“I think it’s the best fucking idea we’ve ever had.” I stare into her eyes, and she doesn’t look away. She stares at me right back, until the front door opens and it breaks the moment.
Sam walks into the living room, with her kitten in her arms. “Is my dad home?” she asks. She has Alex, Jake and Katie’s twelve-year-old son, with her.
“Yes, but he’s taking a nap,” Bess whispers. She lifts her index finger to her lips to tell Sam and Alex to be quiet.
“Chemo makes him really tired,” Sam says.
Bess and I make eye contact, but neither of us says a word. We couldn’t if we tried, because we don’t know what to say.
“He thinks I don’t know, but I saw his port, and the doctor left a message on our voicemail. Kerry-Anne doesn’t know though. She’s too little.” She looks like she takes immense pride in being the keeper of this secret.
“Oh,” Bess says. It’s more breath than word, because there are no words that fit this situation.
“Did he throw up?” Sam asks. “The last time he did chemo, he puked a lot.”
“He threw up in the car,” Bess admits sheepishly.
“Gross,” Sam says with a grimace.
“We’ll just let him sleep for a little while,” Bess says.
“Can Alex and I go to your house and use your laptop to order a few toys for Silas?” She lifts her cat up to show it to us, like we haven’t seen it before. “She’s bored.”
“Wait,” I say. “Isn’t that cat a girl?”
She nods.
“Then why are you calling her Silas?”
She shrugs. “Trixie named her.” She turns to face me. “So, can I go order some stuff?”
“Sure,” I say.
“Can I use your credit card, too?” she asks, a shit-eating grin on her face.
I chuckle. “Sure. Why not.” I roll my eyes in Bess’s direction, and she smiles at me. And I don’t know why but I feel like I just won the lottery.
I set Sam up with my computer, my credit card–which I might regret later on–and I tell her what her spending limit is. She already has the mailing address for the complex from the last order she placed, so she can get the cat toys shipped straight here. Then I go and clean up Aaron’s car. I think most of the mess got on his shirt because the car is not that bad.
I look up to find Bess watching me from the top step of the cabin. She gives me a wave and says, “Thank you for doing that. You really didn’t have to.” Her voice is soft, like she’s trying out words for the first time ever.
She has touched my arm, smiled at me, and now she’s making unprovoked communication in my direction. I don’t even know how to respond. But one thing I do know is that the little tiny kernel of hope that I had so deeply buried inside me has started to grow. It’s sprouting and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. It’s either going to rip me apart or build me up new. I just don’t know which.
22
Bess
After we feed the kids dinner at the big house, Katie turns to me and rubs her hands together. She squeals like she used to do when she was fifteen.
“What did I miss?” I ask. I walk around picking up empty paper plates and throwing them in the trash.
“What time are you going up to the field?” Katie asks, with no preamble. I stare at her for a second, trying to put her words into context, but I can’t.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“It’s movie night!” she cries, and I immediately know what she means.
Most people would assume that means going to their living room and watching a movie on their TV. But adults who grew up at Lake Fisher know that means that Mr. Jacobson is going to show a movie on the side of the big building on the hill. It’s the storage shed, and it’s a light color so it makes the perfect backdrop for a movie.
“Oh, movie night,” I say slowly. “I don’t know… I’m actually kind of tired.”
Kerry-Anne walks into the kitchen, stops at my hip, and looks up at me. “Can we go to movie night?” she asks. She does the same chafing motion of her hands that Katie just did as she dances in place.
“Did you check with Eli?” I ask her. He’s in charge of the kids. I’ve never been good with them.
Kerry-Anne nods emphatically. “He told me to ask you.”
I heave a sigh. “Let me talk to Eli and we’ll see.”
“Okay,” she says. She spins around and goes back into the living room with the other kids, where they are watching a game of blackjack between Mr. Jacobson and Gabby.
“Gabby’s a shark when it comes to cards,” Katie explains. “She beats him every time.”
Mr. Jacobson must hear her because he bellows from the other room, “I taught her everything she knows!”
Katie laughs. “That’s true. He did. They started playing cards the day they met, and they never did stop.” She sticks a bag of popcorn in the microwave oven and turns it on. “For the movie,” she says. She has six more bags ready on the counter.
“You and Jake seem so happy,” I say to her as I look around at her comfortable home. The open pantry shelves are stacked with board games, and there are dozens of family photos that adorn the walls. There’s even photos of her first husband—the one who died in Iraq—with their first three kids. “You have pictures of your first husband on the wall?” I raise my eyebrows at her.
“It’s important for the kids to have a visual reminder of their dad,” she says. “He’s gone, but he’ll never be forgotten.”
“Jake doesn’t get jealous?” I’m being nosy now. I know that.
She shakes her head. “He knew I’d been married when we got back together. My first husband and I were very happy together.” She gets a dreamy look on her face. “It’s a different kind of happy than what I have with Jake. I can’t explain it. It’s almost like it was a different life.”
A different life. That would be nice.
“How are you and Eli doing?” she asks me. She looks over her shoulder to be sure Eli is still in the living room with Jake.
I shake my head. “Same. No change.”
“Do you want to make it work with Eli?”
I have to think about that. Do I? When I arrived here a few days ago, I wouldn’t have cared if he died tomorrow. Today, I’m not sure I feel the same way. “Eli and I have gone through too much.”
“Like what?” she asks, her voice quiet and steady.
“Just…a lot. It’s not even something I can explain.” Nor do I want to. Ever. I don’t want to tell anyone about the devastation of not being able to carry a child to full term. No one understands how it feels to get pregnant, to even feel that stir of life, and then have it taken from you.
“Why did you and Eli stop trying?”
“To get pregnant?” I ask, astounded at her question.
“Well, that too,” she says. “But why did you stop trying to be married?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”