Raising Rain (9 page)

They waited all evening, but no call came. Was something wrong, she wondered? She checked the news, but there were no plane crashes reported. She sat down and wrote him a letter, even though she didn't yet have an address where he could receive mail. By the next morning, Bebe knew that, for whatever reason, Scott hadn't been given the opportunity to call. But she knew from experience with her brother that the military did their own thing and didn't need to give explanations. She was only his parent. Scotty now belonged to the U.S. government.

She had to resist the urge to read stories about the war and the editorials that appeared in the newspaper and online. She just wasn't ready to handle that, and it did no good to brood. She remembered how her mother had watched the news reports about Vietnam on television when Bobby left, and how she would shush them all harshly, and wipe her eyes and retire to her bedroom. Bebe had been at school when Bobby left. She didn't even get to tell him good-bye.

R
ain got a call on Tuesday morning that Dr. Lazenby had an opening if she wanted to move up her appointment. She rearranged her work schedule and took extra time at lunch. As she sat in the waiting area of the doctor's office, she wished she had taken time to shave her legs that morning. It was something she had become lax about since Hayden left, and she considered even explaining to the doctor by way of an apology.

She watched an extremely pregnant woman try to get comfortable in a narrow armchair, twisting this way and that. Her partner read a brochure on menopause, glancing up now and then to ask if she was okay. The woman tried pacing, stopping to take breaths, with her hands on her lower back and her feet spread like the base of a trophy. The receptionist called for them, and as they disappeared behind the office door, told Rain it would only be a few more minutes.

Rain picked up a brochure about in vitro fertilization and pregnancy. Cutaway diagrams explained the procedures in more detail than necessary, stripping away the warmth and wonder involved in bringing
life into the world. Rain closed the brochure and supplied her own desired results. She couldn't wait to hold her baby in her arms.

The receptionist appeared and held open the door. The pregnant couple came back, and this time the man was supporting the woman as he hurried her out the door. The receptionist turned to Rain and said that her appointment would have to be postponed. Dr. Lazenby was on her way to the hospital.

Rain wondered who would hurry her to the hospital when her time came.

Rain got a call from William that evening asking her if she could take Jude in for her treatment. The doctor was trying an experimental drug in an attempt to improve her quality of life. He had an unavoidable business trip on the following Thursday, and Rain would need to stay until he could make it back from the airport that afternoon. Rain said she would, and asked if her mom had agreed to it. He responded that, for once, it was out of Jude's control.

Rain arranged to take the day off and drove over to the Bay Area in the wee hours on Thursday morning to avoid traffic on the bridge. Her mother was dressed and waiting, and said it really hadn't been necessary for her to interrupt her day.

Rain drove her to the oncologist's and waited in the seating area while her mother checked in at the desk. People at different stages of illness shuffled through, some sitting with family members and others waiting alone. Some wore scarves and looked extremely tired, and one man had an oxygen tank. Jude sat poised with her chin lifted, keeping her gaze on a magazine, and flipping pages occasionally. Her attention settled on an advertisement for a new diabetes drug, even though diabetes wasn't an issue for her.

The nurse called Jude back for her treatment, and Rain was surprised when it didn't take long. Jude said that it was due to the fact that she'd had a catheter embedded in her chest after her veins collapsed.
Rain suppressed a shiver as they left the office. Jude moved slowly and deliberately, speaking of other things as though her appointment was just one of many errands she had to run that day.

Rain could tell that her mother was worn out, and over her protests, she supported Jude's elbow as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. The bedroom was in her signature disarray, and smelled stale and medicinal.

She offered to make Jude some lunch, and after an initial squeamish look, her mother asked her for Jello from the refrigerator.

Rain headed down to the kitchen, remembering back to the luncheon when Jude had driven herself. She must have been on the point of exhaustion when she returned that day. Rain felt mildly irritated with William for not insisting on driving her.

Rain opened the immaculately clean refrigerator and took out the container of Jello. She scooped the wobbling mass of orange Jello into a bowl and wiped down the sides before returning the container to the refrigerator shelf. She set it on a tray along with a glass of ice water and climbed back up the stairs.

“Since when do you eat Jello, Mom?” she asked.

“It's basically flavored sugar water. At this point, I need all the fluids I can get.” Jude labored to sit up and prop herself against the headboard. Rain arranged the pillows behind her for support and set the tray across her mother's lap.

Rain stood gazing out the window at the busy street below while Jude ate her Jello. A messenger went by on a bike and was almost clipped by a van turning right. The day was gloomy with drifting fog and a chilly 60 degrees. What a difference from the 100 degree heat that simmered Sacramento the day before.

Rain turned at the clatter of Jude's spoon in her empty bowl. She removed the tray and left the water on the nightstand with the TV remote. “Is there anything else you need?”

Jude hesitated. She gave Rain a brief sidelong glance and said, “Well, actually, I need a new patch.” Jude directed Rain to where she kept her medicines. The bathroom counter looked like a pharmacy,
filled with prescription bottles, suppositories, and other supplies. Rain tried to look nonchalant when she came back in with a new patch. She peeled off the spent patch, curled the edges back until they stuck together as Jude directed, and flushed it. Then she applied the new one onto Jude's stomach and washed her hands. Her mother visibly relaxed as the medication began to kick in.

“So, what's going on between you and Hayden?” she asked, leaning back into her pillows.

“Nothing.” Rain picked up the tray. “We grew apart. Normal stuff.”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Jude said, closing her eyes. “I can always pump Bebe for information.”

“Do you want anything else?”

Jude draped her arm across her eyes. “Just close the mini-blinds, if you don't mind. Really, you can go, if you have things to do. I'll be fine.”

Rain moved to the window to shut the blinds. “I'll be here until William gets home.”

“
If
he comes home, you mean. He's probably not in Chicago at all. He's probably down the coast with that Valerie woman from Marketing.”

“You're just babbling.”

“You don't know.”

Rain started to leave, but Jude said without opening her eyes, “You don't need him, you know.”

It took a moment for Rain to realize that she didn't mean William—she meant Hayden. Rain paused at the door and studied her mom. She looked frail and drawn with her arm draped over her eyes and her hair splayed against the pillow. Smaller than Rain remembered. How could her mother possibly know what she needed? Jude didn't even realize that she needed William.

“Call if you need me,” Rain said, pulling the door almost shut.

Once downstairs, she put on some soft classical music and picked up a magazine. She realized that the architectural magazine was chosen for its appearance, because it obviously hadn't been read. The room was tastefully minimalistic and immaculate, but at the same time, inviting. William's influence, of course. He couldn't tolerate messes and clutter.
Even his name was tidy. He was never a slovenly “Will” or “Billy.” With his borderline obsessive-compulsive disorder, it was a wonder he could even tolerate Jude—the biggest mess and clutter of all.

When Jude entered a room, she claimed it with her belongings. Her room always looked as though she were in the midst of packing and could take off at any moment. Perhaps that's the way she wanted it. Noncommitment. Her clutter also clearly stated that she was no domestic goddess, and it handily drove William crazy.

Rain went into the office and sat down at her mom's computer. She checked her e-mail and found a message from her friend Lisa, asking if she wanted a ticket to see John Mayer in concert, but she declined. She couldn't afford it, even though she was tired of spending evenings at home alone. She answered back, suggesting a movie on the weekend.

She almost checked the assisted reproduction site, but realized that her mother could easily check the history and the secret would be out. She wouldn't risk that.

Rain had a devilish idea. She listened for noise from upstairs, and, hearing none, checked the computer's history and found something very interesting. An alumni site for San Angelo State University had multiple log-ins over the last few months. That was her mother's alma mater. Was her mother looking for something—or someone? She navigated to the site, but could go no further without a password.

She closed it out and ruminated as she went in search of food. With the exception of a coffee she'd grabbed when gassing up at Dixon, she hadn't eaten since she left home at four a.m. Rain opened the fridge again and marveled at it. Maybe she could get William to stop by and clean hers. The bottles and containers were lined up and sorted by size, and all the caps were clean. The glass shelves gleamed. She spooned some yogurt into a bowl, wiped the lid, and replaced it in the same spot, label facing out.

She dozed on the sofa until William returned. He said hello, placed a take-out container of sushi on the counter, and took his overnight bag to his room. He came out and gave her a hug, looking her in the eye.
“How are you, Rainy day girl? I brought you sushi.” He lowered his voice and nodded up toward Jude's bedroom. “Did she give you any trouble?”

“No, she was good,” Rain answered, getting out two square plates from the cabinet. “She tried to get me to leave, but I kept my post.”

“Good for you.” He went over to the staircase, tilted his ear up to listen, and returned to the kitchen. “Sounds like she's sleeping. Was she in a lot of pain?”

“She was grumpy, but I changed her patch.” Rain suddenly looked up at him. “That was all right, wasn't it? She's not getting dependent or confused about her medications, is she?”

“No, she's as lucid as ever,” he said, getting out black lacquered chopsticks from the drawer. “Maybe more so, if that's possible. I think the pain might be giving her an added edge.”

He opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and held it up questioningly to Rain, but she shook her head. “I can heat up some sake, if you prefer.”

She scrunched up her face. “No thanks. I'll stick to tea.”

“Suit yourself. Tea's in the cupboard.” He poured the ale into a glass, making sure it didn't foam while she chose a White Pear infuser bag and plugged in the teakettle. He arranged the California rolls and sashimi on a rectangular black serving plate.

“I picked this up from Hanami on the way home,” he said. “It's criminal the way the airlines refuse to feed you more than peanuts when you're crossing three time zones and have to sprint to catch your connecting flight.” He took the plate to the table along with two dipping bowls. “Now, sit down. I got a Tiger Roll just for you. No roe.”

She smiled. “Twist my arm,” she said.

“If you leave now, you'll just get stuck in traffic anyway.”

Rain slid into a chair across the table from William and placed the cloth napkin in her lap. “So what did you do in Chicago?”

“Detroit.” He shrugged. “It was training for union negotiations. Very boring stuff. I changed planes in Chicago.”