Megan's Way (11 page)

“I know, baby. I love you, too,” Megan said,
understanding the growing pain in the pit of her stomach as
Olivia’s. “Olivia, I love you so much, baby, so much.”

“Mom,” Olivia said again, barely able to
speak, unable to form other words through her sadness.

Holly snuck out of the room and downstairs to
phone Jack.

When the air around them settled, they
released their grips and eased their hands into one another’s.
Megan felt consumed by Olivia’s emotions: confusion, love,
hurt.

“Mama, why didn’t you tell me?” Olivia asked,
her tears morphing into sniffles.

Megan regained her composure, “Oh, Livi,” she
looked sadly into her eyes, “how could I tell you that you weren’t
going to have a mom anymore? I just couldn’t.” She shook her head,
brought her hand up to cup Olivia’s cheek. “My baby girl—i love you
so much. I didn’t want you to suffer longer than you had to.”

“But what about you, Mom? Aren’t
you…suffering?” she asked quietly.

“Only in my heart, baby,” Megan said. “What
happened?” Olivia asked.

Megan explained about the cancer and the
speed with which it had taken over her body. She told Olivia about
her prognosis and the great pain that she took in making her
decision to stop taking the medication and to forgo further
treatment. While she relayed her battle to her daughter, she
couldn’t help but second guess every decision she had ever made
throughout her life. Should she have told Olivia who her father
was? Should she have taken the medication? Should she have ended
things with Lawrence?

Olivia listened intently, trying to imagine
her mother actually making the final decision to let herself die.
She couldn’t put the picture together in her mind. She knew her
mother had been sick, and it was obvious by her size and demeanor
that she was not going to get better, but the thought that her
mother had
made that choice
was too much for her to bear.
She tried not to hear the rest of what Megan had to say, staring
out the window and filling her head with thoughts of the previous
summer instead.

Megan continued, noticing Olivia’s vacant
stare. She explained to Olivia that if she were to continue
medications and try surgery, it would be weeks of hospitalizations
and months of chemo and radiation, and in the end, she still
wouldn’t live. As she spoke, Olivia’s facial expression didn’t
waiver. Her eyes didn’t shift, her breathing didn’t hitch. She was
no longer there.
She’s found a safe place to hide
.

A single lonely tear slipped silently down
Olivia’s cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Olivia,” Megan said, her own
eyes turning to liquid. Her voice became a whisper, “The idea of
you watching me deteriorate, all the while hoping that I would live
longer, it just—”

Olivia leaned into her mother, resting her
forehead on her chest, or what was left of it. She whispered,
“Stop, Mom. I get it. I know. I can’t hear anymore.”

Megan stroked her daughter’s head.

“What will I do without you?” Olivia asked,
the words, muffled by Megan’s chest and shirt, filled with
fear.

“You will go on, baby. You will live your
life, and love your life. You will live as if I am still here.” She
leaned back and put her hands on Olivia’s wet cheeks, wiping her
tears with her thumbs. “Baby, I’ll still be here.” She placed her
hand on Olivia’s heart. “I’ll always be here. You just won’t be
able to see me.”

“Or maybe I will,” Olivia said, and tried to
force a smile. “I mean, how many other mothers feel their
children’s pain, right? Maybe I
will
be able to see you.”
Olivia had hope in her eyes.

“Maybe, I hope so, and if there is a way, I
will try, but Olivia, you must know that I want you to continue on
with your life. Have a wonderful life! Do it for me.”

“Where will I go, Mom? I mean, who will want
me to live with them?” Olivia asked, letting her sad gaze drop
toward the bedspread.

They both turned at the sound of Holly’s
voice. “Why, Olivia, how could you not think I would want you? I
adore you. Jack adores you.”

Olivia looked at her mother with a question
in her eyes, but remained silent.

Megan nodded her head. “Holly has always been
like your mom, right? She’s been here for us always.”

“Yeah, but—” Olivia said.

“But what, honey?” Megan asked.

“But they don’t have kids. I’ll be a pain to
them, a burden,” Olivia said.

Holly walked to the bed and knelt in front of
Olivia. “Livi, how could you ever be a burden to me? I cherish you.
I love you. We both do.”

“Livi, we decided this long ago when you were
just a little girl. Holly has always wanted you. She’s your
godmother. She and Jack love you.”

“Yeah, but—” Olivia said again. “What is it,
honey?” Megan asked.

“Do I have a dad, Mom? What if after you—you
know—

what if he comes and wants me?” Olivia
asked.

“Livi, I know that I haven’t told you much
about your father—” Megan started.

“Much? How about
anything
,” Olivia
interrupted.

“Okay, that’s fair. I promise you, your
father will not…interrupt your life. That’s a guarantee,” Megan
said.

“But how can you know? What if I want to meet
him, and I can’t because I don’t know who he is?” she asked.

Megan eyed Holly, hoping she would catch on
to the look, “When you are eighteen, Holly will tell you
everything. Until then, I just think this is better. Even though
you think you should know, there’s a lot of confusion that goes
with things like this, a lot of responsibility. You may not be
ready for it. On this, Olivia, you have to trust me.”

Olivia relented with a sigh, not wanting to
upset her mother any more than she already had.

Holly gave Megan a look that said,
What? I
don’t even know who he is
.

Megan’s heart filled with pride as she
watched Olivia set out candles and put up decorations, bringing
their little cottage to life for her birthday ritual. Olivia’s
actions were soft, her arms and legs flowed like the delicate
branches of a willow tree, and her fine hair brushed her shoulders
in soft, swift movements. Real life hadn’t yet marred her skin;
innocence and tenderness remained on the surface. From her perch on
the couch, Megan could feel the angst that Olivia was swallowing
and watched as she tucked it behind the lump in her narrow throat.
Megan’s pride was replaced with guilt which simmered just below the
surface of her skin.

“Livi,” she said gently. “I know you want to
be there tonight, but you understand, don’t you? This is something
that I do with them every year. It’s…” she gazed out the window and
watched the trees blow in the gentle breeze, “It’s
our
thing.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, turned to her mother,
and sighed. She planted her hands on her hips. “I know! okay? I
hear it every year,” her voice rose. “
Your
friends,
your
thing. When do I get to be part of it, Mom? When is it
my
turn to be part of
your
world?”

Megan cocked her head and raised an eyebrow,
pursing her lips as if taking a stance. When her mother’s silence
grew too thick to bear, Olivia turned her back and stormed
upstairs. Her words, “That’s what I thought,” wound their way
through the air and stung as they settled roughly in Megan’s
ears.

Megan hunkered down beneath her chenille
afghan and waited for her daughter’s storm to pass.

The chime of the doorbell woke Megan from her
light nap. She climbed off of the couch, adjusted her long cotton
patchwork skirt of pale and muted pastels, and straightened her
watery green crushed cotton top. Just as she reached the door,
Olivia bounded down the stairs, “I’ve got it!” she yelled, barely
missing barreling into her mother, who simply smiled and stepped
aside.

The heavy oak door swung open. Standing on
the front porch in her comfortable black wispy skirt, matching
vest, buttoned only halfway up, her white cotton shirt open to
reveal a hint of cleavage, was Holly. She thrust a large red box
beautifully adorned with a fat gold ribbon toward Megan with a
smile.

Megan reached for the box. “Thank you!”

“Olivia!” Holly exclaimed as she pulled the
young girl into her arms and shot Megan a look that said,
Another teenage mood
? “Ready for the big night?”

“Hi, Holly!” Olivia replied, as she embraced
the woman who one day would be her
new
mother. “Holly,” she
said as she eyed her mother, “can you please talk to Mom about me
coming to the bonfire tonight?
Please?
”

Holly patted Olivia’s shoulder as she brushed
past her and reached out to Megan. “Oh Meg,” she said. Her breath
left her with a whoosh as she took in her best friend’s frail frame
and dark circles under her eyes. Hugging her tightly, she said,
“You look wonderful, honey.” She stepped back and rubbed her hands
together, the unsettling feel of Megan’s fine back bones lingered
on their surface.

Megan smiled, “Thanks, Hol.” She glanced down
at her outfit which hung loosely around her body and felt a wave of
shame. She remembered how she used to torture herself, wishing that
someday she would be thin enough to look beautiful in any clothes
she put on, like the young models in fashion magazines, tall and
lanky with smoky eyes and tiny little waists. Now, though, she
didn’t find the look so appealing, and she would have gladly
welcomed back the extra ten pounds she used to wear around her
middle.

Olivia bounced on her toes as she took the
package from her mother and placed it on the table in the foyer.
“Holly?” Motioning with her hands for Holly to hurry up, she put
forth her saddest look, pleading her case.

Holly looked from Olivia to Megan, “Oh, Livi,
that’s a decision of your mom’s. I’m not sure I want to be in the
middle of that battle.”

“Whatever!” Olivia stormed out of the
room.

Megan and Holly shared a laugh as they
followed Olivia. Candles illuminated the rich textures and warm
dark hues of the cozy living room. The stone fireplace threw just
enough heat to take the chill out of the evening—and an occasional
spark. Holly poured herself a glass of wine. “Meg, would you like a
glass?”

Megan took the glass slowly and sipped the
White Zinfandel, reveling in the sweet floral taste as it wound its
way down her throat. She closed her eyes, and tried to memorize the
feel of the soft liquid, the swell of the cool glass in her
hand.

“So, Holly, what’s new in the life of the
world’s best editor?” she asked, lifting her glass to her lips
again.

Just as Holly started to answer, the doorbell
chimed through the hall. Olivia rushed toward it. “I’ve got it!”
she hollered.

Holly turned to Megan and spoke quietly,
“What’s up with her, Meg?”

“Oh, she hates that she isn’t included in our
little ritual.”

“Well,” Holly said as she placed her hand on
Megan’s shoulder, and took it back quickly as the feel of her bones
made her too sad to let it remain, “maybe it is time. I mean, she’s
fourteen, that’s old enough to join us.”

“I know, Holly. It’s just that…well…”
Threatened by a veil of tears, she closed her eyes tightly and
walked away.

She hesitated by the French doors and looked
out at the dune grass in the distance. “I need one more time. For
me, you know? I know that sounds selfish, but I do. I need it.”
Megan placed her hand flat against the cool glass. As she committed
the feeling to memory, she realized there were many little details
of life that she wanted to hold on to; the smell of the fireplace
after the fire had died down; and the sound of Olivia in the
bathroom after her shower, humming and dancing around as Megan knew
that she did; the angelic look of Olivia’s face when she was fast
asleep, and the smell of her breath in the morning; the soothing
sound of the dishwasher at night, and the wintry gust of the winds
across the beach; the sound of that crazy cardinal running beak
first into her window. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized
that the bird had not appeared that morning.

“I just always thought,” Megan said as she
turned to face Holly, “that I would have more time, that she would
grow up doing the ritual with us, with me. Now I just feel…rushed,
like I have to make a choice, like it’s either my time or
hers.”

Olivia popped back into the living room, “One
of your men has arrived, Madam,” she smirked, smiling at her
mother.

“Livi, come here,” Megan said, motioning to
Olivia with open arms.

Sighing, Olivia fell into the familiar safety
of her mother’s thin arms, taking in the smell of her body lotion,
lavender and coconut, and whispered in her ear, “I love you,
Mom.”

“I love you, too, muffin,” Megan whispered in
return, holding back the wave of tears that vied to be set free.
She moved Olivia’s hair to the side and kissed her daughter’s
cheek.

“Then can I join you?” Olivia asked
excitedly. “For the ritual?” She held her mother tighter, hoping
for a positive answer.

“Let me think about it,” Megan said,
happily.

“Really! oh, Mom, thank you!” Olivia’s voice
danced with excitement and hope.

“I said,
think about it
.”

“I know, I know, but usually when you say
that, it means there’s a good chance!” She gave her mother a quick
kiss on the cheek. “Oh, thank you, Mom! Think about it!”

“What was all that about?” Peter asked, his
lean body came forth to embrace Megan, tensed, and took extra
caution not to squeeze Megan too tightly.

“Hey Peter! I assumed Jack was coming with
you,” Megan said, as she hugged him and moved slowly across the
shining hardwood floor towards the couch. “Where is he?” she looked
toward Holly. “And Peter, I thought you were bringing Cruz.”