Shannon's Hope

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Aunt Ruby opened the door and gave us both a big hug, cooing over Keisha. I searched Ruby’s face for judgment or censure—she knew Keisha’s history—but didn’t see anything except welcome, which helped me relax a great deal. Keisha seemed really touched by the fuss Aunt Ruby made over her.

  Athena was talking to Tori at one end of the room, both of them thin and lovely, leaning toward one another and laughing about something. They were about the same age and, if I remembered right, both worked in journalism or something like that. They didn’t look up at me, but that was okay; it saved me having to come up with a greeting. Olivia and Ilana, the Jewish woman, stopped their conversation to say hi to us. Keisha and I sat across from them, and Olivia introduced herself and Ilana to Keisha, who then introduced herself—all of them sparing me the task, which I appreciated since I was still so nervous.

  It wasn’t until everyone had said hello to each other that I noticed the sling Ilana wore on her left arm. I didn’t want to put her on the spot by asking what had happened, but Keisha had no such hesitation.

  “What happened to your arm?”

  Ilana looked at the sling then shook her head, making a face. “I got hurt at work. Broken elbow.”

  “Ow,” Keisha said, wrinkling her nose. “Does it hurt bad?”

  “Not so long as I keep up on the pain pills,” Ilana said. “They’re talking about surgery, possibly. I go in again this week to get it checked out.”

  I wanted to ask what medication she was taking and when the accident had occurred. Was she sleeping at night? Did she know that stabilizing her wrist in addition to keeping it in the sling could limit the rotary movement which, in turn, would take some of the pressure off the tendons in the elbow? But I wasn’t supposed to be a pharmacist with a passion for physiology right now; I was just a member of the group who’d finally read one of the novels all the way through.

  “That totally sucks,” Keisha said with a frown. Both Olivia and Ilana smiled, and I felt myself relax a little more. They liked Keisha, and she was comfortable here. That went a long way toward my comfort as well.

  Olivia asked Keisha about where she worked and if she was going to school.

  “I’m looking for a job right now, but I’m going to enroll in cosmetology school. I think I’d really like that.”

  Ruby returned with another member of the group—Paige, the young, single, Mormon mom. Didn’t she have two kids? I’d never really talked to her much, but I remembered how she’d defended her church at the first meeting. I’d admired her confidence back then, even though I still thought Mormons were weird. I’d had a Mormon tech a few years ago who refused to work on Sunday or on Monday nights and who kept handing out postcards about her church to customers. I asked her to stop advertising, and she quit her job, just like that. The experience hadn’t left the best impression on me, but Paige seemed nice, and Aunt Ruby thought the world of her.

  “I guess we’re all here,” Aunt Ruby said, clapping her hands together and making her dangly silver earrings shake.

  “Is Daisy still on bed rest?” Athena asked.

  I remembered Daisy too; she was the pretty one with blonde hair and a big smile.

  “She is,” Aunt Ruby said, frowning slightly. “I offered to have us go to her place like we did last month, but she said she’d moved and her new place was too small.” She looked at Paige. “I didn’t want to pry by asking too many questions.”

  Paige picked up the cue Aunt Ruby was sending and tucked her hair behind her ear before speaking. “She got her own place a couple weeks ago, close to where her ex-husband and daughter live. She’s still on partial bed rest, but the baby’s doing well. She’s able to work from home half-time right now.”

  “Did her life turn a 180 or what?” Tori said. I realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she was naturally gorgeous, with a casual attitude that made her even more striking. Her tightly curled hair was pulled into a sloppy bun that looked almost artistic. “But she’s okay?”

  “Yeah,” Paige said with a smile that confirmed her words. “I think she’s doing really well. She said to thank everyone for the phone calls and cards. She says she’s felt every prayer.”

  Everyone commented that they were glad. I hadn’t really gotten to know Daisy—well, I hadn’t gotten to know any of the women, really—but Aunt Ruby had told me about her situation. Daisy had had a rough patch, but it sounded like it was all working out.

  “Well,” Aunt Ruby said, “Daisy chose the book, but since she isn’t here, I guess I’ll lead the discussion. What did everyone think?”

  I mostly listened to what everyone said, nodding when I agreed with their assessment of the lingering prejudice and the lack of opportunity for black women during the time frame, and how they related to the characters. The part about the miscarriage had been hard for me to read. It had taken me back to the feelings of loss I’d had—still had—over my first pregnancy. But I wasn’t about to share that experience, and none of the other women hit on that portion; instead, they had insights on all kinds of other details. It amazed me that these women could pull out such deep and philosophical things from the story. They did know The Help was fiction, right?

  Tori’s comments interested me the most, since she was the only black woman present. Her perspective was even more unique because she wasn’t of African descent. Her family was from Barbados, where racial issues were different than they were in the United States. “For me personally,” she said, “I haven’t experienced racial prejudice in the US. Maybe because I’m in the entertainment industry, it just hasn’t been an issue for me. I find it much harder to be a woman than to be black.”

  “You’ve experienced prejudice for being a woman?” Aunt Ruby asked.

  “Oh yes,” Tori said, raising her perfectly sculpted eyebrows dramatically. “There’s still a lot of opportunity for me within my industry, but most of the top spots are filled with men, and most of the decisions on who fills the open positions are made by men. And a lot of women fall victim to unprofessional ways of furthering their career, if you know what I mean.”

  We all nodded; we knew exactly what she meant. I cast a look at Keisha to see if she was listening—she was. It made me a little uncomfortable even though she was twenty-one years old. She seemed so much younger than she really was, and I still wanted to protect her from the harsh realities of the world.

  Athena shared some of her experience about being Greek. She’d had some painful experiences due to her ethnicity, especially when she was younger. Ilana and Paige had experienced religious prejudice. I was starting to feel left out for not having been discriminated against. Being a woman in a male-dominated profession had helped me in many ways—applying for scholarships and being in demand after school, for example. And my personal experience as a mother was priceless when others moms were nervous about the side effects of medications for their kids. Granted, I worked my tail off to stay at the head of my class and to do the best job I could every day, but I didn’t feel that my race or my gender had ever stood in my way, and I didn’t have a particular religious affiliation to set me apart either.

  “Shannon, what did you think?” Aunt Ruby said, interrupting what had—thus far—been a nice meeting. It startled me to be singled out.

  “Uh, I liked it.” Leave it to me to come up with the cleverest response. I cleared my throat and tried again. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve read a novel; I don’t like much fiction.” I immediately felt my face flush, since I knew these women did like fiction. “I really liked this one though.”

  I looked at the book I held in my lap. Across from me, Olivia had marked several pages with green Post-it Notes. Athena had already quoted something from the novel. All I’d done was read the book.

  I barely noticed the silence that followed my lack of participation, but Paige hurried to fill it with more insight than I could muster. The discussion continued around me. I wondered if Keisha remembered that I’d been pregnant before Landon. Did she reme
mber how neurotic I’d been during and after my pregnancy with him? I hadn’t let her hold her brother for months after he was born, terrified she’d drop him or get him sick. Had that scarred her somehow, adding to the difficulties of her parents’ divorce and her mother’s chaotic lifestyle?

  The discussion seemed to go on forever, and I distracted myself from my own anxiety by counting all the little white artificial flowers in the centerpiece on Aunt Ruby’s glass coffee table—twenty-seven—the pleats in the curtain swag covering Aunt Ruby’s big picture window—nine—and the number of tiles used in her fireplace hearth—sixteen. Numbers were unchanging and solid, much more so than ethereal concepts and personal insights.

  Eventually the conversation died down, and Aunt Ruby brought out a chocolate pie that made everyone laugh. She assured us she had something else—red velvet cake bread pudding. Yum! I joined her in the kitchen and encouraged her to go back to the group, which she did. I knew she enjoyed entertaining, while busy hands always made me feel more at ease. Like at work, there was now a counter between me and the other women here. Once all the plates were filled, I took them out to the women—glad to see that Keisha was talking to Paige—then slunk back to the kitchen, where I ate my dessert alone.

  While the desserts we had at the end of the meetings were always great, and I knew Aunt Ruby liked me to come, I didn’t think this book group thing was going to work out. I just wasn’t a fiction reader—let alone a fiction discusser—and even though I had a connection to this story, I wasn’t comfortable sharing it, which made me question why I was even here if I wasn’t going to participate where I could. Would Aunt Ruby understand if I called her tomorrow and explained why I needed to quit? I hated the idea of disappointing her, but I hated feeling like a fish out of water even more. With the number of hours I was working and the time I wanted to spend with my family, I just didn’t feel like I had room for this. Landon was playing in Tustin tonight; John was there, of course, as assistant coach, but I hated missing it. Especially for something I didn’t enjoy very much. Ruby seemed to be getting close enough to these women that I wouldn’t be missed.

  Maybe I could offer another interaction option to Aunt Ruby to ease her disappointment—did she like to garden? I wouldn’t mind learning how to do that. My mom had had quite an herb garden when I was younger, and gardening was a hobby with a tangible result.

  Eventually I had to return to the group, and I sat down next to Keisha in time to hear them discussing the date of next month’s meeting—March Fifth. Once that was confirmed, it was down to choosing the book.

  “Why don’t you choose one, Shannon?” Aunt Ruby said.

  “Oh, that’s okay,” I said with a polite smile. “I’m not nearly as well-read as you guys are.”

  “Oh, baloney,” Aunt Ruby said with a wave of her hand. Her recent manicure—peach—caught the light just so and looked so elegant on her long fingers. I had to keep my nails short and unpolished because of my work.

  Aunt Ruby continued. “You have a PhD; surely you’re as well-read as anyone here. Just choose a book for us to read, something you’d like to share with us.”

  I didn’t actually have a PhD. While I was a pharmacy doctor, the PharmD. wasn’t equivalent to a traditional doctorate. It wasn’t a point worth arguing though. As for a book for next month, I considered saying something glib like The Amazing Mitochondria or something, but that would be rude.

  “Really,” I said, looking around the group and hoping one of them would rescue me, “I don’t know. I don’t read much fiction.”

  “It doesn’t have to be fiction,” Athena said. “Do you read nonfiction?”

  “Mostly only for work,” I said, searching my mind for something. My copy of The Help was on the coffee table where I’d put it, and seeing it reminded me of something—a connection I’d made between that book and a book one of the techs had left in the break room last summer. I hadn’t read the whole thing, but I had read portions of it and had meant to get a copy of my own so that I could finish it. “Well, there is one that might be interesting,” I heard myself say. Wait? Wasn’t I planning to stop coming?

  “Oh, good,” Aunt Ruby said, bringing her hands together in her lap—always such a lady. “What is it?”

  “Well, The Help kind of reminded me of it since it also involves a black woman in the 1950s. It’s called The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.” I scanned the room, looking for someone to recognize it.

  To my relief, Paige smiled. “I read a review about it,” she said, nodding. “And I tried to check it out at the library once, but it had a few holds on it—that was almost a year ago though. I heard it was really well done.”

  Her confirmation gave me more confidence, even excited me a little bit. I did have something to say—imagine that! “It was really well done,” I said, nodding quickly. “It’s about a woman who had cervical cancer. The doctors biopsied the tumor and discovered that her cells reproduced continually, which opened the floodgates of medical research. Her cells are why we have a vaccine for polio, and why we’ve made such advances in cancer research. Fascinating history.”

  Everyone seemed surprised to have heard so many words come out of me all at once, myself included. But that book had been a story that was interesting to me. It was about science and ethics and factual representations of the behind-the-scenes things that affected people’s lives without them even knowing it. It was truth, and truth was superior to stories . . . at least in my opinion.

  “You’re such a nerd, Shannon,” Keisha said with a laugh.

  I felt my face heat up, instantly embarrassed as Keisha’s comment deflated my growing confidence. Why would Keisha do that to me? I was a nerd—an intellectual woman without the social graces of everyone else here.

  “We love nerds,” Tori quickly said. I tried to smile, but I could feel myself sinking deeper into the couch. Gosh, why did I even come?

  “I think it sounds great,” Athena said. I didn’t look up at her because I was busy wiping at an imaginary spot on my pants.

  “What was the title again? I want to order it from Amazon before I forget,” she continued.

  I was still trying to pull myself together, but luckily Paige provided the information. “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. The author had a weird name though. I can’t remember what it was.”

  “Skloot,” I said automatically, feeling saved by having the answer. “Rebecca Skloot—S-K-L-O-O-T.” My mind remembered things like that without me even trying. It was one reason why pharmacology was a good fit; I was a master at remembering details and facts. But don’t ask me to compliment someone’s new shoes; I wouldn’t notice in a million years.

  “I’d have never remembered that,” Paige said. She was probably smiling at me again. And I probably looked like a five-year-old folded up on the couch, so I forced myself to look up and smile back at everyone. As soon as I felt it was okay to do so, I got up and collected the plates, eager to disappear into the kitchen again. I didn’t come back out until Aunt Ruby’s kitchen was spotless and I heard her ushering people toward the door.

  Chapter 5

  “You ready?” I asked Keisha when I finally returned to the living room. She was slumped into the couch, texting on the phone John had picked up for her last week. Who was she texting?

  Paige had already left while Ilana, Athena, and Olivia still talked at the far end of the living room.

  “Sure,” Keisha said. She typed another few words before getting off the couch.

  “Nice meeting you guys,” she said brightly, waving to the other women, who all echoed the same sentiment.

  “I hope you’ll come next month,” Olivia said.

  “Me too,” Keisha said. “This was really fun.”

  Was it? I wondered. Was it really fun?

  Once in the car, Keisha chatted about how nice Aunt Ruby’s house was and how the other women were dressed. I smiled and nodded politely. Eventually she went back to her texting, and a somewhat comfortable silence desce
nded. The thought of leading the discussion next month made my stomach tighten even though it was weeks away. Gardening was sounding better by the minute.

  Twenty minutes after leaving Aunt Ruby’s house in Newport, I pulled into the garage and shifted into park. John’s truck was there, and I wondered how Landon had done at his basketball game. He’d improved so much on his shooting these last few months, and I hoped he’d impressed the coach enough that he would get more playing time than he had at the start of the season.

  “Hey, could I borrow the car?” Keisha asked as I turned off the ignition. “My friend Jessica invited me to go to coffee, but she lives in Aliso Viejo.”

  “Who’s Jessica?”

  “Just a girl I met in rehab. She’s really cool.”

  “Uh, I don’t know,” I said evasively.

  “She’s clean, Shannon,” Keisha said, almost with an exasperated tone. “She’s going to school to become a dental hygienist or something. So can I take the car?”

  In the almost two weeks Keisha had been with us, she hadn’t borrowed the car except for a few job interviews. And never at night, and never to hang out with friends. She’d never talked about this Jessica person before. But she was twenty-one.

  “It’s almost nine,” I said, hedging. “Isn’t it a little late for coffee?”

  “It’s never too late for coffee,” Keisha said, smiling. She placed her clasped hands under her chin. “Plee-eease, Shannon. I just need to get out, ya know? Hang out with a friend. I can pay you back for the gas after I get a job.”

  “It’s not about the gas,” I said, smarting a little that I wasn’t considered a “friend.” “It’s just . . . ”

  “Please?” she said again, her big brown eyes turning all puppy-dog on me even as she dropped her hands. “I just want to hang out for a little while. I swear, Jessica’s a good friend.”