She Has Your Eyes (25 page)

chapter thirty-one

After a battle with Mom about my wanting to stay an extra day and her practically throwing me out (the rest had done her good, although she was still weak), I took the last ferry out of Orient Point that evening and didn’t arrive in Northampton until late. Even though we both apologized, David and I had spoken little since the fight that sent me to spend the night in the study, and I’d been too preoccupied with Mom to properly patch things up.

When I pulled up to the house, the outside light flicked on and David emerged from the front door. I killed the ignition and he opened my car door for me like a valet or a chauffeur, popped the trunk, and retrieved my overnight bag. Once inside the house, I dropped my briefcase and shoulder bag, as if surrendering in defeat, and fell into his arms, where he caught me and held on tight.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked him after he practically carried me upstairs to bed.

“Tell you what?” he asked.

“You never told me what it was like when your dad had cancer. The treatments, the side effects…”

“That’s because I didn’t know. At least not firsthand. He never let my sisters or me see him that way. Only my mother. I was so mad at him for that, thought it was unfair for her to shoulder that burden all by herself. But she insisted that he was trying to spare all of us, that she would’ve done the same in his place.”

“It was awful, Dev. After the treatment, I mean. She was sick as a dog.”

“I’m so sorry,
cara
.”

“I remember telling you once that you were lucky because you had the chance to say good-bye to your dad and tell him that you loved him, and I didn’t have that with Sam. But at least he was killed on impact. He didn’t suffer. I didn’t have to watch him deteriorate. I know that last part sounds selfish, but—”

“No, I understand,” David finished for me. “He probably wouldn’t have wanted you to see him suffer, either. No one wants to put their loved ones through that.”

I sighed in an effort to exhale my mental exhaustion. “Can we talk about something else, please? Any good news to report?”

“I’m going to visit Wylie this weekend. She asked if you were coming, and I told her about how you’re preoccupied with your mom.”

“You told her about my mother having cancer?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Andi, she’s family now. I think she was a little disappointed that you didn’t tell her yourself.”

“Didn’t it occur to you that my mother might not want the entire world knowing?”

“What, you think Wylie’s going to post it on Facebook?”

“What
has
she been posting on Facebook? About you, I mean. Did her friends know her father wasn’t really her father in the first place?”

“I haven’t asked her about it.”

For some reason I didn’t believe him. Although, come to think of it, I hadn’t asked her either. Why?

“Well, maybe you should. After all, that’s your life she’s making public as much as hers. And mine. Ours.”

“So?”

“So… so you never know who she knows. She might know someone who knows someone who knew you back when you were an escort. In fact, that you’ve managed to keep your former life out of your clients’ sight this long is pretty remarkable, don’t you think?”

“She’s a teenager, Andi. I doubt she knows anyone who—”

“It’s a small world, Dev.”

“OK,” he said, “I’ll make sure she’s being discreet.” He turned out the light and kissed me gently on my forehead, pulling a strand of hair away from my eyes.

Once in bed, I lay still and replayed the conversation, wondering why I was so defensive. It came to me moments later.

“David?” I called.

“Yes?”

“Did you not want me to come with you?”

“I just figured you’d be busy catching up with your classes and whatnot.”

I didn’t believe him. Could hear the lie in his voice. Or, if not the lie, the omission.

“You could have at least asked me,” I said. “I would have liked to have come with you.”

The room was dark and silent.

“Janine doesn’t want me at the house, right?” I said. “Even with you there.”

He didn’t respond right away. “She’ll come around.”

So that was that. David’s telling Wylie about my mother was a convenient cover, an excuse for me to be out of her life. And I had no choice but to give in to what David and Janine, and perhaps even Peter, wanted.

I fell asleep, and dreamed that I was serenading Sam in his wrecked Mustang, singing “Two of Us,” as if it were the only way to bring him back to life. I even remember thinking how stupid I’d been for not trying it years ago.

chapter thirty-two

I overslept the next morning, but still made it to class on time. I had considered canceling, but given that I was already getting someone else to cover for me once a week, I didn’t want to give students the impression that I didn’t care. I dragged myself from hallway to hallway, room to room, keeping lessons brief and ending workshops early. Jeff was right yet again—I didn’t know what I had gotten myself into. But the semester would be ending in less than two months, with Thanksgiving break smack in the middle. Surely I could hold out for two months, couldn’t I? I wouldn’t be going to Long Island again until Thanksgiving, and then I’d wait until the semester was over and stay there straight through Christmas break. David and I discussed it.

As I walked across the parking lot, classes completed, my cell phone rang. Normally I turned it off during the school day, but because of the situation with my mother I now kept it on at all times. And sure enough, it was her.

“Hi, Mom,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Andi?”

I stiffened the moment I heard the alarm in her voice.

“Mom, what is it?”

She cried. “My hair is falling out! I knew it was going to happen, I just didn’t expect it to… I can’t go anywhere like this, Andi! I don’t know what to do or who to call!”

I did an about-face and raced back to my office the moment she spoke, closed and locked the door, and went to my desk, as if sitting there would allow me to think more clearly.

“Is there someone at the Cancer Center who can help you?”

“I have to buy a wig. How am I going to buy a wig looking like this?”

“Where are Joey and Tony?”

“Are you listening to me?” she yelled, panicked. “I can’t let
anyone
see me like this! Especially not your brothers. Please, Andrea, I need
you
.”

“Mom, even if I were able to get standby on the ferry, by the time I got to Long Island the stores would be closing. Plus it’ll be rush hour.… I just can’t.” Despite my compassionate tone, I felt like I’d just slammed a door in her face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath so as not to be swept up in her panic. I knew what she was asking. This was my mother, Genevieve Cutrone, who never left the house without a full face of makeup, even in the first days after my father died. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear a pair of blue jeans.

“I’m going to leave first thing in the morning, I promise. In the meantime, call the Cancer Center and ask them what to do. It’s going to be OK, Mom.”

“We should’ve done this weeks ago,” she scolded. “We should’ve been prepared.”

“Yes, you’re right,” I said. “I should’ve thought of it.”

She cried. “I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to admit that this is really happening.”

I willed to keep my composure. “No one does, Mom. You’re human.”

She didn’t answer.

“Call the Cancer Center,” I said again, trying to be direct but nurturing. “OK?”

She finally got herself together. “OK. I’m sorry, dear.”

Her tenderness toward me in the midst of her upset touched me, and my eyes welled up. “It’s OK. I’ll be there tomorrow and we’ll go wig shopping first thing. Scratch that—we’ll go get
bagels
first; then we’ll go shopping.”

She managed a tiny laugh, and I smiled in spite of myself. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you,” she said, and we hung up.

When I got home I explained the situation to David before calling Joey and Tony afterward.

“Too bad the ferry isn’t on the way to Hartford. I would’ve dropped you off instead of you driving—although come to think of it, you would then need someone to pick you up at Orient Point.”

“You’re still going to see Wylie?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m having a bit of a crisis here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Andi, you just told me your mother won’t let your brothers see her. What makes you think she’ll want me around?”

“I need some support too, you know.”

“So, what, you want me to just sit around on the Island? Or here, for that matter?”

“Would it kill you to do that for me?”

“Wylie’s going to think I don’t care.”

I lost it. “Well, you know what? Too bad. She’s going to have to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around her, just
like every other fifteen-year-old. Frankly, I expected you to be more supportive. I seem to recall you canceling appointments left and right when your father was sick.”

“I wouldn’t have canceled on my daughter.”

“You don’t know that,” I argued. “You don’t know what you would’ve done. Besides,” I said, “It’s not like she needs you. She already has a father. And a mother. She doesn’t
need
us, Dev. We’re not her family. We’re… we’re
home wreckers
!”

David’s face turned hot tamale red with anger; invisible smoke shot out of his ears like a pressure cooker.

“This time
I’m
going to sleep in the study.” And with that he slammed the bedroom door behind him.

I arose early the next morning without an alarm and drove to New London without saying good-bye to David. While waiting for the ferry I chatted with Andrew via Gmail chat—we kept the conversation casual, but I found myself wanting to tell him about the fight with David. Why did I want to tell
him
and not Maggie or Miranda? Worse still, when had
David
stopped being my confidant? Why didn’t I follow him into the study last night, lock the door, and refuse to leave until we worked things out? That was more our style.

Maybe because David had stopped confiding in me. Wylie was his priority now. And maybe even Janine. I had the urge to call Peter Baker and ask him how his marriage was holding up, if he’d spent any nights on the couch lately. At least he and I could commiserate.

Before I boarded the ferry, Andrew and I arranged a day to meet.

Me:
Just so you know, I’m going to tell David about it. I don’t want him (or you) to think this is some kind of date between you and me.

I wondered if that caveat was for Andrew’s sake or for mine.

Andrew:
I’m sure that’s a wise thing to do. And I don’t think it’s a date.

When I got to Mom’s house, I entered using my key and found her bundled in her fleece robe and asleep on the couch, a scarf ineptly wrapped around her head. Tears came to my eyes. I covered her with a blanket, went to my room, and dropped off for a nap.

chapter thirty-three

November

“You can’t keep doing this,” said Maggie. “You’ve lost weight. You’re pale. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. I haven’t seen you this ragged since Sam died.”