Once Upon a Project

by Bettye Griffin

  He glared at her. “Couldn’t even wait until I was cold.”

  That did it. She jumped up from the bed as if it had just burst into flames. “I don’t deserve to be treated this way. Don’t say another word to me unless it’s an apology.” She left the room, slamming the door behind her.

  The moment the door was closed she choked on the sob that rose from her throat. Damn Frankie and Rebecca for upsetting their father this way. What a couple of instigators they were.

  Well, she wouldn’t cry. That would mean they’d won, and she wasn’t about to give up. If her stepchildren wanted to play dirty, she’d show them how tough she could be.

  She stood still, listening for sounds of activity from the bedroom. Franklin might be calling out to her right now, ready to say that he was sorry and that of course he believed her.

  Seconds ticked by. With a heavy heart she realized he had nothing to say to her. She turned around and placed her hand on the doorknob, but something stopped her from turning it. Franklin’s health was failing, but he wasn’t an invalid. He spent a good part of the day seated in a recliner. She’d look in on him in a half hour. If he wanted something that badly before then, let him get it himself. In the meantime, a little cool-off time wouldn’t be a bad idea . . . for both of them.

  Elyse glanced at her watch as she went to the kitchen. She browsed in the refrigerator before deciding she really didn’t want anything to eat.

  As far as something to drink, that was another matter entirely. She reached for a bottle of Chardonnay and after carefully removing the cork, poured herself a glass. Then she cut off a block of cream cheese and stirred some of the spicy roasted red pepper dip she always kept on hand into it. Using one hand to cup her glass and the other to hold the bowl of dip, while grasping a bag of pretzel sticks with her fingers, she plodded into the family room and placed it all on the table. Then she dug out the novel she was reading from her tote bag, kicked off her shoes, and settled down sideways on the cushy tan sofa, her sock-clad feet resting on the opposite end. Smooth jazz, courtesy of the cable radio station, would complete the scenario, and she didn’t even have to get up to turn it on. All it took was a flick of the remote. If she wasn’t so lazy she’d get a fire going in the fireplace. Franklin always used to do that....

  Elyse bit her lip. She wasn’t supposed to think about Franklin, at least not for the next half hour. No matter how she tried to convince herself, she would never leave him to fend for himself when he was ill. She kept hoping he’d come out and tell her he’d been wrong. But by now the pain medication Winnie had given him had probably put him to sleep.

  She picked up her book and quickly became engrossed in it. She could relate to the character who’d lost her husband suddenly in a freak accident, but this poor woman found herself in a financial pinch. Thank God that wouldn’t be her after Franklin was gone....

  Elyse looked up. What was she thinking? Franklin was dying, yes. Dr. LeBlond told them to plan only for short-term survival, twelve to eighteen months at the most, and very possibly much less than that. Just this afternoon she’d cried when she told Kevin about it. Now, after one argument with Franklin, she could accept his impending death as matter-of-factly as the knowledge that they were almost out of green tea.

  Franklin had never once complained about his fate. Instead he accepted it readily, feeling blessed because he had been chosen for death while she and all four of his children remained healthy. But he wasn’t a saint. What she’d just seen a few minutes ago was his striking back against his misfortune, aided by the equally bitter Frankie. They all felt cheated by Franklin’s disease and—Frankie, Rebecca, and Franklin himself—were taking it out on her. And that sucked.

  Elyse had been reading for barely twenty minutes when she heard the chime of the door alarm. Someone with a key had entered the house.

  She put the book down eagerly. Todd and Brontë had said they would drive up from Champaign early Saturday morning, but maybe they’d decided to surprise her and Franklin by coming up tonight. She rushed toward the front door. “Todd? Brontë? Is that you?”

  A female figure stood with her back turned as she put the latch on the door. Elyse froze when she turned around.

  “What are you doing here, Rebecca?” she demanded.

  “I came to see Dad. He didn’t tell you?”

  “No.” The word came out as a whisper. Franklin had known all along that his daughter was coming. No wonder he didn’t come out of their bedroom and apologize.

  Rebecca shrugged. “It sounds like you two have a failure to communicate. But that’s not my problem.” She began walking toward the master bedroom.

  “No, it’s just your responsibility.”

  Rebecca paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean that this morning when I left the house, everything was fine with Franklin and me. But you and your brother decided to fill his head with a lot of nonsense about me having an affair, and now we’re not talking.”

  “It wasn’t nonsense, Elyse. I know what I saw, and so do you. It’s Dad I’m thinking of.”

  “Horseshit. I told you why Kevin was sitting on my side of the booth. He was just about to move back when you pounced on us. I’ve got a feeling that part was left out of your account of what you saw.” She grunted. “I don’t understand why you would even want to rush to tell your father when you know it would only upset him.”

  “I talked it over with Frankie, and we both feel that Pop deserves to know, Elyse.”

  A possible reason for Rebecca and Frankie’s behavior occurred to Elyse, and she looked at her stepdaughter through narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to get him to cut me out of his will?” If this was their goal, she had no doubt that their mother, Carolyn, was behind it. Carolyn had made a few catty remarks about how well off Elyse would be when she visited Franklin earlier in the year, which Elyse had simply dismissed as jealousy at the time. Now she considered that Carolyn had urged her children to manipulate Franklin.

  “That’s preposterous.”

  Rebecca sounded just like Johnnie Cochran, Elyse thought. That had been a favorite phrase of the famed criminal defense attorney. Annoyed, she turned away.

  Elyse had resumed reading when Rebecca came storming into the family room. “I’m glad I came over. My daddy is in his room, hungry and thirsty, and here you are, reading a book!

  Startled, she quickly sat up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Dad’s hungry. You didn’t even go to see if he wanted anything. He told me you just stormed out and told him to fend for himself.”

  “He said what?”

  Rebecca glared at her. “You heard me.”

  “Now, listen here, Rebecca. I won’t have you taking that tone with me in my house. You either speak to me with a civil tone, or you can leave.”

  “This is my father’s house, and I have just as much right to be here as your children.”

  Elyse gasped. She had never differentiated between her children and her stepchildren. Frankie and Rebecca always had a key to their home, so they could come by as they wished. The rule of “Please call before you come” was followed by all four offspring, just for the sake of privacy. It always stood for Frankie and Rebecca, who had never actually lived here; and it went into effect for Todd and Brontë when they left for college.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Rebecca said coldly, “I have to take care of my father.” She turned and walked to the adjacent kitchen.

  Elyse was so angry she felt there might be smoke coming out of her ears. Her first thought was to run to her room, throw a few clothing changes into a bag, and go check into a hotel. Just as quickly as the idea formed she vetoed it. Rebecca and Frankie would say she’d abandoned Franklin. If they were looking to increase the size of their inheritances by reducing hers, that would be all the ammunition they needed.

  No, the best thing she could do was to stay right here. When she was ready to go to bed, she’d just go up and get on the left side, just lik
e she always did. The king-sized mattress was large enough so she and Franklin could stay out of each other’s way, yet she’d be there if he needed her.

  Tomorrow would be better.

  Elyse wasn’t surprised to see Rebecca still around the next morning. Well, that was fine. Todd and Brontë were probably on their way up right now. At least she’d have someone on her side.

  “Mom, what does Rebecca mean, you aren’t taking care of Daddy?” Brontë asked, a frown marring her pretty face. A worried-looking Todd stood behind her.

  Elyse sighed wearily. She hadn’t expected it to take long for Rebecca to spread more gloom and doom. “Sit down, kids, and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

  She related yesterday’s incident, including her clashes with their father and older sister, then sat back expectantly, waiting for them to express indignation.

  Todd looked puzzled. “Mom . . . I don’t get it. Who is this guy, anyway?”

  Elyse’s mouth fell open. This wasn’t the response she’d anticipated. Hadn’t Todd heard what she just said about the terrible things that had been said to her, or had he been unable to get past her having lunch with a male friend? “I told you, an old friend. We were kids together. It’s always nice to have someone to tell your troubles to.”

  “But why not Annie?” Brontë asked, shaking her head, referring to the nurse who was Elyse’s closest friend at work. “Or one of your friends from the projects whom you grew up with, like Miss Susan?”

  Elyse tried not to show her disappointment. Her own children were acting like she had done something wrong.

  “Because,” she said testily, “my friends are busy with their own families, and besides, sometimes even very good friends can act strangely when illness hits close to home.” Neither statement was one hundred percent true. Only Susan had young children, and only Grace sounded a little stiff and unnatural when she called to offer assistance, like she really didn’t mean it; Pat expressed genuine concern and support. Elyse had no doubt that they would react the same way when they learned of Franklin’s relapse. But she needed support and had to give as many valid reasons as possible, since Todd and Brontë couldn’t get past this man/woman thing.

  “And because Kevin suggested we have lunch together,” she continued. “He wanted to try to cheer me up. What was I supposed to do, turn him down and keep trying to manage by myself just because of his gender? My having lunch with him is no different than if I ate with Susan, Pat, or Annie.” She grunted. “I’ll bet Rebecca wouldn’t have been on the phone to Frankie if that had been Susan sitting on the same side of the booth with me trying to get me to stop crying.”

  Elyse watched as Todd and Brontë looked at each other. “Mom’s right,” Brontë said. “You and I are down at school. She should be able to lean on any of her friends who’s available, even if it’s a man.”

  “Answer this question for me,” Elyse commanded. “Do you honestly believe that I would cheat on your father with anyone?”

  “No, Mom,” Todd said. “And I think Dad was wrong to say those things to you. Rebecca, too.”

  “Let’s go in and talk to him now, Todd,” Brontë suggested.

  “Come on. We’ll see Rebecca as soon as she gets up.”

  Relief flooded through Elyse. This was more like it. She needed a show of support. Maybe the kids could make Franklin see how silly he was being. “Why don’t I make us all a nice breakfast? I’ll get it started while you two are in with your father.”

  As Elyse mixed pancake batter, her thoughts kept going back to the half-truths she’d just told. She’d gotten Todd and Brontë over to her side of the issue, but she’d done it under not entirely accurate circumstances. It didn’t feel good.

  As she heated the electric griddle, she decided to confide in her friends when she saw them next week, provided anybody showed up.

  Chapter 50

  Late October

  Skokie, Illinois

  “This was smart, to meet at three o’clock,” Susan remarked as she glanced around the restaurant with its empty tables. It’s too late for lunch, and too early for dinner, so we avoided the crowd and they won’t rush us out of here.”

  “At least not until the dinner rush starts,” Grace said.

  “This is what we’ll do,” Pat suggested. “Whenever we notice the waiter looking at us funny, somebody order another drink. They won’t ask us to leave if we’re still spending money.”

  “But they will if we get drunk,” Elyse said with a laugh.

  In the end they ordered a bottle of Merlot. Elyse hoped the liquor would help everyone relax. She could practically reach out and feel the tension in the air.

  The waiter filled their glasses. “I propose a toast,” Susan said, holding up her glass. “Here’s to almost fifty years of friendship. May we always be there for each other, through ups and downs, good times and bad. . . .”

  They clicked glasses and drank. “All right,” Pat began, “I know that you two know that Grace and I were on the outs, but we had a good talk on the drive up here, and we’ll be all right. Won’t we, Grace?”

  “You betcha. I’m just glad that everything worked out with you and Andy.”

  “Yeah, it did. I’m feeling very happy these days.”

  “Do I hear wedding bells?” Susan asked, her voice ringing with excitement.

  “No. But we’re in love and we’re happy. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to say that.” Pat looked at Elyse. “And how’s everything with you? How’s Franklin?”

  Elyse swallowed. She didn’t want to put a pall over their luncheon. “He’s not doing too well. The cancer has spread, and it doesn’t look good.” She stopped to listen to the sympathetic murmurings she’d known would come.

  “You seem like you’re dealing with it pretty well,” Grace commented.

  “I think it helps that after his first diagnosis Franklin and I did a lot of talking about what we would do if this happened. But he didn’t tell me then that he wouldn’t want to undergo more treatment because he didn’t want me to get upset.”

  “I guess it would be different if his remission had lasted longer,” Pat said cautiously.

  “I think so, too. But he was never cancer free. There was always a possibility that it would show up elsewhere in his body.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Pat asked.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Susan asked.

  “I’m still trying to come to terms with it. And, yes, there is something you can do. I’d like your take on something that happened the other day. I was having lunch with Kevin, and when I told him about Franklin’s prognosis I broke down. He came to sit on my side of the booth to comfort me, and at that moment in walks my stepdaughter. She told her brother, and he told Franklin, and Franklin’s been mad at me ever since. He said some pretty nasty things to me.”

  “I’m a little surprised that you told Kevin about Franklin before you told any of us,” Pat said. “Are you two really all that close?”

  “No, not really. We’d actually had a disagreement. After Franklin’s diagnosis, I asked myself if my own life was tied up in a neat little bundle if I were to die suddenly, and I decided to make up with him.”

  “What happened with you and Kevin?” This from Grace.

  “It wasn’t really a disagreement,” Elyse clarified. “We’d just finished having lunch, and he walked me to my car. Before I got in he suddenly grabbed me and . . . kissed me.”

  Susan’s jaw dropped. “He kissed you?”

  “Yes.”

  “From the guilty look on your face, I guess it was no quick peck on the lips.”

  Elyse didn’t back down. “I won’t lie to you. It felt real good.”

  Susan shrugged. “I’m sure, but it wasn’t appropriate behavior, feeding you his tongue in a parking lot. Did he have the decency to apologize?”

  “Yes. Well, sort of.” She recounted what Kevin had said to her.

  “So you made up,” Pat said. “That’s a goo
d thing, but you don’t plan on seeing him again, do you? It seems like he caused a lot of trouble in your household, even if it was indirectly. And I agree with Susan. He had no business kissing you.”

  “Why shouldn’t I see him again? Kevin showed me affection. He showed me that he thinks I’m attractive. You have no idea how wonderful that sounds to me after having to put up with all Franklin’s insults. If I try to get him to eat something he’ll say things like, ‘You’re a lousy cook,’ or, ‘I wouldn’t put it past you to poison me so you can be the merry widow.’ ” She grabbed a napkin and furiously dabbed at her eyes; it hurt just to repeat the things that came out of Franklin’s mouth.

  Susan took a deep breath. “Elyse, I’m so sorry. It isn’t fair for Franklin to say those things to you. It’s verbal abuse, and I’m sure it hurts almost as much as if he’d physically slapped you. But if you continue to see Kevin, you might do something you’ll regret.”

  That thought had occurred to Elyse, but she didn’t want to admit it. Instead she fixated on Grace. “Grace, you’ve been awfully quiet. What do you think?”

  “Are you sure he’s not after something?” Grace asked bluntly.

  Elyse’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, Grace. I might not work out like you do, and I admit I need to lose some weight, but it’s still a stretch for you to say that the only way a man will find me attractive is if there’s something in it for him.”

  “That’s not what I meant, so don’t get your nipple in a knot. I’m just saying that men often have ulterior motives, and that Kevin is no different from anyone else. Trust me, Elyse. I’ve been out there in the dating world a long time.”

  “Kevin doesn’t know anything about what I have or don’t have. I don’t wear designer duds or tool around town in a Maserati.”

  “No, but think about it. He knows what you do for a living. Physical therapists make good money, Elyse. I’m sure he also knows that Franklin is a software developer. I’m sure the fact that you live in Lake Forest has come up. Elyse, there are no poor folks living in Lake Forest, just people like Michael Jordan and Lovie Smith.”