“You can’t live your life waiting for two weeks a year when you enjoy yourself, Liza. What about the other fifty weeks?”
“I don’t only enjoy myself two weeks a year.” Liza frowned. “It’s true that day-to-day it feels a bit exhausting, but this is life, isn’t it? And it’s the same for everyone. Everyone has something.”
But not everyone handled their “something” with the same diligence as her daughter.
“You need to find that summer feeling for the rest of the year, not only for two weeks in August.” Kathleen licked her lips. “I’m worried about you.”
“You’re worried about me?” Liza laughed. “You’re the one driving across America with someone you don’t know.”
But that suited her. She had no desire to know Martha. Superficial relationships had always been her preference.
“I’m worried that you never put up boundaries.”
Liza adjusted her grip on the wheel. “We’re different that way, you know we are.”
“Yes, but you allow people to feed on your good nature until all that’s left is—is dust. Have you painted lately?”
“Caitlin’s bedroom.”
“You know that wasn’t what I meant.”
“No, I haven’t painted.” Liza sounded tired. “No time.”
“You should make time.”
“I haven’t felt like it. There’s no pleasure in trying to create something in a snatched moment when everyone is trying to take a piece of you. It becomes another chore. And I’d feel guilty taking that time for myself when there is so much to be done.”
This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.
Kathleen trod cautiously, like an explorer venturing into a new land. “You’re the glue that holds the family together, but do you know what happens to glue over time? It dries out. And then everything falls apart.”
“You think I’m drying out?” Liza’s response was light, but her hands tightened on the wheel. “I need to change my moisturizer.”
“Do you use moisturizer?”
“When I remember.” Liza drew breath. “You think I’m weak. You think I let people walk all over me.”
“No. I think you’re a giver. You’re the kindest person I know, and generous, but for some reason you forget to extend that kindness to yourself. Which part of your life is for you and no one else? Liza!” She squeaked a warning as her daughter almost drove into the car in front.
Liza slammed on the brakes. “Sorry. I—Did you say you think I’m kind and generous?”
“Yes.” Why would a few words of praise elicit such a dramatic response? And were those tears in Liza’s eyes? No, no!
Her daughter blinked rapidly. “You think I’m boring. And careful.”
“Not boring. Careful, maybe. Caring, definitely.” Maybe this conversation had been a mistake. She wasn’t in a position to help or influence even if she wanted to, and generally she was of the opinion that a person had the complete right to mess up their own lives free of interference. But this was her daughter. “You care deeply about those close to you and you always put their happiness first. You were the same as a child.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“It can be bad if it means people take advantage of you. If something needs doing, they know you’ll do it.” And suddenly it came to her. The answer. It wasn’t interference if you gently nudged someone in a particular direction. They still had choice. “And because I know you’ll do what people need you to do, I’m going to ask one more thing of you.” She didn’t need to extend this uncomfortable conversation, she simply needed to manipulate the situation to achieve the outcome she wanted.
“You told me I should start saying no,” Liza said, “and now you’re asking me to do something else?”
“Yes,” Kathleen said. “Selfish of me, I know, but I need someone to help me out with this. I should have asked you sooner.” If she’d thought of it, she would have. She’d been tackling this the wrong way. “Would you check on Popeye a couple of times when I’m away?”
“I thought you said someone was feeding him?”
“They are, but you know Popeye. He’s an independent soul, and I’ve never left him for this long. I’d be happier if I knew someone I trust is keeping an eye on him. Maybe giving him a cuddle.” She sent a silent apology to Popeye who, generally speaking, wasn’t big on cuddles. Any guilt she felt at exploiting Liza’s good nature and sense of responsibility, was diluted by the fact that her request was in a good cause.
“I’ll try, but the girls are busy and there is no way we’re leaving them after what happened last time—”
“Why not go alone? Leave Sean to keep an eye on the girls. You might enjoy it. There is nothing like an early morning walk on the beach when you’re the only one there. Sometimes I take my coffee down there and sit on the sand.”
“You do?” Liza glanced at her. “I didn’t know that.”
“Now you’re going to tell me it sounds like a risky undertaking.”
“I think it sounds blissful. I’d give a lot to have a peaceful half hour on the beach with no one around.”
“Then do it. Spend the weekend at the cottage. Have some time to yourself. Why not?”
“Well, because—” Liza frowned. “I never go anywhere by myself. We do everything together.”
And that, Kathleen thought, was the problem.
She worked hard at looking pathetic. “I wouldn’t ask, but I’m worried about Popeye, the dear soul.”
“I know he means a lot to you.” The traffic started moving and Liza eased the car forward. “I promise I’ll keep an eye on Popeye. Although I won’t be responsible if he runs off.”
“He never runs off. He goes exploring, but then he always comes home.”
Liza smiled. “I never realized before how alike the two of you are.”
“Indeed. All I need is the freedom to roam.” It wasn’t so far from the truth. “If you go to the cottage for the weekend, don’t bother shopping and cooking. There’s a wonderful deli in the village that opened recently. Tell them you’re my daughter. And if you walk a mile down the beach, the Tide Shack makes a wonderful burger. The salty fries are spectacular.”
“Your diet is shocking, Mother.” But this time Liza was laughing, not lecturing. The traffic had finally eased and they were now only minutes from the airport. “Please try and eat the occasional vegetable or piece of fruit when you’re in the US.”