A Dropped Stitches Christmas (6 page)

“And you didn’t say a word to us?” Becca asks. “I told you everything.”

“We don’t have any rules,” Marilee stubbornly repeats what she said earlier.

By now, Joy has stopped eating and Quinn is looking at us all. I wouldn’t be surprised if the people at the counter are paying close attention to us as well. There’s enough tightly controlled emotion in Becca’s voice to make anyone want to look over here or, if not that, to at least get ready to duck and cover from where they sit.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

My words hang there as the Sisterhood seems to absorb them. Finally, I hear footsteps and look over to see Randy coming back to the table.

“Good news,” Randy says as he sits down. He looks at Joy. “I’ve got a place for you to stay for a few days. There’s a place called—” Randy stops and looks around. “Did I miss something?”

“Carly just told us that she’s worried that she and her parents might not be able to keep living with her uncle,” Marilee says quietly.

“Yeah, that’s why I mentioned the apartment over my diner. I can’t rent it to anyone because my customers make so much noise when they’re watching their sports games on television. But, if Carly didn’t mind that, she could stay there for a while. Her parents, too, if they need to.”

Becca looks at Randy. “She told you she was worried about the deal with her uncle?”

Randy nods and looks around in bewilderment.

“They’re just upset that it took me a long time to tell them,” I say.

In all the years I’ve been meeting with the Sisterhood, I’ve never disappointed them like this. Until it happened, I would have said I was so used to living with my mother’s disappointment that I could deal with anyone else’s as well. I would have been wrong to think that. I might not be so worried about cancer anymore, but the Sisterhood is still my lifeline.

“A half-truth is a whole lie.”

—Jewish proverb

B
ecca brought us this proverb to our meeting one night in the spring of the first year. We’d been talking about whether we wanted our doctors to tell us the whole truth or if we wanted them to hedge a little so we’d have more hope. Becca wanted her doctor to hit her with everything straight on. Ka-boom. She wanted it all. I said I would rather my doctor not tell me anything if he couldn’t give me some hope along with it. Becca and I were different even back then.

Becca respects the truth and that’s why she’ll make a good judge someday. I remind myself of that on Monday morning when I’m sitting in my advanced literature class. Dealing with things straight on is who Becca is. I should have known she would be the most upset.

Lizabett gave me a hug before I left The Pews yesterday and I know she doesn’t have any hard feelings. Lizabett knows how difficult it is to get things said sometimes. Even Marilee recovered from the surprise of what I told everyone and managed to look me in the eye before we left.

But Becca was still just-under-the-surface angry. I know she didn’t want to make me feel bad, but she barely managed to say goodbye before she left to drive Joy down to the place Randy had found.

Once Becca and Joy left The Pews yesterday, we all went home. I felt like I used to back in the days when I’d spend all day with doctors then come home tired. I crawled into bed early and I still felt weary when I got up this morning. Fortunately, I had my class so I made myself get dressed and leave the house.

My class ends before Lizabett’s psychology class does so I take the bus down Colorado to wait at The Pews for her. It’s one of our days for eating lunch together. It’s nice to have these times to count on.

Marilee is already at The Pews working on the diner’s books and ordering supplies for the week so she’ll probably come to our room at noon. Lizabett should be there by then as well. I doubt Becca will come. She usually has a meeting with the judge late mornings on Mondays and so she just takes a sandwich with her for lunch. Of course, now she probably wouldn’t come even if she didn’t have a meeting.

I sit down in the room and close the French doors. Lizabett left some of the Mary books on the shelf we have and so I pull one off.

I keep thinking about secrets as I leaf through the book. I can’t help but think about all the nights we met in this room behind these French doors. These doors have become symbolic to me in a way they wouldn’t be to any of the others. When I kept my secrets, it was like I was always behind another set of invisible French doors. I could see everything that was happening in the Sisterhood, but I didn’t feel like I was fully there when it happened.

I wish I had done it differently.

Secrets make a person cautious. That’s one of the reasons I hesitated about writing in the journal, which is still sitting on the shelf where I left it, by the way. When a person has secrets, they are always worried about saying something that would give it all away.

This whole business about my uncle’s house didn’t seem like such a big secret initially. When the Sisterhood first met and we introduced ourselves, everyone told a little about their family and where they lived. I didn’t even know Becca, Lizabett and Marilee back then. I didn’t think there was any need for them to know the inside, messy business of my family. I only said I lived in San Marino with my parents. I never said we were rich or that my parents owned a house or anything.

I should have told them how it was at some point though. I thought about it when Marilee’s parents separated. But when Marilee told us about her parents’ divorce, something concrete had happened. Her father had left the house. I didn’t have anything but my suspicions and my worries to go on. How could I take up Sisterhood time with my vague worries when Marilee was facing the real thing? If my uncle had actually told us to leave his house, then I am sure I would have said something.

I hear a knock on the French doors and I look up to see Randy.

“Want some company?” he asks as he opens the door.

“Please.”

“I didn’t mean to bring up the whole house thing yesterday,” Randy says as he stands inside the door. He’s got a white chef’s apron on with a Lakers T-shirt beneath it.

He looks a little rumpled like he didn’t sleep well either and I like that.

“It’s not your fault,” I say. “I should have told everyone a long time ago.”

Randy walks over and sits down in a chair at the table. “I’m glad you told me.”

“You’re a good listener.”

Randy shrugs. “The offer of that apartment still holds.”

I nod. “I appreciate it.”

There’s another knock on the glass panes of the French doors and Lizabett is standing there. I motion for her to come inside.

“How do you feel?” Lizabett says when she steps into the room.

“I’m fine,” I say and then realize I need to keep being honest. “A little tired and worried about me and Becca, though.”

“She’ll be fine,” Lizabett says. “She doesn’t stay mad for long.”

“She’s right though, I should have told everyone.”

Lizabett shrugs. “Sometimes it’s hard to get all the words said when we’re meeting. If you had thought you needed to tell us, you would have.”

We’re all silent for a moment.

Randy leaves to go back to the kitchen and Lizabett and I sit down with the Mary books. I have my first rehearsal this afternoon. The lead actors aren’t going to be there so I’m sure I’ll have some standing in place to do.

“I wonder when Mary learned to ride a donkey,” Lizabett says as she looks at a picture in the book.

“I suppose it’d be like learning to ride a bicycle today,” I say. “They probably learned when they were big enough to sit on the animal without falling off. Some neighborhood kid would come by and ask, ‘Want to ride my new donkey?’ and off they’d go.”

One good thing about having the nativity play happening in the Depression is that there wouldn’t have been many people riding donkeys in that time frame. Mary probably would be riding a bicycle instead. Or maybe riding in a beat-up old truck.

“I’m more curious about whether or not she had any friends,” I say as I reach up and pull another book off the shelf. “And, if she had any friends, I wonder if she told any of them about the angel visit.”

Lizabett can see where I’m going and she grins. “Becca would really be steamed if you kept something like that from her.”

I nod. “Not all secrets are equal.”

“The important thing is that you told us now.”

“And no angel’s been to visit me, so at least you know it’s my biggest secret,” I add.

“Mary must not have had any friends,” Lizabett says. “It says that she didn’t tell anyone about the angel visit and, if she had friends, they would have wanted to know. Besides, when she became pregnant—”

I nod. “Definitely no close friends. They would have been all over that. Especially the miracle part of the pregnancy.”

I know many things had to have been different when Mary was growing up.

“Maybe teenagers didn’t have friends like they do today,” I say. It makes me feel a little sad for Mary if that were true. “I mean with all of the talking back and forth. I wouldn’t like that.”

“Me neither.” Lizabett is leafing through a book. “She did have an aunt or a cousin or someone she went to visit, though.”

“I can’t imagine telling my aunt something like that.” I shudder just thinking about it. My aunt gets fussy enough about mortal visitors that come to her door and ask for me. She wouldn’t know what to do if an angel knocked.

Marilee comes into the Sisterhood room with several plastic containers filled with salad. “There was a pick-up order that got mixed up. So we have leftover salads. Want one?”

“Sure,” Lizabett and I both say.

I watch Marilee carefully as she comes in the door and sits down. She doesn’t seem any different today so she must be okay with me.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I say, just to be sure. “Well, not just yesterday but for not telling you how it was in the first place years ago.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marilee says as she sets the salads on the table. “We’re the Sisterhood. We make it through hard patches in life. That’s what we do. We’ll make it through this one.”

I want to believe Marilee so I do.

“Becca’s probably going to call any minute now and say she’s not mad anymore,” Lizabett says as she pulls one of the salad containers toward her.

“She was probably more hurt than mad anyway,” Marilee says as she hands Lizabett a plastic fork and then holds one out to me. “When Becca realizes that, she’ll call.”

“I hope so.” I take the fork and pull a salad container toward me. It’s a Greek salad and I note there are a few black olives in it. Everything seems to remind me of Mary and the part of the world where she lived. It would be odd to have all the olives you wanted to eat but no cell phone to call your friends.

We talk about the play while we eat our salads.

This time Lizabett wants to come with me to my rehearsal and I say I think it will be okay. The play is being held in a huge church and we were already told they’re not closing the doors during rehearsals, because people might want to come inside and pray. I told Lizabett that if she wants to bring one of her schoolbooks and study, I’d appreciate having someone there with me. She might even take some time to write in the Sisterhood journal.

Hi, this is Lizabett. Carly is right that we haven’t been writing in the journal like we should. I’m sitting in the church where Carly is rehearsing so I thought I’d write a little about it. Carly is so totally cool when she’s onstage. Honestly, I could see her being a Jennifer Aniston or someone. Not that the director seems too happy with her. He’s not even looking at her. He just yells out directions to stand there or walk around that circle. I think they are trying to measure the road Joseph and Mary would have taken to Bethlehem. I wonder how long a pregnant woman can ride on a donkey.

I don’t know what they’re going to use instead of a donkey, but it’s something with wheels because the director is using a stick to plot out turns. Every time the director makes a turn, Mary needs to stand in a new place so someone can measure everything.

I hope Carly gets a chance to be onstage as Mary.

There is an area where some of the cast members are getting their costumes while the director blocks out the action. There’s a lot of faded material in the costumes. I see one man who is going to be a shepherd. He has a faded blue shirt and old denim jeans. I think he’s a farmworker in the play rather than a nomadic shepherd like Mary might have known. Whoever he is, his straw hat is stained and frayed.

They also have some guys dressed up like ’50s rock stars. I think they might represent the three wise men. They definitely have enough shiny gold necklaces and watches to be rich. They even have gold belts. Not that they’re perfect. I don’t see how they’d be able to see the night star with those dark sunglasses they are wearing.

I keep my eye out for the woman who is playing Mary, but she’s not here today.

Ah, there’s Carly walking again. She does everything just like the director asks her to and I think she does it with feeling. It’s not easy to portray
I am the mother of the baby Jesus
just by the way you walk.

I really think this could be Carly’s big break. I know this is a small experimental play, but people will be watching. After Carly said she’s going to need to get a job before too long, I’ve been hoping that she will get some notice in this play. If she has to get a job, she won’t be able to go to auditions and things like that. I wouldn’t want her to miss her chance at stardom just because she has to get a job.

I know Carly says stars don’t get discovered anymore, but this is a nativity play. Maybe there will be a miracle or two. I haven’t said anything, but I’ve started to pray that Carly will get to actually be seen in this play. I’m not sure about prayer. Usually, I would just ask Quinn to pray for me, but I want to do this one on my own. I’m not sure God will listen to me, but I’m going for it.

Here Carly comes. They’re taking a break. I notice Carly walks up the aisle toward me with dignity. She’s a natural for the role of Mary.

I’ll give the journal back to her now. I wonder if the reason I’m so determined to see Carly have some stage time is because she seems so upset about Becca. It’s hard to tell because when Carly is upset she becomes even more poised than usual. But, when I look in her eyes, I can see she’s hurt.

When I think about it, the Sisterhood should have paid more attention to Carly. We should have known that she was worried about something besides her cancer. Maybe Carly should be mad at us instead of Becca being mad at her.

If you’re reading this, Carly, I want to say I’m sorry I didn’t notice before that you were upset when you mentioned your family. You’ve certainly stood by me. I’ll stand by you no matter what. Just tell us next time and we’ll be there.