“But seriously,” Vivian continued, like she was trying to clean the situation up, “you just like keeping to yourself?”
“I prefer to keep my circle tight, let’s put it that way,” Lauren replied.
“Then I guess I should be honored.”
“You should.” Lauren flashed a smile in her direction to let her know that all was well.
They were interrupted when Lauren’s cell phone rang.
“Oh, I have to take this,” Lauren said when she noticed her mother’s doctor’s office number appear on the caller ID.
“I’m gonna run use your bathroom,” Vivian whispered as she stood and motioned toward Lauren’s bedroom. Lauren started to tell her to use the guest bathroom, since she didn’t like people in her personal space. Instead, she just nodded and answered the phone.
“Hello, this is Lauren.”
“Hi, Lauren, this is Sonya with Dr. Rodriguez’s office. I have him on the line.”
“Okay,” Lauren said, easing down into a chair. She dreaded the doctor’s calls because he never called with good news.
After a few seconds he came on the line. “Hi, Lauren.”
“Hi, Doc.”
Dr. Rodriguez was very thorough, but he was straightforward, so she knew he was going to skip all the formalities. “I just got your mother’s test results back. Unfortunately, the cancer has returned.”
Lauren let out a deep, wounded sigh. They’d been hoping that between the surgeries and radiation, their mother would go into remission.
“So, we’re going to have to get more aggressive with her treatment.”
“That radiation drains her,” Lauren protested. She hated seeing her mother’s vibrancy sucked away by the chemo treatments. She rubbed her temples, trying to process the bad news. How could the cancer come back? “Will this really help, Doc? It’s like we keep doing this stuff and nothing works.”
“All we can do is try. And if you’re a praying family, pray.”
Ha. That was a joke. The Robinson family hadn’t seen any parts of prayer in a long time. They used to go to church all the time, but the women had driven her mother away from church . . . and the Lord. Lauren occasionally watched Joel Osteen on television, but that was the extent of her religious participation. Shoot, God would probably laugh at her and tune her out if she went to Him now.
“Look, I have to run,” Dr. Rodriguez continued. “Just get your mother in my office before the end of the week. And, Lauren, I talked with the psychiatrist at the Evergreen Center, and she is very concerned about your mother’s mental health.”
That elicited another sigh. Her mother had been getting meaner over the years. Lauren chalked it up to old age, but Dr. Rodriguez blamed the tumor. Truthfully, Lauren thought her bad temper was a combination of both.
“Okay, I’ll talk with her therapist,” Lauren reluctantly said.
“Good. Get with Sonya, set up an appointment, and I’ll see you next week.” Abruptly she heard a click. That was bedside manner for you.
“Everything okay?” Vivian asked after Lauren hung up.
Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but her words caught in her throat. “Excuse me,” she managed to say as she jumped up and ran into the bathroom.
Vivian was her friend, but Lauren wasn’t ready for Vivian to see her crying, and right about now she needed a really good cry.
Lauren stood before her sink, staring at her reflection. She dabbed her eyes, trying to pull herself together. Her grandmother had died of cancer, so Lauren should be prepared for the possibilities. But nothing could ever really prepare someone for a relative living with cancer.
“You okay?” Vivian asked, tapping on the bathroom door.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Be out in a sec,” she called out.
She was grateful when she heard Vivian walk off. Lauren dashed some water on her face. She didn’t know how in the world she was supposed to be strong when it seemed like her mother’s death was inevitable.
Lauren was about to head back out into the living room when the phone rang again. Julian’s number flashed across the screen, and she contemplated not answering. Finally, she pressed the ACCEPT button.
“Hello?”
“Hey, did the doctor call you?”
She was grateful that her brother’s tone was soft because she couldn’t take anything other than a sympathetic ear right now.
“Yeah.”
“So what now?”
She leaned against the sink. “I don’t know. All that treatment and we’re back to square one.”
“We just have to remain optimistic. Thankfully, she’s already in the facility and they can just boost up her treatment.” This must’ve really been taking a toll on Julian because he sounded more exasperated than she’d heard him sound in years.
“When are you going to go tell her?”
That made her close her eyes and inhale. She was about to ask, why didn’t he fly out here and tell her himself, when she heard yelling in the background.
“Who is that, Julian?” the voice screamed.
“Hold on, Lauren,” he snapped. His tone caught her off guard because he’d gone from demanding to angry. “It’s my sister, Rebecca. Can I talk to my sister about my sick mother, please?”
An exchange of heated words passed that Lauren couldn’t make out. She was surprised, because the few times she’d met her sister-in-law, Rebecca had seemed meek and timid.
“Sorry,” Julian said, coming back to the phone. “Rebecca is having a hard time with the twins and stressing out . . . But anyway.”
Lauren wanted to ask her brother if he wanted to talk about the problem since she’d never heard Rebecca go off like that, but given the way he quickly changed the subject—and the fact that he never talked about his personal life—Lauren knew such an effort would be futile.
“Just tell Mom we’re going to continue trying to get her the best treatment. The therapist there also thinks she should get into some psychological treatments, so if you can mention we want her to do that as well.”
Lauren sighed as her brother continued rattling off his to-do list.
As he talked, she couldn’t help but wish that she had heeded his warning when he left for the army: If I were you, I’d finish school, move far, far away, and put North Carolina in my rearview mirror.
Unfortunately, it was too late now.
Lauren had had a sleepless night. Today she had to go break the news to her mother that the cancer was back. On the list of things she wanted to do, this fell right below a root canal.
She was irritated with her brother’s call. Julian could direct her on what to do but didn’t have to help his mother’s sadness. Thankfully, Matthew knew that she was having a hard time and so he met her for lunch.
“What can I do to make you smile?” he said.
“You’re doing it, just by having me here.” That was the truth. In fact, she had smiled more in these last two weeks than she had in months.
“I find it hard to believe that nothing has gotten better between you and your mother since college.”
Lauren shook her head. “I’ve tried. Lord knows I’ve tried, but you can’t make someone love you.”
“I’m sure your mother loves you.”
Lauren had never shared the real reason she and her mother were so at odds. She’d never shared it because it sounded so foolish that a mother would harbor any animosity because of her father’s infidelities.
“Everyone wasn’t meant to have a loving family like yours, I guess.”
“What kind of mother would you like to be?”
She laughed. “A godmother.”
That made him laugh as well. “So, you still don’t want children?”
She shook her head.
“I think if you meet the right man—or realize that you’ve met the right man,” he corrected with a smile, “you’ll change your mind. There’s a nurturing part of you that I think will enjoy motherhood.”
Lauren didn’t answer. S
he would hold out for some guarantees that she wouldn’t have a dysfunctional relationship.
Lauren was about to comment when she looked up to see Craig and his wife walking toward her. Her eyes met Craig’s and he immediately tried to beeline. But it was too late. His wife had spotted them.
“Hello. Lauren, isn’t it?” she said, approaching their table.
Lauren nodded.
“I’m Dana, Craig’s wife. You do remember Craig, right? You helped him get the spa deal and bracelet that I’ve yet to get.”
Lauren couldn’t tell where she was going, but she did know she wanted it to end, tout de suite. “Hello to both of you. This is my friend Matthew, and we were in the middle of something, so it was good seeing you.”
“Hey, all right, it was good seeing you, too,” Craig quickly interjected, trying to pull Dana away.
“Naw, I wanna ask her a few questions,” Dana said, her voice filled with attitude.
“Would you come on?” Craig said, dragging her off.
“What was that about?” Matthew asked.
Lauren sighed. “He was one of my clients. He bought some jewelry from me and his crazy wife thinks something is going on.”
“Ha, as if you’d mess with someone’s husband,” Matthew said. “Miss Goody Two-Shoes.”
Lauren shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I need to get going and go have this conversation with my mother.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Matthew had offered on the phone and when they’d first sat down for lunch. What she wouldn’t give to have him join her. But she hadn’t let him meet her mother in all the time they were dating. She wasn’t about to start now.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll call you later.”
She stood and before she could give him a friendly hug, their lips met, right in the middle of the restaurant.
“Oh, wow,” she said.
“I’ve been waiting to do that.”
She smiled, then surprised herself when she said, “I’m glad you did.”
“Call me when you leave. No, come by when you leave.”
Lauren pushed back the feeling that had been having her flip-flopping since she’d reconnected with Matthew. Why was she fighting anyway? “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. Just have me a good stiff drink ready. I’ll need it.”
As Lauren approached her mother, she was greeted by an incongruous sight. She was sitting with some old man. It was funny because someone passing by might think they were an old married couple. Of course, as far as Lauren knew, her mother hadn’t given a man the time of day since her father died. So that picturesque view of the two of them talking and laughing was purely a mirage.
“Hey, pretty lady,” the old man said, noticing her first.
“Hi. Ernie, right?”
“Ernest.” He stood and shook Lauren’s hand. “Just trying to keep your mother entertained.”
“You’re not entertaining me.”
“She tries to play hard, but I know she’s feeling me.”
That made Lauren laugh. “She’s feeling you?”
“Yep, the race is not won by the swift but the steady. Or something like that.” He flashed a cheesy grin. His demeanor immediately put Lauren at ease. Maybe Ernest’s companionship was good for her mother.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Joyce asked. “What race?”
Ernest just blew her a theatrical kiss as he walked away.
“So, what’s going on with that?” Lauren asked once he was gone.
“Absolutely nothing,” her mother said, shutting down. “And what are you doing here on a Friday?”
“I can’t come see you at random times?”
“You don’t.”
“I wonder why,” Lauren mumbled. She contemplated working into the subject she’d come about, but then decided the sooner she got the news out, the sooner she could leave. “Look. I came because I talked with Dr. Rodriguez.”
“And let me guess, he gave me a clean bill of health and I can go home today?”
“Not quite, Mama.”
Their eyes locked in a glare. “Then, anything else, I don’t want to hear,” Joyce said.
Lauren sat down across from her mother. The pain behind her mother’s eyes was heartbreaking, and despite everything Lauren understood her unhappiness. How much could one woman be forced to endure?
Lauren began relaying the devastating news.
Joyce really didn’t know why she needed to be here. She hated these silly sessions. Her mother had always told her, “Keep your business to yourself. You don’t tell anybody but God.”
That’s the motto she’d lived by all of her life. Her husband’s sister, Velma, was the only one who knew the true hell she’d been through. And she only knew because she was a witness to most of it.
Nope, Joyce didn’t believe in sharing her dirt. So, why her children thought she needed to come talk to some quack about her problems now was beyond her.
The cancer was back. With a vengeance. She was going to die. Nothing else mattered. If they couldn’t heal her body, what was the point of healing her mind?
“So, Mrs. Robinson, how are you feeling today?” the therapist asked, greeting Joyce inside the doorway to her office. She was petite, with cat-eye glasses and a mushroom haircut that didn’t fit her tiny face. Her plant-looking hair appeared to be sitting on her head, trying to swallow it up. So it aggravated Joyce not only that she had to sit here and pretend to open up, but that she had to do so looking at this woman, who was looking a hot mess.
“I’m doing the same way I was doing two days ago,” she snapped.
“Did you do any of the exercises I gave you?” She motioned for Joyce to take a seat. On their first meeting, she’d given her homework like she was an eighth grader.
“Umm, nope. So sorry. I’ve just been so busy. You know I keep a full calendar around here.” Joyce didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm as she plopped down on the chaise. She was too old for this therapist mess. Even if she was one of those Chatty Pattys who told people all her business, how would it have any impact?
The therapist—Joyce didn’t remember her name—didn’t seem fazed by her sarcasm. She sat down across from Joyce, crossing her legs primly as she opened up her notepad.
“So, as I told you last week, today I really want to talk to you about your family, your husband, your children,” she began. Joyce didn’t know if she was used to reluctant patients or what, but she showed no reaction to the way Joyce was acting.
“I don’t understand why we have to keep rehashing this,” Joyce said wearily, although she did stretch her legs out on the chaise. If she had to be here, she might as well get comfortable. Maybe she could even nod off.
“We’re all concerned about your state of mind.”
“My husband cheated on me from the day he said ‘I do.’ My daughter betrayed me by keeping his secret, to the point of killing him. And my son is too busy to be bothered with me. That’s my story. The end. Can I go now? The Home Shopping Network is having a sale. Oh, wait. I can’t do that either because I’m broke. Just give me some morphine and take me out,” Joyce quipped.
Again, the good doctor didn’t react to the rant. She simply said, “You seem to focus a lot on the bad stuff.”
Joyce shrugged. “That’s all there is.”
“I doubt that,” she said soothingly. “How long were you married?”
“Twenty-four years.”
“Well, those years couldn’t have been all bad.”
Joyce weighed that statement. She was right. They weren’t all bad, just mostly. But Joyce had stayed because she thought he would change.
“You didn’t fall in love with a bad man, did you?”
That made Joyce smile against her will. She was right about that. She had a flashback to some of their happier times.
“Do you mind sharing what you’re thinking about?” the therapist asked.
Joyce turned her attention back to her mousy inquisitor. “Sorry, I wa
s thinking about that awesome applesauce they have lined up for dinner today.”
The therapist let out a disgusted sigh, which Joyce was sure had to be against the shrink code of ethics.
“Let’s get started,” she said, returning to her usual chirpy brightness. “So, the last time we were here, you ran off the list of women that your husband had cheated with, or with whom you at least thought something inappropriate was going on.” She flipped the page on her legal notepad. “I think you said you have seventeen on your list.”
“Those are just the ones I know about. I’m sure it was triple that, given all of those I don’t know.”
The therapist went back to her original page. “So then the question begs to be asked, why did you stay?”
Joyce didn’t answer.
“Joyce, I don’t know why you keep tuning me out, but we’re not going to make progress if you don’t open up,” the therapist said. “You have to talk about Vernon.”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she finally said, shaking away her memories.
The therapist let out a sigh, then said, “Okay, let’s talk about Lauren.”
“I don’t want to talk about her, either.”
“Joyce, you’re not well. And we believe in healing the whole person. The mind and body go hand in hand. I’m very concerned about your psyche.”
“My psyche is just fine. I’m bitter and I have every right to be.”
There, she couldn’t be more plain about how she felt.
“Fine. What do you want to talk about then?” the therapist asked.
“Since you want to talk about my family, let’s talk about Julian.” Just saying her son’s name made her smile. Yes, it hurt that he didn’t want to be bothered with her, but in a way, she understood. He had an important job and a family.
“Your relationship with Julian is fine,” she said. “It’s your relationship with your daughter that I’m concerned about. You have some issues that you really need to address to help you both heal. We have to do this before . . .”
The Perfect Mistress Page 12
