Waiting Read online

  Caris nodded. She had gotten as far as she would with Lena.

  Lena took a few steps toward the door, then turned. "Hey. What color are my eyes today?"

  "Green."

  Lena seemed pleased. "Good. Green is more interesting than brown."

  "Didn't your mother take you to the hospital?"

  Lena's green eyes turned wary. "Yes." A pause. She added: "No one else was answering their phones."

  "Where was Caroline?"

  "I got up and told her I was fine. I asked her to leave, and she did."

  "You got up like—"

  "Haven't you been in a situation where you'd do anything to get the other person to leave you alone?"

  "She left just like that? Without making certain you were okay?"

  Lena's cheeks flushed. "What's the big deal?"

  "Do you love Caroline?"

  The question gave Lena pause. "I…I…I guess."

  "Here's the thing, Lena. I'm worried if she shows up, you will take her back. It can be hard to let go. If you're being abused—" Caris stopped. She was one to be talking. She would prefer the black eyes over Dale's mind games. So crazy. The past few months had been an awful roller coaster ride.

  Caris started again. "If you're being abused, you don't have to be. We can figure—"

  Lena snorted. "Because you got two black eyes doesn't mean I'm being abused. I can handle myself. And so what if I take her back? What's it to you?"

  "We're family. Why else did you tell me what happened with her?"

  Lena narrowed her eyes. "Goodbye."

  *****

  The throbbing in her breasts was unceasing. Caris had never hated milk more. Moo. Moo.

  Traffic was good for the drive from Inova Fairfax to the townhouse on Rundale Court. Caris looked at grass beginning to turn green with the promise of spring. At boring old suburbia. Strip malls. Seven-Elevens. Starbucks. Couples with dogs. With children. She could be anywhere. She could be in, say, Boston. Long Island. Oklahoma City. She was not necessarily in Northern Virginia. Dale won't be home. How can that be? Three days ago, she was walking around, living...fucking someone else?

  Stop at Baskin-Robbins.

  Stop at the mall.

  Stop at the flower shop.

  Go to Dulles. Buy plane tickets for somewhere. Anywhere that's not here. I bet Rome is good this time of year.

  "We're here," Phyllis said.

  Caris wandered upstairs to the nursery. Her breasts could wait a few more minutes. She and Dale had not finished the nursery, but the necessities were complete. Crib, fresh green paint on the walls, diaper changing table, rocking chair. Baby book. Caris slumped to the floor, pressing the book to her lips. The leathery kiss of dead cow failed to comfort her. No faux leather for Dale. First-class all the way for Daelyn Ismay, yes sir. Always.

  About a year ago, Dale had arrived home, with a gift. "Here," Dale said, an impish light in her expression.

  "A baby book?"

  Dale beamed. "Let's have a baby soon. What do you say?"

  Confusion washed through Caris. Before their wedding, before their engagement really, they had talked about kids. They had decided they would adopt an older child, especially given Dale's age. Fine with Caris. She had no overwhelming desire to get pregnant. She could take it or leave it. Lots of pros to not getting pregnant: no weight gain, no pain, intact body. Lots of older kids needed love and homes.

  "A baby?" Caris asked. "Do you mean—"

  "Let's look at sperm donors."

  "A baby," Caris repeated. She would not bring up the issue of Dale's age. Life was unpredictable. She could die years before Dale. There was work, though. Caris was making inroads in her job, with her promotion to manager.

  Dale deflated. "I was at the park today on my lunch break. Really cute kid there, maybe a year old. He kept saying 'Mama!' 'Mama!' I realized that…" Dale's cheeks flushed. "Stupid, huh? Never mind. His smile was, I don't know. He looked like Lena. Hard to explain. When she was younger, Lena was magic in my life. Having magic again would be nice. Not that I'm saying you're not magical. You're magic, baby."

  Dale rarely was at a loss for words and hated to show weakness. This is serious. For real. "Sure," Caris said. What difference did a few years make? Work would always be there. Family came first.

  Dale grinned, her eyes lighting up in a way Caris saw only occasionally. The light was pure, unbridled, joyous. If a baby was magic, maybe the magic was already starting.

  The first page of the baby book held four pictures: Dale and Caris, two months pregnant, four months pregnant, six months pregnant and from only last week, eight months pregnant. The next few pages showed photos from the baby shower and copies of a couple of sonograms. Caris flipped back to the first page, focusing on the photo of her two months pregnant, her baby bump truly only a bump. Dale beamed in a pinstripe business suit and purple tie. Her hand protectively covered Caris's stomach. The photo was taken just before their marriage nosedived.

  That was another life. Yesterday was another life.

  Caris wanted to cry. Tried to cry. Could not. I'll cry when the phone call comes. It's happened. Your wife passed away. Peacefully.

  *****

  Lena liked the middle school Nakeem Joseph and Aron Michelle attended, although she wondered if they felt out of place there. Nakeem and Aron lived in Silver Spring, Maryland, and their school was full of white faces. Nakeem and Aron were fairly dark, although Aron was lighter than Nakeem. Just a bit lighter.

  Nakeem's baseball game was in the third inning when Lena arrived, and he was manning third base. Easy to tell which one he was: the only black face. For that reason too, identifying Aron and her parents in the stands was easy. Lena sat as far from them as possible. She wore big sunglasses and a hat. She was in no way interested in interacting with Malik and Joanna Soundros. Nor with Nakeem or Aron, for that matter, because she was not supposed to be here. She was not staying long. The longer she stayed, the more risk of one of the Soundroses seeing her. Malik had given her the schedule for Nakeem's games, probably without Joanna's knowledge. Malik was a good guy, a great guy. Joanna was a wonderful parent too, and if Lena were in her place, Lena might be acting the same way.

  Lena had lied to Caris. Course she had. What was she supposed to say: This kid Nakeem, whom you don't know and never will, although he has a smile like yours, has a baseball game, and because of my work and school, it's probably the only game of his I'll get to see this season. So, yeah, I'm going to his game.

  Silver Spring, on a map, did not seem too far from where Lena lived in Alexandria, Virginia. Factor in D.C. traffic, though, and the trip easily could be on the far side of two hours. And that was one way.

  No way Lena could have done dinner with Caris.

  Lena got up to leave two innings after she arrived, after getting to see Nakeem belt out a single. He was a hustler, that one—took off like a bullet to first base and narrowly beat out the throw.

  "Lena?" The call came as Lena was passing the concession stand on the way to her car. Joanna. Shit.

  Lena pasted on a smile and turned around. Yep, Joanna, with Aron, and Aron grinned at her mother. "See, Mom, I told you that was Lena." The girl bestowed a shy smile upon Lena—the Caris smile, one end up more than the other. "Hey, Lena."

  Lena stayed a few arms' lengths from the child. "Hello, Aron. Looking good."

  "Like my hair? I got tired of the cornrows." The girl's hair was nappy, but not a full Afro.

  "It's beautiful."

  "You should've let us know you were coming," Joanna said.

  "Spur of the moment decision."

  "How did you know about the game?"

  Lena would spare Malik. "I got a schedule from the school."

  "What happened to your arm?" Aron asked.

  "Clumsy me tripped down the steps. Forgot to tie a shoelace."

  "Ouch."

  Lena laughed. "Yes, big ouch!"

  "Can I sign?"

  "I don't have the right pen for it.
"

  "Mom has one. Don't you?"

  Joanna, a shadow on her features, got a Sharpie from her purse.

  Aron read the messages on Lena's cast, which totaled ten by now. "You have a lot of friends."

  "Don't you?"

  The girl looked up at Lena and shrugged. "S'pose." Aron found a patch of white space. "I don't know what to write."

  "Draw a smiley face," Joanna suggested, so that was what Aron did. She added her name too: Aron M. And then: Nakeem J.

  "Perfect," Lena said. "Thank you, sweetie."

  "Don't go," Aron said. "Have dinner with us after the game. Can she, Mom?"

  "No, hon," Joanna said, her smile tight. "Lena has to let us know first if she's coming."

  "Your mother's right," Lena said. "I'll see you soon, though, okay?"

  "You won't," Aron said. "You weren't even going to say hi today."

  "You and your brother are getting birthday cards a bit early," Lena said. "I mailed them today."

  Aron's face lit up. "Really?"

  "Thirteen years old! Come on. What a huge birthday."

  "Come on, hon," Joanna said. "I'll set something up with Lena soon." She gave Lena a look and linked hands with her daughter. They walked off, slowly, their hips sashaying, and then Joanna laughed, and then Aron did too, and a painful, sickening heaviness constricted Lena.

  Chapter 4

  Throughout her pregnancy, Caris had wondered about the countless firsts coming her way. First diaper change. First breastfeed. First night at home with her baby. First time getting up in the night to answer the baby's cries. First tooth. First word. First birthday. Well, the first birthday was technically the day of the birth, right?

  Caris lay in bed, facing away from Jennifer. Facing the moon, the window. Freedom. First night at home with Donovan. No crying baby. Other than gulping hungrily at her breasts, Donovan was an angel. That made Caris uneasy. She had gobbled new-mother books, devoured them. Read horror stories to prepare herself, because no matter how bad her baby might be, no matter how much he cried, fussed, spit, threw up, refused to eat, plenty of other people's babies were worse. Now she wished he would cry so she would have something to do besides think and toss and turn.

  Caris gave up and trundled out of bed. Moonlight filtered through the nursery windows, cloaking Donovan in a silver spacesuit. "Hey, little alien," Caris said. She sat in the rocking chair, found a good angle through the bars of his crib, and watched him sleep. He was tiny, a fly, in his bed. Maybe she would go out tomorrow to buy a bassinet or a cradle. She probably would not go to the hospital. She would be doing everyone a favor if she stayed away from Dale. Her engagement ring and wedding ring were tucked away in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box, thanks to pregnancy bloating her fingers into Vienna sausages. Maybe these rings would wither and die in the drawer.

  "I'll do the best I can," she told her son. Her chest hurt. I'm a single mother. "I'll screw up, but I'll do my best for you. By you. Always." Earlier, at the hospital, Caris had cradled Donovan and looked into his eyes. She would have liked to say love overfilled her heart, joy seized her being, all that mushy crap, but she had been too scared, too fretful, worrying about Dale.

  She hauled herself from the chair and peered in at her son. His eyes fluttered open. "Hey, Donovan," she whispered.

  He made a little noise, and an intense loneliness pierced Caris. She checked the time. 12:45 a.m., April 3, and I still don't feel like his mother. I don't feel like anyone.

  She went into the bathroom and slipped her shirt off. Let's see these elephant, National Geographic breasts. They were fascinating. She could gawk at them for hours because they were so awful. The blue veins on her breasts reminded her of the spider web on Dale's scalp. When will I feel like a woman again? She wet a finger with her tongue. She rubbed the slickness onto a nipple and pinched. The soreness made her cry out. Barely started breastfeeding, and she was ready to go off. She pulled her sweat pants down halfway. The stretch marks on her stomach created a forest of twigs.

  Jesus Christ. Why am I torturing myself like this? No need to rub it in. She needed to assert herself, to stop letting herself and others trample her self-esteem.

  Caris checked the time again. One a.m. Lena would probably be up. On the nights Lena bartended, she did not get home until past two a.m. She likely had a late bedtime every night. No more letting Lena get away with her lies. No more letting her stepdaughter look at her in the way that said: Blond bimbo gold digger.

  Lena answered on the second ring, with a worried: "Caris?"

  "I'm not an idiot," Caris snapped. "You didn't have class."

  "I…but I did."

  "At least have the ovaries to say to my face: 'Hey, you know what? Thanks for the dinner offer, but no thanks.' I'd rather you tell me the truth than your lies. I'm not a fucking gold digger! I loved your mother. I love your mother."

  Lena did not reply for a long while, but the silence was strangely reassuring. As long as Caris was on the phone, she would not have to return to Jennifer. Or to Donovan. Or seek refuge in an empty living room.

  "I know," Lena whispered. "I know, Caris. I'm glad she had you."

  Caris reached for Dale's toothbrush. Its bristles were fraying. Maybe that was why Dale had not taken it to the Holiday Inn.

  "Are—are you okay?" Lena asked. "I mean, uh, considering."

  "Your mother needs a new toothbrush."

  "Oh."

  Another silence. Caris sat on the toilet. She lifted her gaze to the shower curtains, which were navy blue. Solid.

  Boring.

  Dale had picked them out, and Caris suddenly preferred something bright. Colorful.

  "Well, I'll, you know, I'll get her a toothbrush tomorrow," Lena said. "One of these fancy electric ones, right? What color should I get?"

  Tears sprang to Caris's eyes, and she wiped them away. Lena was sweet. Humoring her. Pretending Dale would need a toothbrush again one day. Well, hell. Lena was probably doing it for herself too. Maybe Caris ought to play along.

  "I guess blue," Lena went on. "It's still her favorite color, right?"

  "Like the shower curtains."

  "Okay. The shower cur—okay."

  "She hasn't used electric toothbrushes in a while."

  "I'll get a regular one."

  Caris heaved herself up. Time to try to sleep again. Time to face reality again. "Don't worry about the toothbrush. I'll get it. Anyway, I better go. Hope I didn't wake you."

  "I don't mind getting the toothbrush. And you didn't wake me."

  Something in Lena's voice gave Caris pause. Something sad. Something lonely. "What were you doing?"

  Lena sighed, long and heavy. "Just looking at pictures."

  "Of your mom?"

  "No, uh, just…"

  Ah. "Caroline."

  "No. Look, Caris, I'll call soon. I promise. We'll do dinner or something."

  "Okay," Caris said slowly. "Okay."

  *****

  Shirley arrived about nine o'clock in the morning, unannounced. "Want to go to the hospital with me?"

  "Where's George?" Caris asked.

  "He stayed with Dale last night."

  Caris avoided the earlier question. "I'm getting a bassinet or cradle for Donovan. The crib swallows him up."

  "Good idea. I'll go with you, then we'll visit Dale. Having Donovan with her will be good medicine."

  "Don't know if he'll be allowed in her room."

  "We'll find out."

  "Shirley." Caris reached for her mother-in-law's shoulder, trying to convey gentleness in the touch. "It's best if I don't see Dale right now."

  Disapproval puckered Shirley's lips. "You saw her already."

  "Yes, to tell her the baby's name and to show her a picture."

  Shirley fished a tube of lipstick from her purse. "Revlon. Best brand."

  "Okay."

  "My daughter loves you."

  "Maybe. She hasn't been treating me well."

  Shirley applied her lipstick and caref
ully replaced the tube. "Dale needs you right now. Put everything else aside."

  Caris could not verbalize her answer. Dale called me a fucking idiot for miscalculating a decimal point. She called me a whore like my mother because she thought I was flirting with a grocery store clerk. And that's just two in a long list. Caris could not simply grin and pretend nothing happened.

  "Is she cheating?" Shirley asked.

  "Probably."

  Shirley steered Caris to the couch. "Dale's not perfect. She makes mistakes. All people do."

  Caris had a feeling what Shirley would say next. Probably George had cheated, Shirley had kicked him out, they had fought, but eventually found their way back together.

  "When I was younger, I cheated on George," Shirley said quietly.

  Caris tried to find Shirley's eyes, but Shirley avoided her. "I made a mistake and hurt George immensely. It took a couple of years for him to trust me again, but you know what? I cheated. I still loved him with all my heart. The cheating did not mean I loved him less. My husband and I fought for each other and learned from our mistakes. Dale's the other mother of your son. She loves you. I remember when she called to announce she was engaged. She'd never sounded happier. She went on and on about you, your hair, your laugh, your eyes, your humor."

  "Why'd you cheat?"

  Shirley brought out her Revlon again. "I was lonely. George was in the army and overseas."

  "Oh."

  Shirley patted Caris's leg. "So," Shirley said. "We'll buy the bassinet or cradle—my treat—and go to the hospital."

  "All right," Caris mumbled. She would stay five minutes and leave. If Caris seeing Dale for five minutes would help her grieving mother-in-law, Caris could do that.

  Dale looked much the same as she had the day before. Same spider web of a head, same everything. However, George looked like he had aged ten years. Shirley handed over a key to the hotel room where they were staying. "Room 341. See you tonight." They kissed goodbye—quick pecks on the lips—and Caris searched for love in George's eyes, in Shirley's eyes. Did not find it.