But her luck was rotten, and it stayed that way.
Through Kathy’s childhood, Sylvia worked answering phones in the office of Eddie’s friend, Uncle Ray. Uncle Ray wasn’t her uncle either. Not by blood. But at least he acted like an uncle should. He stopped by their apartment frequently, bringing real gifts. Flowers or perfume or elaborate boxes of chocolates, Barbies or crayons or ribbons for Kathy’s hair. As she got older, records and books, and even one time at Christmas, a brand-new Walkman that ended up getting stolen in the schoolyard. Kathy eagerly awaited Uncle Ray’s visits, and not only for the swag. He’d ask what she was reading or how school was going. He’d notice she was alive. Sylvia, on the other hand, dreaded Ray’s visits. She’d fix him a drink and make polite conversation, but the whole time she was gritting her teeth, storing up insults and complaints that she’d let loose the second he left. His pudgy fingers, his dandruff, his shiny suits. He grosses me out, she’d say, or, When’s he gonna realize he’s not getting any, the lech? But she never told him to buzz off, and she kept on working for him, because the pay was good. And besides, Ray cared, and that had to count for something.
Uncle Ray was the only one, other than Kathy, who noticed when Sylvia grew thin and pale. When she got unexplained bruises or strange spots on her skin that the makeup couldn’t hide. He told her to go to the doctor, that’s what the health insurance was there for, and she should think about her daughter. But she didn’t listen. She started suffering from chills and fever on the regular.
On a cold, wet day in December, just after Kathy’s eleventh birthday, Sylvia called in sick to work. Kathy begged to stay home with her, but Sylvia wouldn’t hear of it.
“You need to be in school.”
“I want to stay home with you, Ma, please.”
“I said no.”
“Pleease.”
“Stop hovering. You’re driving me up the goddamn wall. Now go. You’ll be late.”
Her eyes welled. “Mommy, I’m scared. Why are you always sick?”
“Don’t be such a drama queen. It’s a touch of the flu, that’s all. Get out of my hair and you can have McDonald’s for supper, okay?”
She went. But that day in school, she was catatonic, filled with terrible visions of what she’d find when she got home.
They came true.
There would always be before and after that moment. She walked up to the door, put her key in the lock, and her heart was pounding. She opened it, and the apartment was dim, but not dark. She could see crimson splotches on the carpet and smell the gamy odor. Sylvia’s foot peeked out from the kitchen. Following the trail of blood, Kathy advanced like a sleepwalker until she found her mother, sprawled, pale and lifeless on the floor.
A scream rose in her throat.
The next thing she remembered, she was pounding on the Russos’ door, yelling and sobbing.
“They killed my mother! They killed her. Help!”
Two cops arrived, a man and a woman. They made Kathy wait in the hall while they checked the apartment. Mrs. Russo cracked her door, staring out, but she didn’t invite her inside. A few minutes later, the female cop beckoned Kathy back to the apartment.
“What made you say somebody hurt her?” she asked. “Did you see something?”
Kathy was crying so hard that no words came out. The cop rubbed her shoulder.
“Hon, your mom’s not dead. We don’t know what happened, but she’s not stabbed or shot or anything. And there’s no sign that anyone broke in. Her pulse is weak. She mighta threw up blood. Is she sick?”
Kathy nodded.
The place looked like a crime scene, but it wasn’t. The cops called the paramedics, who arrived within minutes and conducted an examination. It turned out Sylvia had a massive nosebleed and fainted. They would take her to the hospital.
As they loaded her onto the stretcher, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked right at Kathy.
“Was it you who called the ambulance?” she said.
She shook her head, not wanting to admit it was her. Technically, the cops had called. She waited for her mother to get mad, to yell, or cluck her tongue in annoyance, because usually Sylvia hated asking for help. She hated fuss. But this time was different. She held out her hand. Kathy squeezed it, shocked at how cold it was.
“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll be fine,” her mother said. “You know I would never leave you alone.”
But that was a lie. Sylvia left her alone all the time, and they both knew it. She turned her face away as they wheeled her mother out the door.
The minute she was gone, the cops asked Kathy who to call. Would her grandparents come stay with her, or could they take her to them? There were no grandparents. Then who? An aunt or uncle? That jogged her brain, and she thought of someone, relieved to have an answer so she didn’t seem unwanted and alone.
They could call Uncle Ray.
He came immediately. They went to the hospital together, and over the next few days, he got things sorted. Sylvia had leukemia. It was fairly advanced, and her prognosis was not great. If there was hope, it would be found at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. The health insurance would cover most of the treatment, and whatever it didn’t, Uncle Ray would cover out of his own pocket. He’d accompany Sylvia on the airplane, because somebody had to, and that was no job for a kid. He would stay out there for a while to get Sylvia settled, which begged the question: What would happen to Kathy while they were gone? She could still smell the hospital waiting room where they had that conversation. The sharpness of disinfectant, the damp odor of carpet muddy from the rain. Uncle Ray looked at her under the harsh fluorescent light with pity in his eyes.
“I’m gonna talk to you like you’re a grown-up, okay, Kathy? You have to be brave.”
She was terrified, but she wanted him to think well of her, so she raised her chin and nodded.
“I reached out to your grandparents.”
She stared at him, sick to her stomach.
“You know who I mean, right? Your mom’s folks?”
“I never met them. They don’t like me.”
“That’s not true. They had a falling-out with your mom.”
“Because of me.”
“No. It was about your mother’s lifestyle. Her behavior. You have no responsibility for that. You’re just a kid. Your grandma understands that. She told me to say that she would help you out if she could. Unfortunately, she’s not able to right now.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious. You shouldn’t take it personally. After they moved to Florida, your grandad had a stroke. He went into a nursing home, and your grandma’s fallen on hard times. Unfortunately, where that leaves us is, well…”
He cleared his throat.
“You, uh, you know Eddie’s your dad, right?”
Her face went hot with shame. Of course she knew. That didn’t mean she wanted to talk about it.
“Him and me, we’re like brothers. Grew up next door to each other, had each other’s backs all through school. And we work together to this day. I know he acts like a tough guy. That’s from being on the job, all the pressure and whatnot. Some rough people he’s involved with. But trust me, there’s a good heart underneath. He knows Sylvia’s in the hospital, and he’s broken up about it. He really cares for her. And he cares for you, even if he’s not one to show it. Bottom line, I think the best thing to do is to talk to him. He’ll come through in the end. I believe that.”
But he didn’t sound so sure. She stared at the rug. It was gray and pink, in a diamond pattern, breathtakingly ugly, stained, and frayed.
“I’m going to ask him to let you stay there until your mom comes home. He’ll do it if he can, but there is one complication.”
She looked up and caught his apologetic shrug.
“His wife.”
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