Page 77 of Breathe Again

She was in a caregiving mood today. Zale wasn’t even here to witness it. No matter, I’d take it!

“Olivia, come and get your donut, my love.”

Olivia came to the kitchen, and my mother asked, “One or two?”

“Two, please.”

Bea put two donuts on the plate for Olivia and then put one on a plate for herself and one for me, and Olivia went back to her favorite chair and her bag of happiness. Bea came to the table with two plates.

“Not for me, Mom, thanks.”

Her eyebrows rose into her thinning hairline. “Why not? You deserve a treat!”

“No, I’m good, honestly. I’m dying for a coffee, that’s what I want.”

She sat with her donut while the coffee brewed, then looked at me. “It was a good weekend?”

“Amazing.”

“Did you see a show?”

“No, just ate out, shopped, walked along the river, explored the neighborhood.”

“You should try to do it more often. You deserve it. You’re both very good parents, but parents need to take breaks. I always tell my friends what a good mom you are, what a good dad Zale is. Olivia is a very lucky little girl. You know my friend, Abby?”

“Yes. I only met her a couple of times, but I like her.” Abby was a friendly, down to earth, take no shit kind of woman. She was how I imagined Bex would be in thirty years. I wasn’t always sure how she and my mom could be friends, but I was happy for my mom’s sake that they were. I always hoped she’d be a grounding influencefor my mom, despite or because of her penchant for mismatched dishes.

“Yes, she’s very good. Picked up milk for me the other day, saved me a trip to the grocery store, and, you know, she makes her own jam in the summer, buys strawberries direct from the farm and shares with all of us. I can’t wait to get some this summer. Anyway, her daughters have caused her no end of worry! One has never been married and lives with another woman! That’s a bit suspicious if you ask me. The other one just got divorced! So sad what it does to the children. I told her you and Zale were away for the weekend, taking time for your marriage and each other. It takes commitment to make a marriage work. Her daughter is a real estate agent, she’s very successful, but working all those odd hours, you know, takes a toll on a marriage. Her son-in-law, well, I don’t know what he does, but I’m sure he didn’t appreciate her work hours. It’s all fine and dandy to be winning awards and getting big bonuses but if you can’t hold your marriage together? Look after your children? It’s hardly worth it.”

“Did Abby say that was the problem?”

Abby had not struck me as the type to speak negatively about her children.

Her face soured. “Last year, Abby told us about this big awards thingy her daughter won. Well, a career isn’t everything, is it! I’m glad you don’t have anything to distract you from Zale and Olivia.”

That was a back-handed compliment if I’d ever heard one. I sensed her irritation was more about a sense of competition with Abby.

She continued. “Anyway, I advised her to tell them to go to counseling. Marriage is sacred. Divorce is against the church, you know. I don’t think it’s something they should be entering into lightly.”

I empathized with this unknown daughter, maybe Abby was not the understanding, down-to-earth woman I thought she was. “Did Abby tell you her career was the problem?”

“Abby?” She scoffed. “No way! You can’t say anything to her about her kids. She just said it’s not her business to tell them what to do, it’s her business to support them, and help them pick up the pieces when they make mistakes. What a load of hooey! She just doesn’t want us all to know how embarrassed she is by their behavior.”

“Maybe that’s how she really feels.”

Bea stood up to get the coffee, bristling with irritation. “You don’t know her like I do.”

“I don’t know her at all, really.”

“Yes, well, you know what she said to me?” She continued without waiting for an answer. “She told me to stop talking about money, that there are ladies in our seniors’ group who are not as well off and talking about money makes some of them uncomfortable. Like that’s my fault? Is it my fault their husbands didn’t look after them?Is it my fault they can’t go on the day trips we plan? Am I supposed to not want to do anything or go anywhere because they can’t?”

“Why can’t you go, exactly?” I was confused, not understanding why she couldn’t go just because someone else couldn’t.

“The seniors’ group subsidizes a few daytrips a year. I suggested we put all the subsidy money into a week-long cruise. We’d each get at least $300 off the cost! But, no, they voted it down, said it wasn’t fair to put the subsidy toward something where so many couldn’t participate. I mean, really, it’s not like we can’t still do the day trips, or can they not afford that either? For those of us who can afford the cruise, the subsidy might even go up depending on the numbers. Why should we miss out?”

Her lack of sensitivity toward the other ladies astounded me, as well as her complete lack of insight into the same.

“Mom, you can afford to go on a cruise, correct?”

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