Julia's Daughters (20 page)

Chapter 33

Julia

 

The next night I stand at the bathroom door in our hotel room outside of Chicago, my cell phone in my hand. “Stay in the room, girls,” I say, feeling so tired, I can barely put one foot in front of the other. “Or you're dead meat.”

Izzy laughs and looks back at the TV, stuffing a French fry in her mouth.

She and Haley are sitting on the same bed, eating chicken sandwiches and fries. No vegetables; we've unanimously declared this expedition to be vegetable-free. At least until we get to Laney's where we know we'll be bombarded by big salads and plates of steamed organic vegetables.

Haley and Izzy aren't talking to each other, at least Izzy isn't talking to Haley, but Izzy
is
sitting near her sister, of her own volition. Mostly because she couldn't see the TV from our bed, but I'll take what I can get.

In the bathroom, I turn on the shower so the girls can't overhear my conversation, and I call Laney.

“Hey, sweetie,” she answers the phone. “I've been waiting to hear from you.” I hear her say, her voice muffled, “Boys, take it in the other room.”

As we've driven east, we've crossed time zones. We're only an hour behind Laney tonight and it makes me feel closer to her. Tonight, I feel like I'm actually going to make it to Maine. This time last night, I had my doubts.

“Where are you?” Laney asks me.

“Chicago.” I lean forward and look into the mirror over the sink. I look like hell. Another ten-hour day in the car. “Somewhere outside of Chicago. I'm not even sure what town. Haley made the reservation.”

“So you've still got her? Excellent,” she teases.

I don't laugh, but I smile. I stayed up half the night last night, talking to Laney. Crying and talking, first in the hallway outside our hotel room, then inside the room when I started to scare other guests with my crying jags. Laney was the true friend she's always been. She coddled me when I needed coddling and she told me to knock it the hell off when I started slipping into the depths of self-pity.

“How'd the day go?” she asks me.

“Good.” I think about it for a second and realize it really was . . . not bad. “Pretty good,” I clarify. “For some reason, telling Haley about my pregnancy has made her . . . I don't know. Less hostile. Haley's still rubbing her arm, but she hasn't cut herself since we left. If she was going to do it, I think she would have last night after I screamed at her. Don't you think?”

I'm not really looking for an answer. I take my toothbrush out of my toiletries bag on the sink and squirt toothpaste from a travel-size tube. “No, the day wasn't half bad. Haley offered to let Izzy ride up front this afternoon and she kept the cat on the backseat. We played the license plate game twice.” I groan. “It's getting old, but it passes the time and it's something we can all do together without anyone getting angry or crying.”

Laney laughs. “And the conversations today?”

“Meh.” I stick my brush in my mouth and brush. I rinse, using my hand to cup water, before I speak again. “Sorry, brushing my teeth before I get in the shower, which I desperately need. I stink. And Haley's waiting for her turn. And I'm making Izzy take one tonight whether she wants to or not. I have no idea when the last time was that she bathed.” I shake my toothbrush. “No serious discussions today; I think Haley and I were both still overwhelmed from last night.” I shut off the water. “But Haley seems, I don't know . . . okay. It makes no sense to me, but after I screamed at her like I was stark raving mad, she seemed more like herself. Like before Caitlin died. It's not like she's sprouted angel wings or anything, but today I saw several glimpses of my quirky, smart-assy . . . perceptive kid.”

“She have any more contact with the boyfriend?”

“Todd?” I drop my toothbrush into my toiletries bag. “I don't think so. Apparently she'd been using the iPad to text him. I feel like an idiot. That never occurred to me. That you could iMes-sage with the iPad. But Izzy had the iPad all day today, except when Haley was looking for a hotel and making the online reservation. I think they're done. I said something to her about him today and she made some comment about hoping certain body parts fell off.”

“Good riddance,” Laney says.

“Exactly.” I unbutton my baggy jeans and step out of them and add my panties to the pile. I'll have to put my SpongeBobs back on, after my shower, but I have a clean pair of jeans to wear tomorrow. I wish I'd packed more clothes. I don't know what I was thinking Sunday night when I packed. I guess I wasn't thinking anything.

“You talk to Ben?”

“Not since last night.” I'd given him a quick recap of the bathroom scene at the drugstore and told him I needed him to fly to Maine. That with this new revelation, we need him. His response? He'd get back to me after he checked with the office, which honestly hadn't fazed me all that much last night. I think I was just too shell-shocked. But as I began to unthaw today, I started getting really angry with him. He didn't call me today and I'm pretty close to livid with him now. “I guess I should call him after my shower.” I exhale. “But I don't think I can pull another all-nighter. I'm not going to get into it with him on the phone tonight. I need some sleep.”

“He needs to man up. He needs to come here and be with his family,” Laney says firmly.

“I agree.” I maneuver my way out of my shirt, taking the phone away from my ear, then bringing it back when I drop the T-shirt in the dirty clothes pile. “Would it be terrible of me to just not call him tonight? To wait and see if he calls me?”

“You should at least let him know you're okay. That you're at the hotel.”

I push my hair back and look at myself in the mirror again. I still don't recognize this skinnier version of myself. “Maybe I'll just text him. Leave the ball in his court.”

“Jules—”

“I know. I know what you're going to say. I can't keep running away from him. Away from the mess of my marriage, but really, Laney, I can only take so much grief. And I don't know how much more I can take.”

“You're going to be okay,” she says, gently. “You're doing the right things. You and the girls are going to be okay.”

“And Ben and me?”

She doesn't answer right away and I feel a heaviness in my chest that scares me. I've never once considered life without Ben. Tears fill my eyes. I can't go there tonight. I just can't.

“I should get into the shower,” I say, not wanting to force her to say what we're both thinking, which is what if Ben won't come to Maine? What if he doesn't care enough about our girls, about me, to come and talk to me? Talk to our girls? Help me figure out what the hell we're supposed to do next for Haley?

“Get your shower,” Laney says. “You'll feel better. You'll sure smell better.” She laughs.

“You're funny.” I look in the mirror and groan. “My roots are so bad, Laney.”

“We'll take care of that when you get here. A bottle of L'Oréal and half an hour in my kitchen and you'll be the beautiful blonde I know and love.”

“It's a date. I'm shooting for Rochester, New York, tomorrow.”

“Yay!” Laney exclaims. “You'll be here Friday night! And we'll have the whole weekend together. Do you want me to go open up the cottage? Or do you and the girls want to stay here with us?”

“I don't know.” Laney lives in a sweet little Victorian house in a town near Sebago Lake, less than an hour from Portland. I like the idea of being able to lie on her bed and talk to her after the kids have gone to bed. Maybe have a glass of wine with her. But she's only got three bedrooms, so it's going to be a little cozy. And it might be awkward for her boys, considering the circumstances of our visit.

“Let's plan for us to stay Friday night with you and we'll go from there. If Ben comes, even if it's just for the weekend, we could go to the cottage,” I say hopefully.

“You'll need some space, in which case you guys should definitely take the cottage.”

I smile, so thankful I have her. “I'll call you tomorrow night.”

“Be safe,” she tells me.

I disconnect and hold the phone in my hand, debating whether or not to hit Ben's number. The bathroom is getting steamy now. I can't see myself as well in the mirror. I hesitate and then go to texts.

I hit send, set the phone on the sink, and step into the shower. I take my time under the hot water, trying to relax and just not think about anything. For the first time in two months, I don't even cry. When I get out of the shower, I hold my towel with one hand and check my phone with the other. Ben's texted me back.

Nothing about him coming.

I dry off, put on my SpongeBobs, and join my girls.

We turn off the light at ten thirty. All three of us are beat. Izzy falls asleep in five minutes, curled up beside me with Mr. Cat in her arms. But I can't sleep, even though I'm exhausted. I lie awake, listening to the sound of the air conditioner blowing; we all like to sleep in a chilly room.

I'm hurt that Ben didn't call. Or at least respond about coming to Maine, in his text. And I'm angry. But I don't know what to do with any of it.

I roll onto my side to face the other bed. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I see Haley, lying in the middle of the bed, her hands above her head. She isn't asleep, either.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, keeping my voice low so I don't wake Izzy.

I see Haley shrug. “I don't know.”

I watch her for a moment: my beautiful, smart, messed-up kid, and my heart aches for her. For her pain that I can't take away. “I was thinking about your dad,” I tell her.

On impulse, I get up and cross the two feet between our beds. I slide under the sheet with her before she can protest. “He really hurt my feelings today.”

She scoots over a little. Not too far, just far enough so we won't
accidentally
touch, I imagine. “He's not coming to Maine,” she says, her voice flat. She sounds disappointed.

“I don't know. I think he
needs
to.” I turn my head to look at her. “Don't you?”

She lowers her arms and I see she's holding the rubber ball. She's been wearing the same long-sleeve black T-shirt since we left; I can't see the bandages on her arm. But I know they're there and I know what's under them.

“Dad's Dad,” Haley says quietly. “You can't expect anything more of him than he's ever been.”

I roll onto my side, sliding my hands under my head. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know.” She continues to stare at the ceiling, moving the fingers of one hand, rolling the ball. “Just that . . . you're not going to change him.
We're
not going to change him. It's not that I think he doesn't love us, but . . .” She's quiet for a second. Thinking. “A person can only give what they have. You know?”

I don't know what she's talking about. Not exactly. But I do get that in her own way, she's trying to make me feel better, while not laying blame on her father.

I roll onto my back again and lie there beside Haley for a couple of minutes, saying nothing. I can feel her slight movement, rolling the ball in her fingers. I hear Izzy's steady breathing. Mr. Cat is purring. It's a soothing sound and I finally start to feel sleepy. “Tell me about the ball,” I say.

“What do you mean?” She sounds defensive. “It's just a stupid ball.”

“A stupid
pink
ball? I remember it, Haley,” I say gently. “I remember Caitlin bouncing it the week she died. At the pizza place. It was Caitlin's ball.”

She doesn't say anything.

“Did Caitlin give you the ball? Is that why you're carrying it around? Because if it's—”

“She didn't give it to me,” she interrupts in a whisper. “I stole it out of her backpack. I did it because she was driving me crazy bouncing it and she really liked it. Then—” Her voice becomes filled with emotion.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the floodgates that threaten.

“She asked me if I'd seen it, but I—” She is silent for a moment. “I didn't get the chance to give it back.”

I try to think of something to say to make her feel better, something like “I'm sure Caitlin didn't mind” or “I think she would have wanted you to have it,” but I don't. I get the feeling that anything I say will seem as if I'm trying to negate her feelings. And if there's one thing I've learned over the last two months, it's that you can't help how you feel. So I'm quiet with her for a while, then I say, “Do you think Izzy is okay?”