She Has Your Eyes (31 page)

We watched a mother wheel a cart attached to a play car with her two kids in it, and I pointed in its direction. “Don’t you wish they had those things when we were little?” I said, but she seemed not to hear me.

“Was it hard to be with him after Sam? I mean, is it different?”

Never had we talked like this before, and although the newness of it felt awkward, I drank it like water, parching a lifelong thirst. “Yes, it was. And that was with us already knowing each
other pretty well. It took me a long time to stop feeling like I was betraying Sam. God bless David, he was really patient with me. He had justification to dump me plenty of times.”

“Does he ever feel like there’s a ghost in the room?”

“He doesn’t want me to forget Sam, if that’s what you mean. We never shy away from talking about him. Sometimes he even brings Sam up, like if something reminds him of a story I told him about Sam. And he’s not trying to be a replacement for Sam, nor does he think that’s how I regard him. I don’t think he feels like there’s competition or anything like that. It’s strange. Like I really am married to both of them. And David’s OK with it. At least, he’s never given me any hint that he’s not.”

“You’re a lucky woman, Andi.”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t stand to even think of a man other than your father.”

“I understand. I used to feel that way about Sam.”

“And the thing is, I don’t think he would’ve been OK with the idea of me meeting someone else. If he had known he was going to die, that is. Maybe that’s the other reason why I never remarried, never even considered it.”

“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry,” I said.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. For your being alone all this time.”

“I got used to it. Even got to like it after a while.”

We people-watched a bit more.

“I like that we talk like this now,” she said matter-of-factly.

I closed my eyes for a moment to savor her words. “Me too,” I said.

My hand opened, and she placed hers into it.

“It’s going to be OK, Andi,” she said.

We sat that way until I caught sight of David exiting the store, hidden behind the cart loaded with plastic sacks full of groceries. Mom and I pulled ourselves to our feet.

“Wow,” he said. “It’s like Penn Station in there, only better smelling.” I laughed. Mom smiled. “You two been out here the whole time?”

“It’s a beautiful day,” said Mom.

David squinted and looked around. “It really is. Wait here and I’ll get the car,” he said.

“I’ll get it,” I offered, and headed out to the parking lot, basking in the sun along the way.

We loaded the groceries and drove back to the house. When David and I got a moment alone, he pulled me to him in an embrace, and then let go to take in a view of me.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” It was a moment when everything in the world was OK. Yet behind it lurked a knowing that it wouldn’t last.

He kissed me.

“Mom says I’m a lucky woman,” I said.

“Funny, she said the same thing about herself while we waited for you to get the car.”

“She did?”

He nodded. “Yep. After I told her she raised a wonderful daughter. You know what she said about you?”

I shook my head. “What?”

“She said, ‘She has her father’s eyes.’ ”

chapter thirty-nine

Joey, Tony, David, and I spent most of the day before Thanksgiving prepping, cooking, baking, cleaning the house, doing yard work, and washing Mom’s car while she sat in the sunroom reading a book or closing her eyes, a blanket over her lap. Occasionally she would emerge to supervise.

I got into an argument with her when I found out she had canceled her chemotherapy appointment.

“This isn’t some beauty parlor appointment you’re canceling,” I said. “This is saving your life.”

“It’s
prolonging
my life,” she corrected, “and given that it’s
my
life I can do whatever I damn well want with it. And I choose not to ruin what is likely going to be our last Thanksgiving together by spending it on my knees and retching.”

David concurred. “She’s right, Andi. Leave her alone.”

I looked at him, incredulous. “I thought you of all people would be on my side.”

“I am on your side,” he said. “That’s why I’m telling you to listen to what your mother is saying.”

I tried to rally Joey and Tony, but they were aligned with her as well.

“I can’t believe you two. Don’t you want her around for as long as possible?”

“Not if she’s sick as a dog and miserable all the time,” said Tony. “Look at her, Andi. She’s taking care of herself and she’s content. I don’t understand what you’re so angry about.”

And then it hit me: They were already preparing themselves to let go. I, on the other hand, was clinging to her for dear life, because I finally had the mother I always wanted. The realization smacked me in the face, hard, and I crumpled up in tears as if the pain had been physically inflicted.

“It’s so unfair,” I cried. “We finally…” I couldn’t finish my sentence, and Tony took me into his arms and held me. “I hate that this is what it took,” I said.

“I know,” he said as he consoled me. “I’m sorry.”

After I regained composure, I went to the sunroom and apologized to her.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I said. “I projected my anger on you. I should probably talk to someone about that,” I said, making a mental note to call Melody Greene, the therapist who had helped me cope with Sam’s death, after the holiday weekend.

“It’s OK, Andrea. I understand. Thank you for the apology.”

“Incidentally, have you considered joining a support group or something like that?”

“You know that’s not my style,” she said.

“You never know, maybe it’ll help you. And why not try new things?”

“I am not joining a support group.”

“OK, then how about a counselor, just one on one?”

“Andi, enough.”

I put my hands up in surrender. Just as I left the sunroom, I heard her call out, “I appreciate your concern,” and I smiled. Turned out she was trying new things.

Before David and I went back to the inn for the night, Mom said, “David, why don’t you invite Wylie here for dessert tomorrow?”

Had he had been drinking something, he would’ve done a spit take. I was just as shocked. “Excuse me?” he said.

“I’d like to meet her. After all, she’s going to be Andi’s stepdaughter.”

It was the first time anyone had used the word, and it felt completely inappropriate.

“That’s very kind of you, Genevieve, and I’m sure she would appreciate the invitation. But Wylie’s going to be with her family in Hartford for the day.”

“I just thought it would be nice for Joey’s stepdaughter–to-be—we hope—to have someone closer to her age to talk to.” I caught her dart her eyes in my direction as she spoke.

“Perhaps for Christmas,” he offered.

“Perhaps,” Mom replied just as politely.

We were almost out the door when she asked me into the other room for a moment. I excused myself and followed her in, and she closed the door behind her.

“Listen to me: You have got to be a part of that girl’s life,” she said.

I folded my arms like an obstinate child. “She already has a mother, Mom. One who would probably get a restraining order on me if she could. And I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

“Don’t sit on the sidelines. You’re watching David get close to her without you and it’s tearing you up. Worse still, you’re not telling him because you’re afraid you’re going to lose him if you do. And I’m telling you to stop it right now before the very thing you fear comes true.”

I was astounded not only by her perception but also her clarity. This from the woman who had absolutely no advice for me when I first told her about Wylie! I recalled David telling me last year that he had experienced a similar transformation with his father. “Cancer gives you a lot of time to be still, and to think,” David had said. “And not the stupid stuff like doing the dishes or your next appointment, but the hard questions. You start to put the pieces together in those moments of stillness. You figure it all out.”

Mom added, “And if by ‘a lot on your plate’ you mean me, then you can cut that out as well. I will not be made the scapegoat for your poor decisions anymore.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but cut myself off. She was right.

She didn’t wait for me to respond. “Tell him, Andi. Tell him what you want and how you feel.”

“I’ve
tried
to tell him.”

“And?”

“And he says he wants me to be a part of it but he wants to keep Janine happy.”

“Tell him again, and tell him everything this time. Tell him about this asinine ultimatum. Tell him you won’t stand for it.”

“What, you want me to issue him an ultimatum of my own?”

“You’re on
his
side, remember? If you’re in it together, then there’s no need for ultimatums. But you’ve taken yourself out
of it. So I’m telling you to get back in. He needs you. And apparently his daughter needs you too; otherwise that mother of hers wouldn’t be playing dirty pool with you.”

“Since when do
you
tell people how you feel?” I didn’t meant this to be as cold and accusatory as it sounded. She didn’t seem to take it that way, however.

“Since I got cancer. It’s a sad reality, but there you go. It’s probably how the damn tumor grew in the first place, because I bottled everything in for sixty years.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“We’re talking about
you
, not me. And I’m telling you to talk to your husband-to-be, and get involved in that girl’s life. Take her out to lunch. Take her shopping. Do
something
.”

“I’m sure her mother’s going to love that,” I said, deadpan.

“David will deal with her.”

“Why is it so important to you that I have a relationship with Wylie?” I asked, more out of curiosity than argument. “I’ve never wanted children. Not even with Sam. And it never seemed to bother you that I didn’t. Never bothered me either.”

She paused for a beat. “Who’s going to take care of you when you get older?”

I was startled by the question. “David,” I said.

“And if he’s not around?”

I couldn’t bear the thought. “I’ll take care of myself,” I replied.

“And what if you can’t?”

“I thought you said we were talking about
me
,” I said. “Mom, I’m here. Joey and Tony and David and I are all here. And we’re not leaving you. We are never, ever going to leave you. We’ll be with you to the very last day.”

She shook her head sadly. “You don’t get it, Andrea.”

I searched for understanding. “What? What don’t I get?”

“I have no grandchildren. Is that your fate too? You need more. All of you.”

I didn’t respond because I didn’t know what to say. I still didn’t understand. More what?

Rather than explain, Mom gave in. “David’s waiting for you. I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“You too.” We briefly hugged good-bye, and David and I went back to the inn.

“Everything OK?” he asked in the car as we drove away.

“Dev, I need to know what role I’m going to play in Wylie’s life—and yours, for that matter. I need to know where I fit in. I don’t want to be some
stepmother
,” I said, the word reeking of condescension, “but I don’t want to be on the outside anymore, either. I want in. Now.”

“You were in before I was,” he said, disappointment ringing in his voice.

“Not anymore,” I replied. “We’ve got to work this out. All of it.”