Club Sandwich (45 page)

“Do you think she’ll die?” he asks.

“Not today. But this can’t bode well for the future. First the diabetes, then the stents in her neck arteries, the dialysis, now this.”

Brett roots in her purse and pulls out a tin of mints. “I think we have to face facts, guys. Her days are numbered.”

Brian runs from the room.

“Get us another coffee while you’re at it!” Brett hollers. “He’s going to have to face this, Ive. For Mom’s sake if nothing else.”

“I think he wants to change. I really do. He just can’t do it on his own, and he can’t trust in that vengeful God we grew up with.”

“Yeah.” She opens the tin and holds it out. I take a mint and place it on my tongue. “It’s taken me years to get over Him. Well, not Him, Him. Just the Him they said He was.”

“Scary as it sounds, I understand that exactly.”

We turn back to our magazines, the clock moving forward. I’ve learned in hospitals and doctors’ offices to take the time they estimate for the procedure and multiply by two. Some family of bikers monopolizes the television with Spike TV.

“What’s going on at home, Brett?”

“Same old. I put my foot down. Told Marcus I couldn’t personally support his campaign. I mean, don’t I have the right to live by my own code? And do you know what that rat said?”

“What?”

“He said, ‘Well, as long as your mom is sick, at least we have an excuse.’ ”

“What a pig.”

I shouldn’t have said that.

“It’s true. What did I ever see in that man?”

“Don’t blame yourself for that. He was charming and settled. This is a midlife crisis.”

“You think we can weather this?”

“If you want to.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“I don’t know then. You can’t force him to stay.”

She grins. “Maybe I could push him out in various other ways.”

I laugh. “Make his life miserable?”

“I wouldn’t be the first woman to do so!”

“You won’t, though.”

“I know. The Starling in me hangs on till the last hurrah.”

I squeeze her knee. “It’s a good thing, Brett. Then you know you did all you could. Just make a nice home for him, and do whatever you need to do to feel fulfilled yourself. Maybe it’ll free you up to love him again.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I’m glad Rusty’s home, though.”

“Me too.”

She puts her arm around my shoulder; I put my arms around her waist and we sit there together. Dear God, I love my sister so much.

Harry enters the waiting room awhile later. We’ve sipped the lattes Brian dropped off before going who knows where. After the coffee, we shared a bag of Kettle Chips, two packages of Swiss Cheese on Wheat, and a sleeve of Caramel Creams. We looked at the copy
of
Teen People
hanging about, and for heaven’s sake, is this what Lyra’s been reading? Perused a
New Homes
booklet as well as the
Apartment Guide
. Then, much to our chagrin, we were subjected to Spike TV’s
Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue Special
, and how embarrassing is that? Brett kept muttering, “I have got to start losing some weight.” I ate another Caramel Cream. But hey, that’s what the bikers want to watch, and I’m not about to get up and switch it to something else. I don’t want to end up in surgery myself today.

Harry nods once to the head biker, a very skinny guy with a black Fu Manchu mustache and acne scars, then turns to us. “Hey girls.”

“Dad!” I jump up. “Have a seat. She should be up soon. The doctor’ll give us the scoop.”

He kneads his cap. “Hey Brett.”

“Dad.”

“Brett, can we go for a walk?”

She stiffens but nods.

“Okay, Dad. Let’s go.”

My nerves jump. I called him
Dad
too.

Dr. Merritt enters the waiting room, pulling off his surgical cap, then rearranges his mountain of hair. Harry and Brett are still out. Lots to say, I’m sure. Stuff I know I just don’t want to hear.

“Well, she’s finished and in the recovery room. You can go in after we talk.”

“Great. How did it go?”

“There was a lot of blockage. But we were able to put in two stents. I think we can treat her medically.”

“No open-heart?”

“As of this point, no. Two arteries are ninety percent blocked. We’ll see how she progresses.”

“Would it be better to just go ahead with the surgery?”

“In some cases I’d recommend that. But after all she’s been through, I’d hate to take that chance right now.”

I feel the tears pricking my eyes.

He notices, bless him.

“This is always hard on the family,” he says. “Believe me, I know.”

“You’ve been through this?”

“Yes. My own mother sure had her trials.”

“Has she passed away?”

“Two years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I understand you’re the one who cares for her.” I nod.

“You’re doing a fine job, Mrs. Schneider. She speaks very highly of you.”

My heart swells.

“She should be able to go home in a few days. We’ll be starting her on some heart medication, and she’ll certainly have to watch her diet, limit her cholesterol.”

I nod again. Nod, nod, nod. Doctors must feel like they do nothing but talk to dashboard ornaments. “She’s always had a hard time eating low fat.”

Now he nods.

And I nod.

And he clears his throat, and we say our adieus, and I sit back down, exhausted.

The publisher hates my new story line, Candace Frost told me. On my cell phone, she sounded full of regret but hopeful. I told her I wanted to write a memoir. She said fine. Even if it stinks it’ll be better than writing nothing.

“And you never know, Ivy. It may actually end up as a winner.”

She has to say this. She’s my agent.

“Can I keep Jane?”

“Yeah. But they want a sexy name. And Maximilian needs to be just plain evil.”

Oh great.

Club Sandwich sits around my living room. We’ve all got our chosen seats now, and every week we set our fannies in the same places.

“Can I go first?” Krystal.

“Go for it.” Debbie.

“Well, I’m just praisin’ the Lord this afternoon. Help is on the way!”

I cut myself another piece of Debbie’s cinnamon cream-cheese coffee cake.

“My Aunt Prisma is coming up from North Carolina tomorrow! God bless that woman.”

“Great news!” Dani.

“Tell me about it. Aunt Prisma can make a bedbug feel at home. I’ve never met a woman quite like her. So if you’ve been praying I find me some help, the answer is here.” Krystal takes another
slice of cake too. “Now, Ivy girl, you been through the mill lately. How’s Dorothy?”

“She’s sleeping in her room. I can’t believe she’s home.”

“How’s the trek to dialysis?” Dani.

“With Reuben and Harry around, and Rusty too, we’ve got it covered.”

Debbie. “We can’t do it alone.”

Krystal raises a hand. “Amen to that!”

Debbie grabs the hand. “Thank heavens for you all. It’s good to have neighbors and friends.”

Now this is what I call a support group!

“How’s Mrs. Waxman these days?” Dani.

Debbie rolls her eyes. “You know, I’m not sure why we brought her to live with us. She’s perfectly capable of caring for herself.”

“Maybe you got to give her the boot.” Krystal laughs,
ha-haahh!

“No joke. I’m considering it.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Better believe it. I can’t subject my kids to this for no reason.”

“You got that right.” Krystal.

Brenda sits up straight. “You’re right, Debbie. They’re the most precious gift a woman can receive.”

We’re silent for a moment. Reverence is deserved. For as much as we complain about being sandwiched between two generations, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kirsten speaks up. “Give her the boot, Debbie. You really need to keep your sanity as long as possible. Because you can bet every last dime you have that she’ll be back!”

At the end of the meeting Reuben enters the living room.

“Wow, Dad, you look spiffy!”

“I’m here to pick up my date.”

“Your date?”

Kirsten raises her hand. “I believe that would be me.”

“No way!”

Well, what do you know. Could anything be more fabulous?

Rusty walks in from the kitchen. “Call us if you’re not going to be home by midnight.” He slaps Reuben on the back.

Krystal claps, lets out a hoot, and gets her praise on. “Thank You, Jesus! Thank You, Jesus!”

S
ummer arrived dressed up in cool breezes and gray skies. Mom went to dialysis three days a week, lay exhausted from dialysis the other three, and so each Sunday proved to be the good day. We loved it, churching it together, family dinner afterward, Dani dragging Brian along, Brett joining the gaggle. She ended up going to a small church filled with hippie people that meets on Friday nights and shares communion as an actual meal and feeds the homeless and takes in prostitutes. Sometimes you just can’t hazard a real guess, can you?

I’m thinking about going there myself!

I suppose I always imagined something big had to happen to mature my brother, but it wasn’t that way at all. It was a little exercise trainer and her daughter.

We buried Dani’s mother in July. A suicide. Overdose. Dani cried, and Brian became strong because somebody finally needed him to.

Dani turned back to God, and her daughter Rosa loves going to Sunday school. She and Trixie became little buddies, playing with Lyra’s old Barbies and dress-ups. I swear, a revolving front door would have been a good investment here on Allegheny Avenue. But I loved it. Rusty did too. When Reuben’s condo was finished, we all tried to persuade him to stay, but living with Harry? Well, what old man wants to live with another old man longer than necessary? He
and Kirsten are planning a Christmas wedding, so the condo’s up for sale, and he’ll move into the big house in Lutherville afterward. Kirsten farmed out most of the family antiques to cousins she barely knew. Rusty and I are the honor attendants! I can’t imagine being a matron of honor at my age, but Kirsten didn’t keep in touch with her schoolmates. We’ve had so much fun planning this wedding, Lou and Brenda in on it, Lyra volunteering to make the favors, Brian taking on the catering. And Krystal’s officiating after Debbie sings a solo. That woman can sing like an angel. Not that I’ve ever heard one, but I can’t imagine anything sounding prettier.

Brett’s still crossing her fingers that Marcus will lose in the primary. Even the girls don’t appreciate their stepdad’s newfound obsession, which does give me hope for them. Actually, Ashley’s thinking about majoring in special education. Brett’s thrilled. She said, “That sounds like something Lyra would do!” Which thrilled me. Ashley loves their new church, or “gathering” as they call it.

Autumn wheeled around the corner a few weeks ago. Skidded, more like it. I felt like summer had just begun.

The family left for school a few minutes ago. Rusty took the job at the school in Bel Air, and so he totes Persy and Trixie along. Harry’s off to Wal-Mart, lunch pail in tote, working in their optometry office there now. I’ve been doing the newsletter for almost a year now, and Mitch is more pleased with each issue. Somehow our friendship has been able to pick up where we left it before that locker-room kiss all those years ago. Funny how one small moment can grow into something so momentous years on down the road. I have to give him credit for hanging in there anyway. If I were him, I’d have moved away. But Mitch stays, working on cars, finding people jobs, and traveling his life away. I’m praying God will send him a good woman.