Dating For Decades (19 page)

Once the door is open fully, I’m greeted with a big sign across the whiteboard that says “Thank You” with balloons taped to the side. Lucille is standing by her computer with a bouquet of flowers.

“Surprise!” The group shouts and I can’t help but smile. I really never liked surprises, but as I fill with joy looking at all their faces, I think maybe I understand why others do.

“What’s this about?” I set my things down at the desk and Lucille hands me the flowers. They smell beautiful like wildflowers in a meadow.
 

“We wanted to thank you for putting up with us old folks. We know sometimes it’s hard for you young whippersnappers.”

“Lucille, I’ll be forty years old in a few months. I’m not exactly young either.”

“Forty is the new twenty.”

“Well then maybe I’m actually turning sixty because I sure do feel like I’m forty.”

I don’t really know what being forty feels like. I’ve never been forty before. All I know is I feel old.
Really
old. When I was in my early thirties, I didn’t think twice about turning forty because it seemed so far away. Now it’s staring me in the face in a couple of months. How on earth did that happen?

“My forties were some of the best years of my life.” Lucille hands me the flowers. “You need to approach life differently. You’re not dating or settling down, and you think marriage is some horrible thing. And children. You have absolutely no desire to have children. I don’t understand it, but I’ll respect it. But you need to promise me you’re going to work toward a future you can be proud of.”
 

 
I’ve never taken lightly to somebody telling me what to do or how to live my life, but Lucille is different. She hasn’t a clue about my life or what I’ve been through and what I’ve struggled with, and she doesn’t care. All she cares about is happiness. We all should go through life with happiness as our only goal. Forget about money or stature or what happened in the past. Just be happy. “Thank you, Lucille. I will.” I clap my hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you so much everyone, and now it’s time to get to work. Today I’m going to teach you about playing games online.”

“Do you mean like Candy Crush?” Buddy, who sits next to Lucille, calls out.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“I’ve been playing that since the first class. I’m already on level 400 and something.”

I wonder if Buddy has been playing every class, not even paying attention to anything I’ve tried to teach them. “Well then maybe
you
can help me teach the class,” I say and we all laugh.

Twenty minutes later everyone has picked their poison and are playing the games. I sit down next to Lucille. “Seriously, though. Thank you for the flowers. That was very considerate. I’ve never received flowers from anybody before.”

“Never?” She places her hand on her heart like it’s the worst thing in the world.

Sasha has before, but that doesn’t count. “I don’t think I’ve been in a relationship long enough for anybody to
want
to give me flowers.”

“I don’t understand young folks these days. What’s so hard about commitment? You find somebody, you fall in love, and history writes the rest of the book.”

“If only it were that simple. I’ve come to realize that things in my past are what hold me back from living my future.”

“Why? Stop it. Change it. Only you hold the true key to your future. Turn it. Unlock what awaits you.”

Lucille is such an intelligent and charismatic woman. I can see why her husband fell in love with her and it’s too bad for Billy that he moved away. Speaking of. “Did you find your long-lost love?”

“I thought you would never ask. I found him a few weeks ago, and we’ve gone on a few dates.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” I thought for sure she would tell me the minute she found him on Facebook. She must have figured out on her own how to send him private messages. I’m happy for her.

“I don’t know. But it’s going very well. His wife passed away about ten years back, and apparently he’s been looking for me as well.” She pulls her shoulders to her ears and quietly says, “We’re talking about getting married.”

Lucille, an eighty-year-old woman, is talking about getting married. At her age. And here I am, half her age, and it’s something I can’t, and won’t, even consider.
Is
there something wrong with me?

“That’s wonderful, Lucille. I’m very happy for you.”

“I’m glad my daughter and granddaughter made me do this. And I’m very glad that I’ve met you.”

I never thought I would be friends with an eighty-year-old woman. But I like her. She’s spunky. And as close to a motherly figure as I’ll get.

“Did you find a game you want to play?”

“Hell, no.” She waves her hand at me. “I don’t have time for that.” I love she said that. “I’ve got better things to do. And his name is Billy.”

I could die laughing. When I think of someone her age, a dirty mind isn’t a way I would use to describe that person. I seriously thinks she’s me forty years in the future. “You’re pretty sassy.”

“I know. That’s why the men love me.”

It’s amazing to me how much fun she puts into life. She toots her own horn and doesn’t care who knows it. It doesn’t matter, either, because she really doesn’t give two shits what anyone thinks and the confidence she carries with that really brings out a likable side to her.

“I’ll miss you, but I know we’ll be friends on Facebook.” She places her hand over mine and her touch warms me.

Facebook. I haven’t gone on since the day I found my mom. And I didn’t intend to go back on. “That sounds great.” I want to see Lucille again. I don’t plan to lose touch with her.

“And I want to see your status change to ‘in a relationship’ soon.”

Facebook official. I think about Keith and how much I would love to tag him in such a change. I think I screwed things up with him, though, and my status will forever be ‘single.’
 

Chapter

Twenty-Three

I can’t breathe, my eyes burn, and my head is throbbing. I can’t remember the last time sickness took over my body like this. I don’t even want to move. I think it’s been about four years since I’ve been sick. Anytime I’ve felt something coming on I fend it off with essential oils. Not this time. I went to bed Sunday night in a perfectly healthy state and now it’s Monday morning and I feel like death. I can’t make it into work today. I’m not even sure I can find the strength to open my laptop. I better write this day down or let Shannon know. A full day without accessing work? She’ll never believe me. Of course, I have my iPad, so there’s always that.

I need something to help me out, so I take some non-drowsy cold medicine. Though knocking myself out seems like a pretty good idea right now. I may have just woken up, but I could go for another eight hours of sleep. I make my way back from the bathroom to my bedroom and almost forget where I’m going. I’m off to a wonderful start. I guess I’ll watch some television. I flip through the channels. What the heck is on Monday mornings? Apparently a whole bunch of talk shows about current events or the latest diet trend. Or Judge Judy, Jeff, or Steve. If there’s a chance someone will watch it, it’s a guarantee it will become a show.
 

After about forty-five minutes of listening to a group of women rant and complain about who knows what (I really wasn’t listening), I can’t keep my eyes open anymore, much less put up with their asinine comments. I practically pass out the second my head hits the pillow. So much for non-drowsy.

My cell phone ringing pulls me out of my sleep. I sit up and realize as I almost pass out I can’t get up that quickly. Very bad idea. The caller ID shows me it’s Sasha. Great. I’ve avoided her calls since the fiasco at her house. I suppose I should own up to it and face the music. Maybe since I’m sick, she’ll have a little sympathy for me.

“Hello?” I moan into the phone, hoping by doing this she’ll immediately know I’m sick and do me the courtesy of not chatting too long.

“Why have you been avoiding my calls?” She starts to question me immediately. I shouldn’t be shocked or anything. I deserve it. I hate when people ignore my texts. I mean, who calls people anymore anyway? No one wants to talk on the phone. Maybe if she texted me I would have answered.

“I’m sorry, Sasha. I couldn’t deal with it.”

“So you shut everyone out?”

I seriously don’t want to deal with this right now. I want to lay back down and sleep for another hour, at least. “Everyone? I talk to
you
in the family. That’s pretty much it.”

“You know who I mean.”

My head can’t handle this. I’m cold, stuffy, and my brain hurts. I haven’t eaten a thing this morning so I probably should try and consume some type of food. “I don’t want to talk about her.” Although good thing I
do
have an empty stomach because the thought of my mother right now may make me throw up.

“Well, too bad. I need to talk to you.”

What now? Did she find my great great aunt by my mother’s aunt’s uncle’s son’s friend? I know that sounds ridiculous, but what the hell could be so damn important? I’ve got better things to do. Like sleep. And sleep some more. After I take more medication.

“Can you make it quick? I’m a little under the weather.” And by a little, I mean a lot. Like I’m practically dying over here.
 

“I can tell. You sound stuffy.”
Geez, thanks.
“It’s your mom.”

“I said I don’t want to discuss her. What part of the sentence don’t you understand?” I pinch the bridge of my nose, shut my eyes, and try not to scream. I’m a broken record with this one.

“She’s in the hospital with pneumonia. It’s pretty bad, actually. Her HIV has complicated things. She’s very sick. The doctors are doing the best they can.”

I should react, say something, but I’m … indifferent. Am I supposed to feel something? What? Right now all I can feel is this pain in my head. It’s pneumonia. People get that every day. It’s not like she has an untreatable disease … well, okay, maybe she
does
, but I’m sure she’ll get over this pneumonia and continue to live her life with her husband, Dave. I think that was his name? Or did she call him David? Either way, same person.

“Cassie?”

I’m here, but I don’t have anything to say. She’s given her information to me. Let’s move on.

“She’s been there a few days already, and she’s going to be there a lot longer. I’ve been to see her twice now and she doesn’t even know I’m there. All she’s doing is sleeping.”

Like I wish I was. Let’s wrap this up. Even if I
did
want to go see her, which I don’t, if she doesn’t know Sasha is there, she won’t know I’m there either. Can’t she tell her I came and be done with it?

“I can’t believe you won’t even talk to me. Your mother is
sick
, Cassie. What if she doesn’t make it?”

Huh.
What if she doesn’t make it? As in, what if she dies?
Well, what if? I never thought about it. I guess a majority of my life now I’ve already considered her gone, non-existent. Would the finality of death make any difference? Would this change how I feel about her? Would it change how she was to me as a child? Can seeing her
now
bring any closure and make everything all right between us? Sasha thinks so, apparently, and I’m sure Shannon would agree.

“Cassie? Are you there? What if she doesn’t make it through this?”

“What if she doesn’t? What does that have to do with me?”

She gasps on the other side. I can picture her hand reaching up to her mouth in horror, the sheer implication of my not caring burning a hole into her naive heart. “I can’t believe you said that. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Should I? Maybe I should. Maybe I shouldn’t, and I should flip my middle finger up to the world. Hell, I should make all my fingers dance in a bouquet of fuck offs. I don’t even care. My life was getting along just fine until my mom forced her way back in, which, by the way, Sasha had a part in. My past with her was practically erased. I’m on my own, and I’ve
been
on my own and doing well for myself. I don’t
need
her in my life. I didn’t when I was a child, a teenager, and now as an adult. “Well, I’m not. She’s no one to me.”

“You’ll regret it if you don’t see her, Cassie.”

“Why does everyone feel the need to judge what I will and won’t regret in life? First Shannon and now you.” My nose clogs up and I can’t speak until I clear it. I blow rudely into the phone and toss the tissue on my end table. “I’ll be the one to decide who I want to see and when I want to see them.”

My phone dings. An email. I don’t listen to whatever Sasha is saying and quickly check my message. It’s Lucas.

Missed you at work today. Do you need any soup? A foot rub? I’m here if you need anything.

Sweet. Finally, someone who doesn’t care about my relationship or lack of one with my mother.
He’s
a friend. I’m sick and he wants me to feel better, not worse, which Sasha is doing right now. I reply I’ll be back on Tuesday and thank him for his offer. I may take him up on the soup some day, but not the massage though it
does
sound appealing since I’m aware of what his hands can do.

Sasha is still talking, going on and on. “I know she wasn’t the best parent in the world, but she wants to try now. You owe her that much.”

I roll my eyes back and push my head further down on the pillow. I can picture myself at that library years ago, standing in the entryway, wondering if she would show up. Wondering if I walked out the door and never came back, would she even care. Now it’s
my
turn not to give any fucks.

“I don’t owe her anything.”

Chapter

Twenty-Four

I’m glad to be back at work, even if I still want to be in bed. My head feels as though I am floating through the day, and I’m nursing a small sniffle, but compared to yesterday, I’m on top of the world. It could be all the cold medicine I took this morning, but I don’t care. I’m physically present and need to finish these reviews.

Sasha tried calling me back a few times after I hung up on her. I came close to blocking her number, but even if I hate that she orchestrated my whole failed meeting with my mother, she’s the closest one I have in my family. Unless there is some big event planned, I don’t show my face around too often. I’m surprised some family members even remember my name.