Mine (25 page)

“Well, now you know.”

“What happened between you two? How come you’re so angry at him?”

Remaining focused on the sandwiches, Rachel said, “Didn’t he tell you the story?”

Courtney shook her head. “I didn’t ask him. I wanted to ask you. And he didn’t think it was his place. Will you tell me? Please?”

The innocent tone of Courtney’s question made Rachel look at her to see if the expression on her face matched the sweetness of her voice. It did. She flipped the sandwiches onto plates and Courtney sliced them in half on the diagonal, the same way Rachel cut her own, and it made her smile. She took the plate handed to her, along with a tall glass of milk, and they went into the living room to flop down side by side on the couch.

“I’ve got daddy issues, to say the least,” Rachel said after a couple of minutes.

“Not an uncommon thing.” Courtney shrugged as she chewed.

“I’ve never forgiven him for leaving my mom. I’ve barely talked to him since.”

Courtney studied her. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“But…he’s around. I mean, he’s here in town. He didn’t move away or anything.”

“He’s always been around. He spends a lot of time with Emily and her family. He lives on the same side of town.”

“But you don’t see him because…you don’t want to? Or he doesn’t want to?”

Courtney’s questions were so gentle, so innocuously phrased, that Rachel didn’t feel for a second that she was prying. More than that, she
wanted
to answer. She
wanted
to talk about it. She
wanted
Courtney to understand.
Good God, who am I and what happened to the real Rachel Hart?

“It’s me. It’s all my doing. He’s tried many times to make contact, to get together. Hell, Emily’s even tried to trick us into being in the same place at the same time, like some sort of incestuous blind date scenario.” She chuckled. “He wants it, but I always catch on and I’ve always managed to avoid being alone with him at all costs. I’m civil. I’d never cause a public scene. I’ve just basically avoided being with him one-on-one for…oh, I don’t know. Twenty-five years?”

“Why?” Her sandwich and milk gone, Courtney shifted sideways on the couch and propped her elbow on the back of it, leaning her head onto her hand. “Why don’t you want to talk to him one-on-one?”

The sudden lump in Rachel’s throat felt stuck and it took her a couple of tries to swallow it down.
All right, maybe emotional overload isn’t completely gone after all.
She didn’t like that idea, but much to her own surprise, she kept on talking. Something about the kindness on Courtney’s face, the look of gentle concern, and the joy of having her so close. Even more surprisingly, she told Courtney the truth. “I’m afraid,” she said quietly, studying her own hands.

Courtney laid a warm hand on her shoulder, made soothing circles with her thumb. “Of what?”

“Of sounding like a child.”

“Sweetie, you
were
a child when he left. Your anger with him is a child’s anger. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t see that?” Courtney’s tone was laced with a sympathetic sadness and Rachel was sure that if she asked her to, Courtney would do whatever she could to take care of her. The feeling simultaneously terrified her and filled her with a sense of wonder and contentment.

“I guess you’re right. I just…” Rachel let the words trail off and she heaved a big sigh. This was a subject she was so used to living with, so used to putting in a box and shelving so she didn’t have to examine it closely, but now… She wanted to talk to Courtney about it and the feeling was so foreign, she wasn’t sure what to do with it. She turned to gaze at Courtney, and her eyes roamed over the sweet, open face. Courtney’s complexion was creamy smooth without the slightest hint of makeup. Her eyes glittered with expectancy, with patience. Rachel noticed for the first time that the green irises were emphasized with a dark black line, making the green stand out even more. “What the hell is it about you? Hmm?”

Courtney smiled. “I’m just interested,” she said with a shrug. “I’m interested in you.”

The double meaning was not lost on Rachel, who leaned forward and tugged playfully on Courtney’s hair.

“Tell me more,” Courtney prodded.

Rachel breathed deeply, internally shocked that she was about to tell her deepest secrets to this woman—secrets she’d never told another living soul—but made no attempt to stop herself. It was as if she knew she had no choice and that it would just be better to let it out, that it was suddenly
necessary
to let it out. “I seem to have gotten angrier at my dad as I’ve gotten older. I guess it’s because as an adult, things become a lot clearer than they were when you were a kid.” Courtney shifted closer to Rachel and laid a supportive hand on her flannel-clad thigh; the contact bolstered Rachel’s confidence. “As I told you before, my dad left my mom when I was thirteen. To this day, I don’t really know the details. They kept them from Em and me, I’m sure because they figured we were too young to understand such things. Anyway, my mother was a happy, gentle, and kind woman. She wasn’t a terribly solid or strong one...she cried easily, she wasn’t great at making decisions without my dad’s input, but she was wonderful, the best mom a kid could ask for. Her home and family were her life.”

Rachel cleared her throat, surprised by the sudden emotion that welled up as she told the story. Courtney squeezed her leg gently, silently urging her to continue. “When my dad left, it was pretty much out of left field for Emily and me. We never saw it coming. Of course, we were kids, how could we, right? But we were shocked. He just left. He said he and Mom didn’t love each other anymore and he just left. Moved out the next day. As an adult, I think it’s safe to assume he was having some sort of midlife crisis. He was forty, after all, and I’m damn close to that myself, so I get it. I don’t like the way he did it, but I get it. But his leaving wasn’t the hardest part. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard…it was
very
hard. Worse than that, though, was what became of my mother. The sweet, gentle mom I knew disappeared in the blink of an eye. First, she crumbled. Completely crumbled. She was destroyed. She couldn’t keep up the house. She couldn’t cook meals for us. She stayed in bed for days on end. I know now that she was depressed, but then? I had no idea what was going on and it was terrifying. I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I could. I took care of us.
I
cooked dinner.
I
did the laundry.
I
got Emily up in the morning and ready in time to catch the school bus. This went on for weeks, maybe even months, I lost count.

“When Mom finally snapped out of it and began to get her shit together, she was not the same mother I remembered. She wasn’t soft and kind. She didn’t smile. Her mouth became this straight, angry slash of a line. Her eyes were hard. She was critical of everyone and everything and thought everybody wanted something from her. She had always been optimistic and the kind of person who looked on the bright side. But after my dad left, she was dark. She thought life was just a hardship and that if she didn’t keep vigilant at all times, something or someone would blindside her again. She’s still like that to this day. Every once in a while, I’ll catch a glimpse of light, but most of the time, she’s just hard.”

“God, you poor thing,” Courtney said, and Rachel was surprised that she sounded a little choked up, emotional.

“I realized a couple years ago why I have such a hard time with my dad.” Rachel swallowed hard, having never verbalized her thoughts on the subject to another person, not even Emily. “It’s not so much that he left my mother. I’m a big girl now. I know these things happen and they always will, and you know what? Maybe my mom was a bitch and I just didn’t realize it. Maybe she was impossible to be with. Maybe she was as much to blame as he was. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “My parents are just people and people fuck up. I know that. But…he just…left me in charge, you know?” Rachel’s eyes shimmered with tears about to spill over as she turned and looked at Courtney. “He destroyed my mother, my home, hammered it into rubble and then left it for me to hold together.” Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “God, I was only thirteen years old. I was a kid. How do you do that to a kid?”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“And then he goes off and finds some other woman and doesn’t understand why I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“Come here.” Courtney wrapped her arms around Rachel and pulled her close as a quiet sob escaped Rachel’s throat. “What is wrong with adults that they put that much pressure on a child? I don’t understand it. You did a terrific job, Rachel. Look at you. You’re beautiful and successful and from what you’ve told me about Emily, it sounds like she turned out all right, too. You did good.”

Rachel sat up and ran her fingers over her wet cheeks, embarrassed that she’d broken down, but somehow relieved that it had been Courtney who’d seen it. “You know, at the time, when it was all happening, I never really thought about it being unfair. It never really occurred to me that I was missing out on the most important years of my childhood. I didn’t realize any of that until I was all grown up.” She rolled her eyes with a grin. “And in therapy.”

Courtney chuckled. “Therapy can be a wonderful thing, can’t it?”

“You’ve been there?”

“Oh, God, yes. I was honestly bummed when I was told I didn’t need it anymore,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“You liked it that much, huh?”

“I liked being able to understand myself, to understand my own reactions to things, you know? I liked being able to make sense of my thoughts and know that, for the most part, they were normal.”

“I probably should have stayed a little longer. When my dad’s second wife died…I was cold and heartless and I didn’t handle that well at all.”

“Most people don’t.”

“I didn’t go to the wake or the funeral.”

Courtney grimaced. “Ugh. Poor Ted.”

“I know.” Rachel continued. “I barely acknowledged that she’d existed, let alone that she’d died. I was terrible.”

“Everybody handles death differently,” Courtney offered.

“I suppose. Still. I think I owe my dad an apology for being such a selfish bitch.” She sat with that for a while, surprised at how easily she’d said it and even more surprised by how much she meant it. “Did you go to therapy after Theresa’s death?”

A string hanging off the hem of her sweatshirt suddenly became very interesting to Courtney. She swallowed as she toyed with it and inclined her head once in a positive response. “Yeah. Actually, Theresa’s death is sort of why I was hanging out in your hallway tonight.” She shot Rachel a chagrined grimace. “I thought I owed you an explanation.”

“For what?”

“For the other night. For freaking out on you.”

“You didn’t freak out.”

“Oh, but I did.” Courtney chuckled. “I just hid it well. Sort of.”

Rachel gave a half-grin and nodded, but didn’t comment, thinking it was wiser to just let Courtney go on.

Courtney took a deep breath, blew it out, and stared off into the middle distance of the room. “I was having trouble not seeing Theresa even though I was with you. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face and I felt like I needed to decide who I wanted to be with more, her or you. Which is a ridiculous choice to force myself to make.”

“Damn near impossible, I’d say.”

“Right?” Courtney laughed, seeming a bit more at ease than she had just a few seconds ago. “I’ve realized that you’re the only one since she’s been gone that I’ve
really
wanted to be with. And that scared me.” The volume of her voice dropping significantly, she looked at her own lap as she said, “I should have talked to you about it. I’m sorry I didn’t. See…the people left behind by a spouse who’s died? We’re always uncertain because we always feel like we’re cheating on them.”

“That makes perfect sense to me.”

“Does it? Because it drives me up the wall. And then when I wish I didn’t think that way, when I wish I could just focus on being with you…”

“You feel guilty.”

“Exactly.”

Gently placing her fingers beneath Courtney’s chin, Rachel turned her face up and looked into Courtney’s eyes, eyes filled with so much…so much intelligent thought, so much emotion, so much to say. “Tell me about her. Please? I’d like to know. What was she like?”

*

Feeling a sudden inability to breathe, Courtney grabbed up their dishes and took them to the sink in the kitchen where she stood braced against the counter, hoping to get hold of her bearings. Grateful that Rachel didn’t follow, she tried to gather her thoughts, to stop the feeling of imbalance she suddenly felt. Rachel wanted to know about Theresa, and when Courtney thought about the expression on Rachel’s face, nonthreatening was the first description that came to her mind. Honest curiosity was another. Under most circumstances, Courtney found it easier to avoid getting into great detail about Theresa, but now…now she was astonished to realize she wanted—needed—to talk about her, especially to Rachel. It was somehow important now. Rachel deserved it, deserved to hear what a wonderful woman Theresa was. And she deserved to hear it from Courtney. Taking a deep breath and making a decision, she returned to the living room and plopped down on the couch next to Rachel, who hadn’t moved.

“Theresa was a smart-ass,” she began with a grin. “She was witty and fun and loved to bust people’s chops. She was always the life of the party.”

Rachel hunkered down into the couch more comfortably, her arm around Courtney, and pulled her closer. “What did she do for a living?”

“She was a teacher, just like me, except a better one. Her students loved her.” She furrowed her brows as she sorted through her thoughts and memories, trying to find the most important things about her beloved partner, the things she would want everybody to know. “She was Italian, and therefore, family was everything to her. Her parents and her brother were very close to her. We saw them all the time and they welcomed me into their hearts with open arms.” Turning her face to look up at Rachel, she said, “You’ve seen how close I am to Mark. We’ll always be like that. That’s how her family is. Even though she’s gone, I’m still a part of them. It’s nice.”