10. Not for The First Time

Not for The First Time

M ara

I woke up slowly, cocooned in the warmth of Zale’s strong embrace. Olivia woke up raring to go.

“Are we going to Gran-gran’s first?”

Zale answered, his voice warm and sleepy in my ear. “Yes, but not for another couple of hours. Gran-gran is not ready for company yet. Mommy has to get ready, so do I, and so do you, or were you planning to go in your pajamas?” he teased, “Do you want to eat first then shower? Or shower and then eat?”

“Of course, I don’t want to go in my pajamas,” she answered seriously. “I will eat first, then shower.”

We got up and puttered around the kitchen, the sweet routine of weekend mornings a balm to my battered soul, which despite the healing of his touch the night before, still stung.

In fact, I always felt like I was functioning with exposed nerves lately. All the emotions, all the time, swirling millimeters beneath the surface, threatening to break through, as if a thin film of ice were the only thing keeping the lava pool of my emotions in check. Anger, sadness, shame, fear, joy, love, longing, yearning, hope, regret, resentment, pity, frustration, compassion, tenderness, desire, guilt… it was a boiling cesspool of quicksand, sucking me under, spitting me back out.

I had been so looking forward to my appointment with the psychiatrist, hoping for a ready solution, but I was really no further ahead. Surely counselling would help. Maybe we needed marriage counselling.

Maybe not.

Things didn’t feel nearly so dire after last night. Maybe we just needed more time together and I’d be fine. We just needed to get back on track .

We got ready for a day of visiting, first to Bea, who lived in Bayview Village, then we backtracked past our place to Dean and Sophie’s.

Going to visit Bea was always better with Zale along. He was a stronger buffer than Olivia, Bea was always on her best behavior when Zee was there. The snide comments, sweetly voiced, that she could get away with when Olivia was there, would in no way get past Zale.

In a way it pissed me off. I knew that he believed me when I relayed to him the things she said and did, but even I could see how hard it would be to believe in light of her performances. None of what I told him ever showed when he was there. Not once in the twenty years that we’d been together had she slipped.

It even made me question myself. If it wasn’t for Willa’s certainty, and Bex’s reactions to what I told her, I’d think I was insane.

I didn’t kid myself, it still seemed like a legitimate possibility.

I hung back a bit as Zale and Olivia approached Bea’s door and knocked. Olivia tucked her hand inside her dad’s, her hair was a mess of curls. She wore leggings and a long-sleeved tee printed with flying birds under her heavy coat. Although she conceded to wear her coat, we could not convince her to do it up.

Zee looked good in his jeans, better even than he looked in his suits, and that was saying something. I liked him like this. He stood relaxed, legs slightly braced, his thick thighs filling out the worn denim. He twisted to look for me and I caught sight of his stubbled chin, the dark shadow of his unshaven face highlighting his dark eyes.

I drank him in. I wanted that stubble to burn me. I could almost feel it. My eyes wandered back to find his, studying me back, his eyes crinkled. Knowing. I laughed.

I wondered what it felt like to know you were wanted like that. Sharp pain extinguished my laughter and the door opened.

Bea swung the door wide, beaming up at Zale. “How’s my favorite son-in-law?”

His mouth tipped up on one side in his signature half smile. “I’m your only son-in-law.”

He dipped to offer her his cheek and she replied, “Even if there were ten, you’d still be my favorite!”

She turned to Olivia. “Come to Gran-gran, darling. Give me a kiss.”

“No kisses, Gran-Gran, just hugs,” Olivia reminded her.

“Oh, that’s right. Silly Gran-Gran. Give me a big hug, then.”

Olivia was hugged and released, and then my mother turned to me.

I felt the sudden urge to retreat. Repulsed, the last thing I wanted at that moment was my mother’s arms around me, or her kiss on my cheek. The air was thick with deceit, she was a fraud, and I was trapped. I hated to feel trapped .

She’d dressed up for our visit, wearing her signature sapphire earrings, her hair curled, and her face perfectly made up. All decked out in designer dress pants and a silk blouse, this display was for Zale’s benefit. I believe the point she wished to make was that I didn’t get my frumpiness from her. She turned her too bright eyes in my direction.

“And how is my baby?”

I dutifully leaned over so she could kiss my cheek and gave her the best hug I could muster considering the mix of emotions I was currently attempting to contain. Though I knew how she normally was, and I fully understood this show was for Zale, something needy inside me responded to the facade of care and acceptance she was exhibiting.

I sickened myself.

Olivia came bouncing back over with her card and I welcomed the interruption.

In the kitchen, I started the coffee and unpacked the chocolate eclairs, her favorites, that we had picked up from the bakery around the corner. As I put them on a plate I contemplated the reason everyone else in my life got home-baked goods and she got store bought. Every time I brought something over that I baked, she critiqued it, suggested a way to better it, or raved about something someone else made for her.

Food was love in my economy .

She rejected mine.

She didn’t get it anymore.

She came bustling into the kitchen and Olivia headed to the couch to cuddle up next to her dad. Olivia liked weight on her, and those two had perfected the art of sitting together in such a way that Olivia got the compression she craved, and Zale got the cuddles he treasured.

“Mara, dear, let me get that. You guys work all week and I’ve got no responsibilities. At least let me serve you when you’re here.”

I swung around and met her wide, innocent eyes with my incredulous ones. Something cracked in her mask for a moment before it slipped back into place.

“It’s okay,” I answered drily. “I’ve got it.”

“Well! You do spoil me! I’m very grateful for both of you. Zale,” she called, “would you like your eclair in there with your coffee?”

“I’ll be right back,” I muttered.

I headed for the bathroom, the sudden wave of fury rising up my gullet threatened to spew out all over her. My breath rasped in and out rapidly and my heart pounded in my chest as the doctor’s words reverberated in my head, ‘family of origin.... borderline personality… look it up and see what you think… sad your whole life…. Do you hurt yourself? … you have moods… identity issues… I see it in your eyes… you’ve been in pain a long time… ’

My hand that twisted the lock on the door of the bathroom shook, and my body vibrated with unspent emotion. Safely behind the closed door, I turned to wash my hands, needing to do something while I was in there. The rivulets of cool water running over my hands centered me. I trained my gaze on the paths the water took, the feel of the expensive soap, the scent of honey and lavender, the cold water cooling my temper.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…

I reminded myself I was there for Olivia.

I reminded myself that being there with Zale was easier.

I reminded myself I was going to start counselling soon and I assured myself I could hold on until then. I could be calm, not for Bea, but for Olivia. My breathing returned to normal, my body calmed. I dried my hands and went back to the kitchen where I played my mother’s game.

After an hour of small talk and letting her rail against Abby and the ‘old biddies who couldn’t do anything right if they had two right hands’, we were able to leave. It helped that Olivia was excited, wanting to make the next stop on our list of deliveries.

In the car I breathed out a sigh of relief. Olivia had her headphones on and sang away to her most recent downloads. I stared out the passenger side window as we drove away.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Zale commented.

“It was fine. ”

There was really no way to explain.

“I’m not saying your mom is easy, or that she doesn’t say crazy things,” he explained, “I just think she’s not all that smart and it shows in the insensitive things she says and does sometimes.”

“Maybe.”

“She’s your mom, we have to be good to her. We don’t have to agree with what she says, in fact, I don’t. I think she’s loco, but if we can visit a lonely old lady, bring some happiness to her day, that’s good, right?”

I sighed, turned to face front. “I suppose so.”

He glanced at me sideways. “You’re not convinced.”

“You’re not the one she targets.”

“True,” he acknowledged with a dip of his chin.

Thankfully, we tabled the discussion about Bea for another day and headed out to Dean and Sophie’s which would be infinitely more fun.

We rambled up the unpaved lane to Dean and Sophie’s sprawling white brick ranch. Three border collies came barreling down the drive, their tails wagging like flags. They loved company, and they loved Sophie, not in that order. Dean’s favorite, though, was a long-eared, droopy-lipped basset hound puppy he adopted from the animal shelter a few months back in retaliation when he failed to lure even one of Sophie’s furry minions over to his side. She didn’t mind.

Dean and Sophie’s place was a postcard. They lived on the outskirts of Bridgewater surrounded by seven acres of trees and field with a stream passing through their property linking them to their neighbors on both sides. Their driveway was a laneway off a concession road twenty minutes north of our place.

At the end of the laneway, a cleared pathway bisected their snow-covered front lawn and led up to a wide front porch that hosted a pair of weathered rocking chairs all year round. They had a small barn off to the side where Sophie had kept chickens and angora rabbits when her kids were younger.

They all started out as school projects, either for her own kids, or projects she’d set up for the special needs kids she used to teach. An incubator with hatching baby chicks one year led to a chicken coop, classroom rabbits required a hutch, and so it went until Dean finally broke down and built her a barn, complaining all the while about the petting zoo he was financially supporting. The truth was he’d give her anything, including the pair of pygmy goats she rescued with their donkey bodyguard.

Zale and I had dreamed of having a place like this one day. Having Olivia altered our course. To isolate her further than she already was naturally, seemed like a bad idea. When we visited, Zale often walked the property with Dean and the dogs, returning relaxed and at ease .

Dean was four years older than Zale. Shorter and thicker than Zale, and still lean and fit at fifty, Dean still looked like the boxer he used to be in his twenties and early thirties. That’s how he met Sophie. She had a bloodthirsty side and attended all the events at the local boxing club.

Eventually, so the story went, after asking her out numerous times and being shot down, she agreed to a small wager. He challenged the top-rated fighter, one who hadn’t yet been beaten by anyone in the club, to a fight. If he won, Sophie had to go out with him, just once. If he lost, he would never ask her out on a date again.

I asked him once what he would have done if he lost.

He laughed. “I was going to propose.”

He was unstoppable. Sophie never stood a chance, for which she was profoundly grateful.

The dogs followed us inside. There was no knocking on the door at Dean and Sophie’s. They expected us to walk in, and we did. Sophie claimed they’d lock the door if they wanted a heads-up, otherwise come on in.

Sophie was the most interesting looking woman I’d ever seen. Tall and thin, her wide set eyes were a soft mossy green, and her face was lightly freckled. She had high, cut cheekbones, a narrow nose, a wide, smiling, mouth and a pointy chin. She was not classically beautiful, and taken separately, her features were not unusual, but put together and framed by her wild mane of frizzy strawberry blond hair, she was nothing short of arresting. Her stunning face was the least of her charms. She was pure gold.

She heard the dogs and came rushing to the front door, her face split with a wide smile. One brisk clap of her hands served to quiet the dogs. Olivia’s headphones were on with her music, but the high-pitched barking was a major stressor that Sophie was quick to alleviate.

As soon as Sophie acknowledged them, they headed back out to the porch to chew on their bones and bask in the winter sun. They were indoor dogs, but they liked their outdoor time, too, and they needed it. Border collies are too smart, and if allowed to get bored, they easily found trouble.

Sophie did weekly agility training with them, and occasional dog shows on the weekends, yet another project left over from when her kids were still at home. She was insatiably curious and had boundless energy.

Sophie was a blast, I loved her, and so did Olivia. When we first understood the challenges Olivia would face, Sophie was with us. She accompanied me to doctor’s appointments when Zale couldn’t be there. She helped me design a homeschool curriculum when it became evident that a classroom environment would be too stressful for Olivia. When Olivia was younger, Sophie came over once a week for years, helped me review curriculum options, gave me a chance to take a long, leisurely shower, had lunch with me, and she always, always brought dinner for us on those days .

Before Olivia, Zale and I used to take their two kids for the weekend once a month so she and Dean could have time. I’d also worked side by side with her in her gardens, teaching her everything I knew. Her flower beds rivalled mine for beauty and her vegetable plots had long since overtaken mine. All the ways we’d given to each other over the years had knit us close together.

Olivia never wanted to stay over at their place. There had always been too much activity, especially when their kids were teens and their house was filled with their friends, but she loved to visit. We all did.

I heard the back door creak open, and Dean bellowed from the back of the house. “Zee, come around the back. Bring the dogs.”

Zale grinned at me, his face lit up. “Just going to grab my boots from the car and go walking with Dean.”

I smiled, happy to see him happy, and even happier to have Sophie to myself. She already had Olivia by the hand, leading her to the kitchen, where she was, no doubt, baking.

“Smells good in here.” I hummed as I caught up with them.

Olivia already perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. Lucy, Dean’s basset, was in her dog bed in the corner. It was a scene worthy of painting.

“Hang on. I’ll get Olivia to cut the bread for us. It’s fresh out of the oven. It’ll be awesome dripping with butter! ”

She grasped my hand as she flew by me, bringing it to her lips and kissing the back of it. She stopped abruptly, peering at me closely.

“Are you alright, Mara?”

Her soft, green eyes studied me silently. She could detect pain like a metal detector picked up bottle caps in a back alley. My heart rate kicked up. I didn’t want her to know. I especially didn’t want Dean to know and feel sorry for his younger brother.

“I’m okay!” I rushed to reassure her. “Struggling a bit lately for some reason. Emotionally. Just came from my mother. Zale is working a lot. He’s tired.”

“Ah, okay.”

That was Sophie. I could give her a bunch of disjointed phrases and she would give me understanding. The lie burned in my throat but the shame that kept me quiet burned hotter.

“You want to talk about it, any of it, I’m here. Whatever it is, it stays between us,” she said, indicating the invisible string that linked us.

Tears sprung to my eyes. Horrified, I beat them back. Sophie saw and turned at once to distract Olivia. It was just a minute, but it was all I needed. Thinking back on it later, it was her honest compassion that undid me.

“How is Gavin settling in? You mentioned he had some homesickness? ”

She laughed. “It was short-lived. He’s good, enjoying his first taste of freedom.”

I laughed with her. “I bet.”

Gavin, their youngest, was nineteen and off at university. He had a tough time the first semester, unused to the close quarters and the lack of privacy. Over the Christmas break he’d had time to regroup, and he’d gone back with a few tools in his mental tool chest.

Empathic, like his mom, black haired, blue eyed, and already heavily built like his dad, he was a smart kid, and adaptable. I knew he’d find his own way to cope.

“Yes, he joined the boxing league and made a few good friends. He has settled into the new semester quickly, he’s getting used to dorm life, and hasn’t run out of underwear yet, so all good.”

Gavin had his mother’s gift, his father’s looks, and his uncle’s demeanor. I’d always had a soft spot for him.

“And Derry?”

I adored Derry, a cloned version of her mother, but bigger on the inside, impossible as that was to imagine.

“You know Derry, if she doesn’t like something, she fixes it. If she can’t fix it, she crushes it.”

I laughed. “She looks like you, has your energy and charm, but her dad’s drive and persistence. She’s unstoppable. ”

“She’s almost finished school,” Sophie mused, “she’s never been at loose ends, and now, for the first time, she’s not sure what’s next. It’ll be an interesting summer, seeing her work that out.”

I hummed in agreement. Derry at loose ends could be a powder keg.

We ate fresh bread in Sophie’s warm kitchen. Sophie served up chunky homemade soup, more fresh bread, and wedges of cheese and apple when Dean and Zale came in from their walk.

Sophie was who I’d always wanted to be when I grew up. I admired her immensely. I’d fallen way short.

In the car on the way home, I sighed happily as she waved us off, standing on the porch beside Dean. Olivia buckled herself in the back, happy to have given out two of her cards, only two more to go, one to Bex and Rhys tomorrow, and one to Willa. Hopefully, she would be there tomorrow too.

“I love those guys.”

“Me too.”

“I wish I was more like Sophie.”

“Really?” Zale’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

“Of course!”

“I love her, don’t get me wrong.” He shook his head. “But I couldn’t handle that energy and chaos all the time. I like you, baby, just the way you are. Dean’s happy with his woman. He fought,” he laughed, “literally fought, for her. I’m happy with mine.”

I watched the winter landscape, cold and barren, slide past us out the window. It looked how I felt. What would it be like to be fought for? To be wanted that badly, worthy of any effort.

Not for the first time, I wished I had not chased Zale. I wished he’d been the one to chase me. Not for the first time, I wondered if it would have made a difference to the war constantly waging inside me.

Once home we undressed and got into pjs. Disney Plus streamed Olivia’s pick, and Zale passed out on the couch within minutes.

Not for the first time, I worried, was he tired or was he trying to escape? Once I worked up the courage, I would tell him about my appointment, and then I’d offer him the escape he might be seeking. It would almost be a relief to let him go. It was a terrible weight to be a disappointment, a burden. I could be free of that. I wondered if a broken heart would be worse than the pain of not being good enough. I knew it would. Losing him would be agony.

Still.

I owed it to him to give him an out.