Waiting Page 16

  She and Lena were over. Over, over, over. Caris held her hand up and dropped the razor. It made barely a splash. It was an Olympic diver, graceful, slicing into the water and leaving scant traces of its action. Except it floated. So not like an Olympic diver at all. A pink Olympic log. I'm going crazy.

  "Yoo-hoo!" Dale's traditional I'm home greeting.

  Caris jerked upright, then froze.

  "Caris, babe? Where are you?"

  "B-bathroom," Caris called. I'm dreaming. She had fallen asleep in the tub. The time was four-something a.m. This was a dream. Had to be.

  Dale came into the bathroom. The Dale with the purple pinstripe suit from the picture of Caris two months pregnant. Dale took one look at the rose-colored water and frowned. "Time for a new bath."

  Dale drew a new bath, this time with bubbles. Caris closed her eyes and tried to relax, but the heat of the new water failed to reassure her. Her heart was heavy. She was detached, a Band-Aid pulled off, skin stinging. She floated outside herself, her tub self becoming a statue.

  She opened her eyes. Her wife was sitting on the floor. Anxious. Clothed.

  Caris, naked.

  Caris snorted an acid laugh. "Aren't you dead?"

  No answer.

  Caris studied her reflection in a bubble. Her face was broad, curved, her eyes ugly blue slants. She stabbed the bubble with her pointer finger. Pop, you bastard. The bubble gasped and folded. No pop. Caris chose a bubble that looked compliant and punctured it. She recalled Dale's laugh, Dale's rare but lively, from-the-throat guffaws, the way she took fussy care with her spiky hair and then would look at Caris with vibrant brown eyes and say: "Jesus Lord, Caris, I have the most gorgeous wife in the world. How did I get so lucky?" Whenever Dale picked Caris up in her strong arms and twirled her, Caris felt light and carefree. Now she was nauseated.

  "Lena and I can be friends," Caris said. "I've got to try to be there for her, no matter what happened. We're family. She's Donovan's sister."

  Dale squeezed body wash on Caris's loofah. "I'll get your back."

  "Okay."

  As Dale rubbed gentle, relaxing circles, Caris wondered what Lena was doing. Hoped Lena was okay. Relatively okay, anyway.

  "I thought she could be the one," Caris whispered.

  "You never know. She could be."

  Caris turned to her wife. Looked at her. Really looked at her, as if Dale might actually be there instead of being a dream person. Dale's brown eyes were no longer intense. They were warm, liquid, understanding. Caris trailed a finger down Dale's cheek. Smooth cheek. Skin and blood, not mist and imaginings. "Aren't you mad? Me and Lena?"

  "Of course I am. But you both did what you had to. I get that. Mom doesn't."

  Caris cupped Dale's cheeks and kissed him. "Oh, baby. I love you. I hope you have your second chance now, wherever you are."

  *****

  Lena had the supplies ready for Aron's visit. No candy or soda—Joanna had said—but popcorn and water was okay. Lena also had a stack of G-rated DVDs and board games. She had Aron from seven p.m. to eleven a.m. Bedtime was at ten p.m., Joanna said, and Aron should not be allowed to sleep past eight a.m. So Lena had her for five waking hours.

  Five precious waking hours.

  Lena intended to make the best of them.

  *****

  "So," Lena ventured once Joanna left. "What ya wanna do? I have games, movies and—"

  "Can we visit your mom?"

  "Now?"

  "Yeah."

  "No, sweetie. It's late."

  "Only seven."

  "Still too late."

  Aron's gaze was bright. Expectant. "Tomorrow morning?"

  "Probably not. I need to talk to your mom first about it."

  "Can we visit your stepmother?"

  Lena pasted a smile on. Caris, Caris, oh Caris. "No, sweetie. I think your mom wanted us to stay here. I should talk to her before taking you to meet anyone."

  "What about your friends?"

  "Hey! Let's play cards. What games do you know?"

  Over Crazy Eights in the living room, Aron asked Lena about her stepmother. "Her name is Caris," Lena said. "She has blond hair. She's—" Lena chuckled. "It's funny. She's about my age. She has a baby. His name is Donovan."

  "I like babies."

  Lena offered a smile. "Good. Good."

  "Could I meet him too?"

  "I'll talk to your mom. Promise."

  "Can you show me where you work?"

  "Um…"

  "Please, Lena. Please. Can I see your school too?"

  Lena rubbed her forehead. "Aron, sweetie, why do you…" Why do you give a fuck about me? Why do you even like me? Why do you take an interest in me?

  "What?"

  Lena shook her head. She was Aron's mother too, all there was to it. "Okay. All right. I'll show you where I work."

  Aron jumped up from the loveseat. "Can we go in?"

  "Nope. It's a bar. You have to be twenty-one. Lemme see your driver's license."

  Aron giggled. "I'm thirty-one. Reverse thirteen."

  Lena got her keys. "Nice try, kiddo."

  *****

  So they drove to Azizi. Then to George Mason. Then to Pinewood. They stayed in the car everywhere. Aron was full of questions. She wanted to know every detail of Lena's classes, what her job was like, what being at Pinewood was like.

  "Can we go by your mom's house?" Aron asked on their way home.

  "Okay," Lena whispered, ignoring the voice inside that said such a trip was a bad idea. Because of course Aron would see lights on, would want to go in and meet Caris and Donovan, no matter the time.

  Seeing Caris…

  Lena wanted to see her. Of course she did. She had ached for Caris. She missed Caris. Regretted leaving Caris. Seeing Caris would be a nice quick little hit. Plus, Lena wanted to show off Aron. Beautiful, intelligent, curious Aron. And Caris was pretty much the only person Lena could show the girl off to.

  Lena parked near the townhouse and indicated the place. "Number 349. With the blue shutters."

  Lights on. Very much on. At least Aron was quiet. She kept her gaze on the townhouse, her eyes keen and observant. She probably thought the rain gutter was the bee's knees.

  Shit. Caris, I love you. I screwed up. It's been an awful week. I could not go to Pinewood. Until tonight, anyway. No way I can get near Grandma.

  Lena waited. Five minutes after they parked came the inevitable: "Can we go in, Lena?"

  "It's nine o'clock, sweetie."

  "Please?"

  Lena sighed, giving in. "Let me call my stepmother and see if she's up for visitors."

  *****

  Caris, her hair hanging long and loose, met them at the door. She wore sweat pants and an old T-shirt. Lena had to fight not to hug her, not to kiss the tantalizing crook of her neck. Instead, Lena placed a hand on Aron's shoulder. "This is Aron." My daughter. "She's been wanting to meet you."

  Caris's smile was bright, warm and welcoming. But obviously for the child, because Caris had a hard time meeting Lena's gaze. Caris held her hand out. "Hi, Aron. I'm glad you're here. I've been wanting to meet you, too."

  The girl's eyes went wide. "You have?"

  "Oh yes. Your mother's told me so much about you."

  "My mother? You mean Lena?"

  Caris blinked. "Right. Sorry."

  Aron smiled. "It's okay. She's kind of like my stepmother. Remember, Lena?"

  "I remember."

  "Well, come in," Caris ushered them into the house.

  The next thirty minutes were torture for Lena. She followed Caris and Aron around the house. Caris let Aron peek in on Donovan and give him a kiss, sat on the couch with her and asked the girl about her life, school and friends. They were good together. Beautiful together. Caris was patient and handled Aron's eager questions with grace and good humor.

  Only twice did Caris look at Lena—furtive, shy glances. More than enough for Lena to know that she and Caris would end up together someday. They had to. Maybe now w
as not their time, but their time was coming.

  Yes, it was coming.

  They would be together.

  At nine forty-five, Lena got to her feet. "We gotta go. Bedtime at ten."

  "Noooo."

  "Yep. Come on."

  Aron rolled her eyes. "Fine." She went to the fireplace mantle, apparently for a last look at Lena's high school graduation pictures.

  Caris rose as well. "Aron loves you," she whispered.

  Lena's chest constricted. "She does?"

  Slight, lopsided grin. "She does. Very much. She wants a picture of you."

  "She told you that?"

  "No. Look at her. Just look at her."

  Lena did not want to, not quite, but she forced her gaze to Aron. The girl was tracing the edges of a photo frame.

  "She loves you," Caris repeated.

  "I love her, too." Meaning, I love you.

  "I know you do," Caris said softly.

  Chapter 21

  Two weeks later, Caris started work. She was managing a new branch of Staples. Roses from George arrived at eleven o'clock—Roses are red, violets are blue, have a great first day at work, dear Caris!

  Shirley must not have told him about Lena.

  Caris called him after work to thank him. "How have you been doing?" she asked.

  "Not bad. I'm working on a special project. I'm pleased at how it's coming along."

  "Oh yeah? What project? Don't leave me in suspense."

  He laughed. "You'll see soon enough. I hope."

  "Come on."

  Another laugh. "Okay, okay. I'm taking an art class. I'm drawing different things, but mostly Dale. I keep seeing her on the boat, the wind in her hair, on her birthday two years ago. I'm trying to capture that. I keep failing, but I'll capture it someday."

  "Wow. That's amazing."

  "The class has an art show the end of every semester. Maybe you could come up in December for the show."

  "I'd love to."

  "Maybe you can help me with the drawing of Dale in the boat." George's voice was suddenly somber.

  "How can I help you?"

  "What was Dale keeping from me and Shirley?"

  "What?"

  "Dale had a secret. I never asked what it was. Figured that was something best between a mother and daughter. Thing is, I don't know if Shirley noticed. I never told her."

  "Oh." Caris glanced around her. She was in her bedroom, on the bed. She saw the walls Dale had painted, the furniture he had picked out. All long before he married her. George deserves to know. He can handle it.

  "Okay, George," Caris said, and told George about his daughter. Maybe George could capture the real Dale, like he had captured the real Shirley.

  *****

  Betty Crocker turned out to be a decent conversationalist. And her last name was Wilder. Elizabeth Ann "Betty" Wilder. Caris had come into Almond's at the end of her first week at work, hoping to get a buzz and maybe some decent company. The place was busy, and Caris did not see Betty until Betty was standing in front of her.

  "Hey," Betty said with a shy smile. "Remember me? You're Melanie Michaels, right?"

  Caris shook her head. "Melanie Michaels is my porn star name. I'm Caris. Have a seat. I'll buy you a drink."

  After Betty's drink was in place, Betty said that her porn star name was Fluffy Longbottom. "Melanie Michaels is better."

  Caris's margarita and her glass of Coke and vodka was taking effect. She leaned into Betty and laughed. "I don't know about that. You can't beat Fluffy Longbottom. So where's the stud?"

  "Todd?" Betty wrinkled her nose. "Who knows. You were right. He's an ass. I've been coming here once in a while, looking for you."

  Caris met her doe eyes.Not doe eyes anymore, though. "Why looking for me?"

  "That kiss. It—it—it changed my life. In a good way. I wanted to thank you. And maybe see if…" Betty did not complete the thought.

  "Changed your life how?" My God. Don't read so much into it. It was just a rash, impulsive act.

  "I had been sleepwalking," Betty said earnestly. "You woke me up."

  "Wow."

  Betty grinned. "Wow. Yeah. There's this guy—William—who I've been in love with forever. What you did gave me the courage to go up to him and kiss him like you kissed me. He jumped like a giant beetle was attacking him, but whatever. Point is, he knew how I felt. And the agony inside me was gone."

  "Good for you."

  Betty eyed her speculatively. Closed her hand over Caris's. "What's your story, Melanie Michaels Caris?"

  Betty's hand was okay. Felt good. Was not Lena's hand, of course. "My story," Caris muttered. "Where do I start?

  "The beginning?"

  Caris squeezed Betty's hand. "Makes sense."

  "Let's dance, and you can tell me."

  Almond's did not have a dance floor, although soft music played in the background. They got up, and Betty wrapped her arms around Caris. They swayed softly.

  "The beginning," Caris said, enjoying Betty's softness. Her plumpness. "I'm in love with my stepdaughter, and she loves me back."

  Betty laughed, and Caris did, too.

  "You're funny," Betty said.

  "Thank you. But I'm serious."

  Betty drew back. "Your stepdaughter?"

  "Her name's Lena. She's the same age I am. And…" Caris rubbed her cheek. Made her feel closer to Lena.

  "Wow," Betty murmured. "Does your partner know?"

  "No." At least, I hope not.

  *****

  The next morning, Lena paused in her mother's doorway. Shirley was reading to Dale in the wheelchair. "Tommy proceeded leisurely. By the time he reached the bend of the staircase, he had heard the man below disappear into a back room," Shirley said.

  Lena shifted her attention to Dale, who appeared about the same. She wore black sweat pants and an Atlanta Braves T-shirt. That'll be fun. Aron was a New York Mets fan. "All right," Lena whispered. She glanced at Joanna and Aron, who were waiting by the snack machine.

  Joanna gave her a little smile, and Lena smiled back. Lena had called Joanna on Thursday night, and they had had an hour-long conversation. A heart to heart. They'd ironed out their issues. Come to a new understanding. Lena had told Joanna that she, Joanna, was the children's mother, period.

  Joanna said she knew, but…

  There would always be a but, Joanna admitted. However, Joanna said she had always told the children they were special because they had two mommies and daddies. "And, Lena," Joanna added, "I mean it. You gave me two wonderful children. I know it was hard for you and still is. It's hard for me too, but these kids need all four of their parents."

  Now, Lena held up her pointer finger and mouthed: "One minute." She'd warned Joanna and Aron that her grandmother would likely be there.

  Lena went into the room. "Clearly no suspicion attached to him as yet," Shirley read. "To come to the house and ask for 'Mr. Brown' appeared indeed to be a reasonable and natural proceeding."

  "Grandma. Excuse me."

  Shirley glanced up. "Lena." She got up and hugged Lena tightly. Lena had not seen her since the Peaks of Otter trip, and if Shirley was angry at Lena for the relationship with Caris, she was not showing it. "Hi, Lena baby."

  Lena broke apart from Shirley. "Grandma, I've brought someone to meet Mom. Two someones, actually. They'd like to meet you too."

  "Who are they?"

  Lena took a deep breath. Her mother had told Shirley about the children. She had to have. "The woman's name is Joanna. The girl's name is Aron. Grandma, she is thirteen years old. She's my daughter."

  Shirley did not blink. No surprise. Just a plain, contained face.

  "All right, Grandma? I'm going to bring them in."

  Shirley swallowed, and her face collapsed for a second. "Yes, yes, please do, dear."

  Lena took her grandmother's hand. She studied it, really studied it for the first time. Her hand had character. Experience. Her hand had lived. Shirley wore her wedding ring, a gold band with a small, sim
ple emerald. Her skin was wrinkled. Precious few liver spots, though. She was in good shape. She would live a long time, and Lena was glad. Very glad. Lena brought the hand to her lips and kissed it. "I love you, Grandma."

  "I love you too, baby."

  Lena brought Shirley out to the hallway. Joanna gave a nervous smile. Aron, an even more nervous smile.

  "She's—she's black," Shirley said. "Lena, your daughter is black."

  Lena laughed. Laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. She guided Shirley to Aron and Joanna. "This is my grandmother, Shirley," Lena said. "This is Aron, and this is Joanna, her mother."

  "Hi, Shirley," Aron said, and Shirley cupped Aron's cheeks in her hands.

  "Hello, Aron," Shirley said. "I'm glad to finally meet you. Oh my. You're a beautiful girl, aren't you?"

  *****

  Caris missed visiting Dale. Well, not visiting Dale per se, but getting away. Pinewood had been like an oasis. A pause in rushed life, where she could slow down, stay as little or as long as she liked, cradle her son and listen to Shirley read.

  Instead of going to Pinewood, Caris left Donovan with Phyllis and went to Almond's. She usually met with Betty, who had become a good friend. Jennifer had not asked Caris again about her "mystery" lover, and Caris was glad. She was not sure she could have kept Lena's identity secret. In any case, Caris and Betty never left Almond's together; they were bar friends only. It worked for Caris. She liked being in Betty's arms, letting Betty hold her as they danced. Betty smelled good. Felt good. Was nice and funny. In other circumstances, who knew. Perhaps Caris would have ended up with Betty. However, every time Caris was at to Almond's, she hoped Lena would walk in. This bar was where Lena had used to hang out.

  But no Lena.