Cracks in the Sidewalk(41)

I suppose he can’t comprehend the meaning of a close family. He distrusts everybody and thinks if somebody does something good, they’re after something. His parents are that way too. His mom reminds me of an icy statue. She’s totally aloof and has no use whatsoever for children of any size. I guess that’s why he’s the way he is.

I know I should feel a ton of hatred for Jeffrey, and plenty of times I do. Other times, I actually feel sorry for him. You’d think he has nothing but meanness inside of him. But truthfully, I think that meanness is just his way of covering up the hurt. With all the time I spend lying in bed, I’ve given this a lot of thought.

It’s impossible for me to forget how close Jeffrey and I once were and how many thousands of times he’s said how much he loved me. That’s why I find it hard to believe his heart is as callused as he pretends. I think he’s afraid to face the fact that I’m dying, so he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care. I pray Jeffrey comes to his senses while I’m still alive because if he lets this drag on until after I die, the guilt of it will haunt him for the rest of his life.

The sad truth is that I am going to die. I know it. I’m not giving up, I’m simply being realistic. I can feel this thing pressing against the inside of my brain again, and over the past two weeks the headaches have started coming back. I haven’t told anyone yet, not even Mother. Before I tell her I want to talk to Doctor Sorenson and see what she has to say about it. She’s the one person who will tell me the truth, even if it isn’t what I want to hear. I believe she’s fighting this thing almost as hard as I am.

For several months I was getting better; it felt almost like the tumor was gone. I’m still taking the chemotherapy treatments, but something has changed. I worry that one of these days I might slide into an awful oblivion and never come back. What if I never have a chance to say goodbye to the people I love? That thought scares me the most.

Every night I ask God to please let me spend some time with my babies before I lose what’s left of my mind. I want to be able to tell each of them how very special they are and how much I love them. Tomorrow I think I’ll write each of them a long letter that they can keep after I’m gone—but of course, a letter is nowhere near as sweet as whispering those things in your child’s ear.





Several Weeks Later


Judge Brill began sorting through his mail, a stack of documents that would have been half the size were it not for frivolous actions and over-zealous lawyers—lawyers who thought delaying tactics could enable their clients to get away with almost anything. After two hours into the task he came across the envelope from Doctor Peter Belleau.

“About time,” the judge grumbled. He slit the envelope open and thumbed through the contents.

“Elizabeth Caruthers appears extremely well-adjusted given the prevailing circumstances,” the first report read. It continued for almost two pages and ended with, “Based on my telephone interview of Elizabeth, I have concluded that she exhibits deep and sincere feelings for her three children. It is therefore my recommendation that the court grant visitation as her request appears to be reasonable, well-intentioned, and without malice.”

The second report was on Charles.

“In a situation such as this it is not unusual for those involved to hold on to an unrealistic expectation of cure, which is precisely what Charles McDermott is doing. This expectation has pushed him into a state of denial regarding Elizabeth’s impending death. The court must therefore consider whether such a mindset might ultimately influence the three minor children and cause them to experience a higher level of anxiety at the time of their mother’s demise.”

The report stated that other than this singular concern, Doctor Belleau thought Charles even-tempered and genuinely concerned about his grandchildren’s welfare.

Claire’s report followed.

“Claire McDermott exhibits the behavioral tendencies of a mother bear defensive of her cub. Although there has been an incident of violence I believe that to be an isolated occurrence, precipitated by the son-in-law’s aggressive behavior toward Elizabeth. Claire does harbor considerable animosity toward Jeffrey Caruthers, but I am confident that her devotion and fierce loyalty to her daughter and the three children will prevent this anger from adversely influencing those relationships.”

When Judge Brill finished reading the report on Claire, he began looking for what Doctor Belleau had to say about Jeffrey Caruthers. Twice he rifled through the papers, and twice he came up empty-handed. Judge Brill had no tolerance for inefficiency, so he lifted the receiver and dialed Peter Belleau’s office.

“Where’s my report on Jeffrey Caruthers?” he growled. “I got your other reports, but there was nothing on Caruthers.”

“Well,” Belleau said, “we’ve got a problem there.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Mister Caruthers canceled the first two appointments we had and was a no-show for the third. I’ve tried to reschedule, but he doesn’t return my calls.”

“We’ll see about that!” Judge Brill growled and slammed down the receiver.

The judge chewed three maximum-strength Tums and then placed a call to Noreen Sarnoff.

“Counselor,” he said firmly, “I hope you can explain why your client has failed to show up for the psychologist’s evaluation ordered by this court.”