Elena Undone (35 page)

“Yeah, bully for me.”

*

Elena sat stoically as Barry preached, and again she vaguely heard the cadence of his voice full of words that did not register, until, he, of course, had to explain their circumstances and create an avenue to patch up this horrible mess she had made of things.

“...and sometimes a person gets lost on a path they never meant to take in the first place. We don’t punish them. We open up our arms, embrace them back into the fold.”

The congregants were very receptive to this offering, happy to be able to put this shameful and embarrassing event behind them, even if it would be the center of gossip for months to come. Tori raised her eyebrows, in a “whatever you wanna think” expression.

Nash took his mother’s hand, and gently held it through the remainder of the service.

A September Sunday two months later

Elena sat, looking uncomfortable and a little queasy as she tried to finish making dinner. Barry walked in, kissed Elena on the forehead, put his arms about her shoulders.

“How are you feeling?”

“Ohh...you know.”

Barry nabbed the boiling tea water, whistled while he made her tea and sat with her.

Silence.

“Elena...” Barry searched.

“I...I don’t want to talk. Really.”

“I know you need time. I’m not pushing you. It’s just that they’re beginning to...you know how they get—”

“Tell them I’m not feeling well,” she snapped. “Tell them I’ve got a headache. Tell them—I don’t care what you tell them.”

“Do you think you could at least try to put in an appearance—”

“So we can continue to play out this farce? No. I at least cannot do that. Please leave me alone.”

Barry got up, walked to her as if they never had this discussion. “Just think about it. I know everyone would love to see you.”

He took his tea and left the room.

A huge sigh filled the room. But it wasn’t from Elena. It was from Nash.

A Thursday in October

Peyton worked desultorily on an article about illegal immigration, unable to concentrate. Her OCD had flared up again, with all the stress she was under, and she had had to up her medication a bit to handle it. She had to get this article completed by the end of the day. But she had gotten a call from Elena’s number earlier that morning. She had seen it when she had gone to check her messages. Nothing had been said. Elena had clearly hung up before the machine even picked up, but now, two hours later, Peyton could not stop wondering about the call. Had Elena meant to call? Had it been an accidental dial off her cell phone? Had she been trying to call her before? If so, why? And how the hell dare she?

No. She was not going to do this.

Peyton got up, disconnected the phone.

Now maybe she would actually get some work done.

*

Nash sat across from both his father and mother in the small trinket-filled waiting room. Elena glanced from Nash to Barry and back adivy and bgain. They waited. Tension filled the silence as Nash tapped long nervous fingers against his skinny-leg Levi jeans.

They waited some more.

Finally the therapist entered the room.

*

“We’ll get through this Peyton,” Wave encouraged Peyton. “We always do.”

But both of them could hear the different tone in Wave’s voice. Not as certain now that it was three months later. This
was
different from anything they had encountered. Before this, neither of them had ever truly been in love. But this time, Peyton had been and they both knew it.

“Sure.” Peyton pretended to smile. “We’ll get through it.”

*

Elena moved through the house, picking up, organizing. As she was rearranging the photos and frames on the shelf in the living room, she picked up one in sterling silver.

Sarah. Her daughter. The picture they had always kept in their bedroom and nowhere else as if somehow by keeping her tucked away they wouldn’t have to think of her. But this simply wasn’t the case. And it made no sense in the world, Elena now thought, for their daughter not to reside with the rest of the family photos she had chosen to signify hearth and home.

With a sad, but resigned smile, Elena set the photo in the center of the hearth.

A Friday in November

Elena walked up to the church and had to stop and look at this structure which had been such a huge part of her life for the past almost twelve years now. She and Barry had really started their little family here, baptizing Nash, sharing their grief during funeral services for Sarah. Barry’s first couple of years here, when he had been the assistant pastor, until that third year when he had taken the reins. She remembered how thrilled they had been for his success, even if they both knew part of that was about Barry taking his performance to a new level.

This church had been a mainstay of her life all of these many years. She had devoted countless hours to its care, the meetings, fundraisers, fixing the back meeting room, refurbishing the pews, all the endless committees she had been involved with and the people who had become her family. Even if the Kinder program had allowed for her to be able to take care of the children away from the adults and their endless conversations about things she really didn’t care about, she was so proud of the great strides she had made in the program. Everyone had commented on the quality of care, the wonderful activities she had provided for the children, the high standards it set for other programs of its kind. She had been thrilled with its success, and this was the one part of the church which she found difficult to let go.

But she knew she had simply been walking through life, not living it. Not being inside the experience of it, because now she knew with absolute clarity that she would not miss any other part of this church and its inhabitants. Maybe Diana. But she couldn’t think of one other thing she would regret leaving. Not in the least.

Elena continued to walk into the empty church with a box, overflowing with toiletries, books, clothes.

She saw Barry at the altar, practicing, as he always did on Thursday and Friday evenings, his sermon. His “rehearsal hours.”

She walked up, set the box on the front pew and turned to him. He took a long moment sizing her up.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“I didn’t come to fight. I knew you would need this,” she said calmly, and gestured toward the box.

A mixture of emotion crossed his face, dominated by despair and resignation. “Don’t know what the therapy was all about when you knew all along this was the outcome.”

“The therapy was for Nash, Barry.”

Barry looked chastised a moment, then moved toward her.

“Elena, you know, maybe Nash was right...maybe I am clueless...but I know one thing if I know nothing else. You are
not
a lesbian.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps I am. After all, I fell in love with a woman.” Elena claimed this moment as her truth. “Doesn’t that make me one? Does it really matter, Barry? Really. If you put a label on it, will it make the outcome any different, any easier for either of us to deal with?”

“I still don’t understand. You’re not with
her
. Why the hell would you do this? To us. To Nash. This is so senseless—not to mention singularly selfish. Nash needs us.”

“Yes. He does. He needs the real us. The best of us.” Elena looked right up at him, kindness in her voice along with strength and conviction. “I’m done lying to him, to you. To me. This has nothing to do with Peyton. This is my decision about our son and my life —”

‘ “Your life,’ and ‘your son.’ God, Elena you are selfish.”

“If it’s selfish—so be it.” Elena embraced this last with an edge of fury. “I should have been done with this charade years ago.”

“Charade! Don’t you dare—Look you...you went right along with—”

“You’re right. You’re right. That’s what was selfish, staying here and not being inside it, really inside it
with
you!” Elena placed a hand to his chest. “I’m done with this, Barry...”

“Elena…” His eyes pleaded with her.

“I’m done.”

Their eyes met. A final recognition of who they had been to one another. Elena’s eyes filled with a glimmer of hope, for him, for her. For all their futures.

“Be well, Barry.”

She turned and walked from the church.

Barry walked to a pew in his church and slumped down into it, put his head in his hands. When he glanced up his eyes ran into a picture that had lived in the church for all these years and he hadn’t actually looked at. It was Jesus, herding his lost little lambs.

A Saturday in November

Peyton sat in the same room she had sat in almost a year ago now, in the same adoption orientation, listening intently to every word the instructor was saying. This time every word was essential and Peyton listened with full attention to putting her life back in order and on track. She made herself forget the shadowy memory of Elena, sitting right in that seat across from her, and how everything had started between them because she had lost her keys.

Later, after the class had dispersed, Peyton walked up to speak with the tall angular instructor, and responded to a question she had asked Peyton about where she had run off to for so long.

“I guess my life got a little carried away,” Peyton sighed, then smiled firmly. “But this time I’m not going to let anything get in the way.”

“Well, you certainly have a great application. I don’t think it will take long to find a placement for you.”

Peyton couldn’t wait to get to Pinot Latte to fill Wave in on the details. She dashed in, set herself up at her regular booth, waiting for Wave, who seemed nowhere to be seen until she realized that Wave was in the booth behind her with a beautiful African American woman. She was clearly an intellectual, the last kind of person Peyton would expect with Wave, closely cropped afro, sporting a vest, loose tie, oxford shirt. Since she must surely be a business associate, Peyton didn’t think twice about interrupting.

“Hey!” Peyton announced herself.

“Oh, Pey!” Wave jumped up and hugged her dearest friend, and then, turning to the stunning woman across from her, Wave’s voice fell into love octave. “And this is Tea Warrington.”

“T?” Peyton couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah, as in iced tea.”

“Oh.” Peyton smiled, leaned over and shook Tea’s hand. “How did you two meet?”

“Very indirectly,” Tea answered.

“Well, it’s the daftest thing ever,” Wave started, pulling Peyton into the booth and down next to her. “You know how I’ve been e-mailing back and forth for the past few years with this chicklet in India—just sort of as a virtual pen pal. I mean, isn’t that what Facebook is all about when you get right down to it? Just a bunch of pen pals with nothin’ better to do with their time than to nose into the business of others thousands of miles away?” Peyton was trying to follow Wave’s story. Wave smiled and shook her head. “Right then—back on track. Anyway, the Indian chicklet happened to have a friend visiting who was there training some of her horses. This friend was none other than
Tea!
Yeah, I mean a regular horse-whisperer this one.”

Tea grinned modestly. “I’ve been training show horses since I was sixteen. I’m not a whisperer but I do have a great respect for their grace, their simplicity and strength.”

Peyton was already impressed.

“Anyway Shaline, the Indian chick, told me it was weird because her friend Tea actually lived in the same city I did— Silverlake. Now how random is that? And when she came back, Shaline wanted Tea to deliver me a sari because I’d helped with some online donations they were running for one of the children’s clinics that Shaline works for. Turns out Tea works with the kids, helping the disabled ones by putting them on the horses, and the contact with the horses helps the kids, and the kid I’m sponsoring asked if Tea could hand deliver a thank you card because she had had so much fun riding.” Wave was breathless from her eagerness to tell the story.

“These kids get so much out of it.” Tea sighed in appreciation, then, winking at Wave, said, “And apparently so did I.”

Peyton cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so Tea delivers the sari and thank you note, arrived here last week, and I don’t think we’ve spent more than a few minutes apart since?” Wave looked at Tea to see if that was correct.

“What can I say…I can’t be away from you,” Tea stated matter of factly. No hyperbole, just a simple truth for her.

Peyton couldn’t believe it. Tea was nothing like the rest of the women Wave had serially dated. Tea had such a groundedness to her that it appeared to be rubbing off on Wave. Peyton couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Wave this calm and, she realized, so utterly graceful. As if Tea had put a spell on her.

“Anyway, I’m a bloody believer in fate, because you know, this is what Tyler told me was going to happen.”