Avalee's Gift

by Linda Apple

  “What is all this about?” His anxiousness turned into irritation.

  “Settle down, sweetie.”

  “Scott. Don’t call me sweetie.”

  “Sorry. Listen. I have big news. Big news. The New Yorker wants to buy your photos.”

  “Photos? I’m not following you.”

  “Avalee sent me the photos you took at Jema’s reception. The ones of the Life Source folks. My friend, Taige, sent them to a colleague who works at the magazine and the guy thought they were fantastic. He wants to buy them, and he also has some assignments he’d like to give you.” Scott stopped long enough to take a breath and then blurted out. “Do you know what this means?”

  Dazed, Ty shook his head as if Scott could see him.

  “It means you are on your way to the big time if you keep taking pics like those.”

  Ty looked at his camera on the stand posed to take a shot of a building façade. A façade for crying out loud. Finally. A real job. A real career. Finally….

  “Hey, Ty. You there?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’m just so blown away.”

  “You ought to be. Now listen. Be expecting a call from my guy, Taige. He will get you in contact with the New Yorker people.” Scott paused and then said in his most sarcastic voice. “And answer your phone, okay, fella?”

  Ty let the fella reference slide. This was big. Bigger than big. He was light-headed with the enormity of the news. “Will do. And, hey, thanks.”

  “Anything for a friend. Doesn’t hurt you are so good-looking.”

  “Oh stop already.”

  “Kidding. Now call Avalee. She’s worried about you.”

  “Calling now. Thanks again.”

  As soon as he hung up he called Ava. She answered before the first ring had finished. “Have you talked to Scott?”

  “Yes, can you believe it?”

  “Of course I can. You are brilliant. That’s why I sent them. I just knew someone would snatch them up.”

  “But what about getting release forms? Don’t I need people to sign them and what if I can’t find them? What if they won’t sign?”

  “All is good. Since it was a private event you don’t need them.” She paused. “I had called you about something completely different the first time.”

  “What about?”

  “My mother. Ty, you aren’t going to believe this. She’s diabetic and she has been hiding it from me.”

  “Seriously? She’s smarter than that.”

  “Apparently not.” An impatient sigh sounded over the receiver. “When I try to talk to her about it, she just shuts down.”

  “Maybe she’s frightened, or maybe even resents not being able to live like she always has before diabetes.”

  “Well, those kinds of feelings will either land her as an invalid in a nursing home or six-feet under.”

  Another call showed on Ty’s screen. “I’m getting a call from area code 917?”

  “Hang up and take it. Bye.”

  Ty hit ‘answer’. “Hello, this is Tyler Jackson.”

  “Hello Tyler. I’m Taige….”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Life can be so complicated.

  ~Avalee Preston

  By noon, it was as if Mom and I had never had our little confrontation. She was cheery as always, fussing over what we should have for lunch. I already made an appointment with Doctor Derrick for a consultation about her, but I wasn’t about to tell her. I just needed to understand what was going on in her mind. Perhaps, by knowing what her thought processes might be, I could approach the subject of diabetes in a more delicate and convincing manner.

  Momma had her head stuck in the fridge, calling out lunch choices. “We have left over meat loaf. That’d make nice sandwiches. We can have BLTs, I have bacon and some of Pigg’s cardboard-tasting tomatoes.” She squinted at me and stuck out her tongue. “I sure do miss the fresh tomatoes from my garden.” She went back to rummaging. “I have enough chicken pot pie soup to make a respectable lunch.”

  “Soup sounds good.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” She pulled out the bowl and emptied it into a pot. “And I’ll whip up a pan of cornbread.”

  Once again, my mother was in her happy place. Cooking. Perhaps this is the reason she resisted the fact she had diabetes. This realization gave me a new perspective and a new compassion. I looked on as she dolloped a spoonful of bacon fat in her iron skillet and slipped it into the oven to heat. Then she mixed white cornmeal, flour, baking powder, a pinch of salt, milk and egg together in a bowl. When the grease in the pan melted, she pulled the frying pan out of the oven, dumped the grease in the corn meal mixture, gave it a stir, poured it back into the hot skillet where it sizzled and promised a brown, crunchy, crust. With one deft movement, she snatched up the cast iron skillet and stuck it in the oven. Watching her, I remembered how dad used to sit in the kitchen and watch her cook. One time while he watched her make cornbread, he turned to me and said, “You see how she handles that cast iron skillet, sis?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s why I don’t give her any flack.”

  A smile involuntarily spread across my face. I missed him. And I couldn’t lose my mom. Not now. Not for a long time.

  “Baby? Want some tea while we wait on the cornbread?”

  I could tell she was trying hard to erase any hard feelings after our fuss earlier in the morning.

  “Sure.” While she poured, I thought about Ty’s news. That might help us over this awkward patch. “Guess what? The New Yorker wants to buy some of Ty’s photos he took at Jema’s reception.”

  “Shut up your mouth. Really?”

  “Really. In fact, while Ty and I were speaking on the phone, someone called him from New York. I’m dying to know who it was and what they said.”

  “How did they get ahold of Ty’s pictures?”

  “I sent them to Scott and he worked his magic.”

  “I’d say Ty worked the magic.”

  “He did.” I held my finger up. “Just a sec.” I left to get my laptop and brought it to the kitchen. “Here they are, take a look.”

  She scrolled through the photos and occasionally murmured, “God love them. Poor souls.” When she finished, she wiped her face with the tail of her apron. “The boy is gifted, I’ll vow.”

  The timer went off and Momma rose, grabbed her hot pads, and pulled the skillet from the oven. We chatted as we always do over lunch and I felt pretty good about everything until she served herself a bowl of banana pudding. When she finished eating she headed straight to the bathroom. Only this time I felt I knew why. She was giving herself an insulin shot to ward off the sugar she’d just eaten. Lord knows how many shots she gave herself in a day.

  My phone rang and dragged me away from my worried thoughts. It was Ty. I punched ‘answer’. “Hey, was the call about your photographs?”

  “Yes. I’m stoked. I can’t believe this. Thank you baby for believing in me.”

  “Who called, what did they say?”

  “A guy named Taige. They are not only buying my photos, they want to fly me to New York City day after tomorrow to meet with someone who is shooting a documentary. They didn’t say who, but I don’t care. An all-expenses paid trip to the Big Apple, just think!”

  “That’s wonderful, baby.” I longed for the city and would have given my right arm to go with him.

  As if reading my mind he said, “Would you come with me?”

  “I’d love to, but…” I turned around to make sure Momma was out of earshot. “I’m meeting with Doctor Derrick in a few. It depends on what he says. How about drinks tonight? We can talk about it then.”

  “My place? I’ll even cook supper.”

  “Fabulous. Congratulations, sweetheart. No one deserves this more.”

  “Love you, hon.”

  “Love you, too. See you tonight.”

  After I disconnected the call, a satisfying image filled my mind—the surprised look on his parents’ faces wh
en they saw his photos in The New Yorker Magazine.

  ****

  Doctor Derrick’s wife and receptionist, Maud, glanced up when I stepped into the empty waiting room. It was good of them to stay over after hours in order for me to speak with him. “Hey, Avalee. Dan is in his office. Just go on in, honey.”

  “Thanks, Maud. How are you today?”

  “Fair to middling.” She stared at me through coke bottle lenses. Not getting any younger, you know. How about you?”

  “Well, I’ve been better. I’m worried about Momma.”

  “Is Cladie sick?”

  “I’m not sure, actually.”

  “Oh dear. We can’t have anything wrong with our Cladie. Go on in now and talk with Dan. I’ll be praying for her.”

  I nodded and walked down the hall familiar to me as my own home. The aseptic smell of isopropyl alcohol competed with the odor of the old building’s ancient vinyl floors and layers of paint. This man brought me into the world and he helped ease my father out of it. He was probably as close to retirement as Hugh. I hated the idea of either of them retiring, but they had certainly earned it.

  Doctor Derrick sat at his desk. A man in his seventies but still had a head full of unruly white hair. “Avalee.” He rose and walked over to me when I entered his office. Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he pulled me into a side-hug. “Hello, darlin’.”

  “Hi, Doctor Derrick.”

  He gestured to the seat across from his desk, moved to his, and sat. “I’m glad you’ve come home. We’ve missed you.”

  “I missed y’all, too. I’d almost forgotten my southern roots in the big city of New York. But I’m back to saying ‘y’all’ so I don’t think too much damage was done.”

  His laugh was deep and pleasant. “So, my dear, what brings you to me today?”

  “It’s Momma. Doctor Derrick, I had no idea she was diabetic. She has hidden it from me all these years and the only way I know now is because Hugh told me. I had gone to him to talk about some sort of supplement because I’d seen such a change. In the past month, she’s turned old before my eyes. When I came home last summer, she was spry and lively. Now she is dragging and grumpy to boot.”

  The doctor nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “And she gets angry when I try to talk to her about it.”

  “Yes, I know. That is what I come up against when I speak to her about her condition.”

  “So what’s up with that? Why does she resist so?”

  “She’s in denial. It is her defense mechanism.”

  “Defense? I don’t understand.”

  “Several things factor into a person wanting to put up a defense. Fear, frustration. Cladie doesn’t want to deal with or change her lifestyle. Last summer I suggested she see a psychotherapist, but she refused.”

  “Why a psychotherapist?”

  “To help her with her fears. To put them in perspective. But she equated that with me saying she was crazy.” He grinned. “She puffed up like a toad and left.”

  “So what can I do?”

  “Nothing. She is going to have to do this for herself.”

  I nodded. “You’re right, of course. But what will it take to wake her up?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. Instead, he laid his hand on my shoulder. “Maybe one day she’ll wake up and decide to take charge of her health.”

  “Here’s hoping.” I hugged the dear old man. “Thank you. I appreciate you seeing me after hours.”

  “My pleasure, hon. Have a good evening.”

  “You, too.” I hurried out the door to my good evening—Ty, wine, and our bright future, that is, if I could quiet the nagging fears haunting me.

  ****

  All the way to Ty’s home, I kept reminding myself, do not be a downer when you get there. His moment had finally come, and I was determined to celebrate him and not whine about my mother. Still, the conversation with her, Hugh, and Doctor Derrick kept playing in my head and before I knew it, I was gripping the steering wheel until my hands went numb.

  Relax. It is about Ty this evening.

  At least I had the presence of mind to stop for champagne on the way. When I pulled onto his driveway, Ty walked outside. I threw the car in park, jumped out, and ran into his arms.

  “We did it, baby.” He lifted me up. “You did it.”

  Taking his face in my hands, I took in every detail of his joyful expression. His broad smile was contagious. His eyes held so much joy that even his eyelashes couldn’t obscure his dark brown eyes. “You did it. This is all because of your talent, not mine.”

  Setting me on my feet, he leaned his forehead against mine. “It would never have happened if not for you. I love you.”

  “And I love you even more.”

  He touched my nose with his finger. “Not even possible.”

  “I have champagne. Let’s go inside to celebrate.”

  Inside his place, the spice aroma of curry excited my nose. I took a deep whiff. “Oh, yum.”

  “Don’t be impressed. It’s take out.” He opened the champagne, poured two glasses and handed me one.

  “No problem.” I put on my best-worried look. “I’m afraid there will be a lot of take-out in our future. I’m not much of a cook, even though my mom is a culinary goddess.”

  “I see a lot of visits to Miss Cladie’s in our future.”

  Worry nudged my mind. I hoped she would be around for our future. Pushing the troublesome thoughts back, I lifted my glass. “To Tyler Glen Jackson. May you achieve success far beyond your wildest dreams.”

  He clinked his glass against mine. “That, my love, has already happened.”

  I stopped mid-sip and tipped my head. “How so?”

  “When you said yes.” He leaned in and caressed his lips against mine before gently kissing my upper lip, then the bottom, then completely covering my mouth with his. So warm, so tender.

  Lord I loved this man.

  “So,” he refilled my glass even though it wasn’t empty. “Will you go with me to New York? It’ll be a quick trip, two nights tops.”

  My mind went back to Mom. I’m not sure what sort of face I made but he interjected, “You will get to see Scott.” This, most likely, was his way of tilting my decision in a favorable direction.

  “I want to go; I’m just concerned about Mom.”

  “Felix will keep an eye on her. Lexi and Molly Kate can drop in on her.”

  Of course he was right. It was only a couple of days and Felix was with her every day. Why not? “Okay, I’ll go. When do we leave?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “Perfect. Where are they putting you up?”

  “The Ritz.” He took a drink and wiggled his eyebrows. “Where else.”

  “Where else indeed. That is fabulous.” Going back to New York made me dizzy with excitement and without a doubt, the second glass of champagne could have had something to do with my giddiness. “Hey, let’s eat. I’m starved.”

  “Me, too, but not for food.” He drew me hard against him.

  “Down, boy.”

  Ty gave me his best little boy pout. I could have eaten him with a spoon right then and there, but settled for the curried lamb instead—for the time being. One day….

  ****

  On my drive home from Ty’s, I thought about what a rollercoaster the day had been with extreme highs and lows. Thankfully, it ended on a high. At least I hoped it had. No telling what I’d find when I arrived home.

  Lights shined from the kitchen window as I drove up our driveway. Momma stood at the sink. A sure sign of normalcy, thank the Lord. I walked into the house. Momma dried her hands and said, “Baby, we need to talk a minute.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed. Dread robbed me of my voice. I lowered onto the kitchen chair.

  Momma sat catty-cornered from me. “Sugar, I owe you an apology. My snapping at you was uncalled for. Would you forgive your old momma?”

  Relief rushed over me, leaving me weak
in its wake. “There’s nothing to forgive. I was just surprised; shocked would be a better word. And I was frightened. But that didn’t give me the right to come at you like a freight train.”

  Momma laced her fingers together and stared at her hands. “It’s just that I don’t like feeling different or dependent. I don’t like having to change the way I’ve eaten for over seventy years for heaven’s sake. I hate the idea of having to check my blood and giving myself shots.” She locked her gaze with mine. “Why, I’ve never been reliant on anything. Matter of factly, that is the reason I never took up smoking. When I was young, it was the thing to do, looking like movie stars and all. But I didn’t want to fool with them, having to have them close by, always stopping what I was doing to smoke because I was hooked. I was smart enough to know that when you were hooked, you didn’t smoke to look cool, you smoked to feel normal. Shoot. I already felt normal, so I figured, why start smoking and then have to pay to feel normal? Anyway, I’ll try to do better.”

  I stood and bent over her, wrapping my arms around her neck. “You have so many who love and depend on you. Especially me. I’m here for you, too. I know I wasn’t when Daddy died—”

  “—Now baby, don’t you go feeling bad about that. You were building your career.”

  “That may be, but I don’t know that I will ever be able to forgive myself for leaving you when you needed me the most. It won’t happen again.”

  I went back to my seat. “On a happier note, guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Some guy named Taige is flying Ty to New York City to talk to him about a photography job.”

  “Well, ain’t that exciting?”

  “Yes. He leaves day after tomorrow and will be gone two nights. I’m thinking of going with him, if you think you’ll be all right.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine. Besides, Felix checks in several times a day. And I’ll be good. I’ll check my levels faithfully every day.”

  “I really appreciate that, Mom. By the way, how are Felix and AJ working out?”

  “Like peanut butter and jelly. They’ve bonded. Why, you’d think AJ was Felix’s son.”

  The Grandfather clock’s low bongs and the high-pitched cuckoo clock both sounded ten o’clock. I stood and stretched. “Well, I think I’ll go to bed.” I leaned over and kissed her. “I love happy endings. Night.”