All That's True (21 page)

My mother and Dr. Armstrong pick me up at the airport. He is driving a convertible that has a cute little seat in back barely big enough to hold me. The car is bright red and he has the top down. My mother’s hair looks like a bird’s nest. Soon my own hair is sailing behind me like a flag flying in the wind. But who cares? It’s totally exhilarating. I want to call out, “Faster, faster.”

Dr. Armstrong’s wife died of cancer when his children were still at home. My mother says it’s when he started drinking and almost lost his practice.

“Is that when he joined AA?” I ask.

My mother nods her head. “It saved his life.”

Not to mention those of his children. He has three. They’re all grown. Two boys and one girl. They came over last weekend so we could all get acquainted. Still, my mother insists it’s nothing. She is not getting serious.

“He’s moving a bit too fast,” she insists. “I’m going to have to let him know I’m not interested in a relationship at this time.”

If this is the case, she better get busy and tell him. He acts like they’re going together. He’s always draping his arm around her shoulder. Then he winks and smiles like they have a special secret. Maybe they do. Maybe they’re sleeping together even though my mother insists she’s not interested in pursuing a relationship. Maybe it’s just a sex thing for her. After all, they’re grown-ups, so that’s to be expected, the sex part. So much has changed—my father marrying Donna, Bridget living in another state, Henry dead, Beth happy and busy with law school, my mother maybe having a lover. Life just keeps sending curve balls with no warning.

My mother has a few curve balls of her own. She’s decided not to go to the south of France with Vivian. “I need to concentrate on my program,” she says.

Dr. Armstrong slows down for a bend in the road. He turns around and yells, “You doing okay, Andi?” What little hair he has on top is zigzagging in the wind.

He’s a very nice man. I think about him being left to care for his children when his wife died from cancer. No wonder he started drinking. There’s a girl, Libby, at school whose mother has some kind of terminal illness. She’s in my gym class and overnight she’s changed from being happy-go-lucky to being so sad it hurts to look at her face. Mr. Larsen, the gym teacher tries to be extra nice to her. He gives her lots of help on the parallel bars and pats her back a lot. Mr. Larson wears baggie cardigans and puts his hand in his pockets a lot so the pockets are all stretched out and they look like they still have his hands tucked in them, even when his hands are actually by his side. He calls everyone kiddo. When Libby misses the ball three times during volleyball he says, “Listen, kiddo, come up under the ball. Go up to meet it. And then go up under it. Okay, kiddo?”

You really can’t be mad at that, when a teacher calls you kiddo when he’s correcting you.

But I can be plenty mad at my father. He’s turned all of our lives upside down. He’s coming over tonight to pick me up. He has something important he wants to tell me. Maybe he and Donna eloped. Maybe they’re not going to Mallorca after all, which would be fine with me. I don’t really want to go anyway.

I’m watching out the window and spot his car as it pulls into the driveway. Donna is in the passenger seat. My father toots and I grab my sweater. Most likely he’ll head to a restaurant and some of them have the air conditioner on too low. It’s like standing in a grocery store in front of the frozen foods.

My father waves and grins and gets out and opens the door to the back seat. I climb in and nod at Donna.

“Hello, Andi,” she says. “How was your trip?”

We spend a few minutes going over the details and then my father clears his throat and says, “How about we head over to Chopstix?”

What did I tell you?—another restaurant. But it’s okay with me. They didn’t serve lunch on the plane except in first class and I’m hungry.

Chopstix is an upscale Chinese restaurant. Inside, the walls are lined with mirrors and there are these velvet banquette benches all along the walls with fancy table settings placed in front of them, sort of what you’d expect in New York. And the food is good, too. A little fancy, but very tasty.

Once we’re seated and the waiter has taken our order my father gets a very serious look on his face. Here it comes. He’s going to tell me to say hello to my new stepmother.

“Andi,” he says and folds his hands in front of him and leans them against his dinner plate. Donna sits quietly by. She has a half-smile on her face. The kind when you want to look friendly, but not silly. She’s wearing a black pantsuit that has a square neckline. It’s very attractive on her. It looks like something Audrey Hepburn would have worn. Bridget and I watched her biography on television the last night of my visit, while Ashley and the boys went to bed. Donna’s wearing a strand of pearls. Definitely an Audrey Hepburn look. I bet my father gave those to her. He was always big on pearls when it came to my mother.

I look up at my father and wait to hear whatever he has to say. Not that I’m anxious to hear it. Lately, whatever he has to say has been bad news for me. And I notice he seems very nervous which is making me even more nervous. Maybe this is not about them being married at all. Maybe he has a terminal disease. A lump gathers in my throat. I realize that no matter what he’s done with Donna, I still love him and want him around.

“Andi,” he says again.

“What is it?” I lean in closer to the table.

And then he just blurts it out.

“Donna and I are going to have a baby. We’re going to be married in a private ceremony this Saturday.” He sits quietly, waiting for my reaction.

I don’t have one. I’m in shock. My shoulders slump. I hadn’t counted on this and I don’t know what to think. Mostly I think I’m mad. I’m breathing deeply and there’s a familiar anger gathering in my chest like when Alex died. The kind of anger where you know you can’t do anything about it and you want to and you want to blame someone but you don’t know who to blame, except this time I do know. I blame my father. Donna didn’t get pregnant all by herself. My father’s a skunk. It’s bad enough that he leaves my mother and decides to marry Donna. Now he’s starting a brand new family. He probably won’t care about me anymore. I’m being replaced.

I get up from the table and head to the restroom as fast as I can. The napkin on my lap flutters to the floor. Normally, I would lean over and pick it up and place it back on the table. It’s the proper thing to do, but at the moment I no longer care what’s proper, so I ignore it and continue on to the ladies’ room. I hope it’s empty so I can sit in a stall with no one around. I don’t want anyone to witness how badly I’m falling apart.

At least school is going okay. I got most of the classes I wanted and just one that I didn’t, geometry. I hate math. But the teacher, Mr. Blakely, jokes around a lot and tries hard to make angles and variables interesting. He lists the equations we’re to solve on the chalkboard and puts smiley faces next to where the answer should be.

Something else nice happened. I met a girl who just moved here from Texas. We hit it off right away. Her name is Julia. She has long dark hair and eyes as big as pancakes. She has this habit of saying, “Well, wouldn’t you know?” She nods her head when she says it and you realize she’s really listening to you. Like, when I told her my father left my mother and didn’t give us any real warning. She said, “Well, wouldn’t you know?”

Don’t ask me why I told her such a personal thing. I’d just met her, but there’s something about her that makes you want to confide in her. She loops her arm through mine and says her parents are divorced, too.

“I live with my mother and my stepfather,” she says. “And he’s a jerk, wouldn’t you know?”

Now I sort of have a new best friend. Not that she’ll really take Bridget’s place but I figure there’s no problem with making new friendships. I hope Bridget is making some, too. It doesn’t look like her father is coming back for her anytime soon, so it would help for her to have a good support system with friends to lean on.

Julia and I are going to the mall on Sunday. It’ll have to be after Mass. But that’s okay. The mall doesn’t open on Sunday until noon. And they’ve opened an indoor skating rink. We’re going to give it a try.

“Think we’ll meet any cool guys?” she says and her eyebrows go up and down.

I tell her about what happened to me and Bridget on the cruise ship and she giggles. “You’re lucky you’re not grounded for life. My mother would have put me in a convent.”

I tell her about the Angels program at the nursing home and ask her if she’d like to help out.

“I’ve signed up again,” I say. “At first I didn’t think I would like it. But then I had this great old couple I would read to and it kind of grows on you. Want to give it a try?”

She says, “Why not?” And then I realize she could be part of Table Grace, too and help out at the boutique. “You don’t get any extra credit at school or anything,” I explain, “but it really makes you feel good inside. Wait ’til you see the look on some of the girls’ faces when they get complete outfits! One girl broke down and cried, she was so happy.”

“Wouldn’t you know?” Julia says. “I’ve only been here two weeks and I have a full schedule already.”

She grins and loops her arm through mine again and we head to the lunchroom. She picks out a table loaded with boys. “Hey, want some company?” she says. They shrug their shoulders. They scoot over a bit and we sit down. Julia doesn’t waste any time. In five minutes she manages to get all of their names and what classes they’re taking.

***

Julia and I don’t get on the bus. We decide to walk home. We’re not supposed to do that, but it’s a beautiful fall day and we don’t care that we’re breaking the rules. At least, Julia doesn’t and that makes me extra brave.

We’re having what my mother calls an early fall. The trees are showing their colors early. They’re dripping in shades of orange and yellow and red. When we get to my house the lawn is peppered with leaves. We no longer have a gardener. Now that Henry’s gone, my mother can’t bear to replace him. She hires a service instead. They come once a week and do their thing. The truck is now parked in our circular driveway. It’s towing a long trailer with all sorts of equipment dumped in the back.
Personal Touch Lawn Care
is etched on the panel of the pick-up. There’s a stocky man in khakis blowing the leaves on our front yard. He’s gathered them into a big pile off to the side of the house. Julia looks at me and winks. She sets her book bag down and makes a run for the pile. I watch as she throws herself into the stack. She gathers up as many of the leaves as both her hands can hold and throws them over her head. They rain down on her, sticking to her hair and her sweater. It looks like too much fun not to join her and I make a mad dash for the pile. By now the nicely stacked pile is a total mess. I run through the leaves and plop down beside her. The mass of leaves is like a blanket of giant cornflakes beneath us. We roll around and around. We’re being totally stupid, but we don’t care. The man blowing the leaves stops and scratches his head. I don’t think he knows what to think of us. The front door opens. It’s my mother. Rudy bounds out the open door.

“Andi?” my mother calls as Rudy comes over to join us. Dogs know instinctively what to do with a pile of fresh fallen leaves. Rudy happily rolls over and over beside us. His tongue is long and lazy, lolling out of his mouth.

“Here, boy!” I say and gather him in my arms. His coat of hair is covered with broken bits of leaves and twigs. He barks twice, and leaps from my arms. He runs in circles around us. He’s having a grand time. Julia and I stand up and brush at the leaves covering our clothing. She is laughing and stomping at the leaves still under her feet.

I can’t help but laugh at the sight before us myself. The neatly blown pile of leaves is no longer a neatly blown pile of leaves. The lawn man is still standing with his blower still blowing. My mother is at the front door shaking her head. It’s a glorious day. We’ve made a big mess. But it’s so much fun. Rudy is in dog heaven. If only life could always be so carefree.

Julia is talking non-stop about her father.

“I was supposed to go to Texas this summer and visit, but now I’m not going.”

She is major mad. “What happened?”

“The same thing that happened last year. He calls out of the blue and says something’s come up.”

We’re sitting next to each other on the bus. It’s not our regular one. This one goes right by Sunny Meadows Nursing Home. We have permission to ride it on Tuesdays so we can join the other Angels. Today we get our assignments of who we’ll be reading to. I’m kind of excited. I miss the Sterlings. Of course, I’ll never see Mr. Sterling again; not in this lifetime, but I had counted on seeing Mrs. Sterling. But she is moving to Maryland to be with her daughter, and boy, is she putting up a fuss. She doesn’t want to leave George. George doesn’t look like it’s going to bother him much. About eighty percent of the women at this nursing home are vying for him. Mrs. Sterling is having a fit.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “There are probably plenty of men in Maryland. They have a population in the millions. I’m sure of it.” That seems to quiet her. Right now I’m more worried about Julia. She’s very upset and that’s not like her.

“What came up that you can’t go?”

“Who knows?” she says. “Something stupid, like he has to take these classes this summer for his job and Betty can’t handle having company without him being around. Like I’m company! I’m supposed to be family.”

“Betty’s—”

“The stepmother from hell.”

Julia brushes at the tears in her eyes. “I should have known I wouldn’t be going. It’s been like this ever since they had kids.”

“You mean there’s more than one?” I think of my dad and Donna and wonder if they’re planning on a large family.

“Four.”

“Four kids?”

Julia twists her lips together and grunts. “They have a set of twins, twelve months old. And two little girls, three and four. My dad says that’s why I can’t come. Betty has her hands full.”

“But you could help out,” I point out.

“Right. Like that’s going to happen.”

I’m not used to seeing Julia so down and I’m not sure what to say. She’s usually so happy.

“Here’s the problem,” she explains. “When he first got remarried they told me how I’d always be a part of their family. Then they had the first baby, a little girl and I got to visit, but then she got real sick and they said I couldn’t come until she got better. Only she didn’t get better. She got worse and she had to have these surgeries. Something to do with her heart. And then Betty got pregnant again, but the baby they already had, Suzie, got better after her surgeries, so I was supposed to go visit, but Betty wasn’t feeling well. She was sick all during the pregnancy, so I didn’t get to visit at all that year. And then after the baby was born, it was another girl, Katie. My father said we needed to wait ’til things calmed down and he sent me all these pictures of them instead. And my Dad looked really happy, you know?”

Julia crosses her arms and leans against the seat. She’s sitting next to the window and traces her finger on the pane.

“Then she gets pregnant again and it’s with twins, and my dad said it was just too much for her with two toddlers and the pregnancy, so he’d come see me, but he never did.”

“So you haven’t seen him in four years?”

“Once,” she said. “He came here after Easter.”

“But I thought you just moved here? Didn’t you see him when you were in Texas?”

“Oh, we moved to Augusta when I was ten, right after my mother got remarried. Then this year my step-father got transferred here.”

“So, you’ve only seen your father once since you were ten?”

Julia nods her head.

I’m feeling really bad for her and then I remember this could be me in no time at all. I think of Donna and all her reassurances that I’ll always be welcome and now I’m not so sure.

“My dad and his new wife are having a baby.”

“Well, I hope you have better luck,” she says. “But mostly they never care about you anymore once they start a new family.”

A lump is growing in my chest.

“It’s that way for a lot of kids, Andi. I’m not the only one.” She says this with a great deal of conviction and shakes her head.

The lump in my chest has moved up to my throat. I’m having trouble swallowing.

“I should have just cut him out of my life before he ever had a chance to do it to me,” she says and leans her head against the window.

The bus goes over a pothole and Julia’s head bangs against the pane. She puts her head in her hands and rocks back and forth.

“Julia? Are you alright?” I pat her back and feel her chest moving up and down and realize she’s crying. She’s buried her head in her arms so no one will see, but I don’t think it’s because she bumped her head.

***

Julia and I get our reading assignments. When Julia receives hers, she suggests that they form a book club.

“Then we can pick a book a month to read from.”

She’s all smiles, her father forgotten for the moment.

“That might work,” Mrs. Garrett says. She’s the woman who put the Angels group together. “We could try it. Let me see if I can find a small group of ladies who are interested.”

“Well, men can come, too,” Julia says.

“There are about two men left in this whole place,” I tell her.

“Oh, well, all women is okay, too,” she adds.

Mrs. Garrett heads off in search of those interested. She’s all excited. “Actually, this could work out very well,” she says over her shoulder. “We’re short on volunteers this year.”

I’m going to be reading to Katherine Wilcox, a retired librarian. It’s making me a bit nervous. She’s bound to correct any of my mispronunciations. It’ll be like being in school. Ms. Wilcox is sitting in a rocking chair next to her bed. She’s a small woman with wisps of gray hair that are sticking out in all directions like a halo. Don’t they groom these poor ladies anymore?

“Hello,” I say politely. “I’m Andi and I came to read to you. Would you like that?”

Before she has a chance to answer, Nurse Gabby comes in and barks, “Say hello to Andi, Katherine!” She says it so loudly, I’m afraid I have another deaf person. Katherine nearly jumps out of the rocker. Obviously she hears very well and Gabby has scared her half to death with her bellowing. I take one of her hands—Katherine’s, not Gabby’s. Her skin is pale and so thin it’s like the veins peppering the back of her hand are sitting out on top. I place her hand back in her lap and smile at her as brightly as I can. Something about her just makes me want to do my best. She has hazel eyes with bits of yellow flecks in the center. I picture her as a young woman and imagine those little flecks sparkling like bits of gold. It doesn’t take much to see that she was once a great beauty.

“Well,” Gabby says, again much too loudly. “Guess I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” She turns and mouths at me,
call me if you need me
. Now, why would I need Gabby? I’m perfectly able to read to Ms. Wilcox all on my own and read in a voice that doesn’t scare her off her chair.

I’ve brought along two books I checked out from the library that afternoon at school,
Little Women
and
Jane Eyre
. I decide to open with
Little Women
and see how it goes. I start at the beginning and get to my favorite part in Chapter Three. Jo is at the party at Mrs. Gardiner’s house and is hiding in the alcove and discovers Laurie, Mrs. Gardiner’s grandson, who is hiding there, too. They begin talking and get along very well and he asks her to dance. They go into the hallway to dance where no one will see them. I love this part. It’s kind of romantic. Ms. Wilcox has a distant look in her eyes. Maybe she is remembering one of her beaus from long ago. One of the reasons I chose the books I brought is because they are very old and the residents here are very old and I figured maybe they would bring back nice memories of when they were young and reading them for the very first time.

“Read it again,” Ms. Wilcox says and smiles.

I was right. These are the perfect books to read from. I’m about to start over when there is a knock at the door.

“May I join you?”

There’s a tall, overly thin elderly man standing in the door way. He has on a long cardigan sweater that is buttoned up one button off and baggy pants full of wrinkles. Don’t they ever iron their clothes around here either? He’s wearing glasses. He still has a head full of hair. It’s neatly combed over to one side. He smells of Old Spice and has a grin like Kevin Costner, slightly lopsided and very charming.

“Hello,” I say. “I’m Andi. It’s alright with me if it’s alright with Ms. Wilcox.”

Katherine doesn’t say anything. She still has that faraway look in her eyes.

“Katherine won’t mind, I’m sure. Isn’t that right?” he says and takes the chair next to the bed. “I’m Joseph Stewart,” he says and holds out one hand.

“It’s nice to have you, Mr. Stewart,” I say on my best behavior.

“Call me Joe,” he says. “I’d like that.”

“Joe.”

He shakes my hand. I like him already. He’s warm and friendly and listens to every word I read like he’s hearing it for the very first time. Later I find he lives in the room across the hall.

“I’m very fond of Katherine,” he says when he shows me his room. “She isn’t herself anymore, I’m afraid.”

I look at him with a question mark stamped on my face.

“Her memory,” he explains. “She’s not the same. She got a bad case of the flu this winter and it’s been downhill from there.”

He has a very sad look in his eyes. “She’s my girlfriend,” he adds.

I think he’s blushing.

“That is, she was, many years ago before the war. She was Katherine Burroughs then.”

Joe explains he was taken captive by the Japanese. “I was one of the six hundred and fifty Americans forced to march to Bataan,” he says. “When the war ended, I came back to the States. But Katherine had gotten married.” He lets out a deep sigh.

“She didn’t wait for you?”

“I suspect she thought I was dead. We lost a lot of men on that march.”

“So you married someone else, too?”

Joe shakes his head no. “I waited for Katherine, instead,” he says.

“But she was married,” I said.

“Yes, but I presumed he wouldn’t live forever!” he says brightly. “I was right,” he said. “He died last year and I followed her here. We had a lovely year together, yes we did.”

“Until the flu,” I say sadly.

“Yes, until the flu. But don’t be sad, young lady. I’m counting on her being back to herself in no time.”

I smile softly at him. He seems so convinced.

“And your reading to us will be lovely until she is.”

“Until she is,” I repeat and shake his hand. He shakes warmly and firmly, such a lovely man. I hope Katherine can remember him. Maybe I won’t read
Little Women
after all. Maybe I’ll read
Jane Eyre
. It’s such a powerful love story. Maybe it will remind her that she has one of her very own.