Schooled (17 page)

As we approached our table, Sarah stayed back, forcing me to walk to the table alone. There was one lone woman at our table, her back to me. I approached the table, not believing my eyes, hoping I wasn’t imagining things.

“Mom?” I choked, tears welling in my eyes.

“Oh Janelle, I’m so sorry. I’m here. Marcus is a stupid, stupid man.” She held me tightly, rubbing my back. I clung to her, sobbing in to her shoulders, ruining my hair and makeup.

“But how? How are you here? Why?” I couldn’t believe the one person that I needed the most was right in front of me, holding me, protecting me. I never wanted to let her go.

“Jasper and Joz thought you could use your mom.” Oh God, they were right; they knew. Neither one came here either; they weren’t making me share her. “Jasper flew me in for the night; that boy has some serious money. We need his money.” She laughed, directing me to the chair.

I sat down, staring at her. She was beautiful; she looked younger, happier, so full of energy and life. When did that happen? How did that happen? My mom hadn’t really been there for me since I was 20 years old. Now, when I needed her the most, at 29, when my world was crumbling around me, and I was making bad decision after bad decision, here she was. I couldn’t stop crying.

“Janelle, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.” She shook her head, putting her hand on mine, squeezing it lightly. “I know this is tough for you, but you’re a rock honey. You’re gonna get through this.” She looked so sure, not wavering at all.

“Mom, I just, I just don’t know what to do.” I felt my lip quiver and my eyes spilling out again. “I feel like such a fool.” I put my head in my hands; she rubbed my back.

“That’s ridiculous!” She exclaimed. Turning her head, “You must be Sarah,” she said. Sarah approached the table, gave my back a quick pat and sat on the other side of me.

“Yes, Mrs. Garrity, Jasper’s told me so much about you and your husband; it’s wonderful to finally meet you. “ Sarah leaned over me and shook my mom’s hand. Had Jasper really talked about my mom to her? How close were they? I wondered if I could convince her to marry my brother; she’d be perfect for him. All except for the whole lesbian thing. Damn.

“Call me Sue; Jasper exaggerates, but it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” My mother took a sip of her wine, and asked us if we wanted a drink. My mom knew about Sarah, too? How often were my mom and brother communicating? I thought that we only talked to them once a month. Hmmm, someone’s been holding out on me.

“I’m on it; you two catch up.” Sarah got up and said, “Janelle, martini?”

“Not tonight; just a glass of white wine please.” I couldn’t drink like I did last night. If I kept this business up, I’d be in AA in no time. I couldn’t wallow in alcohol for the rest of my life.

“Did you girls have fun last night?” My mom asked. I was not about to answer her truthfully. How could I tell my mom that we got loaded up and then made out in my hotel bed? Hell, in her newfound euphoric state, she’d probably be proud of me. Was it possible that the world wasn’t judging me as harshly as I was judging myself?

“Yes,
Wicked
was amazing.” I raved about the show and Nobu until Sarah returned with our glasses of wine.

“Sarah, I cannot believe you got this girl to try sushi; she never tries anything new.” My mom casually announced.

“I know; I’m gonna work on her trying new things and opening up a little more.” Sarah laughed, held up her glass, and said, “To new beginnings.”

We clinked our glasses and sipped our wine. I couldn’t believe my mother had flown all the way to New York to be with me. I hadn’t felt so loved in, well, ever. The night was truly magnificent. Writing the check, Jasper’s check, to the March of Dimes felt more than philanthropic; it felt therapeutic. I couldn’t sit around feeling sorry for myself when real suffering, human suffering existed in the world.

My mother talked a little bit about the children in the orphanage and the connections she was making with them, the breakthroughs they were having. My parents really were remarkable. Nearing 60 and she seemed younger than I had ever known her. Growing up didn’t have to be synonymous with growing old. I could learn from this mess without making myself old, angry, and bitter, without hating and mistrusting men. If my parents could start over, then I could certainly start over at 29.

“Men aren’t the problem Janelle. Marcus was the problem; he isn’t every man.” She was right; I knew that. “Marcus was never the man for you. You were never yourself with him. He grounded you; you couldn’t fly with him.” Wow, just last night I said that I needed to “defy gravity” and my mom was saying the same thing. She wanted me to fly.

She went on, “You latched on to Marcus when your dad and I left, so you’d have someone, the wrong someone, but someone nonetheless. You basically went straight from that adorable boy from high school to that ass.” She shook her head. “It’s important for women to date, learn what they really want in man, or a woman.” She was looking from Sarah to me. She really must have talked to Jasper about Sarah. Unless my mom had the keenest “gaydar” on the planet.

“Amen,” Sarah concurred. “I read once that the average woman sleeps with seven to ten men in her lifetime. So how many, Janelle?” She asked innocently. I reddened immediately; this was not a topic that I’d ever talked to my mother about.

My mom laughed, “Janelle would like us to believe that it was only Marcus, but we knew she slept with her high school boyfriend.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it affectionately. “They weren’t as sneaky as they thought.” Smiling and shaking her head, appearing entirely amused, she stood up to excuse herself. As she walked away, I’d realize that I’d never felt like an adult around my mom, but tonight I was starting to feel like it. How could a 29-year-old woman still feel like a child around her parents?

“Is she right, only two?” Sarah asked, incredulously.

“Well, I mean, I’ve fooled around with guys, frat boys in college, hooking up and crap, but if we’re talking sex-sex, like penetration, then yeah. Two. Todd in high school and Marcus.” Suddenly, I felt embarrassed, humiliated by my innocence. I couldn’t figure myself out. Sometimes I was proud of my innocence and naiveté; other times, I was embarrassed by my lack of experience and knowledge.

Cracking up, Sarah squealed, “I’m a lesbian, and I’ve slept with more men than you.” She was laughing and pushing against me. She’d slept with her high school boyfriend and a few guys in college before she’d met Vivian and realized that she wanted something completely different.

“Shut up, that’s just because you were searching for something else,” I shoved her back. “Something those boys didn’t have.” I teased.

“No, because I don’t have your crazy hang-ups about sex and what’s right and what’s wrong.” She was dead on. Man, if I ever got her and Char together, they’d gang up on me and kill me with all their “Janelle-rightness.”

“I don’t have--” I tried to argue.

“Really, then why aren’t you fucking the shit out of Briggs and Leo?” Holy shit. How did she know about them? She and Jasper must be BFFs; this was nuts. I always tried to get him to talk to me, open up to me, share with me, never happened. Sarah had been back in town for six months, and she knew everything about all of us. That was just nuts.

“I’m not gonna--” I really didn’t know what to say or how to defend myself.

“Supposedly, the sexual tension and body language when they’re around you is intense.” I couldn’t believe Jasper’d picked up on that and talked about it with Sarah, no less. My world really was out of whack. “Hey, I went to school with both of them. Briggs is a hot piece of ass. Leo was a geek, can’t believe you’d wanna ride that.” She said, scrunching up her nose.

“Leo isn’t like that at all; he’s smart, funny, and extremely good-looking.” I felt compelled to defend him, to make sure she didn’t think poorly of him.

“Running to his rescue, are ya?” Standing up to leave when she saw my mother approach, she whispered, “Get on them; you owe it to yourself.” Walking around the table to hug my mother, she announced, “I’m gonna circulate the room; you two catch up.”

My mom and I decided that we’d cut out early and spend some quality time together. I told Sarah that I’d meet her in the lobby the next morning for a quick breakfast, before flying home. I was not ready to go back home and face reality again. I liked playing pretend in New York City. Maybe I’d just quit my job, get a waitressing job at Nobu to afford my new
Wicked
-crack addiction. I liked the sound of that.

My mom and I walked around Times Square and ended up sitting on a bench in Rockefeller Center, people-watching, one of our favorite pastimes together. Or used to be.

“I just don’t enjoy judging people anymore,” she wasn’t looking at me, but looking at all the people walking by, as if she were finally seeing them as humans, not punch lines. “There are so many more important things in life. Never realized it before,” she said, shaking her head. “I wish I could go back in time and re-raise you kids; I’ve failed you in so many ways.” My mom was pensive and remorseful, looking forlorn. I hated seeing her with regret, beating herself up.

“Mom, you’re kidding, right? You guys were great parents, are great parents.” I hated that she thought otherwise. Granted, she did leave me nine years ago. However, I was beginning to come to terms with it.

“You kids had a nice, privileged life. But, I should’ve been introducing you to more, other cultures, other lifestyles, teaching you acceptance, showing you the world.” She brushed the pieces of my hair that had fallen from my side pony-tail. “If I’d shown you more, you wouldn’t have married the first idiot who proposed.” She shook her head and grabbed my hand.

“Janelle, look at me,” she lifted my chin. “You deserve someone perfect; someone who finishes your puzzle and without him, you’re just another misplaced game, lost and worthless.” I’d never seen her so serious, never heard her speak with such wisdom before. “Joz has that with Rick; I have it with your dad. You never had that with Marcus.” She was staring at me, waiting.

“I know; I think I always knew.” I started crying. “It just hurts; I was so wrong.”

“It hurts, hurts badly, but it won’t kill you.” She took a deep breath, searching for courage, searching for the words. After a long pause and a courageous sigh, she said, “Your dad cheated on me when we were first married.” She dropped the bomb on me. What? No way. That couldn’t be true. I stared at her in disbelief. I’d never heard this before.

“Just let me get this out. It hurt, hurt worse than having a baby, having three babies, because emotional hurt is more excruciatingly painful than physical pain.” She stopped, got up and stood facing me, putting her hands on my shoulders. “I thought my world had ended. But your dad, he was, Hell, he is my world, the love of my life. What he did broke my heart, but it didn’t break us.” She explained.

I didn’t remember a time when my mom was so forthcoming, so filled with raw honesty. “But mom, didn’t you feel like a failure forgiving a man who cheated on you?” My father did not seem like an adulterer. His world revolved around my mom. Maybe it hadn’t always. They had a story, a story that maybe I didn’t know all the parts to.

She smiled and shook her head, “Forgiving him didn’t make me weak. My pain and anger were making me weak.” She smiled, her eyes becoming distant. “But I knew I had to forgive him. I loved him,” she said, her face lighting up.

She looked like a teenager, talking about her new boyfriend. Then, her face fell again, shaking her head, “But with you and Marcus, it’s different,” she said softly. “You don’t have to, don’t need to.” She put both of her hands on my face, forcing me to look at her again, “The main difference is, I knew I’d grow old with your dad, you’ve never felt that for Marcus. Your dad was worthy of forgiveness, Marcus isn’t.” She seemed so sure of herself, her words.

She was right; I knew that. I wasn’t toying with the idea of forgiving him; that’s absurd. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Marcus was never the missing piece to the puzzle of my life. Truthfully, we hardly fit together at all. I had clung to him when my parents left, and let’s face it, he really wasn’t all that supportive then either. Funny how my mom called it missing a puzzle piece, I loved doing puzzles. Used to beg Marcus to join me, help me finish one. He never did. Literally and metaphorically, he never finished my puzzles.

My mother and I took a cab back to our hotel, sat in the lobby on a comfy couch, and talked into the wee hours of the night. I’d never felt closer to her, and yet, she lived thousands of miles away now. It was strange how much maturation and experience changed a person, creating growth and strength. My mom was stronger and more enlightened than I’d ever known her to be. I always wanted to be like her (up until she left), because all little girls basically want to be like their mom. When she packed up and left; I dropped that notion, but now? Now, I knew exactly why I wanted to be like her. She was smart, forgiving (when deserving), tolerant, giving, courageous, helpful, and there for me when I needed her the most. Although I hated that she would fly back to my father in New Guinea the next day, I wasn’t bitter or angry for her decision or desire to do so.

When I crawled into my bed, I couldn’t believe how peaceful I felt. Sometimes, a mother’s support and wisdom was all anyone ever needed. As I was getting comfortable, I realized that I hadn’t gotten my phone out of my purse all day or night, hadn’t looked at it once. That had to be some sort of record for me. I laid in bed trying to decide if I really needed to get up, get it out, check it, and plug it in to the charger. The bed was so cozy and relaxing, getting up seemed inane. But, I hadn’t checked Facebook all day or my calls or messages. I rolled over and decided to just forget it, something to look forward to in the morning. I laid there, thinking about last night, thinking about my mom, but mainly thinking about how I needed to get up and get my phone. Damn. I was technology’s bitch.

Char and Jocelyn had both sent me messages. Jocelyn left a worried message, saying that since she hadn’t heard from me she was forced to call the airline and check on my flight. Then, she left another message more pissed off, because Sarah had sent a text to Jasper saying that they landed safely and things were going well. Did Jocelyn know Sarah too? What was going on? Was I really that wrapped up in my life with Marcus that my family had been existing without me? I needed to make a point to spend more time with them, being more present in their lives. My family was too important, too integral to avoid creating memories with them.