Page 71 of Everything We Thought Was True
Lena sat down next to her and smiled as she looked out over the garden. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mom.” She grasped Teresa’s hand and squeezed it.
“Me too,” Teresa said, stroking Lena’s hand.
She saw the pearl ring on her daughter’s hand and smiled. Teresa had given her mother’s pearl ring to Lena as her law school graduation gift. She remembered watching Lena cross the stage to receive her diploma and proudly thinking,My daughter is going to be a lawyerfor the umpteenth time.
Teresa looked down at the framed wedding photo of Lena and Kevin that she’d found on display in the living room and brought to the patio. The couple was peering out from a vintage Rolls Royce.
Lena looked over. “Oh, that wedding photo cracks me up.”
“Why?”
“Because we were like two little kids in that Rolls Royce. We felt so spoiled, the two of us, riding in luxury like old-fashioned movie stars. I remember turning to Kevin when we got in and saying, ‘You don’t know how cool it is that I’m even sitting in this car. A Rolls freaking Royce! I grew up on the west end of New Rochelle in a tiny attic apartment.’” Lena grinned.
Teresa smiled. “What did Kevin say?”
“He said, ‘Well, look at you now, baby.’ We did a champagne toast and then kissed. That’s when the photographer snapped this photo.”
“Lena, I’m thrilled you have a good marriage, especially after what I went through with your father. You and Kevin seem to have a great relationship. Romance, friendship, support. And loyalty, which is something I always wanted for you.”
“And most importantly, he isn’t gay!” Lena blurted. They both laughed. “I’m also happy for you, Mom, to have found love again with Larry. He’s such a good guy, and you deserve all the happiness he brings you. He adores you, you know. Even if you won’t let him make an honest woman out of you and marry him.”
“I’ve had enough of marriage for one lifetime, thank you very much. I have no problem living happily in sin for the rest of my life.”
Teresa smiled. Larry always let her know how he was feeling and how much he cared for her and made her feel loved. But it went beyond that. She felt desired. He couldn’t get enough of her. He didn’t mind the extra weight she carried on her frame. In fact, she thought he might find her more attractive because of it. He flirted with her, coming up with excuses to nuzzle her. And she basked in the attention.
She and Frank had married so young, and their relationship had soured so quickly. Frank's get-it-done attitude helped her feel safe when she was a young bride. And she stayed with him because he showed love through everyday gestures, which made her feel well taken care of. But Teresa had realized she deserved a partner who would be emotionally and physically there for her. She hadn’t been sure if that was even an option.
Fortunately, she’d found that in Larry. Maybe he didn’t change her oil for her, but he was so attentive in other ways—and those ways mattered a lot to Teresa.
Chapter Forty-One
LENA - ORANGE, CA
September 2015
Iwoke up the Saturday morning after returning from San Francisco, harnessed Atticus, and hit the neighborhood streets for a run. I’d missed several days because of the early meeting times of the conference. As I ran, I thought of my time with my dad in the City by the Bay. I pictured him dancing at the gay club, so free, so happy, and so proud to show me his world, and then our heart-to-heart at the inn when I finally got to hear his story from his perspective. It made me realize that there was a piece of my mom’s story I hadn’t yet explored. The last journal she’d kept—the one she’d filled during her battle with cancer—I’d never found the strength to read, so I’d let it linger for years. I would periodically take it out, thinking I was ready to peer inside, but would find it too painful and place it back.
Well, it was time to be brave. I wanted to understand both my parents’ complete stories. I remembered the day I heard the wordcancerin the same sentence as my mother’s name. It was October 25, 2008, and I’d been standing in a sterile room at Sloan Kettering, staring at the doctor who’d just uttered that one paltry word that would change everything.
“Teresa, I’m so sorry.” The oncologist looked at my mother, his eyes soft and earnest. “Your pancreatic cancer is inoperable, incurable.We’ll provide treatment to prolong your life as much as possible and keep you comfortable, but this is terminal. I am truly sorry.”
The realization hit me like a knife to the heart. My mother was going to die. Soon. The news was so devastating that all I could do was grip the counter as if it was the only thing tethering me to the earth. I wanted to howl and scream. I felt like I would choke as I tried to stifle anything from coming out of my mouth. My stomach churned, and I felt dizzy. I was overcome with homesickness, not for a place but for the life I’d just had before the diagnosis. I was going to have to live the rest of my life without my mom in it. I couldn’t fathom that. I felt completely dislocated, unmoored, drifting out to sea. What would it be like to be a motherless daughter? I felt so out of control, emotions flooding me and threatening to take over.
As soon as we left the hospital that day, I requested a leave of absence from my job, and fortunately, Marcus granted it. I temporarily moved back to New York, securing a short-term rental right near my mom and Larry’s apartment. What we sadly thought would be a few months turned into a year and a half as my mom held on longer than expected—a blessing and a curse, as it gave me more time with her but meant she was suffering as the cancer slowly killed her. Kevin was supportive, visiting when he could and patiently waiting for me to come back home to California for short stints to get more clothes and check in on my life then return to New York. I was there every step of the way for my mom’s medical treatment and helped her see every specialist possible. Doing something, anything—researching online, making phone calls, organizing her paperwork—made me feel less helpless. It was the only way I could cope with such momentous news. But it still didn’t mask the fact that I was losing my mom as she was losing her battle with the disease.
What made it even harder was that she could read me so well. I could never hide from her. It was like she knew everything that crossed my mind. My mother's intuition was so strongthat I would swear sometimes she was psychic. It took me years to realize that what I thought was her predicting the future was really her uncanny, deep knowledge of me.
I’d never forget when she said, “Sweetie, this is killing me literally, but it's also killing you emotionally because you can't put your hands inside my body and take out the cancer. Please come to terms with the fact that I'm at peace with this, and just be there with me and stop trying to fight.”
So reluctantly, I did. I thought of the time after I’d taken her to chemo and she was resting in bed and I crawled in next to her. We lay there on our sides, facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes. We said nothing aloud. Our lips never moved, but our eyes said so much.
I love you. I will always love you.
I know.
I wish I could make this better.
I know.
