Nice to Come Home To

by Rebecca Flowers

  For a long time, she’d thought the whole problem was about finding love. She’d thought that, once she’d found it, she’d basically be done. Set. Good to go. Funny, how until just now, she hadn’t put it all together: All love ended, somehow. One way, or another.

  It was all going to end in tears, wasn’t it?

  THE NEXT DAY, PRU DROVE THEM BACK TO THE BEACH house in Patsy’s old hatchback. Patsy had left the puppy alone in the house. She didn’t even know anyone in the neighborhood well enough to call and check on her. The arcade in Rehoboth was closed up, as were most of the tourist shops. It was the week before Thanksgiving, and the beach town felt desolate, abandoned. Low, dark clouds hung over the ocean.

  They could hear the puppy, Jenny, howling plaintively as they came up the stairs. She’d been alone for the past day and night. She came bounding outside and back in again, racing around in circles, nipping at their hands.

  Unpacked boxes were everywhere. The place reeked of neglected pet.

  “Oh God,” moaned Patsy, sinking to the couch. “I can’t face this.”

  “Patsy,” said Pru, “why don’t you just come back with me? You don’t have to deal with this right now. Just for a few days, until you’ve got your feet back under you.”

  Patsy looked at her, uncertain and relieved. “Are you sure?”

  Pru shrugged. As crazy as the night before had been, she didn’t feel ready to let it end yet. There was something comforting about the three of them being in the apartment together. She’d forgotten all about the dog . . . but, well, she’d worry about that later.

  “Of course. It’ll be nice to have you guys around.”

  Patsy found a carton and began stuffing it with clothes for her and Annali. Pru cleaned up the various messes the dog had made, and found its leash, food, and bowl. She wondered if Whoop would start pissing everywhere again when he saw the dog. Patsy locked the front door, and they headed back out of town. Jenny was in her crate on the backseat, next to Annali, who spaced out stroking her hat-lovey, until she fell asleep. Patsy, who had started crying again, leaned her head against the window and fell asleep, too. Pru drove the rest of the way home, listening to the news on the radio and the sounds of Jenny gnawing on her rawhide bone.

  THE HAIR ON WHOOP’S BACK STOOD UP WHEN THE puppy came running in. He flew to his former place under the couch, and Jenny raced after him. The dog’s nails on her parquet floors made Pru cringe. Jenny stopped suddenly, and made a puddle on the floor. Here we go again, thought Pru, reaching for the paper towels. Whoop let out a low, threatening yowl from under the couch, where Patsy had flopped, and Annali began running after the puppy.

  Patsy camped out in the living room, where she took to falling asleep in front of the television Pru had finally bought, following the last weekend she’d had Annali. Annali and Pru took the bed. The first few nights, she woke up to the sound of Patsy’s crying in the living room; after a few awkward, early attempts to soothe her, Pru began rolling over and pulling a pillow over her head to block the sound.

  There wasn’t much going on that gave shape to their lives. Pru felt as if they were all waiting for something to happen. In the morning, Annali played with her toys or carried her hat around, looking bored. Patsy watched TV, and Pru continued to look for work. The money she’d recently earned hadn’t gone far, even though she’d been careful with it, and she was getting dangerously near the end of her severance. After that, she’d have only her father’s inheritance, which she figured she’d better save for the nursing home, without a husband or kids to foot that bill.

  One day, after much nagging from Pru to get up off the couch and at least go outside, Patsy finally went out while Annali took a nap. She came back looking even worse than when she’d left. Her eyes were red, her hair in a tangle, and she seemed uncharacteristically slow and heavy. It was as though she was inhabiting a different body altogether. Pru imagined her sitting in the park, weeping, dead leaves and trash swirling around her feet.

  For days Patsy didn’t shower, phone anyone, or do anything besides sit in front of the TV and take her afternoon walks. Sometimes Pru tried to talk to her, but Patsy gave only the briefest of replies to her questions. Compared with what Patsy was going through, Pru’s grieving for Rudy seemed like some harmless sandbox dust-up. Patsy wasn’t just missing the life she thought she’d have, like Pru had done—the phantom children, the beautiful house in Cleveland Park—she was missing all that plus a person. Pru missed Rudy in the way you miss the electricity when it goes out. You think, Okay, I can’t check my e-mail, I’ll watch TV instead—damn it! It was annoying, persistent, and pretty much everywhere you turned, for a while, but then the lights came back on. Patsy missed Jacob the way you’d miss your hands, if they fell off.

  Pru hated to say it, but if Patsy didn’t have Annali to think about, would she have held out for Jacob a little longer? Would faithful persistence have made any difference? Her slide downhill was, in the long term, very fast, but for those living with her, a day seemed like a whole lifetime. One minute, she’d be walking around the apartment like a stoned zombie; the next, she couldn’t stop crying. Increasingly, Pru found herself in charge of Annali.

  “Are you sick, Mommy?” Annali would say, hovering nearby. “Does your tummy hurt?” Or, “Are you mad, Mommy?” Patsy tried to play with her, but after a few minutes she would turn away, back to watching Oprah, or staring out the bay window at the view over the rooftops. She couldn’t get lost in her thoughts, or wherever it was she was trying to go, with Annali pulling at her legs. Pru did what she could to distract Annali, whose eyes never left Patsy for more than a few minutes, before she’d go over and touch her and the questions began again: Does your tummy hurt? Are you mad? The harder Annali tried to bring her mommy back, the farther away Patsy wanted to go.

  Pru wondered how long she could live this way without losing her mind completely. She wanted to hide under the couch with Whoop, waiting for the strangers to go back to wherever it was they’d come from.

  ON THE FIFTH MORNING AFTER THEY CAME TO STAY, PRU took Annali to the café for breakfast. She had to get away from Patsy for an hour or two, or she’d go mad. She knew enough this time to pack some crayons and a few toys, and to give her niece several stern warnings as well as the promise of chocolate chip pancakes, if she behaved herself. This was what she’d been reduced to, she thought, walking down the street with Annali: out-and-out bribery.

  It was a busy morning at the café. John waved from behind the counter. They slid into a booth by the window. When Ludmilla came over to take their order, Annali carefully and politely asked for pancakes and milk. Pru watched John nervously out of the corner of her eye while they waited. She hadn’t talked to him since the drive home from Rehoboth and she wondered what kind of footing they were on. But he stayed behind the counter, talking to the other regulars and serving to-go orders. She couldn’t even count on Annali to lure him over with one of her spectacular tantrums. Her niece sat quietly coloring in her coloring book, for a change.

  “Hey,” she said, elbowing Annali in the ribs gently. “Don’t you want to have a fit?”

  “No, thank you,” Annali said, pleasantly, not even looking up from her crayons.

  They finished their breakfast, Pru paid the bill, and they gathered their things to leave. Then Annali said she wanted to spin on one of the stools at the counter, and Pru consented. It would waste time, she reflected, and put them in proximity of John.

  He came over to stand near them while Annali clambered up on the stool. “Who’s this?” John said, pointing to Dipsy.

  “PBSKids,” Annali muttered, clutching the Teletubby closer to her. She climbed up on the stool. “Dot org,” she added. Pru gave the stool a good push and Annali shrieked with laughter.

  “How’s everything going?” John said.

  “Crazy, actually.” While Annali spun herself around on the stool, Pru explained in a low voice what had happened.

  “Married, huh?” John said, when Annali
left the stool to check out a basket of toys on the floor. “What the hell was he thinking?”

  “I don’t know,” Pru said. “I’m worried about Patsy. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s always been moody, but this is pretty extreme.”

  “You’ve got everyone staying at your place?” John said.

  Pru nodded, grimacing. “It’s very cozy.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said. “It’s like Aunt Pru’s home for lost souls, over there. Good for you, though. You’re doing a fine thing. She’s lucky to have you.”

  LATER THAT DAY, PRU DECIDED TO GO SWIMMING. HER absence that morning hadn’t seemed to affect Patsy one way or another. John was right; she’d been taking care of everybody for days, and she needed a break.

  “Will you be okay?” she said to Patsy, sitting, as ever, in the bay window.

  Patsy nodded, not moving her eyes from the scene below the window. “Of course,” she said, dully.

  “Okay,” said Pru. “I’ll be home before dinner. Is there anything special you want? Should I pick something up?”

  “Anything,” said Patsy, without any interest.

  The front desk at the Hilton on P Street had been giving her funny looks, so she decided to try the R Street Radisson. She did hard laps that left her limbs burning and sore, and afterward she floated gently on her back, letting the water turn her this way and that. The Radisson’s pool was very pleasant, and the staff had smiled at her kindly. She left feeling more optimistic. That was what everyone needed, she decided—a little sunlight, some firm, cheerful direction. Enough moping.

  She trudged slowly up Sixteenth, bleary-eyed and spent from the water. She thought of what awaited her at home. The cat would need attention. The dog would need a walk. Annali would need dinner and a bath. Patsy would need . . . something she didn’t have. Turning onto Columbia, she tried to work up the kind of brisk energy she’d need to get everyone settled in for the night.

  She walked into a quiet apartment. Whoop sat in the middle of the room, washing himself. The TV was silent for the first time in forever. She was slightly alarmed at first, but then she relaxed. No doubt her absence had forced Patsy finally to take action. Perhaps she’d actually gotten Annali out to the swings, or to the park across the street.

  She sighed, looking around. Without the distraction of human bodies, the place looked like it had been trashed in a police raid. A pile of Patsy’s dirty clothes occupied one corner of the room, Annali’s toys another. The coffee table was strewn with toiletries, magazines, and dirty plates. There were cat toys scattered all over the floor, and the smell of curdled milk persisted in the air, from when the puppy knocked over Annali’s cereal bowl yesterday morning. Jenny was leaving Whoop in peace, for the moment, sleeping on the bed in the other room. But soon, she knew, they would be chasing each other through the rooms, tearing up the hardwood floor and upsetting pieces of furniture.

  She’d started to pick up Annali’s Legos, which were scattered all over the floor, when she heard the sound of water dripping into the bathtub. It was an ominous, forlorn sound, and made Pru shudder.

  She pushed open the bathroom door, to see Annali, naked, about to back into a glowing red space heater. It was the old-fashioned kind with exposed heating coils. “Whoa!” Pru said, and grabbed Annali before she burned herself, hoisting her onto a hip.

  Patsy was sitting in the bathtub. She was motionless, her arms wrapped around her body, and she was staring at some spot on the wall above the taps. Pru was shocked to see how thin she’d gotten. Her hair hung in damp ropes around delicate collarbones. Her skin looked almost blue, under the water. Her lips were purple.

  “Pats?” Pru said. Patsy grunted in response, but didn’t take her eyes from the spot on the bathroom tiles where she was staring. Pru put a hand in the bath water. “Patsy, that water is freezing!” Patsy was starting to shiver. She seemed to be in some kind of waking coma. Pru eased Annali off her hip.

  “Okay, silly,” she said, forcing a light tone. “Let’s get out now.” She slipped her hands under Patsy’s armpits and helped her sister stand. Patsy didn’t resist.

  Patsy’s teeth were chattering now, and she shivered even more as soon as she was out of the water. Pru grabbed a towel from the bar and wrapped it around her. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Stay here, okay?” Patsy didn’t say anything but looked down at her toes, curled on the bathmat.

  Pru quickly got Annali dressed and found a thick, wool blanket in her closet. In the bathroom, Patsy was shaking, staring at the bathmat. She was completely naked. The towel had fallen to the floor, and she hadn’t even bothered to pick it up. Pru got the blanket around her and began rubbing her arms.

  “How long were you in there?” Pru said. She was still trying to act like nothing was wrong. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t get pneumonia. You better not have pneumonia, missy. Mom’ll kill me!” She led her to the couch in the living room. The blankets Patsy had been using at night were on the floor. Pru picked them all up and piled them as best she could around her sister. Annali, who had been trailing after them, looking worried, had started to cry. Pru brought her over to the table, and let her eat out of a carton of ice cream with a spoon.

  “I’m sorry,” Patsy finally said, her teeth clattering. “I’m sorry.” Pru was so relieved that she was talking that she almost cried. Now that she was warmer, Patsy seemed basically fine. Except, of course, that she was clearly having a nervous breakdown. But she hadn’t taken pills, or cut herself, or done any of the other things Pru had been fearing. There was no sign she’d done anything intentionally self-harming. The color was coming back into her lips.

  “I can’t leave you alone for a minute,” Pru said, smoothing back her wet hair. She had to work to keep her tone neutral so that Annali, who had come wandering over, wouldn’t know that her mother was scaring the crap out of her aunt. “Such a drama queen, you are.” She rubbed Patsy’s arms, still shaking under the blanket. They felt like sticks. The skin around the diamond in her nose was greenish, and peeling.

  Annali had her hat-lovey in one hand and a pickle she’d found somewhere in the other. She came climbing up between them. “What’s wrong with Mommy?” she said.

  “Mommy is a little sad, honey. That’s all.”

  “Why is Mommy sad?”

  “Sometimes people just get sad.”

  Annali put her hands on either side of Patsy’s face, stroking it. “There, there, Mommy,” she said. “Shhhhh.” Pru smelled pickle juice and baby shampoo. It was all she could do not to put her head down and weep.

  Patsy turned her head to kiss the inside of Annali’s hand, then closed her eyes. “You are my sweet peach,” she said.

  “Let’s give her some Tylenol,” Annali said.

  “That’s a good idea,” Pru said.

  “And a beer!” shouted Annali, jumping up. “Mommies drink beer when they feel bad.”

  “Oh, that’s just great,” muttered Patsy, from under her blanket. “She’s really learning some life skills this week, isn’t she?”

  AFTER ANNALI WAS IN BED AND PATSY WAS IN FRONT OF the television, dressed and no longer shivering but not having eaten, Pru sat down at her computer to write an e-mail to her mother.

  She didn’t know where to begin. Nadine knew almost nothing of what had been going on. Pru hadn’t been able to talk to her privately, with Patsy and Annali always around. After a while, she decided to say only that Patsy and Jacob had broken up, they were now at Pru’s, and Patsy seemed “a little depressed.” The four lines took Pru twenty minutes to compose. She certainly didn’t mention wives, subzero baths, or walking comas.

  Just before she was about to sign off and go to bed, a reply came from her mother. Nadine didn’t use e-mail the regular way, like chatting back and forth. She still thought of it as a sort of telegram service, where you paid by the word. Her e-mail said: “Help on the way. Coming day after tomorrow. Arrive National, 6 pm.” You could practically hear the “Stop” after each sentence.
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  It was the first time all week Pru could remember smiling.

  TWO DAYS LATER, NADINE CAME OFF THE AIRPLANE AT National holding a Styrofoam carry-on cooler. She wore stretch slacks and a flowered shirt, lemons and oranges on a blue background, and her tennis shoes.

  Following behind her, holding two suitcases and grinning from ear to ear, was Annali’s father, Jimmy Roy.

  Fourteen

  Jimmy Roy still looked like what he was, a former local-circuit rock star, dressed in black jeans and boots and a Sex Pistols T-shirt. He could also pass for a pirate. The guitar slung across his back could have been a scabbard. His eyes were satiny and almost navy, just like Annali’s, and he had the same expressive, almost feminine mouth. He wore several thick, silver rings and bracelets on both wrists. He and Nadine, in her two-piece Stein Mart stretch rayon outfit, made a hopelessly incongruous pair, but Pru couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather see at the moment.

  “Hey,” Jimmy Roy said, coming over to kiss Pru on both cheeks.

  “Now, this makes me happy,” Pru said. “Annali will go nuts.”

  “Ah,” said Jimmy Roy, “but how about her mother?”

  Pru had no idea how to answer, so she pointed to the cooler her mother held. “What’s in that thing?”

  “Turkey,” Nadine said, as if Pru was a little slow. “We always have turkey at Thanksgiving.”

  Pru wanted to point out that the grocery stores in D.C. carried turkeys, too. But she was too glad for the reinforcements, and instead lifted the cooler out of her mother’s arms and hugged her hard.

  ANNALI CAME SKIDDERING OUT OF THE BEDROOM, SHOUTING “Grandma!” She’d been furious that she’d been made to stay behind and take a nap, and had clearly been lying in bed all afternoon, fully awake and alert.

  As soon as Nadine put down her bag and opened her arms, Annali shrieked and ran into them. “Oh, my pumpkin butter, how I’ve missed you!”