Just Like Other Daughters (12 page)

“If and when you think it’s appropriate.”

I don’t want to think about Thomas touching Chloe intimately. I can’t. “I have strong feelings about sex between unmarried couples,” I say. And that’s true. Sort of. If I hadn’t had sex with Randall while he was still married to Elaine, I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant by a married man, then I wouldn’t have had the abortion. I’d say that’s a pretty good argument against sex outside of marriage.

“Then tell Chloe that,” he says. “But really, ultimately, sex is a personal decision. You and I have the right to decide how we’ll share our bodies . . . and so does Chloe.”

Suddenly I feel exhausted. Depleted. I
really
can’t think about this anymore. Not today. “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” I say, getting to my feet.

“I know it’s overwhelming, but give yourself some time. Give Chloe some time. Treat her as you would any young girl in her first relationship. There’s no reason there can’t be boundaries. I’m not saying there shouldn’t be. I’m just saying it’s time that you consider the idea that Chloe is growing up . . . to be the beautiful, amazing woman you always wanted her to be.”

I nod because I’m not sure I have any words left in me today. Between the conversation with Randall, and the conversation with my co-worker’s sister, who works in an adult living facility for mentally handicapped adults (she proceeded to tell me that the residents did better when they had a
special someone
), and now Dr. Tamara, I’m just talked out. I’m reasoned out. And I’m certainly emotionally wrung out.

“If you’d like to schedule some extra sessions, to get you and Chloe over this bump in the road,” Dr. Tamara says, rising to his feet to walk me to the door, “just let Jeanie know. And Alicia . . .” He rests his hand on my shoulder.

I look at his skinny wrist.

“
Relax
,” he says.

R
elax. Relax
. That’s what I keep telling myself. I try to relax. Friday night, Chloe and I make cookies from scratch: chocolate chip. Very relaxing. We talk about her upcoming birthday. We talk a little bit about the word
intimacy
. The talk goes better than I expect, although there’s a lot of giggling on her part. I don’t bring up any of the physical aspects of a relationship between a man and a woman, beyond kissing, but we do talk about the word
appropriate
and what it means. I explain to her that it’s not
appropriate
for her and Thomas to kiss in Minnie’s bathroom. I’m not sure that she understands what I’m trying to tell her, but at least she agrees to not do it anymore.

And I
relax
a little. Maybe Chloe’s relationship with Thomas is going to be a good thing. Maybe I really can relax, as Dr. Tamara suggested.

I’m reading on the couch in my pajamas Saturday night when my cell phone rings, startling me. It’s nine thirty-five. Jin. Abby was supposed to be coming for their mysterious talk, then Abby had to postpone, at the last minute. I’d assumed Jin and I would have our standing date, but then she said she had a
thing,
so she’d go to that. I assumed it was an art
thing
. She’s always attending some art thing: a show, a cocktail party, a meet-and-greet the artist.

“Hey,” I say into the phone.

“Ally?”

She sounds like she’s crying. I sit up and all the relaxation evaporates from my body. Her art
things
didn’t usually involve crying. “You okay?”

I hear a sniffle. She’s definitely crying. “I think she’s getting married.”

I almost ask
who?
Luckily, I catch myself. I get up off the couch and begin to pace in front of the fireplace. “Wait. Abby told you she’s getting married? I thought you weren’t seeing her tonight.” I grip my phone. “Does Huan know?”

“Abby was so nice when she called. She said she had been so looking forward to seeing me.” Jin was talking fast . . . and beginning to cry again. “She said she was sorry she had to postpone our date . . . not a date. You know what I mean.”

“Jin, where are you?”

She takes a shuddering breath. “Abby’s.”

I can feel the frown lines on my forehead tighten. “She’s with you?”

“No. I’m in my car sitting in front of Abby’s house. She . . . she’s inside. With . . . with
her
.”

“With the ex?” I ask.

“Elise,” Jin says bitterly. “Huan never liked her. She was snarky with him behind Abby’s back, but then all sweet and nice in front of her. Oh Ally, what am I going to do? She can’t marry her.” Now she’s sobbing. “She can’t marry that snarky woman.”

I glance at the staircase. I can see a pale light coming from above and hear the faint sound of Ellen DeGeneres’s voice in
Finding Nemo
. I did a bad thing today. I lied to my daughter and told her
Finding Nemo
was a Disney movie. Which isn’t a total lie because Disney owns Pixar, right? I saw the DVD in Walmart and I was sick to death of the same old Disney movies.

“I still love Abby,” Jin blubbers. “I didn’t think I did. I don’t want to, but I do. I love her. I can’t live without her, Ally.”

“Jin. You haven’t gone to the door or anything, have you?” I ask, headed up the stairs.

She takes a shuddering breath. “I should go in. I should confront the bitch.”

“No. No, you should sit right there in the car. You don’t know why she’s there. It could have nothing to do with them getting married. It could be something for work.”

“It’s not work. I’m going to the door. I’m going in.”

“You can’t go in there. Not like this.”

“I have to talk to her,” Jin says, bordering on hysteria. “I have to talk some sense into her. We have a son. We have a life.”

I hurry up the stairs. I’m already in my pajamas so I’ll have to change back into jeans. “Listen to me—”

“Ally—”

“Jin,” I say sharply. “Listen to me. Don’t get out of the car. Just sit there. Just wait for me. I’m coming.” I reach the top of the staircase.

“You’re coming?” she says, sounding nothing like herself. Sounding lost. I’ve never heard Jin like this. She’s always been so . . .
sensible
about her relationships. Even after they ended.

I cover the phone with my hand and stick my head through the doorway of Chloe’s bedroom. She’s lying on her bed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt: tiger cub on a branch with the words
Hang Tough
. “Chloe! Want to go for a ride?”

She looks at me. “I’m watching
Nemo
.” She points at my iPad screen. The father clownfish, Marlin, is talking to a big turtle.

I smile slyly at my daughter. “Let’s go for a ride and get ice cream!”

“Ice cream!” Chloe scoots off the bed and grabs her canvas library bag from her bedpost.

I head down the hall toward my bedroom and raise the phone. “Jin, sit right there. Don’t move. We’re on our way.”

I have to stop for the ice cream before we get to Abby’s home in Queenstown, just east of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. It’s not easy to find a place selling ice cream at 10 p.m. in February on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. We find a gas station. I get a cup of coffee, Chloe gets a jumbo Nutty Buddy. I call Jin twice on our way. She’s staying put.
Good girl
.

I know where Abby’s house is because Jin made me ride over to take some things there right after they split up. Over the years, I’ve been here with her a couple of times to drop Huan off or pick him up. It’s been a while, but I find the house without any problem.

Jin’s still sitting in her Prius. Directly across the street from Abby’s quaint white bungalow. I park in front of her and cut my lights. Chloe’s fallen asleep in the backseat, cuddled in the blanket she brought along. I smile at the smear of chocolate ice cream dried on her cheek. I get out and lock my car. I get into Jin’s Prius on the passenger’s side. She’s just sitting there, hands in her lap, staring straight ahead.

“Hey,” I say gently.

“She’s gone. She left.”

It’s chilly inside Jin’s car. I’m glad I’m still wearing my coat. “Abby or Elise?”

“Elise,” she says softly. “She left.”

“Which means they’re probably not getting married.”

She looks at me. “I want to go in. Should I go in? Should I just ask her why she cancelled on me so she could see Elise?”

I shake my head. “Not tonight. Not like this. Tonight, you should come home with me. We’ll have a glass of wine. You can stay over.”

“My car.”

I shrug. “We’ll move it to the outlet parking lot and come back for it tomorrow.”

“You don’t think I should go to the door . . . or maybe call?”

“And say what?” I reach out and squeeze her hand. It’s cold. “That you’re stalking her?”

“I’m not stalking her.”

I’m quiet for a minute. “You kind of are.”

“What would I do without you?” Jin closes her eyes. “Thanks for coming for me and keeping me from making a fool of myself.”

“Anytime.”

 

Abby called Jin the next day. Turns out Abby was making the final break with her lawyer ex-girlfriend because she wanted to revisit her relationship with Jin. Abby and Jin began talking to each other regularly on the phone.

The days on my iCal go by so quickly that sometimes I lose track. Chloe’s birthday comes and goes; I get her a personal DVD player instead of an iPad. I start leaving Chloe with the LoGs on Saturday mornings at St. Mark’s. Thomas comes to our house every Wednesday to watch a Disney movie and have dinner with us. Spring arrives and the LoGs’ ventures change from pizza parlors and arcades to the zoo and parks. My semester classes end, including the one I’ve been teaching for Sue Chou. I agree to teach only one class in the classroom for each of the summer sessions, and two online classes. It will be a light summer schedule for me, giving me more time to focus on Chloe. Which she doesn’t seem to be all that thrilled about.

It’s June when the families from St. Mark’s LoGs are invited to a picnic at a local park and I find myself sitting in a parking space next to a Dumpster. I drove here alone because Chloe wanted to ride in the church van . . . with Thomas. My window is down; I can hear children’s laughter coming from a swing set nearby. I feel the heat of the June sun on my face.

Margaret will be here. And Thomas’s father, Danny. I’m dreading this picnic. You would think I would enjoy spending time with families who go through the same trials and tribulations I do, dealing with a mentally handicapped child. But I don’t. They don’t make me feel better. They make me feel worse and I don’t know why.

I think I’m dreading having to talk with Margaret and Danny because I know the subject of Chloe going over to their house is going to come up. So far, I’ve been able to handle Thomas and Chloe, putting the Eldens off, always having an excuse up my sleeve as to why Chloe can’t go to
his
house this Wednesday. My busy teaching schedule has been a great crutch, but the semester is over and now it’s summer and my schedule is less time-consuming. I offered to let Chloe cut back on her hours at Miss Minnie’s because I could be home with her more, but she refused. Another fit at Minnie’s. She loves Miss Minnie’s even more than before because now Thomas is there. They’re both going full-time, five days a week, at their request. And both have been bugging me to let Chloe go to Thomas’s for dinner and a movie.

Jin says it’s time for me to let Chloe go to Thomas’s. It’s been five months and the romance is still going strong. As far as I can tell, the kissing hasn’t progressed to anything more, though Chloe and Thomas always seem to be touching each other. Jin says my annoyance with the touching is a reflection of my own need to be touched. She doesn’t come right out and say I’m jealous of my daughter and her boyfriend, but I know that’s what she’s thinking.

I signed up for the online dating. I’ve e-mailed back and forth with a couple of guys. Two weeks ago, I met
John
for coffee. He was okay, but after twenty minutes, the conversation became forced. I just couldn’t get past the idea that in his profile he said he was five-foot-eleven, when in reality, he was closer to five-five. I didn’t care that he was shorter than I was. I just cared that he had lied. Why would a guy lie about how tall he was? And if he’d lie about something so inconsequential, what else would he lie about? I didn’t see John again.

Tonight I’m meeting
Theodore
for a drink at a local pub. He seems like a nice guy. He owns a landscaping business in the next town north of Port Chapel. But I know it won’t work out. What do I have in common with a landscaper? I don’t think of myself as an elitist snob like Randall, but I’m probably more of one than I care to admit. Me and a landscaper, a carpenter, a gym teacher? I just don’t see it working out. I want to cancel my date, but Jin says I can’t. She says I have to
put myself out there
if I’m going to find someone special. I’m not sure I should be taking dating advice from her, though. She’s been sneaking around behind her son’s back, talking to her ex, her son’s other mommy.

“Alicia! So good to see you!”

Margaret and her husband have pulled into the parking space beside me. I get out of my car. “Margaret.” I push my sunglasses up on the bridge of my nose and smile.

Margaret climbs out of the passenger side of her blue minivan. She’s wearing a long, flowered skirt that looks like all the other flowered skirts she wears. Her mostly gray hair is in the usual bun, and despite the eighty-degree weather, she’s wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt with clouds and a Bible quote on it. It reminds me of Chloe’s kitten shirts. I know I’m not particularly fashionable, but I feel like a runway model in my khaki capris, tank top, and leather flip-flops.

Margaret is wearing black shoes that have Velcro straps across the top—just like Thomas’s. I get why
he
wears them. He has problems with manual dexterity. His fine motor skills are poor. It’s interesting that Chloe’s are pretty good. As much as I hate to admit it, Thomas and Chloe make a good team. Chloe seems more physically capable of doing things, while Thomas can read a little. He’s able to read simple directions, like on the slice-and-bake cookie package. Between the two of them, and a thousand questions to me from Chloe, they can bake cookies together in my kitchen now.

I eye Margaret’s shoes. One of the Velcro tabs has curled up and won’t stick, probably due to the red fuzz poking out of the Velcro fibers. I’ve only met Thomas’s father a couple of times, and then just to wave a hello, but I know he wears the same shoes. They must get a discount.

I realize how mean my thoughts are. Maybe not mean, but certainly unnecessarily critical. The Eldens are nice people. I think of them as
crazy Christians
, but that’s an unfair evaluation. They’re different than I am. They’re not well-educated, well-spoken, or well-read, but they’re nice people. And they’re nice to my Chloe, I remind myself again. Does any of the other stuff really matter?