Cracks in the Sidewalk(32)

With the meanness in Jeffrey there’s no telling what he’ll do. Taking Liz’s babies from her is way beyond having a lack of love. It’s a cruelty that’s nearly impossible to measure. Any mother understands that; how can she not? A mother would sooner give up her right arm than one of her babies. I know, because that’s how I feel about Elizabeth.

Long before Liz was born, I made plans for all the things she might do. I dreamt about her first day of school, her recitals, her graduation, her wedding day, and even the babies she would someday have—all this before I even held her in my arms. So is it any wonder that Liz should feel the same about her babies?

The worst part of any day is when Liz starts thinking about how much she misses the children. One minute she’ll be laughing about something the kids have said or done, then all of a sudden she’ll sink into an unmistakable gloominess. If I ask what’s wrong, she’ll say nothing. She pretends nothing is wrong, and I pretend to believe her. I suppose it’s a way to get through the day without both of us falling apart.

Even though I try to stay strong and positive-minded for Liz, there are days I feel I’m losing the battle. I don’t talk about those times, just as I don’t mention the ugly things Jeffrey says and does. I know I promised to be more forthcoming with the truth, but what good would it do for Liz? She already has more than enough to contend with.

I keep thinking back to the men who dumped those bags in our driveway. I wanted to chase down the truck and tell those men they’d burn in hell for the awful thing they did. Then I realized they were just the messengers. Jeffrey was the one responsible, and I couldn’t do anything to get back at him. That’s why I cried the way I did, because of the anger and frustration. I wasn’t just crying about the clothes, I was crying over the hundreds of hurts Liz has suffered and, if I’m really honest, also about some of my own.

Until that day I had hope Jeffrey would change his mind about bringing the kids to visit. I thought maybe he’d come by with her clothes, see how well she’s doing, and rethink everything. Now I know he’ll never do it. Not unless he’s forced to, which is why we’re gonna need a lawyer.





Three days later

By the time Charles returned from his business trip, Claire was firmly entrenched in her decision to go after Jeffrey. For several months he’d doled out bits of hope, promising to bring the children and disappointing Elizabeth time after time. Now he no longer pretended. Claire knew unless they did something drastic, Liz would never again see her children.

Claire still hadn’t mentioned the red car in Jeffrey’s garage. Maybe he had a girlfriend; maybe not. It was possible the car belonged to a cleaning lady, a babysitter, or a buddy—possible maybe, but not probable. Something about the drawn shades and the figures moving about the bedroom said Jeffrey was having an affair. But his affair wasn’t the real problem.

Claire simmered with things to tell Charlie, but after almost thirty years of marriage she’d learned not to pounce on him when he walked through the door so she said nothing except, “Hello, dear.”

He stopped, kissed her cheek, then asked about Liz.

“Doing much better. She did have one forgetful episode this week, but only for a minute or two. What’s more important is that I actually saw her move two fingers on her left hand. Not much, but a little bit. When I asked Liz to do it again, she couldn’t but I think that was mostly because she was pressuring herself.”

“That’s good, right?” Charlie replied. “Isn’t it an indication her paralysis is—”

“Not necessarily. I called Doctor Sorenson’s office and told them Liz had some movement in those two fingers, but the nurse said that’s not unusual. Apparently at some point the left side of the brain starts to compensate for the right’s lack of function and starts sending movement commands. The nurse said it’s not something you can force, it happens when it happens.”

“But just the fact that it’s happening, isn’t that what’s important? Anyway, has Jeffrey brought the kids to visit yet?”

Claire, busy breading a chicken cutlet, gave a cynical glance. “Of course not. But we’ll get to that later.”

Although no one mentioned Jeffrey at the dinner table, he was on everyone’s mind. Claire knew what she had to say, but it had to wait until Elizabeth wasn’t around. Liz knew firsthand the ugliness of her husband’s behavior, but hearing it only deepened the wound.

Once she cleared the dinner table and helped Liz into bed, Claire approached Charlie.

“We need a lawyer,” she said.

“A lawyer?” He peered across the top of the newspaper.

“Yes.” Claire lowered herself into the chair facing his. “I went to see JT thinking I might convince him to be more reasonable. Liz calls and pleads to see the kids. He says okay, he’ll bring them on Sunday. She waits all week, and when he doesn’t come or call she spends the day crying. Now that she’s doing better, I thought he’d at least let her see the kids.”

“And?”

“He won’t. It’s worse than ever. Jeffrey said he’d sooner burn in hell than let any one of us see the kids. He pushed me down the steps and slammed the door in my face.”

Charles set the newspaper aside. “Pushed you down the steps?” he repeated quizzically.