Enough

by Dawn L. Chiletz

  Seven months later

  IT’S A FRIDAY night again. I hate weekends when the kids go to their dad’s. The house seems so empty. Gwen is out on a first date with a guy she met online, and I’m dying to hear all about it. I have all my books spread out on the kitchen table, trying to study for a test, but I’m having trouble focusing.

  I decide to go for a quick run on the treadmill. I play all of my favorite motivational songs. My new favorite is “Fight Song” by Rachel Platten. My cool-down song will always remain “Try” by Colbie Caillat. It’s like that woman gets in my head and says exactly what I need to hear.

  I push extra hard tonight. I’m sweating from head to toe, but it feels good. I take a long hot shower and pile my wet hair on top of my head. I grab a bag of carrots and sit down in front of my books, attempting to focus on my notes. I’m doubling up on my classes. It’s a lot of work, but I’m determined to complete my degree as soon as possible.

  The slamming of the garage door jolts me out of my book. “Hey, how’d it go?” I ask excitedly.

  I hear her scream, and I burst from my seat in a panic. “Gwen? What’s wrong?”

  She wipes her eyes and huffs out a long, frustrated breath. She stammers to the refrigerator and removes a bottle of water. She silently wanders into the family room and falls into the couch.

  “Are you okay?” I question as I curl up next to her.

  She shakes her head no.

  “Did he touch you?” I ask in a panic.

  “God no!” she shouts. “You know I can take care of myself.”

  We sit in silence for what seems like forever. I glance over to her and lean my head on her shoulder. “Just tell me what I can do.”

  “Nothing. There’s nothing anyone can do.” She sniffs.

  I gaze into her eyes and try to understand, but she hasn’t told me anything. I can see that she’s holding back tears. She’s trying so hard to be strong. Gwen has a tough shell, and most people don’t realize how much she takes things to heart and how sometimes people really hurt her. She wears a smile so often that most people don’t know that her constant smile is used to mask her inner sadness.

  “Tell me,” I encourage. “It’s me, Gwen. You’ve seen me at my absolute worst. Please let me be there for you when you need me, for once.”

  She sighs heavily. “I know you’re here for me. I’m just frustrated. I’m not cut out for this crap. I honestly think there are no decent guys left in the world.”

  “I want to understand, but I’m confused. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Gwen brings her hand to her forehead, and her shoulders drop. “He was a douche. Totally misrepresented himself to me. He seriously thought we’d just have a drink and then he’d take me home. When I told him I wasn’t that kind of girl, he was done. Seriously, is that all guys want nowadays?

  I turn my body to face her. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.” I reach out to her and she stands in frustration.

  “I’m done with this dating bullshit. Men suck and there isn’t anyone out there who doesn’t have an agenda. I’m tired of being the dumbass who always tries to believe the best in people.”

  I gently pull her back toward the couch. She sits and sips her water. When she seems to calm down, I tell her my thoughts on the matter. “You’re a giver, Gwen. And yes, some people are shit, but some people are worth taking a chance on. You just need to find the right person. Your smile lights up a room the minute you enter it. You have a light about you. It’s precious and warm. I don’t want you to let some idiot take that away.”

  She leans away from me as her body goes rigid. “Don’t you get it?” she asks. “It’s like I have ‘gullible’ written on my forehead. We talked online for a week and then on the phone. I believed him when he said he wanted to get to know me. I liked him. He seemed like a good guy. Boy was I wrong. I always give my all and it gets me nowhere. It’s time I face the fact that I’m going to be alone. I’m just not capable of doing this anymore. I give up.”

  I feel and see the warmth leave her eyes, and I wish Grandma Kay were here. She would know the right thing to say.

  “Please tell me you’re not working tomorrow.”

  “No, why?” she asks.

  “I promised Kay I’d visit tomorrow. Will you come with me?”

  She eyes me suspiciously. “I know what you’re trying to do, Ev. I don’t need to paint a fucking door.”

  “I know you don’t, but maybe I do. Every time I’ve been over there since the divorce, I’ve avoided the idea of it. Maybe it’s time I finally painted that door and let it all go. Plus, it’ll be good to get out of this house, and I know Kay is better with words than I am. I want you to talk to her. I bet she can help.”

  “I don’t need help. I know what my problem is. I just told you. The people who hurt me are always the ones I let hurt me. The ones I believe in. The solution to my problem is to stay away from everyone. I’ll go to work and do my job, but I’ll never try again. I’m done. I’m just done.”

  I want to reason with her, but I know how she gets when she makes up her mind about something. She’s so stubborn. It’s one of the things I love about her, but it’s also one of the things that frustrate me the most. I just wish I could make her see what I see. There has to be someone out there who deserves her. I wish I could be the one to change her mind. But it’s going to take time and an unselfish heart to make her trust again and to show her she’s enough.

  WE BOTH ONLY slept a few hours, but we wanted to get an early start so we could take Kay to lunch. Gwen is fairly quiet as I drive to my grandmother’s house, and even though she seemed reluctant to come with me, I know it will make her feel better to get away for the day.

  I called Kay before we left and filled her in on what happened so Gwen wouldn’t have to explain her mood. As we head toward the red front door, I see Kay in the window. She opens it before we get there.

  “Hey, you two beauties!” she says, smiling brightly as we approach. “Now I know you said you wanted to take me to lunch, but I was in the mood to do some cooking, so I hope you don’t mind a big ole brunch!”

  I smile as she hugs me tightly, not letting go until I pull away. I swear the woman would hold me for hours if I let her. She does the same to Gwen, and I notice Gwen stays there, holding on. Kay keeps her arms around her and pats her back knowingly.

  After what seems like several minutes, Gwen pulls back and Kay lifts her chin. “Do you remember when I made you an honorary London, Gwenny?”

  Gwen sighs. “Kay, I love you to pieces, but I don’t need or want to paint today.”

  “Who said you were going to paint? I asked you a question. Now do you remember?”

  “Yes,” Gwen responds like a child kicking her shoe in the dust.

  “Well, we Londons don’t quit and we don’t throw in the towel. That goes for you, too,” she states, pointing her finger to Gwen’s chin.

  Gwen scratches her head in frustration and releases a deep breath. She’s stubborn, but so is my Grandma Kay. They’re a match made in wrestling arenas, and today I have a front row seat.

  “Now let’s eat before it gets cold!”

  After small talk about the kids and my classes, and after we’ve all eaten way too much food, we start to clear the table.

  As Gwen lifts a dish from the table, Kay states, “Woo wee that’s dirty, isn’t it, Gwenny?”

  Gwen nods. The grease has crusted and it’s a combination of slime and hardened pieces of leftover bacon, cheese, and eggs from the casserole.

  “Could you wash that for me?” she asks her.

  Gwen nods and takes it to the sink as we continue to clear the table. I see Grandma Kay peer over at Gwen and then turn to me and wink. She’s up to something. It makes me smile.

  Gwen scrubs the dish and seems to be making zero headway on getting it clean. “Hmm…” Kay says as she glances over her shoulder. “What should we do about that?”

  Gwen sighs. “Maybe we should let it soak for a bit. It’ll
loosen up the hard pieces and then it will be easier to wash away.”

  “Why, Gwenny! How come I didn’t think of that? You know, sometimes when I look at a dish like that one, it seems like all hope is lost. I think I’ll never be able to cook on it again. But time, boy… it has a way of changing things. Sometimes a little patience and love can make everything seem better than it is when you first look at it. Don’t you think?”

  Gwen nods and smiles as she wipes her hands on a towel. “Yeah, that dish will be back to itself in no time.”

  “Uh hmm,” Kay states. She smiles at me and I smile back. When we turn to Gwen, it’s apparent she’s figured out Kay thinks she’s the dish.

  “I’m not the platter, Kay. I can’t soak and be clean.”

  “Can’t you? Do think Everly’s plate was clean a few months ago? Doesn’t she seem better and stronger from it?”

  Gwen purses her lips.

  “My dish has been dirty, burned, and crusted more times than I can remember,” Grandma Kay explains as she waves her hand in the air and places the butter and jelly back into the refrigerator. “But it’s amazing how time and some good soap wash everything away. Your dish will be clean in no time because you’re a fighter. I know you are. You have a fire in those eyes. It just needs to be relit.”

  “Kay, I know you mean well, but I’m done. I’m tired of fighting my way through life. It’s just one piece of shit thing after another.”

  “Aww, don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining, Gwen.”

  I chuckle to myself. Grandma Kay grew up in the South, and she has some doozies hidden in that mind of hers.

  Gwen can’t help but smile. “I’m not peeing on you!” She laughs.

  “You’re angry and sad and I get that. But don’t tell me you’re not a fighter. Once a fighter, always a fighter. I wouldn’t have made you a London if I didn’t think you had the grace and determination to live up to it. Sometimes we get hurt, but there’s a lesson in everything. We just have to wash it off and try again. Now, enough is enough,” she says as she puts the last plate in the dishwasher. Let’s go for a walk. It’s a beautiful day, and these old bones need to get some exercise.”

  I wrap my arm in hers as we all take off down the street. We pass a little girl writing on her sidewalk in chalk. She smiles happily when Grandma Kay passes by.

  “Hi, Grannie!” She waves.

  “Hi, doll face! Where’s my hug?”

  The little girl drops her chalk and throws her arms around Kay’s waist. Of course Kay doesn’t let go.

  “Wanna draw with me?” she asks.

  I’m surprised as hell when Kay sits down next to her and starts to color. Gwen and I stand nearby, bewildered.

  “Hey, baby doll, these girls are my grandaughters, Everly and Gwen. Can they draw too?”

  “Yep!” She smiles and runs to take Gwen and me by the hands. We can’t say no, so we spend the next hour drawing flowers and clouds and whatever else she asks us to. I see Gwen genuinely smile, and I can tell she’s out of her own head, even if it’s just for a bit.

  After we wave goodbye, we decide to head back. Gwen and I sit on the front step while Kay runs inside to use the restroom. It’s a gorgeous day, and it makes me realize how fast summer is approaching.

  “Hey…” Gwen states as she takes my hand and turns it over, inspecting it. “Your nails!”

  I glance down at my hand and try to figure out what’s wrong with them. “What about them?”

  “You actually have them.”

  I eye her skeptically. I’m not following.

  “I hadn’t noticed until now, but your nails are growing.”

  She’s right. Somewhere along the last few weeks, I stopped chewing my nails and they started to take shape.

  “You didn’t see it either, did you?”

  “I really didn’t.” I don’t remember when or why I stopped chewing on them. I clearly remember the day I started, but at some point, I didn’t feel the need to bite them anymore.

  Grandma Kay returns with the can of red paint and three brushes.

  Gwen sighs.

  “Now, I brought you a brush, Gwen, but you can sit and watch if you want. I know Everly has been meaning to come over here and paint this door for a while. Her heart has needed some fixin’.”

  “Hey, Kay. Look…” Gwen holds up my hand. “Ev has nails.”

  Grandma Kay’s eyes pop and she takes my hand in hers. “You do! You have nails.”

  I wonder to myself why it’s such a big deal to everyone, and then it hits me. I started chewing my nails the moment I first doubted myself. At some point I must have started to believe in me again, and my bad habit ended as suddenly as it started.

  I smile at my grandmother and take the brush in my hand. As I dip into the red paint, I realize something’s different. I pause and stare at my brush as the paint drips back into the can.”

  “What’s wrong?” Gwen asks.

  I lift my head and glance back and forth between them. “It’s been a while now since I painted. I kept feeling drawn to coming over here and paint away my sadness, but classes, kids, and just stuff in general kept getting in my way. Now that I’m here and I’m ready to paint, I feel… I feel like I really don’t need to do it, I just want to. I’ve never felt that way before.”

  Grandma Kay sets down her brush and smiles at me. The light of the sun shines from behind her and casts a glow around her. It reminds me of the time I came over to paint after I find out I was pregnant and thought I was going to be raising Kale alone.

  “Well, finally.”

  I hold my hand up to my eyes to try to see her past the glare of the sun. She sits down next to me and kisses my forehead.

  “Finally what?” Gwen asks.

  “This may come as I surprise to you, but this big ole red door… It isn’t magic.” She shrugs her shoulders and Gwen and I glance at each other and grin. She pauses and asks, “Do you know why I chose the color red?”

  I shake my head.

  “Because it’s the color of emotions. It’s anger, passion, and fire. It’s strength and power and, most importantly, it’s the color of love. When you’re sad or hurt, sometimes you feel all those things. Painting this door doesn’t solve problems and it doesn’t fix hearts. That magic comes from inside. You fix yourself. This door just helps you see your own change.”

  Gwen picks up a brush and starts to paint. She stares at the door with a pained expression as she strokes the side with a fresh coat. I pick up my brush and start to paint, and Grandma Kay smiles.

  I stop for a moment and gaze at her.

  “What is it, songbird?” she asks.

  “You know what I just realized? I mean… deep down inside I think I knew it all along, but it just came to me, and I know in my heart it’s the real, honest truth.”

  She turns her head to the side and listens intently.

  “Whenever I need you, Gram, you’re always there. It’s you that’s the magic. It’s never been the door. It’s you.”

  For the first time in years, I see a small tear slide down her cheek. I leap up from the ground and pull her in to me. “I love you, Gram. It’s you who keeps me sane.” As I wrap my arms around this wonderful, amazing gift, I hold on tightly. This time, I don’t let go.

  A year later

  IT’S HARD TO believe how much time has passed since the divorce. It’s my second month working as a nurse at St. Mary’s. They hired me right after graduation. Gwen said she had nothing to do with it, but I wonder if she’s lying. Gwen told me she heard awesome things from everyone I worked with during my clinicals and that I shouldn’t have been surprised that I was the top choice for hire when I got my degree. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. If someone had told me when I was lying in bed at the hospital after losing my baby that I’d be where I am right now, feeling how I feel, I would have never believed them.

  It’s been a long road of recovery for me. I’m still trying to figure out who I am, and most days are a cha
llenge, but I can feel myself getting stronger every day and I feel so blessed to have the family and friends that I do.

  I still remember how I felt when I got my first paycheck. It was direct deposit, so I didn’t get to hold it, but I remember how it felt to look in my account and see I’d made my own money. To know that I could support myself and the kids was an indescribable feeling. I used some of the money from the divorce settlement to buy a small house and I was able to stay in the same school district so the kids didn’t have to switch schools. The house is modest and much smaller than the one I had with Mike, but it’s mine.

  The kids have had to learn to accept riding the bus. They’re doing better with the all the changes, but I remind myself daily to make sure I don’t take their emotions for granted. Now that I’m working nights, things are a little complicated. Mike takes them three nights a week, and I try to work twelve-hour shifts so that I can be home when they’re home. One night a week, Grandma Kay spends the night while I’m working. She’s a true blessing to me, and the kids adore her. I sleep while they’re at school and I’m there to make dinner and do homework. Changing my internal clock was tough at first, but it’s worth it to have that time with the kids.

  Gwen works afternoons, so I’m usually going to work when she’s leaving. We try to get together once a week, but it’s not the same. I miss hanging out with her every day. I know she misses us too. It’s a Thursday and I’m not working tonight. I stay up late after the kids go to bed just to keep with my sleep schedule, and Gwen always texts when she gets home from work. I call her when I get it so we can catch up on our day.

  It’s 11:40 and she hasn’t texted. I assume she was exhausted after her shift and fell asleep, but when my phone rings I leap up to answer it in a panic. She never calls.

  “What’s wrong?” I don’t even say hello.