Authors: Amy Hatvany
“He asked me not to tell you,” she said, and my stomach flipped over. Even if she wasn’t doing it on purpose, I hated it when she said things to make my dad look like the bad guy. Suddenly angry, I pulled my hand away from hers and concentrated on watching Max attempting to dribble. He bounced the ball off the tip of his tennis shoe and it shot across the court. “Don’t
worry, I got it!” he yelled, waving to his teammates. He picked up the ball, tried to dribble, and bounced it off his shoe again. His coach started yelling at him to pass, but Max didn’t listen. Instead, he raced after the ball, recovered it, and took a shot at the basket. “Nothing but net!” he hollered as the ball finally went through the hoop, then he did a little victory dance on the court. Watching him, I couldn’t help but smile.
I wondered what it was Dad didn’t want Mama to tell me, but it really could have been anything. I shot Bree a text message, “My mom’s such a pain,” and she texted back, “Mine 2.”
Mama nudged me as I tried to text. “Hey,” she said. “Are you
mad
at me?”
“No,” I said, not looking at her. “Just watching Max.”
“No, you’re not. You’re texting.” She reached for my phone. “I want you to talk with me.”
“
God
, Mom,” I said, yanking my phone away so she couldn’t get it. “I don’t feel like talking, okay? Is that all
right
with you?” Her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears, and I immediately felt horrible. I sighed and put my arm around her. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder and wiped her eyes. “Me too, baby girl. Me too.”
Did she
know
she was sick, then? I wondered now, as I lay on my bed crying. Did she want Daddy to tell us instead of her, because he was better at handling those kinds of things? Maybe she knew she had something wrong with her as I sat with her on those hard bleachers. Maybe she wanted me to
make
her tell me, to coax it out of her like I’d done countless times before when she was upset. I’d let her down. I got irritated and ignored her. I should have told Daddy something was wrong. I should have called him and told him how upset she was, how she wasn’t
sleeping and how she still cried all the time. I didn’t do any of this and now she was dead.
The pain suddenly inflated, pushing against the underside of my skin. I rolled around, trying to escape the mounting pressure inside me. “No, no,
no
,” I cried, and without warning, the ache exploded, slashing through the muscles in my chest and up out of my mouth. I screamed into my pillow, hot tears scalding my cheeks. I punched the wall, barely registering the hard smack of my knuckles against it, then hit it again. My cries raked against my throat, over and over, until finally, Daddy came rushing back in.
“Oh, Ava, sweetie,” he said, wrapping himself back around me, trying to hold me still.
I struggled against him, wanting to pull away, but there was no point. He was too strong; he wouldn’t let me go. “I’m here, honey,” he said. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“No!” I screamed again, but he only held me tighter. I sobbed then, the pain seeping out of me, my body melting into my father’s embrace, my mind still knowing he was wrong.
Knowing that no matter what he said, things would never be okay again.
In the morning, I didn’t want to leave Victor alone to deal with the kids, but I also wasn’t sure really what good—if any—I would be to him. Max had some Cocoa Puffs, but the rest of us didn’t want to eat. We all carried dark luggage beneath our eyes and no one said much. Ava wouldn’t even look at me. The kids watched noisy and distracting cartoons in the den, while Victor and I took some time to talk in our room. We sat on the bed, his hands wrapped around mine.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you last night,” he said.
“It’s okay.” I gave him a tired smile. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed, and his eyes filled with tears. “The kids are just annihilated, Grace. I feel so helpless. I have to be here for them, but I also need to get over to their house and get them clothes, plus make all the arrangements. Kelli didn’t want a funeral, but I was thinking we could just have a small gathering here at the house, maybe on Thursday? I also have to make sure the restaurant is covered for the next week, at least . . .”
His voice held a slightly panicked edge, so I held my hand up to stop him. “I can get their things. The kids need you here more than they need me.”
Or want me.
I thought of Ava’s angry words from the night before.
He looked doubtful. “Are you sure? It’s not going to upset you?”
“I don’t think so. Can you ask what they might want me to grab? Favorite clothes or whatever?” He nodded, and I felt a twinge of relief at having been given something to do. A thought struck me. “Have you called her parents?”
Victor nodded. “From the hospital, last night.” He sighed. “I’m not sure her mother fully understood what I was saying. She didn’t sound right, you know? Confused.”
“Like how, confused?”
“Like not-mentally-all-there confused. Scattered confused. They’re in their late seventies, I think, so maybe she’s got some dementia or something?” I nodded, and he went on. “Anyway, they’re not coming.”
My jaw dropped. “Really?” He nodded again. I knew Kelli was estranged from her parents, but I still had a hard time trying to imagine the kind of people who’d never met their own grandchildren and now wouldn’t give their only daughter enough respect to come say good-bye. “What
happened
between them and Kelli?” I asked. I’d never had reason to be curious about this issue before, but it suddenly seemed important to know. “What could have been so bad?”
“She didn’t like to talk about it,” Victor said with a heavy sigh. “They were pretty uptight and Kelli was more of a free spirit. It’s what I liked about her.”
My stomach twisted hearing him say this, but I ignored it as best as I could. He had been
married
to her; at one time, he loved her the same way he loved me now. He would need to talk about his feelings for her, and I needed to be a big enough person to understand this. I shook my head and tried to focus on what was important. “Okay, but it’s their
daughter
.”
“If they didn’t make the trip when she was alive, why would they when she . . .” He swallowed, visibly choking on his next words. “When she’s not.” He cleared his throat.
“I guess so,” I said. “But it’s still pretty sad.” Both sets of my grandparents lived on the East Coast, so Sam and I didn’t get to see them much when we were growing up, but they always sent us birthday cards and Christmas presents. I always knew they loved me.
Victor nodded. “Anyway . . . how are
you
doing?” he asked, searching my face with his clear gray eyes. It seemed like such a small question for the enormity of our circumstances.
I shrugged and gave him a brief smile. “It doesn’t matter how I’m doing. How are you? How are the kids?” I paused, knowing he was looking for a better answer than that. The problem was, I didn’t have one. Everything inside me felt unhinged. I took a deep breath before speaking again. “I don’t think it’s easy for any of us right now. It’s just devastating all around.”
Victor sighed and took my hands in his. “I don’t want you to be devastated. This was supposed to be such a huge weekend for us. Telling the kids about our engagement. And now . . .”
“Now things are different,” I finished for him. “But we’re still engaged. We just don’t tell the kids yet. That’s all. We help them get through the roughest part of this first.”
“That shouldn’t be your job,” he said quietly, looking back at me. “Listen. I know this wasn’t part of our plan. The kids with us full-time, I mean. I’m a little overwhelmed by the prospect myself, so I’d understand if you didn’t want to do it.” His voice was low, his words deliberate.
I swallowed hard, wondering if my fear and confusion about the situation was obvious despite how hard I’d worked to disguise it. I decided the best thing I could do was be honest. “It is overwhelming. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little apprehensive about dealing with all of this.”
He suddenly looked scared, too, and in that moment, it felt
like my choice was made. There was no way I could leave him. Not now. I reached a hand up and smoothed his hair back from his face. “I know you’re tough, honey, but you can’t be the rock for everyone. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank you for that,” Victor said, and his eyes grew dark. “But I need to be very clear with you about something. You don’t have to worry about taking care of the kids. They’re
my
kids.
My
responsibility. Our life will be different because they’re living here, of course. But our relationship—you and me—doesn’t have to change. Because I want you to be my partner, not their parent. Okay?”
I nodded once, briefly, allowing myself to become buoyed by his words. We kissed, and he went to talk with the children while I showered and dressed. I texted Melody and asked her if she could meet me at Kelli’s to help me pack up the kids’ things, and she immediately shot back an “Absolutely. Send me the address.” I complied and then walked down the hallway to the kitchen, where Victor handed me two sheets of paper listing the things Max and Ava wanted me to bring:
Purple radio by bed
, Ava had written.
Orange paper clips. Conditioner in green bottle in the shower.
And then she went on to detail the multitude of clothing I would need to pack up. Max’s list was easier:
Jeans
, it read.
Shirts with stuff on them. Red flashlight and my Iron Man Halloween costume. My mom’s blue blanket off her bed.
“Take as long as you need,” Victor told me. “Call me if you have any questions.”
My mother had left me a message earlier, returning my call from yesterday, so I slipped on my headset and called her back as I drove toward Kelli’s house. She was likely in her garden, where she’d spent most of her time since she retired ten years ago and moved about ninety miles north of Seattle to Bellingham.
I pictured the last time I had seen her in the small but lush yard outside of her tiny one-bedroom house—a beach shack on Lake Whatcom with whitewashed cedar clapboards. It was back in early September, at the beginning of a beautiful Indian summer, and the morning sun lit up the startling autumnal hues in her yard. At sixty-two, she was really just starting to show her age in the slight sag of the skin beneath her chin and the pronounced lines around her eyes and mouth. Still, she was a beautiful woman. Her frizzy reddish-gray curls were hidden beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat. She wore what she called her “mom uniform”: stretchy blue jeans with an elastic waistband, a pink cotton button-down shirt, and lime-green work gloves.
I thought I could drive as I talked with her, but as the phone rang, it suddenly struck me that Ava would never be able to call Kelli like this in a moment of need. She could never reach out for her mother’s comfort again. I had to pull over and park when she answered the phone, crying when I heard her voice.
“Mama,” I said, and the tears started to fall. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d used that particular endearment. She was always Mom or Mother. But not now. Not today.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
My throat convulsed as I tried to speak. “Kelli . . . Victor’s ex-wife . . . she died.”
“Oh
no
!” she said. “What
happened
?”
I filled her in on the little I knew. “I’m so worried she killed herself. Victor said she was pretty upset when he told her we’re engaged.”
“Grace,” my mother said in a firm but gentle tone. “Honey. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Okay? Can you promise me that?”
“Okay.” She was right. We didn’t have all the facts yet. It was silly to draw any conclusions at this point.
“What about the kids? How are
they
handling it?” She’d only met Max and Ava once, but I knew she looked forward to the possibility of becoming a surrogate grandmother when Victor and I decided to get married.
I told her what Ava said to me, tearing up again as I spoke. “She
hates
me.”
“I don’t think that’s true, sweetie. But her heart is broken. And she’s only thirteen. Think about how
you
were at that age.”
“When you had Sam.” I sniffled and wiped beneath my eyes with the back of my hand, happy I’d thought better of putting on any makeup.
“That’s right. And that was hard enough for you to deal with. Put yourself in Ava’s place. She’s lashing out because she’s hurting, Gracie. She’s just lost the most important person in her
life
.”
“I know. I totally get that. And I’m just
devastated
for her. And for Max, too. But I just don’t know if I’m going to be any good for them, you know? What if I say or do the wrong thing and make things
worse
?” She didn’t say anything, allowing me the space to go on. “I’m not used to feeling so powerless. I
manage
crisis situations—that’s my job. And there’s nothing I can do to manage this. They don’t even
want
me there.”
“You never know. Maybe that will change. You’ve told me before that most of your clients aren’t always emotionally ready to accept the help you offer them, but they eventually come around, right?”
“Right, but . . .” I didn’t know how to articulate my fears, to explain how deep they went within me. How fundamentally ill equipped I felt around children, even after spending ten years helping to take care of Sam.
We were both quiet a moment, listening to each other breathe. My tears began to slow down, and finally, she spoke
again, so quietly I barely heard her. “Do you regret that you moved in with Victor?”
Leave it to my mother to ask the one question I didn’t want to answer. Maybe she could read my mind or had some kind of other motherly psychic ability I wasn’t aware of. I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me, pressing my lips together before speaking. “We were supposed to tell the kids about the engagement this weekend.”