by Shirley Jump
Over the last two years, the kids had asked her a couple times why she was sleeping in the guest room, and she’d made a joke about Daddy’s snoring. She’d hoped they were young enough not to question that reasoning.
“Your father and I are going to argue sometimes. All people argue, even you and me,” Nora said. “Daddy and I don’t agree on everything, but we agree on how much we love you both.”
“Then why isn’t Daddy here? How come he didn’t stay with us? He needs a vacation too.”
“He couldn’t get time off from work.” Another lie, because she hadn’t even asked Ben.
“But Daddy’s the boss. He can give himself a vacation.”
Eight years old and already so wise, and so aware of all the nuances of the lives of her parents. Nora tried to think back, but all she remembered from her eighth year was the death of her father. She’d grown up in an instant after that, slipping into a role of responsibility before she was even old enough to know her times tables.
Ben’s availability to go on vacation was not a conversation that Nora wanted to have right now. Nora had danced around the subject of Sarah’s fight with Anna for days, partly because she was reluctant to add to the tension between her and her daughter. She’d hoped maybe she and Sarah could bridge this gap, maybe have a Mom and Me movie night or a game night to reknit some of those fragile threads, but if anything, things had become more strained, with the elephant in the room sitting smack in the center.
“We really need to talk about what happened at school with Anna and why you were picking on kids in your class,” Nora said. “You’ll be going back to St. Gregory’s in two days, and that needs to be settled before you start school again.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sarah leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms again.
“I’m sorry, Sarah, but you don’t get a choice. Sister Esther is going to ask about all this when you go back to school and so will Anna’s mother. Why did you two get into a fight?”
“Anna said mean things to me.”
Anna had always been a kind, polite child. Nora couldn’t imagine what the sunny blonde had said that was mean. Although even good kids became cruel sometimes. Sarah is the bully. Kids like her own child. She thought back to the parenting articles she’d read over the years, always with that smug not my kid thinking in the back of her mind. Bullies sprang from troubled backgrounds and abusive homes. Sarah had none of that, yet she had still raised her fists to a friend. “What kind of mean things?”
Sarah paused for a long moment, fiddling with the string bracelet on her wrist. “Are you and Daddy really okay?” Her lower lip quivered, and when she spoke, her voice was low and hoarse.
How could Nora possibly tell Sarah the truth? Nothing was set in stone yet, and maybe she was being cowardly, but until there was a court date and some paperwork, she wanted to preserve Sarah’s world as long as possible. “It’s all going to be okay, honey. Don’t worry.”
And yet another generation learned the I’m fine O’Bannon method of coping.
Sarah gnawed on her bottom lip. “Can I go now?”
Nora debated pushing the subject of the issues with her classmates, the fight with Anna, but she could see tears threatening in Sarah’s eyes again, and the mother in Nora couldn’t bear to make her daughter any sadder. “Okay, but you need to apologize to Jake. And tomorrow, we’re going to the store to buy Jake a new truck with the money you got for your birthday from Gramma.”
“That’s not fair!”
Life isn’t fair, she wanted to say. Sometimes the house you planned to grow old in is lost forever, and sometimes the man you marry turns out to be someone you don’t really know. And sometimes you do the best job you can for your kids and you still screw it up. “Please be more careful with his toys. Now go outside and apologize.”
Sarah hopped off the chair and headed out to the back porch with Chance hot on her heels. She stood beside Jake and mumbled a reluctant apology. Jake jumped up, hugged his sister, and asked her to play in the sand with him. That was Jake, the boy she’d called bouncy when he was little, because nothing ever seemed to faze or upset him for long. Sarah, on the other hand, had the brooding temper of her father. Nevertheless, she grabbed the shovel and pail, following her brother down to the beach. Nora watched as they dropped onto the beach beside each other and started excavating a foundation for a castle.
Magpie came back into the house and hung her sweatshirt on the hook by the door. “How’d it go?”
“Let’s just say I’m dreading the teenage years.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse.” Nora put her head in her hands. Every time she tried to make things better, they went sideways. And she had yet to break the news to the kids about moving into Aunt Mary’s house. Duck and run from honesty, that was becoming her specialty. “Am I being a terrible mother?”
“You’re a great mother, Nora. A great wife. God, all of us admire you and wish we could hold it together half as well as you do,” Magpie said.
Nora scoffed. “I’m not as great as you think, Magpie. And I’m not really holding it together. The whole thing is shadows and duct tape.”
“Then talk to me,” her little sister said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I screwed up my life. I screwed up my marriage. I couldn’t even manage to be a good mother. “Nothing. Sorry. Just a stressful day. I’ll be fine in a little while.” Nora even managed to work up a smile to put frosting on her lie.
Magpie arched a brow. “Come on, Nora, this is me. Don’t feed me the family bullshit. Talk to me.”
There was too much, piled up over years and years of keeping everything to herself, that explaining what was going on to Magpie would mean unraveling a Gordian knot of lies. Exposing secrets she hadn’t even shared with her husband. “There’s nothing to talk about. Really. It’s just…being a mom sometimes comes with a lot of problems and things you didn’t expect.”
“If you say so.” Magpie fiddled with the knit place mat. “How did you know you wanted to be a mother? I mean, not that I’m thinking of it or anything, just wondering what made you say, yes, I want a couple people depending on me for food and shelter for eighteen years.”
It was the second question about parenting that Magpie had asked in as many days. Maybe it was because she’d been around the kids so much or had seen Nora’s struggle. From the time she was born, Magpie had made it clear she never wanted to be tied down, not to a husband, not to kids, not to one place. She’d lived vicariously through her niece and nephew, spoiling them often with trinkets she brought back from her trips. Ma would nudge Magpie from time to time in the direction of settling down, but her little sister would deflect the attention to the already-married Abby and Jessie or Bridget, the latter of whom was getting relatively serious with Garrett now. If Nora had to wager a guess, she’d bet Abby and Jessie would be the first to bring another grandchild into the O’Bannon family fold.
“I guess I always wanted to be a mother. Even when I was little, I wanted to get married, have a family, and teach them how to make cookies.” Nora laughed. “When you’re ten, you think the key to happiness in life is a few chocolate chips.”
“Hell, you think that at twenty-six too.” Magpie kept fiddling with the edge of the place mat, lifting, smoothing. “Is there anything you wish you did differently?”
“You mean about getting married and having kids? A thousand things, Mags, but I can’t look back. All that does is drive me crazy.” And gave her insomnia that left her watching bad reality television shows in the middle of the night.
“Things like what?” Magpie asked. “You know, in case I ever get whisked off to another planet and forced to marry Jabba the Hutt or something.”
“And this is why you are the writer and I’m the cake decorator.” Nora laughed and shook her head. “I could give you the standard answers. I wish I’d saved more. I wished I’d spent more wisely. I wish I’d waited a little longer to get married. But r
eally, the only thing I wish I’d done was…pause.”
“Pause?”
“I married Ben because he asked. Because I was head over heels in love. I didn’t take a breath and look down the road. I just did it. And over the years we’ve been married, I’ve spent too much time buried in the minutiae. In trying to get from A to B while getting X, Y, and Z done. I haven’t taken enough time to pause and look at what’s happening in the meantime. Or even pause to enjoy the good moments. And process the bad.” Maybe if she had stopped and paid more attention, she would have seen the end coming sooner. Or she would have acted instead of pretending everything was fine.
Magpie cocked her head and studied Nora. “Was it the money problems that you and Ben were fighting about earlier? Because if you need some money, I’d be glad to give you some.”
“We’re fine.” Nora covered Magpie’s hand with her own. “Seriously. I’m just spouting off. He annoyed me this morning. That’s all.”
“Which is exactly why I don’t live with a man. The only one who can annoy me is me.” Magpie grinned.
The mask Nora wore about her life and marriage began to slip. She could feel the tears nudging at her eyes again. She glanced at the kids, still playing in the sand outside the beach house. Soon they’d be inside again, wanting lunch. “Hey, didn’t you mention you wanted to talk to me? We have some time now, while the kids are playing.”
“It’s no big deal. It can wait. I’m hungry,” Magpie said, too fast, too easily. Again, Nora wondered about her little sister, but then Magpie smiled and any doubts disappeared. “I’m going to go make us some lunch. Leftover pizza okay?”
“Considering I think that’s the only thing you can cook, that’s great.”
Magpie got to her feet. “All my life, you’ve been the one I’ve gone to for advice and support, Nora. I hope you know that you can come to me when things get tough for you.” She paused by Nora’s chair and gave her a quick hug. “I understand more than you think.”
SEVENTEEN
Sunday morning brought a bright sunny day and a return to reality. Nora got up early and started packing. She hurried the kids through breakfast, one more trip to the beach and a rousing game of tag in the yard with their aunt and the dog. Then she stood on the back deck and watched her children, happy, laughing, enjoying their last bit of vacation in a naïve bubble.
For a second, she allowed herself to imagine the future that had never happened. A third child in the mix, toddling between Sarah and Jake, eager to learn the world, carve out a space of his or her own. Maybe a dog, too, a flash of fur weaving in and out of the children. And finally, Nora and Ben, holding hands or leaning against each other, proud and content with their family, their life, the home they had built.
Tears stung Nora’s eyes, and her throat closed. She shut her eyes and drew in deep breaths until she erased the images in her mind. That future was never going to come to pass. Dreaming of it only resurrected a pain it had taken her months to bury.
Nora kept procrastinating when she really needed to decide what to do about her future. She’d never been the kind of person who put things off, but the thought of all those changes, all those decisions, swamped her.
Just dealing with the dog was a mountain she didn’t want to climb. No one had called about Chance, and no one had reported a dog like him missing. He was Nora’s, for all intents and purposes. She liked the mutt, and if things were different, she would have kept him. But it was too much, one more burden she wasn’t prepared to handle.
Magpie came up the stairs and leaned against the porch post. “Geez, those kids wear me out. I need a nap.”
Nora laughed. “Kids have more energy than you think.”
The dog came up and pressed his snout to Magpie’s leg. “And more than this guy.” Magpie rubbed his head. “He’s a good dog.”
Nora sighed. “He is. It’ll be a shame to give him away.”
“I thought you said we could keep him forever.”
Nora hadn’t even noticed that the kids had stopped playing. Sarah was standing at the foot of the path, her fists on her hips, her jeans coated with sand.
Jake was beside her, tears welling in his eyes and his lower lip starting to tremble. “Mommy?”
Damn. Nora had screwed up yet again.
Nora started down the stairs toward the kids. “Guys, I know you love Chance, and he’s a great dog, but we don’t really have the time or room for a dog. He needs to go to a good home, and after we get back, I’ll make sure he finds the best home ever—”
“You always break your promises! I hate you!” Sarah ran past Nora, up the stairs, into the house, and down the hall. A bedroom door slammed.
Shit.
Nora dropped to her knees and took Jake’s hands. He was so little still, so black and white in his view of the world. She hated breaking his heart, hated all of this. “We’ll get another dog someday, I promise.”
“I want this one, Mommy. I love Chance, and he loves me, and he needs us.” Jake’s lower lip sucked in and out, in and out, and the brave face he tried to hold began to crumple.
“I have an idea,” Magpie said. She put a hand on Nora’s shoulder and met her sister’s gaze. “I’ve still got a few days off. Why don’t I take Chance back to my house and let him have a sleepover there? You guys can come visit him after school. And that gives everyone some time to…” She glanced at Nora.
“Come up with a plan,” Nora finished. It wasn’t the truth—she couldn’t afford her kids and herself, never mind a dog—but it bought her some time. And maybe she could do the math again and find a way to stretch her budget a bit further. “I’m going to go talk to Sarah.”
“No problem. The Jakester and I are going to take one last look for cool shells.” Magpie ruffled her nephew’s hair. “Sound good, buddy?”
“Okay.” As he walked away, he started talking about Chance, telling his aunt all the dog’s favorite tricks and treats, the happiness restored in his world.
Nora headed inside and found her daughter lying on Nora’s bed, crying. Across the wall hung Will’s painting of the perpetual storm, an apt image for Nora’s life right now. The bed creaked as Nora sank onto the mattress beside her daughter. Sarah rolled a little toward her with the added dent in the mattress but kept her face hidden. “Honey, we worked something out with the dog.” Nora put a hand on Sarah’s back. “Aunt Magpie’s going to take him for a few days, and you and Jake can visit him whenever you want.”
“I don’t care.” The pillow muffled her words.
Nora rubbed a gentle circle against the small of Sarah’s back. When she was a baby, that had been the only way to get her to stop crying. Nora would pace the kitchen floor, shush-shushing a teething Sarah, and rub gentle circles until sleep eased the pain. “Talk to me, Sarah.”
It took a moment, but finally Sarah rolled over. Her face was blotchy and tear-stained. The defiance glittered again in her eyes. “I don’t wanna talk. I hate you. I want Daddy.”
The words sliced an artery in Nora’s heart. I hate you. When Sarah was four, they’d gone on a family vacation to Canobie Lake Park. Six months pregnant with Jake, Nora thought the trip to New Hampshire would be one last “just the three of us” opportunity. From the second they arrived, Sarah had glued herself to Nora, insisting Mommy do everything, from cutting up her food to helping her in and out of the stroller. Every time Sarah said “but I want Mommy,” Ben’s face had taken on this pained expression. Every ride, every restaurant, every exhibit, Sarah had insisted on being with her mother. At the time, Nora had felt frustrated and a little annoyed. The second trimester had left her exhausted and cranky, and Sarah’s clinginess had been overwhelming. When Ben told her how much it hurt him that his own daughter wanted nothing to do with him, Nora had barked back that she would have paid good money to have a day when Sarah didn’t want her. Be careful what you wish for.
I hate you. Did Sarah really mean that? “I’m sorry, Sarah, but Daddy isn’t here right now.”
“Because you’re divorcing him?”
Silence filled the space between them. There was a yip outside—Chance racing down the beach probably—but no other sound except the faint ticking of a clock. “Where did you hear that?”
Sarah’s fist curled around the edge of the white comforter, crumpling the cotton into a thick ball. “I don’t know.”
“Sarah, where did you hear that?”
Sarah worried her bottom lip, averting her gaze.
Nora cupped her daughter’s chin, but still Sarah wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Sarah, where did you hear that?”
Another minute passed. “Anna told me,” Sarah said in a voice so low that it was almost a whisper. “I told her she was a big liar, and she got mad, and we got in a fight, and we got in trouble at school, and Sister Esther said I was being mean, but it wasn’t me. It was Anna. She said it every day, and I got madder every day and told her to shut up, and I didn’t want to fight her, so sometimes I was mean to other kids. Then she said it in front of everyone at school and I…I hit her.”
So that was the bullying the school had talked about. An ongoing battle with Anna, over information the other little girl shouldn’t have. Who had told Anna that Nora and Ben were breaking up?
“Then I saw you fighting with Daddy.” Sarah’s eyes widened. “Are you divorcing him? Are you leaving us?”
“No, honey, I’m not leaving you.” How the hell had Anna found out about her marital troubles? Now the fight at school made sense, and the way Sarah had been acting for days. The avoidance, the hostility, the reluctance to talk. A child’s greatest fear, she’d read once, was that their home would be broken and uprooted.
Exactly what was happening to Sarah.
The urge to shield her daughter a little longer rose stronger in Nora’s chest. Someday, she’d have to sit them down—hopefully she and Ben would do it together—and tell them Mommy and Daddy weren’t going to live together anymore.
