Danny's Mom (19 page)

“I've been waiting to hear from you,” she said. “I was so concerned about you driving this morning.”

I embraced the thought that someone other than my father worried about my safety. I no longer wondered why Kate cared for me so; I was just glad she did. “I'm fine, Kate,” I answered. “A little wet, but fine.” I wriggled out of my coat. “No. Actually, that's a lie. I'm not fine at all.”

“What's the matter? Another rough night?”

“Yes, but I can't talk about it now. It's just that I asked Joe to see Dr. Goldstein with me, and he gave me a hard time.”

“I'm so sorry. And I know you said you can't talk now. But listen. I've got to go out later, even in this awful weather. I have a dental appointment in that medical building on the boulevard, just around the corner from the high school. I should be finished by eleven-thirty or so. Why don't I pick you up then? We can have lunch at the Athena. I promise I won't take you away from work for too long.”

“Thanks. I really do want to see you.”

“It's a date then. I'll pick you up at eleven-forty-five, if that's a good time for you.”

“That's perfect. The end of fifth period. I shouldn't have any problem getting out then.”

“Good. I'll pull up by the double doors near the bus platform. I know there's an overhang there, so you won't get wet even if this abominable rain doesn't stop.”

It was still raining third period when Callie came by. “Hey, Beth. What an awful drive this morning! I was late for homeroom. Peter had Lucy Hershon cover for me, and she said he was really pissed. So I'm sneaking around like a mouse today, trying to stay out of his path.” A smile played at her lips. “Hey, I just put another animal in our zoo.”

“I was late too. And I worried when I didn't see your car.” As I said that, I realized the rock that had settled in my stomach when I knew Callie hadn't gotten to school yet had disappeared by the time I walked to my office and phoned Kate.

“So lunch fifth period today. No excuses. Even if the rain stops, it'll still be too wet for lunch on Kate's patio.”

“Cal, I'm sorry.”

“No. Don't do this again. I know I said I understand your relationship with her. But come on. We've been friends for a long time. I can't believe you'd choose Kate over me on a day like this, when there's no way you'll be outside. I don't get it. Didn't we have a great time yesterday?”

“I don't know what to say, Cal. I love you. You and Tom and the girls are my family. Other than my father, you're my only family now. But I think you were right, what you said about Kate. She understands what I'm going through in a way that you can't. And thank God for that, because I'd never, ever want you to go through this.”

“Yeah, well, remember something else I said: The serpent tempted Eve.”

“What are you saying?”

“Seems clear to me. Kate's a snake. Plain and simple. A lonely old lady who's using you. And I'm not saying she doesn't truly like you, but that's not why she's latched on. Maybe she doesn't want to be alone next year when Zach leaves. Maybe she sees you as a daughter. Who knows? But in any event, she's using you.”

“I don't see it that way.”

“That's the problem. So remember Eve. The serpent tempted her, and nothing was ever the same.” Callie opened the door.

“This isn't Sunday school, Cal. I didn't ask for a Bible lesson.”

Callie left. I just sat for a while. Using me? Kate certainly wasn't using me.

The rain stopped before Kate picked me up. By fifth period, I wished I had earplugs to wear in the halls, where teens who thought they'd be trapped inside all day whooped it up as they ran out to Burger King, Taco Bell, and Pizza Hut. It wasn't only the change in weather that raised the noise level, though. The countdown to the junior prom also created a buzz that grew louder as the big day approached.

I headed to the faculty room to make peace with Callie. Though I didn't recognize the truth in her words, I did see her jealousy. And I wanted to apologize to Denise and Joanne for deserting them too. But as I walked down the hall, I weighed the risk of my visit. If I ran into Peter and he saw where I was going, he'd expect me back in my office by the next period. Calling on Callie might mean having to give up my date with Kate. So I changed my mind and ducked into the ladies’ room to comb my hair.

At eleven-forty I grabbed my coat and umbrella, in case the weather changed again, and told Sue I was off to lunch.

I spotted Kate's blue Honda as she rounded the corner of the parking lot. When she waved to me, I heard Tina call from the door by the gym: “Hey, Mrs. M.” I turned and saw Jen slinking behind her, holding a carton of Burger King fries. “Jen, look who's going out. Where you heading, Mrs. M.?”

Kate pulled up as the girls approached. I smiled at her but didn't get in the car.

“Wait,” Tina said. She turned to Jen. “Don't you remember who this lady is?” Tina knocked on Kate's window. “I know you. You're Zach's grandmother. We met at the Athena the night of the art show. You were there with Mrs. Maller. So, is this like your second date or something?”

“I don't know what you're talking about, young lady,” Kate answered before I could say anything. “I'm simply having lunch with Mrs. Maller. She's a friend of mine. And I see
you're
with the same friend who was with you after the art show too.” Then Kate called to me, “Come on, Mrs. Maller. I know you're on a tight schedule, and I'm hungry.”

Tina followed me as I walked around the car to the passenger side. She reached for the handle. “Allow me, Mrs. M.”

“No, thank you, Tina.” I pushed her hand and opened the door. “Have fun,” Tina said. “And don't you two do anything naughty.”

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he next day, I followed Kate's directions to Dr. Goldstein's. Though this was the first time I'd been in Glenwood, the main road looked familiar. Ubiquitous strip malls blended the town into a suburban landscape of CVS, Pay-Less, Yogurt and Such, and the Gap. Kate had told me to turn left at the second light after the King Kullen supermarket, and I was sure I had, as counting traffic lights—red lights, in particular—was an annoying practice I couldn't seem to shake now. And worse, I would decide before driving anywhere that if I got stuck at a certain number of lights, there would be some negative consequence—like running into Peter at school, or having an argument with Joe that night. Yet even though I was sure I had counted two lights after the supermarket, I didn't see Robin Lane, which Kate had said would jut in on the right. Instead, I passed Hummingbird Drive and Finch Court, where I circled around to backtrack. On the main street again, I forced myself to pay even closer attention to the traffic signals rather than to the image that popped up in my mind: Tina at Kate's car door.
Have fun. And don't you two do anything naughty.

This time, when I counted two lights after King Kullen and then turned, I saw Robin Lane. I pulled up in front of Dr. Goldstein's house and remembered to take the path on the left, as Kate had instructed, to the office entrance around back. In the waiting room, I studied two large paintings—their bold, acrylic colors jarring in the simple beige space. The canvases, like giant Rorschach blots in pink and purple and green, were signed R. Goldstein. Dr. Goldstein's wife, I figured, then thought about her name. How many female
R
names could I list? Rayanne, Ruth, Rachel, Rose, Rebecca, Ruby, Roberta, Roselle, Rosalie. I challenged myself by trying for ten. If I could come up with ten
R
names, I decided, then I'd know Dr. Goldstein would lift the fog that wrapped around me all the time now—except when I was with Kate. Everything looked clearer then, as if I'd put on glasses.

I repeated the names to myself, counting on my fingers as I stood in front of the second canvas: Rayanne, Ruth, Rachel, Rose, Rebecca, Ruby, Roberta, Roselle, Rosalie. Nine. Just nine. Could I add Rosie and still count Rose, I wondered, as I pictured Kate and me at the Athena the day before. After Kate had convinced me to forget about Tina, and after I told her what Joe had said about seeing Dr. Goldstein, Kate had talked about Zach's father. About how close she and her son, David, had been. About how after David died, Dr. Goldstein helped her become whole again.

“How do you ever get over it, Kate?” I had asked.

“Dr. Goldstein will help you, dear. I'm sure he will. What you're going through now is like trying to get your arms around an elephant. You think it's impossible. But you reach with whatever strength you've got. And then, one day, you wake up and your pillow isn't wet. That's when you know you're ready to heal. Your arms start to fit around your grief. You can pull it in. And though you'll still hold it forever, I'm afraid, it won't always push you down.”

Looking at the paintings in Dr. Goldstein's waiting room, scrolling
R
names and searching for ten, I prayed Kate was right. Just one more possible name for his wife, and then maybe Dr. Goldstein would be able to help me shrink this elephant.

I didn't hear Dr. Goldstein come in and jumped at his hello. His appearance surprised me: he was short and lean—not the burly, Tom-like guy I expected. If he'd have walked into the diner in the days when Joe and I played “guess the profession,” I would have focused on his white shirt, khaki slacks, and wire-rim glasses. A professor, I would have said. Literature. The classics, perhaps.

“I hope you didn't have any trouble finding me,” Dr. Goldstein said. “Robin Lane comes up so fast some people pass right by.”

Robin, I thought. The tenth name. I shook Dr. Goldstein's hand, knowing now he would certainly help. In his office, he pointed to a brown leather couch with a tan, fabric cushion at one end. “Wherever you'd like. Feel free to sit if you want, though some people prefer to lie down. That pillow over there's pretty comfortable, Mrs. Maller. Or may I call you Beth?”

“Sure,” I said as I sat in the center of the couch. “Beth is fine.”

“Good. That's my wife's middle name, by the way,” he said from his armchair, angled to face me.

“Could I ask you a question, Dr. Goldstein?”

“Of course.” He leaned back a bit, in reaching distance of a spiral pad and pen on the small wooden table next to his chair.

“This is really none of my business, and you'll probably think it's a weird question—”

“There's no such thing as a weird question here. Ask anything, anything at all that comes up for you. I don't want you to censor your thoughts or your questions. Our time together will be much more valuable if you just say whatever's on your mind. So, what is it you want to ask?”

“Your wife's first name.”

“It's Rhonda. Now, why did you want to know that?”

I told Dr. Goldstein about my name game. “Well, now I understand why you seemed so deep in thought,” he said. “When I saw you studying Rhonda's work, I didn't know if you liked it or if you were trying to figure it out. But I never would have guessed you were focused on her name. I suppose we never know what another person's thinking unless we ask.”

“I've been doing that a lot, Dr. Goldstein—listing things and inventing consequences, I mean.” I would have been embarrassed to tell anyone else about these thoughts. I hadn't even told Kate about this crazy consequence game I couldn't stop playing. That I couldn't drive without counting: not only traffic lights, but stop signs, school buses, and particular types of cars. That I linked the number of objects to unrelated effects. I would decide that if I passed two buses before a stop sign, then I wouldn't dream about the accident. Or, if I saw four Camrys on the highway, then Joe would come home for dinner—though I wasn't always sure I wanted him to.

Dr. Goldstein crossed his legs. “And that's what you were doing with my wife's name—linking it to an outcome you want?”

I nodded. “I know that's crazy. But like I told you, I believed if I came up with ten
R
names, you'd be able to help me.”

“And you've been doing this a lot, you say. At home and at work?”

“All the time now. Like at home, I'll tell myself that if I turn off the microwave before it beeps, then Joe and I won't argue. Or, on the way to school, I'll count the red lights. And I'll think that if I stop at fewer than six, I won't run into the assistant principal all day.”

“Beth, did you do this before your son died?”

“No. It just started. I don't remember exactly when, but recently, some time in the last couple of weeks. And now I can't stop.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Scared. Like I'm going crazy, and I don't want anyone to find out. It doesn't make sense, Dr. Goldstein. I mean, even when I count the red lights, I know it doesn't matter. Traffic lights can't possibly affect what goes on at school. But even though it's crazy, sometimes I speed up when I shouldn't because I really believe I'll have a better day if I don't get stuck at a light.”

“Where did you grow up?”

This change of subject startled me, but I answered without pause. “In Queens. Why?”

“Were there sidewalks in front of your house or apartment building?”

“Yes. And I lived in a house. But what does that have to do with my crazy thoughts?” I wanted a quick fix for this strange behavior. Then we could shift to the real problem: life without Danny.

“I'm sorry if it seems like I'm changing the subject. Sometimes my questions might sound unrelated to whatever we're talking about. But it's all part of the process. And if you trust me enough to answer, you'll always see the connection by the end of our session. Okay?” Dr. Goldstein kept on without my even nodding. “So, you said you grew up in a house in Queens. Did you ever play that game where you tried to avoid the lines in the sidewalk?”

“You mean
Step on a crack, break your mother's back. Step on a line, break your mother's spine?
Sure. Dori Berg, the girl who lived next door, said that all the time. But after my mother died, when we were in second grade, Dori stopped saying it. Though we still avoided those sidewalk lines.”

“Maybe what you're doing now isn't so different from what you did then.”

“But when I was a kid, I really did believe that something bad would happen to my mother if I stepped on a crack.”