Fine things (19 page)

“Hi, sweetheart, all set?” She was dressed and waiting in her room, in a new wig his mother had brought out. This one looked so real he couldn't even tell it wasn't her hair, and other than the dark circles under her eyes and the fact that she was so thin, she looked very pretty. She was wearing a light blue shirtwaist dress and matching espadrilles and the blond hair of the wig cascaded over her shoulders much the way her own hair would have.

“What did they tell you?” She looked worried. She knew something was wrong. The ribs hurt too much, and it was a sharp pain like nothing she'd ever had before.

“Nothing much. Nothing new. The chemo seems to be working.”

Liz looked up at her doctor. “Then why do my ribs hurt so much?”

“Have you been picking up the baby a lot?” He smiled at her, and she nodded, thinking back. She carried him all the time. He wasn't walking yet, and he always wanted to be carried.

“Yes.”

“And how much does he weigh?”

She smiled at the question. “The pediatrician wants to put him on a diet. He weighs twenty-six pounds.”

“Does that answer your question?” It didn't, but it was a noble attempt and Bernie was grateful to him.

The nurse wheeled her to the lobby and Liz left with her arm tucked in Bernie's. But she was walking more slowly now, and he noticed that she winced when she got into the car.

“Is the pain very bad, baby?” She hesitated and then nodded. She could barely speak. “Do you think your Lamaze breathing would help?” It was a stroke of genius and they tried it on the way home, and she said it gave her some relief. And she had the pills with her that the doctor had prescribed for her.

“I don't want to take them till I have to. Maybe at night.”

“Don't be a hero.”

“You're the hero, Mr. Fine.” She leaned over and kissed him gently.

“I love you, Liz.”

“You're the best man in the world …I'm sorry to put you through all this …” It was so hard on everyone, and she knew it. It was hard on her, too, and she hated it, but she also hated it for them, and once in a while, she even hated them because they weren't dying.

He drove her home and helped her up the steps, and when they arrived, Jane and his mother were waiting. Jane was looking worried because it was so late and they weren't home yet, but the bone scan and the X rays had taken a long time. And it was four o'clock by the time they got home, and Jane was haranguing Bernie's mother.

“She
always
comes home in the morning, Grandma. Something's wrong, I
know
it.” She made Ruth call, but by then Liz was on her way home, and Ruth looked at Jane knowingly as the front door opened.

“See!” But what she saw and Jane didn't was that Liz looked much weaker than she had before and she seemed to be in pain although she didn't admit it.

But she refused to cut down her teaching. She was determined to finish the year, no matter what, and Bernie didn't argue with her about it, although Ruth told him he was crazy when she dropped in on him at the store on her last day in San Francisco.

“She doesn't have the strength. Can't you see that?”

He shouted back at her in his office. “Dammit, Mom, the doctor said it wouldn't hurt her.”

“It'll kill her!”

And then suddenly the rage he felt spent itself on his mother.

“No, it won't! The
cancer
is going to kill her! That's what's going to kill her, that goddamn rotten disease that's rotting her whole body …that's what's going to kill her and it doesn't make a damn bit of difference if she sits home and waits or goes to school or has chemotherapy or doesn't or goes to Lourdes, it's
still going
to
kill
her.” The tears rushed into his throat like a bursting dam and he turned away from his mother and paced the room. He stood with his back to her finally, looking blindly out the window. “I'm sorry.” It was the voice of a broken man, and it tore his mother's heart out to hear him. She walked slowly to where he stood and put her hands on his shoulders.

“I'm sorry …I'm so sorry, sweetheart…this shouldn't happen to anyone, and not to people you love, especially….”

“It shouldn't even happen to people you hate.” There was no one he would have visited this on. No one. He turned slowly to face her. “I keep thinking of what's going to happen to Jane and the baby…. What are we going to do without her?” The tears filled his eyes again. He felt as though he had been crying for months and he had. It was six months since they'd found out, six months as they slid into the abyss, praying for something to stop them.

“Do you want me to stay out here for a while? I can. Your father would understand perfectly. In fact, he suggested it to me last night when I called him. Or I can take the children home with me, but I don't think that would be fair to them or Liz.” She had grown to be such a decent, sensible woman, it amazed him. Gone was the woman who had given him bulletins on Mrs. Finklestein's gallstones all his life, the woman who had threatened to have a heart attack every time he dated a girl who wasn't Jewish. He smiled, thinking back to the night at Cote Basque when he had told her he was marrying a Catholic named Elizabeth O'Reilly.

“Remember that, Mom?” They both smiled. It had been two and a half years before, and it felt like a lifetime.

“I do. I keep hoping you'll forget it.” But the memory only made him smile now. “What about my staying out here to give you kids a hand?” He was thirty-seven years old and he didn't feel like a kid. He felt a hundred.

“I appreciate the offer, Mom, but I think it's important to Liz to maintain things as normally as she can. We're going to move to the beach as soon as school lets out, and I'll commute. In fact, I'm taking six weeks off till the middle of July, and I'll take more if I have to. Paul Berman has been very understanding.”

“All right.” She nodded sensibly. “But if you want me, I'll be on the next plane. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He saluted, and then gave her a hug. “Now go do some shopping. And if you have time, maybe you could pick something nice out for Liz. She's down to preteen sizes now.” There was nothing left of her. She weighed eighty-five pounds, from a hundred and twenty. “But she'd love something new. She doesn't have the energy to shop for herself now.” Or for Jane, but he brought home boxes and boxes of clothes for the children. The manager of the department had a major crush on Jane and hadn't stopped sending Alexander presents since before he was born. And right now Bernie appreciated the attention they were getting. He was so distracted himself that he felt as though he weren't doing either of them justice. He felt as though he had barely looked at the baby since he was six months old, and he snapped at Jane constantly, only because she was there, and he loved her, and they both felt so helpless. It was a hard time for everyone, and Bernie was sorry they hadn't gone to a shrink, as Tracy had suggested. Liz had rejected the idea out of hand, and now he was sorry.

The worst moment of all came the next day when Ruth left for the airport. She stopped at the house first, in the morning before Liz left for school. Tracy picked Jane up every day now, and Bernie had already left for work. But Liz was waiting for the sitter so she could leave for school, and Alexander was down for his morning nap. Liz went to the door, and for a moment the two women stood in the doorway knowing why she had come. There was no pretense as their eyes met, and then Liz reached out and hugged her.

“Thank you for coming. …”

“I wanted to say goodbye to you. I'll be praying for you, Liz.”

“Thank you.” She couldn't say more as the tears filled her eyes and she looked at Ruth. “Take care of them for me, Grandma …” It was only a whisper …“And take care of Bernie.”

“I promise. Take care of yourself. Do everything they tell you.” She squeezed the frail shoulders and noticed suddenly that Liz was wearing the dress she had bought her the day before. “We love you, Liz …very, very much….”

“I love you too.” She held her for one more minute and then turned to leave, with a last wave, as Liz stood in the doorway, watching the cab pull away. Ruth waved for as long as she could see her.

Chapter 21

Liz managed to hang onto her classes until the end of school. Bernie and the doctor were amazed that she could do it. She had to take the Demerol every afternoon now and Jane complained that she slept all the time, but she didn't know how to voice the complaints that she really felt. The real complaint was that her mother was dying.

The last day of school was June ninth, and Liz went in one of the new dresses Ruth had bought her before she left. She talked to them all the time on the phone, and Ruth told her funny stories about the people in Scarsdale.

Liz drove Jane to school herself on the last day, and Jane looked at her happily. Her mother looked wide-eyed and alert and beautiful, just like she had before, only thinner, and they were moving to Stinson Beach the next day. She could hardly wait. And she scampered off to her own classroom in a pink dress and black patent-leather shoes that Grandma Ruth had helped her pick out for the occasion. There was going to be a party with cakes and cookies and milk before dismissal.

And when Liz walked into her classroom, she closed the door quietly and turned to look at her students. They were all there, twenty-one little clean shining faces, bright eyes and expectant smiles, and she knew for certain that they loved her. And she knew just as certainly that she loved them. And she had to say goodbye to them now. She couldn't just leave them, disappear without explaining. She turned and drew a big heart on the blackboard with pink chalk and they giggled.

“Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!” She looked happy today, and she was. She had completed something that meant a great deal to her. It was her gift to them, and herself, and to Jane.

“It's not Valentine's Day!” Bill Hitchcock announced. “It's Christmas!” Ever the wise guy and she laughed.

“Nope. Today is my Valentine's Day to you. This is my chance to tell you how much I love you.” She felt a lump rise in her throat and she knew she couldn't let it. “I want everyone to be very quiet for a little while. I have a Valentine for everyone …and then we're going to have a party of our own …before the other party!” They began to look intrigued and sat as still as they could, considering it was the last day. She called them up, one by one, and handed them each a Valentine she had made, which told them what she loved best about them, their skills, and their best features, and their achievements. She reminded each one of how well they had done, even if it was only at sweeping the playground. She reminded each one of the fun they had had, and each Valentine was covered with cutouts and pictures and funny sayings that were important to each child, and they sat back, a little awed, holding their Valentines like rare gifts, which they were. It had taken her months and the last of her strength to make them.

And then she pulled out two trays of heart-shaped cupcakes and another tray of beautifully decorated cookies. She had made them for everyone, and she hadn't even told Jane. She had just told her that it was for the main party. And she had done some for them, too, but these were special. These were for “her” second graders.

“And the last thing I'm going to say to you is how much I love you, how proud I am of how wonderful you've been all year …and how well I know you'll do in third grade next year with Mrs. Rice.”

“Won't you be here anymore, Mrs. Fine?” a little voice piped up from the back row, and a little boy with black hair and dark eyes looked at her sadly, clutching his Valentine in one hand, and his cupcake with the other. It was so beautiful he didn't even want to eat it.

“No, Charlie. I won't. I'm going away for a while.” The tears came anyway. “And I'm going to miss you all terribly. But I'll see you again one day. Each one of you. Remember that…” She took a deep breath and didn't try to hide the tears anymore. “And when you see Jane, my little girl, give her a kiss from me.” There was a loud sob in the front row. It was Nancy Farrell, and she ran up and threw her arms around Liz' neck.

“Please don't go, Mrs. Fine …We love you. …”

“I don't want to, Nancy. I really, really don't…but I think I have to …” And then, one by one, they came up and she kissed them and held each one of them. “I love you. Each and every one of you.” And with that, the bell sounded, and she took a deep breath and looked at them. “I think that means it's time to go to the party.” But they were a solemn little group, and Billy Hitchcock asked if she would visit them. “If I can, Billy.” He nodded, and they filed into the hall more neatly than they had all year, with their goodies in little bags, and their Valentines. And they looked at her, as she smiled at them. She was a part of them forever. And as she stood watching them, Tracy came by, and sensed what had happened. If nothing else, she knew Liz' last day would be hard on her.

“How'd it go?” She whispered.

“Okay, I guess.” She blew her nose and wiped her eyes, and her friend gave her a warm hug.

“Did you tell them?”

“More or less. I said I was leaving. But I think I said it. Some of them understood it.”

“That's a nice gift to give them, Liz, instead of just disappearing from their lives.”

“I couldn't have done that.” She couldn't do it to anyone. Which was why she had appreciated Ruth coming by the house on the way to the airport. It was a time to say goodbyes, and she didn't want to be cheated of the chance to say them. She had a difficult time leaving the teachers when she left the school, and she was exhausted as she and Jane drove home later that morning. Jane was so quiet that it frightened her and she suspected that she might have heard about her “Valentine party” and resented it. She was still trying not to face what was coming.

“Mommy?” It was the most solemn little face Liz had ever seen as she turned off the car and looked at her outside their house.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You're still not getting better, are you?”

“Maybe a little.” She wanted to pretend, for her sake, but they both knew she was lying.

“Can't they do something special?” After all, she was such a special person. Jane was eight years old and she was losing the mother she loved. Why wouldn't anyone help her?

“I feel okay.” Jane nodded, but the tears poured down her cheeks as Liz whispered hoarsely. “I'm so sorry to have to leave you. But I'll always be near you, watching over you and Daddy and Alex.” Jane hurled herself into her mother's arms, and it was a long time before they got out of the car and went inside arm in arm. Jane almost looked bigger than her mother.

That afternoon Tracy came to take Jane out for an ice cream cone and a walk in the park, and she left with a lighter step than Liz had seen in months, and she herself felt better, and closer to the child than she had since it had all begun. It wasn't easier, but it was better.

And that afternoon she sat down with four pieces of paper, and wrote a letter to each of them, not a long one, but she told each of the people she loved how much she loved them, and why, and how much they meant to her, and how sorry she was to leave them. There was a letter for Bernie, and Ruth, and Jane, and Alexander. The one to him was the hardest of all because he would never even have known her.

She slipped the letters into her Bible, which she kept in a dresser drawer, and she felt better after she had done it. It had been on her mind for a long time. And now it was done. And that night, when Bernie came home, they packed for Stinson Beach, and everyone was in a festive mood when they left the next morning.