Rules of Lying (Jane Dough Series) (21 page)

T
he day started off poorly when I tripped getting out of bed and stubbed my toe. Then I spilled the only cup of coffee in the house, which meant I was getting none. Now Katherine had shown up without calling. If there was one thing I hated, it was for people to show up without calling first. Except Bryan Rossi. I didn’t hate him when he did it. That one time. It would never happen again because he was never coming back, but whether it happened once or a thousand times, I’d forgive him.

Katherine, on the other hand … well, I would’ve given her a break too since she seemed so disconnected and harried, except she was criticizing me. And did I mention I hadn’t had any coffee?

We were sitting at the table and I’d even served Katherine a cup of tea. She was the only one of my sisters who drank tea, so my lack of coffee wasn’t bothering anyone but me.

“Why are you always haranguing me about every single thing I do?” I asked. “So I don’t live my life the way you do; that’s my choice. It’s my life, after all.”

Katherine chuffed out a sigh. “We’re not critical of your choices, Jane. We’re not even thinking about you. You shouldn’t take everything personally. You are so narcissistic that you think everybody else’s world revolves around you. Well, it doesn’t!”

That pissed me off. First of all, I didn’t like to be called narcissistic. Next to vanity, it’s the worst sin, according to Mom, and she should know since she’s the vain narcissist in the family. Well, she and Marci. The rest of us might be just as vain, but narcissistic we were not. At least I hoped not. If I had to add that to my ever-lengthening list of faults, I might have to kill myself.

Secondly, they
were
critical of my choices; how could Katherine sit there and say otherwise? Weren’t they always saying I should be doing things differently … or not at all?

“You’ve been so wrapped up in your own little world,” Katherine said, “that you don’t have a clue what the rest of us go through with Mom. Like today. I come by to talk to you about Mom and you start interrogating me about Mr. Carlson. I already told you everything he said, and I don’t have anything to add. If I were you, I’d forget about Carlson.”

Katherine’s advice usually included the phrase, “If I were you,” which seemed a ridiculous qualifier to me, no matter who said it. If she were
me,
she’d do exactly what I was doing because she’d be
me.

Her advice about Carlson aside, she was right. I
was
wrapped up in my own little world and had been ever since they’d all lied to me. I’d sort of decided that if they wanted to leave me out of the important things, like the life-changing decision about Granny, then they could just leave me out of everything. Why should I go around helping with the dirty work when I wasn’t getting any respect? It was all fine and good for Katherine to say I shouldn’t take things personally. Nobody was up in Katherine’s face.

But I was trying to get over my anger, mostly because I was afraid if I didn’t, I would go to Hell. The last time I’d attended church, the pastor had talked about forgiveness and how those who didn’t forgive wouldn’t go to Heaven. It would be just my luck that God would send me to Hell for not forgiving all the liars while the liars were kicking up their heels in Heaven.

Katherine ran her fingers through her short, dark hair. “Dad did everything for Mom, and since he’s been gone that has fallen to us. Oh, sure, Mom is always saying, ‘You don’t need to do that. I am perfectly capable of doing it myself,’ but believe me, she doesn’t mean it. For instance, if we don’t fill up her car with gas, she starts calling around to us, one after the other, in that breathless oh-what-am-I-going-to-do voice about how she needs to go here or there, but first she needs to get gas. That will go on for days until one of us offers to get the gas for her.”

“Well, what’s the problem? Doesn’t she know how to pump gas?” I was still a little confused on the whole thing, and yeah, I was feeling guilty, considering I’d never given any of this a thought. I knew Dad had done a lot for Mom. He’d always been a giver, and she’d always been a taker. But he’d been gone for three years now.

“The problem is she’s afraid.
Afraid,
Jane. Not just of pumping gas, but of
everything.
She’s afraid of her medication, she’s afraid of her shoes. Doorknobs, footballs. You name it.”

“Afraid of her shoes?” Medication, I could understand. The doorknob thing probably had to do with germs. And as for footballs, if one came flying at me, I’d be afraid of it too. Of course, I couldn’t imagine that a football had ever come flying at Mom, so maybe that was a joke. I knew she’d always been timid and that her timidity caused her stress. But afraid of her shoes? What did that mean?

“Afraid she’ll trip in her shoes. I’m telling you, she’s afraid of everything. And of course she’s never been able to confront anyone about
anything,
so if an item needs to go back to a store, one of us has to take it. If she thinks she was overcharged, one of us has to call about it. If the doctor prescribes something she doesn’t think she needs, one of us has to look into it. It’s enough to drive us bonkers. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s still driving herself around, but you know how she loves to shop. I guess I’m mad because you aren’t helping out with Mom. There, I’ve said it.”

I was impressed. It wasn’t like Katherine to come right out and say what she thought, which only proved she was distracted. Not that I liked what she thought because it made me sound like a jerk.

“First of all, I don’t live near her like you do. And second, I have too been helping. I’m always the one who takes her to Walmart, aren’t I? You haven’t heard me complain about that, have you, even though she sticks me with the bill when I need my money to save my house?”

Katherine furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about? When did you take her to Walmart?”

“When haven’t I? I get stuck with it every time. Marci always has something else that comes up, something that has to do with Erin.”

“So you’ve been taking Marci’s turn for her. That doesn’t help out anyone but Marci.”

Ah, now I saw the problem. Pretty sneaky of Marci to come to me behind everyone’s back.

“Well, I didn’t know you all had divvied it up and that I was always taking Marci’s turn. It’s unfair of you to be angry at me when no one has even mentioned this before. That’s the problem with our family,” I said, becoming more and more self-righteous as the seconds passed. “No one ever comes right out and says anything. You think someone is misbehaving or not carrying her weight, you all just talk about her behind her back!”

“I’m giving you a chance to help out
now.
Mom needs to go to the bank tomorrow, and I have a meeting at work that I can’t reschedule. Hilary is still out of town on business, Nicole and Steve drove up to the cabin for the week, and Marci … well, Marci will have
something
urgent if I ask her to help.”

I had plenty of urgent things too, but I didn’t want to be lumped together with Marci. Marci was selfish and self-centered. That wasn’t me. I hoped.

I told Katherine I’d be glad to help out, so at least that was settled. It probably wouldn’t change anything as far as my relationships with my sisters went, but at least it would ease my guilt.

*****

By the time I started over to Mom’s the next day, I had it all figured out. Mom didn’t want to go to the bank alone because she was afraid of looking foolish. She was always so worried about what everyone would think, although she was constantly telling us otherwise. I was sure that was the reason she didn’t want to pump gas, and I was just as sure it was the reason she didn’t want to go to the bank by herself.

The solution was quite simple really, and I couldn’t understand why Katherine hadn’t thought of it. Once Mom knew what to do, she wouldn’t need anyone to do it for her. As I drove over to her apartment, I congratulated myself for thinking past the immediate problem, as my sisters never seemed to do. Not only would I take care of this task, but I would teach Mom how to do it, and no one would have to help her with it again.

Mom talked nonstop all the way to the car. “You really don’t need to help me with this,” she said. “I’m perfectly capable of going to the bank by myself.”

For a split second I thought about calling her on that by saying, “Great! I’ll just leave you to it, then,” but I was afraid her fear of actually having to go to the bank herself might give her a heart attack. So I just kept insisting that I was happy to do it.

“It looks like a storm’s coming,” Mom said with a snicker as I buckled my belt. I pretended I didn’t hear. When I was fourteen, Mom used the excuse of an approaching storm as a reason not to let me do anything I wanted to do, and I’d always gotten mad, which had been her true intention. Now, more than fifteen years later, she didn’t remember any of the particulars surrounding those past situations, just that every time she mentioned a storm, I’d gotten mad. So she doggedly made the remark whenever the opportunity presented itself, determined to cause me whatever angst she could.

It worked. Not because I cared about approaching storms—I actually love thunderstorms as long as I’m safe inside. It just irked me that she wanted to make me mad.

As soon as I put the car in reverse to back out of the parking space, the fun began.

“Ooh!” said Mom.

She grabbed the dash in preparation for the whiplash she was about to get from my crazy driving. I was actually a cautious driver, but Mom didn’t share my opinion.

“What?” I asked, putting my foot on the brake.

“Nothing. I thought a car was coming straight at us.”

SUVs were parked on both sides of us, blocking our view. “You can’t even see any cars yet.”

“That’s what I mean. We can’t see, so there’s a good chance a car is coming straight at us. Whewie, whewie, whewie!”

“I’m pulling out as slowly as I can, Mom. Any approaching drivers will see that I’m backing out and stop. Either I do it this way or you get out and tell me when the coast is clear.”

She muttered something that sounded like “over my dead body.” I took my foot off the brake and eased us out. No one was killed.

As we approached the first light, Mom twisted to her right and fixated on the scene outside her window with such fascination that one might have thought Elvis Presley had appeared and was swaggering down the sidewalk. I knew Mom behaved this way because she couldn’t bear to watch what might happen at the intersection. Since Elvis wasn’t really there, she proceeded to take great interest in every sign within reading distance. Reading the signs aloud is Mom’s way of taking her mind off the worry that she might be killed in a fatal collision.

“Well, would you look at that,” she said in a tone just high enough to be called squeaky. “Ace Hardware. I wonder what that is.” I didn’t respond as I pulled through the intersection. She knew what Ace Hardware was.

“One way? What do you suppose that means?” was her next remark. “Pedestrian crossing. Whewie, whewie, whewie!”

I knew to keep my mouth shut. Getting into a conversation about the signs would only cause an escalation of nerves. Mine, most likely.

As we approached the bank, I asked her, “So, do you go inside for your transactions or do you use the automatic teller?” No matter what answer she gave, I was planning to segue into my
look what I’m gonna do for you
speech.

“I could get hit over the head using that ATM machine,” she said, shrinking back in her seat until she looked like a little old woman half her size. “Crooks stand around just waiting to rob people who use those.”

I rather doubted that crooks were standing around just waiting, since there were a zillion cameras recording their every move, but I decided not to say so in case Mom was afraid of cameras.

“I don’t want to go inside either. Crooks stand around just waiting for women to get out of their cars by themselves. Just drive through. That’s the way Katherine does it.”

I was sure Katherine did, but I doubted she ever explained to Mom what she was doing as she went along. That was all it would take. A little bit of explaining.

“I’m going to show you how to do this,” I said. “It’s really easy. There’s no reason you can’t do it yourself, once you know how.”

She gave me a doubtful look, but I didn’t let that deter me. I had psyched myself into feeling pretty good about helping Mom. I could see how Katherine could get hooked on this
helping
thing. The difference was that I wasn’t getting into the situation of helping her every week or even every month. I was going to help her this one time so that she could do it on her own and no one would ever have to help her again.

I powered down my window, reached over, and took the tube from the machine. “If you’re withdrawing money, you just put your check or withdrawal slip in here with your license,” I explained. “If you’re depositing, you put your money and deposit slip in here. They don’t need your license for deposits.”

I was stalling for time because I didn’t know how to open the tube. The one at my bank had a latch in the middle. This tube was completely smooth.

“Hmmm. I haven’t seen a tube like this before,” I finally said when I couldn’t figure it out.

“Whewie, whewie, whewie!” said Mom.

She was already nervous. I didn’t want to add to her anxiety by fumbling around like an idiot, so I pushed the
Call
button.

“See, there are two buttons here,” I told Mom.
“Call
and
Send.
You can always call them if you have a question about anything.” I was thinking my problem was fortuitous. Now Mom could see the whole shebang from start to finish, problems and all.

A woman’s pleasant voice said, “Good morning, how can I help you?”

I smiled at Mom as if to say, “See, they are all so helpful.” I asked the woman how to open the tube. I heard a nervous giggle come from Mom as the woman explained that I should twist the colored end of the tube to open it.

“No problem,” I said, making a show of twisting the tube for Mom. I put Mom’s check and her license into the tube, put the tube in the machine, and pushed
Send
while explaining to Mom what I was doing. A couple of minutes later the tube returned. I took the money out, counted it and handed the money, the bank transaction slip, and Mom’s license to her.