Bobby's Diner (22 page)

The crowd answered back “When!”

 
“When I’m elected,” She returned the positive
statement, “I’ll make you proud. Thank you all so very much.”
 
She stepped back and bowed then Helen grabbed
her hand
 
and held it high over her head.
Roberta waved and blew kisses at everyone.

It was a glorious day.

CHAPTER 33

Well, as you might guess Roberta
was elected Mayor of Sunnydale that fall. We celebrated with red, white, and
blue streamers and hats and those silly noisemakers that roll out into a
colorful air-filled paper when you blow. Mr. Hanker’s high school marching band
played up and down the streets of
 
Sunnydale, we drank champagne and danced in the street. The mood was
hopeful and joyous. Everywhere Roberta went,
 
she locked my arm in hers to join her. We’d scoop up Vanessa and the
three of us paraded around like Winkin’ Blinkin’ and Nod. The only thing
missing was a rub-a-dub-tub to float around in (and the water in which to
float, of course).

Vanessa turned to me at one point.
She said, “I wish Helen were here to see this.”

Helen left late that summer—a
good time to leave the hot Arizona desert. She called a few times after she’d reached
Seattle. She found a house boat on Lake Washington and was enjoying the cool
sea air blow through her. She even went as far as to get a pet, a boat cat. She
called her SeaBreeze.

Helen was writing the way she’d
always hoped and she was becoming active with the local theatre too, writing
plays and fiction. Her calls dwindled to once every couple of weeks, then once
a month, finally they altogether stopped shortly after Roberta’s election in
November. Helen did call to congratulate her on her new career.

Roberta’s first act as mayor was
to set aside the land that surrounds Sunnydale in order to purchase it with the
money from the trust fund setup by Helen. She called the purchase the Helen
Pyle Land Purchase in honor of Helen.

***

After the election came the blur
of Thanksgiving and Christmas and we were looking toward a bright new
year.
 
Zach
 
Pinzer and Tweeter were indicted in the murder
of José and Harold and sent away to serve life sentences.

The diner had a renewed surge of
old-time customers of the times when Bobby and Vanessa were married. Vanessa
would introduce me to them as one of her very best friends. And, Sunnydale
finally started to feel like home. That is, until she told me about her cancer.
Then, Sunnydale started to feel like family.

Vanessa
 
had
 
gone
 
back
 
to
 
Flagstaff
 
this
 
time accompanied by me. As they rolled her
along in a wheelchair they had her in one of those insulting pieces of cloth
they hand to patients and call them “robes.” She looked pale. It was then I
realized how sick she was.

“I haven’t told Roberta yet,
Georgie. I don’t want to ruin it for her.”

“You can’t hide this from your
own daughter, Van. You have to tell her.”

“Well, when I decide to, will you
be there with me. I don’t think I could handle telling her alone, Georgie. I’d
crumble.”

“I’d be honored.” She grabbed my
hand in hers and kissed my knuckles.

“Hey! I have to pee.” I ran out
because I didn’t want her to
 
see
 
me cry. She needed strong people around her
through all this, not some sniveling weepy thing. When I came back into her
room the nurses were there marking up her breasts with a
 
black Sharpy™. The radiation treatment only
lasted a few minutes but the laser and its effect subsequently burnt her skin,
raw.

When we got back to Sunnydale I
helped her get comfortable and sat with her for a bit before heading home. She
told me to come by her house tomorrow lunchtime and she’d have Roberta meet us
there so she could tell her. I agreed.

Roberta was beside herself with
worry. But, the three of us held tight and promised no matter what we’d stick
together and make sure this thing, this cancer didn’t win out. She’d beat it
once she could beat it again.

People tend to say things like
that, you know, when they’re faced with danger, more importantly when they’re
faced with fear and when around others. When we’re alone the panic and worry
overcome a person. It’s only after we face the awful truth together, after the hours
of consolation, do we really experience the terror laid before us. That night,
after going our separate ways, I had a deep sense we were all crying in unison
about that same fear we’d only moments before stood strongly against
collectively.

***

Vanessa made it through another
year and holiday season.
 
By then, it was
Thanksgiving Day. For this holiday, we all
 
celebrated at Roberta’s house. It was around three in the afternoon. I
wore a cool flowing dress so I could fill up on all Roberta’s fine cooking.
Vanessa looked
 
like
 
a hippy in a moo-moo with her head wrapped
elegantly in a scarf to hide her patchy hair. Rick unexpectedly showed up at
her doorstep with roses and chocolates. Roberta told him to go away after she
took the flowers and cookies and shut the door in his dumbfounded face. That’s
how she described the scene
 
anyway. You
could hear him from inside the house when he hollered,

“I’ll be back tomorrow then.”

“What are you doing here?” It
wasn’t the kindliest of welcomes I’d ever heard. Me and Vanessa chuckled in the
other room as we eavesdropped at the dining room table.

“I brought you a Thanksgiving
gift. I know how much you love Thanksgiving, Rob.” His voice sounded sweet and
familiar.

Their divorce had been finalized
the year before.

“Well, my family and I are having
dinner. It wasn’t right for you to just drop in.” She was killing us. Van and I
were sniggering like teenagers in the background. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But,
I’ve been thinking about things, about us, you.”

“Rick, really, I don’t have time
today. I have guests. Come back some other time.” She’d opened the door, literally
and figuratively, for another visit from him.

Roberta was in shock by his
surprise appearance, but recovered quickly after trying out one of the
truffles.

She arranged the roses on our
Thanksgiving table. “Well, that’s just lovely, isn’t it?” She looked at us and
we couldn’t help but bust out from the entire episode.

“Shut up!” Roberta’s smile veiled
her true emotions. She was giddy.

Then, we all sat down, just the
three of us, together, for the last time.

Vanessa didn’t even make it to
the end of the year. We all spent Christmas bedside at the hospital watching
instruments pulse and ding and monitoring heart rate and
 
pressure,
 
watching
 
Van
 
go
 
in
 
and
 
out
 
of consciousness, watching
her wince in pain, see her thin skin receive yet another injection - another
catheter - another line of fluids, morphine, blood.

She said she couldn’t do it
anymore, she said she was sorry but she wanted to die. So, she refused
treatment. Vanessa wanted
 
me
 
and Roberta to take her home where she could
die,
 
happy. She wanted no more
interruptions from nurses,
 
orderlies,
and doctors— strangers. She only wanted her family around. That’s what she told
the doctor. She built up enough strength and we moved her into a wheelchair,
got her into the car, drove her home, and got her comfortable.

She apologized to me. To me! For
her treatment after she and Bobby divorced, up till not so long ago. I told
her, “Don’t Do This.” I actually said that to her. You see from my point of
view I should’ve been apologizing to her. But, then she said something that I
couldn’t refute. Vanessa had asked to talk with me alone and excused Roberta
from the bedroom.

“Georgie, if you hadn’t come into
town those many, many years ago and… stolen my husband away from me…” She tried
a weak Groucho impression and chuckled
 
as she joked.
 
“None of this
would’ve happened.” She made a low but sweeping gesture with her arm and
continued to speak even though she was growing short of breath, “the you and
me, then you and Roberta—you saved her life, Georgie—I’m not sure it
would’ve
 
played out the same way if it
were any different, you see?
 
I’ll never
forget it. You saved the most important person in my life. And, I love you for
it. You need to understand this more
 
than anything. Yes, I had my anger issues about Bobby but
 
that all peeled away in a flash the night
Roberta got shot. You saved my baby, Georgie. Don’t you ever forget how
important you are to me, okay? Don’t you ever doubt how much I love you, the
here and now of it, okay?”

Her whispering voice sounded
ministerial and profound. Words were lost for me.

“I want you to know something
I’ve been keeping from you. You’ll be angry. You will be. But, after I tell you
I
 
hope you do the right thing by
everyone concerned.”

Vanessa piqued my curiosity. I
couldn’t imagine what she was going to tell me at this point. I wiped my nose
with my hanky and looked at her wondering what next she would tell.

“Look, Bob was a loner more than
you’ll ever know now. He needed moments to himself.” She paused to take a few
deep breaths and then whispered the rest. “We don’t have much time. Helen and
Bob were close. Closer than you’ll understand. They were like soul mates. I
never understood either, until later.” She breathed in and collected her
strength. “Open that drawer there and hand me the letter with the initials
H.M.W. on it.” I must have been sitting there blankly when she said, “Do it,
Georgie, I don’t have this kind of time.” The letter was right on top of
 
a
 
stack of notepads. “Open it.” She grabbed my hand when I started to.
“Not now, after. Now you go get my girl. I need to talk to her.”

“No, Van, not yet. Please.” My
sorrow felt like a mountain in my chest. I put my head on her hand, the one
resting on the bed that I held tight.

“Come on now. Go. I need to talk
to her. Now.” My head
 
shook yes but my
body lingered then weakly moved, stood and I walked out to send in Roberta.

Seven minutes passed from the
time I left to the time Roberta emerged.

My body was tucked, my head
buried in my knees.

The letter was by my chair on the
floor. But, when I looked
 
up I realized
she’d left the door open. Her movement was lethargic, unsure. Her face turned
white.

Roberta said nothing. I didn’t
have to ask. She leaned against the wall of Vanessa’s bedroom and covered her
face.

CHAPTER 34

You know how you replay in your
mind something you don’t want to forget? That’s what I do. But, I parcel it out
in slivers. I’m sure I’ve left out so much of this story. Some of the painful
memories come when I least expect them and when they do, it seems I’ve been
given some cosmic permission to talk about it, think about it allowing me in
steps to recall at first the most tranquil memories. Someday all the memories
will reveal themselves. And, when that day comes will it allow me to
forget?
 
Oh, I certainly hope not. But,
the mind is funny.

My mind settles every now and
again on Helen, on the letter. In it the writer refers to a past profession of
love.

Dear
Helen,

The
time we’ve spent together is precious to me. I appreciate your words, you write
like

an
angel. Please don’t hate me, but I had to burn your note to me. When you
expressed your feelings the other night I reacted the way any man would who was
approached by such a remarkable woman as you, Helen.

But,
we cannot continue.

I
dearly love my wife. She’s the most important thing in the world to me. And,
even though we didn’t take things as far as we could have, I wanted to. But,
not for the reasons you might hope—for purely physical reasons, Helen. And, you
know as well as me, that’s not fair to you and it’s most definitely not fair to
Georgie.

To
hear you express your love, well, your words fell over me like diamonds falling
from a golden sky. Thank you. Thank you for feeling the way you feel about me.
But, I can’t return the favor. I don’t know what else to say.

Your
true friend, Bob.