The Milestone Tapes (7 page)

“Mia, why don’t you go wash your face and calm down. We’ll call you when dinner’s ready, okay?” Gabe suggested, picking Mia up and carrying her across the floor to her room.

“Fine. But I’m not eating any gross cobbler, I don’t care what Momma says,” Mia whined.

Jenna watched as Gabe carried her away, into her room and shut the door behind them. She felt the gag of tears building in her throat. She was angry, she could have handled Mia, she wouldn’t have given in or sent her away.

Gabe reemerged a moment later, laughing lightly as closed the door behind himself.

“What was that?” Jenna asked, opened mouth, stunned.

“That, was a six year old, Mia at her finest—I think she gets the dramatics from you,” Gabe replied easily, popping a fat blackberry into his mouth.

“When did that start?” Jenna wondered out loud.

Mia had always been so easy. So sweet and good-natured, never a cross word.

“Oh, maybe a couple of years ago. That doesn’t happen often, only every other day. Usually Ginny and I tag team her, whichever one she doesn’t hate is the one to take over.”

“She does that to Ginny?” Jenna was horrified.

“Sometimes. She handles it better than I do. She ignores it, lets Mia burn herself out.”

“That’s awful!” Jenna put both hands on the counter, steadying herself.

“She’s a six year old, Jenna. You can’t take it seriously. It’s like a storm, comes in quick, blows over fast.”

“I should go talk to her—she can’t be that way, so angry and nasty over nothing. It’s not right.” Jenna still couldn’t believe it.

“Give her a few minutes. Finish dessert and then go in, she’ll be calmed down.” Gabe sighed and wandered back to his office.

Jenna finished making the cobbler dough and put together the pretty dessert, placing it in the warm oven.

“Mia?” Jenna knocked softly on the door to her room before pushing it aside.

Mia was sprawled across the bed, a blanket tucked up under her chin. Her eyes were sore and raw from the crying gag, but softened and calm.

“Honey? Can we talk for a minute?” Jenna crossed the distance and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

Mia pulled herself up to a sitting position and nodded slightly.

“Mia, I’m sorry if you were upset by something I said or did this evening. But, Mia, words have a lot of power, they can make people feel things—good things and bad.” Jenna searched for the words. “When you say you hate someone, even if you don’t mean it, even if you’re just saying it because you’re angry, it’s not right.”

“Momma—” Mia began, but Jenna held up her hand so she could continue.

“Hate, it isn’t a good thing. It doesn’t hurt the other person, Mia, it hurts you. You’re a little girl, so things like hate and angry are almost the same ... but when you say them to someone else, they mean a lot more.” Jenna rubbed her open palm against Mia’s back.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Mia whispered, leaning into Jenna.

“Mia, I know you’re sorry—but you need to promise me, you’re going to think about the things you say,” Jenna cautioned.

“Okay,” Mia agreed nodding her head.

“Promise me,” Jenna repeated.

“I promise,” Mia grinned.

“Okay, good. Daddy ordered dinner and I could use some help setting the table, feel like coming out of your room?” Jenna pulled Mia into a tight hug.

“Sure,” Mia nodded and crawled off the bed.

“Oh, and Mia, one more thing. Try everything once. Sometimes being open to new things, like different foods, might surprise you,” Jenna added carefully, placing her hand on Mia’s head steering her out of the room.

Dinner that night was easy. Jenna had called ahead and booked a room at the ocean resort on First Beach. Gabe had cleared Friday and they agreed Mia could play hooky for an early start.

“Do you think you’ll be up for the hike, hon?” Gabe asked, forking more salad onto his plate.

“Probably,” Jenna replied between bites of her pizza, wiping her mouth. “I can try it. Maybe just to Ellen Creek.” She passed Mia another slice.

“I don’t want you over doing it,” Gabe cautioned, reaching across the table for the dressing.

“I’ll be okay. We haven’t been out there in forever, I’m excited.”

“What’s Rialto Beach like?” Mia asked, chewing loudly on a bite.

“It’s beautiful.” Jenna smiled, picturing the way it used to look.

“Can I bring a bathing suit?”

“It’s not a swimming beach, kiddo,” Gabe answered. “The waves are way too dangerous.”

“Oh.” Mia shrugged, reaching for her glass of milk.

“We’ll have fun, swimming or not.” Jenna tousled Mia’s hair lightly and gathered her plate and headed towards the sink. “So, we’ll leave early tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, it’s a good two hours to the coast, so the earlier to better.”

“I’ll finish packing tonight so we can get on the road first thing.” Jenna pulled the bubbling cobbler from the oven and set it on the waiting hot pad. The crust was a glittery golden brown of melted sugar, and bubbles of blackberry juice peaked out along the edges of the stoneware plate. The smell of warm fruit and cinnamon wafted across the room.

“Anyone want cobbler?” Jenna asked, peeking into the freezer and pulling out a tub of vanilla ice cream.

“I do,” Gabe yawned loudly, sliding his dinner plate to the side.

“I’ll try some.” Mia followed Gabe’s lead, moving her plate a little to the left.

“Good girl Mia.” Jenna heaped the hot dessert into two bowls, plopping large scoops of ice cream on top.

“Thanks, babe,” Gabe patted her bottom as she placed the bowl in front of him, digging right in.

“Mia, if you don’t like it—you don’t have to eat it,” Jenna reminded Mia, placing hers on the Disney placemat.

Mia took a small, timid bit, her eyes lit up as the flavors hit her tongue. “That’s good Momma.” Mia dove in for another bit, licking the spoon in earnest.

“Your Grandma used to make this for Aunt Sophia and me when we were little girls. It was always my favorite. We had a blackberry bush behind our house, so in the summer we’d pick berries all day and at night we’d feast.” Jenna settled back into her seat with a bowl.

“I never met Grandma Elizabeth, right?” Mia asked, fishing around a lump of melted ice cream.

“No, baby, you didn’t. She died before you were born, but she would have loved you. You look a lot like her.” Jenna took a small bite of her cobbler, thinking about her mother and how true that was. Elizabeth would have adored Mia.

“Was she sick like you?” Mia asked innocently.

“Yes, she was.” Jenna didn’t know what else to say, how to elaborate on that. They both had the same cancer.

“Are you gonna die, too?” Mia asked, pressing further, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Finish your dessert Mia,” Gabe interjected, flashing Jenna a loaded glance.

Jenna didn’t know how to do this. She didn’t know if telling Mia now was the right thing, the good thing. She didn’t know if Mia would understand the concept of time, that she was dying right now, but eventually. It felt too heavy a burden to for a child to balance or even understand.

“So, Mia, have you given any thought to what you want to do this summer?” Jenna changed the subject softly.

“Sarah is going to summer camp.” Mia’s eyes brightened and a little smile pulled the corner of her lips.

“Would you like to go to camp?” Jenna asked, wondering what this camp involved and all the practicalities of it.

“Can I?” Her smile bloomed, and her eyes grew wide with excitement.

“I would have to look into it, but sure, I don’t see why not.” Jenna leaned back in her chair.

“It’s not sleep away camp, Momma. And it’s just for girls. Sarah said they make friendship bracelets and stuff with clay, and they go swimming at the YMCA and learn about animals. She went last year and her sister is a counselor.”

“That sounds like lots of fun. I’ll call Sarah’s Mom on Monday and find out where she’s going. If they still have room, I’ll sign you up.” Jenna nodded, smiling back at Mia from across the table.

Camp would be good, Jenna decided. Mornings of play, crafts, secret handshakes and easy laughter, it would be perfect. Jenna could run errands and make her plans without feeling guilty for dragging Mia along. Afternoons could be spent snuggled together on the couch, dozing away the tiresome morning routine.

“Alright, Mia, time for bed.” Gabe stood up, pushing his chair back noisily against the floor. He gathered bowls and dishes in his hand and dropped them loudly into the sink.

“Can Mama read me my story tonight?” Mia turned to Jenna who was gathering the place mats.

“Sure I can,” Jenna smiled.

“The Giving Tree?” Mia suggested, carrying her plate to sink carefully.

“Sure. Go get into your pajamas, brush your teeth, and climb into bed, I’ll be right behind you.”

Mia ran towards her room, and Jenna stood by the sink watching her go.

“Camp?” Gabe asked, breaking her thoughts.

“Yeah, you know, it would be good for her. A change of pace. She’s a kid, kids go to summer camp.” Jenna brushed his shoulder with her hand lightly and walked off towards the laundry room.

~ * * * ~

“There once was a tree, and she loved a little boy ... ” Jenna began. Mia was tucked in tight, curled beneath the layers of bedding as her sleepy eyes fought to stay awake.

The house was clean and calm. Gabe had retired back to work, making up for the hours he’d miss tomorrow. The washing machine thrummed in the distance, turning around the dirty wears of the day. Mia’s camping clothes were folded neatly on her desk chair, ready to be tucked into the suitcase.

Mia yawned loudly and rolled over. Jenna ran her fingers over the length of her back softly, through her silky curls and her bare arms, lulling her to sleep with ease as she read the familiar words from the pages.

“Well, I’m an old stump, good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down and rest. And the boy did. And the tree was happy.”

Jenna closed the book and snapped the light beside Mia’s bed off. A stifled sigh slipped past her lips, which were slack and parted with sleep.

“I love you my Mia,” Jenna whispered, leaning over to kiss Mia’s plump cheek.

~ * * * ~

The following morning crested beautiful and warm. The sun shone down on their little bit of land and Gabe mumbled about hoping the weather windfall would last all the way to the coast.

“Goodbye House!” Mia squealed, launching herself into the back of Jenna’s Range Rover and settling into her seat.

They drove along the swooping road towards Rialto, taking the 101 until it dropped them on Mora Road. They followed the winding avenues of the reservation towards the wild coastline.

“Momma?” Mia chirped from the back, pushing her finger against the glass of the sidewindow, “what’s that?”

“That’s a buoy totem pole,” Jenna explained, launching into the magical traditions of the Quileute people and how the people here lived off the land. They were fishermen, out in the wilds of the Pacific Ocean, and sometimes they would collect treasures as testimony to their time carving their stories into massive pillars of wood.

The gravel lot hadn’t changed, that much gave Jenna a sense of comfort, time doesn’t change everything. The towers trees gave way to a stretch of water wash rocks, pebbles and black granite sand, littered with blanched driftwood.

“Wow.” Mia scaled a log and stood close to Gabe, taking it all in.

“Now, Mia,” Gabe cautioned, “this is a dangerous beach. You stay with Momma and me at all times. You can collect shells if you find any, but you are not to run ahead. If you do get too close, and the water touches you, stand still—do not move an inch.”

“Okay.” Mia bobbed her head in agreement, entranced, watching the salty grey waves batter the shore, violent and beautiful.

Jenna pulled out her camera, snapping photos of Mia atop Gabe’s shoulder standing beside a fallen tree as wide and tall as a house. Mia dipped her fingers in the sea foam that trailed the waves left behind, the soapy bubbles iridescent under the spring sun. They slowly walked towards Ellen Creek, gulls swooping and screaming in delight against the blue sky.

“Momma, look!” Mia cried suddenly, slipping her hand from Jenna and charging forward.

“Mia, wait!” Jenna ran after her, stumbling over the uneven ground, losing her footing and catching herself. The effort burned her lungs and her legs protested in vain.

“What’s that?” Mia screamed into the wind that whipped against her light jacket, throwing her hair backwards.

Nestled amongst a patch of overgrown sea grass sat a frosted turquoise ball swaddled in a thick brown rope.

“Mia! Don’t you dare do that—Oh my God, Gabe ... she found a glass float!” Jenna called back breathlessly, sinking to her knees beside her daughter.

“What’s this, Momma?” Mia asked again, handing the ball to Jenna.