bothering you?” He turned his attention back to the heater again.

  “I’m just worried about Donnie. Mama and I talked earlier, to confirm what time everyone’ll be here. Tomorrow’s the day my folks bring Donnie back from his summer stay with them, and Geoffrey’s coming over from Cabot to pick him up. School starts in a little over a week. I spoke to the poor little fella and asked him if he’s excited about starting the first grade and he began crying. Said he wanted to stay with my folks. I tried to convince him that he’ll love his new school, and told him he’d have fun bein’ home with his daddy again, but I knew I wasn’t convincing him. Shoot! I’m not convinced myself! Anyway, when Mama got back on the phone, she said he’d been crying all week. Said he keeps sayin’ he doesn’t want to leave. I’m just sick about it. The worst part is that I promised I’d be there to take him to his classroom on the first day of school, and now I’m gonna have to break that promise. It’s the first time I won’t be keeping a promise to him!” I choked up. I turned away from Philip and pretended to busy myself with the plants on one of the long tables, trying to pull myself together.

  “If this is the first time you’ve broken a promise, then you deserve the Mother of the Year award, Kate! Listen, when a promise isn’t kept because of reasons beyond the control of the one who made the promise, then it’s forgivable. Yeah, it’s a bitter pill to swallow, but you have to forgive yourself. Donnie will, too. There’s nothing pretty or easy or kind about being institutionalized while the rest of the world—especially your family—goes about the business of living. I have so little family left, Kate, and honestly, it’s a blessing sometimes, at least for the time I’m in here. Donnie will be okay once he gets back home and busy with school. He’ll readjust to living with Geoffrey. Kids are very resilient. You know that.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I answered, though I wasn’t convinced.

  Philip finished cleaning the heater and handed the rags and broom down to me. I put them in the sink to wash later as he put the ladder away. “Kate,” he said as he came out of the closet and stood in front of me, “there’s nothing you can do about the situation at home right now. But you’re getting better, so stay focused on that and you’ll be home again soon.”

  As he spoke to me, I noticed that his brown eyes had a lot of gold in them, much like my father’s, actually, and his hair was thick and wavy like his, too, though it was a much lighter brown and longer than my father’s. The Drifters’ song, “Money Honey,” began playing on the radio. Its unmistakable bluesy sound spilled from the speakers like warm honey. “Now, that’s a song,” he said, turning away from me to turn the volume up, and interrupting my study of him. “We shall end this day on a lighter note, with a dance!” he declared, pulling me toward him by my wrist.

  “Oh, no, Philip, I don’t feel like dancing. Really.” I started to pull away.

  “And that’s exactly why you should! C’mon, you’ll feel better. Just this one.” He looked like a little boy and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I think it’s you who’s gonna feel better . . . All right—but just one.”

  He set the pace and we began a slow jitterbug. Closing my eyes, I could imagine being in a smoky, stale-smelling juke joint, surrounded by bad whiskey and even worse company. The heat in the greenhouse helped create the sultry illusion. The driving, heavy rhythm lifted you up and eased you down, rolling and building like waves on the ocean, playing and pushing you, until it fully pulled you in with its sensuous pulse, touching something deep inside and intentionally causing a reaction.

  Philip pulled me closer so that the jitterbug turned into a slower, closer dance. With the side of his face resting against mine, he breathed in my scent. I could feel his intake of breath and then the slow exhale. He pulled away and looked at me, and then he gently reached out and took a wayward lock of hair, which had escaped my low bun, between his fingers, lightly rolling it back and forth, as though he’d wondered what my hair felt like. Then, slowly, softly, he touched his lips to mine . . . and I responded. The kiss intensified with our tongues meeting, moving together, finally tasting each other, and at last knowing. It felt natural, when I knew it should feel all wrong. Holding me firmly, he pulled away just slightly, but was still so close that I could feel his breath against my mouth. Then, he whispered, “Kate . . .” It was a soft plea, but emotionally charged, asking for more. And I wanted to answer it, completely and fully, but I couldn’t. I had made promises and I had always done everything in my power to keep them, including the one I made to Geoffrey, in front of God, many years before. And now I was starting to take the first step toward breaking it. I stepped back and touched my fingers to my lips as if to stop them from saying something they shouldn’t, or from doing any more damage than they’d already done.

  I shook my head vehemently, and my eyes welled up. “I have to go. I have to . . .” I hurried out of the greenhouse, and he stood in the doorway watching me go, figuratively and literally. He knew that he had no choice, for the decision had to be mine, and I’d made it.

  I waited until the last minute to go to supper that evening, telling Annabelle and Marsha to go on without me, that I needed to make some phone calls. But the truth was, I didn’t want to see Philip, and he was usually in the dining room about the same time that I was, even though he was on the other side of the room. Right now, though, even that was too close. I needed to think about what had happened, what could have happened had I not stopped it, and how I felt about it all.

  Later on, lying in the darkness, knowing that sleep would never come, I heard that inner voice, the one that whispers the truths that one can’t hide from. And the truth it whispered frightened me.

  CHAPTER 26

  Divided We Fall

  “So, have him try his old ones on to check what still fits, then get what he needs. I’m so sorry to leave all of this to you, Geoffrey. I wish you’d let Mama take him shopping for his school clothes.”

  “It isn’t necessary, Kathryn. I’ll take him to get whatever he needs. We have better shopping in Cabot. Your mother means well, but let’s face it, the shops in Howling Cut leave much to be desired.” I let his little jab slide. I was never going to change his feelings about the place.

  “Well, please let Donnie help pick out what he wants to wear,” I continued. “Guide him, of course, but let him think he’s helping to make the final decisions. He’s growing up and he needs to have a voice in things that concern him, even if he does try to pair stripes with plaids.” I smiled.

  “When are they all getting here?” He impatiently looked at his watch. This was the first time Geoffrey was early and he was getting anxious to head back to Cabot.

  “They’ll be here any minute. We said eleven o’clock, and it’s just five of. How are things at work?” I changed the subject to something I knew he could talk about forever.

  “Actually, everything’s going quite well. We’ll be adding another partner next week, and Kathryn, you’ll be impressed to know that it’s a woman, Gina Omar. However, she is a Yankee,” he said wryly and smil
ed. “She’s from New York.”

  “New York? Then why does she want to come to Cabot?”

  “She did some freelance work with our firm several months ago and fell in love with the mountains. She’s top-notch, and we’re fortunate to be getting her.”

  “The business has expanded quite a lot since you’ve taken over, Geoffrey. I know that’s been your goal, and I’m proud of you. I know it makes you happy.”

  “Thank you, Kathryn, and it should make you happy, too. It just means having more of the finer things in life.”

  We already have them, Geoffrey. We have so much! Look at your son, your health, your wife who is still alive. Look at us, Geoffrey! I sadly thought but did not bother to say. He would never see it that way.

  “Look, there they are!” I said. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I saw Mama and Donnie coming down the lawn toward us. I was immediately struck by the fact that Daddy wasn’t with them and felt a surge of panic. I got up and walked toward them.

  “Where’s Daddy, Mama?” I said as I hugged Donnie to me, and then hugged her.

  “At home with a broken leg!” she said, turning to hug Geoffrey, who was just setting Donnie back down. Your daddy’s an ol’ fool.” She laughed, shaking her head. Just by her smile, I knew he was all right.

  “What happened?”

  “Well, you know that stray cat that adopted us a couple of weeks ago? Well, he got up in one of the apple trees and couldn’t get back down. So, that fool father of yours gets up in there to get the poor little thing down, only he comes down—hard! Broke his leg, and the cat ran off! Your daddy will be all right, but he can’t do much more than complain and keep me running from hither to yon, getting this and that for him. He’s got a cast that goes all the way to mid-thigh. Lord, honey, they’ll have to put me in Pelham before long, but in one of the crazy wards!”

  “Well, Mama, you’d get to see Aunt Harriet real often.” I laughed, relieved that no more harm had come to Daddy than a broken leg.

  “All right,” I said, “y’all come on and sit down. And, Donnie, you come tell me all about getting ready for school, and what you’re most excited about.” I pulled him over to my lounge chair, and we sat down, with him straddling the end of it, facing me.

  “So, Daddy’s going to take you to meet your new teacher at Washington Primary next Thursday. Isn’t that exciting?”

  He shrugged then mumbled softly, “I guess.”

  “Honey, you’re going to make so many nice friends. You know, I remember when I started school. My teacher’s name was Miss Mays. I was scared to death, but I remember we started to play this—” I stopped talking as Donnie burst into tears.

  Leaning over toward me on the chair, my sweet, frightened, brokenhearted son buried his head in my lap, and sobbed, “I wanna stay at Grandma’s!” His little shoulders shook with his wrenching sobs, and it took everything I had to not start sobbing with him. I was glad he wasn’t looking up at me or I wouldn’t have been able to hold myself together. “Oh, darlin’! Oh, goodness!” I ran my hand up and down his back, stroking him, trying to comfort him. “It’s gonna be okay.” I looked at my mother, then over at Geoffrey. My mother was softly crying, too, and was digging in her pocket for a handkerchief. Geoffrey, on the other hand, looked like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. His eyes were big and round, as if he was stunned, with no idea whether he should say something or just stay quiet. And then Donnie said the one thing that broke my heart. “And you won’t be there to take me the first day!” I laid my head down against my son’s and cried with him.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” Geoffrey walked away, moving some distance from us, obviously disgusted, and perhaps hurt, though I’d have bet my last dollar that it was only the former. He stood there with his hands on his hips and his back to us for a couple of minutes, then he took a deep breath and returned.

  “Son,” he said curtly. “You need to pull yourself together. You’re making everyone upset, not to mention that you’re making an enormous fuss over the most ridiculous thing. You’re coming home to go to school, and that’s a fact. And your mother won’t be there to take you, but I will be. Sometimes life is cruel and unfair, but that’s life, Donald. You’re old enough to understand that.”

  Donnie had sat up and turned toward his father as he was talking to him. When he heard what Geoffrey was saying, he lay against my chest and closed his eyes. I wrapped my arms around him and gently rocked him, softly whispering to him as Geoffrey lectured that everything was going to be all right. I didn’t quite believe it, though, and I was sure that my very bright and very sensitive son didn’t believe it either.

  I held up my hand to stop Geoffrey from going on any further and making matters worse. He stopped talking immediately, probably because he was taken aback that I would have the nerve to cut him off. He marched away from us again, but this time walked as far as the overgrown band shell, which was at least fifty yards away. He needed to cool off.

  “Donnie, look at Mama. I need you to look at me so that you know I’m telling you the truth.” Slowly, he got off my chest and looked at me, still trembling and winded from his sobbing. “Son, I’ve never broken a promise to you until this one—about taking you to school on your first day, right?” He thought for a second as if trying to recall another time that I might have let him down, but unable to, he nodded. Then, relying on one thing that had always comforted him, he slipped his thumb into his mouth. I didn’t stop him.

  “I need you to know that I didn’t break this promise on purpose. You’re big enough to understand that I was sicker than we thought I was, and though the good doctors have tried their best to make me well in time to take you to school, they just weren’t able to. But, I am feeling better. I’m able to do more things now than I could for a while. See that garden over there?” He looked to where I was pointing. “I just planted mustard greens in it a couple of weeks ago, and I thought of you ’cause I know how much you love ’em!” He hated them, and I tickled his ribs, making him giggle. Thank God. “So, even though I’m doing better, I’m still not as good as they want me to be. They can’t let me out of this place, even to walk you to school. You know why?” His hands were now planted down on my thighs and he was listening intently. “Because they want to fix me up to where I’m feeling so good that I will never, ever have to come back here again. They want me to be able to walk you to school, even when you’re in college! You think your girlfriends will mind your mama walkin’ you to school?” He smiled broadly and shook his head. “Well, I say that’s just too bad for them ’cause you’re my boy and will always, always be! Whatcha got to say about that? Huh?”

  I tickled him again, and then he let out a big sigh, as if in resignation that things were not going to be just as he and I wanted them to be—at least not for a while. “Okay, so here’s the plan.” I was stroking his hair. “You go on and be with Daddy, ’cause I’m gonna tell you a secret, Donnie; he needs you, real bad. And if you go with him, you’ll really be helping me because I won’t worry about him so much knowin’ you’re there to watch out for him. Would that be all right with you? Can you do that for me?”

  He thought for a few seconds, then nodded his head and softly said, “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s my boy,” I said, leaning down slightly and kissing the crown of his head. As I did, I smelled his hair. It was a mother’s favorite perfume. “You take care of Daddy, he’ll take care of you, and the doctors will take care of me, and we’ll be together before you know it! Does that sound like an all-right plan to you, little buddy?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I looked him straight in his eyes, and said very seriously, “It’s going to be okay, son. We’ll all be okay.” Then I hugged him hard and prayed that what I said wouldn’t turn out to be another broken promise to my son.

  They left soon after, before anyone, but especially Donnie, could get upset again. I walked them to the edge of the parking lot and fought back the tears as I said good-bye to each one of them. Donnie hel
d on to Mama, not wanting to let her go. The only reason he finally did was that she promised to come see him in a few weeks and bring the tree-climbing cat back for him. Geoffrey had agreed then and there to allow the cat to come live with them. I believe he would have agreed to most anything at that point to keep the situation under control, and to prevent anything more from delaying their departure.

  I watched them drive out of the parking lot and all the way down the long driveway. Mama was going to spend the night at Aunt Harriet’s, to break up the drive home, and Uncle Prescott and Glory were spending the night with Daddy. And Geoffrey and Donnie were going to Donnie’s favorite restaurant in Cabot for chili dogs. There was nothing more I could do for any of them at that moment.

  Suddenly, I felt exhausted. I was mentally and physically worn out. Knowing that I had absolutely no energy left in me, I decided to have a tray of supper sent up to my room. I couldn’t sit at a table in the dining hall and talk about superficial things, things that had no meaning to me at all. Besides, I didn’t want to see Philip, because the truth of the matter was that I wanted to see Philip—badly, so I had to avoid him, especially that evening. My emotions were too raw, and I was too vulnerable. I might say things and allow things to be said that shouldn’t be said or even thought of. I knew what I was feeling, and I didn’t need to be reminded of Philip’s emotions.

  I started back toward my building and glanced up at it. But when I started to look away, a lone figure standing at a window on the second floor of the building next to mine caught my eye. It was Mary Boone. The sun acted like a spotlight on her, making her clearly visible. I could see that she was watching me, but it was the look on her face that brought me to a standstill. It was one of absolute despair. Her mouth was slightly ajar, making it look like an eerie, slanting gash in her face. And her hands were closed into fists up at her throat, as if she was tightly clutching the material of her robe together. She stood there sobbing, hard; hard enough that I could see the slight jerking motions in her shoulders. There she stood, deep in her unreachable pain. And as I watched her dissolving in it, I couldn’t help but think how well her feelings mirrored mine, and those of my family.