Dating For Decades

by Tracy Krimmer

  The room is quiet, something that doesn’t happen too often. Are they all waiting for me to say something? Is this where I inform them of my relationship with Keith? I can foresee it already. They all bet how long it would take for us to get together and now it’s happened. They win. I realize they will find out somehow, though, so I would rather it came from me.

  “I guess I can go.” Everyone’s eyes dart to me. I tug at the sleeves of my jacket and pull it off, swinging it on the back of my chair. No one’s attention has moved from me in the time it took me to straighten my coat and turn back around. “I wanted to let you all know that I’m dating someone.”

  Noelle’s eyes light up. “Dating, dating? Or like Cassie dating?”

  I want to be upset with that question for clarification, but I understand why she asks it this way. “Dating, dating. It’s new. Very new, like only a few weeks new.” And I don’t want anything to ruin it.

  “Is this why you haven’t come to any meetings?” Luna interjects with pain in her voice.

  I’ve hurt the group. I’ve let them down. They deserve an explanation. “I’m sorry about that, Luna. I owe you all an apology.”

  “No phone call, text. Nothing.” Luna points her finger at me, her nose crinkled and eyes shrinking to slits. “You would have had my ass if I pulled that.”

  I nod my head. “You’re right. I’m really sorry. There isn’t anything more I can say. I’ve been going through some things with my mother and thought I needed time away.”

  “Time away? We’re here for you.” Monica, oh, Monica. I miss her motherly ways. “You can always come to us. Tell us what’s going on with your mom.”

  I don’t know if I want to do this, but they want to help me. When people extend their hand to me, I push it away. This time, I won’t. So this time, I don’t. I break into the tale about my mother, my childhood spent in a furniture absent home and random homes of men I didn’t know. I dive into the details of her addiction and her sickness. I exhale deeply, but the weight isn’t off my shoulders. I still feel like a boulder is on my back, and I’m trying my best not to let it crash down on me.

  “Wow,” Cheyenne’s mouth drops open. “We had no idea.”

  “How could you have known? I didn’t want you to know about this part of me. I kept this part of me locked up, this past I’ve moved on from, and now it’s haunting me again. Even though I’m going to see her, I’m still unsure if I want to.” I shake my head and focus on my nails as I pick at the cuticle. “I’m not even sure what I should say to her.”

  “Speak the truth to her, Cassie. Tell her how you feel.” Monica rises from her chair and kneels next to me, resting her hand on my knee. “You have years of pain tucked away inside of you. This is your chance to speak your truth.”

  I nod again, placing my hand on top of hers. This is a level of closeness I’ve never experienced in all my years running this group. As fast as I nodded, I’m now shaking my head. “I can’t.” My lips quiver as the tears release from my eyes. “I want to, but I can’t.”

  “You’ll only regret it if you don’t.” Luna offers the words, and I’m cautious to accept them as advice. I really upset her with my absence.

  Raising my head and the tears still falling, I say, “Am I a horrible person if I do?”

  “No one is telling you to go in there and rip into her.” Noelle joins Monica at my side. “But you need to say what you’ve been thinking all these years, what you’ve been feeling.”

  I huff in some air as I swallow my tears. They’re all staring at me, the care evident in their eyes. My lips are trembling, and while I’m surrounded by support and love, I can’t imagine feeling more disconnected than I am right now. My mother is dying. Dying. And I’m entirely lukewarm about the situation. I’m the worst person in the world. “I’m broken.”

  Monica cocks her head and runs her hand up and squeezes my knee. “Cassie, we’re all broken in some way.”

  “You know I have nothing but baby daddy drama,” Luna says.

  “And my ex-fiancé thought it would be a wonderful idea to sleep with my sister.” Cheyenne smiles.

  For some reason, Cheyenne’s comment makes me laugh, and we all burst into chuckles. The tears are sticking to my face and drying to my cheeks. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.” Cheyenne offers me a tissue, and I gracefully accept.

  “We’re all here for you.” Cheyenne puts her hand on my shoulder. “Now tell us, who are you dating?”

  I exhale and gather myself for a moment before I reply. “Keith.”

  “I knew it!” Monica hops up and claps her hands together as she breaks into a little dance. This is a side of her I’ve never seen.

  “Okay, okay, you all predicted it would happen and it did. Happy now?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact we are.” Noelle says this proudly as though it were always meant to happen. “You know, you’re not the only one with a steady man in their life now.”

  “Really, Noelle? Did you meet someone?”

  She shakes her head. “Not me.” I wait as they all take their seats again. “Cheyenne.”

  “Cheyenne?” I wink at her. “Good job! When did this happen? Tell me about it.”

  “Well, I met him while pumping gas of all places, and we exchanged our cell numbers. At our last meeting, Keith encouraged me to put my fears aside and call the guy. So I did. And we’ve actually been on four dates in the past week.”

  “Four in a week? Wow! That sounds pretty serious to me.”

  Cheyenne squeezes her shoulders together. “I guess sometimes you know when it’s time to let go and no longer let your fears hold you down, but instead drive you forward.”

  “That’s a very interesting view.”

  “Those are Keith’s words. And they really stuck with me.”

  “Good for you, Cheyenne. I’m very happy for you. Luna, what’s going on with you?”

  “Not a whole lot on the dating scene. I’ve had a little bit of drama with my son’s father, and that’s held me back a little bit. But I’m making a New Year’s resolution to put myself out there and try something new. I think I might give online dating a shot.”

  This makes me think of Lucille. I wonder if she’s spending her Christmas with Billy, or if they decided to tie the knot. She’s a successful story of online dating if I’ve ever heard one. Sure, they weren’t strangers, but considering the number of years from when they saw each other last, they might as well be. “I think that’s a great plan,” I encourage her. “Just be careful. There are some crazies out there.”

  “Not any crazier than me!” Luna’s dig on herself draws out a series of laughs we can’t stop. For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, I feel as though I’m in the company of friends, and for a while I’m able to forget about what awaits me tomorrow.

  A harrowing truth.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Nine

  I don’t belong here. Of all the things I could be doing today, visiting my mom in the hospital is not top on the list. I shut off the car and lay my head back on the headrest. Was I stupid to deny Shannon, Sasha, and Keith’s invitation to come with and support me? As much as I want to do this on my own, the last time I saw her I acted like a child. If I can’t be an adult about this, maybe I shouldn’t even be here.

  I yank my keys out of the ignition. Damn it, I’m doing this. Noelle, Monica, Luna, and Cheyenne all have confidence in me. I should have confidence in me like I do in everything else. Sasha said she’s in a pretty bad state, not even able to respond at this point, so I won’t have to deal with her comments back to me. I can say what I need to say and leave.

  I enter the hospital and check in at the front desk. The person hands me a Visitor sticker with my name and the room number on it. “Fifth floor,” he tells me as I slap the sticker onto my jacket. My knees shake as I wait for the elevator, and when I finally step on and the door closes, my stomach drops to the floor. Not the normal stomach dropping when the elevator takes off feeling, but an Oh my g
osh I’m about to see the woman who screwed up my entire life and never gave a shit about me. Should I have brought something? Is there a protocol for the ICU? Will she be expecting anything? And what do I say when I get in there? I want to turn around, but I can’t. I promised Shannon. I gave my word to the group. And Keith will be disappointed. If there’s one thing I’ll never do, it’s break a promise.

  The doors open and I’m face-to-face with the sterile area, a large corridor before me. I maneuver my way through the halls following the signs for ICU. When I finally reach it, I’m in open area with five rooms with clear glass and a nurse station in the center. I put one foot in front of the other because that’s all I can remember to do. My hands are in front of me, and I’m picking at the skin, yanking at it and pulling out it, until I eventually pull the arms to my jacket down so I’m holding a wad of cloth in my hand.

  The nurses at the desk are chatting, throwing their heads back in laughter and typing on their computers. I’m slightly irritated by this. Isn’t an intensive care unit supposed to be somber? Patients lie on their death beds, and they’re out here joking and going on about their lives. I shake my head before bypassing them to my mother’s room.

  I take my time and the closer I get to her room, the harder my heart beats. She’s in the fourth room. I can see her lying there, tubes coming out of everywhere. Her head is turned to the left, away from me. David is at her side, reading her a book. I remind myself to breathe. David notices me and puts the book down. I watch as he leans over and kisses her forehead.

  I’m standing outside the room, David coming toward me. I guess he’s my stepdad? If I wasn’t uncomfortable before, I sure am now. I try to swallow and panic for a moment when I can’t. When I finally manage, he’s in front of me.

  “Are you Cassie?”

  I nod, unable to form any words. He’s shorter than I expected. The pictures made him appear taller, and he’s much less radiant. I suppose his wife is dying behind that glass so he wouldn’t exactly be cheerful.

  “I’m David. David Heckler.”

  My mother married someone with a last name like that? I imagine his grade school years. He probably was called Heckles, or Hickey, or maybe even they manipulated it into David the Pecker. No wonder she didn’t change her last name. Noble is a bold name. Proud.

  “Hello. How … how is she doing?” Dumb question. She’s doing crappy. But what else am I supposed to say to him?

  He’s blocking the doorway, holding the door slightly shut. “She’s heavily drugged. They can’t keep her blood pressure up so they’ve laid her flat on her bed and have her on Levophed and Neosynephrine.”

  These terms mean nothing to me. All I hear is Leo and Neo and I gather they do something for her blood pressure.

  “When you’ve been here as much as I have, these drug names roll off your tongue.”

  I bet he’s been here almost every minute of every day and I only cared to show up when she’s close to taking her last breath. Here’s a man standing before me who committed to my mother after all the drugs, after the HIV, after all of it. He’s looked past it all. Why can’t I? “Is she speaking?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Besides the low blood pressure, her kidneys are shot. She’s unresponsive. The machine is doing her breathing for her. You’re not too late, but …” he trails off and gazes past me. “She doesn’t have long.”

  I swallow again and this time, I’m mourning for his loss before she’s even gone. Through his tired eyes, his love shines through, bringing light to a place that only darkness can typically consume. “Thank you for being there for her.” I shift my weight from one leg to the other and with every ounce of pride swallowed I add, “since I wasn’t.”

  I allow him to put his hand on my shoulder. “She loves you, Cassie. She wishes she could do everything over. She can’t, and she’s accepted that. Please go in and see her. Say your goodbyes.” His hand releases. “She wouldn’t want to live like this. I waited for you, so you could say goodbye. I’m … we’re … the doctors.”

  He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Once I say what I have to say, he’s taking her off the machine. She’ll be gone. He’s strong, David. I admire he shares this with me and does it without shedding a tear. It’s not that he’s not sad — I know this — he’s her rock. And he’s exhausted. “Thank you. Why don’t you get yourself some coffee? You could use a cup.”

  He doesn’t open his mouth when he smiles or laughs, but he seems pleased with my suggestion. “I sure could. I’m fine, though. I want to stay close. I’ll give you two some private time.” He reaches out and touches my arm. “Look, don’t be a stranger. I’m glad we finally met.”

  She’s talked about me before with him. A lot. It’s obvious through this short conversation. I never had a dad in my life and I don’t need one now. But maybe I have room for a friend. “Me, too.” He moves out of the way so I can enter my mom’s room. I wait for him to be out of my sightline before I step through the large entryway to the room.

  I’m in shock at what’s before me. She lies in the bed, tubes coming out of her nose and chest and a huge one attached to her mouth. The room is silent except for the beeping of the machines. Standing outside the room, it didn’t seem this bad. I cover my mouth at what I’m seeing. Her eyes are closed and she looks at peace, though she’s much thinner than when I saw her last. I wonder if she is in any pain.

  I gently step beside her, trying to be as soft as I can with my steps. “Mom?” I can’t believe I’m calling out to her. I haven’t called her that with such a soft, pleading voice in decades. I say it again, but she doesn’t move.

  I keep my jacket on but unzip it. I’m a little hot even though it’s only twenty-something degrees outside. As I approach her, her chest is moving up and down, but I know the machine is doing it for her. When they take all the tubes out and stop the machine, will she just stop breathing? Will she gasp for air, or maybe even wake up and see me? It’s too much to think about, too much to handle. “Mom, it’s me, Cassie.”

  I swear she tries to open her eyes, but I know this isn’t possible. Did I see her index finger twitch? I’m sure it’s a reflexive action if I did. Sasha said that she was in a bad state, but I didn’t expect to not be able to have her talk back to me. She’s lying there, helpless, unable to speak or barely move, and her eyes open barely to a squint. Sasha should have said it was this bad. She’s sleeping a lot she told me every time I texted with her. She clearly isn’t sleeping. She has no idea what is going on around her.

  I pull one of the chairs over by the window to the bed. When I sit down, I go to touch her hand, but then quickly retreat. I want to be with her, I want to say so many things, but I’m not ready for that. I try to gather my thoughts, but all the words are floating in my head, bumping into each other as they try to formulate into sentences. I close my eyes and lean my head back as I take a deep breath. One, two, three, four, five. I exhale on the same count before I begin to speak.

  ”I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to come see you. You can understand, though, why I didn’t. Our last meeting didn’t go so well, and well, you know about everything before that.”

  She doesn’t offer any type of response. Not in the form of a head nod, shake, blink, or even the raise of a finger. This may all fall on deaf ears, and maybe that doesn’t make it relevant. I may say all of this and it won’t mean a thing because if she can’t hear a thing I say, maybe it’s like it didn’t even happen. But, it doesn’t matter. I have to say it. For me. For the little girl in me.

  “I’ll be forty in a couple of months. Can you believe it? I made it, Mom. After everything, I made it.” I picture myself on the living room floor, keeping warm with a waffle blanket and space heater. I’m curled up into a ball, calling out for her, crying, and she isn’t there. I wonder if it’s like this for all ten-year-olds. I wouldn’t want this for my kids. And in that moment, I vowed I would never have any.

  “I’ll be forty years old and be childless. Much how you ar
e today.” Even though I’m still her daughter, I certainly don’t see myself that way. “I don’t understand why you chose the drugs over me. How did they get a hold of you? What was so great about them? What could they offer you as a high that I couldn’t as your daughter? I watched my entire childhood pass me by. My friends were going to dances and Girl Scout meetings and doing things with their moms, and I was left in the care of whatever guy you were hooking up with that month, while you went off and did your drugs. How did you really expect me to react to all this? Did you think once I became an adult I would know how to automatically take care of myself and then I would be grateful to you as though all of these instances were chances for me to learn to be out on my own?”

  I suck in air and hiccup as I push back the tears. I can’t lose it. I must be strong. Resilient. The Cassie Noble I’ve grown to be. “No. It doesn’t work that way. Instead I was left to find myself a job and make money so I could go to college and struggle to get where I am today. I didn’t have anyone to help me through it all. Sure, there was Aunt Dorothy, and Sasha, but they had their own thing going on. Sasha’s dad was away on business trips, and they were trying to hold it together. Did you expect Aunt Dorothy to raise me, too? Obviously not. I don’t think they even knew what was going on half of the time.” My mom had an Oscar winning performance keeping her lifestyle under wraps for so long and feared me into thinking I’d end up in foster care if I told anyone. I managed to keep it a secret most of my life. I should get an Oscar, too.

  She’s motionless, except for the machine. The hum of the heater buzzes in my ears, a reminder of that space heater. I bolt upright when someone marches into the room, a teenager. She stops in her tracks when she sees me. She has dark hair outlining her face and black eyeliner I think she used a marker to put on.