Water from Stone - a Novel (37 page)

One-Hundred-Five

Mar.

The days pass too quickly. Mar has been given one week to prepare Lizzie for the dramatic turn her life is taking. One week during which she will live with Mar, but spend time with Jack and DeJon each day. Lizzie, for her part, becomes extremely clingy and withdrawn. She doesn’t know what is going on, but she senses it isn’t good.

Mar refuses any additional medication to calm her because she doesn’t want to be too zoned out to miss any of her last moments with her daughter. Hence, she feels the horror in every minute of every day. The two hours Lizzie is away each afternoon are but a small glimpse of the awful eternity that awaits her. During one of those times, Mar asks Shirley and Dylan to come over to meet with her.

“Oh, baby, I am so, so sorry, honey,” Shirley hugs Mar and holds her while they both cry. Dylan does what he does and rubs her back, finally gives in and envelopes both women in his long-armed embrace.

Later, settled in the family room, Mar tells them what is on her mind, “I know I’m putting an awful burden on you guys, and I’m sorry, but you’re the two smartest people I know, and I trust your opinions. The thing is, I need to know what you think, but I don’t want you telling me what you think I want to hear. I want you telling me what you really, really think is best for Lizzie, without thinking about my feelings.”

“Oh, baby, what’s best is for her to stay with you. We know that, everyone knows that, even Jack knows that.”

“That’s not what I mean, Shirl. I mean, Jack has offered me visitation, said I can come out any time I want, to see her. What I want to know, is if that’s a good thing for Lizzie?” Mar starts crying again, “I know that’s what I want. I want to see her all the time. I’m even willing to move to New York, if it means I can see her. But I need to know if that would only confuse her more. She’s going to freak when he takes her away. Should I just let her have a clean break and start her new life there, or should I try to be a part of it every now and then?”

“Oh, Mar. Oh, man.” Shirley shakes her head, not wanting this.

Dylan takes off his ever-present bandana and shakes out his long curls, begins rubbing his head as if it hurts.

Shirley finally speaks, “Before we go there, Mar, tell us. Have you decided to appeal?”

Mar looks down at the wad of torn Kleenex in her hands, finds a corner and begins to shred anew. “No,” she shakes her head, “I’m not. The adoption rights people are saying I have no balls, that I should force it, but that’s because they want me to be their poster child. I can’t. I mean, I know what Jack said in court, but give him one week with her, and he’s not going to be able to give her up. He won’t, and it’s like McClaine said, he has every legal right to her. His rights precede mine. So, what? She gets all settled in with him and then I turn around, make a huge fuss? Drag her through this again? And what if I win the second time, which would take a visitation from God, or at least Jesus and the entire Bible cast to accomplish, but what if I do win and then she’s settled and I rip her back here? It’d be back and forth and back and forth…No, I don’t think that’s good for her.”

“Divorced people do it all the time, sugar.”

“I know, but that’s not what this is. Divorce kids know this is the way it is. This week you’re with Mommy, next with Daddy, whatever. They have their rooms in two different places, have a schedule, stability, consistency within that schedule. We’d be like telling her you’re here and then, boom, she wouldn’t be anymore. Then, she’d be there and, boom again, she’s not there anymore. There’s not, like, any schedule or meaning that she can follow. I need to know what’s best for her and I trust you guys to tell me the truth.”

Shirley looks at her husband, her eyes begging him to be the bad guy.

“Mar, I’m sorry,” Dylan says. “You know, psychology is a very imperfect science.”

“I know, Dylan. Just tell me. Please.”

“Well, studies have shown, and this information comes from a lot of studies. Divorce, cases when kids have had to face the long-term illness of a parent, foster kids that are moved around from home to home, things like that. Well, it seems that dragging it out puts a helluva lot of stress on the child. Kids are resilient. They can deal with just about anything. I’m not saying that Lizzie’s not going to miss you. This is going to hurt like hell. Eventually, though, most kids, if they were put into Lizzie’s position, would come to terms with it, find some emotional ground again on which to stand. It would be, and forgive me for putting it this way, as if you’d suddenly died. She’d find her way again and, hopefully, stability. On the other hand, kids that are moved around a lot, who are never able to develop a sense of trust in their surroundings, in their lives, well, they don’t seem to do as well socially, emotionally, or even academically.”

Mar nods. “That’s what I thought. I guess that’s why the judge gave Jack full custody rather than having us share her.”

“I know it seems harsh, but he really was trying to look out for Lizzie’s best interests. Considering.”

“But, Mar, you have to understand that I’m not fully comfortable making that assessment with Lizzie. Personally, I believe that her first abandonment, if you want to call it that, when that woman who had kidnapped her died, well, I believe that she remembers that on some level. She only learned to trust life again with you. She’s an extremely sensitive child, and I’m afraid that her feeling of being twice abandoned, this time by someone she fully trusts, won’t be very good for her. I don’t see her easily settling down into a different life.”

“But, Dylan, you’re saying two different things! On the one hand, I should stay out of her life, on the other, I should stay in it. What am I supposed to do?”

“Mar, honey, you’re going to have to make up your own mind on that. Baby, I’m sorry,” Shirley says.

“No, please, tell me what to do! Please!”

Dylan speaks up. “Mar, she’s going to be angry at you. At her age, she’ll be very, very angry. She’ll feel that you left her and won’t understand that it wasn’t voluntary. If you don’t see her, most likely she’ll be able to come to some closure, just as when a parent dies. If you continue to see her, she’ll probably begin to act out, first against you, and then against the world. She won’t understand why you keep leaving her over and over.”

“You’re saying I should just let her go.”

“I’m sorry, Mar, but that’s what I believe is best for her. Shirley doesn’t fully agree,” he shrugs, “but, there it is.”

“Contrary to what McClaine said, I can’t separate what I think is best for her from my feelings for her,” Shirley explains. “Even though my experience says otherwise, I can’t think of not having her around. Of her not being with you.”

One-Hundred-Six

Mar.

The day of separation comes too quickly. Way too quickly. If possible, Mar has lost even more weight in the past week. While she’d been unable to eat or sleep, she had made a valiant effort to be cheerful for Lizzie, aware that she was creating the last memories her daughter would have of her. For all her efforts, she must not have carried it off overly well as Lizzie has been fussy all morning and has, herself, refused to eat.

“But why can’t you come on the trip, Mommy?” Lizzie asks for the umpteenth time that week.

“Because, baby, it’s a special trip, just for you.”

“But I don’t wanna go on a trip! I wanna stay with you.” Lizzie is truly upset and has been working herself into a mighty tantrum all the way to the airport. Not only has she sensed the somber mood in the house that morning, but the mob of reporters camped out on the front lawn had terrified her. Reporters had banged on the windows to get her attention and flash bulbs had blinded her.

“I know you do, honey. I want you to stay with me. Don’t forget that, OK? Don’t ever forget that Mommy loves you more than anything, more than life itself, OK? You’re my most important important.” Mar bends toward Lizzie, whispering urgently into her ear, smelling her special smell for the last few minutes and dying inside. She isn’t going to be able to hold on much longer.

“We’re here, Mar,” her father says, as he pulls up to the gatehouse of the private landing strip. For security’s sake, and to protect Lizzie from over-exposure to the press, Jack has hired a private jet to take them back to New York. That morning, Stan and Amanda had taken Lizzie’s belongings with them, and these are now stowed safely on board. All that is missing is Lizzie.

Mar begins to cry. She can’t help it. No matter that she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, for Lizzie’s sake, she can’t help it. “Oh, god, no. Please, Daddy, turn around. Please,” she cries.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I can’t.”

“Please, Daddy, please. I can’t do this. Just turn around.”

Don Bloom clenches the steering wheel, his knuckles white. “I’m sorry, baby.” He pulls up to the waiting jet and turns off the ignition.

They sit there like that, with the engine off, while Mar cries in the back seat and Don cries in the front. Lizzie, terrified, begins to wail and that finally gives the adults the impetus to try to bring their own emotions under control.

Amanda is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, Stan beside her, his arm supporting her. Strangely, while Lizzie will continue in their own lives, they are so very sad at the way things have turned out. Amanda wipes her eyes and smiles bravely at Lizzie, who refuses to come out of hiding in her mother’s neck. “Hi, there, sweetheart,” she says, rubbing Lizzie’s back. “Do you see the big plane we got for you? Have you ever been on a plane? Well, this one’s especially for you.”

Lizzie just digs in deeper.

“Lizzie, honey, it’s OK,” Mar urges her, lies to her for the first and last time. “It’s going to be OK, baby. Now, say bye-bye to Grampo. Come on, baby, say bye-bye.”

“Don’t want to, don’t want to, don’t want to!” Lizzie screams and begins hitting Mar, kicking her, not understanding why her mother is making her go away. “I don’t want to, Mommy, I don’t want to. I wanna stay with you!”

“I know, baby, but you can’t. You’ve got to go on this beautiful plane that Daddy got for you. See? You’ll have so much fun on it, it’ll be just for you and you can order whatever food or drinks you want and I think they even have a TV on it and you’ll be able to see a movie. And DeJon’s up there waiting to play with you. Now, baby, give Mommy a hug. Come on, sugar, give me a big, fat, big girl hug and go to Mandy. She’s going to take you up to the plane so you can meet the Captain. I think he’s even got wings for you.”

“Only angels got wings.”

“OK, but he’s got some special ones for you that you can pin on your shirt. Very special ones because this is your first plane trip. Now, give me a hug, our special hug and go to Mandy, honey. She’s waiting.”

Soothed by her mother’s assurances, Lizzie allows herself to be transferred to Amanda.

“There now, honey, let’s go up.” Amanda gives Mar one last, long look.

“Go, please,” Mar whispers to her, not sure she can hang on any longer to the fake smile plastered on her face.

Stan pats her shoulder, shakes hands with Don and smiles sadly at Mar before he follows his wife up the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, Mar begins to shake but she stands there bravely, not sure if Lizzie is looking out the window at her. Then, suddenly, just as the attendant begins to close the door, Jack bursts out of it and hurries down the stairs. He comes up to her. “Mar,” he begins.

Mar reaches back and with all the strength in her body, she smacks him. “You bastard!” she hisses. “You got what you wanted. There, now you’ve got my daughter.”

Jack has his hand to his face. “Mar, god, I’m sorry. It’s not what I wanted.”

“Listen, you fucked up piece of shit, get the hell out of my face. Do you hear me? Go take care of my daughter, but let me tell you one thing. If I ever hear that she’s not happy, if you ever do even one small thing to make that little girl unhappy, I swear I’ll hunt you down. Now, get the hell out of here.”

“Mar,” he tries again.

“Jack,” Don speaks up as he cradles his weeping daughter in his arms, “I’m not one for violence, son, but I’m telling you, if you don’t get the hell away from my daughter, I’m going to have to kick the living shit out of you myself.”

Jack looks helplessly at Mar, then turns and returns slowly to the plane.

Almost before she can think, the plane is a speck in the sky. Eight, Mar begins counting the minutes away from Lizzie. Nine.

One-Hundred-Seven

Mar.

For the first two days, Mar glides. Just sits in Lizzie’s room and glides among the abandoned furniture, clutching the one teddy bear she’s kept for herself. Tries desperately to smell her daughter on it. As she glides, she watches the sharks. Her mind has become convinced the dolphins painted on the wall are sharks. Mar glides and watches them. If she thinks anything at all, it is,
bring it on
.

Sometime around the three-thousand-twenty-fifth minute without Lizzie, Mar decides to move to the little girl’s bed, to try to fall asleep forever. She lies down, exhausted beyond reason, not caring that The Dream will start up if she allows herself to do anything but doze fitfully.

Mar melts into the bed, stretches out, eyes closed, thinks if she only tries hard enough, she can will Lizzie to be back here, to be in her arms. Unable to fight it anymore, she begins to sink into sleep and, in doing so, curls her hand beneath the pillow. It isn’t a conscious thought that wakes her, more like a hazy urging that winds itself through her tired mind. But, suddenly, there it is, and, grasping under the pillow, Mar comes fully awake. In her hand, she holds Boosie. Lizzie has not slept without her blanket in almost five years. Mar is out the door in a flash.

***

Somewhere over the Midwest, it occurs to Mar that she should have left a note for her father. She knows he’ll be terrified when he returns from his walk with Picasso and finds her gone. He’s been so worried that she’ll do something drastic that he’s practically set up vigil outside of Lizzie’s room. Mar digs out her credit card and uses the telephone in the back of the seat in front of her to call him.