Eighty and Out (18 page)

I left the nail salon in time to get home and rest for a while before Lisa’s wedding. My manicure turned out great. The only ugly part was my crooked hands. They weren’t as gnarled as Aunt Violet’s had been, but they didn’t look normal either. Definitely not the way a forty-seven-year-old woman’s hands should look. Even though I took the newest drugs that stopped joint deterioration, they couldn’t undo the damage that had already been done.

I frowned as I styled my hair, having myself a mini pity party.

“You look nice,” Jim said as he gave me a peck on the cheek.

He had never stopped complimenting me. Even after I gained weight from the steroids, and even after my hands became slightly deformed. He always found ways to try and make me feel beautiful. When I said my fingers were hideous, he bought me a ring, saying they just needed proper decoration. When I couldn’t fit into the nightgown Bernice had given me for our wedding, he bought a newer, prettier one in the right size.

When I was too tired to keep up with everyone else, he’d say he was bushed too, and suggest staying in for the evening. I felt guilty sometimes for holding him back. He was stuck with a wife who had the energy level of an elderly woman. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you,” he’d say, and as I watched him now, standing in the mirror adjusting his tie, I thanked God for giving me such an amazing spouse. Disease or no disease, I was one lucky woman.

I hoped the man Lisa was marrying was just as wonderful.

“You have the card?” Jim asked on the ride over.

I held it up. My body might be a mess, but my mind was as sharp as ever.

Lisa and Tim both had good jobs, but they had a lot of bills. With student loans, a mortgage, and two car payments, there wasn’t much left over to go on the honeymoon Lisa really wanted, so Jim and I arranged the trip as a surprise.

“You think they’re going to have a good time?” Jim asked, smiling warmly.

“She’s always wanted to go to Tuscany.”

Jim took my hand in his. “We’re next,” he said. “We should have done it sooner.”

After years of being so focused on the business, Jim was finally beginning to realize life wasn’t all about getting ahead and making money. We resolved together to start making time to really live.

Now we just had to wait until I felt better. I had been in a lot of pain lately but was going to see a new doctor, the best rheumatologist in the Midwest. If I was ever going to see Europe, he would have to come up with a pain management plan that allowed me to walk cobblestone streets all day.

Jim and I took a seat in the front pew next to Jeannie, my mom and dad. When Lisa walked down the aisle with Chuck, she radiated happiness, and he beamed with pride. I stole a quick glance at Jeannie, who was already sniffling, and we smiled, sharing an unspoken communication only she and I knew.

As Lisa and Tim exchanged vows, I hung on their every word. I felt like I was watching my own daughter get married, and in a lot of ways, she was like my own daughter thanks to my sister’s generosity in sharing her with me.

Jeannie and I sat next to each other after dinner. “I’m stuffed,” she said.

“Me too. I could fall asleep.”

Just then an Elvis song came on. Not just any Elvis song, but
It’s Now or Never
. Jim got up, eager to dance with me, and although my feet were hurting, I laced my arms around his neck and slowly swayed from side to side, all while smiling as if I wasn’t in any kind of pain.

I had gotten good at that out of necessity. It wasn’t like I could complain about my symptoms all the time. If I did, no one would want to be around me. So I wore a happy face no matter how I felt. There was always two halves of me: the half who was truly enjoying myself and the half who suffered through. Of course, there were those rare days when I felt great, when the stars aligned and the moon was auspicious, but they were few and far between. When one of them did show up, I was so thrilled I wanted to do a million things, to enjoy every moment before it slipped away.

Jeannie took a sip of her cocktail and studied me as I sat back down.

“You put on a good show,” she said.

“But I can never fool you.” I slipped off my heels. “I should have worn flats.”

“Why don’t you dance barefoot?” she suggested. “No one would mind.”

There wasn’t a chance I would dance barefoot at a wedding, no matter how tempting the idea. “I think I’ll just rest for a while,” I said and spent the next few songs watching Lisa and Tim dance with Jeannie and Chuck.

Jim had been chatting with my parents by the bar but came and sat down next to me.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“I’m holding,” I teased. “But seriously, this has been the best wedding. Once Lisa is free, let’s pull her aside and give her the card.”

“Okay,” he said and scanned the room for her.

Wedding gifts were stacked on a table surrounding a special basket that held cards. We had kept our card in my purse because we wanted to give it to her in private. When I saw Jim on his way back with Lisa, I fished it out of my handbag and stood, fighting the grimace that the simple action demanded from me.

“This is for you,” I told her. “We wanted to watch you open it.”

Lisa took the card and held it in her hands for a beat before carefully pulling apart the seam. Inside were airline tickets, which she pulled out and squinted to read in the dim light. Lisa looked from Jim to me, wide-eyed and jaw agape. “This is incredible. I’m speechless. Thank you guys. Thank you so much.”

She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug. I closed my eyes, picturing her and her new hubby in the Italian countryside. The brief daydream morphed into a picture of Jim and me instead. I choked back a tear. “You’re welcome, sweetie. Have a good time.”

She thanked Jim again and put the card back in the envelope. “Wait until I tell Tim. He’s going to flip!”

Lisa pranced away to find him. Jim smiled, then turned to me. “How about we head home? I’m kind of tired.”

“You’re always so tired,” I said, a half-smile coming to my lips. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Just lie in bed with me while we look at travel brochures.”

*****

I called Bernice on Christmas Eve. “I can’t believe the boys are grown. Where has the time gone?”

“I don’t know. Jeff is twenty, and Eric is eighteen. I blink decades now,” she joked.

I smiled, but it wasn’t funny. I had missed her through the years and wished I could have spent more time with her and the kids.

“How’s Juan doing?” I asked. Bernice had mentioned he had remarried the last time we talked.

“He’s good. They just came back from a week in Europe. Alejandro and I watched the kids while they were gone, although they’re older and they’re girls, so they didn’t need much watching.”

I thought of Jeannie and me when we were young and smirked. We got into our fair share of trouble.

“Jim and I are planning a trip to Tuscany. You know, the one we always planned to take. We should take a girl’s trip afterward. You, me and Jeannie. What do you think?”

“Count me in,” she said. “I could break away for a week.”

“You serious?”

“Definitely. We should have done it ages ago.”

“You’re right. Why don’t you pick some places, and I’ll talk to Jeannie. Is next summer good?”

“Next summer is perfect. Now that the boys are working with Juan and Alejandro, I don’t have to be as involved with the business on a day-to-day basis.”

After I hung up, I couldn’t wait to talk to Jeannie. It was too late to call, but we would see each other the next day at Mom and Dad’s.

When we had finished eating and opening gifts, I told Jeannie the plan.

“Sounds great. I’ll just have to see if I can afford it,” she said.

“Don’t worry about the price. This one’s on me,” I said.

Jeannie had been okay with me spoiling Lisa but would never let me pay her way. I had learned to choose my battles wisely though, and decided if she couldn’t afford the vacation, I’d put up a fight this time. There was no way I would let anything get in the way of this trip.

Jeannie didn’t have a passport, and since we weren’t sure where we were headed, decided to get that taken care of first. I was thinking we should go someplace tropical, and spent the next few days mulling over Cancun and wanted Jeannie’s opinion. I called her but kept getting the answering machine. She didn’t return my calls.

Frustrated, I stopped by, unannounced. “Where have you been?” I asked.

“I’ve been around. I just haven’t been feeling well.”

“What’s the matter?” I had been lecturing her about taking supplements. I found a few that had helped me and thought she should take them too.

She looked down.

“What’s wrong?” I pressed.

Jeannie lifted her head, tears streaming down her face. “I’m dying, Lou. I have cancer.”

Over the next few months, our family went into a tailspin. Mom and Dad were trying to figure out how Jeannie could have gotten lung cancer when she had never smoked a cigarette in her life, and Chuck, a heavy smoker, blamed himself, assuming she had gotten ill because of him. Lisa was in a state of denial, believing the doctors would make her better, and I, after crying non-stop for several days, had re-emerged more motivated than ever to try and solve the problem.

I parked in the hospital lot and took a deep breath. Then I put on my happy face, something I had mastered long ago, before heading to Jeannie’s room. She was sleeping when I arrived, so I stood by her side and studied her. She looked thinner than the day before and had lost a little more hair. Instead of improving, she seemed to be going downhill fast.

The reality of the situation hit home, and all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe. I slipped out the door and found refuge in the hallway bathroom, where I broke down and cried in a closed stall. A memory of Jeannie and me playing in the park surfaced, and I remembered our silly pact.

“Are you okay in there?” A woman asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I sniffled and wiped my nose with a wad of toilet paper. “I’m all right.”

I opened the door and came face to face with Jeannie’s doctor. When she saw who it was, her face fell.

“Hey, Lou. This is a tough time, I know.” She reached for a proper tissue and offered it to me.

“Thanks.” I blew my nose. There was a heavy silence, then I asked, “Isn’t there anything more that can be done? I mean, they’re always coming out with new medications, right?”

Jeannie’s doctor sighed. “I’m afraid all we can do is make her comfortable at this point.”

We had already had this discussion, where she explained to me that Jeannie’s cancer was too advanced. She had even been kind to me when I had lost my patience with her. Now she was giving it to me straight again.

When she left, I splashed my face with cold water, then touched up my make up so it wouldn’t look like I had been crying. I took a few more deep breaths and tried to relax before going back to Jeannie’s room.

Jeannie was awake when I returned. “Hey sis,” she said in a soft voice. “Why so blue?”

I tried to smile but couldn’t. “You know why,” I said, holding her gaze.

She locked eyes with me, hers turning glassy. “You can’t solve this one, Lou.”

“I know,” I said, choking back tears. “But this isn’t how it was supposed to be.”

Jeannie reached for my hand. “I was supposed to help you go at eighty. I remember. But it looks like plans have changed.”

I sobbed uncontrollably. “But I can’t do it without you.”

“Then don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Jeannie smiled at me. “I mean live, Lou. Live as long as you can…for me.”

When we got the call in the middle of the night saying Jeannie had passed, I collapsed. It seemed like she had just told me yesterday she was ill, and now she was gone.

Bernice flew into town as soon as she heard what happened and offered to help Jim with the funeral arrangements. Ordinarily I would have said no, but considering that my niece and her father were hysterical, my parents were in their late seventies and had been needing help themselves lately, and I was emotionally exhausted and suffering from a rheumatic flare, I willingly let her get involved.

I sat on the sofa, staring into space. I couldn’t believe Jeannie was gone.

“That’s all she does,” I heard Jim say to Bernice from the other room. “I’m really worried.”

“Me, too,” she said.

I had taken medication to help me relax, and as I listened to them make phone calls and discuss where to have the luncheon, their voices sounded far away. I woke up the next day in the same spot, still wearing my clothes but covered by a blanket.

Bernice poked her head in. “You hungry?” she asked. “There’s half an omelet I can heat up.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten. The medication made me foggy and the days were a blur.

“I’ll heat it up,” I said as I rose.

Every decrepit bone in my body creaked on the way to the kitchen, and as I walked there I wondered if Bernice could hear the sounds, too.

“Thanks so much for coming here and helping out,” I told her again as I turned the burner on.

“No problem. I just wish it wasn’t for this reason.”

She didn’t have to say the rest. We had been anticipating taking an amazing trip together, not planning my kid sister’s funeral. I flipped the omelet and heated the other side, slid it onto a plate and flopped in a chair.

Bernice sat down next to me. “Jim and I took care of everything. He said you two will swing by your parents and pick them up tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?”

“No. I’m going to be driving with my parents. They said they wanted to be there for you.”

They hardly knew Jeannie, but had always been like family to me.

“I appreciate that,” I said.

Bernice headed to her parent’s house for the rest of the day. While I was alone, I picked up a pen and pad of paper and thought about what I might say at Jeannie’s funeral. When Jim came home he sat next to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“What are you writing?” he asked.

“Something for tomorrow.”

We both glanced at the blank sheet of paper. Hours had passed and I hadn’t written a single word.

“Why don’t you take a break from this project,” he said. “I brought pizza. Let’s have some and turn in early.”

Jim had dark circles under his eyes. I had been so busy grieving I hadn’t seen he was suffering, too.

I took his hand. “I’m glad you’re home. I love you so much.”

His weary expression brightened. “I love you, too,” he said, then pulled me close and gave me a hug.

The next morning I found it difficult to get out of bed. I wasn’t ready for what was to come – mentally or physically – and had to move in slow motion all the way to the shower. The hot spray helped ease some of the pain in my neck and shoulders, and when I got out, I popped a pain killer with a cup of coffee.

As I dressed, I realized I hadn’t written anything for the service, which was probably just as well because I couldn’t see myself being able to stand up and speak anyway.

We passed the old oak tree Jeannie and I used to climb, and my thoughts turned to my parents. I would have to make a point to spend as much time as I could with them now. I could only imagine the pain they must be experiencing after losing their youngest child.

It should’ve been me, I thought.

Jim parallel parked in front of my parents’ house. I was so tired it was a Herculean effort just to make it from the car to the front door. My dad answered, looking worse than I did and much more frail.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, hugging him. He gripped me tighter than he ever had, proving that although he appeared weak, he wasn’t. He held me for so long I thought he might never let go. When he did, I asked. “You ready?”

He nodded and took hold of my hand. Mom and I made eye contact as Jim interlaced his arm with hers, and they walked down the steps together. When we got to the car, I suggested Dad sit in front with Jim so I could be next to my mom. Since no one had anything to say, Jim turned on an easy listening channel to fill the heavy silence.

When we got to the funeral home, Lisa, Tim, Chuck, and Chuck’s dad had just arrived. Chuck approached me, and as he walked over, it seemed he had shrunk a few inches.

“How are you doing with the patch?” I asked. He had tried to quit smoking the day Jeannie was diagnosed but had been sneaking cigarettes in the back yard. Lisa had busted him and given him quite a lecture.

“Five days now,” he replied, patting his upper arm.

Lisa looked miffed, so I dropped the subject. Instead I went over and gave her a big hug, unsure what to say.

We all went inside. I saw Bernice and her parents and went over and said hello to them before taking a seat. I scanned the room, ignoring the coffin holding my sister front and center, and noticed some of Chuck’s co-workers had shown up, along with a few neighbors Jeannie had made friends with.

The service began with a prayer, then Chuck got up to speak.

“Most people don’t know this,” he said. “But I fell in love with Jeannie years before we started dating.” He was reading from a piece of paper, but paused to glance at me. “She had come to the shop with her father to have his car repaired, and even though she was too young to date at the time, I knew she was the one.” Mom and Dad exchanged a look, and then he continued. “I had hoped to have a chance with her someday but ended up going to Vietnam instead.” He paused. “I won’t go into all that, but let’s just say hoping I might see Jeannie again was one of the main things that kept me going.”

Lisa sat next to me, crying.

Chuck continued, “Then by some miracle I made it home in one piece, only to discover Jeannie had a boyfriend. A nice guy too, someone who treated her right.” Chuck took a deep breath and continued. “My dad had said ‘those are the breaks, son,’ so I accepted the news, glad she was happy and thankful I was back home, alive.” Chuck folded the paper and put it in his pocket, then looked at me. “Soon after I bumped into her sister, who put me in touch with Jeannie. And the rest is history as they say.” Chuck momentarily smiled, before his expression grew serious again. “And even though I’m standing here, heartbroken, I feel like the luckiest man alive because I got to marry the woman I dreamed of spending my life with.” He wiped the tears that had begun to fall from his face with the palm of his hand. “I just wish we could have had more time together.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd, and as the preacher asked if anyone else had something they wanted to say, I stood. I’m not sure exactly what gave me the strength to stand, but I did. Suddenly nervous, I glanced back at Jim, who nodded.

As I stood in front of Jeannie’s casket, words came to me. “I loved Jeannie…not just because she was my sister, but because she made me feel like I could handle anything. I mean, all our life she had this crazy belief that no matter what problem came up, I would know how to fix it. Most of the time I had no clue what to do, but knowing she believed in me made me want to do to whatever it took to prove her right.” I glanced at her for the first time, resting peacefully in her favorite dress, then turned back to my friends and family. “The funny part is that I did always figure out what to do, and she would say, ‘I knew you’d fix it, Lou,’ and just hearing her say that, and the way she’d look at me. It was like…”

I began sobbing as I thought of her beautiful smile. I couldn’t continue and had to return to my seat, where Jim handed me a tissue and put his arm around me. I buried my face in his chest, unconcerned with how loud I cried, and the next thing I knew we were in line, paying our respects before heading to the cemetery.

As I watched Jeannie’s casket being lowered into the ground, I felt a part of me die. Jeannie’s faith in me was my greatest strength. Without her, I was weak.