My Once and Future Love (25 page)

“She’s healthy, if that’s what you want to
know. Leave her alone, or next time I make
you
cry.”

“That a threat?”

“A promise. Good bye.”

Jacob heard the click of the phone placed in
the cradle, ending the call. Son of a bitch…who did that wanker
think he was? Barely in her life for ten years and suddenly he
thinks he’ll play big brother? And why now of all times?

Left with more questions than answers, he
left phone calls to his mother and tried writing.

His letters were returned unopened and the
e-mails never received replies.

By the end of the term, he gave up and
accepted he and Beth were no more. Always thought they’d go out
with a bang instead of a whimper.

Chapter Nineteen

I went to every oncologist visit and took
notes. Never again would I trust my mother with relaying all the
necessary information. The doctors might hate seeing me come
through the door with all my questions, but hell or high water; she
was beating this if I had to do it for her.

They started her on radiation and chemo right
away. I cut out everything I didn’t have to be doing to focus on my
mother and made sure Andrew was in the loop, too. He was coming to
L.A. as soon as he could.

I wanted to take a leave of absence, but Mom
wouldn’t hear of it.

“I will not be the reason you don’t get a
degree, Elizabeth Lawson.”

She was propped up in a hospital bed, tubes
everywhere. Her weakened immune system had allowed her to catch an
infection they were treating with IV antibiotics. The infection
scared me even more. Thousands of people died from hospital
infections every year.

“But Mom--”

“Honey, please. Be young, live, have fun.
Call Jacob.”

“I can’t do that. You need me.”

“Let me know my kids are going to be okay
when I’m gone, will you?”

“Don’t talk like that. You’re
going
to
beat this.”

She coughed, and wiped a little blood from
her chapped lips. “You heard the doctors, Elizabeth. And I’m okay.
You and your brother are wonderful adults, and your father and I
had a lot of great years.”

“Years he honors by not being here.”

Ever since the doctors upgraded her cancer
stage, Dad had taken every business trip offered to him, and when
he did spend time at the hospital, it wasn’t long. He brought her
flowers and left again.

“He’ll come when it’s time. Until then, try
to understand, Beth. This is very hard on him. Maybe harder than it
is for me.”

“Aren’t families supposed to support each
other in times of crisis? Andrew’s on a plane right now.”

“Elizabeth,
please
. Enough.” She
sounded close to tears.

Guilt struck my heart. “Yes, Mom. I didn’t
mean to upset you. I’m going to get some air.”

She nodded and closed her eyes.

Despite Mom’s chemo treatments, they
discovered it was spreading. We practically lived at the hospital
after that. I wouldn’t forget seeing my mother bald and skeletal.
Just like I knew I’d never forgive my father if he wasn’t here if
she died.

When
.

My throat closed up at the thought of that
word. I knew what I saw…the degradation, the sympathy on the
doctor’s faces, the calm acceptance my mother recently showed…I
knew it was
when
, but God…no one wanted to admit it.

No one wanted to say they were going to lose
their mother at eighteen. I was firmly stuck in the Anger stage of
grief, if for no other reason than it was easier than Despair.

The platitudes and sympathetic smiles…school
was a sanctuary. My professors knew I had a family emergency, but
only Michelle and Chris knew what was really going on. I stopped
socializing outside of classrooms and study groups. Anything
frivolous got cut from my life. Free time gave me room to think and
I just couldn’t handle that.

****

Jacob did what any artist did with
pain—channeled it into his work. Songs once filled with love and
happiness and hope took a darker turn as he poured out his shredded
heart. Angry guitar lines accompanied the lyrics and the fans loved
the new raw sound.

Oh, irony.

It wasn’t Beth’s belief that propelled his
rise to fame—it was her cruelty. The sheer cowardice of not giving
him a clean break-up pissed him off and he channeled every bit of
that energy into his performances. Always knew he’d thank her if he
got a break, but not like this…never like this.

He squeaked by the rest of the term for his
mother’s sake and pulled his application to join a Los Angeles
university in the fall. No need to go to California now.

****

Two weeks after my nineteenth birthday in
late May, Mom slipped into a coma. Sometimes she opened her eyes
and babbled incoherently, but she never showed signs of recognizing
we were there. The cancer had invaded her lungs and nearly
everything else and it was only a matter of time.

The three of us surrounded her bed when they
shut off the machines. She’d been out of it for a while, the
machines and tubes the only things keeping her alive the past week.
Andrew held my hand. Dad stood next to the doctor as she flipped
the switches and all the beeps and wheezes and hums fell
silent.

I kissed Mom’s cheek while she was still
warm.

At the hospital we settled in to wait. That
was what you did in hospitals. You waited. People went past and you
watched but you didn’t. Instead, you focused on the wall, on trying
to decide what the exact shade of paint was and wondering if the
people in the room knew your mother just died.

We made the choices for her funeral as a
family, but Andrew and I were the ones voicing them. My father
seemed to have gone numb. Normal, I guess, but not helpful. Andrew
and I opted for a closed casket. Most of her friends had last seen
her before it got bad, so we chose a good picture and had it blown
up to set on an easel at the mortuary.

Days passed. I know because I kept crossing
things off my checklists.

I did things. I drew lines. I kept going. She
needed me to finish this.

It was a lovely service and Mom had many
friends, but if I had to say “thank you for coming” to one more
person, I would have screamed. Was there a list somewhere of
Approved Things to Say to the Bereaved? "I'm so sorry for your
loss" seemed to be right up there. At least it was heartfelt, even
if the words were empty. "She'll be missed" was another, and
usually from someone who couldn't possibly miss her more than I
did.

She was fine before. Better. Things
were...and now we'll never have hot chocolate again, and laugh, or
go shopping. She'll never come home with another story about a
gallery, or greet me when I come home for the weekend.

She was gone. Really, really gone and I never
got to say enough.

It was only after the funeral, after packing
up Mom’s things, after returning to school, that I realized I’d
forgotten Jacob entirely for months. I never called or wrote him
about what was going on.

****

Summer was filled with more than a few
post-gig drunken parties where he woke up not knowing where he was.
Mum dropped by one morning when he was nursing another
hangover.

“Son, you can’t keep going like this.”

“I’m fine. Selling out every gig.” He
shuffled to the refrigerator for an energy drink.

“I’m not talking about your career, Jacob.
You love her, don’t you?”

“
Past tense
. And I told you I don’t
want to bloody talk about her.” He guzzled the drink and wiped his
chin.

“This isn’t the way to deal with heartbreak,
Jacob. When was the last night you stayed sober?”

He glared at her. “I’m not an alcoholic.”

“I didn’t say you were, but…darling, I hate
seeing you in pain. You need to let this out before it consumes
you.”

“That’s all I do on stage, Mum! Five months
and it still doesn’t make a lick o’ sense. I lost…there’s a hole
and nothin’ makes it better, so I keep pourin’ my heart out night
after night until somethin’ changes. God willing something
changes.”

Her eyes mirrored his pain. “Come stay at the
house for a while. You’re not alone in this.”

Jacob shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Just a
bad week.”

“You head back to school soon?”

“Should I?” What was the point anymore?

“If you want your trust fund on your next
birthday, you will. It’s your last year, Jacob! How can you think
of quitting now?”

“I don’t care! Don’t care about any of it.
We’re this close to getting a deal, Mum. I don’t need a degree to
get a recording contract.”

“There are no guarantees you’ll get one,
either. You need something to fall back on and I did not raise you
to take the easy road. I know Elizabeth hurt you, but that’s not an
excuse for your conduct this summer. You’re capable of better.” She
opened his front door. “I hope to hear you are in attendance on the
first day of school.”

She left, and he threw the empty can across
the apartment. Damn her for bringing up
her
name.

****

I just barely managed to pass second
semester.

I changed my major to Business Administration
for sophomore year, something safe and employable. Put away my
camera, and hers. The darkroom equipment went in the garage. I
couldn’t think of standing behind a lens without my heart breaking
all over again. Had to take some summer courses since I switched
focus, but they’d be easy enough.

I did make one friend on my new path. It
started as another tutoring job. Nathan was friendly, driven like
me, and really smart. I explained the concept he wasn’t getting and
figured that was the end of it, but he kept coming back.

Then he asked me out.

“I don’t date, Nathan. I’m sorry.”

“Come on, Liz.” He liked calling me Liz
instead of Beth, for some reason. At least he never called me
Bethie. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Pizza, a movie…we have a
nice time hanging out, don’t we?”

“We do, but Nathan, no…sorry. And I’m not
feeding you a line. I really don’t date.”

Not anymore. Not ever, if the stabbing pain I
felt whenever I thought of my ex was going to stay with me.

“That’s your final answer?” He really was
cute, with his sandy brown hair and coffee-colored eyes.

“That look doesn’t work on me. Yes. That’s my
final answer. I’m only interested in friends.”

He sighed. “Okay. I can deal.”

Nathan had big goals and big dreams, but it
wasn’t like it was with…my ex. I had no doubt he’d succeed
eventually, but he had this quiet intensity that ran under the kind
of geeky yuppie thing he had going on. Being the near opposite of
J—my ex was the only reason he was a male friend.

And we never talked about personal stuff.

Where my ex was tall and gorgeous, Nathan was
an inch taller than me and boyishly decent looking. Where the ex
had flirted, Nate told jokes. He was a former nerd with a head for
numbers and research. Conservative, yet competitive. He was from
the East Coast and had his first business at ten, trimming lawns.
There wasn’t a single thing about him other than his gender that
reminded me of…that guy.

We had nearly the same schedule and competed
for grades. It helped me focus and focus made the hurts scab
over.

I didn’t move back home for summer break. My
father wasn’t there for Mom in my eyes, or for me, and I had no
interest in seeing him. I went by the house when I knew he wouldn’t
be there. Andrew thought I was being harsh, but he avoided home for
years before this, so I considered his judgment tainted by Mom’s
death.

Vivian still sent clippings about Jacob’s
band from the newspaper. He graduated this summer. His band broke
up before he was out of college after the manager ran off with
their profits, but he secured a solo record deal soon after
graduation. Her letters sounded lonely sometimes. I knew how that
felt, but I couldn’t write her back, didn’t want to open that door
again even though what he did wasn’t her fault.

Michelle and I lost touch over the break. I’d
pulled away, of course, so I guess she got tired of reaching out.
We hadn’t had classes together since I switched majors, removing
the excuse to chat regularly. I only noticed once I was back for
junior year for a month and hadn’t had a call for Friday movie
night.

Going into my third year at college, I was
caught up for my business degree, and Nathan and I got more
competitive. We annoyed the hell out of our Profs trying to spit
out the answers first.

I turned twenty-one a couple weeks before
finals and we took a night off to celebrate.

It was a bad, bad idea.

“Come on. You can’t spend your birthday
hiding in your room again.”

“Why not? It’s cozy and I have
leftovers.”

Nate pulled me toward the off-campus bar and
grill. “Well, tonight you’re having real food. My treat.”

“Darn right. You make more than me.”

We ordered some burgers and I soaked in the
atmosphere of happy co-eds blowing off steam. When was the last
time I was out around people?

He told our waitress it was my twenty-first
birthday and that got me a free drink, something sweet that tasted
kinda like a milkshake. So avoiding thoughts of you-know-who, it
didn’t cross my mind what happened the last time I had alcohol.

I woke up partially undressed and confused
about where I was. Don’t know who made the first move, but we were
both pickled. Maybe Nate still held a secret crush on me. Maybe I
just wanted to be touched for the first time in years.

My stomach rebelled and I ran to his
bathroom. I had sex with Nathan by the light of a
lava lamp
.
I think?

“You okay?”

“Why didn’t I remember why I don’t drink?” I
moaned. I could barely remember anything…did we go all the way? Use
a condom? Was he clean?