22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

C leo had awoken to a stomach tied in knots, and the feeling hadn’t left her in the hours since. Today was the day. She’d refused breakfast, her tummy too queasy to force anything into it. The owners of the cabins came to bid them farewell, a satisfied look on their faces as they took in the fertility plant she held. Cleo couldn’t get away fast enough.

Clark had been as quiet on this last part of their drive as she was. Now that their game was over, they hadn’t spoken much, their usual camaraderie absent. Cleo didn’t know if that was because Clark was allowing her some space to prepare for what was to come, or if he felt awkward, after his admission in the dark last night about getting to spend more time with her. An admission that she hadn’t had a chance to reciprocate.

It was 11:00 am and they were at last in San Antonio. Clark said he had nowhere pressing to be and would be happy to take Cleo where she needed to go, so she’d put the address she memorized into his GPS, and they found themselves in the northwestern quadrant of the city. Clark parked on the street outside an ochre apartment complex, its paint peeling in the Texas sunshine. He cut the engine and looked to Cleo, who was glued to her seat, her hand frozen halfway between her lap and the handle.

“Want me to come with you?” His words took several seconds to register, and then she surprised herself by nodding. She’d thought she wanted to do this alone, but now that she was here she realized she couldn’t. She didn’t know if she’d even be able to get out of the car with him, let alone without him. She was grateful when he came around the car and opened her door, taking her hand and tugging her up. He wasn’t going to let her chicken out, and knowing that he was there made this a little easier. Now that she was faced with meeting her mom for the first time in twenty years, she couldn’t do it alone. She needed support from a trusted friend, and for some reason she trusted Clark.

Cleo smoothed down her shirt and found the gate to the courtyard, scanning the doors until she saw the number she was seeking. The white door with the black 115 on it was on the first floor in the corner. She took a tentative step toward it and then felt Clark’s reassuring press of his hand on her lower back, propelling her forward. She could do this.

“I’m right here,” he murmured. It was enough to calm her nerves for the moment. The apartment she was aiming for had a faded flower wreath over the door knocker, and a welcome mat that had seen better days. While a little shabby, it didn’t look dirty or unkempt, just old. Cleo inhaled deeply before raising her hand to knock. Half a minute passed with no movement, and Cleo nearly lost her nerve. Just as she was about to turn away, Clark stepped forward and knocked several more times. She half hoped they’d need to come back later and took a step backward, just as the door opened as far as the chain would allow. A middle-aged man with balding hair peered out.

“Can I help you?” he asked. Cleo attempted a reply, but her voice wouldn’t work.

Clark stepped closer and said, “Hello, yes, we’re here to see….” He looked to Cleo for help supplying the name.

“Patty,” she croaked.

“Patty,” Clark confirmed.

The man scrutinized Clark first, then shifted his attention to Cleo. She felt exposed and glanced down to confirm that she was still, in fact, wearing clothes. After studying her for longer than was comfortable, he said, “Who’s wondering?”

Cleo had given some thought as to how she was going to introduce herself to Patty. She hadn’t counted on a stranger asking her this question, however, so she just said the first thing that popped into her head. “I’m a friend of the family.” Cleo didn’t know which family this person might think she was referring to, but it likely wasn’t Cleo’s family. Who knew what this man, whoever he was, knew about Patty’s past? She prayed he would believe she only had good intentions and would allow her to see Patty.

The man finally replied, “Patty isn’t here.” Cleo’s stomach dropped until he quickly added, “But Tina might be able to help you. She’s resting, but she’s been in there a little while. I can check if she’s awake.” He shut the door in their faces and left them waiting outside for several minutes. Cleo felt Clark’s eyes on her, but she focused on the green petals of the wreath in front of her, tethering herself to the plastic plant as if its vines would reach out and ground the emotions pinging around inside her like a pinball machine. Who was Tina? What was her relationship to Patty? Did Patty not live here after all, or was she just not here right now? She had so many questions that she prayed this Tina would be able to answer.

At last they heard the chain falling away, and the door opened to the man ushering them inside. The house was dark and cool, with no pictures on the hallway walls they passed through, as they followed him into a small living room filled wall to wall with furniture.

Cleo’s gaze was immediately drawn to the woman sitting in a faded pink armchair in the corner of the room opposite them. She had a hard time guessing her age. There was a youthfulness about the woman’s face, but her body was small and shriveled, giving her the appearance of a much older woman. She had dark hair streaked with gray that was braided all the way down her back, and she was examining Cleo through slitted eyes like she was a winged creature behind the glass of a bottle.

“Jimmy says you’re a friend of Patty’s,” the woman said in a gravelly voice that didn’t seem to match the body it came out of.

Cleo wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “I’m more a friend of Patty’s family,” she finally answered.

“Patty doesn’t have any family, leastwise none that would come here.”

Cleo knew this could get tricky quickly, so she moved to the couch next to the chair and sat. “Are you Patty’s family?” she asked.

“I’m more family to her than anyone who shares blood with her.”

“And your name is Tina?”

“It is. What’s your name?”

Cleo hesitated. Would Tina recognize her name? Claudette was such a unique name; she’d never met another one her entire life. But maybe Patty hadn’t ever talked about her. “I’m Cleo,” she said simply.

“Cleo.” The woman wrinkled her nose as she said it, like it tasted bitter in her mouth.

“How do you know Patty, Tina?”

“We’ve been roommates and friends for a long time.”

“So, Patty lives here?”

“She–” the woman broke off the sentence as a key moved in the front door lock and it creaked open.

Clark was still standing in the doorway between the hall and the living room. He stepped into the room as a woman’s voice asked, “Who are you?”

Jimmy paused next to Clark and said, “Ah, you’re back.” Cleo shot out of her seat, spun around once, looked for somewhere to hide, and realized two things at the same time: 1. She was not ready to meet her mom, and 2. She didn’t have a choice, because there was nowhere to go. She was a winged creature caught in a bottle, flapping her wings against the glass to no avail. She backed up anyway, her calves hitting the couch and forcing her to sit back down next to Tina’s chair. Tina’s head whipped between Cleo and Clark as the woman materialized in the doorway.

She had shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair that she tucked behind one ear while studying Clark. Cleo guessed her to be about forty-five, though the chunky white glasses on her face could make that number swing up or down by five years. She looked to be a little shorter than Cleo, and was of a similar build. Cleo stood again without realizing it and blurted, “Patty?” before she could keep the word in.

The woman finally looked toward her, and when she did, she stumbled back several feet. Jimmy put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her as her eyes scanned Cleo from crown to pedicure. She took one tentative step forward, then another, her hand coming up in front of her like it was unconsciously trying to reach out and touch Cleo. She dropped it as she reached Cleo, her eyes wide and full of disbelief.

“Claudy?” she asked. “Is that you?”

Claudy ? A memory sparked in Cleo’s mind at the sound of that name. She remembered being very small, playing Barbies in a bubblegum pink room that Cleo realized was painted white today, the art room her father had fashioned for her. A high voice called, “Claudy!” from another room as Cleo turned and saw a face she adored. A beautiful woman with long, blonde hair ran toward her and scooped her up in her arms, squeezing her to her chest and twirling her in circles. “Claudy!” she said again.

And then the memory faded like a plug pulled on it. That memory had been lying dormant somewhere in her mind, waiting for the right moment or word to draw it out.

Cleo’s eyes focused once again on the present. An older version of the woman from the memory stood before her now. “Mom?” she asked. “Is that you?”

The woman’s hand flew to her mouth before reaching out and touching Cleo’s hair. It moved down her cheek and cupped her chin, turning her head one way then another. Her head tilted as she finished her examination, and Cleo noticed tears pooling in the woman’s eyes. A drop on her cheek confirmed that matching tears had formed on Cleo’s face. She blinked to clear her vision and swiped the drops away. Her heart was pumping a rapid rhythm that only seemed to crescendo as she realized that this was the woman she’d driven 1,800 miles to see. She was here, in the flesh, no longer only a part of her imagination.

Cleo could see herself in the woman’s features; from her small ears to her pert nose. It was a little like looking in a mirror that showed yourself two decades into the future. Cleo wouldn’t mind looking just like that twenty years from now.

Her mom–Patty? What should she call her?–said, “I don’t understand what’s happening. What is going on right now? How did you find me?”

Cleo chewed her lip and considered what to say. Any explanation she’d prepared for this moment went out of her head and she answered, “It was Bernice.”

Patty jumped a little. “Bernice? My replacement, Bernice?” Cleo started. It was odd that her mother referred to her ex-step-mother as her replacement.

“What do you mean, your replacement?”

Patty glanced at Tina before she said, “We have a lot to talk about.” Cleo had nearly forgotten there were other people in the room. She noticed that Clark was still standing by the other couch, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Jimmy was gone, but Tina had remained sunken into her chair, looking like she could disappear forever into its folds.

Clark cleared his throat. “I’m just going to…go for a walk.” His gaze met Cleo’s for a moment before he pulled his hands out of his pockets and sauntered out of the room. Cleo barely registered him leaving before her mom pulled her down onto the couch next to her, the pattern of roses enveloping them.

“Are you hungry?” Patty queried. “Or thirsty?” Cleo shook her head. “You’re so beautiful,” she added as she continued to examine Cleo. "How much do you know about me and your father?"

"I know nothing."

Then Patty rubbed her palms along her pants. “I guess we should get this over with then.”

Get this over with ? Cleo could think of a few different ways of saying that. Regardless, her mom let out a deep breath and then said, “I’m not quite sure where to start.”

“The beginning is usually a good place.”

“Yes, but the beginning of what? There were so many beginnings, and most of them not good. But you’re right. Best to just start at a beginning and go back and fill in the gaps later.”