Lost Along the Way(11)

five


Cara stood over the kitchen sink at her mother’s house with a wrench in her hand, trying to figure out how to make the leaking water stop. “I know,” she muttered to herself as she slammed the wrench on the faucet in frustration, the clanging sound so loud it actually made her jump. The water continued to drip, and drip, and drip. Finally she flung the wrench on the counter, admitting that she hadn’t the first damn clue what to do with it, no matter how many hours of HGTV she watched, and covered her cheeks with her hands. The millionth droplet escaped from the faucet and dribbled down the basin, and she wished for the millionth time that just like the water she too could slink into the drain and disappear forever.

When her mother died, four months ago on a steamy day in June, Cara had assumed she’d have her husband, Reed, with her when it came time to dismantle her childhood home. She glanced around at the empty kitchen, the dusty shelves, the vacant cabinets, and once again stifled the ever-present urge to cry. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She was too young to be rendered an orphan. She had taken her mother to every doctor in the Northeast looking for alternative treatments and medicines. She’d even gone to church and prayed—on her knees—and she hadn’t been in a church in almost twenty years. It seemed like a waste of her too precious time, and she spent too much time on her knees washing floors and dusting baseboards and folding laundry to volunteer to do it in church. She was only thirty-seven years old and had somehow dusted away her youth, or folded it up like one of Reed’s shirts, tucked neatly in a drawer next to his socks. With every shirt she folded and every dish she washed, she forgot a little more, and a little more, until she didn’t remember anything about the girl she used to be. She had no idea who she was anymore, or how the hell she’d allowed any of this to happen.

She liked to think that her mother never knew how bad things were between her and Reed, but Cara was beginning to wonder if maybe she wasn’t as good at hiding things as she thought she was. Not long before her mother died they’d been sitting watching daytime talk shows and chatting about a house that had recently come on the market. Her mother hadn’t brought up Jane or Meg in years, but for some reason she’d decided it was time to discuss the subject that Cara had placed off-limits a long time ago.

“I think you should reach out to the girls,” her mother said, seeming so frail under the blankets, the shadows under her eyes making her look impossibly pale. It had been just the two of them since Cara’s father abandoned them when Cara was three. She honestly had no idea how she was going to exist in this world without her mom, either. “I don’t want to even think about you being alone after I’m gone.”

“What do you mean alone? I have Reed,” Cara said, choking out the words.

“You do?” Her mother scoffed.

“We all have our limitations,” Cara whispered. She believed that the secrets of marriage should be kept secret. Even from her mother. Especially from her mother.

“Hmmm. That’s a good euphemism. You stick with that when you’re talking to people who don’t know any better. Just don’t think for a minute that I’m one of them.”

“Mom, we don’t have to talk about this. Really. I’m fine.”

“Promise me you’ll try to make things right with them. I need to know that you’ll reach out to them when the time comes. Don’t let your anger with them overpower your love for them. It’s not a good way to live. Promise me.”

“Okay. I’ll try. When the time comes, I promise I’ll try. Now can we please talk about something else?” The truth was, Cara had been thinking about Meg and Jane both a lot lately. She tried not to wonder about how different things would be if they were still around, or if they could’ve helped her though this awful time. They certainly couldn’t have made anything worse. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. According to the news reports, Jane’s life was in total chaos, and chaos was the last thing Cara needed.

They’d gone back to watching TV and Cara had tried not to think any more about her mother’s request. Shortly thereafter, she was gone, and even though Cara was married, her mother had done what no mother should ever do to a child she loved.

She left her alone.

Reed went with her to the funeral, but that was the only effort he made to support her. After the public mourning period was over, he didn’t lift a finger to help her get her mother’s affairs in order. He didn’t go with her to meet with the executor of the estate; he didn’t offer to help her deal with the sale of the house or pack up her mother’s clothes and personal belongings. She remembered that Jane and Meg used to be jealous of her for being an only child, and would tease her for her tendency to get whatever she wanted. Only-child syndrome, they called it. What they didn’t realize was that the syndrome doesn’t just mean that you get what you want; it also means that you get what you don’t want—like the sole responsibility for clearing out your mother’s house after she’s gone.

Cara wondered if maybe she’d be able to manage her grief better if she had someone to help her though it, but her husband didn’t seem to think that it was his job. In his mind, it was her responsibility to deal with her emotions and soldier on as if nothing had happened, to lock her feelings away and show a brave face to the world. That was how the people in his family dealt with hardships. It probably explained why his sister had been married three times and his mother was addicted to sleeping pills.