Chasing Rainbows A Novel

NINE


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I turned on the television a little after one o’clock in the morning. I’d been unable to sleep. My mind had shifted into overdrive trying to process my new normal.

Separated. Fatherless. Unemployed.

Now, there was a winning combination if ever there were one.

I sighed, exhaustion easing through me, my body fatigued, my brain set on obsessed.

I missed Diane.

We’d had our share of arguments over the past thirty-six years, but this was the hardest she’d ever thrown the kid card.

I realized I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too. I hated when she gave me the pity face, hated when she tiptoed around my inability to have more children. There was also a very real part of me that hated the fact she’d become pregnant at age forty-one without trying. It smacked of sacrilege.

Don’t get me wrong. I was happy for her. I knew once she got over her compulsion to shop and David got over his compulsion to be a grouch, they’d work along with Ashley to integrate the newest arrival into their family.

They’d achieve a new sense of balance--a new sense of reality--and hopefully I’d be part of that, as I always had been.

The thing was, Diane had never spoken to me as she had after I’d driven Ashley to the party. And she’d been right. I didn’t know what it was like to sit up at night wondering where my child was. I’d always known exactly where she was. In the neonatal unit.

I’d sat up at night wondering if she’d keep breathing, if the hole in her heart had healed, if she was in pain. If she knew how very much we loved her--how much we’d fought for her life.

I’d never gotten a chance to worry about all the other things in a child’s life--the teething, the eating, the first bike ride, report cards, chicken pox, boys. You name it. I’d had only a tiny taste of just how much a child stole your heart.

So there I sat, staring at the television, hoping the talking heads could lull me into dreamland and away from my racing mind.

An overly enthusiastic woman touted the benefits of shoving my linens into plastic bags and attaching the vacuum to suck out every ounce of air.

Interesting. My closets were in a terrible state of disarray, and this was the perfect time to spend money I didn’t have on making over every bedroom in the house--all two of them. I could buy new sheets, new blankets, new comforters. Then I could shove the old ones into bags and suck out the air.

As I watched, the woman submersed one of the miracle bags into a bathtub full of water. I watched slack-jawed as she checked the gaudy comforter inside. Dry as a bone. Now there was a feature no one should be without, because you never knew when you might need to submerge your bagged linens in the tub.

All skepticism aside, I picked up the phone and dialed. What the hell? A little waterproof organization couldn’t hurt me. While the sales representative took my order, he offered me the opportunity to toss in a set of knives.

I agreed, energized by my mini-buying spree. I wondered whether the super-strength plastic bags could withstand an attack by the bonus knives. Maybe I’d save that experiment for clothes Ryan had yet to take out of his closet.

An odd sense of excitement filled me as I hung up the phone. If I could remove the air from my linens, think of the other magic items I had yet to discover in the land of infomercials. The possibilities were endless--simply, wonderfully endless.

At last, I had something tangible to cling to. Life-changing inventions that could be mine in three easy payments or less.

But wait, there was more.

I followed the bag purchase by calling for the Deluxe Whitener for teeth. After all, if Mary Tyler Moore could turn the world on with her smile, so could I. And I certainly wasn’t going to pass up the chance to own even more Billy Banks Tae Bo DVDs I’d never open, so I ordered a set of three.

I passed on buying the Snuggie. Call me crazy, but it seemed to me I could put my robe on backwards and save myself twenty bucks.

Yet, when the most beautiful and graceful woman I’d ever set eyes on began a belly-dancing demonstration, I sat mesmerized, unable to tear my gaze from the television screen. She explained the toning and fat-burning benefits of the ancient moves, and I was a goner. Sold to the woman with the wild hair and bunny slippers.

My excitement morphed into downright euphoria.

I added a juicer and a flashlight that never needed batteries to my list of purchases, and then I spotted the pièce de résistance. Crab cakes from Maryland.

If all else failed, at least I’d never go hungry.

I clicked off the television a little after four in the morning. As it was, the UPS guy would probably want my head on a platter as payback for the packages he’d have to deliver.

Boxes and boxes full of promises.

Whiter teeth. Flatter belly. Sharper knives.

Things were looking up, and that was something I hadn’t thought in a very long time.

o0o

I sat in the coffee shop at Genuardi’s the next morning and sipped a grande chai latte.

There was something to be said for observing life in a grocery store. While I wasn’t ready to become an active participant, the simple act of sitting and watching validated my life...or rather, the fact I had a life...or would again someday.

Perhaps my wallow was officially over, at least for now. I’d woken up craving life much like an addict might crave a drink, or Diane might crave a new hobo bag. I’d been frantic to shower, dress and get out of my house. I needed air. I needed space.

I needed to start making things happen.

Something.

Anything.

Even if that something was only a trip to Genuardi’s café.

Poindexter hadn’t waited for me to leave before he’d jumped up on the sofa, doggy bliss plastered across his face. I imagined any day I didn’t drag him to a new obedience school was a good day in his book. I also imagined he was ready to spend a bit less quality time with me. After all, even dogs had their limits.

So there I sat in the grocery store, pondering life, when it hit me. I watched as a young woman reached a box down from a top shelf for an older woman. She smiled brightly and the look of sheer surprise on the older woman’s face took my breath away.

Surprise.

She’d been surprised a stranger not only performed a kind act, but smiled as she did so.

I pulled out the notebook I’d brought along with Dad’s book of cryptograms and fished in my purse for a pen. Then I began to write.

I considered the quotes Dad had chosen about dreams, about life, and I remembered how once upon a time--when I’d been young and full of hope--I’d wanted to write so badly I’d spent every spare moment scribbling in my diary.

How funny that my dad’s collection of writing inspired me now, reigniting a fire deep in my gut I’d thought long dead.

The words poured out of me. Words about kindness and love and the simple acts that make us human--that make us loving creatures, that connect us. I wrote briefly about Emma and all she’d taught me, all she’d taught her doctors, but every word came back to the same thing.

Kindness.

Was it really so difficult to be kind to each other? To smile at each other? To look out for each other? I didn’t think so.

I’d just put the period at the end of my closing thought when I heard a shriek. A young, shrill, hauntingly familiar female voice that said, “I don’t want to go to school. I’m excused. Leave me alone.”

My suspicions were confirmed when I stood up and leaned to my left to gain a clear view past a display of brightly-colored mugs. There she stood.

Ashley.

Hands on hips. Lovely young face twisted with an emotion that looked a lot like fear, even though her words suggested otherwise.

I sprang into motion, leaving my belongings behind. I didn’t think there was a big resale market for fathers’ journals, or the ramblings of a dumped, middle-aged woman, so I wasn’t worried either would vanish and reappear on eBay.

“Is there a problem?” I asked as I neared the spot where Ashley and the store employee faced off. Ashley gripped a can of peas in one hand, and I sincerely hoped she hadn’t threatened to use them.

“Aunt Bernie?” Her expression was a mix of happy recognition and what-on-earth-are-you-doing-here?

I moved to her side and anchored an arm around her shoulders. When she didn’t squirm away, but rather leaned into me, a bubble of warmth burst inside my chest and spread outward. I gave the store clerk my warmest smile and squinted at his nametag.

“Is there a problem--” I repeated, this time tacking his name on to the end of my question “--Geoff?”

“This young lady should be in school.” He pointed at Ashley as if she’d just knocked over the ATM machine, his finger trembling so badly I shifted Ashley behind me to keep her out of his reach.

“Right.” I nodded. “We realize that, but she needed to pick up some peas--” I nodded toward the can she still gripped, searching for a reason that might sound valid “--for an art project. We’re running a bit late.”

I kept talking, having learned a long time ago my babbling could render even the most determined male silent. “So, we’ll be on our way. Won’t we, Ash? Here we go.” I sidestepped her toward the café, and looked back over my shoulder at Geoff, again with the biggest smile I could manage. “Thanks for your concern.”

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” I muttered beneath my breath as I slipped Dad’s book back into my tote bag.

Ashley’s fingers brushed against the edge of my notebook, her eyebrows knitting together. “Did you write this?”

I slid the notebook out of her reach, then stashed it in my bag. “Just some of my thoughts. Nothing important. You’re avoiding my question.” I gave her my sternest look--at least I thought it was my sternest look--but I’d obviously been mistaken, since she completely ignored me.

“What did you write?” She looked up at me, eyes sparkling. “An article? A story?”

“Letter to the editor.” I shrugged. “Maybe. About being nice to each other. Kind. You know?”

“Yeah.” A slight chuckle slipped from between Ashley’s glossed lips. “You should let my parents read it. They could use a lesson.”

The comment snapped me back to my original focus. “Right. You need to tell me what you’re doing here today, and then you need to tell me why you lied to me on Friday.”

Ashley winced. “Sorry, Aunt Bernie.”

I anchored my tote over my shoulder and hooked my arm through hers. “Let’s go. You can tell me in the car.”

I paid for Ashley’s peas, then dragged her toward the parking lot, not saying another word until we were both settled in the car, seatbelts clicked into place.

“Start talking.”

“Do you have a can opener?” She gazed lovingly at the can of peas. Her avoidance technique could use some work, but you had to give the kid points for trying.

“No.” I plucked the can from her grip and set it behind her seat. “Why aren’t you in school? How did you get here? Do you have any idea how angry your mother is with me?”

Silence stretched between us as she stared straight ahead, her eyes growing wide. When she turned to face me, I expected a full confession. Wrong.

“Can I run back in for a can opener?”

“What is so urgent about the peas?” I’ll admit I let her pea fixation sidetrack me from my inquisition, but the whole thing was downright weird.

“They make me happy.” Ashley shrugged her petite shoulders.

“Peas make you happy?” My disbelieving tone climbed a few octaves higher than normal. “You can do better than that, Ash.”

She shook her head as if her life depended on those peas. “No, I mean it. They make me happy. I need them, Aunt Bernie. I need them.”

Either the kid suffered from a serious vitamin deficiency or she was simply a freak in the craving department. But then, look at her mom. Maybe the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.

“What’s wrong with a good old chocolate bar?”

Ashley wrinkled her nose as if I’d suggested chicken liver. “Gross. Just peas, thank you.”

I started the ignition and backed out of my parking spot. “I’m sure your mother’s got a can opener at home.”

“She’ll kill me.”

“Should have thought of that before you cut school.”

“Can we go to your house? Please? I’ll tell you everything.”

The promise of a full confession made my decision an easy one. “Afterward, we’re calling your mother.”

Ashley slumped back against the passenger seat, as if I’d told her she had only two hours to live. “Fine.”

I bit back my smile. She might make you want to strangle her more often than not, but the kid had spunk, and spunk was a very good thing indeed.

o0o

“The best portion of a man’s life is his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.”

-William Wordsworth