Finding Noel (23 page)

Joette called this morning to set up a meeting, presumably to talk about Macy. There was something in her voice that makes me think that all is not well in Oz.

MARK SMART'S DIARY

The next morning I was teaching my last guitar lesson when my landlord knocked on the door.

“Phone's for you,” he said, sounding less annoyed than usual. I think knowing that I would soon be gone made him nicer.

“Who is it?”

“A woman. She says it's important.”

“Thanks.”

I left my student practicing a chord and went up to my landlord's apartment. I picked up the phone. “Hello.”

“Mark, this is Joette.”

“Hey, what's up?”

“I was wondering if we could get together and talk.”

“Sure, but it will have to be soon. I'm leaving Saturday.”

“I know, Macy told me. Could we get together tomorrow, during my lunch break? I'll treat you to lunch.”

“Denny's, right?”

“On State and Twenty-First.”

“What time?”

“My lunch break's not until two.”

“I'll be there. How's Macy?”

She paused. “We'll talk about that.”

How foolish to believe we have any idea of what is really going on around us or that permanency is an earthly option.

MARK SMART'S DIARY

Joette was waiting for me in a corner booth when I arrived. She was wearing her waitress uniform and was drinking cola from a straw. She waved me over and I sat down across from her. “Thanks for coming. It's good to see you.”

“You too.”

“How have you been?”

“I've been better.”

“I know.” She handed me a menu. “Are you hungry?”

“I was born hungry.”

She grinned. “Then let's order first.” I opened the menu and looked through it. When I set it down, she asked, “Ready?”

“I'll have the Reuben.”

“Good choice,” she said, sounding very much the waitress she was. “With the fries or salad?”

“Fries.”

“And what do you want to drink?”

“I'll have a Coke.”

“Okay.” She walked back to the kitchen. I looked around the restaurant; this was Joette's world. She returned just a few
minutes later carrying my drink. She set it down in front of me and slid into her seat. Her expression turned grave.

“I need to ask you something very important.”

“Okay.”

“How do you feel about Macy?”

Under the circumstances I thought this was a strange question. “You know I asked her to marry me.”

“I know,” she said, “but how do you feel now?”

“Hurt. Angry.” I took a deep breath. “And I wake up every morning with a heartache. She's all I think about.”

“If you could have her back, would you take her?”

“Of course. But that's really not my decision.”

“Macy is hurting too. She misses you. Maybe even more than she knows. But she's afraid, and she has every right to be. If you had lived through what she has, you'd be afraid too.”

I slowly rotated my cup in my hands. “Yeah, so what do I do?”

“Please don't give up on her. She's going to need you.”

There was something about the way Joette said this that made me anxious. “What do you mean…?”

She lifted her napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “Sorry.” She exhaled deeply. “Do you believe that people come into our lives for a reason?”

“I don't know. My mother always said that. Maybe she was right. Look how Macy came into mine. She saved my life.”

“I know what you mean. When I first met Macy, I thought I was there to save her. Five years later I realized that she came to save me.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked at me thoughtfully. “Macy came into my life about twelve weeks after I lost my little girl. Angela was only four years old. My husband was out of town at the time, as he usually was. He was a sales rep for a medical oxygen supply company, and he was always on the road. I was used to doing things alone with Angela. She had seen someone roasting hot dogs on TV and she wanted to do it too, so I took her up into the canyons for a weenie roast. I was trying to start the fire, and Angela was sitting on a blanket not ten feet from me. I was never much of an outdoorsman and I had trouble getting the fire going, but I finally did. When I turned around, Angela was gone. I ran around, screaming for her, but I couldn't find her anywhere. It was spring and the creek was nearly over-flowing its banks. I was afraid she might have walked too close to the water and fallen in.” Joette lifted her napkin to her eyes again. “The next day park rangers found her little body a mile down the creek.”

“I'm so sorry.”

She breathed in deeply. “I can't tell you what a nightmare that time was. I had to call my husband and tell him that she was missing, and the next morning I had to call him and tell him she was dead. He completely blamed me. The one person whose support I needed more than any other turned on me. I had a breakdown and spent five weeks in the university psychiatric ward. When they released me, my psychologist told me to go back to work—to get my life going again. I did. I was heavily tranquilized. I felt like the Tin Man, heartless and hollow, just going through the motions. I worked twelve
hours a day, then went home and cried until I slept. Then I'd get up the next morning and do the same thing.

“I'd see my counselor every week, but deep inside I knew I wasn't going to make it. It was like I could hear this train in the distance coming to take me away. Every day it got a little bit closer. It was pretty close to my stop when one day this sweet girl shows up to bus tables at work. She was so young; I thought she was a child, but she acted much older than she looked. And she worked hard. I didn't know her story, but there was a lot of talk about her among the other waitresses. I noticed that she only had a few outfits. I'm sure she sensed that something was wrong with me, but she never said anything. She would just smile, and she always had a cheerful word. She made sure my tables were watered, and got cleared first. She was a waitress's dream.

“One night, the day before Thanksgiving, near the end of my shift, this guy came in with a little girl. She looked just like
my
little girl. I tried not to look at her. While they were ordering, he called her Angela. I took their order then went back to the kitchen and collapsed. I was sitting there on the floor crying. No one knew what to do. Except Macy. She got on the floor with me and put her arms around me, and even though she didn't know why I was crying, she held me. She took the order out to the man and his daughter and took care of my tables until I was able to pull myself together.

“After my shift we went out to my car and just talked.

“I couldn't believe the insight this young woman had. Or maybe it was just that she was willing to listen. When we finished talking, it was probably three in the morning. I knew
that she usually walked home, so I asked if I could give her a ride. Even though we were in my car, she refused. She didn't want to tell me where she lived. It took a while but I finally got her to admit that she was living at the homeless shelter about a mile down the street. I invited her to come home with me.”

The love Joette felt for Macy was evident in her eyes. “That was five years ago. I guess we just got so busy living together that the train just passed me by.” She smiled at me. “So you and I have something in common. I thought I was saving Macy when the opposite was true. You thought Macy was sent here to save you. I think it's also the other way around.”

“I don't understand.”

“I don't think it's a coincidence that you showed up when you did.” Then she looked into my eyes. “I'm dying, Mark.”

“What?”

“Macy told you that I had cancer.”

I nodded. “She said you had it in your eye.”

“Ocular melanoma. And she also told you that it's in remission.”

“Right.”

“It was. But it's come back. And it's stage four.”

“What does that mean?”

“In my case it means the cancer has metastasized to my liver.”

I just looked at her in disbelief. “How bad is that?”

“Pretty much as bad as it gets. I'm out of options—no surgery, no chemo. They just sent me home and told me to get my affairs in order.”

I was stunned. “How long?”

“A few months. Maybe less.”

For a moment I was speechless. My mouth went dry. “But Macy thinks you're fine.”

“Macy just thinks I'm sick and should see a doctor. She doesn't know I've seen too many of them.”

“Why haven't you told her?”

“Because I was waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you.”

I looked at her quizzically. “For me?”

“I prayed that God would send someone to take my place. I think He sent you.”

I didn't speak for a moment. Another waitress walked up carrying our orders. “There's your Cobb, Jo. And for your cute friend, a Reuben. Can I get you anything else?”