A Slight Change of Plan (25 page)

“You don’t have to be, you know?”

“No?” I tried to keep my voice light, but my stomach suddenly knotted.

“Listen, you and I had a good thing going. Do you want to try to pick up where we left off?”

“No.” The word was out of my mouth so fast, I shocked myself.

Jake looked pretty shocked, too. “I thought…” He looked out over the lake. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought,” he mumbled.

“Jake? Listen to me. Sitting here with you, I feel twenty-one again. But I’m not. I’m a very different person than I was back then. For one thing, I got my heart trampled by a man I loved more than anything else in the world, the man I trusted and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with.”

He was quiet for a really long time. I just sat back, sipping hard cider, watching his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was not quite steady.

“There hasn’t been a day in the past thirty years I haven’t thought about you, Kate. Even when I had convinced myself I was in love with Jill, and that she would do everything for me that you couldn’t, that she could help me in my career
the way you couldn’t, I still would find myself thinking about you. I knew I’d lost you. I knew that I had betrayed you in the worst way possible, but I never stopped wondering about you. I am so sorry.”

Okay—I was almost crying. I’ll admit it. All the years that could have been flashed before my eyes like they never had before. But halfway through the vision of Jake and I spending our twenty-fifth anniversary on top of the Empire State Building, I stopped myself. If I had married Jake, I never would have had the three amazing kids I had right now. Maybe I would have three other amazing kids, but—seriously—the only possible combination for someone as terrific as Jeff or as independent as Regan or as brilliant as Sam was Adam and me.

“How would you feel,” I finally asked him, “about starting all over again? Like we never knew each other before?”

He looked at me. Then he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “So, I couldn’t suggest to you that we take the boat back and have sweaty ‘Do we still have it?’ sex on the dock?”

I kept my face pretty straight, considering that was exactly what I had been thinking. “No. And I’m not quite as easy as I was back then. You can’t get me naked by waving a slice of pizza under my nose.”

“Damn,” he said. “There goes plan B.”

“This particular phase of my life, the one where all my problems were supposed to have gone away and I was going to relax and be selfish about enjoying myself, is not exactly working out as planned. In fact, it’s become more complicated than I could ever imagine. But once I’ve found a place for my mother to live, and Sam and Alisa find a place to live, and Regan is married, things should calm down. But until
then, if you want to call me next week and ask me out to dinner, I will try to make time. What do you think?”

He leaned over and, very carefully, kissed me on the lips. “I think that’s a great plan.”

I stopped breathing. His eyes were so close and had that same little spark in them that used to make me crazy. Start over? Was I insane? Good old-fashioned horniness came rushing in so fast and so hard I practically had to jump out of the boat.

But I was strong. I was cool. I did not rip off any clothing.

I did have to clear my throat. But just a little.

“It’s a date.”

He dropped me home right before six o’clock. I did not invite him in. My house was cool and quiet. Boone jumped off the couch to say hello as I walked in. Seven saw me, but chose to ignore. There was no background noise of the television downstairs, which I suddenly realized had been filling the house for the last few days.

I went downstairs.

Mom must have figured out about the drapes, because they were closed and everything was dark. The television had been left on after all, just muted. I turned it off and looked around.

Mom had unpacked every single thing we’d brought from her house. Someone must have helped her, because I couldn’t imagine her emptying everything and putting it all away so quickly. There were magazines covering her dresser, the coffee table, and stacked on a pile by the love seat. The small round dining table had been replaced with a large folding table that jutted into the room, and it was covered
with mail. The cabinet I had bought for the microwave had open shelves on top, and those shelves were now full of boxes of tea, five different cookies and crackers, and several cans of peaches.

I heard the sound of the garage door opener. My five minutes of peace and quiet were gone.

Mom came in from the garage, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with a pink kitten face on it. Laura was right behind her. Bobby brought up the rear.

Mom ignored me and went straight into the bathroom. Laura slumped on her crutches. And glared at me.

“You’d better have had a really good time.”

I nodded and kissed her cheek. “Yes. Thank you. Who bought all the food?”

Laura shrugged and sank into the love seat. “I think she sent Sam out early this morning. We brought in the table and I spent until lunchtime with her. Then Bobby picked us up, and we were at my house for the rest of the day. Our mother is a pain in the ass.”

“I know.”

Mom emerged, made her way to the recliner, and began groping for the remote.

“Have a good day?” I asked.

“Where were you since early this morning?” Her eyes were on the TV screen.

“I spent the day with Jake Windom. Remember him? My college boyfriend? I brought him home one Christmas.”

“Isn’t he the one who dumped you?”

“Why, yes, Mom. He is.”

“Then what the hell are you doing with him again? You know what they say—insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“You’re probably right there, Mom, but we already know that I’m crazy. After all, I’ve been calling you up once a month for years, expecting you to talk to me instead of just hanging up.”

“Exactly. He’s going to do it all over again. Better get yourself a job quick, because you’re going to need to bury your broken heart in something worthwhile.”

I looked at Laura and went upstairs.

I took a shower and washed the coconut scent of sunblock off my skin. I slipped into a sleeveless linen dress, poured a huge glass of wine, and sat on the deck with the bottle and Boone until it was quite dark. Laura left at some point. I knew that Sam and Alisa were back from wherever, because the lights came on. But I sipped my wine alone, thinking about Cheryl and how she made the move from alcohol to pot.

I wasn’t that bad.

Not yet, anyway.

The next morning, the phone company guy showed up to run a separate line for my mother downstairs. I then spent a great deal of time on the phone after that, disconnecting her phone in south Jersey, making sure the calls would be forwarded, and trying to convince her provider that she really didn’t need cable anymore. Then I went downstairs and explained everything to Mom, giving her the new number, and telling her that if she wanted, she could call her friends
and tell them about her move, and make sure they all knew how to get in touch with her now.

She scowled through my entire explanation.

“You disconnected my phone?”

“Yes, but anyone who tries to call you there will get redirected here. For the next thirty days.”

“What happens on day thirty-one?”

“Well, hopefully, anyone who’d want to call you would have your new number by then.”

“How would they get the new number?”

“You’d give it to them.”

“How?”

“When they call you, Mom.”

“But what if they don’t call me?”

“Then you can call them.”

“How will I know who to call? I don’t know anybody’s phone number.”

“How did you call people before?”

“I had everything programmed into the speed dial on my phone.”

“I thought you had your address book.”

“I do. But that has addresses, not phone numbers.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me to bring your old phone with us when we were at your house?”

“Kate, I would have expected, at your age, that you’d be able to do a little thinking on your own.”

“Grilled fish and wild rice for dinner?”

“Whatever.”

I’d been spending mornings at the pool. If Alisa wasn’t working, she’d come with me. We’d swim laps. She dove
in the deep end and swam strongly, often going five or six lengths before coming out and lying in the sun. I tended to stay closer to the shallow end, and paddled back and forth across the shorter width, often treading water or stopping to chat with my fellow bathers. Then I, too, would stretch out in the sun.

When I told my mother that I’d be at the pool for a while, and asked whether she needed anything before I left, she fixed a cold, hard eye on me.

“What if I fall again?”

“Mom, you’ve been here for a few days, and I think you’ll be okay for an hour or two.”

“Then why the hell did you bring me all the way up here in the first place?”

“Would you feel better if I didn’t leave you alone?”

“I’d feel better if you brought me back to my own house.”

“That’s not going to happen, Laura is trying to find you an assisted living place around here.”

“I don’t need any assistance, thank you very much.”

“What if you fell again?”

“Why don’t you go to the pool?”

“Good idea. I’ll be back in an hour. If anything dire happens, call 911.”

I went to the pool, paddled around, and watched the water aerobics class. There was a bunch of smiling ladies, all my mother’s age, bobbing up and down. Would it be possible to get my mother into the pool with them? Probably not. But this was the same group of ladies who sat in the clubhouse every afternoon, sipping iced tea and playing something—cards? Mah-jongg? Whatever it was, it didn’t look too stressful. And Marie often joined them. I might have an in.

I stopped at Marie’s on my way home, declined her invitation for iced tea, cookies, and/or lunch, and explained the mother situation.

Marie took a deep breath. “It sounds like you and your mother are not on the best of terms.”

“We’re barely on the worst of terms. But she could be here a while, and I want her to do more than sit and watch television all day.”

“Did you ask her if
she
wanted to do more than watch television all day?”

“No, Marie, but social isolation isn’t good. I know that. There are studies. She needs to get back out in the world.”

“Why don’t I come over this afternoon? We can just chat.”

“Perfect. Thank you so much.”

When I brought down Mom’s lunch, I told her about Marie, and that she’d be coming by to say hello.

“Why would she want to come over here?”

“Marie and I are neighbors. She’s been over before. When I told her about you staying here, she thought she’d be nice and introduce herself.”

“What’s the point? You’ll be shipping me out of here as soon as you find someplace to put me.”

“The point is that you’re going to be here for a while, and you might as well enjoy yourself. Marie and some of the other ladies here play cards together. You used to be a killer canasta player.”

“I’m still a killer canasta player.”

“Great to hear. And I’m not looking to ‘ship you off,’ Mom. You need to have a place to live.”

“I already have a perfectly good place to live.”

“You should be closer to Laura and me.”

“So you keep saying. Your damn cat is trying to eat my sandwich. Don’t you feed these animals?”

I scooped up Eight and went upstairs.

Marie came over later as promised. She came up after about an hour and asked if they could have some iced tea. I put some things on a tray and she took them down. There was laughter. Actual squeals of delight. Marie finally came back up with an empty tray and a big smile.

“Kate, your mother will be joining us poolside this evening for cards. I know you’ll have to drive her over. About seven?”

“Marie, you’re a wonder.”

She took my hand and patted it gently. “Can I tell you how much I like Rose? I imagine she can be a complete terror, but she’s also bright and lovely and great company. I think she’ll do fine with the rest of us.”

I was speechless, of course, so I just nodded.

At ten minutes to seven, I walked Mom out to the car and drove her the four blocks to the clubhouse. Luckily, there were no stairs, and she only had to stop twice. Marie and the other ladies had been there for a while, and they all had wineglasses in front of them and big smiles on their faces.

Marie took over. “Rose, welcome. They don’t serve wine here, but they don’t mind if we bring our own. I’ve got an extra glass. Let me introduce you.” She turned to me. “Vivian here drove as well, so your mom has a ride home. Don’t wait up.”

I kissed my mother on her cheek. “Don’t let them get you into trouble, Mom.”

She actually smiled.

MaryJo’s birthday was that Tuesday. I’d been calling my ex-roommate on her birthday for over thirty years. If I didn’t call her, she’d immediately know that I had been in touch with Jake and was afraid to call her because she’d yell at me. If I did call her, she’d immediately ask if I’d been in touch with Jake, and she’d yell at me.