by Ingrid Thoft
“It was,” Greta said, dabbing at her eyes with her paper napkin.
Risa sat back in the booth. Fina could see a faint tremor in Risa’s hands, which she slipped into her lap.
“Elizabeth’s son predeceased her by how many years?” Fina asked. Until Risa gave her a sign to back off, she’d forge ahead.
“Twenty-two, no, twenty-three years,” Greta said. “I think that’s right.”
“More coffee?” The waitress appeared at the table. Risa put her hand over her mug, but Greta pushed hers forward.
“I know you’re curious about your mother,” Greta said after the waitress had left, “but I’m not sure how all this information is helpful.”
Risa looked at Fina, who tilted her head in question. Risa gave the tiniest nod.
“Greta,” Fina said, “did your sister ever make any effort to find Risa?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“All those years—especially after her son died—she never expressed an interest in finding her firstborn?”
“She didn’t to me,” Greta said, “but that doesn’t mean she didn’t ever.”
“But you said you were best friends,” Fina reminded her. “Who else would she have discussed it with?”
“I don’t know. This was all a long time ago.”
Fina frowned. “But it wasn’t really. Your sister died eleven months ago. She had forty-five years to reach out to Risa, and she didn’t.”
“But that’s not my fault!” Greta said. “That was her decision.”
“Absolutely,” Fina said, pulling off more popover. “But did you ever broach the subject with your sister or do some searching of your own?”
Greta pulled her cardigan sweater tight across her chest. The top two buttons were undone, and she struggled to do them up. “Not really, but you have to understand, it was a different time.”
“I know it was different forty-five years ago,” Fina said, “but it wasn’t so different one year ago.”
Greta shook her head. “She didn’t want to be reminded of it. Elizabeth didn’t want to talk about it, so we didn’t.”
“She wanted to forget about it,” Risa said quietly, “about me. That’s what you’re really saying.”
Fina reached down and squeezed Risa’s knee. For once, Greta was quiet.
They sat for a moment in silence. Fina stirred the lumped chocolate from the bottom of her mug into the remaining liquid.
“If you didn’t need a kidney,” Risa asked suddenly, “would you have found me?”
Greta’s eyes widened. “I . . . Of course I would have.”
“But you never tried to before,” Risa insisted.
“Because Elizabeth was alive and didn’t want me to, but I always planned to find you.”
Fina studied Greta’s face. It was hard to read, but if Fina had to wager a guess, she’d guess that Greta was lying. She might have even been lying to herself, but Fina found it hard to believe she would have reached out to Risa if her health were good. In Fina’s experience, people did amazingly hard things when they were spurred on by a deep-seated drive. Some projects—like finding one’s birth parents or single parenthood—were only undertaken with a strong dose of commitment and fortitude. Fina didn’t think Greta possessed either quality in any great quantity.
“So you were going to contact me?” Risa asked again. “Even if you had remained healthy?”
“Yes. Yes, I was.”
“What kind of relationship do you want to have moving forward?” Fina asked Greta. “What are your expectations, aside from a kidney?”
“Whatever Risa wants,” Greta insisted. “It’s up to her.”
On the face of it that sounded respectful, but to Fina it also sounded like a cop-out. Greta should have been anxious to meet her great-nephews. She should have been planning for the events and milestones that were part of having an extended family. Fina had no aspirations for a white picket fence or 2.3 children, but she loved participating in her niece’s and nephews’ lives. School plays, soccer games, graduations—sure, they were boring, but Haley, Ryan, Teddy, and Chandler never were. She relished her time with them and took pleasure in the facets that parenthood added to her relationship with Scotty. You saw your siblings differently when they were also someone’s parent.
Fina glanced at her watch. It had been almost an hour, and Risa looked tired.
“Was there anything else, Risa?” she asked her friend.
Risa shook her head. “Not right now.”
“Is there anything you want to ask Risa?” Fina asked Greta.
Greta touched her hair near her temple. “I just want to say that I’m so happy to meet you, Risa, and I hope we can get to know each other even better.”
In the transplant ward, Fina added silently.
Goodness, she was cynical.
25.
The drive back to Boston was as quiet as the drive to Kittery had been. Risa didn’t want to talk, and Fina respected that. When they pulled up in front of Risa’s house, Fina put the car in park and looked at her.
“When or if you want to talk, I’m here,” Fina said.
“I know. I need a little time to digest it.”
“Of course.”
“I’m guessing you have an opinion?” Risa asked.
“I always have an opinion, but I’m going to digest, as well,” Fina said. “I don’t think either of us should dismiss our first impressions, but we also don’t have to act on them, whatever they might be.”
“Okay.” Risa reached over and gave her a hug. “Thanks, Fina.”
“I know this feels out of control, but you get to decide what’s right for you.”
“That’s what’s so scary; I feel like I’m deciding someone else’s fate in addition to my own.”
Fina shook her head. “You’re not, and you’re not deciding your fate, just one piece of your life. You could be hit by a bus tomorrow and this whole discussion would be moot.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Risa said.
Fina grinned. “Keep in touch.”
She watched Risa climb the front stairs and disappear into the house.
Fina needed to switch gears and turn her attention back to Liz Barone, not an easy task. All this talk of siblings and family actually made her feel a little sentimental, but she didn’t get paid to navel-gaze. She pulled out the list of stores that Angelo had provided and noted that one was nearby.
Men’s Universe was on Route 9 in Natick and featured more athletic gear and casual clothes than business attire. Fina found a woman of average size behind the counter, and she seemed generally interested in helping Fina identify her mystery man. Mary, the saleswoman, was studying the photo.
“Do you think that’s an insignia or just a smudge?” Fina asked her, pointing at the area on the man’s ankle.
Mary brought the picture close to her face and examined the image. Fina wondered if she had a big ’n’ tall fella in her life or if this was just a job to Mary. She couldn’t have been more than five feet three inches, and Fina was trying to imagine life—okay, sex—with a tall man. She knew the mechanics would still work, but what would it be like gazing at your lover’s rib cage?
“I can’t tell for sure,” Mary said, “but I think we used to carry those socks. Hold on a second.”
She disappeared into a back room and came out a moment later struggling under the weight of a stack of thick binders. Fina grabbed a couple to lessen the load while Mary cleared a space on the counter. She flipped open the first binder and started thumbing through the pages.
“So you don’t carry them anymore?” Fina asked.
“Nah. We didn’t sell enough. They were expensive.” Mary brushed back a lock of her hair and scanned the pages. Fina watched as she traced her finger down columns of data, her bright pink nail serving as a pointer.
<
br /> The bell at the front door jangled as a customer entered, and Mary looked in that direction. “Let me know if you need help finding anything,” she called out across the space.
The man nodded and started perusing a rack of sale items.
“It’s not in there,” Mary said, closing the first binder and moving on to a second.
Fina didn’t want to breathe down her neck, so she wandered away from the counter and checked out a display of pajamas. Did men even wear pajamas these days? Men who weren’t her father’s age? As far as she knew, her brothers slept in boxers or sweat shorts, and Milloy and Cristian slept in nothing when she had the pleasure of their company. She picked up a pajama top on a hanger and held it up to her body. It reached from her shoulders to her knees. For a brief instant, Fina felt delicate.
“I think this might be it,” Mary said, summoning Fina back to the counter. She rotated the binder so Fina could get a good look at a picture showing a pair of athletic socks with an insignia near the ankle. The photo of the mystery man was too blurry to provide a positive match, but it looked promising.
“Does any place around here carry these socks?” Fina asked.
“I wouldn’t know. I can give you the manufacturer’s info, and you could ask them.”
“That would be great,” Fina said.
“It’s so nice of you to go to such trouble to find this man,” Mary said, jotting the name of the company and the sock details on a Post-it note. “Just when I start to feel bad about my fellow man, I meet someone doing something good, and it makes me feel so much better.”
“Well,” Fina said, “I’m just doing what I can.”
Back in her car she felt a brief surge of guilt for misleading Mary, but she got over it when she reminded herself that the man in the picture had tried to barbecue her on the Tobin Bridge. Fina wasn’t doing the exact good deed that Mary credited to her, but she was doing a good deed by getting a dangerous man off the street. One less creep made Mary’s world a little bit safer, even if she didn’t know it.
—
It was close to dinnertime when Fina swung by Patty and Scotty’s house. Patty was in the kitchen on the phone, the family calendar on her laptop. Fina climbed onto one of the stools at the island.
“Hi,” Patty said a few minutes later, once the date of the rummage sale meeting had been confirmed.
“Hey. Is this a bad time? I was in the neighborhood.”
“No, it’s good. I’m just catching up on all the crap that I need to keep track of.”
“Where are the kids?”
“Chandler is upstairs playing in his room, Teddy is at a friend’s, and Ryan should be home any minute from soccer practice. Haley is having dinner at a friend’s house.”
“It’s quiet,” Fina said.
“I know. Isn’t it glorious?”
Fina didn’t respond.
“You okay?” Patty asked, a concerned look on her face.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Is it something about the car fire?”
“No, no,” Fina said. “I’m making progress on that.”
Patty walked over to the built-in desk and gathered a small stack of paper. She brought it over to the island and began sorting it into different piles.
“If you ever need a kidney,” Fina said a minute later, “I would give you one of mine.”
Patty looked at her, bemused. “Okay. Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
“Nope. Just that I love you and am lucky to have you for a sister-in-law.”
“I love you, too, Fina, and I’d give you a kidney, although Scotty would probably be a better match.”
“Maybe, but could you imagine the whining? ‘It hurts! Am I going to have a scar? When can I eat again?’”
Patty laughed. “Good point.” She tidied up one of the piles and grabbed a manila envelope from a cubbyhole above the desk. “You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked Fina again.
“Absolutely. I am a little concerned that my expression of affection makes you so worried, but I suppose it’s out of character.”
“Actually, you express your affection quite frequently,” Patty said. “I just know that everyone relies on you, and I’m not sure who you rely on.”
Fina smiled. “I have people, don’t worry. You’re one of them, even if it’s not obvious.”
“Are you staying for dinner?” Patty asked, stowing the manila folder back on the desk and pulling open the refrigerator door.
“No, I’m good, thanks. I’m still dreaming about the popover I had a few hours ago.”
“Where did you have a popover? They’re hard to find these days.”
“The Popover Place in Kittery, Maine.”
Patty raised an eyebrow in question.
“No, I wasn’t shopping.”
“Glad to hear it,” Patty said. “That would really be cause for concern.”
Fina slid off the bar stool and gave Patty a hug. “I’m off like a prom dress. First I’ll pop up and say hi to Chandler.”
Fina found her nephew in his bedroom, which was an example of controlled chaos. Unlike Elaine, who routinely invaded her children’s privacy, Patty and Scotty tried to respect their kids’ space, with some caveats. Food wasn’t allowed upstairs, and their belongings, if not organized and tidy, had to at least be contained. Chandler’s room was full of fancy canvas bins holding books, toys, sporting equipment, and even socks. If Fina ever adopted an organizational system, it might look something like this.
She spent a few minutes visiting with her nephew, then ventured back downstairs and bumped into her brother at the front door.
“Hey,” Scotty said, dropping his briefcase.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“You here for dinner?” Scotty asked.
“Nah, I have plans. I just wanted to stop by and say hi.”
“Ah. Found our bomber yet?”
“I don’t think it was a bomb,” Fina said, “technically speaking.”
“Right,” Scotty responded. “Now’s the time to split hairs.”
“I’m making progress,” Fina assured him.
He started toward the kitchen.
“Scotty, wait a sec. We need to talk about Haley and this Florida trip that Mom keeps pushing for.”
Scotty sighed. “I’m not going to make Haley do anything she doesn’t want to do, Fina.”
“Of course not, but I don’t think we should be acting like it’s her decision. We’re the adults; we should be actively protecting her; you know, keeping her away from sexual predators.”
Scotty winced. “I hate it when you say things like that.”
“The truth, you mean,” Fina said. “You hate it when I speak the truth.”
His shoulders sagged. “So what are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that we tell Mom that Haley will not be seeing her father in Florida because we are concerned for her safety and well-being.”
“If she’s not going to go anyway, why antagonize Mom?”
“It’s not about antagonizing Mom—although that is an added bonus. It’s about demonstrating to Haley that we have her best interests at heart and that we’ll protect her even when things get messy.”
“I’m not getting in between you and Mom,” Scotty said. “How about if we make Haley unavailable for the visit, and you do whatever you want.”
“Fine.”
Scotty started toward the kitchen again, but stopped just short of the hallway. “Mom just has this fantasy of Rand and Haley and Karla and her kids. Like one big happy family.”
“Wait. Is Karla the girlfriend?” Fina asked.
Scotty nodded.
“And she has kids?” Fina closed the gap between them. “Girls or boys?”
Scotty paused. A moment later, recognition spread a
cross his face. “I think they’re girls.”
“So our brother”—Fina leaned closer to Scotty—“the pedophile, is dating a woman with daughters?”
Scotty nodded slowly.
“Oh my God,” Fina said, grasping her head in her hands.
“You don’t know what’s actually happening, Fina,” Scotty cautioned her.
“I feel like throwing up,” she said.
“Go to the bathroom if you’re going to puke.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Fina said, rubbing her temples. “This is worse than I thought.”
“But it was bound to happen,” he said. “Did you think he was going to remain single forever?”
Fina threw up her hands. “I guess I didn’t think. I didn’t want to contemplate Rand’s future.”
Scotty reached out and rubbed her shoulder. “Trust me, I’m not happy about this, either, but there’s nothing we can do.”
“But we can’t do nothing.”
“Fina, you can’t fix everything, and you can’t protect everyone.”
She squeezed his hand and left, not trusting herself to respond.
—
Pamela sat on the couch, her phone in hand. She’d just finished a call with Deb, who’d been none too pleased about the last-minute cancellation of their dinner date, but it couldn’t be helped. Pamela did not have the energy to make small talk, and she definitely didn’t want to discuss her feelings with Deb.
It was becoming clear that Deb was a big sharer who believed the road to intimacy was paved with confessions and the dissection of personal interactions. This had never been Pamela’s approach, and she didn’t believe that she would change her tune if only the right person came along. She was fifty-four years old; she was who she was going to be. It wasn’t that change wasn’t possible, but after half a century, you didn’t change unless there was an enormous benefit to doing so. So far, Pamela couldn’t see one. She wanted to keep things casual, but doubted that such an arrangement would suit Deb. She wanted happily ever after, whereas Pamela would be fine with happily right now.
She’d spent the better part of the day ensuring that Liz Barone’s name was scrubbed from every mailing list and database associated with her office. The recent fund-raising plea sent to Liz had been a genuine mistake, but it still looked bad, like she had ignored a sick woman’s wishes. Her fears that she and NEU were under a microscope were being realized; this was abundantly clear given Fina Ludlow’s comments about Kevin.
