Daisy (7 page)
“I’m . . . sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
Without warning, Livvy jumped in, patting her copy of the book and totally changing the subject. “Adah’s character fascinates me.” She went on to explain how Adah came to realize she limped out of habit, finding comfort in her disability.
To my relief, Livvy’s attempt to change the subject worked, and the conversation continued in other directions after that. Livvy talked about her favorite parts of the book, delving into all kinds of political analogies I’d somehow missed completely. I had to admit I was surprised by Livvy’s comments. I hadn’t pegged her as someone with so much depth. Ilana participated more in the discussion, and we talked about the individual characters and how, even though their hardships were the same in regard to time and place and being dominated by a zealot, they all had different reactions—different kinds of growth that came from their struggles. Livvy relayed a few of her favorite quotes, and one of them was something I’d noted when I read it, but had forgotten until now.
Orleanna, the dominated wife for whom I had great sympathy—and annoyance—throughout the story, had summed up the state her life was in when the story began: “I had washed up there on the riptide of my husband’s confidence and the undertow of my children’s needs.”
I could so relate to that, but I didn’t dare say anything, especially in regard to all that had happened with my daughter these last weeks. Paul certainly wasn’t a riptide, but Jared had been. Still was. My children, much as I loved them, had felt like undertows all of my life. I looked at Livvy and wondered how she felt toward her family. Did she feel the undertow? I had a feeling she did, but that she used strong strokes to keep them all above the waterline.
“Well, it’s getting late,” Ruby said as the discussion started winding down. “Does anyone have a suggestion for next month’s book?” She looked at Paige, who was texting. I grimaced. Older people didn’t much care for the distraction of technology. “Would you like to choose it, Paige?”
She didn’t look up, intent on the message she was sending.
“Paige?”
She looked up quickly and dropped the phone into her lap, clasping her hands over it. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Ruby was asking if you’d picked out the book for next month,” Livvy said. “It’s your turn.”
“Oh, um, I’m not sure right off the top of my head. Do any of you guys have one in mind?”
We were all silent, and then Livvy cleared her throat. “Actually,
The
Poisonwood Bible
reminded me of another book—very different, of course—that I read a long time ago. It’s called
My Name Is Asher Lev.
Have you guys ever read it?”
“I have,” I said. “Or at least I read part of it when I was dating a guy who was Jewish.” I smiled sheepishly. “I stopped reading when we broke up, though, so I never finished it. It’s by Potok, right?”
“Right,” Ilana said.
I wondered if she’d be uncomfortable with the book, but she didn’t seem to be. She’d said she was agnostic, so maybe religion just wasn’t a hot topic for her either way. Certainly there was more to
My Name Is Asher Lev
than religion, just as there was more to
The Poisonwood Bible.
“We don’t have to read something Jewish your very first month,” Paige said, voicing my discomfort.
“I don’t mind,” Ilana said, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again the other direction. “I’ve read
The Chosen
and really liked it.”
Livvy nodded and scooted forward in her chair again. “Not that we want religion to be a theme or anything, but I loved the way that Potok delved into the interpersonal relationships, into specific practices of his orthodox life and found himself within those things but also outside of them.”
I blinked. Holy moly, there was more to Livvy than met the eye.
Ruby clapped. “Sounds delightful. I’ve never read that one, but I visited Israel many years ago and it was wonderful.” She turned to Paige. “What do you think, dear?”
“I’ve read something by Potok, but I don’t think it was that book. I’m totally up for it.”
We confirmed next month’s date—December fourth—and finished things up. Livvy and Paige each had another éclair. I still felt bad about the one I had no desire to eat, so I rolled it up in my napkin in hopes no one would remember, and tucked it in my purse. Ruby walked us to the door, and we said our good-byes “until next month.”
As the three of us headed down the walk, Ruby called after us. “I’ll let Athena and Shannon know about the new book. See you gals next month. Oh, maybe I’ll find a latke recipe so our refreshments will be Jewish! Ilana, if our meeting ends up during Chanukah, could you still make it?”
“I don’t celebrate either holiday,” Ilana said. “So I’ll be here.”
I cast a sidelong look at her, but she didn’t seem annoyed with Ruby’s comment. Whatever her feelings were, she was at peace with them, which made me realize that although I had stepped away from the religion of my youth, I wasn’t at peace with that division yet. The realization bothered me, but I waved good-bye while Ruby said something else to Paige, who was closest to her.
I went to bed at nine thirty, explaining to Paul how tired I was.
“You’re always tired lately,” he said, pouting a little. He’d wanted to go out for a late movie.
I apologized again and went to bed, but then stared at the ceiling as Paige’s words came back to me.
Nausea and fatigue? Maybe you’re pregnant.
But I’d told her it was impossible, and it was. Whatever was making me feel this way was something else. I rolled over and pushed the thought out of my head. I had enough to worry about without dwelling on impossibilities.
Sunday night I got a call on my cell phone from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?” I said, answering it with one hand while I continued emptying the dishwasher with the other. With only two of us at home, I was running the dishwasher only twice a week. Ironically, it made emptying the dishwasher seem like more work now that it wasn’t part of my typical routine.
“Is this Daisy?”
I recognized the voice but didn’t quite place it before the caller introduced herself. “It’s Ruby—from book group.”
“Oh, hi, Ruby,” I said, smiling. “How are you doing?”
“I’m alright,” she said, but I could hear the distress in her voice. “I just spoke with Athena. I called to tell her about the new book, and I found out why she wasn’t there last night.”
“Oh?”
“Her mother was involved in a car accident Friday night,” Ruby explained. “She was killed.”
I stood up straight, holding a casserole dish in my hand. “Oh, that’s awful.”
“I know. I’m just heartbroken about it. That poor girl. She’s a tough cookie, that Athena, but there’s no doubt this is a horrible thing for her to have to deal with. When I got off the phone with her, I opened my paper and found her mother’s obituary. She’s as pretty as Athena is; they could have been sisters. It said the funeral’s on Wednesday at Saint Paul’s Greek Orthodox Church in Irvine. I thought it might be nice if some of us could attend and support her.”
My instant reaction was that going to Athena’s mother’s funeral seemed a little extreme. I’d only met Athena once several weeks ago. Didn’t it seem almost . . .
pretentious
to assume I was important enough in her life that it would make some kind of difference to her if I were there? But I hesitated to say that to Ruby, who obviously thought going was a good idea. She somehow interpreted my hesitation as agreement.
“The services start at eleven, and I already called the priest to make sure that you don’t have to be Greek Orthodox to attend. He assured me it was open to anyone connected to the family. He also said that it would be wonderful for us to come and that Athena and her sister are taking care of all the arrangements themselves due to their father’s failing health. Can you imagine that? She’s so young to lose a parent so tragically, and her father isn’t well either. I just feel awful.”
So did I, but I wasn’t sure I could make it to the funeral. I hurried to my planner and put the casserole dish down as I flipped through the days. “Did you say the funeral was Wednesday?”
“Yes,” Ruby verified. “Shannon can’t make it, but if it’s possible, I think Athena could use the support. Maybe we could all chip in for some flowers or something.”
It was crazy to think she needed our support, but I’d caught some of Ruby’s compassion and found that I did want to be there to support this new friend. Maybe it would seem weird, but maybe it was just what she needed. The other people there would likely be friends of the family, dealing with their own grief. While I was certainly sympathetic, I didn’t know Athena’s mother. I could be there to support Athena, if she needed it.
I stared at the page in my planner and remembered that Wednesday was my open morning. “I can go,” I said, relieved to be able to say so. “And I’m still happy to go in on some flowers, or maybe a houseplant that will last a little longer.”
“Oh, that’s an excellent idea,” Ruby said. “My sister gave me a ficus when Phil passed away. I still have it in the living room—do you remember it? It was in the corner by the piano?”
I smiled. Ruby was a very sweet woman with a big heart. “I do remember that tree; it’s lovely.”
“It reminds me of Phil every time I see it. I’ll call a florist and see what I can find.”
“Have you already spoken to Paige and Livvy?” Saying their names reminded me of Paige’s comment about my being pregnant. The memory deadened some of my enthusiasm to see her again, but that made me feel bad too. She had jumped to a poor conclusion, but why should that make me uncomfortable? If anything,
she
should feel bad about what she said.
“Not yet,” Ruby said. “Your name is the first one on my list after Athena; it’s alphabetical by first name. I didn’t tell her I was calling you gals about coming—do you think that’s okay?”
“Yes,” I assured her. “We’ll be there to share our support any way we can.”
“Right,” Ruby said. “I’ll give Livvy a call. Would you mind calling Paige?”
I did, a little, but it seemed petty to say so and would therefore require Ruby to make two calls instead of one. “Sure,” I said. “Do you have her number?”
Ruby gave it to me, and I dialed Paige’s number after I wrote the funeral details into my planner. There was a good chance it would cut into my lunch break, but my first conference call wasn’t until two o’clock, so I would be okay. I’d have to look up the address of the church to find out whether it was worth going into work for an hour before the service or if it made more sense to have a lazy morning. Paige picked up on the third ring.
“Hello?” she said, sounding tired.
“Hi, Paige. It’s Daisy, from book group.” I could hear the sound of a TV in the background.
She paused and then said, “Oh, hi.”
I hurried to explain what had happened in hopes it would cover the awkwardness.
“Poor Athena,” she said when I finished. A little voice yelled for a drink, and she moved the phone away to tell him just a minute. The chaos in the background of her home made my house feel stagnant. “I’m not sure if I can make Wednesday work, though. I won’t know until I get into the office tomorrow. I’d like to go if I can, and I can go in on the plant too.”
“Well, why don’t you give me a call when you know one way or another? This is my cell number.”
“Okay,” Paige said. She paused and then continued. “I’ve been thinking about you today,” she said in a humble tone. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. I really didn’t mean to.”
“Oh, no,” I said, exaggerating how
not
bugged I was in hopes it would make me seem older and wiser and confident of my position. “I wasn’t bothered a bit. Don’t worry about it for another second.”
“Oh, good,” Paige said, proving that she’d fallen for my assertions. “Sometimes I just say too much, ya know?”
“No worries,” I said. “I’ll look forward to hearing whether or not you can make it.”
“I should know by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Good deal.”
The little voice again demanded a drink. I heard Paige sigh and couldn’t help but try to encourage her.
“Hang in there,” I said. I wasn’t sure if Paige understood, but it was good for me to have a moment of empathy. She was young, alone, and raising two kids; I knew what that felt like. I also didn’t want her to think I was holding a grudge.
“Thanks,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Paige called me Monday afternoon and said she’d been able to trade her work schedule from Wednesday to Saturday. I was impressed with her determination to go to the funeral. “Will you be okay getting child care worked out on Saturday?”
“I called my motherin-law; she lives in Orange. With Doug in Denver, she helps out with the boys when she can.”
Doug must be the ex-husband. I could hear her tone change when she’d said his name. “Okay,” I said. “Just keep me in mind if you need a babysitter some time. My house is a little lonely these days.”
“Oh, you’re sweet,” Paige said in a tone that clearly communicated she wasn’t really considering my offer. I couldn’t really blame her. She went to church and had her own network of people there. Not only a church, but the
Mormon
church; she’d made a big deal about how focused they were on helping each other out. It was probably a good thing that she didn’t take me up on it anyway. I hadn’t been around little kids for a long time. I didn’t really know why I’d offered. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
I hung up and went back to work, but I realized that in that split second between thinking about it and offering to watch her boys, I’d really wanted to do it. I knew that had to do with Stormy being gone. I missed her. And the house was so quiet without her music blaring or her friends laughing in her room. I could use a little noise. Feeling nostalgic, I pulled out my phone and sent Stormy a text, just telling her I was thinking about her and hoped she was having a good day. I ended with
Wub-oo,
realizing we hadn’t said our secret word in a long time.
She texted back about ten minutes later.
Wub-oo 2. Can I come over this weekend?
My heart leapt in my chest. I couldn’t reply fast enough that it would be great to have her.
Cool. Hannah’s bday prty is Friday. Can you pick me up after play practice?
Sure. Can you stay until Sunday?
Yeah. Dad’s going to clean out his storage unit so I need somewhere to hide.
I should probably have been offended that her reason for coming was to get out of work, but I was so starved for positive interaction with my daughter that I let it slide right over me.
Great!!!!!
I told Paul about it when I got home, knowing I sounded pathetic about being so excited to have Stormy come. His reception of the news was a little cool. “I thought we were going to go up to Huntington Beach on Saturday.”
Shoot. I’d forgotten that we’d talked about renting some beach cruisers and following the bike path along the coast before the weather got too cold, but Paul and I had had every evening and weekend to ourselves for nearly a month. Surely he could see that making a change of plans to accommodate my daughter’s visit was reasonable. “Maybe we could all go.”
“Stormy isn’t going to want to ride a bike.”
He was right. She wouldn’t. “Well, maybe we could all go to Habana Cabana for dinner, and you and I can do the bikes next weekend.”
Paul shrugged and went back to whatever he was doing on his computer. “Sure.”
I had stopped at the library on the way home, glad to be able to borrow a copy of
My Name Is Asher Lev
instead of having to buy it, and with Paul pouting, now was the perfect time to get started on it. It wasn’t as long as
The Poisonwood Bible,
but it was a pretty big book in hardback. I fixed a simple dinner of spaghetti using the leftover sauce from last week—leftovers seemed to propagate without a teenager around to eat them—and then disappeared into my room where I settled into my new evening routine of freedom and flexibility and got lost in the story of
another
religious family. I found it ironic that both
Poisonwood Bible
and
Asher Lev
were about such zealous families, but it served to deepen my principle of not letting other people determine who you should be.
I wasn’t Orleanna from
Poisonwood
who danced to her husband’s twisted tune in the name of devotion and fear. And I wasn’t Rivkeh Lev, pulled between the love of my child and the confines of an archaic lifestyle and domineering husband. For all my mistakes and poor choices, I’d been a strong woman who thought for herself and made the best of those less-than-sparkly situations. I was proud of that. I only wished that strength felt like strength when you were in the middle of things. Right now, I was beginning to feel stagnant as my life had narrowed in focus to two things: work and Paul. Both good things, but I needed more. These books were a start, but maybe I also needed to find a hobby or take a class of some kind. I might not be Orleanna or Rivkeh, but was I becoming vague and undefined in my own right?
I kept reading, admiring Asher’s passion and commiserating at the conflict it put between him and his religious community. Though not as extreme, I’d been there too. It wasn’t until I’d stepped away from the church-centered life of my parents that I realized how much of my life had centered on it as well. It had been a difficult and lonely shift for me. I looked forward to seeing how things ended for Asher. I hoped they ended well. I could use a happy ending right about now.
