By evading questions or giving barely perceptible, one-word answers, Emilie communicated that she was ready to change the subject. So the three labored to talk about the everyday events of their lives. What was safe. What mattered not at all.
Most uncharacteristically, they soon ran out of things to say. Everything else seems so trivial in comparison, thought Maureen—and so they picked at their food, tearing small bites of bread, sipping a little soup. The food grew cold in their lack of hunger and interest, the soup turning bland, the bread growing stale. And then a sense of unspoken agreement guided their friendship as they nearly simultaneously pushed plates aside; it was the signal that they—all but one—needed to be on their separate ways. To the routines that made up their lives. After all the times they had sought distance and escape from the duties they faced, by eating in a quaint little café such as this one, it suddenly struck Vanessa, Sherry, and Maureen that it was the routine itself that made up the very essence of life. Ironically, it was that sameness they all unknowingly craved and clung to for one reason: security. And Emilie, they knew, had been brutally stripped of every bit.
The three of them looked at her, seeking her permission, it appeared, to be dismissed. But Emilie remained lost in her own thoughts, looking stricken as she suddenly took in the reality that never again would look the same for her.
They hugged one another in the parking lot. Emilie responded as if by rote, her senses dulled and her face blank. More than anything else, Emilie’s joyless spirit broke her friends’ hearts. Rarely did they share a time with each other when Emilie’s laugh didn’t ring out through a restaurant or park or the other places they’d gathered. In the past, the loud honking might have embarrassed them, but today they realized how precious it was. An essential thread that wove through their lives, binding them together—one of Emilie’s unique contributions to the Gang of Four. Each felt set adrift without that symbol of joy.
They continued to cling to each other, desperately wanting to do something, anything to help Emilie. They peppered her with suggestions. Can we bring in meals? Babysit the kids? Contact our pastor—or a lawyer?
But despite their insistence, Emilie said at this point there was nothing she needed or wanted them to do. Besides pray. “And don’t you see?” she pointed out, simply. “It’s cooking, laundry, and even having the kids right there, underfoot, that I need right now. Anything to help keep me busy. Busy enough that I don’t think too much. Or feel too much.”
They reassured her repeatedly of their love and prayers, their desire that Emilie call them tomorrow, emphasizing to call whenever she needed them. Each took a turn pulling her into a firm hug—all but Maureen making a point to look into Emilie’s eyes before parting—and then they sent her on her way.
Vanessa and Maureen spoke little at first as they drove back to the church, both overwhelmed with Emilie’s news, lost in the enormity of it all. Finally Maureen was so uncomfortable with the void that she spoke up, confessing.
“I’ve been so selfish, Vanessa, thinking about my own silly problems when Emilie has this. Did you suspect … did you see it coming?”
“Oh, Maureen. No, not at all, though like I told you—Ed had been bugging me lately. But I doubt that anyone saw this coming.”
“I feel bad about the way we talked about Emilie …”
Vanessa turned to Maureen, shaking her head. “Look, we’re not gonna wallow in guilt, because we didn’t know, did we?”
Maureen agreed, reluctantly. “There’s just one more thing. Yesterday, when I was on the phone with Emilie. I think she was about to tell me … to admit there was dissension or distance or discord … something she was feeling between her and Ed. And I cut her off, Vanessa. I was so caught up in my own problems that I—”
“Maureen, again: You didn’t know. I bet anything yesterday you had no idea what Emilie was going to say on the phone when that happened, did you?” When Maureen didn’t immediately respond, Vanessa pressed her, “Did you?”
“I guess not. Not really.”
“And what did you mean by ‘cut her off’?”
“Oh, the kids were arguing.”
“So you weren’t cutting off Emilie to go watch soaps and eat bon-bons?”
Maureen grinned, sheepishly.
“And I saw your face, Mo, when Emilie told us about Ed. You were just as blown away as Sherry and I.”
Maureen nodded. “Yeah. Oh my gosh, Nessa. It still … I still can’t believe it’s real.”
“You couldn’t have stopped it, Maureen, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Vanessa turned into the church parking lot, pulled into the space next to Maureen’s van. She turned to face Maureen, reached over to take her hand. “The only one who could’ve stopped this—how I wish I were a cussing woman at times like this—this you-know-what from happening to Emilie was Ed himself.”
“Ed. How could he? Talk about making no sense. After all these years … all they’ve been through together. How could he just throw it all away?”
“The kids. Doesn’t your heart just break for them? What does this say to them? About God?”
They reached out to each other, clasping in a hug of desperation. When they finally pulled apart, Vanessa stared off into the distance, wistfully asking, “All those years ago when we first met, could we ever have envisioned that—that any of our lives would’ve taken the paths that we’ve been down?”
Maureen thought of Sherry … and now Emilie. But she also heard Colleen’s strident accusation, and the pain of it was fresh again, causing her to wince. “No, I wouldn’t. Never.” Colleen. Maureen jumped as though startled from a daydream. “What time is it? If I’m late picking up Colleen—”
“What? She’ll stop speaking to you? With teens, that could be a definite plus—” Vanessa stopped, seeing the very real look of panic on Maureen’s face.
“Oh no, it’s two thirty already. I have to run.”
“Maureen? We’ll get through this. The three of us will get Emilie through this.”
Maureen nodded. But the hand she used to open her door was shaking.
When Bill walked in the door later, Maureen moved immediately into his arms, only able to say, “Oh, Bill. You just won’t believe it.”
Alarmed, he held her out from him, searching her face, asking, “What? What’s happened? Are the kids—?”
Maureen quickly put a finger to her lips, gesturing toward Aubrey. “Shh. The kids are fine.” With a nod toward the hallway, she beckoned for Bill to follow her.
They nearly ran right into Colleen standing in her bedroom’s doorway, shooting Maureen an accusatory glare. “The Estebans are getting a divorce, aren’t they,” Colleen said. A statement, not a question.
Bill looked over at Maureen, his expression obviously asking if it were true. She merely shook her head slightly.
“How did you—?” Bill questioned Colleen.
“Eddie. He told me about the other woman a month ago.” Noting Maureen’s shocked response, Colleen added, “You mean Mrs. Esteban didn’t know this was coming before today? She didn’t catch on?” Colleen rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe she was dumb enough to—”
“Colleen, that’s quite enough.” Bill’s sharp correction silenced her immediately. “Don’t you have homework to do? Then get busy on it.” Colleen obeyed, but as she turned to go back into her room she shot her mother an accusing look.
Bill pulled Maureen into their bedroom, shutting the door behind them. “Tell me this is just a rumor.”
“It’s no rumor, Bill. I saw Emilie at lunch.” Her voice sounded far away to her ears, as though it were someone else speaking. “Ed’s already hired a lawyer.”
Bill sat on the bed, staring at the floor. When he finally looked up at Maureen, he appeared stricken. “I can’t … this can’t be true.” Holding his arms
wide, Bill pulled her into his embrace, where they clung to each other. Mumbling angrily, he choked out, “I just want to … to punch him. Beat some sense into him.”
He started pulling off his tie, continuing to mutter to himself, and Maureen got up and leaned against the dresser. She wrapped her arms around her torso, as though hugging herself. She stared down at the carpet and the familiar pattern of roses and vines.
“Ed’ll eventually come to his senses, Mo. I’ve got to believe that.” He poked his head out of the closet, attempting to make eye contact. “But honestly, even if it does happen—a divorce, I mean—God will take care of Emilie and the kids. They won’t be the first couple we’ve known to divorce. And not the first in your group of friends. Sherry’s doing okay, isn’t she?”
“Sherry doesn’t have four children, Bill.”
“But they’re all believers now, aren’t they? Even the youngest?” Bill disappeared back into the closet again.
Maureen was surprised by the retort that flitted across her own mind. Like that guarantees they’ll all live happily ever after?
“Maureen?”
“I want you to tell me that we’ll be okay,” Maureen said softly, wistfully, as she traced the pattern of the carpet with her bare toes.
Bill hadn’t heard, but she could hear the sounds of his pulling on jeans. When he came out again, he asked, “Did you speak with Colleen?”
Maureen slowly shook her head. “I couldn’t bring it up in the car, with Aubrey there. And then Colleen’s been busy with homework ever since we got home.”
He shot her a look.
“I can’t talk about Colleen now. All this with Emilie and Ed has made me feel so … insecure.” Staring down at the carpet still, afraid to meet his eyes. Calmly, flatly, she stated, “I want to see a counselor.” After she spoke the words, she recognized the familiar yet odd sensation of feeling detached, as though hearing her own voice from a distance.
Bill scoffed. “Where on earth did that come from? If you’re feeling a little insecure then—”
“Actually, I didn’t say a little. I feel … shattered, Bill. I don’t understand why, but it feels like every single area of my life is falling apart into these tiny little pieces. I’m trying to grab at them and collect them up, but I can’t because they’re falling everywhere. They keep slipping through my fingers, away from my grasp.”
“Look, just because Emilie and Ed might be getting a divorce, that doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
“No?” Her voice rose in inflection. “Emilie was clueless, but Eddie knew about his dad’s affair? A month ago. Well, Colleen is certainly picking up something that—”
“Maureen. That’s enough. If you’re insinuating that I’m having an affair, then you do need to see a counselor because you’re—”
“Hallucinating and probably losing my mind. I know that. And I know you’re not having an affair, Bill.” She chuckled. “It’s me. I admit it. I’m clueless. I don’t know who Ed Esteban is, obviously. I clearly don’t know my own daughter either.”
Maureen paused, caught the motion of Bill’s clenching and unclenching jaw. He stood before the window and stared out, back perfectly straight, hands on hips.
“Most of all,” she whispered, “I don’t know who I am anymore. Maybe I never knew. But I think it’s time I found out.”
Maureen stood up and reached for the door, but Bill grabbed her arm, restraining her. “Look, we’ll talk about this later, okay?” His tone was soothing, patronizing. “No one in my family has ever seen a counselor. We’re not going to start that sort of thing now. Maureen, there’s nothing here that the two of us can’t work out together.”
She looked up into his eyes. Noted the firm set of his chin. His unblinking stare. But she said nothing.
“Okay, how about this? How about if you talk with Pastor Johnson? I bet he could tell you how to help Emilie—tell you how to organize meals or something. Whatever. And that would make you feel better, wouldn’t it?”
“You think making food is going to solve this for Emilie? And what about Colleen? You and me? What about my feelings, Bill?”
“Aren’t we being just a tad overdramatic? Good grief, I’ll talk with Colleen. We’ll work this out, for cryin’ out loud.” He pulled her into his arms again, rubbed her back. “Look, honey. We’re going through a tough time. We’ve got a—I’ll admit it—a teen with a capital A attitude. Our friends are in crisis. And it’s putting you and me on edge.” Once again he pushed her away from him so he could look into her eyes. “But we’ll get through this, okay? I promise you. We don’t need a stranger meddling in our … our lives. Okay?”
Maureen sighed. Nodded her head, acquiescing.
“Also, since I’m an elder at church and—”
“Ironically, so is Ed.”
He ignored the comment, continued, “If you were to go see a counselor, well, can’t you see how this would play out before the community? On the heels of Ed and Emilie? You know how that would look.”
“My understanding is that a professional counselor would never reveal confidences. Isn’t that a legal requirement?”
Bill sighed, shifted his gaze away before admitting, “Yes. But you know this area of town, Mo. Someone might see you going and then—”
“So now we get to the issue.”
“Maureen, that’s not fair.”
“It’s just like Colleen said. She accused me of fretting about my image, and now it’s come back to me full circle, hasn’t it? Guess I deserved this.”
“I’m just asking you to consider how this will affect all four of us. Isn’t this a rather selfish desire on your part? You’re already gone two mornings a week in the shop. You’re busy with church. When do you have time for sessions with a counselor?”
Maureen rubbed her eyes, pushed away from him. “I need to get dinner going.”
“I thought we were making a decision here?”
Her eyes bored into his for only a split second. “You’re right that I just don’t have the time, Bill.”
“So we’ll work this out—just us, together?”
“We’ll work it out.”
It was yet another evening of Colleen’s self-imposed silence, but in a strange way, Maureen welcomed it. Reading and praying with both girls took the last bit of energy she had at her disposal, and she fell asleep minutes after she’d collapsed into bed, not even hearing the annoying click of the remote.
Only to awaken at 1:17 a.m. Instantly, wide awake.
One thought after another bullied for priority in her mind. She worried about Colleen, and what they were to do. How to handle her in a way that wouldn’t push her further away from them. And where is she spiritually? Maureen’s heart wondered. Her worries then turned to Emilie. In their bed—by herself. Maureen was tempted to cuddle up to Bill’s back for the sense of security he would instantly provide, but she couldn’t lie still long, was afraid she’d only awaken him also. There was certainly no sense in both of them worrying needlessly at this hour.
When she was convinced a good amount of time had passed, she looked up at the clock. 1:35. Sighing, she knew there was no hope of drifting back to sleep.
Maureen gently lifted the covers and eased out of bed. She was slipping into her robe when Bill’s voice startled her.
“What’re you doing?” he mumbled.
“Can’t sleep. Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep, okay?” She padded out of the room, barefoot, and closed the door gently behind her. For a moment, Maureen stood at the door and listened. Not hearing any further movement from Bill, she assumed he’d drifted off again.
Typical man, she fumed to herself. No matter what worrisome events are happening, he can sleep like the dead.
Maureen paused at Aubrey’s door. It was wide open, the nightlight in the corner casting a sof
t glow against the light lavender walls. She couldn’t resist the urge to stand there a moment, watching. One arm was thrown casually up over the pillow, the dimpled fingers open, relaxed. Her other hand held Rabbit, tucking the worn toy under her chin.
Walking farther down the hallway to Colleen’s room, Maureen stopped at the closed door and put her hand on the doorknob. She hesitated, debating. Finally she turned it, hoping to find it wasn’t locked against her. The knob easily moved in her hand.
While Aubrey’s positioning had conveyed peaceful sleep, Colleen’s was the exact opposite. Feeling heartache for her daughter, Maureen took in how the covers had been completely tossed aside, the arms that were tensed, both fists clenched. Knees drawn up to her chin in fetal position. A frown drew Colleen’s mouth downward, a deep line creased between her delicate brows. Unhappiness was sleeping there with her.
Maureen pushed the door open a bit farther, and slipped into the room. Knelt by Colleen’s bed where she poured out her heart to God—silently moving her lips, but sometimes falling into whispers in her urgency. She pleaded with God for her daughter’s heart, begging him to forgive her for how she’d failed Colleen. For her hypocrisy and weaknesses and how she hadn’t been the example she desired to be.
Tears had wet her cheeks when she felt a faint touch on her arm. Opening her eyes, it took a moment of adjusting to the dim light from the moon before she saw her daughter staring back at her. Colleen bit her lip, and then blurted out, “Mom?”
“Oh, Colleen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you did, ’cause I was having a nightmare.” She wiped at her nose and then rubbed her eyes. “I can’t even remember what it was. But I know I was really afraid and then—then I heard you.” Colleen paused a moment, and noticeably shivered. “Mom, I’ve felt so awful lately.”
“You’re cold. We’d better get you back under the covers, sweetie.” Colleen allowed Maureen to tuck her in, easing her back onto her pillow and pulling up rumpled sheets and bedspread. Maureen took her time, relishing the moment of peace between them, and then she sat next to her daughter, leaning forward with a hand on either side of Colleen. “Now. You’ve felt awful, how? Are you sick?” Maureen reached toward her forehead to check for a temperature, but Colleen shook her head, dodging.
Bridge to a Distant Star Page 5
