Page 11 of Delayed Intention
I felt betrayed learning that my mother orchestrated the drama around Ed’s engagement. It stung the way some old wounds do when they’re reopened. In the past, I would retreat further into myself, but this time, I became motivated to make changes. I set up an urgent appointment with my therapist, Monica. Using my pain as a catalyst, I was candid about my life in a way I hadn’t been before. I spoke about some delicate subjects from my teenage years, some of which I’d only been able to reference once, in a letter. I admitted to her that I was allowing my mother more control over my life than was healthy. With Monica’s help, I saw that I had been permitting my mother to manage parts of my life to avoid taking responsibility for myself. Mom didn’t have free rein to rule over me—I offered many of my choices over to her. One of the first changes I made after our session was to put a firm, if temporary, boundary between Mom and me. Then, I booked a flight to Nebraska for an overdue visit to my grandmother.
Looking up, Nona is in front of me, smiling, and has placed the phone back on the receiver before settling herself on the stool across the counter from me. I smile back, so happy to be here, in this kitchen.
“Well, honey, your mother can really get a bee in her bonnet about you.” She kept her eyes on me, not unkindly. “I told her you were here for the holiday and that it was all settled. My word, she’s a piece of work.”
“Yes, well, thank you for that, Nona. I’m just not ready to talk to her right now.”
“I imagine not.” She pulled some cereals out of the pantry and the whole milk she kept for visitors. “This is wonderful for me because I need an assistant to get ready for all of the family coming.” She pats my hand briefly. “This is going to be a wonderful holiday, and I’m so pleased you’re here with me.”
“Thanks, Nona.” I poured myself cereal as she poured us both coffees, and I put the sugar and cream in the middle between us. As I eat my cereal, I watch her pull out her menus for the Rosh Hoshanah dinners she’ll be hosting.
“You can help with the couscous and beet salad, and I’ll tackle the lamb. We still need to talk about desserts, though. Barbara is going to bring apple cake, but we need more.” With that, her phone rang, and she excused herself. I smiled as I watched the old mustard yellow phone cord stretch around the room again while she set up prep stations in her enormous kitchen. Feeling tension leaving my shoulders, I’m grateful she is here for me, with open arms. Her home is a refuge, and no matter how long I have been away, the safety net I feel around me here is a relief.
Finishing my coffee, I watch and marvel at her agility in the kitchen. Already eighty-eight years old, Rose is a retired obstetrician and gynecologist, one of the first Jewish women to attend her medical school. She met my Grandfather Edmond while a student there. He died when my mother and her sisters were young, which was difficult for all of them. She had told me she came to Nebraska so she could work where they were pleased to have a Jewish woman doctor. I took that to mean other places were less enthusiastic to have her on their staff. As it turned out, the hospital where she worked was where she met Georgette, who was a pharmacist there. In those days, the population of female medical professionals was sparse, and as they tell it, it was only natural for them to form a lifelong friendship out of that.
“Lily, I’m fixing to get our supplies, so we’ll need to run to the shop. Be a dear and look over our lists and see if there is anything I am forgetting. Susan and her crew are taking care of themezzehplates, so we are off the hook for those. I’m just going to grab my purse; will you pull the car around?”
Nona still lives in the same home she raised her daughters in after my grandfather died. It’s a long, rambling house with all the bedrooms in a row down one hallway. The garage is at the far end of the house. I grab the keys and head out to warm up her old, but still luxurious, Buick. As I pull around to the front and wait, I reflect with amazement how intuitive my grandmother is with me.
She knows when she can pat my hand and understands when I don’t want people touching me. She can read me and find those tiny openings when I don’t mind a kiss on the top of my head. I don’t even know when those moments are available in me, but she can spot them somehow. Of course, there are some people I never want touching me. My older brother Joe used to think it was so funny to force me to be hugged by him. He seemed to want to see me squirm. The truth is, I’d rather most people kept their hands to themselves.
Nona is coming out with her cell phone in her hand, and I struggle not to laugh. She won’t use it in her house. She thinks of it as her ‘going out’ device. When she sits down in the passenger seat, her phone starts ringing.
“Sorry, dear, this is Georgette—I should take it.” At Georgette’s name, I feel tension return right back to my shoulders, where it was before.Joshua Cohen. I wonder how he’s doing. My face starts to burn with embarrassment at the notion that he may be sitting next to his mother, while I’m sitting next to Nona. I think about taking a hydroxyzine tablet as anxiety starts to rise in my chest, but I don’t want to impair my driving. I feel sweat beading between my breasts as my heart rate climbs and my hand grips the steering wheel so tight my knuckles blanch.
Why am I such a coward?Here I am, next to this brave pioneer of a woman. She had to flee Egypt, where she was born, because her family was driven out with many other Jews. She came with her family to Rhode Island and lived hand to mouth, learned English, and put herself through college and medical school. And then there’s me. I feel heroic if I go out of my apartment for a non-work-related event one time a week. And now I’m stressing over a man I’ve avoided apologizing to for almost nineteen years. Over something he probably did not even notice and certainly doesn’t think about.
I pull the car over because I physically have to. I feel Nona’s eyes on me.
“Georgette, dear, let me call you back. Something just popped up.”
My grandmother looks at me with kindness. Another thing to love about her. She doesn’t force me to do anything. She waits for me to take the lead. I decide to reward her with honesty.
“Josh. Josh Cohen.” I turn on the air conditioning even though it’s 55 degrees outside to stop the sweating. “I got worried about seeing him. I owed him an apology almost two decades ago, and now it seems weird that I never did something about it in all these years. I mean, it was probably not a big deal then, but it feels like one to me. Especially now because so much time has passed. Anyway, it was just stupid kid stuff, and then we lost touch. Now it feels overwhelming to me. I’m sure he doesn’t think about me, or any of that, at all.”
I reach over and turn the air conditioning off.
“Well, dear, if it feels like such a big deal to you, you probably should address it. Things like that just have a way of getting bigger when they aren’t dealt with, you know?”
I burst into tears, mostly because I can.Oh my God, how did I become such a loser? Where did my life go? How am I thirty-four and thirteen at the same time?
Nona takes my hand and pats it briefly, then lets it go, handing me a tissue from her handbag. “Let’s start over. We don’t need to go to the store today. Let’s go back, you can wash up, change your shirt or whatever and we can have a nice walk.”
“Okay.” My voice sounds so weak to my ears. “This is why I’m alone, Nona. I only just started to be friends with Ros and now Mom… It’s like she wants to keep me separate from people or something,” I stop, not wanting to complain. Lately, however, brutal honesty has been taking precedence over my inner desire to hide. “I wish I could have had a different life or been a different person.”
“Lily Shoshana Mendes!” Nona is giving me one of her I-can-see-into-your-heart looks.God, I love her.
“You are one of my favorite people on the entire planet, just the way you are. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Nona. I hear you.”
“Let’s go back.”
After washing my face and putting on a flannel, we headed out for a walk. Once we made our way around the corner, I resolve to start sharing what I need to say; I want to show her I’ve made some strides.
“Before I get into what I want to tell you, please know that overall, I’m doing so much better than I ever have before.” I manage a tight smile. “I’ve made some friends at work, some of the other people on my team—we’ve gone out for drinks a few times. And there’s a nurse who likes hiking, so we’ve gone together.” I fidgeted with my water bottle. “Of course, there’s my best friend, Abbie—I told you so much about her already.”
“Lily, I'm glad to hear all of that, and if you don’t want to talk about anything else, just tell me, but when you said this was why you are alone, I had the feeling you are not just talking about having friends.”
